He jerked his thumb towards the latrine pits. ‘Go!’ The lad took off like a scared rabbit, hopping bow-legged through the mud. ‘But make sure you crap in the proper place!’ Tunny turned to wag one lecturing finger at the rest of the litter. ‘Always crap in the proper place. This is a principle of soldiering of far greater importance than any rubbish about marching, or weapons, or ground.’ Even at this distance Worth’s long groan could be heard, followed by some explosive farting. ‘Trooper Worth is fighting his first engagement with our real enemy out here. An implacable, merciless, liquid foe.’ He slapped a hand down on the shoulder of the nearest trooper. Yolk, as it happened, who nearly collapsed under the added weight. ‘Sooner or later, I’ve no doubt, you will all be called upon to fight your own battle of the latrines. Courage, boys, courage. Now, while we wait for Worth to force out the enemy or die bravely in the attempt, would any of you boys care for a friendly game of cards?’ He produced the deck from nowhere, fanning it out under the recruits’ surprised eyes, or eye in Klige’s case, the mesmerising effect only mildly damaged by Trooper Worth’s ongoing arse music. ‘We’ll just play for honour. To begin with. Nothing you can’t afford to lose, eh? Nothing you can’t … Uh-oh.’

General Jalenhorm had emerged from his headquarters, jacket wide open, hair in disarray, face flushed beetroot red, and shouting. He was always shouting, but this time he appeared, for once, to have a purpose. Gorst came after him, hunched and silent.

‘Uh-oh.’ Jalenhorm stomped one way, seemed to think better of it, swivelled, roared at nobody, struggled with a button, slapped an assisting hand angrily away. Staff officers began to scatter from the house in all directions like birds whacked from the brush, chaos spreading rapidly from the general and infecting the entire camp.

‘Damn it,’ muttered Tunny, shouldering his way into his bracers. ‘We’d best get ready to move.’

‘We just got here, Corporal,’ grumbled Yolk, pack half way off.

Tunny took hold of the strap and tugged it back over Yolk’s shoulder, turned him by it to face towards the general. Jalenhorm was trying to shake his fist at a well-presented officer and button his own jacket at the same time, and failing. ‘You have before you a perfect demonstration of the workings of the army – the chain of command, trooper, each man shitting on the head of the man below. The much-loved leader of our regiment, Colonel Vallimir, is just getting shat on by General Jalenhorm. Colonel Vallimir will shit on his own officers, and it won’t take long to roll downhill, believe me. Within a minute or two, First Sergeant Forest will arrive to position his bared buttocks above my undeserving head. Guess what that means for you lot?’ The lads stayed silent for a moment, then Klige raised a tentative hand. ‘The question was meant to be rhetorical, numbskull.’ He carefully lowered it again. ‘For that you get to carry my pack.’