Chapter 1: January 2nd, 1936
While the sun peeked over the hills to reveal the snow-covered Base Rockcliffe, the trumpets blared into life. Reveille was like an alarm clock for these men and they knew not to wake up late. 3rd Platoon was part of the meagre Canadian Army, in what was known as the 1st Canadian Infantry Division, Second Canadian Infantry Brigade. This was an old brigade, and had been in service since the First World War. It was a mix of young men struck hard by the Great Depression and old officers who weren't competent enough for any other job.
"Up, up, UP! You lazy bastards get ready!" Howled Sergeant Theodore. "Get out of your beds. NOW!" The men groaned and practically fell off their standard issue cots. 3rd Platoon was part of the interwar army, a terrible trained, terribly disciplined force of men. They were nothing more than militia with bases, officers and a high command. But they had character. Max Theodore, the Sergeant of the platoon, was 36, and missed the First world war by a hair. He actually went into service in 1918, but was never shipped to Europe. He was promoted by mere time, not by competence. He was the most senior man in the platoon by far, and definitely wasn't the most skilled. The men hated him and his power-tripping, and he hated them back.
The Corporals were Hamish Lance, Marcus Hanesworth, and Bill Kewley. They were 27, 24 and 29 Respectively. They were all more bland than the others, with a sense of duty instead of a sense of humor. Practical jokes weren't performed often because these men would tell the officers about them in an instant. The Lance Corporals were more laid back. Their names were Corey Bradley, Anthony Pollard, and Warren Baker. The Privates are too many to number, but all 24 of them had their own personalities, values and beliefs.
The men got out of their barracks and lined up in the cold and wind. In front of them stood someone curious. The man was General Harry Crerar, the commander of the division. The full company was there standing at attention. "Men, we have news for you that you might not like." Crerar said. "We are to relocate the division and the headquarters to Saint John, New Brunswick. While it would be all nice and good to ship you over there, we have a major lack of trucks. Therefore, we have to march there." The men groaned. Saint John was 1100 kilometres away! They were given breakfast, time to pack their gear and 30 minutes of R&R. While in the mess, Bradley and Pollard dished out the morning newspapers.
On the front page, in bold letters:
After that, there was a second article on the National Research Projects. Upgrades in Small Arms, Infantry Support Weapons and Artillery Equipment were shown. Also included was research in Agriculture, Assault Concentration and Infantry Warfare.
Finally, there was an article on the expansion of the armed forces. They were to have a new Divisional Structure. 2 Infantry Brigades, 1 Artillery Brigade and one Anti-Tank Gun Brigade. Some of the men were confused about the AT Guns, as they weren't used in the armed forces before. A troublemaking soldier name Ryan Wood said "Why anti-tank guns? Are we gonna go back to using Cannons like we're from 1760?" The mess collectively chuckled. "Silence!" Yelled Sergeant Theodore. If you wish to deny the genius of the high command of our own army, I will personally get you into Detention Barracks. Understood?" "Yes Sir..." Ryan muttered.
After this the men were put into formation and marched. They made at slow pace due to the loads of snow blocking roads, and some men expirienced minor frostbite. However, they were told to suck it up and march.
This is the first update i've done in a narrative way and was made to show off some of the main characters, the scene and the writing style. I will add some better dialogue once the game gets going. Thanks for tuning in!
