Militia Training

Translator: Cinder Translations

...

"Fool! I said turn left! I said LEFT!"

Markalov roared, dragging someone out from the ranks.

This was Kas Village on the southern border of Alden, a large village with nearly 200 households and close to 1000 inhabitants, making it a significant village in Alden.

During the pirate invasions, the villagers organized a militia of over 50 people for self-defense.

After driving away the pirates, the steward sent by the lord's manor established a farming association in the village and recruited several dozen more people into the militia, totaling nearly a hundred men.

As for why Markalov, a regular army member, was here, we must go back a few days.

A few days ago, the military suddenly intensified its training regimen. Many speculated that Alden might be gearing up for another war with a neighboring region.

Many were excited because for these standing soldiers, war meant military achievements and rewards.

The soldiers rubbed their hands in anticipation and focused on training. Victories against pirates and the rebellion of Byerldine had gradually made them realize the special advantages of their unit, advantages they had previously thought were useless training.

For example, formation drills allowed them to swiftly form advantageous formations on the rapidly changing battlefield. Units like squads, platoons, and companies were very convenient for splitting and combining formations, making it easier for commanders to deploy orders.

Then there were the long-distance marches, which allowed them to seize advantageous terrain or appear unexpectedly in front of enemies.

"Sweat more in peacetime, bleed less in war."

Now everyone in the army firmly believed in this.

Just as everyone was training with great enthusiasm, the staff headquarters suddenly selected a group of highly qualified veterans and sent them to various villages to oversee the training of local militias.

According to the training outline previously drafted by the staff headquarters, except during busy farming seasons, local militias needed to undergo at least one day of collective training per month. Training included: emergency assembly, long-distance marching, formations, and combat drills.

Compared to the standing army, such training could almost be considered unnecessary, especially since the nutrition of militia members couldn't keep up with high-intensity training.

Previously, militia training had mainly relied on retired soldiers discharged due to injury. However, due to the shortage of these "specialists," many areas' militia training was essentially ineffective.

The threat of war from the Kent family once again drew the staff headquarters' attention to the militias, especially now that the busy farming season had passed, prompting them to standardize and strengthen militia training.

Markalov was one of the selected veterans.

Due to his previous military achievements, Markalov had been promoted to corporal. Upon arriving at Kas Village, he supplemented the militia to a full platoon and organized them into squads and teams according to military standards.

He immediately began training them and even enlisted the local craftsmen to build equipment like parallel bars and horizontal bars.

There were many difficulties. At first, these fellows couldn't even stand in a proper formation. Every time Markalov got them into formation, after dispersing, many couldn't find their positions again, and the formations became chaotic.

Drawing from his experience in basic training, Markalov resorted to rigorous discipline. With the help of physical discipline, the militia gradually began to improve. At least now, when they assembled, their formations looked somewhat decent.

But then came the tragedy when they had to move as a unit...

"Don't expect them to march in perfect step, but can't they at least keep in sync? If they fall apart like this during a march, how will they fight?"

Markalov demanded that they start marching by lifting their left foot first. Yet, someone always forgot. It wasn't that these militia members didn't know their left from their right, especially in a tense situation where confusing left and right was entirely possible. His booming voice only heightened their nervousness.

This issue became more pronounced during turns in the formation.

Take the young man he just dragged out, for instance. His name was Josh, newly added to the militia. Every time Markalov called for a march or a left or right turn, Josh got the direction wrong seven out of ten times. Thus, he became Markalov's prime "care" target.

Josh was brought out in front of everyone, appearing slender compared to the robust instructor, Markalov, who held him like a chick in the grasp of an old bear.

All the militia members held their breath, not daring to make a sound. Sympathy was evident on their faces, silently praying for poor Josh.

Markalov, rubbing his forehead in exasperation, had scolded and punished Josh, but he still couldn't prevent him from making mistakes.

Finally, with a heavy heart, he loudly declared to Josh, "Josh, you leave me no choice."

Josh's face turned pale with fear. Surely the instructor wasn't going to...

Turning around, Markalov addressed the entire group, shouting, "Militia Josh, due to his persistent disobedience, must receive punishment."

"As for the method of punishment, as I've mentioned before, if anyone repeats such a basic mistake, I will make them do it in front of everyone."

Strangely, upon hearing this, the sympathy previously shown by the militia members vanished, replaced by expressions of anticipation and even schadenfreude.

Despair spread across Josh's face as he pleaded, "Lord Markalov, please have mercy. How can I continue living in the village after this?"

Markalov's expression hardened. Suddenly, he raised his voice and shouted, "Militia Josh!"

"Yes, sir!" Finally responding promptly to an order, Josh had developed a correct habit.

With unwavering authority, Markalov commanded him, "Execute the punishment I previously mentioned! Right now! Immediately!"

"Yes, sir!" Josh's facial muscles twitched as he loudly acknowledged Markalov's command.

It was inevitable now!

Under everyone's gaze, Josh stood firm, gripping a wooden spear with his right hand planted firmly on the ground, and with his left hand... firmly holding his crotch.

Then, with a mixture of sadness and indignation, Josh shouted loudly:

"This is my left hand!" as he moved his left hand.

"This is my right hand!" as he moved his right hand.

"My left hand is for..." He hesitated here.

"Speak up!!!" Markalov immediately roared beside him, spitting in his face.

He had no choice but to continue, shouting bitterly:

"My left hand is for self-pleasure!"

"My right hand is for holding a gun!"

"This is my left hand! This is my right hand! Left hand for self-pleasure! Right hand for holding a gun!"

He repeated this three times.

After a brief silence, the militia members facing Josh suddenly burst into loud laughter, "Hahaha!!!"

Markalov immediately stepped forward, shouting, "If anyone dares to make another sound, I will make them do it a hundred times in front of the entire village!"

Everyone forcibly suppressed their laughter. It wouldn't be good if this happened to them.

Josh, at this moment, was at a loss. He would never confuse left and right again in his life, but his image was utterly ruined.

"Militia Josh, return to your position and continue training."

Finally, the instructor allowed him to return.

After this training session, the name "Left Hand Josh" spread throughout the village.

(End of the Chapter)