Battle Born

New Recuirts

The air was thick with heat and anticipation as the unusually hot spring sun beamed down on the army base. Beads of sweat dotted the brows of the new recruits as the stood still and straight in a perfect line. The camp was buzzing with activity that morning. Not a single body was idle. This made the newbies stand out even more; inspection and comparison made easier for their judges.

"They're ready for you, Major."

The Major lifted her gaze from the paper work sprawled out on the desk before her to meet the messenger. He stood attentive in front of the fully open door, his hand still gripping the door knob. With himself, he brought the sunlight streaming through that illuminated the makeshift cabin office and made the dust particles in the air visible.

"Right," she responded, beginning to pool the paper into a neat pile. "Thank you," she acknowledge his salute. "Dismissed."

With a significant nod and an executed salute, the soldier took his leave. The Major took a moment to stretch out the tension in her neck, shoulders and fingers while seated. The majority of the morning so far had been spent hunched over the desk, devising new tactics to practice, sourcing solutions for problems within the battalions and working out training and tests for the new shipment of recruits. Finally, the time had rolled around for her to do some practical work and get out of the cramped office.

The Major rose elegantly, posture correcting to perfection. She turned on her heel to face the filing cabinet. The office was so small that everything was within reach. She picked up the neatly stacked files from her desk and filed them appropriately. Her finger grazed over the letters, stopping at P. She took out a file halfway and read the title: Project Rebirth. In a swift movement, the Major plucked out the file and shut the drawer.

With one last stretch to loosen up the tension in her shoulders, she walked a few paces to coat rack on the right of the door. She placed her file temporarily on the couch, which had seen better days. Her eyes glazed over her collection of coats and hats before selecting the appropriate hat and in a swift motion turned 90 degrees left where she met her reflection.

Diligently, The Major placed the garrison cap on her head where her hair parted on the left and adjusted it accordingly. She tested it's stability with a few movements of her head and ultimately decided it needed assistance. She pulled up the hem of her uniform jacket, revealing the waistband of her khaki trouser. The waistband was lined with several gleaming bobby pins. Yanking the required amount, she pinned the cap into place.

Her garrison cap sat properly on her brown Hollywood styled curls that were fashioned into a Gibson Roll, sitting on the nape of her neck. Her skin was porcelain, reflecting her heritage and a fashion she had grown accustomed to, complimenting her baby blue eyes that were framed by dark eyelashes. Her aristocratic features and colouring were framed with well arched eyebrows, a current trend. There was a slight bump on her nose, which she was always conscious about when it came to taking side profile photographs. Her looks were enhanced by a dusting of powder, cake mascara and a red pout. A definite advantage to having connections with the army was the makeup. It wasn't put on ration so supplies were low everywhere, yet somehow young male soldiers had some to dish out to impress the ladies, along with nylon tights.

Satisfied with her appearance, she took her file and left her office.

The Major's walk was fueled by purpose as she strutted across the camp to meet the new recruits. From her poker face to her decorated uniform, her presence demanded equal measurements of awe and respect - though not always receiving it when it was due.

"Major Moore."

The authoritative voice prompted her to stop. She didn't require to see the owner's face to be able to identify them. At this stage, she'd know his voice anywhere.