Quartermaster's Dillema
Denis Severin stared dumbfounded at Claude de Lisle.
"
Merde! Are you serious? How much have you been drinking, man?"
"Shut up! I haven't drank at all today, you hyperactive man-child! And I'm entirely serious!"
"But what the hell are we supposed to do with all of them? And how in the Lord's name did we end up with a hundred tons of onions?!"
"Well, the standing agreement with the local merchants and villages is that the army buys their available fresh produce to supplement the rations delivered from the capital. But given the season and the levee en masse, the doubling of mouths in the army, combined with the loss of farmhands, led to, well,
this." de Lisle shrugs and waves his arms helplessly.
"But a hundred tons? The soldats will mutiny before we're shot of them. Hell, the cooks might cry themselves to death, cutting all those onions! Lord have mercy, for the soldats shall not!"
"You're being dramatic, Severin! We can serve them soups, add them in stews, we can fry them; there are limitless preparations! Besides, aren't you the one always complaining how bland the standard rations are? Onions have strong flavor and scent! The soldats ought to be happy for something to spice up their meals!"
"Even so, de Lisle, soldats will always find something to
complain about without something to keep them occupied, and with the gentle pace of the training, they will have more energy than usual to spare. And with so few sergeants to rein them in, they'll get up to some mischief, mark my words!"
"Nonsense, the taste of onion shall invigorate the men! Why, you could threaten the worst trainees with onions being withheld from their meals! That ought to motivate the louts!"
"Really, man, must I ask La Generale to confiscate your spirits again? We don't want a reprise of the screeching of the damned at night!"
"Relax Severin, you're worrying too much! We'll just have to get
creative and
cunning about it. In fact, I'll bet you anything the men will come to love the onions."
"You're on. Desperate times call for desperate measures, after all."
------
"All right, men, another lap around the field then rapid fire drills! *
Crunch* Well, get to it, what are you looking at?"
"Eh,
capitan, are- are you-?"
"Spit it out corporal, can't you see I'm enjoying my snack? A little something to tide me over 'til supper."
"-are you crying, sir?"
"... The rain must be spoiling your vision. Best get a move on before the rain turns the field into a mire!"
A confused private whispers to another, "But there's not a cloud in the sky!"
"No, private, it's definitely raining. What are you all looking at? Never seen a man eat an onion before? Real men eat them like fruits!"
"Has the
capitan lost his mind?"
"Rumor has it he smokes black powder instead of tobacco, and drinks the blood of Prussians instead of alcohol. Since we haven't seen battle in a while, the
capitan must be...
on edge."
Many rumors and gossip spread among the soldats as the company left the field.
Severin mutters to himself, "This was not the best idea I've ever had. Bedamned onions."
------
Barging into the artilleryman's tent, Severin announces himself with a booming inquiry.
"de Lisle, tell me we've seen the last of these bedeviled onions! It's been months! I want to eat something else!"
"Actually, Severin, I won the bet. I've had requests from the regiment commanders for more onions. Something about "keeping up morale" and "they'll mutiny if we run out."
"What? I suppose the Lord only knows how things will turn out. So we'll be having onion everything for the foreseeable future, then."
"Not just that, but you lost the bet!"
"
Merde! Save me from lush artillerymen!"
"So I thought long and hard about what would bother you the most, and I noticed that you refused to wear a hat, even through winter, just wrapped your head with a scarf like a Moslem. So! Your forfeit is you have to wear this
lovely hat! I made sure it's within regulation for officers too, so you haven't any excuse not to wear it."
"de Lisle, how can you be so cruel as to make me wear such a monstrosity? I only barely managed to tolerate that bedamned hat by the end, and it died a noble death at Mayence! I took it as a sign from the Lord that myself and hats simply are not meant to be! Beside, I still mourn for that damnable thing's premature demise. To force me to wear that gaudy eyesore would be beyond the pale!"
"Come now, you petulant man-child, it's been nearly a year since your last hat 'died' at Mayence! It'll keep the weather off you and allow the men to spot you more easily!"
"Allow Prussian jaegers to shoot me, more like, and I'm still in mourning! It's in bad taste, I say!"
"Well, if that won't convince you, this latest episode with the onions
did inspire me to write a song..."
"Is it a catchy marching song?"
"I thought you might like it. It goes like this-"
"Wait, no! Don't sing!"
A/N: A small "welcome back" omake from me. And also because I wanted
this song several years early.
