Snippet #1241964

Martin Isaac adjusted the way his kits weight sat on his shoulders, the train ride having not been so kind to him. They had finally arrived, after the training and particular brand of fun that came with it, and looked at the sheer amount of bustle and chaos going on, and kept any expression off his face.

The size of the whole enterprise and apparent lack of control could of been amazing, if he hadn't already noticed it had gotten cooler out already. He was in full gear, of course, the entrenching tool he had cut apart and rebuilt on his hip rather than in his kit, the rest of his issued rations and such on his back. He didn't mind the bustle and the crowded nature of the station platform, nor having to fight at times to stay with the other recruits from his province, as he was certainly not looking forward to dying. He was already used to his uniform, having run more than a few disciplinary miles and other such punishments in it, so it wasn't awkward yet. He had situated himself in the middle of the group of fresh recruits, not at the rear where he could get snagged for whatever reason, and not leading the way to avoid having to deal with officers and NCO's. He would be bound to do something stupid.

Yelling at the front of the group attracted his attention. Some ratty NCO was yelling at the front guy, big but nervous, for province and platoon number. What, didn't ratface know who to look for? He would of rolled his eyes at that, but that habit was beaten out of him long before getting this far, so he kept his peace for now. Of course another NCO made his way over and introduced himself and ratface, or Corporal Titov as Bonnet so mentioned, and he fell into formation with the order, not looking to make enemies just yet. His main goal for now was to keep his head down and avoid trouble, so he did his best to look like someone not worth wasting time on chewing out. He just had to hope it would work.