uberDice

The platoon sergeant was a hard-ass named Aldred Molte. I'd met his type before: humourless, dedicated, a lifer. I knew how to deal with those people. My problem was the officious runt that High Command had seconded to me to act as my adjutant, a sharp-faced little weasel called Chenski. I'd spent the past week travelling down from Velind in his company, and I didn't care to be around him for much longer. The blank stares that greeted us when we stepped into the chilly briefing theatre told me that not many of the men in our new unit were too thrilled about having a new CO. At the time, I'd attributed that to Chenski's innate ability to inspi