fandomhigh | Infantry Tactics [Wednesday Second Period]

This week the run began without any ridiculously heavy equipment to put on first. "This week we're starting things off easy," Max explained. "You've learned how to move, and stay in formation, and carry a shield, and you've done well enough that today you're going to get to do something dangerous. Today I'm going to give you swords." Well, blunt training swords, but you could still hurt someone pretty badly with one if only by smacking them in the head.

"Various people have argued for various weapons to be issued to their troops for all sorts of reasons, but you will each be issued a training gladius because it is an extremely flexible weapon. It has been argued that the short length of the blade robs the gladius of the sort of elegance a longer weapon has, and that's true. But war isn't elegant. A longer blade is harder to control and more likely to get away from you. And since you should be standing in formation with your squad mates, that's a serious concern. Better a weapon you can control when loss of control can take out a friend."

"And lack of elegance is actually a good thing here. Remember that you're part of a unit. You work together and you keep each other alive by paying attention to your squad mates at all times. If you had some nobleman's dueling sword you'd be temped to try something fancy, and you'd step out of formation to do it, and then you'd get someone you were supposed to be watching out for killed."

He turned to glare back over his shoulder to drive home the importance of his next words. "I will be teaching you nine specific strikes. You will then practice these nine strikes until you know them by heart. And you will not use any other moves with a sword in this class unless I give you leave to do so." The nine legionary strikes had been developed over centuries to be efficient, easy to learn, hard to screw up, and, above all, effective.

Since they weren't carrying any extra weight Max pushed the run a little faster and a little farther than usual, but he figured no one should have a problem with that. Eventually he drew to a stop at a cleared practice area and picked up a training blade from the waiting pile.

"There are four diagonal strikes," he began. "Up and from the left," he intoned as he demonstrated the strike. "Up and from the right, down and from the left, and down and from the right." He exhibited each move in turn. "Notice that these are not sweeping gestures. They are short and controlled, involving minimal effort." Max began demonstrating the next set. "There are, as you've probably figured out, two horizontal strikes, one from each side, and two vertical ones, upward and downward. And finally there is the straight thrust."

Max's eyes narrowed suddenly. "The straight thrust should almost never be used. You are fighting in a formation, and that means that winning just means outlasting your opponent. Your strike just has to be enough to draw blood. Do that over and over and eventually your enemies fall down and you win. Nothing fancy. None of those whirling flourishes that are in the movies. A short, quick slash is all you need."

Stepping back, he waved at the pile of swords. "Grab your gear and find some space. Practice the strikes I've shown you, and I'll come around and correct your form." Because, yeah, he expected them to screw up.

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You're welcome to talk to each other or offer pointers or critique. Max will be doing the same.

Gwynn repeated the moves over and over, determined to get them committed to her memory.

Max studied her for a few seconds. Eyes narrowed critically.

It was probably clear from how she initially kept trying to reverse her hold that Anemone was more familiar with knives than with actual swords, but after a few passes she'd managed to get a decent feel for what she needed to be doing. Deadpool's class was paying off.

"Knowing how to fight with a knife can sometimes be a detriment for learning this sort of thing," Max pointed out. Not that she hadn't already figured that out.

"I was really good with a sword on one of those weekends where everyone turns into other people," Anemone sighed, wrinkling her nose in frustration. "And one of my friends showed me more, but I'm really more used to just hitting my way through a fight."

Or biting and kicking, or being about five stories taller in her mecha and ripping things apart with her claws. Details.

"Well, that sort of thing is useful in other fields, but in the regular infantry it's all about doing things exactly the same way as everyone else."

"What if the person next to you gets disarmed?" she asked. It wasn't being smart; Anemone was actually trying to work through the logic. "Do you keep going with the rest of the infantry and have them drop behind, or give them your weapon, or what?"

"Your job is to keep them alive. Transferring your weapon is risky so you cover them. And they'll still have their shield. That should be enough to keep them alive until they can be shifted back."

This was much different from what she'd learned elsewhere, but in it's way, she liked it better. She wasn't particularly pleased that a part of her liked it better since it was the part that she tried to ignore, but she still practiced as told until they were in her head.

"You seem to have an aptitude for this," Max offered. That was a compliment.

TV and movies had formed Momoko's only experience with swords, which was probably evident in how she was standing in a pose similar to the one she used for shooting, and trying to copy the students closest to her.

Slash up, slash down. Her whole upperbody followed each swing.

"You're moving too much," Max shook his head. "Just move your arm. Anything else and you'll pull yourself out of position."

"But Centurion," Momoko dropped her pose to stare at the weapon, and then the Professor, not really understanding. "If I do that, how can I use any of my strength? Don't I have to put my weight behind it?"

"You don't need to hit hard," Max explained. "Just accurately."

... She understood that part. She was good with accurate, as long as she could control the weapon.

"I don't have to, like, break his shield or shove his sword aside?" TV, see? Bad influence.

"No," Max shook his head. "You only need one good hit. You keep using the moves I'm teaching you and eventually you'll get one. Because you're going to be in better shape than he is and he's going to get tired and make a mistake before you do."

Or... the other way around. In which case either she'd have cover from her squad mates, or she'd get taken out. But... details.

Ah. The ~~boring~~ ~~beginner~~ boring way of fighting.

Momoko hesitated a moment longer and then resigned herself to the task at hand with a reluctant, "Yes, Centurion." She returned to her pose and began her slashing again, this time trying not to let her body follow-through.

She was only partially successful, but she was trying. That totally counted, right?

Edited 2009-10-01 04:10 (UTC)

It counted for something. "If you move out of position then you're not there to cover your friends," Max pointed out. He suspected that might make an impression on her.

Momoko froze at that. Oh, yeah! This was about learning how to be a different kind of hero than she was used to; she couldn't just move out of the way when fighting like this.

She gripped the sword a bit tighter. "Right." She would keep practicing. She was a heroine of Justice! She couldn't let her teammates down! "Thank you, Centurion. Can you demonstrate them for me again?"

Max nodded. "I can do that."

He demonstrated the strikes again.

Momoko watched closely and tried to follow along as he moved.

She still wasn't exact, but she was going to practice!

Infantry Tactics [Wednesday Second Period]

Grab a sword and follow instructions

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