"ATTENTION!"
Back straight, legs straight, chest out, face forward, mouth shut. That's only the basics.
"Forward, MARCH!"
Left hoof starts it. Follow the tail. Steady pace.
"Left, FLANK!"
Everypony turns at once. Orderly.
"Flight, HALT!"
Stop moving. Back to the position of attention.
We all spread out to retrieve the flag. Daily basis.
"Present, HOOVES!"
Right hoof up near the eyebrows. With glasses, hovering off the edge of the hinge. Keep it there until told otherwise.
"Order, HOOVES!"
Back to position of attention. We do this constantly. The commands will be followed, or punishment will be dealt out to everypony.
We get done our run and get back to the barracks. Lights out. Looking forward to another day of this.
"This is complete shit. I wanted experience on the battlefield, not this."
"Calm down, Parade Rest. Wouldn't wanna be heard by the Colonel."
"Gomer Pyle, you're not named after a command. You're not destined for any of this shit. You don't have the cuite mark of a damn AK."
"Touche."
Bugle in the morning. Flapjacks for breakfast. Hours upon hours of drills. It's the same thing all the time. It's boring. I'm tired of the Colonel's yelling. But I'm thankful for Chief Tops Spin. He's actually able to make the day bearable. But even then, it's depressing.
Drills. Yelling. More drills. More yelling. Lunch. Every damn day, the same. I wish that something would happen. See some action. But what's the chance of that? Zero. But today actually seemed off.
Something is going to happen.
