A History Maker by Alasdair Gray

meanwhile break ranks and sit on the ground — that’s an order.”
    He sat down with arms folded on the railing. The Boys’ Brigade did as he commanded. With a murmur suggesting amusement all but the horsemen followed their example. Wat gave his speech.
    â€œI suppose you’ve come here to learn things you might not get from the public eye, which exists to make entertainment out of serious war games. Here are the straight facts. Colonel Tam Wardlaw here has given me his job because I’m the only soldier in Ettrick with two arms, two legs and no internal injuries. I am in this healthy state because General Craig Douglas ordered me to lead the vanguard, which was the safest job in our last battle. Our whole army was organized to get me safe to the cliff top where I did my wee trick with the standard. While getting me there our army was almost wholly destroyed but I’m all right. No wonder Geneva condemned that tactic.
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    â€œMy present health is also due to me rolling off the cliff when the massacre started, and to a bush that caught me after I’d done that, and to General Shafto of Northumbria who pulled me off it. Less than an hour ago I spoke to General Shafto and told him we feared that North Sea currents might wash our old pole out of reach. He is sending divers from Whitby to locate it and attach a buoy. Tomorrow we can recover it when we like. Good men, the Northumbrians.
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    â€œWhat of the future? As Geneva says, tenyears must pass before we can breed and train another professional army so there is no urgent need to elect a new general. Our wounded officers will recover, though we cannot say how completely. Some of our veterans may return to active service. In three or four years young captains beside me here will be old enough to fight. There are potential generals on this platform, and standing among you, and many more at home with their aunts. Building an army comes before choosing a general. Luckily our neighbours on the banks of Tweed and Leader, Teviot and Esk will lend officers to train youngsters and new recruits.”
    He stood up and said, “That was my news. Goodbye.”
    He saluted and was turning to leave when a voice said, “Can I say a word to you Colonel Dryhope?”
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    It was a firm voice, quiet, adult, male and it came from the crowd.
    â€œYou’ve said several already,” said Wat turning back, “Seven at least. How did you say them through the Warrior house speakers?”
    â€œI’m Archie Crook Cot,” said the voice. This caused a burst of laughter; the Crook Cots were famous for their electronic expertise.
    â€œThat explains it,” said Wat, looking amiablytoward a group of horsemen with one stout rider a little before the rest, “What have you to say, Archie?”
    â€œJust that Geneva’s wrong about the ten years. More than two hundred full-grown Ettrick men are here to sign on as recruits today and you may get as many tomorrow. Our average age is eighteen or so. If we put our backs into the training … and we will lads, won’t we?” he asked turning in his saddle — there was a widespread shout of “ Aye! ” — “Then you’ll have a full adult fighting force in less than a year.” The last words were drowned in a storm of cheering as the whole crowd of younger folk jumped to their feet shouting and clapping and laughing. The Henderlands raised their pipes, puffed their cheeks and were obviously about to raise the sound level.
    â€œYE GOWK ARCHIE!” yelled Wat, “YE DOITED GOMERIL! YE STUPIT NYAFF! YE BLIRT!”
    The amplification was so great that the crowd was silenced, many clapped their hands to their ears, Tam Wardlaw turned his chair and sped back to the mess. With an effort Wat said more quietly, “Men become soldiers, Archie Crook Cot, because we’re no good at anything else! The Crook Cots are