Gavin stood at the podium. Replacing the plumes with black had taken longer than he had expected. The banners were easy, but black feathers were hard to come by. Ormand had supported the search for vultures.
No one will miss vultures.
Gavin looked at the notes and straightened them. He spun and marched off of the stage. He strode toward the row of generals.
He placed himself at the side of the row, looking straight down the line. “Why are you standing this way?”
The man closest to him spoke without turning his head. “We arrange ourselves by seniority.”
“That will no longer be the case. Line up by height.” The generals moved at once, looking to one another, and settled back into formation. Gavin returned to the stage.
The wind had moved his notes. He straightened them. He looked out over the rows and rows of soldiers. They were chaotic. Imprecise. He returned to the end of the line of generals. This man was now younger. Gavin asked, “Why are the soldiers arranged this way?”
“We have broken them into battalions. Within the battalions they are broken into company and squad. Each squad is a tightly-knit unit, trained to work together on the battlefield.” The man spoke methodically. Gavin enjoyed the cadence.
“I see the logic in that. But all squads must be the same height. Can’t you see? They will be able to understand each other’s movements better if they see them as their own.”
“Sir, some of these squads have trained together for years.” The general turned his head and looked to Gavin.
“Then they are getting used to each other. It would do everyone good.”
“Sir, it will take a day or more to reassign the squadrons, even just for parade.”
“Then I will return tomorrow to give my speech. I am grateful we had this trial.”