Target Practice

Lafayette could've sworn he heard light laughter responding from a distance. He cursed as he winced again after touching his sore neck. He prayed that his brown complexion could hide the red splotches, and if not, he was telling everyone he had poison ivy.

Lafayette straightened his uniform before exiting his cabin and heading to the clearing reserved for target practice. He watched the men hold muskets like they'd never seen a gun before and shook his head in disappointment, he certainly had his work cut out for him. All talk and movement stopped when he walked out in front of the group. They watched him silently with varying expressions. Some looked at him with respect, others with distrust and contempt- particularly one with the left side of his head shaved low, and a few even looked at him with a bit of fear in their eyes (poor Francis Roberts looked ready to wet himself). Time to see what I'm working with here. He stood off to the side of the targets, facing the men now under his command. The targets were rectangular and about the size of the average man's upper body, head included. On each target, a male silhouette was drawn with marks indicating fatal shots. Lafayette interlaced his fingers behind his back, attempting to project the poise Washington seemed to possess inherently.

"Prime and load!"

He watched the soldiers make a quarter turn to the right and at the same time bring their muskets to the priming position. Their movements were sloppy, only some more precise and faster than others. The pans weren't open because the muskets were not being reloaded after a previous shot so he ordered them to "open pan" to allow the frizzens to tilt forward.

"Handle cartridge!"

He observed as they hastily drew cartridges from the cartridge boxes worn on their right hips. They withdrew the spherical lead balls wrapped in paper cartridges that also held the gunpowder propellant, many of them dropped the musket balls and scrambled to the ground to find them in the dirt around their feet. They sealed the ends of the cartridges opposite from the ball with a mere twist of the paper. The soldiers then tore off the twisted ends of the cartridges with their teeth and spat it out, continuing to hold the now open cartridges in their right hands.

"Prime!"

Upon his command, the soldiers then pulled the hammers back to half-cock, and poured a small amount of powder from their cartridges into the priming pans. They then closed the frizzens so the priming powder remained trapped. Lafayette watched as the uncoordinated boys in front of him wasted half the powder on the field rather than their weapons and resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose in exasperation. His eyes ghosted over his friends amidst the other unknown faces in the line. Hercules and John seemed to be faring well enough, although Herc did seem to have a little trouble handling the small ball and cartridge due to his large hands. John had an adorably concentrated look on his face, eyebrows scrunched on his pale, freckled forehead and the tip of his tongue poking out of the right corner of his mouth. When his eyes finally rested on Hamilton, they nearly popped out of his head. There he stood with his right hand wrapped around a fully loaded musket, butt of the gun on the ground and muzzle pointing to the sky so the ammunition remained inside the barrel. He had completed the necessary steps to load his weapon as soon as Lafayette gave the first command. He moved quickly and expertly, his hands working from muscle memory. Lafayette was very impressed to say the least. Hamilton looked like a real soldier, his spine ramrod straight and eyes full of determination. It vaguely occurred to Lafayette that Alexander was the only soldier that seemed to possess the knowledge and skill of loading a musket, essentially, he was definitely a force to be reckoned with- a potentially deadly one at that. Lafayette would see how dangerous the small teenager could really be when the soldiers fired off their rounds.

Forcefully tearing his gaze away from Hamilton, he issued the next command. "About!"

The soldiers- with the exception of a certain Caribbean man- then lowered the butts of their muskets and moved them to a position against their left calves. They held them in such a way that the muzzle of the musket barrel could be accessed. The soldiers then poured the rest of the powder from the cartridge down the muzzles. The cartridges were then reversed and the end of the cartridges holding the musket balls were inserted into the muzzles with the remaining paper shoved into the muzzles above the musket ball. This paper acted as wadding to stop the ball and powder from falling out if the muzzle was lowered.

"Draw ramrods!" Lafayette barked at the sad excuse for an army in front of him.

The soldiers struggled to draw the ramrods from their muskets, some nearly grasping the ends of their bayonets by accident (that would've ended rather unfortunately). The ramrod was grasped and reversed when removed, and the large end was inserted about one inch into the muzzle. He wanted to scream when he saw more than a handful of men shoving the wrong end of the ramrod down their barrels.

"Ram down cartridge!"

The soldiers then used the ramrods to firmly ram the wadding, bullet, and powder down to the breech of the barrel. The ramrod was then removed, reversed, and returned to halfway in the musket by inserting it into the first and second ramrod pipes. The soldiers' hands then grasped the tops of the ramrods.

"Return rammers!"

The soldiers quickly pushed the rammer the remaining amount to completely return it to its normal position. Once the ramrods were properly replaced, the soldiers' right arms were held parallel to the ground at shoulder level, with their right fingertips touching the bayonet lugs, and lightly pressing the musket to their left shoulders. The soldiers' left hands still supported the muskets. Hamilton rejoined the instruction at this point. Lafayette noticed that almost none of the soldiers had a problem following through with this step, although it was probably because it was one of the easiest ones. However, at no time was the musket to touch the ground during loading and Lafayette could already see some soldiers that had forgotten that simple rule.

He let out an imperceptible sigh and gave the next order, "make ready!"

The muskets were brought straight up, perpendicular to the ground, with the left hand on the swell of the musket stocks, the locks turned toward the soldiers' faces, and the soldiers' right hands pulled the locks to full cock and grasped the wrists of the muskets.

"Present!"

The butts of the muskets were brought to the soldiers' right shoulders while at the same time the soldiers lowered the muzzles to firing position, parallel to the ground, and sighting along the barrel at the targets. Again, they seemed to be performing a less complicated task with more efficiency.

He had the soldiers arrange themselves into shorter rows of ten, one row behind the other, to match the number of targets. And now for the moment of truth, Lafayette thought to himself. "Fire!"

The first row of soldiers pulled the triggers and the muskets (hopefully) fired. A full second was allowed to pass and the muskets were then quickly lowered to the loading position, butt against the soldiers' right hips, muzzles held off center to the left at about a forty-five degree angle, and the soldiers looked down at their open pans to determine if the prime had been ignited. The noise was almost deafening and even Lafayette winced a little. He walked over to observe each target and took note of who had the best shots and who was way off any of the fatal focal points. There were even some whose rounds didn't fire off at all. This procedure continued through every row of soldiers, Lafayette dug the musket balls from the soft surfaces of the targets after assessing each row, letting the lead drop to the ground to be collected later. Finally, the last row was up. Coincidentally, all three of Lafayette's companions were in that row. He gave them the command to fire their weapons and observed the targets. Hercules did well enough, his bullet lodging itself in between where the ribs would be located on the silhouette. A potentially fatal, but definitely incapacitating enough shot. John also did exceptionally well, hitting just about an inch above the heart mark. Alexander's target, though, left himself and the entire field of men speechless. He had hit a precise, perfect headshot right in the middle of the mark. This is a soldier with a marksman's ability. Hamilton was the only soldier to hit a mark directly, soldiers looked at him with both awe and fear, even a bit of jealousy. Lafayette had to admit that as a swordsman by his own preference, Hamilton was an even better shot than him- and he could handle a gun exceptionally well. It just looked like Hamilton could handle one exceptionally better.

Lafayette let out a derisive snort and cast a disdainful look at his "army." "It looks like the General taught you something, at least. Albeit from the looks of it, obviously not enough. Or maybe some of you just didn't listen well enough, hm? Trust me when I say that I will make sure every word that leaves my mouth will make it through your thick skulls."

He decided to dismiss the soldiers with the best aim, including Hamilton, in order to work more selectively with the ones who were going to need a lot more training. As they cleared out, Lafayette called Hamilton over to him. He pulled him off to the side and they spoke in hushed tones.

"That was amazing, you know, what you did out there. Très exceptionnel (Quite exceptional)." Lafayette whispered to his lover with a small smile.

Alexander chuckled. "That was nothing."

"Hm, cocky are we?"

"I prefer 'confident.'"

"Ha, let's see how 'sûr de soi (confident)' you are when I'm having my way with you later, okay?" Lafayette smirked at the pink that dusted over the bridge of Alexander's nose.

Alex ignored his statement and asked, "how much longer are you going to be with this poor lot?" His eyes roamed over the remaining soldiers.

"I want you spread-eagled on my bed in an hour. Does that answer your question?" Lafayette's voice was low and seductive.

Alexander gulped hard and nodded meekly, he could feel the tips of his ears burning.

"Good boy." Lafayette smiled and patted his cheek twice before walking off and beginning to bark out orders.

Hamilton watched his retreating back before heading in the opposite direction towards their cabin, he had his own orders to fulfill.

***A/N: This update is earlier than I scheduled in honor of Lafayette's birthday. So... HAPPY BIRTHDAY LAFFY (it's actually 2am on the 7th here now, but I started drafting this on his birthday. Plus, it's definitely still the sixth somewhere else in the world).***