Lieutenant Armstrong, who had always envied the top sergeant’s poise, did not bother to hide his grin as he elbowed Rembrandt in glee. Unfortunately Phule noticed the exchange.
“Lieutenants?”
“Sir?”
The junior officers cringed inside as their commander nodded pointedly at the trench, but they were compelled to match the sergeant’s example. Two sets of officer’s uniforms hit the muck as the company looked on with delight.
“As you can see,” the CO commented calmly, “it’s actually quicker to simply wade through this obstacle than to stand in line for a rope. Now, if you’ll follow me, we’ll take a look at the next problem. Remember how deep this is and lend a hand to your shorter teammates.”
With that, he turned and stepped off the edge of the trench himself, accepting a hand up from Brandy as he reached the other side. The company charged into the trench like lemmings behind him, eager to see what else their commander had up his sleeve.
The next station was much like the last, except that the trench was wider and spanned by three logs. This time, Phule didn’t hesitate, but hopped immediately onto one of the logs and crossed to the far side, beckoning for the waterlogged Armstrong to join him.
“This one isn’t too difficult,” he called from the other side, “if you’re reasonably agile. Of course, some of us aren’t reasonably agile, and even for those that are, keeping your balance takes time. So again, we simply modify the world to fit our needs … Tusk-anini! Could you get the other end of this?”