The cafeteria was located in front of the warehouse area. It was a wooden shed made of several rows of logs. The shed only had a herringbone roof, and the bottom was made of logs. Although it looked simple, it had a primitive and rough style.
Inside the sheds were long tables and benches for the soldiers who came to have their meals.
Claude estimated that the garrison on the hill only had a battalion of around 900 men. That much could be seen from the number of tables and benches in the sheds.
After all, the military system in this world wasn't as complete as it was in his previous world.
Take meals for example. There weren't any rules or regulations like taking turns. Instead, everyone went to eat when it was time. Apart from the guards and those on duty, everyone else went to the cafeteria.
Meals also took a long time, lasting up to two hours. So, the tables and benches in the cafeteria were arranged at half the number of people. One look at the number of tables and benches in the cafeteria was enough to tell how many men there were in the camp.
There wasn't much difference between the military systems of the various countries on Freia.
Aueras, for example, didn't have squads, platoons, and companies. Instead, they were called squads, platoons, and brigades.
Squads were usually made up of ten to twelve men to a single tent. That was why the squad leader was sometimes called a tent leader. The rank of a squad leader was that of a sergeant major or petty officer, the lowest ranking officer in the army.
Four squads formed a platoon with a maximum of 54 men. The platoon leader was either a sergeant major or a second lieutenant. There were also signallers, medics, guards, and orderlies.
Four platoons formed a brigade with a maximum of 232 men. The brigade leader was either a second lieutenant or a first lieutenant. There were also adjutants, orderlies, signallers, medics, and a squad of guards.
Four brigades formed a battalion. Battalions were the most basic independent combat units in the kingdom's army. They could carry out missions given to them by their superiors.
The commander of a battalion was either a major or a captain. There were also vice-commanders, adjutants, staff officers, signallers, medics, gendarmes, and a platoon of guards. Apart from that, there were also one to two squads of scouts and a platoon of supplies. Altogether, there were around 1,200 men.
Because it was a mode of war where people lined up to be shot, most countries on the continent used the four-four system, which meant that four combat units formed a larger combat unit.
Above battalions were regiments, and above regiments were divisions. Four divisions formed a corps, and the strength of a corps was about 60,000 people.
During times of peace, the number of soldiers would be reduced by half, and it would be fine as long as they maintained a certain amount of combat power.
The Fukby Hill Military Camp was a battalion. It wasn't full, but it was only a quarter of its strength. It was obvious that this battalion was part of Bluefeather's main combat force, and it still had a relatively complete combat strength.
Claude was rather early when he reached the mess hall. There were only about two hundred soldiers ahead of him for their meals.
All the people who arrived at the canteen consciously lined up in four long lines. There were only four big stoves to distribute the food. There was also a small stove at the side for the officers. The soldiers didn't have a share.
Claude chose a smaller line to line up at the back. To his surprise, no one chased him out because he didn't have an epaulette. The soldiers behind him also lined up obediently behind him without any complaints.
The chefs in charge of distributing the food moved quickly. They basically took around ten seconds to get rid of a soldier.
Looking at the soldiers eating at the long wooden tables, Claude quickly understood why they ate so quickly. They didn't have much of a choice. There was a box of stewed potato meat, two slices of black bread with a slice of bacon, a fist-sized boiled apple and a bucket of black tea, which they could drink as many spoonfuls as they liked.
Many soldiers used the lids of their lunchboxes to pour the black tea and eat it with their bread.
It seemed that the food in the camp wasn't much better than the food in the middle school cafeteria. However, the portions were more than enough to fill their stomachs. Claude wondered if it would taste better.
Claude couldn't help but feel despair. If he had to stay in the camp for half a year and eat such food every day, it would be a huge torture for him.
The team moved quickly, and when there were only seven or eight people left, another group of soldiers entered the cafeteria. They were talking and laughing loudly as they walked towards them.
Claude looked back and didn't pay much attention to them. However, his brand-new uniform and the lack of epaulettes were rather eye-catching in the eyes of the soldiers.
Soon, two soldiers walked towards Claude after a short commotion.
"You, get out here!" a soldier with a long, horse-like face roared at Claude fiercely.
Claude ignored him and looked to the front. There were only three people left.
"Hey, I'm talking to you! Did you hear me?" The other soldier with a round face pushed Claude.
The soldiers around them looked at them. Even the chefs stopped what they were doing.
Claude rolled his eyes. "What? Do I know you?
Or do you know me? "
"No, I don't," the round-faced soldier answered honestly.
"Why would I care if you don't know me?" Claude turned around and continued to line up.
"Hey, kid, where are you from?" The horse-faced soldier came over.
"None of your business. Who do you think you are? Or are you in charge of this camp?"
Claude said impatiently. He already knew who bullied the four nobles. The two in front of him were definitely involved. The horse-faced one was a sergeant and the round-faced one was a corporal. Their epaulets had one red line and two red lines respectively.
"You're not from our camp! You can't eat here!" The horse-faced soldier pointed at Claude's shoulder in embarrassment.
"Heh, that's strange. So it turns out that you, a sergeant, have the final say on whether we can eat here or not?
Go wash your face over there and wake up. You're still not awake, are you? Go away and don't disturb me while I'm lining up, "Claude said rudely.
The people watching the commotion immediately broke out into an uproar. Some said, "Let's teach him a lesson."
Some mocked, "Haha, so you're in charge of our meals, huh?"
Some of the soldiers followed Claude's words and told Jom to wash his face first before coming back. They didn't mind watching the show. They couldn't wait for the two to fight Claude so that they could watch a monkey show.
"Get out here!"
The round-faced soldier got riled up by the crowd and really made a move. He grabbed Claude by the collar and tried to drag him out of the formation.
Claude was still holding his lunchbox in his right hand and tried to pull the soldier's hands away with his left, but he couldn't budge them.
The round-faced soldier was rather strong and managed to drag Claude out of the formation with a single tug.
Claude was enraged. He charged forward, lowered his head, and squatted down with all his might!
"Crack!"
Two consecutive sounds rang out and the soldier's cries rang through the entire canteen. Almost everyone was shocked by his cries.
No one could withstand the sudden pain of a fractured wrist. The round-faced soldier screamed as he jumped around with his wrists dangling from his body.
The horse-faced soldier quickly snapped out of it and roared, "You dare hurt me?!"
He charged at Claude and punched him squarely in the left side of his forehead. Claude's body swayed and he took two steps back to stabilize himself. Only then did he react and get into a scuffle with the horse-faced soldier who pounced at him.
In fact, Claude was also shocked by the soldier's cries. He only wanted to make the soldier loosen his grip. He didn't expect it to be so powerful. It basically crippled the soldier's arms.
He brought that move with him in his previous life. He once went to the gym with Boss and met a trainer who was talking about self-defense, so he listened in.
Coincidentally, the trainer was talking about what to do if one's collar was grabbed. Don't panic, grab the opponent's wrist, squat down, and lean forward so that the opponent would let go. If he didn't, his wrist would be dislocated. Nobody would be able to take that.
Claude's wrestling lessons in middle school taught him how to deal with being grabbed by the chest. It was nothing more than a backhand grip on the opponent's wrist, twisting his body and using the distance between them to shake off the opponent's grip.
But when he was grabbed by the chest by the soldier, Claude's single hand wasn't a match for his strength at all. For some reason, he recalled the move that the fitness instructor taught him and tried it without much thought. In the end, the soldier's wrists weren't dislocated, but fractured.
Claude was so shocked that he didn't even react to the horse-faced soldier's attack. He only snapped out of his daze after taking a punch and started scuffling with him.
At that moment, the canteen was like a pot of boiling water. The soldiers who came to eat gathered together and cheered loudly as they watched the two scuffling.
As for the pitiful soldier, he was barely able to endure the pain and finally stopped screaming. His hands hung limply by his side as he glared at Claude with gritted teeth.
The horse-faced soldier wasn't Claude's match at all. Amidst the cheers of the surrounding soldiers, Claude used a KO with his chin and a suplex to smash the horse-faced soldier to the ground.
However, his image wasn't that great either. His left forehead was swollen and his brand-new uniform had two holes in it. His hair was also a mess.
Seeing his opponent struggling on the ground, Claude breathed a sigh of relief. Just as he was about to look for his lunchbox, he saw a gap in the crowd of onlookers and six or seven soldiers squeezed their way in.
Seeing that, he exclaimed, "Jim, Enke, what's wrong with you?"
The round-faced soldier started tearing up like a bride who had just been bullied and saw her family. He quickly went over and said, "Beat him up!" The soldiers pointed at Claude and shouted, "Beat him to death!"
Fortunately, only four of them rushed over. One went to help the horse-faced soldier up, another checked the wounds on the round-faced soldier's hands, while the other four charged at Claude.
The surrounding soldiers cheered. There was going to be another good show to watch.
If Claude could use magic, four Magic Missiles would've been enough to knock the four soldiers down.
Unfortunately, he couldn't let others find out that he could use magic and could only fight with his bare hands.
Compared to the Blacksnake bastards, the Bluefeather soldiers were clearly more durable.
Claude knocked one down and kicked another away, but he was still caught by the remaining two soldiers. Not long after, he was beaten black and blue by the other four soldiers.
By then, the spectating soldiers were starting to get annoyed. They complained that it was unfair and that they should've fought one-on-one or one-on-one. Four against one was really embarrassing.
Claude, on the other hand, was already dizzy from the beating. After all, there were four of them. Two hands wouldn't be able to take on four fists, not to mention that they had doubled their numbers. His face was punched a few times and his mouth tasted bloody.
However, he didn't kneel on the ground and beg for mercy. Instead, he ignored the other three and grabbed one of them to give him a good beating. He didn't care how many punches and kicks he took on his back.
In the end, he saw that the man's neck was so close to him. Without thinking, he pounced over and bit down on it. Blood splattered everywhere and his cries shocked the entire canteen once more.