The bang on the screen door was an uncharacteristic thing for anyone in the base to do; most people just opened it and let themselves inside. The many men who were woefully awakened from their deep slumber moaned awake, only to find that it was still dark out — so it wasn’t roll call which prompted them to rise, but another force of nature. The loud banging on the door continued until somebody finally got up and answered it with groggy, sluggish movements. The cold air hit the half-dressed men like a pile of freezing bricks, and they sought their warm wool blankets for heat. The one who had answered the door stared blankly at those who were on the outside, awaiting a reason for their untimely stirrings.

“Oy!,” Mumbled an inebriated soldier on the other side of the barracks’ door, “You feckers need to pack your things and get moving… We’re — hic — goin’ down to the Moray to steal some shite from them republican fecks.”

Many men, still in their beds, rolled their eyes and buried their hands in their heads. It was typical for F Barracks boys to get very drunk around this time of the month, and they were always the type to come up with ideas such as invading another nation without telling top brass. But many of the men thought for a moment, considering the benefits and setbacks in doing such a thing; their pay was low, so this could bring in a little extra drinking money; it was the dead of night, and their attack could be perceived by the Moranians as a common bandit raid on the border; and these men had nothing to lose, effectively, as the lion’s share of them weren’t MacDonald, so their army career was stuck firmly in the rank of private or sergeant at best. Hell, maybe they should go and show the Republican nightwatch who’s boss, maybe Rej would even get a kick out of it, if he found out.

Many of the once-groggy soldiers slid out of their bunks and headed for the armory, which was always unlocked in case of an emergency attack. Several dozen soldiers — perhaps even a good portion of the entire regiment — began packing a day's worth of supplies and began talking amongst themselves of what they would do with their newfound hypothetical wealth, which was only kilometers away, hiding in some Moranian estate.