GarGar raised his hand to signal his men to stop marching. Trumpets blared so that even the farthest ranks would know the order. The commanders shouted, “Pitch your tents!” Yes, the army had stopped marching, but they were bursting with activity. There was so much to be done. First, a trench had to be dug that would circumnavigate the camp. Tents needed to be pitched. Fires needed to be stoked. GarGar dismounted from his horse, picked up a shovel and began digging alongside his men. That was the kind of leader he was. His men loved him for it.
From the very start, the campaign was hampered by poor planning. Funds that were meant to go for provisions somehow were diverted into the pockets of greedy middlemen. Because of this, GarGar was forced to spend his own money to keep his men from starving. Everything from canon fodder to musket balls were in short supply. GarGar did his best to present a cheerful face to the men under his charge, but they could see that he was unhappy.
“Why so glum?” Asked his aide de camp. “What can I do?”
“Not to worry,” answered GarGar with a sardonic grin. “You’ve already done more than anyone could expect.”