We love our adopted home, not just because it welcomed us with open arms, but because it is the kick-assiest, strongest motherfucker on the planet and not afraid to say so.

But our native stomping grounds still have this nation beat when it comes to marching and drilling. Which, in all fairness, probably has more to do with our Viking ancestors having had quite a bit more time to work on it. You see, when we march, we aren’t inviting anybody to dance, we’re inviting them to shit their pants and die. Much like the Scots will talk until the cows come home about their bagpipes, which were and are intended to strike terror into the hearts of their enemies and it works.

Our marches don’t have a beat you can dance to, but they do have a beat. As in “we’re going to beat you over the head with it until you’re dead, dead, dead. Then we’ll take a piss on your rotting corpses and rape your livestock. Like a Viking.”

We’ve previously put up marches by our Teuton cousins in Germany who really know how to punch out a march, but here’s an example of what Vikings do when they’re not busy raping nuns and making the enemy shit themselves.

You may not be able to dance to it, but you sure as fuck can march to it.

And as to drilling, here’s a snapshot of the Royal Danish Army doing what they do for fun, which is drilling to the point of ridiculousness because you have to do something when you’re not busy strangling Saracens with their own guts:

Please note the sound at around 3:27. That is not a rifle shot. That is the sound of the entire unit slamming their boots together at the exact same nanosecond. Because anything less than that is unacceptable. Anything less is no better than a bunch of epileptic cats having sex on a tin roof, and if that sound of your unit’s heels clicking is NOT one sharply defined sound, then you’ll be doing it again. And again. And again. And again. Until the sun goes supernova if that’s how long it takes, but you’re not stopping until you get it right.

And you keep drilling it until you can do it in your sleep, awake, under water, standing on your head, under enemy fire and/or with Satan himself breathing sulfur in your face. Or you’re a fuckup.

And that’s what we do for FUN.

Don’t piss us off. Seriously. Just don’t.


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By Emperor Misha I

Ruler of all I survey -- and then some.

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