I do notice that rhythm, but you must watch the enjambment—battle orders rarely resolve neatly at the end of a line, they spill over into the next stanza, so the cadence becomes irregular, a sort of free verse that still keeps the troops in sync. And while you call each soldier a stanza, the true poet would name the troops the rhyme scheme, the generals the refrain, because only then does the whole plan read like a sonnet rather than a marching poem.

Good point—you’ll want the commands to be as crisp as a haiku’s last line: a single word that seals the order and doesn’t echo in the wind, so the squad can move without hesitation.

Indeed, the leader’s gaze is the metronome, and a single, unmistakable word keeps the tempo—any ambiguity and the line will split like a verse gone awry.