Post by George O'Brian on Jan 30, 2009 8:41:15 GMT
First Sergeant O’Brian took a look at the small watch on his wrist, the silver face held in place with a black leather strap. It was certainly well worn; it had adorned his arm for the best part of ten years. The silver was tarnished, and a multitude of scratches were splayed across the face, but it was his watch, and he trusted it to be accurate at all times. The thin second hand was climbing up towards the top, and the hours and minutes were indicating it was about to turn 3PM. He swung his M1 Garand around so it was behind his right shoulder, and checked his bottle, ammunition bandolier and knife were secure and pristine before marching around the corner and in to the room.
The wooden building was sparsely decorated, with wooden beds and lockers being the predominant features. The many windows along the sides were thrown wide open, letting in a gentle breeze from the East, and weak spring sunlight was perforating the building from the West. The 3ID Barracks in England weren’t the most luxurious of places, but it wasn’t bad. It had even refrained from raining in the area for the past few days, meaning outside the firm ground underfoot had a nice thin layer of grass springing up. Good weather for a bit of PT.
The occupants of the room were few and far between. The majority of the Division had been sent out to attack a German held position, but some men were still behind. Captain Patterson himself was leading the attack, and with all the men out, George was one of the highest ranked men within the Division at the moment. The occupants of the room were all lower NCO’s, or atleast from first glance they were, and he raised his voice, to make sure all heard. ”All right, Gentlemen, we’ve got PT ahead of us. I want you all out on the main field in…” he stopped for a second, and glanced at his watch, ”forty seconds. Weapons, ammo and canteens. Let’s move, let’s move!”
He walked outside in to the weak sunlight, and began walking around the side of the building. He turned into the main field, made a rough calculation, and stood to attention, with his watch raised at eye level. Time to see who made the cut.
The wooden building was sparsely decorated, with wooden beds and lockers being the predominant features. The many windows along the sides were thrown wide open, letting in a gentle breeze from the East, and weak spring sunlight was perforating the building from the West. The 3ID Barracks in England weren’t the most luxurious of places, but it wasn’t bad. It had even refrained from raining in the area for the past few days, meaning outside the firm ground underfoot had a nice thin layer of grass springing up. Good weather for a bit of PT.
The occupants of the room were few and far between. The majority of the Division had been sent out to attack a German held position, but some men were still behind. Captain Patterson himself was leading the attack, and with all the men out, George was one of the highest ranked men within the Division at the moment. The occupants of the room were all lower NCO’s, or atleast from first glance they were, and he raised his voice, to make sure all heard. ”All right, Gentlemen, we’ve got PT ahead of us. I want you all out on the main field in…” he stopped for a second, and glanced at his watch, ”forty seconds. Weapons, ammo and canteens. Let’s move, let’s move!”
He walked outside in to the weak sunlight, and began walking around the side of the building. He turned into the main field, made a rough calculation, and stood to attention, with his watch raised at eye level. Time to see who made the cut.
