Briefing the Troops [Brennan + Ryan]

[Nicholas Ealing]

Location: 3ID Base, just outside Paris
Time: 12:57

OOC: Sorry for the slightly off post.

Nicholas leaned back in his chair contentedly. He was overcome with a buzzing sense of anticipation. All the months of planning, all the whispering all of the secret correspondences -- they had all led to today. He had sent out a memo for Sergeant Major Ryan and Master Sergeant Brennan to meet him in his office at one o clock that afternoon. He had kept deliberately vague about why he wanted to see them, and rather liked the idea of the men trying to work out if they had done something wrong and whether or not they were going to get a bollocking.

The Lieutenant had recently recieved a series of telegrams from the on-field mission commander, Major John Cartwright of the Special Air Service, stating that it was time for action. A number of Franco-British spies had already subtly infiltrated the organizations and the Americans would have to be drafted into Brest within the next fifteen days to guarantee the mission's success. Already, three British spies had been killed in action, reportedly assassinated by the Bretons themselves; one bullet to the back of the skull, the organization's traditional modus operandi for dispatching the enemy.

It would be a dangerous mission, perhaps the most dangerous the Lieutenant and his men would ever have to face. But, despite this, Nicholas was genuinely looking forwards to it. He missed being on the battlefield, at Rocherath, at Dunkirk. He would never have imagined when he signed up all those years ago, that Lieutenancy would grant him nothing but paperwork. Hopefully, this mission would give him the opportunity to show HQ what he could do.

Brennan and Ryan would be the building blocks of the force he was assembling. Assuming the two agreed to sign up - and there was no reason why they wouldn't - he could then move onwards to selecting the rest of the group. He would have to choose carefully. His life could very possibly be in the hands of the men he chose, and theirs in his. Choosing the five remaining men could be the hardest decision of his life. He would need experienced men, intelligent men, men who knew how to kill and more importantly, how to think. He could think of a good few men who would struggle to meet these requirements. He only hoped that Brennan and Ryan would not let him down.

Bloody Americans, he thought to himself wryly. Although he had been serving in the U.S Army for almost four years now and had gathered a great affection for the yanks, he still missed his birthplace. Not the rain, of course. That, at least, he was glad to have escaped.

The French Headquarters was the Lieutenant's favourite base. The smaller one in England was less comfortable and was also more prone to getting blown up by random German air raids. An exploding office tended to put rather a sour taste on an afternoon. No, the French base was safer, better-garrisoned and the recipient of plenty of French cuisine. For the past few weeks, the base had been Nicholas' home and he had grown to be extremely fond of the old place. A half-empty mug of tea was steaming on the desk, the product of many months of teaching the privates how to make a good old English cuppa.

Today was the day he issued his plans for OPERATION STORMCROW. His desk, usually so clean, was covered in papers, dossiers and other important-looking documents. Two files stuck out from the rest; one bearing the name DANIEL BRENNAN the other ANDEW J. RYAN. The first had a grainy photograph paper-clipped to the front, taken of Sergeant Brennan back when he had been a mere corporal. Nicholas held the Irish-American in high regard; while many men had been just as prolific in battle as Dan Brennan, few survived. If war was a game, then Dan Brennan was a grandmaster.

The second man the Lieutenant wished to see, Andrew Ryan, was a similarily old soldier. The American Sergeant Major was as experienced as Ealing himself, and, infuriatingly, slightly older. Although Ryan was his direct second-in-command, Nicholas had little experience of the man but had been suitably impressed by his battle record. Although Nicholas was under the inexplicable feeling that Ryan was a bit of a prick, he was happy enough to admit that they were both good men. Nicholas was looking forwards to finding out just how good.
A polite knock on the door drew Nicholas from his thoughts, and a second later a nervous-looking second Lieutenant popped his head into the office.

"S/Major Ryan and Master Sergeant Brennan here to see you, sir," he said, stuttering slightly as he spoke.

"Thank-you, Dalton," said Nicholas, returning the Junior officer's awkward salute. "Send them in." He realised a second later that he was treating the officer like a secretary. Dalton didn't seem to mind. He merely blushed pink and withdrew his head from the doorway, doubtless to allow Nicholas' guests to pass through. Well, then, thought Nicholas, leaning forwards and clasping his hands together. So it begins.

[Andrew J. Ryan]

The Willys MB Jeep, often shortened to Willys jeep, roared as it passed over the dirt road of the American headquarters. It's tires dug into previously made marks, where hundreds of other jeeps had passed before it. Sergeant Major Andrew Ryan had been summoned by his direct superior for a meeting of sorts in his office. There wasn't much for Ryan to go on, the details of the memo were vague. The memo simply stated that Ryan was to arrive at the base at approximately one o clock in the afternoon. The runner that had been dispatched found the Sergeant Major nearly an hour ago, who had been off base with some of the men in the French countryside.

To his left sat Corporal Robert "Rocky" Balboa, the man behind the wheel, who was a regular face accompanying the Sergeant Major. The other man, Corporal Brock Samson, sat in the back of the vehicle with the large mounted .30 CAL waiting before him. The two corporals, both formerly athletes who had joined in '41 to serve their country, were often seen following the senior NCO wherever he went. The jeep curved around on the road, before emerging from the countryside at the American 3ID HQ, just outside of Paris. The recapturing of Paris had been a glorious moment for the Allied forces, but the excitement of battle had died down since.

Pulling up to the gate, a guard approached and engaged in a brief conversation with Rocky, before allowing the jeep entrance. Balboa slowed the vehicle to a halt before the officer's quarters. "Good luck in there, Sarge." Ryan ignored Rocky's good wishes and pulled a fine quality French cigar from his mouth, a gift he had bought himself in Paris. Along with several other packs of cigars to restock his inventory. Putting the burning end of the cigar out on the side of the jeep, Ryan tossed the cigar into Rocky's laugh. "Enjoy it kid," he muttered, before turning to approach the officer's quarters. He could hear the laughter of Balboa back in the jeep, before he turned to speak with Samson in the Sergeant Major's absence.

Walking down a beaten path, Ryan opened a door to the large building to find some sort of greeting room or the other. He was familiar with visiting officer's, after all it was part of his duty as a Sergeant Major. A Second Lieutenant, who seemed more like a receptionist or secretary, was seated behind a desk writing something down when he looked up at the new man. "Sergeant Major Ryan, here to see the Lieutenant," Ryan spoke, which brought the junior officer to his feet as he walked over to greet the Sergeant Major and lead him to Ealing's office. Just then, however, a second man arrived in the room. A Staff Sergeant, Daniel Brennan, from Able Company. Apparently, he was there to see the Lieutenant as well.

"Right this way, gentlemen," the Second Lieutenant gestured towards a hallway and lead the two NCOs to Ealing's office. The man knocked on the door before poking his nervous head in to announce the two men's arrival. Right on time as well, as Ryan glanced down at his watch. Dalton, the junior officer's name or at least what Ealing called the man, withdrew from the door and glanced back at the two NCOs before pulling the door open for them. Sergeant Major Ryan stepped in first and silently walked across the room towards Ealings desk, coming to a stop before the desk. Curious of what he was in the room for, his eyes caught two files labeled with both Brennan's and his own name written across the top.

[Daniel Brennan]

Daniel jogged hastily across the courtyard, narrowly avoiding being run over by a speeding jeep. He had an appointment with Lieutenant Ealing – for god knows what reason – and was running slightly late. He had been off the frontlines for the last few weeks, but it had been far from a relaxing visit to the French country side. The liberated French were proving to be a bigger annoyance to the German’s! The resistance’s job was supposed to be done, but it seemed they didn’t exactly feel like relinquishing their power. Just a few hours before, Daniel had been sent out to a Parisian resistance cell to try and convince them to stop discharging their weapons into the sky every few minutes. It would be a big help if he actually had the authority to confiscate the weapons from them, but De-Gaulle had quickly tried to make France as Independent as possible.

He glanced at his watch. Shit . He sped up slightly, wondering why Ealing even wanted him. He was fairly certain he hadn’t done anything bad recently. Maybe it was to do with one of the men beneath his command? A few new guys had been transferred into his platoon, and he wouldn’t be surprised at all if one of them had tried to rob a jeep, or something. They weren’t exactly the brightest lot. But then again, he wasn’t sure any of them would have the guts to do something that big. Sure, they wouldn’t hesitate at petty thefts in the dormitory, but not something that would warrant an investigation from a Lieutenant.

A couple of Sergeants passing in the opposite direction called smirked out a few taunts as they passed by. ”In a hurry, Brennan?” one of them called out. Daniel twisted around to glare at them. One of them was Sergeant Alavi, another new face under his command. He was thankfully not an ordinary replacement, and had been transferred from the 11th armoured. He seemed to be a nice guy, apart from his apparent lack of respect for his Commanding Officer...
”Shut it, Alavi.” Daniel called back. He would beat the cheek at him another time, but right now he had somewhere else to be. He took another glance at his watch and then sprinted the last few metres to the door.

He slowed to a dignified pace as he opened the door and was surprised to see another face inside. He recognised the man as Sergeant Major Ryan, of Easy Company... or was it Fox? He couldn’t remember the exact Company, but he knew he was in one of the infantry companies of the Division. Apparently Ryan was a grizzled veteran, having been in the army since long before the war, but he had seen next to no action for the 3rd. Still, you didn’t get to the rank of Sergeant Major by being a terrible soldier; the man apparently knew his stuff.

Daniel gave a rushed nod to the senior Sergeant and looked questioningly at the second Lieutenant standing behind him. The Lieutenant made a beckoning gesture and with a loud “Right this way, gentlemen” made his way down a hallway. Daniel smirked to himself; it wasn’t every day someone called him a gentleman! The man stopped in front of Ealing’s office and knocked. Did he really need to lead them right to the door? It clearly said LUIETENANT EALING in block capitals on the door...
The man apparently held Ealing in high regard, judging from the stutter in his voice as he introduced them.

Daniel strode into the room and stood beside Ryan. His eyes found two folders on top of the desk, one of them bearing his name. So this wasn’t about men beneath his command, it was about him. And the Sergeant Major beside him. What was it about, some kind of mission? He looked expectantly at Ealing, waiting for him to say something. He hoped it was something interesting, he was missing lunch.

[Nicholas Ealing]

"Good afternoon, chaps," said Nicholas, smiling warmly as the two newcomers stepped into his office. He half-chuckled to himself as two pairs of marginally surprised eyes flickered to the confidential files, resting on their respective names. "Take a seat, please. I can assure you, they're very uncomfortable." Nicholas grinned as they sat and called out to the long-suffering Lieutenant Dalton. "Three coffees, please, Richard."

The Second Lieutenant made an odd, twitching movement that was somewhere between a salute and a curtsey and scampered out of the room in a frantic search for caffeine. Nicholas was quite fond of the jittery young man; he reminded him somewhat of himself when he had first joined the army all those years ago. He only hoped that the young man would survive his first battle; he knew plenty of promising lads who had been blown to bits before they had even had a chance to pull a trigger. He was worried about the Second Lieutenant. Although he was something of an expert at making coffee, he was hardly a model soldier. He would talk to him later, Nicholas thought to himself. Dalton could, of course, wait. It was time to get to business.

He pulled out a thick dossier, TOP SECRET stamped on the front in suitably forboding lettering. He flicked through the yellowing pages, stopping only once to glance at one section detailing the exact military might of the enemy. Eight men trying to strike a blow against over a hundred insurgents didn’t sound particularly fun, he had to admit. At last, he arrived at the page he had been searching for, the page that would tell his two companions everything they needed to know. He pulled it out gently and, a twinkle in his eye, slided it over to the non-commisioned officers.



“Quite the charmer, our Colonel Nixon. But…that’s the bulk of it. He wants a squad of us to head out to Britanny in Northern France. Violent nationalism has been growing in Britanny since the Great War and rumour has it that the commanders are planning something from the shadows. If these men really do rise up, the entire region could be up in arms, not to mention Celtic symphasisers in the UK and Ireland. The men chosen to undertake this mission will do all they can to retrieve intelligence from the enemy and to aid the Resistance in any way they can. Including, potentially, assassinating important figures within the cells. For example, this young man.” Nicholas flicked to another page and showed the men a brief desctiption and photograph of Celestin Laine, a prominent Breton nationalist.

“The French may be our allies, but these men are Nazis. Traitors. And they must be stopped.” Nicholas sighed and then smiled. “As far as I’m concerned, if anyone can stop them, it’s you. Heroes of the 3ID, as it were.”

Suddenly, the door swang open and Lieutenant Dalton hobbled in carefully, three mugs of coffee balanced on a tray. A bead of sweat ran down from his forehead and he was trembling ever so slightly; he was well aware that spilling any of the boiling hot liquid over his superior’s beloved office would have horrific consequences. Nicholas closed the dossier cautiously, just in case Dalton happened to see anything. The mission really was top secret and Nicholas wanted to keep it that way. Not even Captain Patterson knew of the operation. “Thank-you, Richard,” said Nicholas, as Dalton laid the tray down on the table, saluted and left the room once more. Nicholas turned back to his visitors, who had, no doubt, been considering his offer with some interest. He leaned back in his chair cheerfully and rubbed his hands together. “So,” he said with a grin. “D’you reckon you’re up to it?”

[Andrew J. Ryan]

As instructed, the Sergeant Major grabbed hold of a seat on the left hand side of the table and sat down within it. They were comfortable, to Ealing's words. Ryan couldn't exactly say he respected such officers who sat behind the fighting in large, comfy chairs with big desks who did nothing but paperwork. But they were a necessity required to keep the military running smoothly. With a sigh, the Sergeant Major watched as the Second Lieutenant, who Ealing had by the balls, rushed out of the room in some kind of frantic mix between a salute and courtesy. He didn't need young officer's running errands for him, he would gladly make some coffee himself. Ryan's facial expression never changed however, as he returned his eyes to Ealing.

Lifting his right leg up off from the ground, he rested it over his left knee and leaned forward slightly as the Lieutenant reached for a thick dossier. For a moment, Ryan believed he caught a glimpse of TOP SECRET stamped across the front in bold lettering. His eyebrows arched slightly and the Sergeant Major leaned back in his seat, studying Ealing from a distance. The man flipped through the pages, stopping here and there to read something or the other. At last, the Lieutenant found what he was looking for and grabbed hold of the individual sheet of paper before sliding it across the table for the two men to read. The sheet was beckoning to the man, but he approached the situation cautiously. He shot a glance towards Brennan, who was equally interested in the document, before he finally leaned forward slightly in his seat and read the document fully.

Breton nationalists in Brittany? Andrew Ryan, an American born, was confused to say the least. His knowledge of Breton and Celtic nationalism was limited to say the least, which made him feel a bit ashamed he was not more aware of such organizations. Perhaps the Englishman was more "educated" in such a field, a likely reason the Colonel had chosen him to lead the operation. A paper pusher in charge of an operation like this? Perhaps, Ealing was not such a paper pusher however. There were some tales of his leadership, some good and few bad. The Lieutenant had Ryan's respect, being his superior, but he couldn't help but laugh at tales of the man failing miserably at an assault of a highly-fortified German position in Northern Africa. Some say he lead his men straight into a minefield. But there were certainly highlights in the man's career and he had quite a reputation within the unit.

Anyway, he was the second best man to follow, behind Captain Patterson. And of course, in front of Second Lieutenant Strange... who had quite a few "humorous" tales as well. Mostly revolving around his failed charge on a vital bridge during the days following the D-Day landings. Apparently, he was the second officer of the 3ID that had a knack for blowing up on mines. Sitting back in his seat, he was done reading the document and had already made up his mind. The Lieutenant went on, explaining the importance of the mission as well as their primary target. Ryan was a hero however? Bah, he brushed the thought aside. He wanted no glory or fame. He needed no recognition. However, he was "addicted" to the thrill of battle.

Cocking his head to the right, Ryan watched the nervous Lieutenant Dalton cautiously make his way across the room with a tray of coffee. The man carefully set the tray down, with three steaming hot mugs of coffee before leaving the room clearly uninvited. The top secret dossier had been closed again, Dalton was not allowed to see the documents. Ryan reached forward and grabbed the hot mug, burning his hand a little. Maybe he should have waited for the drink to cool? The Sergeant Major shrugged it off, gulping down some of the hot liquid bringing a stinging sensation to his throat. Ealing was cheerfully rubbing his hands together and looking at the two non-commissioned officers, eager to know if they would join him on the mission. Holding the mug in his right hand, he rested the warm drink over his lap. "I'm in."

[Daniel Brennan]

A bemused expression crossed Daniel’s face as he listened to Ealing start to rant on about absolutely nothing at all. It had been quite a while since he had last seen the English Lieutenant, and he had to say he had missed the man. He was a complete lunatic – that much was clear from the way he sat there grinning manically at them. But he was a nice lunatic. He was (almost unbearably) friendly, happy and he just had a way of cheering you up. Maybe he’d taken a knock on the head when he was a baby, maybe he had been born this way, maybe he had developed over time, or maybe it was just because he was English. Daniel didn’t know.

He quietly took his seat beside the Sergeant Major and just about resisted a snort as the Second Lieutenant – Dalton – nearly tripped over himself trying to do his masters bidding. Daniel looked on as Ealing pulled a thick folder out of a drawer and started rustling through it, looking for the right page. Daniel smiled slightly at the words “TOP SECRET” printed on the front of the dossier. What was this, the CIA? Ealing pulled out a page and slid it across the table to the two NCO’s. Daniel glanced at Ealing curiously before he peered at the sheet of paper. His lips moved silently as he read down the page, with Ryan doing the same beside him.

He raised an eyebrow as he read the details of the seemingly impossible mission. Why him? He didn’t even speak French, and he doubted Ryan did either. Ealing started talking and Daniel listened intently. It dawned on him when Ealing mentioned the Celtic sympathisers. ”Oh... right.” he muttered to himself. That was why he was wanted; he was Irish after all. He was going to go in there and probably have to pretend to be interested in the cause. It sounded dangerous... these guys wouldn’t hesitate to line him up against a wall and shoot him if they suspected anything. But then again... he was a soldier. Heck, he even used to be in the Rangers! This wasn’t exactly the kind of thing he was trained for, but it couldn’t be much more dangerous than the frontlines... could it?

Ealing mentioned something about them being heroes and Daniel was just about to open his mouth when Dalton stumbled into the room again. He seemed confused as all eyes in the room turned to stare at him, and Daniel was sure he was going to drop the coffee, but he didn’t. He made it safely across the room and deposited the coffee on the desk. Daniel gratefully took his in his hands and took a sip. It was good... surprisingly good. He would have to come back here more often! Ealing offered his thanks. ”Thanks, lieutenant!” Daniel piped in with a grin on his face. Dalton gave an odd sort of bow and left the room. Daniel turned back to the table and took another drink out of the mug.

Ealing gleefully rubbed his hands together, asking them if they were up for it. Daniel smiled; apparently on these top-secret missions you got a choice about going! He wondered what would happen if he said no. Would Ealing let him bounce happily out of the room, or would Daniel end up in a canal with bricks tied to his feet? Either way, Daniel wasn’t planning on saying no. He doubted any of the other men in the base would say no to a mission such as this. Well, except maybe Dalton, but that was expected.

”I don’t know about being called a hero” Daniel said after Ryan had voiced his own consent. ”I’m just doing my job...” He trailed off. ”But yeah, I’ll do it.” he said. He placed the coffee on the desk in front of him and shifted slightly in his chair. ”One question, sir. When is this thing on?” He said, his finger gesturing at the Briefing from Nixon.

[Nicholas Ealing]

Nicholas smiled to himself. He had known that the men would not reject his offer. People were so predictable. If you knew what someone wanted, what someone dreamed of, you could practically control them. And Nicholas had an inkling that what these men wanted was to stand up and be counted. To be part of something, to make a difference. This mission would certainly see to that.

”One question, sir," Brennan piped up. "When is this thing on?” .

"The mission will kick off in approximately thirteen days time. From there, we will be drafted into Finistère, here -" at this, the Lieutenant rose to hsi feet and jabbed a slender finger at the huge map pinned to the office wall. A large red cross had already been scratched over the map, marking the area's location. "We will proceed to enter the town of Quimper, here -" he moved his finger along the map's surface a couple of millimetres to find the second marked spot. "and will go on to rendevouz with friendly units in the area and then to recieve further orders from mission high command. We believe the mission will terminate apporoximately nineteen days after set-off. All told, the mission should be over within just over a month."

Nicholas sipped at his coffee contentedly, letting his two companions mull over his words. "As you can see, gentlemen, time is of the essence. We have a team to assemble, and limited time to do so. We will need five men to join us, including air support. I have already approached two of my own boys, a Sergeant Norrington and a Corporal Docherty." The Lieutenant placed two grainy photographs on the desk, one showing a grizzled old soldier, the second a nervous-looking young man. Two men Nicholas would trust to his grave. "That leaves three men yet to be chosen. And mark my words, I need good men. Men who won't let me down. Men who won't make a stupid mistake because if they do, they'll get a bullet in the skull before they get a chance to make another. I have to make myself as clear as possible, Andew. Dan," Nicholas glanced from Ryan to Brennan. "This will be very dangerous, more dangerous than anything either of you have ever faced. These people are fanatics and if they so much as suspect a thing, they will not hesitate to kill us. So we need men we can depend on with our lives; no weak links, no one whose going to slow us down. You know the men better than I do, Sergeants. Do any names spring to mind?"

The atmosphere in the office had changed. Nicholas had always found it easy to maintain a cheerful, friendly, even naiive persona - he had adopted it as a defense mechanism to cope with the loss of his nephew - but now he was deadly serious. This mission would be important, dangerous and bloody. If he chose his companions badly, he would pay the price with his own blood.

[Andrew J. Ryan]

The attention of the Sergeant Major turned to face the Lieutenant's movement as he approached a large map pinned up on the wall in his office. Ealing spoke of the name of French towns and moved his finger along the map, describing where and when they would be moving. Ryan didn't pay much attention, the name of the towns mattered little to him as of now. In fact, he knew little to almost nothing about the area they would be going into. All he did know was a few fancy French town names and the movement of Ealing's finger against his decorative map. Not that that mattered, the Sergeant Major would see to it he had gathered as much information about the area before the mission started and that every man was just as prepared for their mission as he was.

He sipped at his soothingly warm coffee as the Lieutenant continued on with his little presentation or briefing, declaring that they would be in or out within a month. Something in the Sergeant Major's gut told him otherwise, that he would never be making it out of there. He ignored it though, pulling the mug away from his lips and letting the liquid swirl down his throat. Now the Lieutenant was looking at the two to help him select three men to accompany them for the mission. A wise move, seeing as the two NCOs were specifically meant to know the men better than their officer. The point of the senior NCO was to serve as a link between the officer and the soldier. Suddenly, he placed two pictures down on the table before them. One was a grizzled, veteran Sergeant while the other was young, inexperienced looking Corporal. Apparently, both men were already picked to join them.

Now, it was their turn to choose the men that would accompany them. The Lieutenant was getting rather dramatic as he informed the two men it was their task to pick the men. Talking about the danger of the mission, how men could die, how they needed men they could trust, and blah blah. Ryan didn't care much for all the talk, he would pick the men and take the danger into consideration. He didn't need his officer to be acting so melodramatic about the situation. Ryan grunted a little and swallowed some more coffee as he was referred to my his first name, Andrew. He did not enjoy being called by his first name by men he barely knew. That insinuated the two were familiar with each other, when Ryan preferred to keep the mood formal with his officers.

"Norris, O'Brian, Whyte, Bargett, Shirley, Pearson, and Baker are all good men. Any of them would be an asset to the mission." The Sergeant Major spoke first, before Brennan could respond with any other names. "We need men with specialties. Engineer," he gestured to his right at Brennan, "a pilot, Norris or Whyte are both qualified for the job. Someone who could operate a radio and maintain communications with HQ, like O'Brian. A marksman like Shirley or Pearson. And maybe someone who has seen their share of fighting, like Bargett or Baker. If you need three, three of those seven are the men you want." By now, the Sergeant Major had already set his coffee back down on the desk having quenched his thirst quite enough. His eyes glanced over to Ealing and then to Brennan, looking for responses.

[Daniel Brennan]

Daniel simply gave a nod at Ealing’s answer, not having any more questions. The Lieutenant went on to describe where exactly their operation was going on, and what they would be doing. Daniel only barely paid attention to this part. That kind of the thing was what Ryan should be paying attention to; that was his responsibility as second in command. Daniel was happy to just sit back and go with the flow. As he observed the Lieutenant explaining the mission, he noticed something and had to resist a snort. Ealing had been quick to cover up the important mission briefing whenever Dalton came into the room, but he had apparently failed to notice the map pinned up on the wall, which happened to have a conspicuous red X painted on their area of operations. He lifted the mug up to his mouth and took a drink to cover his smile.

Daniel sat there almost boredly as Ealing went on to explain the rest of the mission. He would have thought a briefing for some secret undercover mission could actually be boring ? Daniel perked up slightly as Ealing mentioned something interesting to him. The selection of other men for the mission. Daniel had presumed that Ealing would have already had that much sorted out, but he hadn’t. He was liking Ealing more and more by the minute. So far 5 people had been picked for the mission – Ealing, 2 of his men who Daniel vaguely knew, Ryan and Daniel himself. Ealing needed another 3 men and he was asked the two NCO’s to help him out. It was a wise decision from the Lieutenant.

Before Daniel could open his mouth to suggest a few people, Ryan quickly blurted out a string of names, leaving Daniel trying to distangle the words. He couldn’t resist a snort this time. ”Shirley?! I do agree that we need a Sniper, but I’m too sure about him. I’d prefer to have Pearson with us, but as far as I know he’s in the Balkans.” Daniel struggled for a second to try and think of another Sniper or Marksman in the Division. Anyone, but just not Shirley. ” What about Rhys, or Jackson? ” he said, the names of those two Snipers suddenly springing to mind. He didn’t know Shirley well himself, but the rumours about him made him out to be what must be the most annoying person on the planet.

”O Brian seems like a solid option to me, but Norris and Whyte?” He turned towards Ealing for this question. ”Do we really need air-support that much? I mean, isn’t it supposed to be a low-key undercover mission. Yeah, I’d like to have Whyte and his War-hawk up there if we run into trouble and need to get out quickly, but he would actually be no use at all in that situation. It’s not like we’re going undercover in the middle of Berlin or something, this is Brittany in France. Most of the people down there are just innocent civilians and if we have someone dropping bombs left right and centre trying to support us, he’s going to end up levelling a village.” Daniel finished off his passionate little speech, but at the same time was hoping Ryan wouldn’t take his rude outburst badly. He knew little about the man, but from what he did know... he had a feeling he wasn’t an easy going kind of guy who took these things in-stride.

But he still continued on. ”Instead of a pilot, I’d prefer if we had someone like McMillan or Bargett, both have had a fair share of fighting and know their stuff. Plus, they’re much less likely to blow up some innocent Frenchmen!” He said, trying to make a small joke, but expected to be greeted by a death stare from the Sergeant Major.

[Nicholas Ealing]

OOC: Bit short, sorry.

"Norris, O'Brian, Whyte, Bargett, Shirley, Pearson, and Baker are all good men. Any of them would be an asset to the mission. We need men with specialties. Engineer, a pilot, Norris or Whyte are both qualified for the job. Someone who could operate a radio and maintain communications with HQ, like O'Brian. A marksman like Shirley or Pearson. And maybe someone who has seen their share of fighting, like Bargett or Baker. If you need three, three of those seven are the men you want."

”Shirley?! I do agree that we need a Sniper, but I’m too sure about him. I’d prefer to have Pearson with us, but as far as I know he’s in the Balkans. What about Rhys, or Jackson? O'Brian seems like a solid option to me, but Norris and Whyte? Do we really need air-support that much? I mean, isn’t it supposed to be a low-key undercover mission. Yeah, I’d like to have Whyte and his War-hawk up there if we run into trouble and need to get out quickly, but he would actually be no use at all in that situation. It’s not like we’re going undercover in the middle of Berlin or something, this is Brittany in France. Most of the people down there are just innocent civilians and if we have someone dropping bombs left right and centre trying to support us, he’s going to end up levelling a village. Instead of a pilot, I’d prefer if we had someone like McMillan or Bargett, both have had a fair share of fighting and know their stuff. Plus, they’re much less likely to blow up some innocent Frenchmen!”

Nicholas smiled at Brennan's answer. He liked the Master Sergeant, always had. Of course, Nicholas tended to like everyone as long as they had never, at any point in their lives, tried to mercilessly slaughter him. Which, considering that he had been in the armed forces for nearly eight years, seemed to amount to about a third of Fascist Europe. He was less at ease with the Sergeant Major, though; he seemed too stony-faced, too by-the-book, too...humourless. But then, this team would have to be as closely-knit as possible, a band of brothers, and so he decided to give Ryan the benefit of the doubt.

The Lieutenant had, of course, compiled files on every man named and pulled out a few dossiers as the two men made their suggestions. "I agree that we need a marksman," said Nicholas, scanning seven files at once. "And as much as it pains me to say it, Benjamin Shirley seems to be our best bet. I think he could do well. He's an annoying little sod but he's bloody good at his job. He's a capable soldier, a good sniper and knows how to improvise. As for Jackson and Rhys, from what I can gather, they're away on a similarly interesting mission. Not quite as dashing as ours, though, I dare say." He allowed himself a small smile before glancing back up to the NCO's.

"In terms of air support...I think we do need someone. I'd feel a lot more comfortable down there if we had someone with us who knew how to fly. Someone who can get us out of a tight spot. If we were to bring...O'Brian, was it....he could radio air support and commision an air strike if needs be. Off the record. If any bombing takes place, the Luftwaffe would be blamed for any civilian deaths. High Command doesn't care about...morality or bloody civilians. They just want to get the job done."

"I'd rather Norris over Whyte given the choice. One of the best flyers - and fighters - I've ever seen. Also, somewhat less annoying than Sergeant Whyte...."

"O'Brian, Shirley and Norris. Those would be my suggestions. But I stand to be overruled, of course."