A Lovely Leave (Open to all Western Allies)

[2LT. Adrian Cruz]

Country: France, Newly liberated Paris.
Time: 20th of September, 1944, Noon.
Weather: Overcast with a light breeze.

Adrian had been in Paris for only two hours and already he was sitting out in front of a cafe. He had a warm cup of coffee sitting in front of him and a cigarette in his hand. He had bummed one off of a nice French woman a table over. Adrian had forgotten to get any before he went on leave and it was tough to find a good pack of Camels in Paris. On the table next to his coffee was a letter he was in the middle of writing. It was to his father, telling him about Brest. He wrote to him before and after every battle, just to notify the old man that he was okay. Adrian took a drag off his cigarette and sipped his coffee. He had to choose his words carefully to get the letter past the censorship department, which was no easy chore.

Adrian shifted in his clothes. The cleanliness of his uniform felt uncomfortable after having been in a dirty uniform for so long, battling in the hedgerows. He also hadn't worn his service uniform since he had went on leave in England almost half a year ago. He took the cap off of his head and looked at it. He hadn't seen it in a long time. It was emblazoned with his "butter bar" for Second Lieutenant and the blue "Rangers" unit badge. He remembered graduation from training with the Commandos, the first time he had worn the hat, he had felt like a real bad ass. But he knew now just what it meant to be a Ranger.

Putting his cigarette in an ashtray on the table, he grabbed his coffee and sipped it. The strong-brewed coffee it bit at him with bitterness. But it was a welcomed bitterness, Adrian liked black coffee. He grabbed the letter and the pencil off of the table and began writing again. He chose his words as carefully as a small child would choose a piece of candy from a candy shop. He knew that his degree in English would come in handy one day, and this was definitely a use. After writing a few paragraphs, the Lieutenant set his pencil down because of a hand cramp. He grabbed his cigarette and took one last drag before putting it out.

He looked up to the streets of Paris. It hadn't been like it was when he had seen aerial photos of it in an intel room. It was slowly being repaired and the citizens looked cheerful. Everywhere he went, Adrian had been thanks and hugged. They loved the Americans and the other Allies since the liberation, a stark contrast to how they had viewed the USA before the war. Adrian shifted in his clothing again, the starched fabrics seeming to choke him. The officer went through the list of things he wanted to do while in Paris. He first of all wanted to sleep in a nice, warm bed. Next he wanted to see the Eiffel Tower and third, well he just wanted to relax and have a great time.

Sipping more of the warm coffee, Adrian picked the letter back up and wrote the final two paragraphs. He ended it with "With love, Your son Adrian". Such a generic ending, but he really couldn't think of anything else. Adrian looked to his watch and saw it was noon. He had gotten in to Paris at 10, the travel had been long and he fell asleep. If it wasn't for a kiss-ass jeep driver waking him up, Adrian might have slept through the whole day. He chuckled quietly as he thought of the jeep driver. His name had been Iverson or something like that. The kid hadn't been in combat and asked him so many questions that he honestly felt like socking him out.

Adrian hadn't though, since the young guy had been with the 29th ID, and he had respect for them. Being a former Guardsman himself and having fought along side them on D-Day. D-Day, a horrible day that still haunted him in his dreams. He could still hear one of his squad leaders screaming for his mother and for someone to find his arms. He remembered being not fifteen feet from the murder hole the young man had been in when the artillery shell had hit in. In fact a piece of shrapnel had went flying inches from his face and hit a Private crouched behind him in the neck. The image of the Private's head rolling in the water flashed before his eyes. He quickly shook the horrible images out of his head as tears nearly welled in his eyes.

Adrian's platoon had lost nearly forty percent of its men on Omaha beach and his company had lost double of that. But that was the past. Even though it was horrible, the Lieutenant was still glad he had been there to see the men that survived fight so hard. He hadn't seen a beach landing like that since Anzio. But even Anzio wasn't that bad, in fact they didn't encounter anything or anyone until they got more inland. Adrian smiled when he remembered his first Platoon Sergeant; Wakefield joking about mines that could castrate people. Turned out not be a joke and a replacement got his manhood stripped a few days later.

[Cpl. Robert Anderson]

The cafe was darkly lit and smelled of coffee. Exactly the kind of place Robert was sure to be found at. He was sitting at a small table with a small glass of black coffee. One of the younger ladies across the room was eyeing Robert. He looked up from his one letter that he had received from his parents a year ago, the woman now gave him a smile and a little wave. Robert smiled back and went to his reading. "You lookin' at my dame?" A voice came from no further than two feet away from Robert. He looked up and saw a man in a ship shape Corporal's uniform. Robert didn't recognize him so he went back to reading. The man spoke again. "I was askin' you a question." After his last word he pushed Robert's coffee onto his pants. It trickled onto his leg and onto a piece of his letter. The man looked at his two buddies. "Oops." He said saracstically and one of the men laughed. Anderson took a napkin and wiped a little off of himself. "As a matter of fact, pal, I was lookin' at the 'ttractive woman across the room. As I recall, she was lookin' at me too." Robert gave a smirk then started walking away.

The air outside smelled of concrete and smoke. It didn't bother Robert but what did came outside. The three men came walking out,. "Hey, I'm not finished with you." The man said pointing at Robert. "Oh, I'm just gettin' started." Robert said and stood to his feet. The man threw a punch at Robert. He caught the punch and pulled it to his side. He then pushed the man back with his hand in his face. The other Corporal landed with a crash onto another enlisted man's table. A Ranger by the looks of his patch. Before Robert could say anything the man got back up and ran at Robert attempting to tackle him. He ran into Robert too high and didn't move. Robert spun the man around easily and put him into a sleeper hold. "Go to sleep li'l baby. No more temper tantrums fer you." After a few seconds the man was almost limp. Robert dropped him. "Alright now ya'll best get outta here with yer boyfriend." He said to the other two men. They both did as he said and picked their friend up and left.

Robert walked over to the table that had been knocked over nonchallantly and set it back up. He also picked up the small cup and placed it back onto the table. He then started walking back into the cafe, like nothing had happened.

[2LT. Adrian Cruz]

The Lieutenant was deeply thinking about his past experiences in Normandy when he was rudely interrupted. The sound was all too familiar. A fight! Adrian instinctively reached for a rifle that wasn't there and blinked as a guy hit his table. He backed up as fast as he could. His coffee went spilling onto the ground and his letter landed in it. The letter he had worked so hard to write. It made his eyes go wide as he saw a Corporal doing the dirty work. Who the hell did this guy think he was? Attacking another enlisted man! As the fight subsided, he walked over to the Corporal with anger in his eyes.

"Jesus Christ! I should call the MP's down here! What the hell do you think you are doing? Assaulting another soldier! And you got coffee all over my god damn letter!" yelled Adrian.

The lieutenant was furious. He had worked so hard for nothing. If this guy had been in his unit on the field there would be one hell of a court marshal up his ass. Adrian just stood there expecting some half-baked answer for this stupid situation. He hoped there was a real good explanation, because if there wasn't he was tempted to beat the guy down himself.

Adrian thought back for a moment and noticed he had grabbed for his M1. It wasn't there, it made him feel uneasy that he wanted to grab for it. Maybe that's why he needed the leave he got. It had been a long time since he had been out of combat, so long that in fact he actually grabbed for a weapon at the closest sign of any combat. He hoped inside of his head that it wouldn't be like that once the war was over. He began to think he wouldn't be able to go home and just sit at a desk writing. Combat changed men, and Adrian was a prime example. Five years ago, Adrian wouldn't have guessed that this is what he would be doing. He had never hurt a fly in his entire life before he got to World War II. He began to think back to his first kill.

It had been in North Africa during the bloody fighting in Tunisia. He had killed a frantically rushing German with a bayonet. He could see the man's twisted, frightened face as the blade plunged into his gut. He could almost hear the sound of him gurgling and screaming as he was kicked off of the tip. Adrian remembered staying up all night thinking about how he had killed the guy. He had been in North Africa for two days when he had made his first kill. It was a terrible thing. Eventually though, he just imagined them as empty uniforms. That's how he had dealt with it for the two long years he had been fighting the war. He returned to the situation at hand, remembering how angry he was at the Corporal, he noticed his face had went blank during his thoughts and shifted it back into a scowl.

[Cpl. Robert Anderson]

Robert looked at the man who's table he had just overturned. He now realized that he was a Leitenant. Robert was ready to be chewed out and he got it. Jesus Christ! I should call the MP's down here! What the hell do you think you are doing? Assaulting another soldier! And you got coffee all over my god damn letter!" He yelled furiously. Robert looked at the man with a straight look. He had gotten used to being chewed out. He almost enjoyed watching his superiors faces when they filled with anger. Robert especially liked this one seeing as he looked young for a Lietenant and a bit goofy looking in the first place.

Robert was about to answer when he noticed the man's furiousness had subsided and went into a blank stare. It reminded him of himself when he had memories of the godforsaken spit of land called Japan. Robert stood there at attention and waited for the Leitenant to snap out of it and remember his anger. Within a few minutes of his waiting, the Lietenant finally snapped out of it and his face returned to the same scowl he had before. Robert made his reply.

"Well, sir, if you wan' a good 'scuse, I ain't the man t' get it from." He said bluntly. He left the sentence off as if he were going to say something else. He pursed his lips after his sentence and waited for the man to yell at him some more. Robert started thinking of the man's blank stare. It made him realize that it was probably the memory of a specific man, woman, or even child he had killed. Robert had gotten the feeling of remorse soon after his first kill. Those times were long gone now, though.

[2LT. Adrian Cruz]

"Yeah well I didn't see that guy hit you! Now what's your outfit Corporal?" interrogated Adrian.

The Corporal seemed to be less respectful than most. He hadn't even ended his statements with "sir". Disrespect was one of the things that got on Adrian's nerves as well. It wasn't just common courtesy, it was a code of military conduct. When Adrian first had been called sir, he didn't answer it. But now it was something he had come to expect from enlisted men. After all, he worked hard to earn his commission and he believed people that worked hard could demand respect of others if they had to do so.

The other thing that pissed off Adrian even more was that the guy didn't even have the common courtesy to apologize for disrupting both his afternoon and surely the afternoons of other people around. Adrian brushed off his service jacket a bit, the brown jacket had gotten a bit of cigarette ashes from the table being overturned. Adrian once again stood expecting some snide comment. His arms were crossed this time and his posture was straight as an arrow.

[Cpl. Robert Anderson]

OOC: Sorry, short post. I'm not really sure of where to go with this.

Robert stood there and finally heard the Lieutenant's reply. "Yeah well I didn't see that guy hit you! Now what's your outfit Corporal?" He pried. Robert looked at the man, not a normal look, though. A look that tries to see past the face. Robert did this sometimes just to see if the man would react. He could almost always make out what kind of person they were. After about fifteen seconds Robert replied.

"Corporal Robert Anderson 'f th' Third Infantry Division. Charlie Company...sir." Robert added the "sir" almost sarcastically. He then looked down at the coffe drenched letter that the man was writing. He rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry, 'bout the letter, sir. Who was it to? As soon as the Lieutenant replied he kept nodded a few times, then kept speaking.

"Well, I see you be in the Rangers. What beach? Robert said asking the Lietenant which beach he had stormed on D-day in Normandy. If the man told him which beach, Robert couldn't really relate to it, seeing as he had been in Japan for those first few months of the war. Those few months were also the thing that changed Robert the most.

[2LT. Adrian Cruz]

Adrian rolled his eyes at the weird look the man gave him. The Lieutenant thought the look was probably part of the man's attitude. After all, he seemed to be very cocky. Adrian had seen those sort of guys before, they thought because the U.S.A. gave them a gun that they were supposed to be some kind of great warrior. The Ranger supposed he was probably a draftee from one of the infantry units. Adrian was glad that the Rangers weren't made up of draftees, in fact they were one of the few units besides the Airborne that required a person to be a volunteer.

"The letter was to my folks. Back in Jersey," replied Adrian with a stern look.

As the man stated his unit, the Third Infantry. He had heard of them; "The Rock of the Marne". They had a number of large accomplishments, especially in Italy and Sicily. Adrian remembered how much of a mess Italy had been. Especially when his original unit, the 1st Ranger Battalion was decimated. Adrian had been in a hospital with the stomach flu a week before it and a few days after. He also remembered being plucked from the 1st to help train the 2nd Battalion and train for D-Day. The corporal asked him about D-Day and he blinked.

"Dog Green Sector, Omaha Beach. My company was part of Task Force B. We landed into the middle of hell with the 29th. Were you on Omaha?" asked Adrian.

Adrian smiled to himself. The Brits and Canadians got the nice parts. Hell Adrian could have easily ran the whole stretch of Omaha that was dubbed Dog Green. It looked much bigger to him though. Too big for any man to run without taking a break or four. The run up seemed ten times as long. But Adrian guessed it probably looked that way because of all the bodies piled on the way and all the Kraut bullets pelting the sand like some sort of sinister rain. The Ranger shivered as he could almost feel the morning tide flooding his uniform again. The assault vest had been an added bonus. When he finally got off the beach and took the damn thing off it seemed to weigh more than he did. It had filled up with sand and water, most of the ammo in it had been a bit useless after all of the abuse it had taken.

"You got a cigarette Corporal...What is your name?" requested Adrian.

[Cpl. Robert Anderson]

Robert saw the man roll his eyes at his stare. He smiled to himself on the inside. Fag. He thought to himself in a light manner. Robert pulled up a chair that wasn't being used and took a seat. He took his beloved blade from it's sheath and started picking some dirt out from under his nails with it.

Robert listened to the man's most likely proudest moment as he stated it. "Dog Green Sector, Omaha Beach. My company was part of Task Force B. We landed into the middle of hell with the 29th. Were you on Omaha?" Robert hesitated to answer. He had been at the landing and had done some extremely brutal things. He didn't always feel comfortable talking about it.

"Yeah. Not gonna lie t' ya, pal, but...Japan's worse then this place." Robert said with disgust as he spit on the ground. His memories started to come back. The day when his patrol stumbled upon twenty Americans being held prisoner. The stench of the rotting corpses became clear in his nostrils. He remebered searching the buildings and finding a Japanese soldier that was left there. His hatred was pushed to it's limits that day and he could hear the scream of that Japanese soldier in his mind.

"You got a cigarette Corporal...What is your name?" The Lieutenant said. Robert felt his pockets and came up empty. "Nope, I got a light though." He said with a slight smile as he pulled out his lighter. He looked at it and read the engraving on it. Brothers in Arms It also had the same words on the other side in Japanese. He felt a lump in his throat as he put the lighter away. He and his squad had gotten all matching ones in Hawaii, he was the only one who still had his.

[2LT. Adrian Cruz]

"I've heard Japan was bad. I have a friend I went to O.C.S. with who got placed in the 7th ID. He's written to me about Japan. He wanted to go to Europe, he hears the women here are a lot better lookin' than natives you see in the Pacific," replied Adrian.

The Lieutenant was glad he didn't get plucked to train with the 6th Ranger Battalion. Those were the Pacific Rangers, and from the way he saw the Corporal react he knew Japan was far worse than he could imagine. He knew that a tropical environment would be hell on one's rifle. After all he knew how much sand his rifle could carry before the damn thing stopped shooting; which wasn't a lot. The one thing he was glad for in Europe was that they didn't have to clean their guns as often as they had to in Africa. He loved his M1, but cleaning it constantly sucked. He had to do clean the damn rifle every time he got the chance to rest. He also had to pour pounds of sand from his boots.

Either way Africa had been a stupid place to fight. It was hot, arid and sandy. You could get lost very easily and there were usually no land marks visible unless you were outside of a town. He also hated how it all looked the same! He also remembered how easily the German rifles jammed in the sand as well. They jammed so frequently that some times, during prolonged combat the Germans needed to clean out their guns in the field. Either that or their rifles became spears and clubs. But when battle wasn't raging, Africa was a beautiful place. It sure as hell was a nicer place than New Jersey. Even a nicer place than Minnesota. He looked to the Corporal and smiled.

"That's a nice lighter you got. I only have this crappy zippo. I picked it up in the States before I left in '42. Its lasted me two years and I only had to refill it twice. So Corporal what did you do before the war? I was going to be a journalist, but I joined the National Guard. I ended up being a Ranger along with a lot of other skilled guys from the 34th," continued Adrian.

College, it had been an enjoyable experience. It was a carefree time in Adrian's life. He had learned a lot in those four years. He remembered the clean air of Minnesota and the nice Midwestern girls. His favorite being Jenny O'leary. He still wrote to her, she was sort of his girl friend, and when he got back to the States he was going to look her up and get back with her. The sweet scent of her curly, brown hair and the soft look in her blue eyes could always make the Ranger melt. He reached into his pocket and opened up his wallet. Inside the old leather was a picture of her and him. He remembered that night. It was the Graduation Ball for the men of his O.C.S. class. Adrian took the picture out of the clear sleeve and handed it to the Corporal.

"That's my girl back in Minnesota. Her name's Jenny. You got a dame?" asked the Lieutenant.

Adrian wouldn't be surprised if he did or didn't. A lot of guys had girls back home and a lot of them had got the good old "Dear John" letter. Adrian was lucky he had found himself a girl he could hope was faithful. After all she was a Catholic like him and a smart girl. She wasn't going to be hanging around any stupid draft dodgers or guys home because of "battle fatigue". Battle fatigue was a joke in Adrian's opinion. People went in to combat the same as they came out. If they went in with a weak mind they came out with a weak mind. Combat only made people go crazy if people let it make them go crazy. You had to learn to handle its effects. Some guys had a drink after combat, some had a smoke. Some prayed before and others got themselves pumped up. Either way you did what you had to on the battlefield to prepare yourself. Any more though, Adrian was so used to the whizzing and popping sounds as bullets went near him and over him that he learned to block it out.

Sure he was scared, everyone was. But that fear could be blocked out with experience. He had seen damn near everyone show fear during combat, it was just how they showed it that mattered. He had seen people huddled down crying, and he had seen people just shoot back. The people that sat down and cried were usually the ones who ended up dying. The Lieutenant had seen it a dozen times, cowardice was usually punished with an enemy bullet. There was no time to be a coward when the people around you needed you to perform. A combat unit was like a machine, and if one gear malfunctioned the whole machine was in danger of failing.

Adrian looked back to the Corporal. He wondered what kind of man he was in combat. He hoped the guy was experienced enough to not show the biting fear that scratched at one's mind while carnage was running about. He would be happy to see the Corporal live through the war. Hell he would be happy to see everyone live, but that wasn't the case. In war people died, one just had to hope that the enemy died before they did. Adrian had been hit before, only a graze wound, but he knew how easily that bullet could have been a full on hit. He just never thought about it. After all if you constantly thought about death or injury it could lead the fear beneath the demeanor of a soldier would take over and consume you.

[Stephen Colly]

”Viens ici.”

The man motioned to the boy-soldier to approach him. He could feel the soft touch of the man’s fingers against his skin and a gentle kiss to his neck. The citizens of Paris would never know what was happening in the back room of the Cafe un Amino in newly liberated Paris.

The boy rolled his head back, feeling a tingle of pleasure run down his spine – he felt exposed and knew that what he was doing was wrong – but it felt amazing. The man before him had beckoned him towards the back, for some reason Stephen had followed and the man had seemed to sense that...that Stephen wanted/needed attention. And the next minute, the door was closed and he had been plunged into darkness.

The civilian – for he did not wear uniform – was older than Stephen and seemed to know what he had been doing. So after a while, he had opened the door and pushed Stephen out with a flick of his wrist. Light flooded his eyes and he shut them, squinting and rubbing his eyes before making his way swiftly to the front and out of the cafe. He felt dazed and rather exposed and.... – He ran a hand through his un-kept hair and rubbed his face. Jesus...what had just happened...? Should he tell someone...? No...Because the man had said not to tell – but he had enjoyed what had happened – but he hadn’t agreed to it. His mind was a bit “scrambled” to say the least. The people around him acknowledged him with weary eyes as if they could see into his soul – he wore an army uniform; the buttons glistened as he made his way out into the sun. He looked down at his uniform and realized that a button was un-done. Ah bugger it. He turned to face away from the on-coming crowd of people and did it up with shaky hands. He needed a drink.

He felt someone brush past him and he glanced up; it was the man. ”Hey!” he said quickly as the man walked away; he wanted a reason...”For fuck’s sake.” he muttered as the man disappeared into the crowd. His body was completely numb...completely numb and he felt sweat start to dry on his face. Sitting down numbly in a chair, he took out a cigarette with shaking hands. He dropped it several times but picked it up and then realized he’d forgotten his lighter. He needed a smoke and he needed it badly...why the fuck was he so disorganised?! Well a man had just...had just....done stuff to him so he wasn’t particularly in the best state. A few tables down, two soldiers sat – they were smoking and he heard one of them comment on the other’s lighter. Stephen took a deep breath and then turned round.

”H-Hey sirs. You w-wouldn’t m-m-mind if I borrowed that.” he pointed at the lighter and then waved his cigarette in the air.

OOC – Hope you don’t mind me joining Fred – Cruz asked if I could

[Cpl. Robert Anderson]

Robert sat and listened as he heard the Lieuetenant talk. "I've heard Japan was bad. I have a friend I went to O.C.S. with who got placed in the 7th ID. He's written to me about Japan. He wanted to go to Europe, he hears the women here are a lot better lookin' than natives you see in the Pacific," said the Lieutenant. Robert tried not to hear the screams of his best friend from when he was bayoneted in Guam. Robert stared at the edge of the table and finally replied.

"Don't even know th' half o' it." He said with some tension in his tone. While looking into the man's eyes. After Robert's reply, the Lieutenant moved on to a new subject.

"That's a nice lighter you got. I only have this crappy zippo. I picked it up in the States before I left in '42. Its lasted me two years and I only had to refill it twice. So Corporal what did you do before the war? I was going to be a journalist, but I joined the National Guard. I ended up being a Ranger along with a lot of other skilled guys from the 34th," The man went on. He obviously liked to talk, seeing as he kept going.

"Yeah, my ol' squad and I got these back in Nipland." He continued quickly to avoid the subject of his old squad. "I joined right outta high school. I was good at football back in th' states." Robert said shrugging at the end of his sentence. After his reply, the Lieutenant pulled out his wallet and pushed a picture towards Robert. Robert picked it out of the Lieutenant's hand and looked at it.

"That's my girl back in Minnesota. Her name's Jenny. You got a dame?" asked the Lieutenant and Robert handed the picture back. "She's a pretty girl." Robert said respectfully. "I kinda do, I don't know anymore. She's pro'ly moved on." Robert pulled out his own wallet this time and pulled out a slightly torn picture of the girl he had known since elementary school. "I've killed Bonzai Nips charging me with bayonets with a knife and I never even had the guts to ask her on a date." Robert laughed a little as he said the last sentence."Her name's Delia." Robert added on.

Before the Lieutenant could hand the picture back and say something a voice came from a short distance. ”H-Hey sirs. You w-wouldn’t m-m-mind if I borrowed that.” He motioned toward the pocket that Robert had just put his lighter into. The man's accent was different than the other's Robert heard around him. Brit Robert thought to himself. "If ya want a light, it ain't comin' from my hand, Limey. Robert said in a rude manner. He never particularly liked the British.

OOC: No problem Stephen.

[2LT. Adrian Cruz]

Adrian nodded in thanks as the Corporal handed back the picture. He listened to the man talk about not being able to ask a girl out on a date. Adrian smiled, he remembered the first date he had with Jenny. He had to ask her in front of all her sorority sisters, that quickly got him over any nervousness he had. He remembered the evening like it was yesterday. They went to a burger joint and stayed out late talking. He remembered the sweet touch of their lips before she went into her sorority house that night. Adrian had thought it was something magical. It was something he could think about during the worst of times here in Europe.

"Eh you'll get her," reassured Adrian as he patted the corporal on the shoulder.

As he did so, the Lieutenant turned around to see a scrawny British kid asking for a light. The only reason Adrian could assure himself that the boy wasn't someone on vacation's kid was his "Limey" uniform. He turned to Robert who had been rude to the Brit and scoffed. Just because the guy had been to bad places didn't mean he had to be mean to kids, especially the British. They had stuck with the U.S. on both fronts. Adrian took the zippo out of his pocket and handed it to the young soldier. And by looking at the chevrons on the kid's jacket he noticed that he was a Corporal. Adrian laughed a bit, he looked barely eighteen let alone old enough to be some kind of NCO.

"Jeez' Rob, he's just a kid. Corporal can I get a smoke from you?" asked Adrian.

The Ranger could easily tell the kid was rather shaken up. But about what? Its not like there were any Krauts creeping around Paris anymore. He looked to the Corporal and offered his hand with a pleasant smile.

"Lieutenant Adrian Cruz, Second Ranger Battalion. This here is Robert Anderson of the Third Infantry Division. What's your name kid?" Adrian liked to introduce himself to people before he got to know them. But sometimes he felt it was redundant since usually the name Cruz was stitched into his uniform.

[Stephen Colly]

The manner in which one of the men spoke took the scrawny kid aback slightly and he didn’t know quite what to say in response apart from being stunned into silence. He turned away from them and was about to come up with a response when the other’s companion spoke in a friendlier manner.

”Jeez' Rob, he's just a kid. Corporal can I get a smoke from you?”

The boy nodded and stood up; his legs nearly buckled underneath him but he caught the table top and held on to it, dropping the packet of cigarettes he had got for the two men. He sighed and bent down, picking up the cigarettes and dusting them off, carefully coming over to the other soldiers and handing the packet to them – his hands were shaking but ever so slightly and he frowned slightly; why were they doing that? Was it because of that man? Had he caused his nervous system to go caput? He hadn’t touched his nervous system....no one could anyway logically but he had touched him elsewhere...Fucking, fucking hell!

He placed the cigarettes on the table, patting them slightly and was about to leave, to turn away and get back to a sitting position and to clear his head when the American – Lieutenant – began to talk again; he had to engage in conversation?

"Lieutenant Adrian Cruz, Second Ranger Battalion. This here is Robert Anderson of the Third Infantry Division. What's your name kid?"

”Nice to meet you both.” the boy mumbled, his eyes cast everywhere but the two men; his voice less tremble now. ”Stephen Colly, Corporal.” his eyes then travelled and fixed on to Lieutenant Adrian Cruz; there was something behind the eyes, something behind those should-be bright and young eyes – a fear of the unknown; he felt and probably looked like an old man in a young man’s body; eyes normally told us a great deal than speech.

He picked up the pack if or if they hadn’t taken two cigarettes from it; he would take the packet and fumble a bit to get them back into his pocket. He’ swore under his breath but managed to get them in, in a few seconds. ”You are Americans, aren’t you.” stupid question, it really was a stupid question but did he care? Not right now, no. He had more important things on his mind – like getting over what had just happened. He took the lighter that Cruz (assumingly) would hand to him. Lighting his cigarette, he blew hungrily on to it and swallowed most of the smoke, sitting down heavily in a chair and tilting his head back; closing those old eyes of his – the face of the man, beckoning him in that strange but beautiful manner; the pain which still ached all over his body; the darkness...the unknown. He breathed steadily, opening his eyes and gazing at the sky, taking another drag; a big one and blowing the smoke into the air this time.

[Cpl. Robert Anderson]

Robert smirked a little as the kid regarded his rude words. Lieutenant Cruz obviously didn't share the same feeling by how he responded to Robert's words. "Jeez' Rob, he's just a kid. Corporal can I get a smoke from you?” Cruz said. Robert thought to himself. We don't need no kids fightin' this war.

The boy stood with his legs almost giving out. He looked as if he had just seen his first battle. Robert inspected the boy critically. He struck Robert as the kind of person who would run from gunfire, not to it. He rubbed his beard with his hand and slouched back in his chair slightly. Cruz spoke again. "Lieutenant Adrian Cruz, Second Ranger Battalion. This here is Robert Anderson of the Third Infantry Division. What's your name kid?" Robert nodded his head when he heard his name. The boy finally spoke.

Nice to meet you both.” He said softly. His eyes never met the gaze of Robert or Cruz. This made Robert somewhat suspicious. His eyes then locked to the Lieutenant's. ”Stephen Colly, Corporal.” Anderson had already realized he was a Corporal as soon as he had stepped into their conversation. He reached into his pocket and fumbled with a pack of what obviously was cigarettes. Robert looked at his trembling hands and his eyes. There was something Robert recognized in them. Fear.

”You are Americans, aren’t you?” Colly asked in the same tone he had before. Robert sneered at the question. "Hm. I wonder what'd give us away?" Robert said in his sarcastic southern accent. "You alright kid? You look more scared than a black man at a rally." Robert knew his comparison wouldn't be known seeing as they both weren't from his area in the United States, but he said it anyways.

[2LT. Adrian Cruz]

At Robert's comment about "a black man at a rally", Adrian laughed a bit. He assumed the man meant the KKK. The Lieutenant had seen very little of the KKK in New Ark, but he knew all well of the reference. He remembered listening about it on the radio in his parents' home. They were a big thing while he was growing up, and he remembered hearing about them marching through New York City. The Klan was a strange subject in Jersey, not many people supported them, especially with the large Italian and Jewish populations. Adrian had no real problems with Blacks, they just didn't bother him and he didn't make the time to bother them. He thought hating them was pointless, sure he didn't have high expectations of them as a people, but hating them wasn't the best thing to do either. The Lieutenant looked back at the kid and watched him as he smoked.

"Yeah Corporal, you seem to be a little nervous in the service," laughed Adrian.

He had seen kids like that before, being in a foreign country, knowing that a group of people that want to kill you could spring up out of anywhere. It took a toll on people's minds. He knew some guys that if they heard a loud noise their rifles would be in their arms almost immediately. It was unhealthy, and it was a result of combat fatigue. But unlike himself, the enlisted men didn't really get the luxury of taking leave. Well at least not as often as officers got it. Adrian had only received leave because he hadn't taken any in a very long time. Even when he was on base, the Ranger had refused weekend passes a lot of the time. Most people thought it was weird and even his CO's would grill him about it. Adrian liked to work, and the Army was a job he enjoyed doing. The Lieutenant looked down to his pants and smoothed them out a bit, they had been a bit wrinkled from him jumping up earlier.

"Corporal, what outfit you with?" asked Adrian. He liked knowing who was with what unit and it was a good way to break the ice he could feel encroaching upon the conversation.