A Lovely Leave (Open to all Western Allies)

[Stephen Colly]

The question posed to him by the lesser of the two men was a confusing one. A black man at a rally? But then he realized – of course, the Americans seemed to hate the black people more than the British...he opened his mouth to begin to deny that he was scared when the nicer man spoke up.

He shrugged in response. He really did not know what to say – of course he wasn’t fine but how to say that without giving away...giving away what he’d be doing. He dragged on his cigarette for the hundredth time in less than a minute it seemed and blew the smoke away from him.

Outfit? Did that mean what company he was in? Must be. His had completely died – he wasn’t even sure now...”The 4th Infantry Division – A Company.” he muttered softly, the words coming easily from his mouth as he had said them many a time to soldiers. Those who had known the 4ID had scoffed and announced that that was a stupid company, one that couldn’t get on its feet quick enough – Stephen had been drafted in and out of the Desert Rats also recently, that had been interesting. Ed’s old division.
”I just...j-just had b-bad experiences.” he murmured quietly in answer to their questions – he wasn’t one to talk to strangers for very long and these two people...well, they were strangers and to be honest the boy didn’t want to speak to them. He cast his eyes down to the ground and took another drag – ash flitting to the floor.

[Cpl. Robert Anderson]

As Robert expected, there was a hint of question in the boy's face as he made his comment. Cruz on the other hand, seemed to understand and laughed a bit. He then went on to speak on Robert's terms. "Yeah Corporal, you seem to be a little nervous in the service," He said jokingly. Robert stood up from his seat and spun it around so it was backwards. He then sat down again and rested his chin on his forearms as he rested them on the top. Robert wanted to see what the boy would say. but Cruz kept speaking."Corporal, what outfit you with?" He said in the same way he had asked Robert earlier. jeez, is this guy keepin' a roster? Robert thought to himself.

After a few awkward seconds the boy spoke. ”The 4th Infantry Division – A Company.” Robert's eye brow pricked up as he heard what the man said. "Well, ain't that interesting." Robert said under his breath. The boy spoke again quietly. ”I just...j-just had b-bad experiences.” Robert spoke now in an easily heard voice. "Well bud, we've all had a few o' those." The boy looked at the ground and took a long puff from his cigarette. Robert pulled a chair from another table and shoved it towards the kid roughly. "Have a seat, pal." He said in his scratchy, Southern accent.

Robert payed no attention if the kidhad grabbed the chair or not. He noticed a young lady walking past with an apron on. "'Scuse me, Mademoiselle. The lady smiled as he mispronounced the French word. "Yes, what can I get you?" She said as she pulled out a pen and paper. "Could me and my buddies here get a few shots o' somethin'? He asked. "Of course." She said and smiled once more. She then left. "How's 'bout we drink to bad 'xperiences?" Robert said as soon as the waitress left.

[2LT. Adrian Cruz]

Adrian nodded as the kid stated what unit he was in. He didn't know really what the Brit Fourth was, but he knew about the American Fourth Infantry. He supposed it was probably a unit that didn't get too much action around France, either that or they just got transferred there. The Lieutenant finished his cigarette and dropped it on the ground, snubbing it out with his foot. When Robert talked about bad experiences, he smiled in agreement. Bad experiences were pretty much like good days in France. He knew as well as anyone that there were very few good experiences in war, most of them sitting around bull shitting like they were doing now. Adrian grabbed a chair as Robert ordered drinks. He could definitely use a shot of something, after all he was on leave.

"Hell, I can toast to that. How about we drink to leave in Paris? Its a beautiful god damn place," added Adrian with a grin.

He liked Paris, it was better than leave in dreary ol' England any day. The Lieutenant checked his watch, it was nearing noon. He smiled, the only time he had really seen anyone drink at noon was when he was visiting his grandparents in New York. His grand father was from the old country and lost his left leg at the Battle of Adwa against the Ethiopians in the 1885. The old man barely spoke English and when he drank he would shout "Per la mia gamba in Etiopia!" Which meant "To my leg in Ethiopia!" in Italian. Adrian always thought the old guy was crazy, but he learned from his father that Luca Cruz was far from crazy. According to Adrian's father Luca had been a tactical genius in the Royal Italian Army. Adrian still thought the old drunk was crazy though.

As the waitress came back with the drinks, Adrian waited for Rob to grab his drink. He didn't want to be rude, after all the guy had just paid for drinks and in Paris they were sort of expensive, especially to foreigners. Adrian smiled briefly remembering when he got his coffee, it had been quite a bit more expensive than the Frenchie before him who had just ordered the same thing. The Lieutenant knew that no matter what America did for France, the Americans were still treated rather differently because of the stuck-up notions of the French.

[Stephen Colly]

He really did not want to be here. He wanted to be alone.

He would have to just talk to them for a bit and then make up an excuse to leave. He looked up as a chair was shoved towards him and he gave a small smile, sitting down on it and feeling slightly more relaxed just by being able to not have to keep standing.

He didn’t even notice or look at the waitress as she came and Robert ordered – he really wasn’t interested. When he announced they should drink to bad experiences, Stephen nodded and when the drinks came; he took the last and downed the majority of the glass in one before setting it on the table and breathing deeply.

”You guys seen action?” he asked, feeling instantly better because of the drink. He’d seen action – too many times. The drink had calmed him slightly and he took another huge swig of it; not caring if he got drunk; he wanted to block out the last few minutes as quickly as possible as he hadn’t really enjoyed them.

”You wanna live here? I mean, not back at home or anything?” that was where he wanted to be right now; with his horse and his mother (not his father) and Henry...wow, that night with Henry had been an eventful one; but the priest had sort of dampened the mood a bit and had made the boy slightly hesitant which Henry had picked up on and had asked why – fucking religious types.

[Cpl. Robert Anderson]

Robert grabbed the bottle of "French crap" as he called it and poured it into the three shot glasses. He then picked up one of the glasses. He raised it slightly, but said nothing. He then downed the drink and put his mouth to his sleeve to keep the burning sensation just a bit longer. He then slouched back in his chair and waited for one of them to speak. The British kid, Stephen, spoke up.

”You guys seen action?” He said sounding more relaxed and at ease. Robert looked down at the concrete ground. His hand reached to his side where the scar remained from where a Japanese bonzai soldier had driven his bayonet into him. He could remember the man's face vividly as Robert took hold of the rifle and slowly plunged his knife into the man's throat. His eyes wide with fear and his hands grabbing at Robert's uniform. The blood trickled from his throat. The wound given to Robert wasn't a killing blow. It missed all of major areas of the body and a medic was only steps away. Robert now had an evil smirk on his face as he remembered how primal it had been to kill this man. It wasn't that he took joy in the man's suffering, but killing the enemy quickly and cleanly. His hated enemy had tasted defeat at his hand. He enjoyed the thought very much.

"Yeah kid, I ain't sure action describes what I seen, though." His eyes were cold and the smirk was still there. Truly he enjoyed killing, he enjoyed what he felt what is a hunt. It was exhilirating to take the life of someone who has harmed you and everyone you know. Especially if said person is even now attempting to kill you.

The next question felt kind of awkward to Robert. ”You wanna live here? I mean, not back at home or anything?” Honestly, he wasn't quite sure of what the Englishman meant. He answered the question anyways. "It's pretty nice here in France, but there's nothin' like..." He hesitated, then cut off his thought. He had no idea what he was going to finish the sentence with. He hadn't been home in, what was now three years. He coughed and then turned the question towards Lieutenant Cruz. "What 'bout you, sir?" He said plainly, regarding either question.