Bleeding Blighters!

[♔ Rupert Crawford]

Location:[/b] France
Notes:[/b] Just to notify everyone, I’m attempting to try and keep a timeline with Rupert, but nothing strict. This thread is towards the beginning of the invasion of France. No date tagged however and this thread is open to officers and NCOs.


The field headquarters bordered onto a small rural village occupied by American and British forces, that Rupert found remarkably entertaining to say the least. He wasn’t experienced in the slightest of combat and neither did he have many postings to Allied headquarters, this being his first however, but he was damned sure the Yanks and Limeys kept their business to themselves during this war? It was quite a miss-match of American ranks and British ranks floating about the headquarters and Rupert’s head began to swell, wondering what had happened to the customary British headquarters that didn’t mingle with American hot-heads. Now though, American officers saluted British seniors and vice versa, Rupert couldn’t help but grind his teeth as he saluted a bald headed and grey bearded American colonel exiting the headquarters with his small boyish faced entourage in toe.

Regaining his posture, Lieutenant Crawford moved past the guarded sentry at the double-doors to a fine manor house now known as Advance Allied Headquarters and slipped on inside hastily. Removing his peaked cap and brushing down his karki battle fatigues, Rupert’s eyes shifted wearily as bodies moved about without much consciousness, like a automated set of machines filing papers, typing orders and saluting whatever big-wig crossed their path. A small desk stood afoot of himself right in front of the doorway and Rupert stepped forward to the clerk jotting something down on paper with his pencil. “Excuse me, would you --” Rupert started, but found himself carried short of a breath as someone nudged inside the door behind himself carrying a large cardboard box full of papers. “Oh sorry Sir, no harm done?”[/I] the British corporal said with a faint apologetic tone, but hurried along quickly without pause for a response from Rupert who scowled the imbecile beneath his breath, thinking he ought to give the man a good seeing too for ignorance to a superior.

“Would I what sir?”[/I] the clerk queried with a quirked brow, looking as if he had better things to do than entertain Rupert. Smirking, Rupert licked his drying lips to speak once again. “Would you bloody well mind telling me where I could find any British superiors here?” he questioned to the clerk, not seeming too happy in the slightest. “Oh, you haven’t been told sir? The British are setting up a separate - second if you wish - headquarters within the town’s church. A lot of Allied officers have been shipped over to this part within the last week. Most of the Americans will be stationed here for now, the British have moved into town”[/i] the clerk said with a smarmy tone, seemed as if the both of them weren’t having a good day. Rupert nodded, replacing his officer’s cap back upon his head with a stiff pull and simply said “thank you” before leaving back through the doors he’d just passed through. It wasn’t bad news after all that the British decided to set up a headquarters of their own, it was common sense to keep your affairs separate in any case.

As Rupert walked out, he looked around for any couriers available to take him down into the town, but it seemed as if all the jeeps present were already waiting for someone to come out or blatantly made themselves look busy under the hood of the vehicles, making repairs or final touches. Sighing, he stood there seeming like a plum, weighing up his options on either taking a long stroll down the narrow roads towards the town or waiting for a vehicle to free up, which didn’t seem all that soon. “Bleeding blighters” he murmured to himself, giving the drivers a stern stiff glare from the corner of his eye, knowing most of them were larking about on their hides, so they didn’t have to do anything. “Looks like I’ll be walking then…” he murmured again to himself, straightening up and starting a steady pace towards the manor’s iron gate entrance, simply walking out onto the gravel road to make his way towards the town - slowly.

[Leon Farchester]

A slow exhale mixed with air and smoke made its way out of Leon's mouth, a puff of smoke just flying everywhere before fading into the sky like brothers in arms. The Sergeant had a calm face, just taking simple smokes before playing a game of trying to put them into different shapes. It was futile but he just wanted to pass by the time.

The Field Headquarters was placed outside a rural village that had British Troops and American alike but despite them both being allies tensions ran high. Each side had different views obviously, however it got to the point where saluting to each other would be a painful chore. The mixed ranks of British and American floating around was unsettling for the most although the British now made their headquarters in a church within town so it would be better relations by not being near each other.

Leaning against a balcony ledge, looking over the surrounding area as it was littered with Jeeps waiting for whatever specific person. It was pretty stupid in Leon's eyes as he was probably one of the few blacks in the army who didn't take crap from anyone because of his race. Hes seen more combat than the average 2nd Lieutenant and knows how to command units better too. But once in awhile, theres a respectable officer with incredible combat prowess who looks past the color barrier. Rarely did a black man meet such a soldier but when they did, happiness followed after.

Putting out his cigarette before whipping his arm to the side, throwing it away, he went back into the headquarters as he walked down the stairs with a steady pace. The clerk looked flustered with plenty of paperwork but Leon paid him no mind as he lowered his head with a short smile before stepping onto the dirt road. The sun's heat rays was quite uncomfortable but compared to the African sun, Leon scoffed at it.

"Well, looks like theres a CO. Can't let him head into town by himself, now can I?" mumbled Leon to himself as he simled, walking towards the man but then diverted his course to see if he could get a jeep. One of the couriers went to take a "break", sleeping behind one of the buildings thinking that no one would notice. Leon sighed, as the keys were even left in the jeep. Hopping in, the Sergeant turned on the car before driving it slowly towards the Lieutenant before stopping next to him.

"Hello Lieutentant, Sargeant Leon Farchester. You would like a ride?" said Leon, as he saluted. He spoke with a tranquil voice but it seemed slick. He simply waited for a reply, before driving at a reasonable speed to whatever location the Lieutenant was going. Hopefully, it was into town.

[♔ Rupert Crawford]

The walk back towards town was at least three quarters of a mile away through winding narrow country roads and across uneven terrain that raised and fell like a bowing ship astern an approaching storm at sea. The thought of walking back wasn’t relished, but Lieutenant Crawford knew he could set his own pace and enjoy the scenery for it was worth, so long as he didn’t dilly-dally along the way and either get himself lost or lose track of time. He needed to report to duty immediately, he’d only just arrived in France two days ago by boat and was eagerly thrown into the slog of traffic heading inland through Normandy. He’d garrisoned his platoon within the town a couple of hours ago and made haste in getting to the headquarters to report his presence and find out what on hell was going to happen next; now he was doubling back on his self with a grim look on his face at the prospect of having a long walk back into town.

As Lieutenant Crawford turned out onto the dirt road just outside of the manor, he slipped a hand into his breast pocket and pulled out an immaculate map of France that hadn’t seen much use, if any. Folding back the corners and holding it open with both hands in front of himself, he scrunched his nose a little and began to determine where he was exactly for a clean route back. Any other man would have asked for directions, but Rupert had a stiff upper lip and would have rather pulling teeth than losing any sense of dignity or pride. He was foolish at the best of times, but most officers were when retaining a self preservation of a grand stature of class and status. Rupert wasn’t royalty, but being an officer in the military was close enough to having luxuries a majority couldn’t have.

Lowering the map before himself and looking across a pantry of green field ahead towards a small herd of milling cows, Rupert began to wonder whether he could take a shortcut, but then the thoughts soon faded as a vehicle moved on up alongside himself and a voice attracted his attention completely. Bestowing his eyes upon a black man behind the wheel of a jeep, wearing his majesty’s crown insignia with a few defining chevrons on the sleeve, Rupert couldn’t help but smile as he was offered a ride. Folding the map down into a neat little parcel, Rupert stepped towards the passenger seat of the jeep and nodded to the Sergeant as he began to climb into the vehicle. “Don’t mind if I do Sergeant” he simply accepted, which may have seemed like he was abandoning all sense of pride or dignity in making his own way back into town, but in Rupert’s mind, he was being chauffeured back, which made him feel more prestige undoubtedly.

Removing his peaked officer’s cap for the second time, Rupert twisted the rear-view mirror attached to the foldable screen of the jeep and looked at himself. In two days he hadn’t shaven and a small stubble had began to grow through, it was one thing having a quick wash, but another when there wasn’t enough time to shave or unfold a fresh pair of trousers for the day ahead. “Need a ruddy good shave when I get back” he muttered to himself, rather than the Sergeant beside him. Leaning back, Lieutenant Crawford looked to the Sergeant and observed him a little as he drove them - presumably - back into town. “So you’re from the seventh armoured division sergeant?” he questioned, looking sternly at the desert rat fabric patch he would have had sewn on his tunic arm. “Unfortunately for you, so am I” he soon said afterwards, grinning a little as he turned to look forward at the road ahead, fumbling into his breast pocket for a silver compartment case that held his cigarettes and matches; a twenty-first birthday present of his that now came in handy from keeping his paraphernalia dry and clean.

Slipping out two cigarettes and a few matches, he clapped the silver case shut and dropped it back into his chest pocket. Placing a cigarette upon his lips, he didn’t even ask to see whether the sergeant smokes as he simply put the cigarette behind the man’s ear and said “there’s a cigarette for later, but don’t smoke whilst you drive, I don’t fancy being in a ditch” he said bluntly, thinking back to the time a young boy driving a taxi back in London almost had him railroaded by a four ton lorry, all because he was trying to light his cigarette and steer the vehicle simultaneously. Perhaps this sergeant had more brain cells than a London cabby, but in Rupert’s mind, the sergeant hadn’t earned his trust nor respect to be even smoking in his presence full stop. Rupert was an old fashioned dog, he paid tribute of kindness for the ride, but didn’t expect to giving much pleasantries. He was the ranking officer and with the sergeant being in the same division as himself, he had to exert discipline accordingly to keep ranks, whether they were his own platoon sergeants or not.

Sitting quietly thereafter, Lieutenant Crawford sparked a match and lit his cigarette with cupped hands to protect from the on-coming wind as they drove along. Tossing the match away soon after, Rupert puffed on his tobacco like a gent and plucked the cigarette from his mouth with his two fingers scissoring the filter, making the most of the fresh breeze. He didn’t even think much about a black man being in the British military or fighting for Britain, his great grandfather served in the Boer War and he was accustom to seeing pictures of black men in British fatigues, not to mention seeing Indians in British fatigues too, during his travels across Asia. So to Rupert it didn’t make a blind bit of difference, so long as the man performed his duties as sergeant accordingly and so forth. He could only have imagined the stick the sergeant must have endured however…

[Leon Farchester]

Nodding, Leon let a smile creep across his face before stepping on the gas pedal slowly. The car came back to life, moving forward and leaving a cloud mixed with dirt and dust behind it. The Lieutenant was heading towards the manor it looked like, however Leon turned away from that direction, swerving the steering wheel so that he would be heading into the town. Despite the heat a welcoming breeze hit Leon's face, the jeep handling the dirt road very well. Leon studied the Lieutenant quite a bit in the short amount of time he was driving, noticing many things on road and off. The Lieutentant looked quite green even though he was in the 7AD which was probably one of the more elite divisions that the British had.

Glancing at the mirror's movement, he heard the Lieutenants remark about needing a shave. Its been quite awhile that Leon himself had a shave but then again, he felt that it wasn't really needed. Chuckling, Leon noted, "A shave you say? Once you get into combat you will have more things to worry about than some extra hair." Now having a smirk on his face, Leon nodded at Rupert when he was given a cigarette. He actually had ran out of cigarettes so now he had a spare. The town was only a few moments away, the jeep slowed down before entering the main entrance to the village.

British soldiers were moving around everywhere, with the church to the northwest having the most activity and most traffic it seemed. Despite being a small rural town, the town square wasn't small. A field hospital was there, the red cross showed on almost every piece of clothing and equipment that the medics had. Jeeps could be seen moving too. Almost every building was occupied, either by NCOs or by officers. Trying to maneuver out of the sea of people, Leon stopped the jeep as they had arrived in front of the church. Getting off, he lighted a cigarette while the flame so that it would be easier.

"Lets head in shall we? I believe whoever in there can get you a nice place to stay and keep you updated on whats happened," remarked Leon as his tranquil voice came back, followed by a puff of smoke slithering out of his mouth and disappearing into the air. Just like fallen comrades.

"HEY BLACK TRASH!" shouted some soldier in the distance. He was a Private, but Leon didn't mind.

"Nice to see you too George!" replied Leon, continuing on with his smiling as he headed in, hoping that the Lieutenant followed suit.

[♔ Rupert Crawford]

Taking a good ol’ stiff drag on his cigarette, Lieutenant Crawford exhaled the plume of smoke against the passing breeze as their jeep veered along a small winding country road. His mind wandered vaguely as he sat quietly, listening to the engine hum and the birds tweeting from near and far, that was until the sergeant remarked about having more important issues to be dealing with than a shave. Rupert grinned and flicked his ash casually, giving the sergeant a slow look that merely suggested there’s always time for a gentleman to have a shave, whether that be in the face of death or otherwise, a gentleman was always suited and booted to the nines for any occasion.

The village soon came into clear-sight and the jeep slowed considerably as the buzzing crowd of bodies along the road were milling back and forth. Soldiers, locals and vehicles, with the odd stray dog wandering the sidewalk. Momentarily Rupert felt slightly smaller than he had previously, as the sea bodies and general activity of the town was quite immense for what should have been a small rural setting with just the odd local or two. As the jeep veered to a halt in front of a church with a guarded entrance at the iron gates, he knew the sergeant had brought him to the right place, particularly as he noticed a group of officers swarming into the large wooden gothic doors of the church with their anxious faces bowed from the sunlight.

Climbing out of the passenger seat slowly, Rupert replaced his officer’s cap back upon his head with a firm pull against the back of his skull and wriggled his service belt up against his waist properly, wanting to seem informal and nicely tucked. Watching the sergeant light his cigarette, Rupert made his way around the vehicle to approach the sergeant at his side as the NCO spoke about going in and finding out where the lieutenant would be; Rupert couldn’t help thinking that the sergeant didn’t need to hold his hand for this part of the journey, but nonetheless allowed the man to lead the way, only to be insulted by a soldier on the nearside. Immediately Rupert froze and looked to the sergeant for any kind of reaction towards the insubordination clearly displayed - but none was given. Taking one last inhale of his cigarette, Rupert flicked the cigarette at the soldier’s feet and approached the man with a stern glare from beneath the visor of his peaked cap, glancing towards the nonchalant sergeant who attempted to ignore such a remark, insult.

“Sergeant Farchester, come here” Lieutenant Crawford ordered in a stern tone, standing before the insulting soldier who seemed to shrivel up inside and go very quiet, standing awkwardly as he looked towards the sergeant and back at the lieutenant with a flimsy glare. “What’s your name soldier?” Rupert demanded in a calm collective tone, before snapping at him in mid flow to hearing the man answer “-- and for Christ sake private, straighten up and salute when in a superior’s presence. I’m not playing ruddy ball games here” the lieutenant berated, making the soldier stand stiff and salute, eyes up front and chin perked up as he sputtered out; “Lieutenant! Private George Henry sir” whilst giving a firm handed salute. “Now sergeant… Are you going to deal with this type of insubordination in front of an officer?” he questioned towards the sergeant, not really expecting him to answer, but rather act on the matter.

Crossing his arms, Lieutenant Crawford waited for the sergeant to deal with the private accordingly for insubordination. Whether that be warning him, punishing him or making a note to talk to the man’s superior as soon as possible, he frankly didn’t care, he just wanted to see some discipline exerted and again, ranks kept where they should be. Sergeant Farchester held the rank of a respectable man, NCO, who had to handle the recruits day in and day out and even lead these men into battle. He hated to see the outcome of such idiotic behaviour displayed on the battlefield, these men needed knocking down a notch and the sergeant needed to regain the respect for his rank, disregarding the race issue.

[Leon Farchester]

Stopping in his tracks Leon turned around with a nonchalant look on his face, tapping the end of the cigarette with his thumb to let the ash touch the ground. The Lieutenant did not look like a happy camper, far from it indeed. But it gave a chuckle to Leon to see a CO act like an actual CO. A new wave of proper soldiers? He doubted it but it entertained him to think about it. Most officers in the British army thought they were above everyone but not in rank. Simply in humane things, treating everybody like trash and the like. Its the reason Leon is who he is today, he had to be thankful for that at the most. Beyond that, he couldn't wait for them to be shot in combat. They all were horrible leaders, so Leon was hoping to lead a kind of re-form, but he had to gain the ranks to do so. A aspiration you could say.

Following the orders of Rupert, Leon walked up to the Private while listening to the Lieutenant discipline him but leaving it mostly to Leon. Such a calm but firm voice came from Rupert as if he was mimicking Leon. Throwing out a large sigh and looking at the private with a not-a-happy-camper face, it was time to be a bit more serious about the situation. One of his flaws was that he didn't take most things seriously, laughing at most problems in life. Dropping the cigarette, Leon's figure towered over the privates or thats what it seemed.

"So George, how long have you been in service?" he asked calmly, being the good cop. He had known George for a while, only through reports though. A prankster who liked treating the CO's like trash, mouthing off to other soldiers and being a rather big bully in that regard. Leon had seen worse, but he would have to take of this problem. He couldn't look incompetent to a CO that was right next to him.

"Uh, Uh-3 months sir," answering back, pretty much stuttering all over himself. Chuckling one more time, Leon put his hand on the Privates shoulder. He gave him a rather cold and deathly stare, kind of changing the surrounding atmosphere. Gritting his teeth a bit, Leon smiled while he spoke.

"Listen here my boy. I've taken your insults for awhile now. So lets do this, Call me any racist remark again and I'll make sure your the first one sent right into a German bunker. Oh, and don't drop the soap next time your in the showers."

Finishing what he would call a rather fitting scolding, Leon turned to Rupert once more, sighing once more before asking, "Hopefully I took care of it to your liking Lieutenant. I'll wait outside by the jeep while you go inside, incase you would like to be taken anywhere else. I'm free for the day."

[♔ Rupert Crawford]

Obeying orders, Sergeant Farchester turned and approached Lieutenant Crawford’s side to deal with the situation. Rupert wasn’t one for making ranking non-commissioned-officers or commissioned officers disciplined in front of insubordinates, but ranks did have to be kept and the private before himself did indeed display a horrible trait of insubordination; not just on the Sergeant’s behalf, but in front of a superior too. Rupert didn’t care what nicknames they called one another back in their bunks or even on the battlefield, but duly in the presence of a ranking officer, such language wasn’t to be used. Friend or foe. Even German officers were treated with the decent respect they deserved as prisoners, ironically.

Standing stiff and stern with his arms crossed against his broad chest, Rupert watched silently as the Sergeant berated the soldier upon his behaviour. Rupert couldn’t say how he’d personally deal with the situation, but he assumed the private learned his lesson nonetheless, just by the cowardice look upon his face and also hoped the Sergeant learnt a valuable lesson in keeping discipline with the men. It was one thing for a soldier to respect the man in the uniform, but another for all men to respect the rank regardless and Sergeant Farchester held the responsible rank that would earn him the ultimate responsibility of leading more than a handful of lives into battle one day soon. If the men didn’t take him seriously during the darkest of hours, then what would they take serious?

As the Sergeant finished berating the soldier, he turned to the Lieutenant and pondered on the notion that he had done enough to handle the situation well. Rupert’s lips perked a little and his eyes wandered over towards the soldier standing-too at attention still. “Very well Sergeant, dismiss Private Henry here” he said with a blank tone, giving the private a long stare from under the low hanging visor of his peaked officer’s cap, gradually pulling his attention away to focus upon Sergeant Farchester at hand. “And I shouldn’t be a moment Sergeant, perhaps you could take me to the company’s quarters afterwards” he said with more of a tone to his voice, before turning and walking dead-beat onwards towards the church doors, acknowledging the salutes as he passed inwards.

--- Small time jump here, just to save boredom ---

Several minutes later Rupert emerged from the church holding an A4 sized portfolio under his left armpit and a large haversack draped over his right shoulder, dangling at the right side of his waist. Heading towards the Sergeant and his vehicle, Rupert nodded in a friendly manner, hoping they didn’t need to salute every time they met in each other’s company again when they weren’t around other ranking officers who’d notice and heavily swung the brown haversack into the back of the jeep with a heavy thump. Moving into the passenger seat, he cradled the portfolio folder against his lap and draped back his left sleeve to make note of the time upon his wristwatch. “Alright Sergeant, let’s head for the company quarters, I’ve received my billet and need to drop a few things off. I’ve been told our company quarters is just outside of town. Captain Brentwood said we’re staying at an abandoned farmhouse for the meantime, officers take the house, non-commissioned-officers get the outhouses and subordinates have the two barns on the field. I was hoping you’d know the way ol’ chap?” Rupert said with a quirked brow, wondering whether Sergeant Farchester did know the way or not? He was in his company after-all, if not his platoon.

OOC: Sorry about short post, but gives you more to write about with the journey there and such. Thread should pick up then, perhaps we could even gather the men for a training exercise upon arrival or whatever? Loads of options to pick from there on .

[Leon Farchester]

Assessing the situation with his keen observation skills, Leon sighed while inhaling some of the fumes before exhaling it back out as a small wind with fierce smells. It was rare to see a Officer like Rupert, all proper with the highest etiquette and with high expectations of most things. Despite what they say in the American propaganda and whatever the army says to the public about the Geneva Convention and other regulations the Axis have to follow is all total bullshit. Well, to Leon anyway. Only one rule exists in war and that is to win. Nothing is ever followed by the book, newbies find that out not even within a week of being deployed. Sucks for those who don't. Knowledge really is power.

Tapping the end of his cigarette with his thumb, the gathered ash fell off the tip and gently dropped to the ground. Being done with his smoke, Leon dropped the cigarette altogether before he took a step forward towards Rupert, stepping on the cigarette simultaneously. He had to put it out, no one needed a fire in their HQ in the middle of a damn war. As Rupert went into the church, Leon nodded to acknowledge the Lieutenants question about taking him to the Company Quarters. It was reasonably a bit of a travel from where they were, incase some magical mortar strikes or airplanes came by dropping bombs, the main fighting forces wouldn't be affected in terms of losses but supplies would be gone pretty fast.

That was Leon's logic anyway, he didn't know what the hell Liam was thinking when he decided where to place his soldiers. He should talk to him about that, get to know him in the meantime. Sounded like a plan to Leon as he turned around towards Private Henri who began inching farther and farther away from Leon ironically.

"Henry!" exclaimed Leon, with a rather stern and serious face. The private jumped and now had goose bumps all over his body, shivering as if he was in Russia butt-naked. "Y-Y-Yes sir?!" he replied in quick succession.

"Your dismissed," chuckled Leon, scaring the poor private out of his wits. "No racial slurs from now on, you understand me? Anyone from now on who displays insubordination whether they are your mother or a hooligan officer, is gonna be knee deep in shit with me. Tell that to my squad by the way if you see'em," commanded Leon, being serious for once. He had to start taking the war seriously, he didn't need his own soldiers turning into traitors on him. It wouldn't be fun, at all. Henry just ran off shitless and now knew that there was gonna a change with Leon's attitude. Rupert was rubbing off onto Leon, he didn't like it much.

As Rupert stepped out of the building he notified Leon about the abandoned farm house that was our company's quarters. Leon knew the way as he slept there last night. He sat into the jeep, put in the keys before turning them, then driving casually to their destination from the ever so busy village. It was good to get out of there, it began to get too crowded for Leon. While he had one hand at the wheel, the dirt kicked up behind the two, with the jeep wheels spinning at exceptional speeds. It was gonna be a simple drive, then again, nothing is simple with Leon.

"I hope you don't mind me asking Lieutenant Rupert, but do you have any experience in combat out of training? Alot of greenhorns come through that little village, so its hard to tell who has experience and who doesn't," noted Leon while he kept his eye on the rather undeveloped path, with a tree-line on both sides. They reached a crossroad with no signs but there was a Private on guard duty there apparently, who was in charge who went through and who came out.

"Halt!" shouted the Private as he held his hand out flat. The jeep slowed down to a complete stop as Leon nodded at the Private while asking, "What seems to be the hold up Private?"

"I'm sorry Sergeant, but who is the Officer? I haven't seen him before. Can't let you in without identifcation," he inquired, apparently not noticing that Rupert had 7AD clothes and everything. Leon just sighed with the amount of stupidity happened in his day-to-day duties, as he put on a stern face.

"Liam told him to report to his quarters. Thats an objective to say the least. Now, do you want to get in trouble with LIAM, of all people, just because you cannot notice that he is in the 7AD and have people waiting for him?" He actually hadn't met Liam, but from all of the stories, it has to be true. No doubt about it.

"U-Um, I am sorry Lieutenant. Please, go thorugh," said the Private with utter defeat. He looked quite down. "Sorry about the scolding, I'm just doin my job," replied Leon as he swerved to the left, onwards to the Company Quarters.

(OOC : I'm seeing a repetitive pattern to my posts. I just thought you could handle the arrival to the Company Quarters as you see fit, you didn't mind. I can change the post if needed.)

[♔ Rupert Crawford]

Sitting idly quiet and once again enjoying the few pleasures of the countryside as their vehicle sped along, Lieutenant Crawford thought back to his time in Kent and the blossoming countryside he used to see daily. He missed home, the real home, where no Jerry dared to fear the heart of his nation and everyone carried on with their daily lives as per routine, either enjoying the buzzing life of inner London or recouping themselves on the outskirts of London either along the coast or inland towards Manchester or Birmingham for a fairytale holiday with the missus. Yes, he missed home, the real home he knew.

Feeling his thoughts disperse as the sergeant spoke, Rupert’s eyes coursed towards the moving mouth of the sergeant and strained to hear what he was saying as the engine began to hum loudly, as if it impatiently demanded to be notched up a gear. “Experience sergeant?” Rupert questioned back with a stern look, finding the question a little ballsy for a soldier to ask his superior whether he was worthwhile in combat or not. Rupert couldn’t blame the sergeant for asking whether he could confide his confidence in his superior’s ability to fight, but such questions were usually reserved to one’s self, due to their insulting relevance in not trusting your superior’s position as a commander. Lieutenant Crawford went silent for a moment, reframing from becoming a little annoyed that the man would inquisitively ask such a question that doubted his belief in trusting Rupert, what if he were a true green officer? Would the sergeant hesitate to take him seriously? Rupert smirked to himself, he did have some experience to boast about at least.

“Dunkirk sergeant” Rupert simply said, giving the man a faint glimpse as he concentrated on driving carefully. “I was in Dunkirk” but the Lieutenant didn’t say anymore, as he fixed his eyes straight ahead and kept quiet, not really wanting to talk about the mass tragedy of the entire British Expeditionary Forces’ retreat back to mainland Britain, because the bleeding French buggers didn’t have enough guts or brains to hold a simple line against the German assault into France. What a shamble that turned out to be, a lot of good men died due to lack of communication, brains and the French. Rupert wasn’t one for being a hypocrite, he too has made mistakes, but what came to be Dunkirk was the biggest mistake in the history of warfare to date during their second-world-war campaign and Rupert was ashamed more couldn’t be done to prevent it, when it easily could have been.

Their vehicle approached a checkpoint thereafter and Lieutenant Crawford twisted his head to look at the guardsman on duty, doing his job quite well Rupert thought. After a berated breath between the sergeant and guardsman, the Lieutenant didn’t get a word in edgeways, before they set off again leaving Rupert slightly dumbfound at why Sergeant Farchester had berated a guardsman for doing his job and even spoke of the company commander by his first name; asides the fact he sounded like a tyrant? Rupert’s brow itched to ask questions at what just happened back there, but was succumb to distraction as he noticed the approaching barn and farmhouse dead ahead at the end of the winding dirt-road they were travelling along.

As the vehicle veered to a halt, Lieutenant Crawford didn’t move from his seat and directly looked at the sergeant to speak. “In future sergeant, I wouldn’t berate someone doing their job. I could have been a spy and who says I’m not? You’ve taken my word that I’m an officer of the seventh armoured division. Lucky for you that I am, otherwise you’d be dead” the Lieutenant said in a teaching manner, not really wanting any spies of outsiders within his company so damned easily if they were ushered through checkpoints without the correct procedures. Not only does that put his own life at risk, but everyone else’s too. Rupert was indeed a very textbook based officer, but it was also common sense that kept them alive more times than not.

Climbing out of the vehicle and tucking the folder up beneath his arm, Rupert looked towards the farmhouse and then peered off towards the open pastures towards the back of the farm, where the outer buildings were. “Tell me sergeant, between me and you, why did you refer to Captain Brentwood in such a manner, back there at the checkpoint?” he curiously asked, wondering what was wrong with Captain Brentwood. He seemed rather normal to Rupert having met him a short while ago to get his billeting and orders, so what was wrong with him? Rupert was indeed curious, as he stood there waiting for an answer as to why their company commander was used in such a tone back at the checkpoint, as if he were a tyrant or Hitler himself.

[♔ Rupert Crawford]

OOC: If this thread has died, can we close this please? Thanks.
~Danny

[Erdmann Hoesslein]

OOC : This is Leon btw. Yeah, I'm sorry PuNk!. I would like for this to be closed

[Edward"Butcher"McMillan]

Moderation Post:

The following CP has been issued:

Crawford - 8CP

Farchester - 6CP

-JT