Here today... (Open)

[Sergeant Brandon Martin]

Brandon was laying on his bunk his hands behind his head as he stared at the bunk above him. He was feeling home sick and after a few moments he closed his eyes. He could picture his mother in the kitchen cooking up some of her delicious home cooked Portuguese food. Or his father sitting by the radio with a newspaper, a cigarette in his mouth and his spectacles on his nose as he scrutinized the sections concerning sports or the economy.

"You know Maria I'm telling you this war couldn't have come at a better time" His father began flipping through his paper.

Brandon's mother a short and slender woman with piercing blue eyes and jet black hair walked into the dining room and looking across the room at her husband in the living, simply shook her head and placed a pot down on the center of the table. The table cloth was was white with gold fringe and an elegant portrait of flowers in it's center.

"You know Michael I hate when you mention this war" His mother said with scorn in her eyes.

Brandon rose from his seat at the base of the staircase and walked across the living room and dining room into the kitchen to help his mother. He pulled a bowl filled with potatoes and assorted vegetables from her hands and grinned.

"O come now mom you know as well as I do dad's right. I mean look at it this way, with all this war comes jobs. Someone's gotta make the guns,ships,planes, and tanks don't they?" He finished walking away. He placed the bowl next to the pot and upon removing the top he was delighted to see and smell the aroma of spiced pork that tickled his senses. His mother stormed over at grabbed the top from him slamming it back on the pot.

"And at what cost?!" He began pointing at him. "Young men running off throwing away their lives so others can live better? What sense is that" she finished stomping back into the kitchen.

Brandon hung his head then swung it over in his father's direction. His father simply grinned and shook his head.

"You know how your mother is...she just doesn't get the idea of patriotism" He added hiding his head behind his newspaper as Brandon's mother re-entered the dining room muttering angrily under her breathe.

"And what about Amanda? Hmmmm? You ever think about her and how she feels about all of this?" She said narrowing her brows and shaking her head.

At the mention of her the doorbell rang. Brandon rushed over to the door and opened it. In the door was his future wife. She stood at 4'11" and was no more than 100 Ibs tops. She was in body sense so much different from Brandon it was astounding. She smiled up at him and leaning in gave him a kiss. He smiled and the too walked hand in hand into the living room.

"O my future daughter in law how are you" Asked Brandon's mother from the kitchen her mood seemingly changed in no time. Brandon's father chimed in "Yes my girl how are you" He asked looking up with a smile.

She bowed politely then looked up. "I'm doing well" she piped in a broad smile still on her face.

"Well then come now everyone eat, eat dinner is ready" Brandon's mother said setting down the rest of the dinner needs.

Brandon rolled in his bunk. He was now snoring loudly and seemed to be in a very deep sleep.

"Brandon can I talk to you?" Amanda asked as Brandon's parent went back into the kitchen to prepare the desserts.

Brandon nodded and they walked out of the house. As they stood on the front steps of his house he looked around. He could see the Providence river and the street lights made everything glow a warm gold. He looked into his fiance eyes as she gazed back at him.

"I-I don't know how to say this Brandon but...I-I" She began looking away.

Brandon turned her back to him before blurting out "What is it babe?"

As she turned back to him she had tears in her eyes and her mouth was contorted into an unsure smile.

"Brandon I'm....pregnant"

Brandon's eyes snapped open and he sat up in his bunk. He looked around and shook his head before laying back once more.

[Steven Beckerson]

The middle aged platoon leader would look grim as he stared. The others around him on a round table looked a little fidgety all the while. Steven would look up at them each in turn.

"Throw down the cards, lads."

[/left]

Each of them in turn would throw down a pair of dirty, crumbling and cracked cards. As he looked if anyone looked well enough they'd be able to see the faintest of a curl on the edge of his lips. Throwing down a pair of Aces as he did so. Not even having to say it- All of them were able to anticipate what he was to say. Read em an' weep, kids. One of them would rise, grunt and leave. Steven would chuckle. He wasn't happy about the fact he lost his 'stuff'. Then there was Retcher, grumbling about his loss. Then the others were just talking among themselves. But Steven would stand up himself. Picking up each of the objects in turn. One of the 'chaps' didn't look to happy about losing his signatory lighter. Albeit a lighter with no gas. Not to mention the apple. Steven would pick it up, bringing it up to his mouth and taking a chunk out of the granny smith.

"I'm out before any of you take this away from me. Hehe."

Steven would then begin making his way down the bunkers. Almost in plain sight of the rest of them, pivoting himself around a corner and into the Sergeant and above dormitory. Privates and such got their own other dormitory. Steven would look around, finding his bed as a commotion appeared in front of him. Another Sergeant looked ahead of him. Not to many bunks from him either. Steven's boots clanged with a cold thunder as he walked down the dormitory, into his own little 'private' section that was just merely had curtains around it. He'd put his objects down in there before heading back outside to where the the other man lay. His arms would become crossed, and he'd stare at the Sergeant.

"Hello Sergeant. Feeling a little rough?"

[/size][/right]

[Sergeant Brandon Martin]

Brandon sat up rubbed his hands on his face.

"Hello to you too Sergeant" He said shifting and sitting on the edge of his bed.

The memories of his dream still haunted him. Pregnant? How would he be able to act now knowing when he came home he would be a father. His eyes glassed over for a second but he quickly blinked and looked back over at Sergeant Beckerson. Brandon rose from his bunk and extended his hand. For a hand shake.

"Sergeant Brandon James Martin" He said looking over at Beckerson. "Are you new to the platoon?" He asked looking him over.

He had never seen the man before. He seemed to be an older man though that could be an easy mistake. As he leaned back against his bunk he looked around his bunk. Nothing. No more lucky strikes.

"Man what I would do for a cigarette" he thought to himself.

[Steven Beckerson]

"Staff Sergeant."

Would be the first reply of Steven, correcting the Sergeant. But nonetheless would pull out his hands from the crossed position and would shake his hand. Before he'd put out a stop sign, he'd retract back and move into his own quarters. Placing down his items. Not the apple though. He'd pull off his formal wear, not having any use for he wasn't in action at the moment. But he could be back putting it on within any split second. So taking another chunk out of the apple he'd speak his own name, half full of apples.

"Staff Sergeant Steven Beckerson, and no. I've been in the army for seven years and counting.

He'd chuckle before swallowing the green thing. Sitting down on the unoccupied bed to the side of Brandon. Shrugging as he did so. Steven's gaze would then come from the floor, rising up the bed, to the body of Brandon, then to his face. He'd blink slowly. But then he'd stand up while pulling out the standard issue knife. Bringing himself back down to sitting on the bed while playing with the knife.

"What brings you to the army?

Steven would say, quite curious in why a oriented man that technically wasn't of a US origin was yet to be sitting here in all of the places in the world. But then again this area was allied. But it just seemed odd to be in the presence of someone whom was of a different origin other than American. But yet such a change was a good influence. And a negative one, depending on what others tended to think of it. But he'd shrug mentally, not showing any physical signs of doing such.

[Sergeant Brandon Martin]

"Why am I here?" Brandon asked quizzically.

He shrugged before looking the man up and down. He seemed like a very strong man and that was only evidenced by his comment on being in for 7 years.

"Well I suppose I'm here for the same reason everyone is, to serve my country" He said proudly pulling out his standard issue bayonet.

"I was born and raised in Providence, Rhode Island down by the river. My father always told me stories of his times during World War One and I always had this image of me doing the same thing. So when this whole thing started it was a given for me to join up. I just hope we can all keep intact and get home safely to our families" He said flipping the knife skillfully through his hands.

The blade flipped and rolled and then he stopped. He looked over at Beckerson with a sheepish grin and thoughtfully he asked,

"What about you I mean whats your reason's for being here? What's your story"

As he finished he slid the bayonet back into the scabbard and rolled over onto his stomach.

[Sergeant Brandon Martin]

OOC: Theres been no action in this thread for some time can it be closed?

[Ben Shirley]

OOC: Your supposed to post it here if you want it closed.

[Edward"Butcher"McMillan]

Moderation Post:

The following CP has been issued:

Martin - You had a great intro post...then your posts just died off, dunno why really, three posts, two below minimum standards - 3CP

Beckerson - two posts at minimum standards - 3CP

-JT