Fire from the Heavens...[3ID only; two maximum]

[Nicholas Ealing]

Location: Minor 3ID Base, the North of England.
Time: 02:15

Nicholas Ealing opened one eye.

A yellowing piece of paper was to the side of his unshaven face as he lifted his head from the old, wooden desk. He shook his head drearily and the document, a memo from LT/Colonel Nixon detailing the early stages of OPERATION STORMCROW floated to the floor. The Lieutenant rubbed his tired eyes and glanced at the overhanging clock. 2:15 A.M. It was the third night in a row where he had fallen asleep at the desk.

He had a lot of work to do. He hadn't been to the front for over a month now and had been allocated as something of an office boy; doing bugger all but signing documents and reading through files and dossiers. Nicholas half-wondered if the Captain was deliberately trying to keep him from the front line but then, maybe that was just paranoia. He had certainly picked up his fair share of mistrust and suspicion from his years on the battlefield.

It was dark outside; the drizzly rain the Lieutenant would forever associate with Northern England drummed a tattoo against the window pane and furious stormclouds hovered above the small American base. It was the only 3ID barracks located in the British Isles and held only a small garrison of troops. It was as good a place as any to send Lieutenant Nicholas Ealing to get some work done and to rendevouz with elements of the British Army.

Nicholas was rather proud of his office. It wouldn't win any awards but it was homely. A golden picture frame showing the Lieutenant, his wife and son stood cosily on the desktop, a huge map of the world was pinned to the wall and a portrait of the officer himself hung below the ceiling, his smile infecting the whole room with a sense of cheerfulness. A mass of paper was stacked on the desk, most of them with TOP SECRET or CONFIDENTIAL branded at the top. Important documents. Vital documents.

The Lieutenant was just thinking about going for a late night stroll when he heard it. And saw it. And felt it.

A resounding whistle and CRASH sounded nearby, followed by the deafening, unmistakable sound of an explosion. The window pane shattered; huge, red flames flickered out of the window, licking the tarmacadam sky.

For a second, the Lieutenant froze. Bombs, he thought to himself, his dry, chapped lips mouthing the horrific word. A German air-raid. The location of the barracks was classified; this couldn't be a targeted attack. Doubtless, the Luftwaffe had picked a random town to blow the stuffing out of. And the 3ID Barracks was smack bang in the middle of the assault...

Where the hell are the RAF when you need them?

As if shaken from a daze, the officer surged forward. Bombs were still dropping, raining death down from the skies, and the terrible sounds were mingled with another. Screams. Nicholas knew he had to do something; warn the rest of the men? Get them to the best shelter he could find. Anything.

He stumbled towards the door, grabbed his coat and cap from the hook and turned the doorknob ---

A huge inferno seemed to launch itself at him there and then. It threw him backwards, rag doll-like into the far corner of the room. The ceiling crashed down on top of him, trapping him under countless tonnes of rubble. He could hardly breathe.

"Help..." he managed to croak. "Help..."

OOC: Basically, massive bomb raid. 3ID barracks is being pretty much ripped to shreds and Nicholas is trapped under a coupla tonnes of rubble. Have fun with the destruction of the base.

[Ben Shirley]

The night was somewhat silent, with only the sounds of rustling bushes and the wind occupying the outside. The 3ID base near the British Isles was having a normal night as ever, aside from Ben not being able to sleep. His eyes looked blank, just strangely looking at the ceiling while laying down in bed. Ben didn't think much of his mother, or his girlfriend back at home. He had more important things to think about, like protecting his cousins and brothers. What else could he think about with like 6 grenades appearing by his side every 2 seconds? They were all Ben's mother had, if they all died, only god knows what she would do. Most likely commit suicide, because Ben would sure hell would. It probably runs in the family.

"Arrgh! I can't sleep to save my life," thought Ben to himself as he got up from his bunker bed and dropped to the ground, landing on both of his feet. He began to stretch, as well as yawning a small bit. Looking around the room, he noticed Joseph had his eyes opened. He couldn't sleep either it seems.

"Joeseph, Get your ass up. You know I can't sleep when I get a bad feeling," ordered Ben, as Joseph followed suit with a frown. He tried to wake himself up, and after about 10 minutes he prevailed. Now that his senses were up to par, Ben along with Joseph moved across the gray walled hallways of the 3ID base. The large window panels were on their right-side, giving a nice view of the city. But, looking up towards the horizon, something big in numbers was moving. A buzzing sound got louder and louder, as if it was a persistent mosquito. Then, the dreaded whistling was heard far away, getting closer, and closer, until an enormous explosion occurred as the barracks caved-in on itself. Bodies then came hitting earth head first, but it didn't matter since they were dead already.

Debris and small sized rocks hit Ben's back and he held his head down to protect his eyes. But, there was no time, they had to get out of their. Main priority was to make sure the Lieutenant was alive, and that most of the equipment survives. Literally slapping the back of Joseph's head, Ben shouted, " Get moving and make sure everyones alive. Get ammo, and the lightest weapons possible. Make sure they are strapped to your person tighter than a nun's ass!"

Ben got up on his feet, and sprinted through the halls. Now everyone was alert, and the only explanation was the usual bombings of London. The best chance most of the men had of not dying was getting tot he underground subways, where most of the citizens. Getting to the office of Lieutenant Ealing, Ben opened the door and saw a pile of rubble right there. By instinct, he thought Ealing was right under there seeing as the room was decimated.

"Tell me if you are there Lieutenant! I'm clearing your airway!" said Ben, at the same time moving as much rubble as he possibly could, trying to figure out where his head was at. Most people died of suffocation when they got buried alive, and this was no different. One of the Sargeants appeared, coming through the door and dropping to the floor while helping out Ben get through the rubble. It made the job alot faster, as they finally got through and found the Lieutenants head. Pulling him out as carefully and swiftly they could, now Ealing had his arm wrapped around Ben's shoulder as he used him for support.

Joseph was busy getting everyone organized and trying to do his orders. Most of the men agreed to his orders simply because it was common sense, and they wanted to get the hell out of their with some way to defend themselves. It was no surprise that everyone began to haul ass, but it was more than usual.

Looking at Ealing, Ben asked, "What are your orders Sir?! We cannot stay here for long and the underground subway might be the safest place, if you do not mind me suggesting!"

[Nicholas Ealing]

Nicholas could hardly breathe. He was drowning in a sea of chalk and rubble and grey. He was trapped under what had once been his beloved office. He could move a couple of fingers and that was just about it. One of his arms was broken and most of the left side of his body was pretty much completely numb. The rubble lay over his entire body, choking him, crushing him. Killing him.

He managed to move his head a fraction of an inch, the great weight bearing down on him close to crushing his skull and stared upwards. If this was what dying was like, then it wasn't all that bad. It was almost...nice. Peaceful.

The dull buzz of the planes above, the yells and screams of his comrades, the horrific whistle of the bombs...they all seemed to mingle together and turn into music. Lost among the rubble, he listened to death's song and smiled. It didn't hurt anymore. Nothing did. Not as long as he had the music.

And suddenly, he heard voices. Someone was making his way through the destroyed mess and had kicked through the shattered door. The Lieutenant tried to move his head so as to see the newcomer but his neck was pinned firmly to the ground.

"Tell me if you are there Lieutenant! I'm clearing your airway!"

Shirley. Corporal. Fantastic. His life was in the hands of Ben bloody Shirley. He tried to murmur something in the corporal's direction, but no sound came out. His windpipe was crushed under the weight of the rubble. It was strange; every great building in the world, every great marvel of architecture...in the end, all they came down to was rocks.

Nicholas could now hear a smattering of voices. Another man had just charged in and was helping Shirley clear the rubble away. He was surprised at their strength; they dragged the huge stones away as if they weighed nothing at all, fighting through the rubble to free the officer. The stone stabbing into his windpipe was removed, allowing Nicholas to breathe properly for the first time in what felt like a decade. He felt firm hands grabbing his body and was, at last, dragged free from the wreckage.

He stumbled forwards, forgetting the awful twinge in his broken leg, and was caught by the Corporal, who supported him in his disorientation. The other two men, an enormous Sergeant, and a private who could only have been Shirley's brother, were breathing heavily, exhausted. They had deep scratches along their hands and their uniforms were coated in soot. These were his rescuers, it seemed.

Shirley was talking now. "What are your orders Sir?" he asked. "We cannot stay here for long and the underground subway might be the safest place, if you do not mind me suggesting!"

To the Lieutenant's sore head, the corporal's voice seemed to resound across the room, more like a roar than a suggestion. He blinked a few times and tried to ignore the pain that was spreading like wildfire across his body.

"North...England," he explained, every word an agony. "No...tube. No...subway. London..." he gestured vaguely, still unable to completely comprehend what was happening. "We...should get to the...hangar. Safer."

[Ben Shirley]

Ben did feel his head hurting a bit, and Lieutenant Ealing must of had some kind of damage other than to his body. The ground rattled and shaked its own foundations to the core, with large sized craters filling the landscape. Tall buildings toppled over, making loud noises as glass and debris hit peoples faces like a shock wave. The skies filled with bomber planes and dark skies, and now it was starting to rain heavily. It did look very grim, with low visibility, it was a raining, buildings were toppling over randomly, and the loud buzzing noise of engines roared into everyones ear. Shrieks and screams of little girls and grown men were heard all around, most came from the base itself.

Now most of the important people were assembled, it was now time to haul ass and get to the hangar. At the beginning of the bombing, they were getting pretty accurate. But now that it has prolonged somewhat, a lot of the explosions occurred away from the base and other people. Call it a sixth sense, but Ben knew that it was time to push towards the hangar now. Looking at Joseph, and then at the sargeant, Ben rose an eyebrow while saying, "Lets get moving, Sarge, I am all yours!"

"Very Well! Everyone, go to the hangar as instructed by Lieutenant Ealing! No slacking and make sure to keep moving! GO GO GO!" shouted the Sargeant with his Thompson in hand, running out of the base as a squad of privates and a corporal followed him. Joseph and everyone else of Ben's squad were with them, moving at a leisure pace due to Ealing's injuries. They needed a medic, and god gave them a blessing when someone with a Red Cross on their helmet passed by.

"Hey, hold up! The Lieutenant needs help, we need him up and ready to go so we can get to the hangar safely!" said Ben as he called to the Medic, one hand extended out. Taking Ealing's hand off of his shoulder, Ben tried to lay him down against a wall. But, he stayed close to him, so that he was able to pick him right up and get out of their.

The medic checked on the Lieutenant as fast as he could, with much accuracy as possible. After a few minutes, he was done and it seemed Ealing just had some sores around the ankle that would make even walking painful. He simply put morphine, before leaving Ben and Ealing to themselves.

"OK, Joseph, take the other side. We are going to run fast, and if you hear a loud whistling sound, get into the closest crater you fuckin see. Its safer than being in the open," said Ben while Joseph followed his orders. They ran at full speed, holding the weight of Ealing which was quite a feat. Looking from side to side, it was all out hell. Some soldiers were dying on the floor, crying with their leg blown off. The head of a little girl was infront of Ben, and he just tried to not look at it. The hangar was in sight, as it looked like the running of the bulls with the entire base trying to get to the hangar in time. But he wasn't ready for a stray bomb that magically had direct accuracy. The second that Ben finished his step, an explosion occurred behind him, causing him, Ealing, and Joseph to fly forwards while doing a somersault. They were lucky, landing on their butt into a crater.

"Holy shit...that knocked the wind out of me..." noted Ben while shaking his head.

[Nicholas Ealing]

If Nicholas had thought the eye of the storm had passed, he was wrong. It was only as he staggered out into the biting, early morning air that he noticed the full extent of the damage. Buildings were smouldering, quarters razed to the ground. Nicholas knew with a heavy heart that had he slept in his own bed that night, he would be dead by now.

"Everyone, go to the hangar as instructed by Lieutenant Ealing! No slacking and make sure to keep moving! GO GO GO!"

The men moved forwards, the dull light of the moon guiding their path. Bombs were still dropping, the great flames lighting up the sky, doubtless letting the enemy know exactly where to attack. More and more bombs were dropping with each passing second, more and more buildings were destroyed, more and more men were blown into oblivion.

Shirley rested Nicholas against the wall of a barracks. The Lieutenant leaned against the structure, heavy, rasping breaths rattling in his lungs. The corporal signalled for a medic to see to Nicholas' wounds, and, dipping in and out of consciousness,
Nicholas was vaguely aware that the doctor had injected him with a shot of morphine. The pain instantly dulled but then, so did his senses. The Lieutenant was suddenly faced with the extraordinary sensation that he was...swimming.

Shirley tried to lift him to his feet, but Nicholas was limp, numb and semi-conscious. "Leave me behind," the Lieutenant managed to murmur. "Go on without me. I'll just...I'll slow you down..."

The corporal ignored him and, aided by the huge Sergeant, supported his weight and stumbled onwards. For the first time in his life, Nicholas felt a great deal of affection towards the young corporal.

And then the bomb dropped.

Nicholas saw it briefly, clearing a path through the midnight sky, until a flash of light, a deafening roar and the smell of smoke seemed to slug him in the face. He was blown backwards, torn apart from Shirley and the Sergeant, and smashed back down to the ground.

He opened a groggy eye and glanced around. Everything seemed quiet all of a sudden. The first wave, his subconscious told him. It's over. But the second is coming. He sprang to his feet and suddenly realised that he was now standing in a crater.

Nausea engulfed his sytem as he realised that the edges of the huge hole were stained with blood, guts and slivers of brain. The Sergeant was dead; he lay, eagle-spread, his skull cleaved in two by the deadly hail from above. Nicholas allowed himself a split second of mourning before turning on Shirley. He was unharmed but was, as always, babbling.

"Holy shit," he swore. "That knocked the wind out of me..."

Nicholas crossed over to the young corporal, held out a hand and smiled. The man had more or less saved his life and he would not forget it. "You don't say," he said, helping him up. "Now, unless you want to be devoid of wind for the rest of your life, I suggest you move. Now!"

The companions sprinted towards the steel hangar, adrenaline coursing through their veins. Nicholas wrenched open the heavy door, pushed through the entrance and slammed it shut behind him, breathing heavily.

They were safe. For now.

[Ben Shirley]

Trying to gain back the sense of his surroundings, Ben was kind of disoriented from the flying and landing. But the words from Ealing knocked Ben right back into reality as he saw him running towards the steel doors. Getting up from his spot, dusting off his pants, Ben looked to the right to see the Sargeant dead and gone. It didn't bother him much, with the body laying there lifeless in a pool of blood. But he had to take his mind off of that, so Ben started hauling ass while he moved swiftly across the open field.

The small clanging noises of equipment was commonly heard most of the time, while the swishing of water inside canteens was common aswell. The dirt crunching under the boots was kind of annoying in the ears, but a soldier had to worry about grenades and bombings more than the dirt itself. Micheal and Kevin were in view from the distance, and neither were wounded which was a relief to Ben. The MG Team was already inside the hangar, saving a good piece of equipment from destruction.

Now Ben picked up the pace, not even noticing the big gash on his leg. Adrenaline was the only thing keeping him from feeling the pain and toppling over. Staying close behind Ealing, Ben jumped through the opened steel doors and was safe from harm. He looked behind him, the loud bang of the door closing. The Lieutenant was panting heavily, but so was Ben. Wiping the sweat off the left side of his forehead, Ben simply made a remark, "You are a soldier's soldier Lieutenant. It sure was hell out there..."

Ben panted a bit more, with his brothers sitting by him. They did small talk, but nothing major or anything important that could be heard.

[Nicholas Ealing]

"Thank-you, corporal," said Nicholas, placing a friendly hand on the soldier's dirt-splattered shoulder. "Sincerely." And then, turning away from the young man, he moved over to where the huddled masses were lying, battered, bruised but very much alive. Nicholas felt his heart sink. Of the garrison of nearly three hundred, only about forty men were present. Had the others found safety or had they fallen victim to the hail of death? "Is everyone alright?" he asked loudly, realising in an instant that he was the only officer in the room. "Answer me."

"Been through worse than this, sir," said Sergeant Norrington, the Yorkshireman, spitting through a mass of broken teeth. His face was bloodied and he was covered from top to toe in sludge. He looked more like a disgruntled farm labourer than a liberator of Europe, but Nicholas knew the man as one of the finest NCO's he had ever commanded and was relieved to see that he was still standing.

He walked up and down the line, limping slightly, as he looked into the faces of the few survivors. Old heroes and young boys alike stared back at him, some of them sporting horrific injuries, others merely exhausted. They had all been through a lot and most looked empty, haunted, scarred - they had seen their best friends dying and screaming before their eyes. "Have we lost any equipment?" Nicholas demanded, taking control of the situation.

"Corporal Havers left, sir, with the halftrack," piped up Sergeant Norrington. "Went to look for any survivors under the rubble. Bomb took him down, and the halftrack with him. He were a good man, sir."

"Halftracks we can replace," he muttered lamentuflly. "Men like Havers we cannot." He sighed and hung his head. "Listen out for any more explosions. If the sky is clear for the next seven minutes, proceed out into the open. There must be survivors. Somewhere."

"Yes, sir,"

Nicholas turned back to Corporal Shirley. He removed his brain-splattered greatcoat and threw it to the floor in disgust. "We're going to be just fine, corporal. I give you my word."

[Ben Shirley]

Ben nodded back to Ealing, acknowledging his thanks with a smile and a salute. He sat there on the floor, trying to collect his thoughts momentarily. Ben observed Ealing as he took control over the situation, and he walked with his head high and with excellent leadership skills. Ben simply imagined himself like that, being the main role model, being a soldiers soldier. It was something that would inspire him for a long while.

The losses were medium sized, losing a Half-Track, some of the best men in the army, and a deep cut into morale. But all of this could be regained, except the men. Luckily none of the men under Ben's command were lost, and much of the ammo/equipment from the base was saved during the bomb raid. Everyone was battered and bruised, usually with minor sores or serious injuries. Ben didn't know if it was a serious injury or not, but he looked down his leg to see a somewhat big gash. Big blood loss would occur if not treated, but Ben simply was careless as he ignored it.

"We're going to be just fine, corporal. I give you my word."

Ben looked at the Lieutenant, and got up from the ground to give him a report.

"If the situation is in your hands Lieutenant, I'm positive we will be. Now, all I know is that I got the MG team and their ammunition here safely. Alot of the soldiers here are injured, whether it be minor or major, we are in need of medics. They were either blown up or went into hiding and if I may suggest sir, I believe they are our main priority. I also believe we should check on the radio equipment, maybe we could get someone to reinforce this base?" suggested Ben, not wanting to sound too demanding or try to take command.

[Nicholas Ealing]

"A lot of the soldiers here are injured, whether it be minor or major, we are in need of medics. They were either blown up or went into hiding and if I may suggest sir, I believe they are our main priority. I also believe we should check on the radio equipment, maybe we could get someone to reinforce this base?"

Nicholas nodded. "You're right." He turned to the bulk of men who, although still shaken, seemed to be getting to their feet. "Any medics amongst you?" A few shaking hands shot up into the air. "Help the wounded as best you can. Anyone else with any - any - medical experience, give them a hand. I don't want any fatalities here. You're all going to get through this, OK?"

The medics got to work instantly. Nicholas knew them well enough to know that they'd get the job done and so turned back to Shirley. "Sending a message is too risky right now, corporal. Outside help would be appreciated but I can't risk any reinforcements getting caught in the raid. No, we're on our own for now." Nicholas glanced around for a second and then moved in closer.

"There's something that's been worrying me, corporal," he said slowly, as if unlocking something in his mind as he said it. "Why on earth would anyone want to bomb this poky little village? London, yes. Liverpool, Birmingham, Manchester, Cardiff, yes. But here? It doesn't make any sense." Nicholas breathed heavily. "I think the target was me. Someone wants me dead, corporal. And they damn near succeeded if it weren't for you and that...that poor Sergeant..."

Nicholas took a step backwards and ran a hand through his blood-matted hair. "You saved my..."

The sentence was interrupted by the horrific sound each man in the hangar had come to dread. The slow, sombre whistling of a dropping bomb. Coming straight for the hangar. "Brace yourselves, lads," Ealing murmured, hoping the building would hold. Hoping that no more blood would be spilt tonight...

[Ben Shirley]

Ben was happy that he could help manage the situation a small bit, seeing as the Lieutenant liked his suggestion. The Medics started moving around quickly in a flurry, injecting morphine and placing bandages where ever they went. He observed them sightly, but turned his attention back to Ealing once he saw his mouth moving.

"Sending a message is too risky right now, corporal. Outside help would be appreciated but I can't risk any reinforcements getting caught in the raid. No, we're on our own for now."

Ben nodded, understanding this worry. What use were reinforcements if they were just going to get blasted by the bombings? Had Ben become a CO later in his years, he would learn from Ealing first. Tactical thinking, predicting the enemies movements, making sure every men is in fighting condition and also taking in everyone else's ideas is key. All of this was noted inside of Ben's mind, but he then leaned closer to Ealing as to hear his concerns.

"Why on earth would anyone want to bomb this poky little village? London, yes. Liverpool, Birmingham, Manchester, Cardiff, yes. But here? It doesn't make any sense."

The heavy breathing was getting annoying, but Ben tried to brush it off. It was something serious, and he only could try and comprehend. But, it was true, it didn't make any sense. The best thing Ben could think of was possibly they mistook this village for something more important. But how would they know the location of this place? Maybe there was a traitor in the ranks, a spy of some sort. All of these conspiracy theories really did made a soldier get tired fast, but it was all in a day's work.

I think the target was me. Someone wants me dead, corporal. And they damn near succeeded if it weren't for you and that...that poor Sergeant..."

Ben tried to put in his own opinion, "If I was trying to kill you, which i'm not, I would just use the expertise of a sniper. They are more effective instead of wasting resources on blind bombing raids. But-" Ben was cut off from the loud whistling noise that signaled something was about to drop hard. He braced himself as best as he could and then began to shout, "Everyone! Brace yourself for impact!"

Then, a loud explosion happened, then a clang from steel followed up afterwards. Debris and rocks were the norm, but this time it was of unimaginable amounts. The air felt tainted, and it was very hard to breath. Dust clouds slowly made their way around, but screams couldn't be heard. Four soldiers had died to fast to even feel pain, or even know it. Blood spattered across the floor and decimated wall, with a large hole left in the roof. The aftershock left Ben dazed once again, but he shook it off and stood up while looking around.

"Everyone OK? Medics! Check anyone for additional injuries. I believe the Death Storm has passed but lets stay here for a small bit. Keep your hopes up!" shouted Ben to see if he could get the morale back up, if any had been lost. Now the big gash on his leg was starting to drip medium quantities of blood, so a Medic came to him seeing as he was able to notice it.

"I will patch you right up Corporal..." said the Medic to himself, before cleaning out the wound and then wrapping it tightly. Ben denied the morphine, not wanting his systems to slow down.

"Thanks. But, I think this is discouraging if I may say Lieutenant."

[Nicholas Ealing]

The room seemed to come alive in a tornado of fire and dust and blood and death. Nicholas shielded his eyes instinctively as the roof was decimated by the onslaught. When he opened his eyes again, he could see that a huge section of the hangar had come crashing down on a group of cowering soldiers. They were crushed under the great rocks before they even had a chance to scream. They had died as they had lived; confused, helpless and in blind, silent horror.

The others had been more fortunate. Only the middle section of the roof had come tumbling down and therefore only a fraction of the refugees had been caught in the onslaught. They were buried underneath the rubble, a makeshift grave for the unlucky few. But others were moaning, grunting and wheezing, announcing to the world that while they weren't exactly in a good mood, they were at least alive.

A medic hurried over to Shirley, bandaging a nasty looking gash on the corporal's leg. Shirley seemed to be wincing, but if he was in much pain, he hid it well. "I think this is discouraging if I may say, Lieutenant" he said, as the medic got to work.

Nicholas grunted in answer. Of course getting blown up was disgouraging to the men! Only a very strange soldier would enjoy getting his face blown off. Nicholas didn't say as much to the young man; he had saved his life and that counted for something.

"Right, all of you, get the wounded out of the mess! Slowly and gently, lads, slowly and gently! We don't want any bones being unneccesarily broken, now do we? Good work, men! If anyone's hurt, please signal to a medic to be treated. No gritting your teeth and baring it. If you're hurt, let someone know about it!"

The Lieutenant moved around the hangar like a bolt of lightning, issuing the men with as many orders as he could think of. A private was lying in the far corner of the room, his face ashen, his uniform stained red with blood. Elsewhere, a Sergeant Major was being pulled out of the rubble by two hulking corporals. He was sobbing to himself; his spine had cracked under the weight of the ceiling. A few men, most of them green recruits, sat against the wall, their eyes wide and hollow; shell-shocked by the massacre they had witnessed.

Suddenly, he arrived by a huge pile of rubble where Sergeant Norrington and a group of other NCO's were hard at work. Lying, trapped under the destruction, was a familiar face.

He was lying in agony, only half-conscious. His arm was bent in a peculiar shape, crimson blood flowed from his chapped lips and white bone poked through a vicious wound. He was an African-American and had Nicholas not known any better, he would have sworn that it was Ben Shirley lying so pathetically among the rubble. It was Joseph Shirley.

"Corporal!" Nicholas yelled. "It's your brother! Get over here, now!"

[Ben Shirley]

Orders were being barked, the chain of command was coming into play, and the medic finished patching up Ben quite nicely. He dusted off his pants, while raising an eyebrow at Ealing's grunt. Ben probably said something to irritate him, but Ben just kept on observing his movements as he had nothing better to do than small talk with his brothers. But, then something hit him hard : Wheres Joseph? He had seen him coming inside the hangar, but maybe the last bomb put him under the rubble? This idea was confirmed when a shout from Ealing caught Ben's ear.

It's your brother! Get over here, now!

Ben got up from his spot, and turned around for a short second to call on the rest of his brothers and men. "Kevin, Micheal and Chris! Come over here! I need a medic and some muscle!" ordered Ben before making a short jog to the pile of rubble. Kevin began clearing the air way of Joseph with quick speed, with Micheal and Chris starting to get the arms and legs out of the way. Ben helped here and there, but he was there to just get him out. A medic was right there on stand-by, and possibly helped with the morale a bit for the family.

Soon, the rubble was cleared and Joseph couldn't be moved due to his injuries. But, they made his current spot as enjoyable as possible, having him leaning on the wall. A stretcher was found, and he was put on it. Atleast three medics were working on him, just having him being able to wield a gun and run. It didn't take long to get the injuries done, taking away most of the pain. He was going to recover, which showed delight in Ben's face.

"Wow, that hurt. Alot," noted Joseph with a split-second wince.

"Just don't start moving around too much or else we are going to get more problems than we need. Hopefully this raiding has stopped, but your just going to survive this and be able to get back into the fight. What would I say to Anne if you died by a bomb? I'm pretty damn sure little sister would prefer you dying by a bullet with honor than by a stray bomb," said Ben joking around a bit, making Joseph chuckle and the rest of the Shirleys. Wiping off the sweat from his forehead, Ben turned back to Ealing.

"I thank you Sir for the help with my brother. Looks like we are even now, me and that Sargeant saved your life, and you save my brothers. But, I think there are more soldiers injured under rubble outside Sir. Is it safe to say the storm has passed?

[Nicholas Ealing]

Nicholas had barely closed his mouth when Shirley arrived at his side. His eyes seemed to widen as he recognised his brother lying so wretchedly under the rubble but soon snapped into action. Nicholas took a doubtful step back as the Corporal yelled at three men nearby to give him a hand. They got to work immediately, scrabbling through the makeshift tomb that had once been the hangar's roof, desperately trying to free the young man. Nicholas was, again, impressed by Shirley's strength; he cleared the way to his brother commendably, sure enough given a surge of power by desire to rescue his brother. Nicholas, aided by a couple of nearby privates, managed to dislodge a particularly heavy piece, but it was Shirley who did the brunt of the work and soon, his brother was free.

A stretcher was brought over and he was tended by the exhausted medics. Nicholas made a mental note to make special mention of the medics in his report to Captain Patterson; there were few men able to work so commendably at half past two in the morning, just seconds after a nerve-wrecking bombing raid. The combat medics were all too often the true heroes of the battlefield, content to wait in the shadows as the soldiers were applauded. Maybe one day they would get the recognition they deserved.

"I think there are more soldiers injured under rubble outside, Sir,". It was Ben Shirley. He had torn himself away from his brother's side to discuss plans with the Lieutenant. "Is it safe to say the storm has passed?"

Nicholas had to think for a moment. The sky had been clear for some time and the final bombing of the hangar had seemed awfully...final. Added to this, how many bombs could the enemy even spare? It was logical to assume that the raid was over.

"I think so," said the Lieutenant thoughtfully. "And they're going to need us more than ever..." Nicholas turned back to the bulk of the force and whistled loudly.

"OK, listen up, boys. There are people out there, dead and dying. Not just our lads but civilians in the village. And I for one am not going to skulk in here while there is a chance we can save a few of them. Sergeant Major Wycliffe," he said, turning to a disshevled looking Senior NCO. "You're in command. You and your men are to remain at the base. Put out fires wherever possible, salvage any battered equipment, free any survivors from the rubble."

"Yes, sir," said Wycliffe, wiping his forehead with his cap and generally looking sorry for himself.

"As for the rest of you," continued Nicholas, turning towards a good dozen men, led by the Rocherath veterans, Sergeants Norrington and Harvard. "You're coming with me. We're going to head into the village and do what we can to help the poor buggers. We're taking the truck ---Keys?---"

A ruddy-faced engineer who had been skulking by the heavy vehicles tossed the keys into Nicholas' outstretched hand. His fingers closed around them and, proceeding cheerfully in a bid to keep morale as high as possible, pulled open the convoy truck's doors. Another engineer had the brains to open the huge hangar doors and Nicholas flashed him a grin for his trouble.

The chosen men bundled into the truck, Sergeant Norrington taking the wheel. He put the keys in the ignition and twisted. The truck instantly came to life with a very satisfying roar. "Come on, then," yelled Nicholas, throwing a truck door open and grinning at Shirley. "Are you coming or what?"

[Ben Shirley]

The jingle of keys were heard as it was flung through the air to be caught by Ealing. Looked like it was ROAD TRIP time. Ben was besides the Lieutenant when he grabbed the attention of every man, giving them orders and commanding respect. It seemed like most of the men were going to stay at the base and salvage what they can, Ben just automatically assumed he was going to stay aswell. But, once Ealing opened the door and asked Ben if he was coming, he made his way along with Kevin and Micheal to the Convoy Truck. Kevin and Micheal got in the back, with Ben getting in alongside Ealing.

"If I may say Lieutenant Sir, the women and children should be our first priority. Me and my men can keep a good look out for them, if you believe this is a good approach," suggested Ben with a casual look in his eyes. He rested his arm on the opened window, his elbow barely outside. Ben's eyes were fairly good, and he looked around the small piles of rubble alot.

Once they entered the village, everything was basically decimated and dead bodies were everywhere. Some were even headless. The small elementary school caved in, and it looked like blood was there in huge amounts. A leg was dangling on top of the roof of a house on the left side of the road. The door was missing from the entrance, and the ground was full of craters, making it a difficult path to follow. A slight cry was heard from Ben's ear, sounding like a cry of a woman.

"Stop the truck!" said Ben before getting out of it, moving to where he heard the sound. It was getting closer and closer until he was right in front of a big pile of rubble and rocks. Hearing the shuffling sound of boots crunching dirt, Kevin and Micheal got out from the back and went along with Ben. They started using their strength, adrenaline kicking in as the pile got smaller and smaller, revealing something unimaginable : A pregnant woman!

"Lieutenant! We have a pregnant woman here!"

"T-The...children..." the woman tried to say, but Kevin simply asked to save her strength. Leaving Micheal with her, Kevin and Ben went and tried to look for the children that the woman had mentioned before.

OOC: I'm finding my posts repetitive

[Nicholas Ealing]

OOC: Maybe this'll make things a tad more exciting.

The truck rumbled down the lane to the village. The base was only a half mile or so away from the town centre and so it wasn't long until they approached the devestation. The closer and closer they got to their destination, the putrid stench of smoke grew more and more overpowering. Nicholas wrinkled his nose. It wasn't just smoke; it was the smell of fear, of blood. Of death.

Nicholas wasn't surprised to see that most of the roads had been closed; the main route into the village had been all but destroyed by the raid and so Norrington took a winding road around. The Lieutenant and his men had grown restless. They had glimpsed the horror and wanted to do something about it. Everything and everyone was silent.

At last, they arrived at the village. Nicholas tried not to look at the corpses that littered the road. There was nothing he could do for the poor townsfolk. "Get us to the chapel," said Nicholas, tapping Norrington on the back. "We can make a start there." Norrington nodded grimly and took a left turn. But, suddenly, Shirley let out a yell. "Stop the truck!"

Nicholas span around to see the corporal and his brothers leap from the truck as it trundled along. "What do you think you're doing?" shouted Nicholas, but they had already vanished. They had presumably gone off to help as much as they could, but Nicholas was irritated. While he was fairly certain that the immediate threat was over, he was much more comfortable when all of the men were together. Who knew what could happen to the brothers in the darkness?

"Look, sir," said Corporal Lynch, glancing out of the window. Nicholas followed the young man's gaze and saw it. A trio of planes, nothing but specks in the distance, waving the village a bitter goodbye. Just seeing the planes set Nicholas' blood alight. The destruction they had left in their wake wouldn't be set right in many months.

Nicholas was still quietly suspicious that he, not the town, had been the target and was overcome with a sense of guilt. Had all these people died because of him? If that was the case...he doubted he would ever forgive himself.

The truck drew to a stop. As rhe men stepped into the freezing night air, Nicholas had half a mind to go after Ben Shirley but decided against it. He had no idea where he had got to. He breathed out lamentfully as he looked around him, a jet of steam issuing forth from his mouth. He glanced up at the retreating planes and something suddenly caught his eye. His eyes widened in surprise.

A paratrooper.

He looked like a stick-man, floating down to earth, parachute billowing behind him. He had descended from one of the planes and was gliding down towards the village. Nicholas could imagine his task; gathering intelligence, sabotage, assassination. His blood ran cold as he realised that maybe, just maybe, the man's task was to kill him.

Nicholas' companions had seen the man as well. Each man was experienced in the way of war and not a single one hesitated. They opened fire on the parachuting stormtrooper. They missed his body by inches. But every stray bullet sliced into the fabric of the parachute, puncturing the man's one safety net from plunging to his death. The man looked surprised for a second, dangling in the air like a cartoon character. And then he fell.

He plummeted down, his mouth open in a silent scream as g-force raged against every fibre of his being. He only fell for a few seconds, but to the German it felt like a lifetime.

But all lifetimes come to an end.

He fell, hovering over the chapel and then, brutally, viciously, horrifically, his body crumpled over the railings. Spikes tore into his flesh, one into his throat, one into his stomach, one into his groin. And, engulfed in an unimaginable pain, he died. Amid the destruction, no one even noticed him. Apart from Nicholas and his companions. They hurried over to where he lay, twitching horribly as his system shut down. "He's dead," said Corporal Foster, a tad unneccesarily.

"More must have parachuted down back that way," asserted Sergeant Norrington, repulsed at the man's death. "Back where--"

"Where Ben Shirley got out," said Nicholas, finishing the Yorkshireman's sentence. The men span around. There were hostile agents in the village, doubtless ordered to kill anyone who stood in their path. And Ben Shirley was inches away. "Bugger," murmured the Lieutenant. And he meant it.