The Range (Open to any member of the 3 ID)

[SGT. Brian Baker]

Location: 3 ID HQ, more specifically a shooting range
Country: France
Time: 1100 Hours
Weather: Bright, Sunny day with a brisk wind


Ah, finally, the 3rd Infantry Division and 3rd Armor Brigade HQ, at last, thought Baker as he approached the security gate. He showed the MP his papers, saluted him, and was then allowed in. The HQ was filled with life, with soldiers marching in formation and trucks moving in and out of the compound, delivering supplies to the Division. Boy, this was a glorious site. This is what Baker had trained for. He was glad that he was assigned to this Division. He had heard some great things about it, noting that he read in the papers back in the states that the Division played a crucial role in the D-Day landings. Another thing that caught Baker's eyes while reading through a phamphlet on the 3 ID, was the amount of leadership dedicated to America's finest. There wasn't anything better than fighting with your comrades, your new brethren, in battles that can end the war, that can save lives. To Baker, though, it was a personal vendetta to avenge all of those civilians who fell to Hitler's Iron Fist.

Taking a stroll through the dirt roads of the HQ, Baker found his way to the shooting range. There was only a few other soldiers there, all of them close together and they seemed to be having some sort of contest to see who was the most accurate. Baker was going to join them, but decided not too. He had nothing to wager with, nor did he know them that well. Instead, Baker went to a secluded area, separate from the others, and placed his bag next to a wooden crate. He then placed his M1 Garand on top of the wooden table, where men who had machine guns like the .30 Cal, the B.A.R, or perhaps a Springfield, could rest the guns tripod on it. Reaching into his right pants pocket, Baker loaded his M1 with the standard .30 Caliber cartridge and then stepped up to the line. There had been targets already set up, Baker raised his rifle and lined up his cross hairs with the target. The target looked like a Wehrmacht soldier, it holding a Kar 98k and aiming directly at Baker. The young Sergeant unloaded his entire clip at the target, tearing the cardboard target to shreds, before loading another clip into his rifle.

[Cpl. Robert Anderson]

Robert had been walking around aimlessly for about an hour trying to find something to do. He had alot of time to think about things and people back home. He remembered his favorite pasttime. Football. He had remembered being the middle linebacker of one of the best teams in Georgia. He remembered his best memory of the game when he Blitzed the quarter-back and knocked his helmet clean off. He smiled at the memory of his coaches laughing at the boy as he limped off the field. This was in the past now. Now he had to think about war. He had only seen one battle since he had joined. His trigger finger was getting itchy. He had been raring for another fight ever since that one ended. But since he couldn't get into battle quite yet he'd just do the next best thing. Go to the shooting range. The range was only about a ten minute walk so he thought, Eh, Why the heck not? Maybe if I'm lucky there'll be some competition.

He started making his way toward the range. He could hear rifle shots. M1 Garands to be exact. The standard infantryman's rifle. Dead accurate and sure was deadly. He liked his M1 good enough but, had always wanted to get a shotgun because he knew he was much better with it. He was a great marksman with the shotgun because he went Pheasant hunting almost every other weekend with his dad and a few other men.

Robert finally made it to the range. He spotted a few soldiers that he knew to be the "poser's" as he'd call them. These men talked a good game but, copuldn't shoot or fight very well. Robert always liked riling these guys up but, didn't really feel like it today. It didn't really matter how he felt that day. These guys were rowdy.

"Hey, redneck. You planning on trying to outshoot us?" One of the three men said. They were barely older than Robert maybe by a year or two. Robert just kept walking and didn't pay attention to 'em.

"You stupid hillbilly. I'm talking to you!" Another one said. Robert laughed at the way these men mocked him. He took the insults as compliments.

"Well I do have to say you guys really are dumber than you look." Robert said. "I sure enough am a redneck but, all that really matters is that you boys don't have respect for this this here redneck and since ya'll don't. I guess I'm gonna have to show you some discipline the way my daddy showed me." Robert said in a with a sneer at the three men's anger. He didn't notice the Sergeant that was only a few paces behind him. At that moment. He didn't really care.

[Mac Bargett]

For the most part, the men under Staff Sergeant Bargett’s command were quiet as they field stripped their rifles. Their number had doubled since the past week, as just a few days earlier Mac had been given control of a new squad of green replacements. On this sunny day the men sat around a large oak tree as they clean their guns, with the veterans on one side and the latecomers on the other. Mac and William Nan had both finished cleaning their instruments of destruction, and the Staff Sgt. was now resting his back against the tree, lightly polishing the walnut stock of his beloved M1A1 Thompson Sub-machinegun as he watched the rest of the men of the division plink their rifles off at the firing range nearby. The private though was on the opposite side, watching over the new troops as he told them a story to pass the time.

“Ok, so now the stukas are screaming down towards the farm and we’re all like ‘Where the hell’s Mac?’”

“They don’t need to hear about this, Nan.” Mac complained from his side of the wood.

“Of course they do, sarge. It helps them become part of the squad,” William commented before continuing, “So anyway, suddenly the sergeant comes running out of the outhouse towards us…”

“Private! That‘s not what… Mac shouted as he tried to stop Nan, but the subordinate continued, “no pants, just his skivvies. Then, just as he reached Mike’s foxhole, one of the Krauts drops a bomb straight down the toilet hole, blew his pants sky high, but more importantly, destroyed his wallet. How much loot did you lose, sarge?”

Defeated, Mac answered the question over the giggles of the other men of the squad, “About half, only got $30 dollars left.”

“Hey, I think I see a way to earn some of your cash back,” Pvt. Charles Fox put down his M1’s receiver and pointed towards the firing range, “There’s only one reason to have a bunch of guys standing around the firing range.”

“Yeah, gambling” Mac thought about for a few seconds as he stared towards the group of chattering soldiers before standing up and walking to Nan’s side of the shade, “Nan, your piece is cleaned right?” William nodded and placed the Garand in Mac’s outstretched hand. The Staff Sgt. grabbed a clip from one of the newbies’ jackets and jammed it into the rifle before tossing it on top of his shoulder, “Alright, I’m going to see what I can do, just get your guns finished then meet me over there. And don’t forget the Thompsonator.”

As he neared the firing range, Mac heard the middle of an argument between two enlisted men. Words like ‘redneck’ and ‘hillbilly’ were thrown around liberally, so Mac decided to wait and watch for a second, incase it gout out of hand.

[SGT. Brian Baker]

Baker continued firing off shots of his M1 at the target, until it was completely destroyed. The only thing left of the target was the German's head flopping side to side from the wind. Baker held his fire as he watched a soldier change his target. The young Private tossed the battered target to another Private, then caught another target. He nailed the target to the wood and turned to Baker, giving him the thumbs up. Baker nodded to the Private as he scampered off, away from the bullets that would be coming.

It was a glorious day for Baker. He had been on a boat for a few days with shit food, shit water, and no room whatsoever. The other soldiers on the ship were roudy, claiming that they would be the ones storming Berlin, that they would be the ones shooting Hitler right in the head with the rifle as he pleads for his life. Luckily for Baker, none of those men were part of the 3 ID, or from what he has seen so far at least. That was a good thing for him. It was a new beginning for him, a beginning to not let his past haunt him, to not let his brother's suicide distract him when he was in the line of duty with his new brethren. There was one thing that was starting to get on Baker's nerves...

A few stations to his left, there were a few men saying words like hillbilly and redneck. To Baker, this was a distraction and unnecessary. Putting the cartrige into his M1 and swinging it over his shoulders, he began walking over to the group. He noticed another soldier walking towards them, and from what Baker saw, he was a Staff Sergeant with the stripes on his shoulder. Baker didn't tense up, though. As he neared the group, one of the soldiers was a Corporal and the others were Privates (Are they, Robert? I'll mod it if they aren't.) Baker thought it would be best if he stepped in to try and prevent anything from starting. "Men, I could hear you all the way from over there. Now, what seems to be the problem?"

[Cpl. Robert Anderson]

OOC: Yes, Baker. They are Privates.

IC: As the men kept going Robert started feeling just a bit more angry as they said something about his mother that he just caught the tail end of. He took off his coat exposing his white t-shirt that had a few blood stains on it from where a Jap had bled through his coat during an ambush. Being in that setting Robert never thought he'd be in a more beautiful place than France. Beautiful places are always ruined, though. It just takes some time for someone to screw it up and that's what just happened.

The trees behind him blew in the wind sending a small breathe across Robert's face. It was cool and refreshing. He was calm when he started talking again. "Ya'll Privates should respect the rank. Not the man but, since you seem like you don't care I guess we'll have to settle this like men. I'll let you have the first shot." Robert said with a smile. He thought it funny that three Privates this scrawny would want to fight him. He took it almost as an insult seeing as he was two hundred and sixteen pounds. Not to mention that he was six foot five inches. He was probably four inches taller than the tallest out of the three.

One of the men were just about to come at Robert when he stopped and looked down at his boots. Robert knew exactly why. He heard the voice of, what obviously sounded like a superior. This just ain't my lucky day. Robert thought to himself knowing that this could be taken in a wrong way leading to his court-martial if this superior thought so.

Robert turned around to see a man who was a Sergeant. It was obvious when he looked at his sleeve where the patch was. "Nothin's the matter, sir. Just messin' around. I was just about to show these boys here how to defend from bayonet attacks." He looked back on the words he said and realized the loophole. This really ain't my day. He said again to himself.

[Mac Bargett]

It was blatantly obvious to the Staff Sergeant and probably everyone else what was about to happen when the corporal took off his jacket, revealing his filthy T-shirt. The Cpl only exaggerated the point with his comment about respecting rank and settling it like men. Prepared to pull the men apart the moment the ‘first shoot’ was thrown, Mac started to close the few yards between himself and the gang. But right before he got too near, another soldier addressed the crew, this man was a sergeant, who had just been peacefully firing his M1 down the range a few moments ago. His simple question froze the hostiles and even Mac and a few other innocent bystanders stopped what they were doing and turned to the sergeant. Bargett didn’t want to get involved in the argument if he didn’t have to, nor did he want to steal the subordinate’s thunder, so he decided to stay in the background, and watch if the other NCO could prevent a court marshal-able offence without dragging the Staff Sergeant into it.

Mac nonchalantly walked past the gang of now quiet privates as he travelled to an empty slot on the firing range. It took all of his willpower not to chuckle at the corporal’s excuse about ‘bayonet training.’ Even if he was to be believed, right there the sergeant had them on unsafe procedure at the firing range. Mac didn’t remember much about the rules and regulations of the base, but safety while in a live firing area was probably very high up there, near not hitting a superior officer and ‘loose lips sink ships.’

[SGT. Brian Baker]

If it is one thing that Baker learned while in basic, was gun safety. It was imperative, especially within Friendly Territory, that all soldiers learn gun safety. Everyone had been taught while in basic that gun safety can be the matter of life for you and the people around him. First off, it is common sense. You don't wanna be held responsible for getting someone wounded or killed. For example, when a squad was on a road march and two lines were on each side of the road, the men would have their rifles and submachine guns pointed to the ground, while men carrying larger guns like the Bazooka of the .30 Cal would have it slung over their shoulders or strapped to their backs. Again, it was common sense and a basic job that anyone could do.

Baker had gotten a quick glance of his surroundings; there were a few bystanders looking to see what he would do. He was a higher rank of any of these men and it was his job to act as a leader, even if they weren't under his direct control. The young Sergeant would have to conduct this matter in utter calm and self respect for himself and for the Corporal and Privates. To be honest, Baker could care less what a higher up would do if they thought what Baker was about to do was wrong. His next action would hopefully set an example to the men involved and show them what it means to be a true unit.

Staring at each of the Privates, they seemed to have their heads hanging low. Baker knew that they had started this whole thing. They called the Corporal names that Baker would probably have been pissed at too if he were from the south. He did hear the Corporal say to the Privates, Ya'll Privates should respect the rank. Not the man but, since you seem like you don't care I guess we'll have to settle this like men. I'll let you have the first shot., then when asked by the Sergeant what's going on, the Corporal replied, Nothin's the matter, sir. Just messin' around. I was just about to show these boys here how to defend from bayonet attacks, that's a no no.

Turning to the Corporal, Baker got right into his face and stared him right in the eyes. The Sergeant was slightly shorter than the Corporal, maybe about an inch or two. This wouldn't matter. He dared the Corporal to strike him, Baker was right in his face, almost like the DI's back home, but knew that the Corporal wouldn't. "Bayonet practice? In a firing range? Is that the best you could come up with?" said Baker in a soft tone, with a slight raise in his voice at the end of his sentence. This goes back to all those safety regulations that everyone learned back in basic. "Corporal, tell me, do you remember the number one rule while at the firing range? Seems to me you don't; that's safety, Corporal! The safety of you and your fellow soldiers! Do you think I am gonna let some fight break out at a live firing range and allow someone to get hurt or killed?! Do ya?!" Baker's eyes shot to the left to see what the bystanders' reaction would be like, but again, this was to drill into the Corporal's head, and the Privates', that safety comes first in the gun range, not just for themselves, but for each other.

[Cpl. Robert Anderson]

Robert felt the man walk up behind him. He turned quickly on his heels to face him. By the time he had done so the man was already in his face. Barely eye-to-eye. The man had to stand up on his tip toes very slighty. He heard the first words he said. Robert kept silent because he knew there would be more. He had been around superiors enogh to know that there's always a long lecture with every mistake. Robert listened to the next question that the man had for him. Due to the long pause he knew he should answer.

"No, sir. The only killing I'm gonna be doin' is them stupid swamp rats and krauts. If there's a problem with that sir. You're gonna have to deal with it." Robert said feeling quite angry. He felt for his rifle and coat on he table where he had laid them and picked them up while keeping his gaze on the Sergeant. "If you ever feel obligated to give a lecture. Keep on lookin',sir." He could tell already he and this Sergeant were going to have a problem. Someone's gonna kick him off his high horse one o' these days. I sure hope it ain't the enemy. He said to himself.

"Have a nice day...sir." Robert said while slightly clenching his jaw in anger. He hated being interrogated and looked down on by superiors. The Corporal had enough self-control not to lash out at the Sergeant and to even try and sound polite by addresing him as sir.

He turned his gaze to a Staff Sergeant. He nodded once and walked past him. He saw a small group of men just staring at him. Like he was some type of alien. He stopped, stared at them for a second, spit on the ground, then started walking towards the Mess Hall. It was just about lunch time. He had forgotten. He hadn't eaten any breakfast.

[Mac Bargett]

"Corporal, tell me, do you remember the number one rule while at the firing range? Seems to me you don't; that's safety, Corporal! The safety of you and your fellow soldiers! Do you think I am gonna let some fight break out at a live firing range and allow someone to get hurt or killed?! Do ya?!”, the Sergeant told the Corporal. Even though Staff Sergeant Bargett had a higher pay grade then the Sergeant, and was an innocent bystander to the whole thing, the NCO’s rant startled Mac, and for a moment he had completely forgotten he had a rank and was reminded of back in the day when he was a buck private at boot camp. Mac shivered away the weird feelings that came with the burst of memories that flashed over him. Memories of the last few months he spent in peaceful and beautiful Pennsylvania after he enlisted, first boot camp at the Carlisle Army Base, and then final training at Fort Indiantown Gap, before being sent across the Atlantic to a completely difference world. Lonesome, homesick memories.

The last few soldiers who had been still target plinking finally stopped and watched the small drama once the Sergeant gave his speech. So when he finished, there was complete silence among the firing range, probably most of the men were like Mac, lost in their thoughts, thinking about whatever old Drill Instructor shouted at them too much back on the other side of the world. But eventually the Corporal broke the silence, "No, sir. The only killing I'm gonna be doin' is them stupid swamp rats and krauts. If there's a problem with that sir. You're gonna have to deal with it…."

That part of what the Cpl said troubled Mac. While it was perfectly normal for some soldiers to use mild fights with their comrades to air out their frustration with being in a foreign land and having to on alert 24/7 surrounded by strangers, almost instantly escalating the situation to the same level with killing animals and enemies was a problem. A sociopath, one of the Army Psychologists-in-training Mac had known back in Carlisle would say. But then again, Mac was no doctor, he had barely more then the basic first aid you can read about on a bandage tin. And as the man says, ‘a little knowledge is a dangerous thing,’ so Mac would have to tread lightly, incase he was wrong. Even if Bargett was right, provoking the Corporal with accusations before the Staff Sergeant learned more would just make things worst, even dangerous. Again, Mac decided it was best to continue to stay in the background,

Another chill went up Mac’s spine as the man nodded to him, like he knew Mac was thinking about him. Mac returned the gesture and waited for the Cpl to turn away before walking up to the Sergeant. “Sergeant,” Mac’s quick salute was uneasy, more of a causal scratch of the forehead, “If there’s one thing I hate it’s Americans fighting Americans. Good job there deescalating the situation. But you wouldn’t happen to know the Corporal‘s name, by chance? He sounds like trouble. Someone should keep an eye on him.”

[Joshua Kennedy]

Joshua was new to the division, but felt he'd fit right in with everybody else. Joshua entered the range, feeling a little lighter. All this jogging around the base must be making me lose some weight he thought to himself. After taking some ammo for hiss M1 Garand, he lined himself up at spot number five. Five always seemed like a welcoming number to Josh, so it was no surprise that he picked such a spot. Joshua inspected his gun to find anything out of the ordinary, but everything seemed intact. Joshua put his rifle up to his face, and looked down the sight. Joshua crouched, looked at the set up target, and fired

BANG

The first shot hit on the mid right of the board, maybe a kill, but Joshua wanted better, he fired more shots into the target.

BANG
BANG
BANG
BANG
BANG
BANG
BANG
PING

The empty clip ejected out the top of the rifle. Joshua looked at the target and examined the shots. Three shots landed on the mid rib cage, two in the high chest, one scuffed the neck, the other two landed in the gut. Not too bad he thought. Joshua loaded another clip into the top of the rifle. Joshua once again aimed and repeated.

BANG
BANG
BANG
BANG
BANG
BANG
BANG
BANG
PING

Joshua checked the other shots. Three in the chest, three in the gut, one in the face, on off target. Joshua knew he needed to work a bit, but something else had caught his attention. Joshua looked at the men in a very bad situation. Luckily the nearby sergeant broke it up. Joshua walked up to the area. "Good morning," Joshua saluted his superiors, "mind telling me what that was all about?" Joshua paused for a moment. "Oh, excuse me for not introducing myself, I'm Corporal Kennedy. I'm fresh blood for Echo company." Joshua thrusted his hand forward to shake hands.

OOC: Sorry if it's short, gotta go.

[Cpl. Robert Anderson]

Robert was walking toward the Mess Hall that was about two-hundred yards from the shooting range. Thinking about what he had just done. He knew he shouldn't have tried to pick a fight with the Privates but, he felt..an urge. The feeling, the need to fight. He had already been in a traumatic fight once but, he found out that he had enjoyed the killing. He knew this was wrong but, it felt good to kill. He felt very odd now. He lost his appetite and became slightly dizzy. He walked to the nearest tree and sat down with his back against it and his rifle leaning on the tree. Robert took off his helmet and ran his fingers through his hair. Then, something caught his eye, two pictures in his helmet. One of him when he was about seventeen with his parents and the other of his good friend and person that he loved most. She had been his friend since the first grade. Robert took both of the pictures out of his helmet and took them into his hands. Before he knew it a tear rolled down his cheek and onto one of the pictures. He sat there for maybe ten seconds then put the pictures back into his helmet and slid it over his head. The shadow of the helmet kept a shadow over his eyes so noone could see that he had shed a few tears. Robert stood up and picked up his rifle. He kept heading for the Mess Hall. He wasn't hungry anymore. All he wanted to do was be alone so he could try and sort his thoughts.

The Mess Hall was filled with life. Mostly just tired men with no real reason to be in France like himself. Robert walked into line and picked up a tray from the line. He walked a few steps to get in line behind the man in front of him. He could see what the food-of-the-day was. It was the same as everyday. Lots of random cut up vegetables thrown into a beef type of broth all simmered 'till it was edible. Along with that was a piece of French Bread and some MRE desserts. Robert walked through and picked up one of everything then sat at a table by himself. He blocked out all sounds and just thought. Thought of something, something terrible. He was back in Japan. He had just given the order to stay put and keep firing when he saw a Japanese soldier rush him with his bayonet. Then, just like that, he was on his back with the bayonet thrusting towards him. He pulled out his knife and jammed it into the soldiers neck. But instead of this time yelling at the soldier, he pulled the man closer, revealing the man's face. It was his old friend from school. At this horror Robert snapped out of the flashback and stood up with so much force that his chair flew back behind him and hit the table behind him. He stood there for a few seconds then started running out the door. He pushed past a Private and a Sergeant neither of which he cared to talk to. He just kept running until he was far enough away to see that he was completely alone. He fell to his knees and then to his backside. He just sat there staring off into oblivion. Thinking...

[Joshua Kennedy]

OOC: Has this thread died?

[Cpl. Robert Anderson]

OOC: Not completely. Just keep going Josh. The others are either out of town or haven't wanted to post. So try and keep it alive.

[SGT. Brian Baker]

Fuck up rule number one, never embarrass someone who is of lower rank for anything. Yes, what the Corporal did was disgraceful and made the Sergeant look like a complete idiot, Baker felt that he was too hard on the Corporal. His lashing out kind of reminded him of what his older brother used to do when he was still alive. Back in the day, Baker gave his parents a hard time when it came to doing chores. When his parents couldn't handle him, Paul would get in his face and straighten him out.

Killin Krauts and swamp rats rang through the young Sergeant's ears. This Corporal could pose as a problem not only for Baker, but the other soldiers of the 3 ID. He would address it later to whom it may concern, all Baker wanted to do was fire his gun at the range. That would have to wait though, because someone adressed Baker, someone who seemed stern in his voice and was probably a higher ranking officer than he was. Baker turned around to see a Staff Sergeant behind him, addressing the young Sergeant and saluting him. Baker quickly stood at attention and saluted the Staff Sergeant. When the Staff Sergeant complemented Baker on de-escalating the situation, Baker went back to standing at attention. "Thank you, sir. Although, I do feel I could have done it a bit better." Baker noted, referring to embarrassing himself and the other soldiers with bystanders watching. "I did not get the Corporal's name, sir, but I am sure if we ask around, I can find out. He shouldn't be a problem, with all do respect sir."

OOC: Sorry for the long wait and short post, couldn't really think of anything to write.

[Mac Bargett]

"I did not get the Corporal's name, sir, but I am sure if we ask around, I can find out. He shouldn't be a problem, with all do respect sir."

“I suppose you’re right, sergeant. War makes everyone a little crazy. And you can forget that sir stuff, I’m only one chevron above you, sarge. Now that the situation has been disfused I guess now we can both get back to what I think we both came here to do.”

Mac held up M1 he had been cradling and took a few steps to get into position along the firing range. In one swift motion he disengaged the safety and brought it up to his shoulder. Slowly he directed the front sight into the center of the rear, and then aimed both at the 25 yard target. Bang! Bang! Mac fired the semi auto rifle quickly, and once he saw the two splinter marks emerge on the wooden board. One was dead center, the other was a bit off, a few inches higher. That was the second sight, accidentally a headshot because of the first shot’s recoil. The Staff Sergeant then moved his attention to the next target, at 50 yards. Bang! Bang! Again Mac fired double shots, but this time, twin dust bursts around the distance target caught his eye and he fired again. Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Not use to firing a gun that wasn’t fully automatic, Bargett had a second delay after each shot as he emptied the clip.

Ping! The spent clip ejected itself from Mac’s borrowed rifle and it made him frown. Out of six shots, only one pierced the target, hitting it just in it’s margin. The Staff Sergeant must have lost the muscle memory of firing a rifle. It had been a long time since he had picked up a gun that wasn’t his reliable Thompson, and everything about the Garand felt foreign.

“Looks like I came over at the right time.” Mac turned to the smiling face of Pvt. Charles Fox, his arms full with Mac’s Thompson. Staff Sergeant Bargett nodded and traded guns with the private, quickly checking the safety and selective fire before emptying the clip into the target, tearing it to shreds.

“Now, that gets the job done!” Mac called out to no one in particular, ”But, now it’s gonna have to get cleaned again…”