Stuck in the Forest... [Ben]

[Cpl. Seth Seacoal]

Seth plodded through the green French forest, mud from the small overgrown path his guard duty was set on. Seth’s bright blue eyes darted around the shrubs and trees, looking for any sign of the ugly gray uniform that German soldiers wore upon their filthy bodies. The Corporal’s Grease Gun was clasped within his rough, calloused hands, the barrel pointed at the ground. The forest canopy shaded Seth from the harsh European sun, only a few small beams of light cut through, warming the thin steel of his helmet.

Corporal Seacoal had been stationed around the small stretch of Allied controlled forest for about a full week, him and his squad working four hours a day patrolling the trees, and it had proved extremely boring. His feet ached after the patrols, and Seth and Pvt. Derrick Wells, his bunkmate, were asleep the minute their dirty heads touched the uncomfortable pillow. The Corporal was about to meet up with Private Edgar Plumb, a stupid, stubborn lawyer drafted from the Bronx. Their routes met at a small stream, which they forded, walked back to the base, and were done for the day.

“Hey Corporal!” Pvt. Plumb yelled from about ten yards away, his high, annoying voice ringing in Seth’s ears. “Hello Private…” Seth muttered under his breath, wishing he could walk back with a less irritating man. They splashed through the tiny river, the swift water encircling their boots. As they got to the other side, they broke through the trees and entered the 3ID base, heading for the mess hall.

Seth got a coffee, his small tin steaming with the hot stuff. Edgar just ate a thin slice of bread, chewing loudly on the tough crust. Seth sipped on the steaming coffee, hoping someone other than Pvt. Plumb would come to talk.

[Ben Shirley]

Ben trotted the forest area with his new Lee Enfield Sniper rifle laid down on his shoulder, nice brown polish and newly made with a scope outlined with black plastic, with a glass like telescope with cross hairs in the middle for more accuracy.

"So boring, I will get my chance in battle", thought Ben as he was doing his casual walk, his earrings glistening in the barely shown sun light that was being blocked by the green and moist trees that stand high and tall. The humidity was high, as the heat and moist leaves were becoming as if the whole walk was a illusion.

"Damn, if I ever get that sniper spot, I got to learn how to master this nature stuff," thought Ben as he kept on walking, looking left and right and wiping off the sweat from his brow with his brown thumb and a simple flick motion.

Ben kept on his own business, licking his lips in a circular motion to take of the annoyance of having dry lips. Ben looked off in to the distance and looked at a few soldiers sitting down.

"Hey! Who is that?!" shouted Ben as he put a hand over his eyes to block the sun, so he could see better.

[Cpl. Seth Seacoal]

As some piping hot coffee slid down Corporal Seacoal’s throat, a voice yelled from across the stream. "Hey! Who is that?!" It said in a demanding tone, and Seth jumped to his feet and raised the barrel of his Grease gun. Private Plumb also jumped up, but fumbled and tripped over a root. His M1 Garand rifle clattered on the forest floor, a twig getting in the trigger guard and pulling it. The accidental pulling of the trigger sent a bullet zooming out of the barrel, splashing into the water of the gentle stream.

Seth was infuriated. He picked Private Plumb off the ground by his collar and smashed his back against his tree. Plumb whimpered and mumbled as Seth spouted out a stream of vile insults and warnings. “Goddammit Plumb, you could have killed the soldier! What if the barrel had been pointing at you!? Or me!? How fucking dare you be so fucking careless!” Seth screamed at Plumb, before finally releasing him. Private Plumb’s bottom hit the forest floor hard, and he crawled over to his M1 Garand, still lying in the dirt.

“Come on Private” Seth mumbled, still clearly mad. He trotted across the river, his mud spattered boots and leggings getting wet from the fast flowing water. Private Plumb splashed awkwardly behind the Corporal, yelping at a small crayfish crawling out from one of the rocks near his boot. Corporal Seacoal just shook his head and walked onto the bank of the river, seeing the man who called out clearly for the first time. He was young, dressed in an American uniform clutching a British Lee Enfield rifle, it’s polished scope gleaming in the sunlight. He was African-American, which Seth thought was strange. The military was somewhat prejudice, and usually had special units set up for soldiers with darker skin, but this one was an exception because the only unit present in this forest was the 3ID. Earrings shined under his helmet, even more strange than his skin tone.

“Hello, uhm, sir..” Seth mumbled, unsure of the man’s rank.

[Ben Shirley]

Ben stood there, waiting and watching the little show that the other Corporal was giving as he started thrashing the private around the place all the while in a fit of rage.

"Are these guys serious? My grandma has more discipline than these pitiful fools," thought Ben as he just stood there with his trusty Lee Enfield sniper rifle that laid on his right shoulder, still glistening as with the new fine polish.

"You guys are a joke, Whats your name short stuff?" asked Ben as he looked at the non colored soldier, he presumed he was of Corporal rank, but Ben was not used to the American ranks, only have seen the British insignias and such.

Ben licked his brown and dry lips in a circular motion and looking in to the horizon. The trees in the forest were nice and tall, around 50 feet high. They were green and lush with beautiful birds perched on top of them, flying around and chirping their high pitched chirps. A bird that was black, with a streak of white on her wings came flying down and gently landed on the middle part of Ben's index finger. Ben stayed there, admiring the bird as he waited for the dumbfounded soldier to answer his question. Ben wasn't so interested in the guy anymore, since Ben caught the impression that he would just make him look like a fool.

[Cpl. Seth Seacoal]

"You guys are a joke, Whats your name short stuff?"

The African-American soldier stood on the bank of the river, the green United States Army uniform he wore helping him blend into the leafy trees behind him. Seth's lip quivered slightly, his green eyes looking the man up and down. He saw two chevrons on his sleeve, indicating he was a Corporal, the same rank as Seacoal. That meant no being Mr. Nice Guy.

Seth was not the tallest man, but he was stockily built with wide shoulders and a face that looked as if it had been smashed in over and over again from various fights at home. The shadow of stubble coated his chin and cheeks, making him look somewhat imposing under the green helmet he wore. His collar hid Seacoal's stubby bull neck, which attached his head to his thick, muscular body. Seth looked like the complete opposite of his now-deceased brother Elton, who's wavy blonde hair and baby-face made him look like the picture-perfect young man. But Elton was gone now, dead because of those bastard Nazis in the desert.

Seth leaned up close to the Corporal, so close that he could smell his aftershave.

"Hmm, shortstuff you say? I'm a joke? Let me ask you something, Corporal. Have you ever lost a friend? How about a family member? Maybe a...brother? If you did, did he suffer? Was he shot? Left in the burning sand, shot again? Finally, shot one more time, spattering his brains across Africa, putting him out of his misery? Have you gone through United States Marine Corps boot camp? How about trudged through the stinking, festering mud pits of random Pacific islands Uncle Sam asks you to take back? Have you, Corporal? Huh?"

Seth could feel a fight brewing, but he would not be held responsible for starting it. It was about time for a nice brawl.

[Ben Shirley]

"Hmm, shortstuff you say? I'm a joke? Let me ask you something, Corporal. Have you ever lost a friend? How about a family member? Maybe a...brother? If you did, did he suffer? Was he shot? Left in the burning sand, shot again? Finally, shot one more time, spattering his brains across Africa, putting him out of his misery? Have you gone through United States Marine Corps boot camp? How about trudged through the stinking, festering mud pits of random Pacific islands Uncle Sam asks you to take back? Have you, Corporal? Huh?"

Ben wasn't surprised by these Corporals 'wise' words as he tried to give him a comeback. Ben was about to diss him as if there was no tomorrow, but he obviously knew a demotion would be possible for him. Ben closed his eyes before letting out a deep sigh and then reopened them, ready to give this Corporal his mind.

"Guess what my little friend. I have lost a friend, I have lost a family member, and hell yes, I have also lost a Brother. I have lost my mother due to the German scum. I have lost a dear friend, TWO actually. How does that sound? One was shot and stabbed to death while the other one was taken away from us. I also have lost a brother, A brother from another mother. His name was Jacob Swizz. I also lost Mack Swizz Smith. Do you like that? So I wouldn't be talking shit as if the world revolves around your ass. Have you ever been insulted just because of having a different color? No I don't think so. Have you ever lived on the streets just because orphanages wouldn't take you? No, I don't think so either. So good luck with coming up with a comeback. All of you whites are all of the same, got no respect and think you are all one of the bests. Learn to NOT be selfish and learn that people who are different from you, got feelings too," said Ben as he let it all out. He wasn't about to let this Corporal talk to him like that and Ben thought it was time to show the Division that he wasn't no pushover. He fended for himself and he spoke his mind, ready to fight back with more than words.

Ben then dropped his Johnson from the his shoulder, towards the left side of his body on the floor. Ben walked up towards the Corporal, and looked in him straight in the eyes. He had some spunk and some inspiration, but Ben knew he lacked some respect. But Ben lacked respect also, only to those that think they are better than him in all ways.

[Cpl. Seth Seacoal]

"Guess what my little friend. I have lost a friend, I have lost a family member, and hell yes, I have also lost a Brother. I have lost my mother due to the German scum. I have lost a dear friend, TWO actually. How does that sound? One was shot and stabbed to death while the other one was taken away from us. I also have lost a brother, A brother from another mother. His name was Jacob Swizz. I also lost Mack Swizz Smith. Do you like that? So I wouldn't be talking shit as if the world revolves around your ass. Have you ever been insulted just because of having a different color? No I don't think so. Have you ever lived on the streets just because orphanages wouldn't take you? No, I don't think so either. So good luck with coming up with a comeback. All of you whites are all of the same, got no respect and think you are all one of the bests. Learn to NOT be selfish and learn that people who are different from you, got feelings too,"

Seth's eyes narrowed dangerously, the green irises resembling a string of seaweed between the the narrow slits his eyelids made on his face. His upper lip twitched erratically, an angry tick common when Seth got irritated. His hands curled into fists, the palms sweating uncontrollably. The hairs on the back of his neck bristled as his hands rose to undo the straps fastening his helmet to his head, before tossing the steel protective garment into a small patch of pine needles, making a thump that made a nervous Private Plumb wince. Corporal Seacoal grunted lowly, his arms bowing out to his side in case of a fight.

"God pity the poor fools that died because of the Nazis. But lord help you too, asswipe. Do you really think I want to listen to your sob story about some Goddamned orphanage? Why would you fucking need an orphanage if your mama hasn't damned died because of the fucking Nazis!? I highly doubt you where incompetent enough to take care of yourself before 1939.

You think I should pity you because people are racist? You think just because you where born with a fuckin' different skin color! Well wake up and smell the freakin' roses! Other people have problems too!"

Seth collapsed upon a tree, supporting himself with one hand as he regained his runaway breathing. He blinked his eyes rapidly, trying to hide the fact that tears where coming in quickly. Tears where weakness. He must not show weakness.

"I'm sorry Corporal. I just...I just lost my tongue there..."

[Edward"Butcher"McMillan]

Moderation Post:

The following CP has been issued:

Seacoal - 6CP

Shirley - 4CP

-JT