From America to Paris to 3 ID Barracks...(Anyone)

[SGT. Brian Baker]

Location: Just outside Paris, France, approximately 3 miles.
Time: 1300 Hours
Weather: Sunny, some clouds starting to form up, possible showers. Wind blowing to the east at about 8 mph.


So here he was, Sergeant Brian Baker on his way to the 3 ID barracks for assignment. The barracks were about 6 miles outside Paris, meaning Baker had to walk. He held his hand out, trying to hitchhike a ride to the barracks. Trucks, cars, motorbikes, just whizzed by. One car did stop and as Baker approached it, it just sped off. Baker flipped the car off as it sped down the road. "Fucking bastards, we just liberated their country."

As Baker continued to walk with his heavy gear, two P-41 Mustangs flew over heard as they did acrobatic loops and disappeared into the approaching clouds. Baker took note to the grey looking clouds. It would be a cold day in hell if it rained while he had to walk. The barracks were 3 miles from his current position. He had already walked 3 miles and saw different sites along the way.

Baker witnessed French life, with the farmers harvesting their crops and watching their cattle. Children played in the fields, chasing each other and their dogs running around with sticks. This place reminded him of home, but it wasn't his true home. Home is where your family is, your own bed, clothes, good food, and your friends around you. Now all he has is a bed surrounded by dozens of other soldiers, food that looked like it came out of Hitler's ass, and strangers all around you.

[Nicholas Ealing]

OOC: I thought this would be a good way to enter. If anyone else wants to join (Ben?), then you can say you were also in the truck.

The truck thundered down the rural road leading to the outskirts of the French capital. Four men were sat within and only the driver was unarmed. Paris had fallen to the British-American forces but a matter of days earlier and each man was cautious.

Officially, the Germans had been defeated in France but, unfortunately, it didn't look like the Germans had actually worked this out yet and there were still sparse reports of German acitivity in the area, from seeking shelter to seizing food and money from the country folk. In any case, the lands were often crawling with thieves and petty criminals; Lieutenant Nicholas Ealing didn't trust the civilians one bit. But then, he wasn't sure if he trusted anyone these days.

The 3ID tertiary base near Pariswas tiny; barely one hundred men were stationed there at any one time, most of the men having been drafted to the front lines or otherwise to the larger bases in England and America. But it was good enough for the 3ID and it was good enough for the Lieutenant.

It was a starting point of sorts for many green recruits and newcomers and it was a beacon of safety amongst a sea of destruction. The Germans had ravaged France and even driving through the country brought a lump to his throat as he thought of the horrors the Nazis had unleashed on the world for the best part of the past decade.

But Nicholas rarely voiced such concerns; he was too relaxed. Tliberation of France was over and the German war machine was spiralling into nothingness. Life was good enough in France. Peaceful, tranquil. It was the kind of place Nicholas could see settling down in. As soon as some decent toilets were installed, of course.

Yes, the brunt of the war was over and the officer was thankful for it. But there was still a long way to go yet. Nicholas knew how a cornered enemy could be the deadliest of all and the Germans obviously had no intention of surrendering. Within a few months, Nicholas hoped, the krauts wouldn't have a choice in the matter.

He was the commander of the base in France and had set out on the well-trodden road to meet up with a new entry to the European barracks, a Sergeant by the name of Baker. It was only a few miles walk but Nicholas wanted to make sure the Junior NCO reached the base comfortably. Mosquitoes couldn't get you in a truck, he thought to himself.

"Sir," called Private Meredith, one of the passengers, a cheerful Pennsylvanian. "Someone up ahead. Could be our man,"

Nicholas followed the private's gaze and, sure enough, saw a lone figure in the distance. He didn't look happy.

"Could be," grinned the Lieutenant. "But tell you what, Meredith, if he turns out to be a kraut, I will not be a happy bunny, understand?"

"Crystal clear, sir."

The truck veered off towards the figure.

[Ben Shirley]

OOC: (Does the back of the truck have windows? I am assuming yes with my post)

The scenes of trees and rural life soon passed by every second at almost the same speed as the truck bumped and maybe the usual sudden stop due to the animals crossing the dirt road at a annoying and slow pace. Ben was usually patient, but today he was kind of in a bad mood.

He sat with his Johnson laying against the the wall near the window he was staring through, the little sunshine showing through and going towards the floor. A little circle was there, but it looked so strange to Ben, somehow he felt there was more meaning to the circle. He soon shrugged off the idea, he was not ready to make him look crazy since the way it already is, people think he is already crazy due to his color, Black. He had hoped the Division Commander of the 3ID, Captain Patterson, was not stupid enough to believe that whites were better than blacks.

Although the thought of having Paris under British-American control, Ben felt like he didn't do anything in the past months to make a change. He was obviously suffering some major depression and couldn't really notice it himself. He was just thinking about home, about war, and about that at every turn on the battlefield, death can be staring you in the eyes. The single thought made shivers run down his spine and all over his body. He hoped to not make it noticeable and simply yawned to hide the sudden jerk movement he was about to make.

The skies were filled with allied planes as they did their daily patrol around the area, looking for any kraut advancement that could be a threat. If they ever get a good sight of the enemy, they contact the HQ that is located in Paris and HQ in a little while, has the problem resolved by sending out a worthy force.

A little group of white rabbits were hopping around as the truck continued on its route towards finding the new Sergeant by the name of Baker. Ben and Nicholas knew it was just a short walk, but Nicholas probably wanted the Sergeant a proper arrival. Ben obviously knew the way the other Sergeant would act, but he just embraced himself for the harsh words that might have been ready to be spoken that day.

One of the Privates said something about a figure up ahead and soon Ben turned his attention to the distance. He saw a figure that looked like a American soldier but from there distance, it was hard to tell. The truck veered towards the object and Ben just waited, with his Johnson at hand.

[SGT. Brian Baker]

Various farm houses were on the sides of the road, along with houses, silos, and small buildings with it. They weren't closely packed together like the buildings in Paris. The stench of rot and site of rats was not even on the countryside as well. Baker could get used to this, living in the rural area. Hell, maybe if he survived this war, he'd get a farm, with open land, start his own business, his own family, and live the American Dream. That'd have to wait though.

Another truck had passed by with British soldiers. The truck stopped next to Baker, who looked at them and began approaching them; he had placed his bag down on the ground. He figured they'd be heading towards 3 ID. "You guys heading east?"

The Brits laughed, "Are you daft, boy? That's where the Germans are! We're on leave!" They then did a burnout, the dirt hitting Baker's legs and all over the lower half of his body. Their laughs could be heard as they went further down the road. Baker picked up a rock and threw it at the descending truck, even though it came no where close to hitting them. Picking up his bag, there was another truck coming up. It would be there soon, maybe 3 minutes or so.

Baker was honestly not in the mood right now. He wanted to kill someone. The locals were bastards to him and probably the other soldiers that liberated from oppressed rule. Hell, Charles de Gaulle took all the credit for liberating France. He didn't do shit. The guy ran away from the Nazi's and went to Britain and the United States for help. Both countries helped France, D-Day occurred and soon after, Paris was liberated. Un-freakin believable.

"Oh great, another truck filled with arrogant bastards. I hope they are American." Baker said to himself as he spat on French soil. As he continued walking down the dirt road, he felt a little uneasy. The area was too quiet, the only sound was the approaching truck and some noise coming from the city. Still, where were the locals? The farmers? The wives? The children? Baker looked around, noticing a silo to the far right side and a nearby farm house to his left. Little did he know, a German sniper had been tracking him ever since he got within range of his rifle. The German was hiding in the farm house, his muzzle barely sticking out of a small hole and his scope trailed on the Sergeant.

Baker continued walking, but still felt like he was being watched. He brought up his M1 Garand and loaded it with ammo. Looking at the farm house, he saw a shine flicker out at him. Next thing you know, a shot rang out from the farm house. The sniper fired a clean shot at Baker, but just missed his head. Baker jumped for cover behind a wooden log in a dried out river bank.

"Shit shit shit, I hope that truck is full of Allied soldiers and not Krauts." he said to himself, taking a small peak over the bank. He looked at the farm house, knowing that's where the sniper was. The sniper had scanned the area again, his scope trained on the river bed. He saw the American soldier stick his head out and fired another shot, missing again. The bullet hit the dirt in front of Baker, the dirt flying up into his face. Baker stuck his head back down and wiped off the dirt. "That fucking Kraut..." he said to himself. He had hoped the truck would be here soon and would give them ample warning when they arrived. Hell, he hoped that they had seen him jump into the river bed or something.

[Nicholas Ealing]

"What the hell is he doing?" said the driver, Private Hallett, narrowing his eyes, as Sergeant Baker dived into a dried out riverbank for seemingly no reason whatsoever.

"Maybe he fancied a swim?" suggested Private Meredith with a grin. Nicholas ignored him. Something was going on. He pulled out his worn old binoculars in a single fluid movement and brought them to his tired eyes. Even at such a distance, Nicholas could see a familiar emotion burning in the Sergeant's eyes; pure, unbridled fear.

His eyes were locked on the farmhouse. Something in there was terrifying him and Nicholas doubted that it was just a slightly fear-mongering chicken. Just as he was about to turn away, he saw a shimmer of silver hover in the air for a heartbeat, holding hands with the ever-present sound of a gunshot.

"Everybody out!" he bellowed, signalling for Corporal Shirley and Privates Meredith and Hallett to exit the vehicle. He slammed the thick doors open and stepped out heavily as the privates spilled out after him, puzzlement plain on their faces.

"It looks like we need to save Sergeant Baker's arse, an excersise I'm sure everyone of you will enjoy full-heartedly," said the Lieutenant grimly. "He is under enemy fire from that farmhouse," - at this, he pointed a single scarred finger towards the looming building that seemed to dominate the entire street. "I don't know how many are in there. It could be a lone sniper, could be a whole squad, I don't know. But I do know that we can beat them, d'you understand?"

The men nodded blurrily. They weren't entirely sure what was going on. They were soldiers, fighting was what they did, what they enjoyed doing. But as far as Private Meredith was concerned, battles should only be fought on clearly-defined battlefields. In no way whatsoever should they interrupt social conventions.

"Shirley, take Private Hallett and get down to the riverbank," said Nicholas quickly. "Move as fast as possible, using trees and debris for cover. Leapfrogging formation if possible. Get to Sergeant Baker, give him some fire support. Distract the enemy so that myself and Private Meredith can get to the farmhouse ourselves and stick a bullet in the enemy's gut, understood?"

The Lieutenant didn't wait for an answer. Instead, he signalled for Meredith to follow him and darted off elusively down the street out of sight of the sniper's hawk-like eyes...

[Ben Shirley]

Bullets went off as Ben looked to the front and saw Sergeant Baker jump into a dried up riverbank. Ben had some experience as a sniper, and he saw that muzzle flash from a mile away. He took his Johnson from its laid position against the wall and he went on high alert.

""Shirley, take Private Hallett and get down to the riverbank," said Nicholas quickly. "Move as fast as possible, using trees and debris for cover. Leapfrogging formation if possible. Get to Sergeant Baker, give him some fire support. Distract the enemy so that myself and Private Meredith can get to the farmhouse ourselves and stick a bullet in the enemy's gut, understood?"

"Gotcha sir. Hallet, lets move! I need you to get Sergeant Baker and move him towards the truck or something. If he doesn't want to go to the truck, then stop whatever you are doing and fire with me while I let down the suppressive fire!" said Ben as she jumped out from the back of the truck and ran with Hallet who trailed back a little. Ben ran off into the riverbank on the side of Baker, and then Hallet got in as fast as Ben did.

"Baker, we need to get you inside the truck, once we do we can head you off straight to the base! We will stay behind and give that German all we got!" said Hallet as he tried to command Baker, and pulling his uniform to come.

"OK, Time to let a beat down!" said Ben as he readied the Johnson, and aimed through the iron sights towards the farmhouse windows. He squeezed the trigger, shooting in bursts of 3 to 5 bullets each. He did a kind of spray effect, going across the whole farmhouse and its windows.

"Reloading, Hallet, your turn to let some cover fire for Nicholas to come in and get a bullet in the gut!" shouted Ben as he took about 5 minutes to reload the Johnson, but Hallet was doing what he was told. He fired the M1 Garand as best as he could, getting a few shots inside the window. Once Hallet had to reload also, Ben took over for him and started shooting in more bursts of 3 to 5 shots.

[Edward"Butcher"McMillan]

Baker - 4CP, your first post was to standard, 4 is what I usually issue to a two post thread, the others just had longer posts both times.

Ealing - 6CP

Shirley - 5CP

-JT