The Most Stupid Move Ever Made [Mac/Kitty]

[Niamh Dunlevy]

OOC: If you have no clue what's going on, read Niamh's journal.
Edit: I also changed the RP thread status to "Open". No use in keeping anyone out if they want to RP a flexible situation, right?

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Niamh Mairi Dunlevy had done many stupid things in her life. Among them was riding Drummer drunk, having a heavy drinking contest with some cocky American Privates, and stealing a rugby ball from her male cousins to rile them up. Some of these had been repeated often (such as the third incident), and some had only happened once, but made a lasting impression (the second incident). Very rarely, however, did she put herself in more danger then a travelling Pavee would normally face - there was no need for it. If she wanted to keep her nomadic lifestyle and stay healthy, Niamh had to maintain a good deal of common sense on a regular basis.

But nothing compared to the most idiotic, most spontaneous, most dangerous idea she had come up and followed through with: volunteering for Britian's Auxiliary Territorial Service, or ATS. Niamh blamed the idea on her cousins and two good friends, Nathan Whyte and Stephen Colly - one had many soldiers serving, the other two were soldiers themselves.

The six weeks of training passed by quickly. In that time, she had learned to cook a million things, drive several types of vehicles, how to work the anti-aircraft guns that spat lead into the skies, and more first aid then the Pavee had ever used in her life. Niamh had met a couple of other Pavees in the service, but by no means were they related, save for a single female cousin. Magdalene "Magpie" O'Hannagain had been serving in the ATS since 1940, and had worked on the front lines in Italy, now heading to France to tend to the troops there.

And that was also where Niamh had headed, and was now.

Drummer snorted, his eyes and ears alert, the latter swivelling around in all directions to take in the sounds of the new land. Thankfully, Niamh had been allowed to bring him along; the higher-up members of the ATS said he could be used to tow artillery and vehicles. His presence comforted Niamh considerably - he was the closest thing she had ever had to an older brother figure, save her many male cousins. The cousins, however, were not as docile and quiet as dear Drummer, and could easily annoy and/or tire one out. They'd probably annoy her even more now, since she was in the army and all...but that was only if they found out.

Alongside several other female volunteers (and one horse, a dapple grey Percheron gelding named Winston), Niamh and Drummer stood at the gates of a makeshift Allied base. It was the only point of civilization in the sprawling countryside so far, and truth be told, the Pavee was relieved. Although the sounds had been far-off, the women had heard gunfire and some sort of popping noise, which one of the veteran volunteers said came from "mortars". Whatever those were, Niamh wasn't in a rush to find out; the explosions that had followed those far-off noises were small but frightening.

"ALL RIGHT LADIES! Show's over, out of the truck!" barked a woman, known as Section Leader Sally Fell to the other volunteers. It was her job to escort the small group of women to the base, which was commanded by a division - roughly ten to twenty-thousand men, if Niamh was correct - called...some sort of abbreviation or another. What the abbreviation stood for, Niamh had no idea, and she couldn't be bothered to remember right now. It was all she could do to keep herself from shaking with nervousness.

In the trailer hauled along by the jeep, a horse kicked the wall, the following neigh that of Drummer's. Niamh hurried over to the trailer, her and a few other girls opening it and unloading the horses. Winston came first - he was much calmer then Drummer in the current situation - and then Drummer followed, snorting and looking this way and that. A few words of Shelta were muttered to calm him, and Niamh's thumb and forefinger worked at his mane, making the horse believe that she was grooming that now-trimmed line of black. The stallion calmed slightly, although he still looked nervous.

Within moments, the girls were within the main quarters area, a nearby building hastily set up for them. Niamh and two other volunteers were ordered to take the horses to a nearby makeshift stable, where they would stay until duty called for them. The Pavee woman was happy to oblige, finding more comfortable in foreign situations to be wherever horses were.

But this was the army, and she would get used it. If she didn't, Niamh would be forced to, whether she liked it or not.

[Stephen Colly]

France, back in France once more, it seemed to Stephen that he spent his life in the country of the French. He had been in the army for a year and a few months, it had flown by, some much had happened and it didn’t feel like the war was coming to any end some time soon.

Stephen had been in the hospital back in England, recovering from shell-shock, he had been there for a few weeks but the doctors said that he would be alright they thought and that would he like to be released? Yes, Stephen had said that he would like to and the orderlies and the Sister had given him permission to leave.

He had then gone to a training camp to regain his fitness after weeks in bed, and was now out in France, back to the loud noises of gunfire and swearing troops. It wasn’t the troops or the gunfire that made him hate war – well, that wasn’t strictly true, the gunfire made him jump a bit…it was the look on the faces of the civilians as they tried to go around their daily work, also the animals that had no idea what was going on…and the women volunteers who didn’t have a hope in hell of surviving the men that would use them as objects. Stephen didn’t do that, he wasn’t like that to women, he was kind and sensible and would help them, but he wouldn’t go and have sex with them…no way.

The dirt track led up to a makeshift Allied camp, the soft, familiar noise of guns and mortars could be heard in the distance. The sun was going towards the earth, but it wouldn’t set for a good five hours. The truck in which he, and a few other men were in, was open top so Stephen rested his hand on the bar and watched the countryside flash past.

The gates opened and the truck entered, coming to a stop near the officer’s barracks. ”Right you lot, off you get.” the driver jerked his thumb to the door and Stephen got out slowly, dropping lightly on to the ground and looked around. Two horses’ backs were disappearing with their grooms into the stables, they must have disembarked and Stephen looked around to see a small group of women, getting barked at by their leader.
”Oi, oi Stevey-boy.” John Allington, one of Stephen’s friends from training camp sidled up to him, ”CO says we have the rest of the day to hang around here, we should be going out to patrol the nearby town tomorrow afternoon, staying in that town until Thursday, that’s our instructions at the moment, you seen those girls over there? They look a bit lost, shouldn’t we go and help them?”
”Suppose.” Stephen shrugged his shoulders and headed over to the volunteers, his boots clipped the ground as he walked.

They reached the little group and the women who had been barking orders, looked up in surprise. ”What are you two doing?” she had stopped her barking and turned to the two men, Allington was surveying the women, Stephen was staring at the leader, she was a middle-aged lady by the looks of things.

Stephen began to open his mouth and to speak when Allington nudged him in the ribs to be quiet, ”Looking around miss, that’s what we are doing, got nothing else to do…you need help escorting these ladies anywhere?” he grinned at one of them who blushed scarlet and hid her face in her hands.

[Niamh Dunlevy]

Drummer's head was shaking this way and that, irritated by all the new, loud noises that were buzzing in his ears. Niamh's nervousness also wasn't helping, the horse thinking his "herd-mate" had seen something dangerous. His tail was swishing side to side, and if he got angrier, it could hit someone hard enough that the hairs would be like whips. Once again, Niamh resorted to fingering his mane, stroking his mighty neck and muttering Shelta to him. The stallion calmed slightly, although he snorted and cried for Niamh when she put him in his stall. He was still whinnying when Niamh walked out with the other girl, who was glancing over her shoulder.

"Ye sure yer loon will be braw in thaur?" the woman asked Niamh, her voice betraying her Scottish heritage. Niamh looked up at her and forced a smile, nodding assuredly; Drummer would eventually calm down. It was his rider that had to get a grip, and stop feeling like the world would explode at any minute. The Scotswoman by her was a newcomer, but she was so sure of herself - how come Niamh didn't feel the same way?

The sound of men's voices caught Niamh and the Scotswoman's attention. A soldier was talking - or rather, flirting - with the other ladies. Miss Fell looked slightly annoyed, and Niamh slightly flinched when her leader snapped, "All right, all right! Move along, boys - my girls aren't playthings. Unless you want slop for dinner, you best let us get to the kitchens and feed all you lads."

A woman beside Miss Fell happened to look over towards the stables, and immediately noticed the two returning volunteers. She gently tapped the Section Leader on the shoulder and said, "Sally, t' 'orses are away." Miss Fell turned and looked herself, a satisfied grin settling on her face when she saw that the job that been done rather quickly.

"Ah, good show, Dunlevy, Lyne!" the Section Leader cried. "Lovely work ladies, lovely. Lyne, you go and help Sangster unload the potatoes; Dunlevy, I want you over by that supply wagon over there, and sorting the ammunition from the medical supplies. Remember, girls, don't let these men distract you, they just want to see if they can sneak a snogging."

Niamh's face turned bright red, and Lyne's to a lesser extent. Some of the girls giggled, looking disbelievingly at the boys in front of them. The Pavee and her companion quickly hurried off to do their tasks, but not before Niamh caught the edge of the face of the second soldier, the one that hadn't been flirting.

She slightly slowed in her step, and looked over her shoulder. Sthephen? Niamh thought with a hint of surprise. The Pavee hadn't been expecting him there, of all people. Last time she had seen him, he had been a blubbering mess, completely shell-shocked.

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OOC: To my knowledge, it's me, Kitty, Mac, and Nikita in this thread. Anyone mentioned here, PM me if you can't join, or if you'd like to back out. Posting order will be determined by order of who enters.

[Stephen Colly]

Stephen could hear the sounds coming from the stables and he silently wished that he could go over there, maybe he would once he had got Allington off his back, the man, be it that he was very kind, did not realize when someone had had enough of him and would hang around for ages if someone didn’t tell him to bugger off.

Two women came from the stables but Stephen didn’t take any notice of them as Miss Fell started telling the two soldiers to move along. ”Oh come on Miss Fell!” Allington had heard one of the girls call her by the name, Allington put a whinge into his voice and Stephen poked him hard in the ribs. ”We never said that they were play things did we?” Allington turned to Stephen who shrugged and looked around at the faces.

He suddenly glanced up as he heard the surname of someone who sounded very familiar. Allington was still protesting but Stephen wasn’t listening to the man’s pathetic excuses for staying there. ”Come on.” Stephen muttered as he saw the faces of the girls turning red and some giggling. ”Stop making a fool of yourself you idiot.” he muttered trying to drag the reluctant Private away with him.

He could feel eyes on him and he turned, his eyes locked on to the miss-matched eyes of Niamh Dunlevy! What the bleeding hell was she doing here out in France? He stared at her and she seemed to stare back, she had volunteered to go into this mess? She was a women, she shouldn’t be here…she shouldn’t! What had gotten into her?

Allington was eyeing the girls as they walked off to do their jobs. ”I’m definitely going to go around to the kitchens…” he muttered at Stephen, ”See ya later mate!” he waved at his friend as he set off in hot pursuit of the girls…idiot, he would be chucked out as soon as he got there but that was up to him.

Stephen now turned his attention to the direction that Niamh had wondered off to, he scanned the barracks until he saw her by the supply wagon, he set off, saluting a couple of times at passing officers, finally he reached the wagon, a horse was standing at the head, looking rather tired. Stephen went towards it and gave it a small pat and stroked it before turning his attention to Niamh.

”What are you doing here Niamh?” he asked, not bothering to say hello, he wanted to know why she had come out here to…get herself killed…

[Mac Bargett]

5 days, 14 hours, and 45 minutes, that was how long Sgt. Mac Bargett’s squad had been on the line, unless his wrist watch had failed him. Almost a week of constant shooting, shelling, and killing, .though to Mac and the rest of the men it felt like a month. But now finally, the surviving members of the platoon have been sent back to the rear echelon. The only thing to kill now is time, and Mac’s boys are ready to slaughter it.

“Alright men,” Mac was the first man to jump out of the back of the truck, and he laid down the ground rules as he helped the rest down, “We’re gonna be here for at least 2 days, and until then you can do what ever you like, you can take a shower, you can some sleep, some food, some entertainment.” Mac noticed his men’s attention move to a group of ladies walking a few yards away, “Some of that… I don’t really care, as long as I don’t see any of your dirty mugs in the jailhouse. Personally I’m going to the chapel. I have a feeling the only reason we’re still all alive is that I keep on the Big Man’s good side. Certainly not because of your fighting ability. Now come on, scat, the weekend’s yours.”

As the men dispersed to their various activities, Mac pulled his Thompson off the back of truck and released the magazine. Quickly, he pulled back the bolt and the bullet still in the chamber flew out. Mac caught it in midair and stuck it into the top of the magazine, right where it was when he loaded the gun the week before. He popped the mag back into it’s groove and slung the Thompson on his shoulder before following his men towards the temporary buildings of the camp.

As he walked he balanced the sub-machine gun between his hands. Unlike the M1 rifles his men had discarded in the back of the truck, Mac thought of this Thompson as his. He knew every scratch and dent over every inch of this beautifully manufactured machine of destruction, and he didn’t want someone else to collect and manhandle it before giving it back to him when they move back out for the front. Even though he had yet to fire it in anger, it was a part of him, he had field stripped and cleaned it whenever he could, and he knew it’s strengths and weaknesses from countless hours on the training field. When he did finally have to take a life, he’d want to do it with this Thompson and only this Thompson.

A familiar face in the crowd ahead of him bring Mac out of his gun induced trance. Walking closer to the group around a horse, he waited until he was directly beside the corporal before announcing his presence, “Hello Colly. I haven‘t seen you since I got transferred back to my own army.”

[Niamh Dunlevy]

OOC: Nikita can't join the roleplay right now - he PMed me about it. Thus, it is only Mac and Kitty now. Post whenever you can after me, guys. I also think I got my "sirs" addressed to the wrong rank, but I'll just blame it on Newbie Niamh.

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As soon as Stephen's eyes had fallen upon her, Niamh knew she was in trouble. She had quickened her pace over to the supply wagon, where an exhausted draft horse was quietly standing in a light doze. Niamh had heard about a third horse at the base - it was a magnificent, dark bay and white Shire male, who went by the name of Rakey-Jake. The horse at the wagon's front fit the description perfectly, save for the droopy look that he now had about him. Niamh tip-toed by him, just to make sure she didn't wake the poor gelding up, and then went around to the back of the cart.

"Hello, Staff Sergeant sir!" Niamh said in her best tone of seriousness, snapping a salute. The members of the ATS, just like the other soldiers, were required to salute whoever was superior in rank to them. Niamh was the equivalent of a Private, so she saluted just about everybody. "Volunteer Niamh Mairi Dunlevy, here to sort medical and ammunition supplies, sir!"

"At ease, Volunteer," said the Sergeant, whose name tag read "Pickett". "There's not much here, but still enough. Any magazines belong to machine and submachine guns go in one pile, bolt-action rifles in another. Surgical tools are to be left on the truck, but the medicines are all yours. Make sure to sort the painkillers from the antibiotics - that way, the nurses don't get confused as to which pile they should take. Not all of this is going to this base."

"Yes sir!" said Niamh in return, immediately moving forward to follow orders. Sergeant Pickett nodded, then vaulted off the side of the wagon in a swift, single motion. After hitting the ground, he turned his head to look at Niamh one more time.

"And make sure Rakey-Jake gets put back in the stable!" said Sergeant Pickett. "He's been hauling things back and forth for five days straight! That grey one, Winston - hook him up to the wagon when you're done."

"Yes sir, Sergeant sir!" Niamh called out, her hands grasping a case of penicillin. She put it on the ground to her right, along with a case of bottles of morphine that she quickly switched to the left, and then moved a case of other antibiotics out of the way. So focused on the task was she, she didn't even notice Stephen coming up behind her.

"What are you doing here Niamh?"

"AH!" cried Niamh in surprise, whirling around and nearly dropping another case of penicillin. Luckily, she caught it in time, but it still strained her arms to do so. She winced, straightening herself, then moved the case to the antibiotics pile. Hands on her hips, she turned around, hands on her hips as her eyes hardened fiercely.

"Don'th use t'at thone on me, Sthephen Colly!" the Pavee snapped, well aware that she probably sounded like his mother. "T'is war is my war, thoo! Justh 'cause I'm a girl doesn'th mean I can'th do somet'ing! I - "

Niamh was cut off by the arrival of another soldier, an American by the sounds of it. She could not place his accent, but to her, he sounded somewhat...southern? Apparently, he knew Stephen, having not seen the British Private before "being transferred back to his own army". What did that mean?

From the stripes on his arms, Niamh could tell the man was a Sergeant, and an American one. One of the tricks the ATS had taught her was to compare the stripes on an American to the stripes on a Brit - the Brits just had theirs pointing downwards. It didn't work for all ranks, but it sure did help when one was new and could easily forget ranks.

"Hello, Sergeant sir," Niamh said in a friendly tone, but not forgetting to salute. "Is there something you need, Sergeant?"

[Stephen Colly]

Stephen was expecting an explanation as to why Niamh was out in France, alright, she seemed the one to do something dangerous like she was doing now…but Stephen had only imagined that men and women he didn’t know would be in the army…obviously not it seemed.

Her hands were on her hips and he sensed that she was suddenly annoyed, she started to shout at him a bit and Stephen was about to argue back when he heard a voice behind him.

Stephen jumped as he looked around and saw Mac Bargett, a small smile crept over his face as he recognised a familiar face, ”Sergeant.” he saluted smartly and smiled, ”How are you?” he asked, wanting to start a conversation, the last time he had see Mac was at another Allied camp with a little German girl who Stephen had found by accident it seemed.

He glanced over at Niamh and then back at Mac, ”Just got here Sergeant, back in jolly old France.” he gave a dry laugh and shrugged, ”Back with the Americans then?” he rested his left arm on the wagon that was being unloaded by medics and volunteers.

He looked at Niamh again, wanting to speak to her but not knowing what to say, she had sounded suddenly like his mother and Stephen had sudden flashes in his mind of his mother and he stood still, staring into the distance for a few seconds then felt his feet on the ground and blinked, looking around at Niamh and then at Mac who was still standing there, he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck and smiled softly.

[Mac Bargett]

“How are you?”
Mac returned Colly’s and the woman’s salutes and took a second to think about the best way to answer that question with a lady present, “Well I’m doing as good as you can be after being on the line for a week. Nothing a hot shower and a soft pillow couldn’t fix though. How are you?”

”Just got here Sergeant, back in jolly old France.” Colly shrugged, ”Back with the Americans then?”

“Yeah, pretty much the same army. Better gun though. Mac gestured to his Thompson, ”Fully automatic, like your BAR. Makes me feel like James Cagney every time I use it.”

Suddenly Mac noticed the feeling that he walked in at the wrong time and realized he had forgotten his manners , “Oh sorry, am I interrupting something? I didn’t mean to butt into whatever you two are doing. I just,” he trailed off

"Is there something you need, Sergeant?"

Mac turned to woman and again tried to collect his thoughts, “Ahhhh yeah. You wouldn’t happen to know where the padre is, miss? I better go and give my prayers before we're sent out again”

Mac was all ready to leave the two to whatever he caught them in the middle of, “lover’s spat perhaps,” he thought it could be, but then he remembered what happened the last time he saw Colly, “Oh and Colly, whatever happened to Bevan’s girl, Aniline, or whatever? I had lost track of everyone since my transfer.”

[Niamh Dunlevy]

The Pavee couldn't help but smile when the Sergeant asked where the chaplain was. "T'e good Fat'er's ath anot'er camp, sir," said Niamh. "He's been asked tho bless a couple o' thanks before t'ey an' t'eir crews go intho baththle. T'ere's a really 'oth area near 'ere t'at t'e Americans are goin' tho look ath; he should be back in a few hours. T'e chapel is already 'ere, t'ough - justh go into t'e barracks, thake t'e firsth lefth, an' ith's t'e fourt' room down. 'Ere - "

Niamh reached a hand into her left bottom pocket, and produced a small, hastily-drawn map. She immediately handed it to the Sergeant.

"T'is is a rough blueprinth o' t'e base. Ye can borrow ith, I can always geth anot'er from Secthion Leader Fell. If ya need anyt'ing sir, t'e girls an' I will be bunkin' in t'e rooms by t'e kithchens. Justh knock on t'e door firsth; Miss Fell reaaaally doesn'th like men hangin' 'round t'e barracks fer no reason. She doesn'th like ith when t'e girls flirth, y'see. An' no, yer noth intherrupthin' any'ting, me an' Sthephen are justh good friends. He saved my horse's life, sir."

Turning around to continue sorting the supplies, Niamh overheard the Sergeant asking about a girl named Aniline or something. Apparently, she was the daughter of someone called "Bevan"; hadn't that been the name of one of the soldiers who had been killed in action? There was a picture of him and his deceased girlfriend amongst the honoured dead at Niamh's first ATS base. According to Section Leader Fell, the girl had been a nurse, and Bevan had been one of the best fighters Britain had ever seen, if not a little suicidal at times.

"If you wanth, sir," said Niamh, turning around, "I could ask one o' t'e nurses. I'm hearin' t'at t'ey've been asked before by t'e local orphanages and such tho thake a look ath some o' t'e sick kids - if you can geth me a name, I can ask t'em where t'e child is. I'll leth you know as soon as I soon as I find outh, sirs."

The Pavee turned to get back to work, but then quickly pivoted on her heel.

"One more t'ing, sir, Privathe Colly - t'e boys are geththin' a special threat today in t'e Mess 'All. Apparenthly, you'll be geththin' somet'ing called 'brownies' senth yer way for desserth ath lunchthime."

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OOC: Threat is pronounced "threet" in this chase. Niamh's accent warped the word.

[Stephen Colly]

Stephen gave a soft smile as Mac talked about his American gun being better than Stephen’s one. ”You think so sir?” he asked, grinning and shaking his head, ”Most likely you are telling the truth, the Americans do seem to have better guns than us Brits.”

The Sergeant seemed to stop and then begin to apologise, asking if he was interrupting something and before Stephen could open his own mouth to say “no, you aren’t”, Niamh spoke before him and he bit his lip, feeling rather awkward. ”Long story.” he muttered to Mac and shrugged.

Stephen was about to turn away back to Niamh as Mac looked like he was about to leave when the Segeant stopped short and addressed him again. ”I dunno sir, last time I saw her was when you and I took her shopping, I was shipped off to Italy after that.” a thought suddenly hit him, he hadn’t thought about the little girl Addie, his mind had been full of other things since that he hadn’t given it a thought.

”Her name is Adelhied, Niamh, or should I say Adelhied Bevan?” he paused to think and then shrugged once more, ”German name…don’t speak German very well…all I know if hello and goodbye and good morning cause they all sound Englishly.” he gave a soft laugh.

His eyes widened at the thought of brownies, ”Really Niamh? Ah, that sounds great, I’ll have to tell Allington.” another thought struck him, where the hell was his mate? He glanced over towards the kitchens and saw the said Private staring through a window, he would be chucked out sooner or later.

[Mac Bargett]

Although Mac couldn’t understand much of what the woman had said, ‘T'e good Fat'er's ath anot'er camp, sir’ was clear enough. If the Padre wasn’t in, Mac could still spend some alone time with the Lord in the chapel. Although seeing Colly brought up memories of Addie. War was not a place for children, and Mac heard of what the Nazis did to them, even their own, mindless robots trying to kill themselves for the Fuehrer. If the nurses could find her, her safety would be more important then Mac’s redemption . And if, God willing, her orphanage was near this base, he could probably get to her before he had to go back on the line and make sure nothing happened to her.

”Her name is Adelhied,Niamh, or should I say Adelhied Bevan?”
“Ah that’s right, my mistake, Adelhied. German names are not my strength either. But thanks, I‘ll really appreciate it, and thanks for the map.” Mac winked at Colly and hoped he understood that his knowledge of German was not something he like everyone to know.

"One more t'ing, sir, Privathe Colly - t'e boys are geththin' a special threat today in t'e Mess 'All. Apparenthly, you'll be geththin' somet'ing called 'brownies' senth yer way for desserth ath lunchthime."

Brownies? Another word Mac could understand. The last time he ever had a brownie was his 18th birthday, his mother's Peanut butter cup and Hershey chocolate brownies. And that had been before all of this ever started, now after months of only eating cold SPAM and heated SPAM with cold vegetables, even the driest, chalkest brownies would be like heaven.

“Brownies at lunchtime you say?”[b/] Mac looked at his watch, then stuck it next to his ear. No tick.
“I think my watch is busted, anyone have the time?”

[Niamh Dunlevy]

"You're welcome, Sergeanth sir," Niamh replied, her face portraying a slight hint of confusion at the wink. What had that been for? Had he just been trying to be amusing? Ah well, it was no matter to Niamh. Her offer had been accepted, and surely Section Leader Fell would be willing to lend an ear for a moment. Despite the woman's gruff demeanour, Niamh was sure she had heard somewhere that Miss Fell had a soft spot for lost children.

The two soldiers had visibly perked up at the word "brownie". From what Niamh had heard, it was some sort of chocolate treat from America, and that it was like a miniature cake. The Pavee would probably get herself a brownie of her own later, but for now, they all went to the soldiers. Many of them were at the base on a quick weekend leave, so the volunteers thought it would be a nice treat for boys who had just standard army rations. Colly mentioned someone called "Allington" probably liking a brownie, and the Sergeant asked the time; Niamh looked at Allington first, then responded to the man's question.

"Ith's then, sir; then pasth then, acthually," said Niamh. Her eyes narrowing at Allington, she put two fingers in her mouth, and blew three short, sharp whistles. A long, trailing one was put at the end, and a nearby volunteer looked in Niamh's direction, seeing the Pavee point towards Allington. The other woman nodded, and replied with three whistles lower in key, the third trailing off. Another woman quickly appeared at the window Allington was staring into.

"Wi've neya tahhm for games!" the woman snapped in a Yorkshire accent, brandishing a rolling pin. "Shu off, theur 'ungry lahl clart noggin!!"

The rolling pin would then be flung at Allington, a sure sign he was to leave. Several more kitchen-found objects followed, including a whisk, a frying pan, and a small hand towel. Niamh laughed at the sight of the poor soldier being pummeled. "HA! T'at'll theach 'im tho sthare!" she cried.

[Stephen Colly]

Stephen saw Mac winked and gave a slight nod, he understood what the man was saying, and Mac didn’t want anyone to really know that he wasn’t as good as German as everyone thought he was. Mac was a nice enough man, Stephen didn’t see anything wrong with him, and some of the Americans could be right pricks. Not all of them, but most where.

The Americans were the ones who had introduced brownies to the British and now to the rest of Europe. Or as soon as the war was over, they would be able to introduce them to the rest of Europe, it was only France that got the lovely brownies and Britain and America of course.
Mac’s watch had stopped; Stephen needed to buy himself a watch. That reminded him. He would go into the local town tomorrow and buy himself a brand new watch.

His last had gotten lost somewhere in the French countryside, it had slipped off his hand and he haven’t noticed until they had set up camp that evening so Stephen had no hope of finding it again. His father had given it to him when he was younger, had told him to always look after it, well Stephen didn’t give a dam that he had lost his watch that his father had given him for Stephen hated his father so it was like loosing his father in an odd sense.

Niamh however was the saviour of the question on time; ten past ten was what she had said. Or just about, wow was it really that early still? I didn’t feel like the morning, it felt like it was lunchtime already, a few more hours and then he would be able to have some food!
Niamh suddenly whistled and then another whistle was heard in the air, Stephen turned to see Allington running for his life towards the group, kitchen pans being thrown after him. Niamh cried out in sudden delight and Stephen frowned at her as Allington came towards them, red in the face with embarrassment.
”I was only looking! Stupid women!” Allington looked slightly annoyed, Stephen smirked a bit, ”They give us food.” he shrugged as if Stephen didn’t really care, Allington looked annoyed, hunched his shoulders and shuffled off, obviously to try and find another way to look at the ladies in the kitchen.

[Mac Bargett]

"Ith's then, sir; then pasth then, acthually,"

“Thank you, I should really get a new one as soon as possible. My father always said that, ‘a man is like a watch. They may need to be looked over every none and then, but as long as the watch knows the time and the man knows what‘s he doing, they don‘t need to be fixed,’” Mac said to one in particular, as he undid the leather strap on the Government Issued watch, and carefully looked it over. The olive drab cloth over the strap was torn and stained, the glass face was chipped, and it’s minute hand laid limp at 6. It made Mac reflect on his father’s odd saying, his watch didn’t know what time it was, and he didn’t know what he was doing here in France, there was always one more outpost or one more hedgerow to fight for.

When the odd speaking woman suddenly whistled, Mac stopped pondering his place in the world, and jerked his head back up as he slipped the broken watch into his pocket. She was pointing at something near the kitchens and then another woman whistled. Mac became confused about what was going but before he could ask, another woman shouted something in another strange English-sounding language and a British private ran out, followed by a barrage of kitchen utensils. The embarrassed soldier tried to explain to Colly, but Stephen just looked amused.

“Allington, I presume?” Mac looked over at the new private then at Colly, What is with privates. acting like children around… brownies. At least you’re not like that, Colly. My men would give a tantrum if they missed an opportunity to get some. I hope they don’t miss it though. They do deserve it.”

[Niamh Dunlevy]

Niamh approved of Stephen's smirk, but surely not of the insult towards Niamh's fellow ATS members. She rolled her eyes at the incoming Private, just as the Sergeant asked if said Private's name was Allington.

"Yep," replied Niamh, "ith appears t'at way, Sergeanth sir, fer bot' name an' brownies. And, by t'e way, Privathe Allingthon...."

The woman walked up to the soldier, and put a finger on his chest. With those mismatched eyes of hers, she glared right into his, Niamh's own pair becoming mere slits.

"If you ever thry and call us girls 'sthupid', so 'elp me, I'll make sure your unith is t'e lasth on t'e listh of who geths t'eir dinner firsth. Bethther yet, I'll have t'e girls give yer boys all o' t'e brownies we puth aside for 'em, an' give 'em tho somebody else. I hear t'e Americans are a nice bunch to t'e ladies; justh look ath t'e good Sergeanth o'er t'ere! He's a real genthleman if I ever saw one in m'life!"

Niamh pointed with one finger towards the nearby American Sergeant, then pivoted on her heel and marched back over to the supply cart. She began to sort the painkillers from the antibiotics again, pulling along the heavy cases and sorting them into the piles the Pavee had made on either side of herself. Section Leader Fell would snap at her if Niamh didn't get any work done; Fell was as bad as any Drill Sergeant the military men had to contend with. Heck, she could be even worse, especially to the aforementioned men if they fooled around with the volunteers under her command.

Suddenly, there was a ringing of the kitchen's bell, catching the attention of many nearby. A Canadian-British woman named Harriet Graye stuck her head out the window, a batter-covered spoon in one hand and a smile on her face.

"'Ey!" the woman barked. "Anyone want to lick the spoons? We've got some eggless batter left over from some stuff if any of you boys want any! Our treat, just for today!"

As one would anticipate, several soldiers stampeded over to the kitchen, pushing and shoving like they were schoolboys running out of school at the day's end.