Goodbye Dolly Gray (OPEN)

[Stephen Colly]

The pub was rather full, it was one of the last nights that the British soldiers would have on home soil, there was said that a Big Push was coming sooner or later.
Stephen, to enjoy himself had gone down, to get his mind off the death of his friend, to the local pub, it was a dark evening and the wind blew around him as he walked down the street in his army uniform.

He opened the pub door and was greeted by a man in a black suit. "Stevie, ya good at singin' aren't ya?" shouted the man, clamping Stephen on the back and pushing him towards the front. "C'on, sing a song...Goodbye Dolly Grey should do that trick!" Stephen was pushed to the front by many crowds, he hadn't even got a drink yet.

"Alright." he said, laughing and clearing his voice.
I have come to say goodbye, Dolly Gray,
It's no use to ask me why, Dolly Gray,
There's a murmur in the air, you can hear it everywhere,
It's the time to do and dare, Dolly Gray - so

Goodbye Dolly I must leave you, though it breaks my heart to go,
Something tells me I am needed at the front to fight the foe,
See - the soldier boys are marching and I can no longer stay,
Hark - I hear the bugle calling, goodbye Dolly Gray.

Can't you hear the sound of feet, Dolly Gray,
Marching through the village street, Dolly Gray,
That's the tramp of soldiers' feet in their uniforms so neat,
So - goodbye until we meet, Dolly Gray. Goodbye Dolly Gray

[⊕ Owen Pearson]

There was an ecstatic mood that was rushing itself around the room, creating joyful moments for the people who were crowding up the tavern, a haven from the dark and windy night outside the pub. The euphoric mood was heightened by the vast amounts of alcohol that was passing over the counter of the bar. Folks, mainly soldiers, sang on the makeshift karaoke stage at one end of the bar, showing of the most dreadful drunken singing voices that passed themselves across the room. Many of the people in the room were soldiers from the nearby fort, enjoying one of their last nights that they would be spending on the safety of British soil. The exhilarated atmosphere left the far corner of the bar untouched, leaving the single soldier sitting at that very table in a disheartened mood.

As Owen sat in the far corner observing the peculiarity that comes with happiness and alcohol, he wrote a letter to the one who waited back at home, giving him a miserable feeling in the pit of his stomach. The chicken-scratch on the parchment that laid in front of him was inscribed with French words that sprawled out across much of the page. A beer sat on a small napkin next to the letter creating many rings of moisture on the serviette, as it was now only half-full of the barley and haps created drink. Next to the parchment was a military issued pen that had been used to write the portion of the epistle that was finished, set down for a short break from the writing.

Just as Owen thought the singing that rang out through the air could not get any worse, it had a great improvement. It looked like a sober soldier had gotten up on the stage and had begun to sing. The well-sung tune that now drifted around the room was the song “Goodbye Dolly Gray”. Although the song was not very well-known to Owen, he was beginning to feel better now that there were much better vocalizations traveling through the air of the bar.

[Stephen Colly]

The band had struck up a cord and the song was being bellowed out from around the pub, people were all singing along, some shouting out random words, some just sat silent. Stephen had started off and had encouraged the band that was in the darkened corner at the left of the stage to start.

Stephen sung the song through once more, with the whole pub, well not the whole pub but the majority of it all wolf whistling and singing along to the rather higher vocals of Stephen until the song ended and a huge applause erupted. Stephen was pulled from the stage and hands were clamped on to his back and a lot more cheering then, a drunken soldier got up on the stage and shouted in a loud voice – ”Let’s all thanks Stephen Colly for singing! Well done Steve, right whos next?” and so the drunken vocals started to fill the air again as Stephen made his way through the crowd to the bar, grabbing a drink from the bar maid and making his way over to a quiet corner where one lone soldier sat, paper in front of him and a pen, obviously writing something.

”May I sit here?” Stephen asked, nodding to the sit opposite the other man, without the man responding, Stephen sat down on the chair and sipped his drink, glancing over at the stage and humming the song that had just started up – Pack Up Your Troubles In Your Old Kit Bag.

[⊕ Owen Pearson]

The song rang through the air another time, not sounding quite as nice this time because of the drunken clamor, from the bar patrons, that threatened to overtake the soothing vocals. A small band was playing in the corner sounding slightly off, likely the frothy beverages that sat next to their sheetmusic. The band had stationed themselves in a very dark corner but had small lights that were there so that they could clearly view the music in the terrible lighting.

After the interrupted encore, the singer got off the stage and was greeted with obvious appreciation from the drunken crowd. The vocalist went over to the bar, with a large smile after the successful performance. An unmistakably drunken man got up on stage and thanked the singer quickly before asking for another karaoke participant.

Owen turned back to the paper that was laden with French writing that was covering most of the paper with a dark ink. He began to write more on the paper, and had just finished another paragraph, when the singer came over to the small booth and asked, “May I sit here?” Without waiting for an answer, the man sat in the seat across from Owen.

Owen said in a joking tone, “Sure, you don’t have to wait for me to say that it’s fine.” With great care, he folded the letter and put it into his coat’s pocket before asking the singer, “So, where’d you learn how to sing? I’m fairly sure it wasn’t in the army.” He took a sip of beer as he waited for the response.

[Stephen Colly]

Stephen sipped his drink and shrugged as the other soldier said in a jokey tone about him not waiting for an answer but Stephen dismissed it as a joke. The young soldier’s eyes went down to the piece of paper that the other man was folding up, he realized that the man was talking to him so his eyes went quickly back up to him.

”Where’d I learn to sing? God…no, definitely not in the army at all.” Stephen said, ruffling his hair up at the back as it had been flatten by his soldier’s cap. ”Back home, we all used to have a sing-song around the fire after a day’s work,” Stephen said brightly but there was something behind his eyes that didn’t meet his words.

”My name is Private Stephen Colly Corporal” Stephen said, he had just realized that he hadn’t introduced himself to the other man, from the way the man spoke he sounded American, had the Americans already been sent over here? It seemed only yesterday that the rumour had been floating around that there would be more reinforcements coming from the West but Stephen hadn’t realized they would be here so quickly and in such numbers. In this camp alone there were over 100 new boys with strange accents walking around the place and saying things that so Englishman didn’t understand.

Stephen sipped his beer and looked around the bar, then back at the soldier, awaiting his response if he gave one in announcing his name.

[⊕ Owen Pearson]

OOC: Sorry this took so long...I wish I had an excuse.

IC?: The singer on the other side of the oak table answered Owen's question, ”Where’d I learn to sing? God…no, definitely not in the army at all.” The Private took a quick break to try to get rid of the inevitable hat hair that the uniform had given him and continued with, ”Back home, we all used to have a sing-song around the fire after a day’s work.” Right near the end of the second portion of the answer, Owen noticed a slight change occur in the Private's eyes as if this was not entirely truthful. Owen opened his mouth, about to bring this up, but decided not to in order to avoid a confrontational appearance to the first encounter with this new person.

”My name is Private Stephen Colly, Corporal”, the other soldier stated, reminding Owen that they hadn't even introduced themselves. After realizing this, Owen quickly followed the regular pattern by saying, "Well, I am Corporal Owen Pearson, and just in case you are wondering, I am not part of that new group that is coming." With an optimistic tone developing in his head, he took a brief pause for thought with another sip of his beer, "I guess I started a trend, now everyone wants to come here. Has anybody told them how much it rains?" For his own enjoyment, he ended with a light tone in order to keep the conversation more positive, as he had been seeing so much sadness around the base lately and was hoping that this new encounter could start on a different note. Owen pondered this for a moment and decided that they needed a whole different key.

The back of Owen's throat was calling for the cool liquid that he held in his hands. He brought the glass to his lips to sooth his throat's wish and took a mouthful of the drink. While setting it down on the table again, he realized the few remaining mouthfuls and began to debate whether he should have another and risk an impending hangover.

[Edward"Butcher"McMillan]

Moderation Post

The following CP has been issued:

Pearson - 5CP

Colly - 5CP

-JT