Corporal! [Hawkins]

[♠ Aaron Mitchell]

There was something about the new base, an air about it the screamed out a certain degree of calm, relaxation. This suited Aaron fine, he hated nothing more than being stuck in a situation where if you so much as breathed at the wrong time you got a bollocking, and if you were to sneeze…. Only God could save you then.

He opened the door of the jeep and stepped out, his hobnail boots clicking on the tarmac of car park. He reached onto the floor next to where he had been and pulled out a large rucksack. He tried not to have more stuff than he could carry in a Bergen, but inevitably, there was some stuff. His Thompson was one of these things, and it didn’t bother him the least to have to carry out. Words from basic training from several years ago still echoed round his head as he picked it up. This is my rifle. There are many like it, but this is my own….. Without me, my rifle is useless, without my rifle, I am useless. This was his rifle, and his lifeline. It hadn’t failed yet, and the careful maintenance he had done to it made him sure in the weapon that it wouldn’t start to fail.

The other thing he had to carry was more of an embuggerence, the new officer’s dress uniform. He had taken one look at it and decided to avoid wearing it at every possible opportunity. He took the hanger sticking out of the plastic and hooked it around his hands. He muttered thanks to the driving before walking away and looking over the many buildings that surrounded him. A look of perplexion came over his face as he tried to work out where to go.

He was on the verge of walking into the closest building and possibly looking like a complete idiot, before he spotted a slightly easier option. ”Corporal!” he called out to a soldier stood nearby. ”Can you show me where to go?” It had to be said, that there was certainly a few advantages of having rank.

[hawkins]

For all Corporal Hawkins knew, the weather was a practical joke sent down by a vengeful god that made it his business to fuck with the minds of the British. The sky was clear and the air sunny; an oxymoron if ever there was one. Conrad was not doing anything of any particular importance as he walked through the compound of his base in southern Scotland. He was simply making his way to the pub from one side of the camp to the other.

No sooner had he made up his mind to get a drink, than he was called back to duty. After walking blatantly by the car park, he heard the instantly recognisable voice of an officer making an order. This time it was a man Conrad had not met. He turned to see a Lieutenant standing next to a car. He was certainly not the most handsome man in the world, but what could one expect.

Conrad walked over and stood at attention, saluting the officer. "Corporal Hawkins, sir!" He said loudly in his upper-class English accent, a rarity in the ranks. He could only hope the officer didn't think he was mocking with the accent. Anyway, he stood at attention, waiting for attention.

[♠ Aaron Mitchell]

The soft Scottish sun warmed Aaron’s skin as the Corporal walked over and announced himself. The Lieutenant returned the salute before eyeing the man up and down. ”Quite an accent, you’ve got their, Corporal. I’m surprised you aren’t in the King’s Own. Anyway, at ease.”

The Corporal in front of him certainly wasn’t the prettiest of soldiers, but he would do for the job. Mitchell had the feeling the accent and panorama ears wouldn’t be an easy thing to live with down in the infantry, but unless he was placed underneath the lieutenant, it didn’t bother him too much. He offered Hawkins a large hand as he began speaking again. ”Second lieutenant Aaron Mitchell. I’ve just arrived and have no idea where to go, would you be kind enough to show me the office, Corporal?”

He probably didn’t look like the smartest junior officer in the world, but he wasn’t all that bothered. He liked to think of himself still as a squaddie, just with a couple of extra benefits. The officers bar was one to start with, and so was the fact if somebody disappointed him he could make them do laps until they puked. The question was, would Hawkins disappoint?

[hawkins]

OOC: Sorry for the slight god-modding. I thought we would see the clerk and then get back outside.

It was really quite typical to say the least. Just at the last second, Conrad was called upon to perform duties. He held no disdain for the matter, but he was frustrated. Covering his inner feeling masterfully, he smiled to the lieutenant, taking his hand. "I am from Sussex, sir, but that is story in itself. If you will just follow me, I'll take you to the administrative offices. I assume you'll want to see Lieutenant Kieling, he is the officer on duty at the moment."

Motioning the direction, Corporal Hawkins walked straight into the building in front of him. He waited for the Lieutenant to follow him into the morass of inhuman corridors that was the administrative building. It was at one time the manor home of someone, but had obviously been built in to create a bureaucratic hotspot. The corporal looked back to the Lieutenant and spoke quietly, "You will find, Lieutenant Mitchell, that this building was designed by the devil to keep himself occupied. If you turn the wrong way, you'll never find your way back in here."

The young corporal stood in the corridor and smiled to the new officer. Not wanting to seem impolite, he continued conversation with the Lieutenant as the two went down the corridor. "Where were you transferred from, Sir? It can't be better than this place." For some reason, Conrad had become overly happy. He hated the feeling, but concealed it as he continued down the corridor.

[♠ Aaron Mitchell]

Mitchell allowed his Thompson on it’s sling to fall down to his side as he re-shouldered his Bergen and held the dress uniform in his left hand. As he followed Hawkins, he noticed a dark cloud had descended upon the base, a shadow of misery and despair. His lips twitched as he looked around at the men on the base, a small, waning stream of people were walking towards the churchyard.

”Who’s died, if you don’t mind me asking?” He said, tentatively, not wanting to open up any wounds that may still be sore around. It wouldn’t be a particularly good first impression on a man he could be leading by bringing him to tears right in front of him.

As they entered the building, Aaron had to squint for a few seconds so his eyes could readjust to the gloomy interior of the grand building. It was the kind of place that, as a child, the Mitchell family could only ever aspire to live in. From the entrance hall, he could see a maze of adjacent passage ways leading off to various parts of the building. He followed Hawkins yet again into the unknown. ”Where did I come from? I’m from the Lincolnshire Regiment, Second Battalion. We were a might merry bunch of guys, but apparently you’re in need of a good Lieutenant here, so I got sent down to try and sort you all out.” He looked down a selection of corridors, any of which could lead him to the administrative office to sign in as Barracks Personnel. He’d have to try and make it a bit easier. ”Now, which way?”

[hawkins]

Just as the men walked into the administration building, the Lieutenant mentioned a funeral that was going on nearby. Conrad didn't know who had died, he had only heard rumours that he had been shot at the firing range. Speaking clearly to the lieutenant behind him, "I'm not sure. I think he was shot at the firing range when he prematurely tried to gather a target." Conrad thought the man was a bloody idiot to say the least, though he didn't say anything for fear of sounding callous.

Finally, the Conrad reached an unmarked door, obviously made to confuse any man that walked in. Corporal Hawkins was smarter than that; he knocked on the door and opened it. A young man sat at the desk. He was known around the camp as Kilroy; an allusion to his common habit of appearing everywhere out of nowhere. He was known as an anal-retentive hard-arse and everyone took the piss out of him while his back was turned.

The blond man looked up from some paper on his small desk and barely smiled as he spoke in a hard, cold tone; the smile was obviously fake in every definition. "Is there something you need, Corporal Hawkins?" The man almost spit venom as he said the corporal's name. He held a personal grudge against the corporal. "Lieutenant Mitchell, here, needs to sign-in with the staff for the barracks, sir." He tried being as polite as possible, but a slight tinge speared through his voice. He wanted this done with as soon as possible.

[♠ Aaron Mitchell]

Aaron followed Hawkins along the corridor, standing straight under his weight to try and leave a good impression. His firm footsteps echoed in the halls, the only conversations small murmurs between men. What a social lot. He carried on, nodding a greeting at one or two people that seemed familiar.

The two men entered a room, and Aaron stood silent as Hawkins spoke. Mitchell handed the Corporal his dress uniform as he stepped forwards towards the desk, saluting and then extending a hand towards the man across the wood. ”Second Lieutenant Mitchell.” His hand wasn’t taken, instead, a pen pushed into it and a clipboards pushed across. It was a standard affair, just basic details that Aaron had filled dozens of times before. He nearly filled in his rank as Warrant Officer Class 1, but corrected himself quickly. Conversation seemed a waste; this Lieutenant Kieling wasn’t the talkative. He had already buried himself in a pile of paperwork. Aaron signed the slip before handing it back. In return, he was given a key and a small map, and a gruff “welcome.” Aaron saluted again, made an about turn, and walked towards the door, eager to escape the stuffy room.

[Edward"Butcher"McMillan]

Moderation Post:

Closed by request

The following CP has been issued:

Mitchell - 8CP

-JT