Fun with a PIAT... (Brentwood)

[♠ James F. Mason]

Anyone can join, but please don't be joining 10 posts into the thread. No more than 3 people, including James. Also, I'd prefer if you let Brentwood post first

James looked down along the large barel of his P.I.A.T. anti-tank weapon at the truck sitting on the grass 30 yards away. He shifted slightly. He was lying down flat in his stomach with his neck strained upwards, which was an uncomfortable position to say the least. The captured german vehicle was basically worthless now, except for target practise with grenades, and now a PIAT. It had been captured in excellent condition, just left in a depot, but the engineers had made the smart decision of canibilising it so they could fix/upgrade a handful of different vehicles, rather than use it as it was an only have one new truck.

They had taken practically everything; The engine had been snapped up straight away, the seats in the front of the truck had been taken to an officers armoured car, the wheels had been put on another truck, the steering wheel and mosty of the dashboard had gone to a jeep, the tailgate had been melted down and made into god knows what. Even the benches in the back had been burned in the mess hall a few nights ago. Of course these thngs didn't matter to James. The truck still looked normal enough from the outside (For some reason nobody had taken the doors) and as long as it could be blown up, he didn't care.

He fired, sending a high explosive shell streaking across the sky and by sheer luck passed straight through the bare side window of the cab and exploded, sending a few dangerous pieces of metal flying a few yards. The cab itself jolted two feet into the air, the roof buckled outwards and the doors were sent flying off. The floor also buckled downwards, breaking the axel into a point downwards which tipped the truck onto it's side when it landed. James, Jason Jones and John Marshall had carefuly placed ten bundles of sandbags wrapped in tarpaulin in and around the vehicle and somehow, three of them had been blasted clear away from the vehicle with only minor damage. Jones and Marshall lifted up their Lee-enfield rifles and fired, finishing off the "Soldiers". James cautiously got up to his feet. "That was great!" He declared, brushing grass off his uniform.

[♔ Liam J. Brentwood]

“BOOM!”, Captain Brentwood’s head instinctively ducked a little from the explosion in the short distance, Sergeant Alexander who was accompanying him also flinched to the surprise curdling crackle of explosive thunder that’d erupted out of the blue. “What the heck?”[/I] muttered the Sergeant quietly, as he slowly and cautiously looked about himself, as if worried a couple of German Junkers weren’t approaching, dropping their pay load at the dozen. The Captain couldn’t help but do the same for a brief moment, as he looked up towards the dauntingly bright clear sky, knowing fully well German Aircrafts wouldn’t venture this deep into their territory upon such a clear day, plus, where were those mean clunking German Engine noises they were renowned for?

“Sounded like it came from down range in that field” Captain Brentwood said curiously, knowing they had a training yard a stone’s throw away, but were they using it for projectile and gunnery purposes now? Which soon enough rifle shots emerged. “Let’s go take a look, jump on the 30.Cal Sergeant” the Captain ordered quickly, as Sergeant Alexander hastily climbed from out of the passenger seat, propping himself over the rail-bar behind their heads to man the weapon. Adjusting the gear, the Captain patted the outside of his door to let the Sergeant know he was about to pull off, his foot pushing against the accelerator softly as they pulled away with a small skid against the gravel beneath their tyres.

Driving along the dirt road, the Captain narrowed his eyes some as he caught wisp to a plume of smoke smouldering from out of the field softly. “Sir - A German truck! It’s been pulverized alright!”[/I] said Sergeant Alexander with an applauding tone to his voice, but soon realised the dangers of perhaps more trucks or enemies nearby!?/ “I see that Sergeant, wait, over there. One of those ruddy buggers has a PIAT!” surprisingly spat out the Captain as he twisted his head to stare off towards a small crack squad of soldiers, one of them lumbering a cumbersome PIAT within his grip. “Captain - Aren’t they Royal Marine Commandos?”[/I] he pondered out loudly and curiously as he recognised the battle fatigues and distinguished golden cap badges on their green berets. “-- Well I never” murmured Liam in astound tone, as he yanked the steering wheel to the side, deciding to take a closer inspection.

The Jeep bounced a little as the suspension creaked to the mild mannered dirt terrain they were moving along, driving casually up towards the men up front. Turning the jeep a little as he basically came within six foot of them, the Captain pushed the breaks and looked towards the young soldier with the PIAT, before glancing towards his comrades. “Alright Lads - Having fun?” the Captain asked with a wide grin, his eyes lisping over the PIAT somewhat in a loving fashion. The Sergeant up back of the jeep let go of the 30.Cal and began to rub his hands together, grinning some as he climbed down, looking upon the men himself. “You our boys?” questioned the Sergeant some, as he approached one of the young privates to pull at his lapels slightly, before lifting his head by the chin to look at the green beret insignia. “Blimey, you are… New recruits!?”[/I] he asked quickly after, knowing the Captain would’ve filled him in on new men being assigned to the division, seeing as he was as close they was going to get to a brother or father.

Whilst the Sergeant questioned them some, the Captain climbed out of the jeep and walked around it, approaching the young man with the PIAT. “Captain Brentwood - Who’re you son?” he asked firmly, before glancing towards the Sergeant who went quiet as the Captain asked the questions more mild mannered, rather than husk and firmly.

[♠ James F. Mason]

James lay surveying the scene of, well, wreckage in front of him. "Good shots, lads," He said to Marshall and Jones. The sand was spilling out of the bags that had been shot and some of it was lifted up into the air by the wind. "Very good..." He muttered more to himself. At that moment he heard that sound of an engine coming down towards him. "It's a jeep, James" Marshall told him, while straining with his eyes. "Looks like it's coming towards us." he added. James turned around to look at the jeep approaching. There were two people in the jeep, one driving and the other on the browning machine-gun in the back. James realised that they were probably investigating the sound of the truck being blown up.

The jeep pulled to a halt close to them and as the driver stepped out, he realised that it was in fact his commanding officer, Captain Brentwood. James had seen him a few times before briefly, but he hadn't ever actually spoken to him. While a sergeant made a few comments in the background, the captain walked over to James and asked him who he was. Trying not to sound nervous, James saluted firmly and replied; "James F. Mason, sir. And these two are Jason Jones and John Marshall," He said indicating to the two men behind him. "We were just practising for combat with the PIAT, sir." He said and nodded towards the smoking frame behind him.

He turned towards the sergeant; "Well, not really new, I suppose. We were sent out on a raid in Germany a while ago. Blew up a train. And I was on First Sergeant McMillans team in the training excercise" he added. He looked hopefuly up at the men; hoping he wasn't about to be berated.

[♔ Liam J. Brentwood]

Watching the young man with the PIAT buckle up his heels to stand straight and inform the Captain of his name and rank, Liam ever so slowly peeled his eyes away from the male to look towards the two other comrades he was accompanied with; Sergeant Alexander stepped back from the young private he was inspecting with a keen eye and pair of hands, almost expecting the men to be fooling around in uniforms that wasn’t theirs or at least for them to be in another brotherly and competitive division of the Royal Marines. The Sergeant endured a good competition.

“Ya’ hear that Sir - this young bugger blew up a train!” laughed out the cocky Sergeant as he folded his arms up against his chest, growing a wide grin across his bruiser of a face, looking towards the Captain who seemed to perch his hands onto his hips and quietly look over the few men. “Aye, he’s a strong lad to be dealing with a weapon as to that ruddy thing and for the record, I read your report lad” Captain Brentwood said with a admirable smile towards the young soldier, patting him on the arm firmly, before replacing his hand back onto his hip - his head tilted a little as he bit at his bottom lip, looking at the men rather fetchingly for a brief moment, as if contemplating an idea.

Without word, Captain Brentwood turned towards the jeep took a couple of steps towards the passenger side. Leaning in, he slid his hand under the hard framed seat and pulled out a large roll of masking tape. “James - May I call you James Private?” asked the Captain generously, almost knocking the Sergeant from off his feet as he stood there, arms folded, witnessing the first time his commanding officer has ever been ‘off duty’ and casual. As Liam stood straight from the jeep and approached the young man with the PIAT, he stood before him and looked at the cumbersome weapon. “I used one of this back in Dunkirk, a whole bunch of those poxy Jerry Bastards were held up in a building down this narrow road. I tell ya lad, one shot with that beauty you’re holding and they fell apart like they were made of glass”, Liam winked some as he pulled his hand up under the boy’s arm, lifting the PIAT a little.

As he just about opened his mouth to say something, the Captain felt the eyes of the other Privates and even the Sergeant balling holes into the back of his head. “Sergeant - Make yourself busy. Grab those empty fuel cans in the back of the jeep and set them up down range with spacing of - Oh I’d say thirty yards between them”. The Sergeant straightened up as the Captain gave him some orders and smirked some to slip out “Aye, Aye”, before turning towards the jeep to haul together a few empty fuel cans, but as he walked past one of the private, he slung one of them against his chest and muttered out “Give us a hand Private”, before continuing to walk down range with two of the empty fuel cans.

Captain Brentwood looked back towards the young Private and took a breath to continue “Alright, see the tailgate end of this PIAT, you want to wrap it up in Masking tape lad. These ruddy buggers get hot after a few shots, so when you’ve got it on your shoulder, it stings like a bitch and trust me, there’s nothing worse than having a sore shoulder when you’ve then got to carry your pack” and with that, the Captain yanked the masking tape out in length, awaiting for the lad to hold it in a way that would allow him to wrap the tape around it. “Just for the record James, you impress me in the next ten minutes and I’ll see you fit enough for a promotion. You done some good work on that train” Liam said with praise, which was rare.

[♠ James F. Mason]

James did frowned a bit at the Sergeants teasing remarks. For some reason that man always made him uneasy. He did have an air of arrogance about him. His cheeks felt hot at Captain Brentwood's humoring compliments, but he did feel pleased that somebody in higher command had read the report. That was the way you got around to being promoted. He sort gave a sort of shrug and a grunt. "Thank you, sir."

The three Privates looked on in interest as the Captain started rummaging for something in the jeep. "James - May I call you James, Private?" the Brentwood asked him. "If you want, sir" he replied. The three now saw that he was holding a roll of masking tape in his hands. He appeared to notice everyone staring at him and he asked the sergeant to set up fuel cans out in the field. The sergeant nudged against Marshall on the way past and told him to give him a hand. Marshall obeyed obediently. The two start walking out into the field and they split up to work going along in opposite directions. They both placed their first cans down and continued on their way.

He listened to Brentwood speaking about wrapping the end of the PIAT in masking tape so as to make it easier to carry after it had been used a few times recently. ”Thank you, sir,” He said with real gratitude in his voice. He wasn’t just being polite to the Captain; it really was a good idea. ”I’ll make sure to do that.” He assured his CO. James lifted the end of the PIAT up a bit and shifted his grip further down, so the masking tape could be applied. He waited for Captain Brentwood to wrap it up. Unconsciously, he straightened up a bit at the mention of promotion. Like most infantry privates, he longed to be promoted just so he wouldn’t be the lowest of the low anymore. ”Yessir” he replied with real enthusiasm in his voice. He hadn’t thought that the captain could be this friendly before he met him now. It was odd what you automatically thought of someone just by their look or their rank. Of course, he did know how angry the captain could get.

He wanted to ask him a question, but he wasn’t sure it would be welcome. He hesitated for a few seconds before asking the question; ”Sir…” He paused before continuing. ”Sir, there’s been a few rumors heading around that there’s going to be a big brush up with the enemy sometime soon. They say we will be facing an experienced unit somewhere in France… I also heard that there might be enemy armor?” He hoped he hadn’t overstepped Brentwood’s line of friendliness by saying this. James carefully studied his face to see any signs of recognition.

[♔ Liam J. Brentwood]

As the young Private lifted the PIAT somewhat upwards, that would allow Liam the beneficial freedom to wrap the end of the PIAT with the making tape, he couldn’t help but smile to himself also as the young soldier straightened up and thankfully acknowledged the Captain’s Idea. Reeling out the line of masking tape a little more, he soon leaned forwards and slipped the end of the tape towards the rear of the weaponry, before tightly and neatly, rolling it around the cumbersome and warm metal of the PIAT - where it’d already undergone a shot or two.

The strong smell of tobacco illumed the Captain as he leaned in towards the young Private, making sure the makeshift craft work with the masking tape was tight and doubled with every stringing roll of it made upon the tail end of the weaponry. As he concentrated on wrapping up the warm end of the PIAT, he listened intently as the young Soldier appointed a curious question; Combat. Taking a moment to mull over the thought of lying or being honest, Liam glanced up towards the young lad and smirked slightly, before nodding somewhat as he continued to tightly wrap up the end of the PIAT. “Aye, you heard right lad” he responded quietly and straight to the point, giving the PIAT another two or three tight quick rolls of the masking tape, before he split the end with his fingers and ripped it away - folding up the last dangling piece of tape against the weaponry.

“That should do. Nothing special, but it’ll take the edge of the heat when leaning that beauty against your shoulder for a period of time” the Captain broke a vague smile and stepped back a little, half twisting his body to toss the roll of masking tape off into the jeep, listening as it clunked against other numerous materials he had stored in the back of the jeep. It was probably a miracle any gunner could move in the back of the jeep, it seemed like the Captain could’ve been bit of a person to clutter stuff at times.

Turning to face the young Private again, he couldn’t help but feel bad for brushing the young boy’s question aside so quickly. Taking a breath to himself, he also began to realise his blood-stream was running low on nicotine. “It’s not healthy to get so much fresh air…” he grumbled to himself slightly, as he fumbled out a pack of American Brand cigarettes, shuffling the packet a little within his grasp to slide out a cigarette. “Smoke James?” he asked curiously, extending the packet to him in gesture to take one, as he took a step towards him. “Look, I understand you and the boys are worried about seeing action, but you do as I tell you lad and you might just get through this. You’re not the only one who’s going to be on that frontier boy” he said a little stiffly and quietly towards the Private, in hope the other soldiers weren’t eavesdropping.

Rolling the unlit cigarette between his lips a little, he folded up the pack of cigarettes and slid the packet back into his pocket, patting himself down for a lighter, whilst he continued to quietly speak to the young lad. “Can I tell you a secret Private?” he asked curiously, but didn’t offer a chance to reply as he told him anyway “The Royal Marine Commandos are currently undergoing discussions with the Americans, it seems like --” but he paused briefly as he found his lighter, pulling it out of his pocket to light his cigarette quickly, taking a long drag on it afterwards to blow a plume of smoke out with a distinguished smile forming between his lips. “Like I was saying, the big RMC could be undergoing a big change real soon lad. HQ seems to think our man-power could be used wisely else where and it seems that I have enough brownie points to get myself a tonne weight vehicle too… That’s right, a good ole’ Sherman” he slipped out cheekily, breaking a few secrets to the young Private. Whether they’d come out true or not, remains to be disclosed.

“Lined them up Sir!” spat out the Sergeant some as he came walking back, taking a hard sniff to himself, before climbing onto the jeep’s exterior, taking a seat. “Good, Good. Alright James, show us what you’re capable of” said the Captain, winking as he patted the male’s arm.

[♠ James F. Mason]

OOC- Jesus! That is a LONG post! Well, more to work with .

James looked at the Captain indignantly for a moment before he remembered that it was a captain he was speaking to and he wiped his face clean and gave the captain an obedient nod. In his mind he was still gaping at Brentwood, though. He had just brushed him off, just like that! He would have felt better if the officer had just tapped his nose and said; “Officers business, son” or something like that. Captain Brentwood continued rolling the masking tape around the rear of the weapon. As the tape was unrolled it occasionally emitted high pitched squeaks, which made James and Jason cringe slightly. The captain, however, didn’t seem to notice the sounds. Captain Brentwood ripped away the end of the masking tape with his fingers, leaving behind what seemed like half the roll on the newly decorated P.I.A.T. He pushed in the last bit of dangling tape and then it appeared he was finished.

Brentwood gave a sort of smile and then turned and threw the rest of the roll into the back of the already cluttered jeep. A few odd noises emitted from the back as the masking tape bounced off the wall, and then the tape “Settled down”. James turned his eyes to the handiwork Captain Brentwood had done to the back of his weapon and nodded a small bit. The captain was right to put on that much masking tape. If he only put on a small layer, then James would feel the heat as if there wasn’t anything there at all and the masking tape would be burned off if the end was two hot. How it was now, he hopefully wouldn’t feel the heat when it was on his shoulder. Another plus was it was now distinguished from the rest of the P.I.A.T’s in the Marine Commando’s.

By now Jones wasn’t paying attention to the two men’s conversation at all. He had long since realized that he wasn’t going to be included and now he was standing more to one side and looking at Sergeant Alexander and his comrade, Private Marshall carefully placing the old fuel cans down on the ground. By now he had guessed that they would be James’s target with the PIAT. They were a very small target compared to what they were used to be practicing on; Pallets, tree’s wrecked vehicles. Basically anything that was big and that nobody would miss. His fingers went to his belt where a few PIAT rounds hung, ready to be loaded. His fingers grasped the metal and he pulled it out a small bit so he would have quicker access when it was needed in a few minutes.

The captain mumbled something about fresh air and then he kindly offered James a cigarette. James looked at him, surprised, for a moment before he plucked one out of the packet and nodded a [/b]”Yes sir, thank you.”[/b] He held one in his hand limply between two fingers; waiting for it to be lit. He was even more surprised to here the man console him about seeing action. ”Yes sir, I’d march to Berlin and back if you ordered me to, sir” He proclaimed and then grinned. The man then asked if he could tell him a secret. Before James could nod dumbfounded, the man continued. James’s eyes widened slightly as he heard about the tank. A tank! That would show the Nazi buggers. They wouldn’t have a clue what hit them. He could already hear their inhuman screams as they were blown apart. Without him knowing it, he was smiling.

The sergeant lounged back and reported that the cans had been lined up. Brentwood acknowledged the man and then told James to start firing. ”Jones, load!” James practically barked. Jason Jones scooted over to him, with the shell already in his hand quickly shoved it into the weapon. James kneeled down on the grass with the PIAT on his shoulder. Then he carefully lowered himself down onto his stomach with the anti-tank weapon resting on its own stand. He breathed in the smell of the grass and relaxed his body; forgetting that Brentwood was there. He nudged the weapon with his body in the direction of the can and then using the primitive sight, he perfected the aim. He breathed out and fired sending the round screaming towards the fuel can. Marshall also seeing himself getting some practice in, aimed with his rifle at one of the most out-of-the-way cans and emptied three shots into it.

[♔ Liam J. Brentwood]

Plucking the cigarette between the indents of his index and middle finger, he inhaled sharply and drew the cigarette away from his lips, as he casually took a few long striding steps back towards the jeep. Twisting upon the hinds of his heels upon approaching where Sergeant Alexander had his body perched, leaning from out of the passenger side of the jeep, Captain Brentwood couldn’t help but admire the young soldier who seemed to surprise and better the expectations of him even further; Snapping his fingers at one of his comrades, who seemed to be the ammunition barer, the two men prompted a position and began to work the clumsy weapon together.

Loaded, positioned, aiming! The Captain couldn’t help but fold his arms and lean back against the jeep, watching how swiftly and quickly they regained the battle posture, from being at ease and side tracked with the Captain’s presence. “Nippy lot aren’t they? - Sir”[/b] slipped out Sergeant Alexander who glanced towards Captain Brentwood in quite an amused manner; Liam nodded quietly, his eyes fixated up front, knowing a moment’s look away could cost him the profound split second he got to see just how well Private Mason dealt with the weapon when it fired.

Ziiiiiiiiip! BANG! The Captain squinted his eyes some as a backfire of smouldering hot air and dirt came tumbling around his feet and legs, his hand idly and blindly pushing the cigarette back between his lips as he continued to observe the three men; One of them also taking the initiative of cracking a few pot shots at one of the fuel cans. The fuel can Private Mason aimed to hit, did indeed bounce from off the ground as the PIAT round fell a mere few inches from it - which was very impressive in it’s self. The weaponry was cumbersome, heavy and unpredictable. It was a mortar with legs in his eyes and for such a small target, the Private Mason impressed him that he’d got the angle and sufficient leverage just right. “Blimey, the sod done it”[/I] muttered out the Sergeant a little astonished himself, almost expecting the propelled rocket to spiral off into the nearby woodlands or fall a good few meters from it’s initial target.

Smirking a little towards the Sergeant’s remark, the Captain stood straight and pulled the cigarette back form his lips and slowly approached the two men - James and Jones. “Hold your fire lads, just for a moment” he ordered quickly, briefly pausing a little incase they didn’t hear him, but soon continued to walk towards the two men. Kneeling down on one knee beside James, he sucked another withdrawal of smoke from the cigarette, before attempting to speak. “Very nice, it’s rare for a prone position to be so accurate with the PIAT - you guys must be naturals” he said in a compliment towards James, before he shuffled a little closer upon his feet to grab at the end of the PIAT, shuffling it up higher onto Private Mason’s shoulder, before tapping his elbow a little to move forwards. “There, you want to hold that beauty against the arch of our neck and shoulder and keep your arm complacent against the dirt when prone, I saw your grip wobble a little as you fired. Least I need is one of my good marksmen with this weapon, dropping it after he’s fired it” he said jokingly, yet seriously as he patted James on the shoulder, plucking his lips against the cigarette again momentarily to suck another breath of smoke, glancing down-range simultaneously.

“See that fuel can furthest to the right - James?” he questioned some, half lifting his free hand to take a rough point, so he knew the general direction where to look. “I want you to hit that, but sit up, let’s try this with you kneeling like I am. Put one leg beneath yourself and steady your body with the other” he said in quick gift of advice, before pointing towards his comrade, Jones. “You lad, after you’ve loaded the PIAT, I want you shooting that fuel can to my left, let’s say you’re being flanked” he said with a wink, spicing it up some. Knowing not only should Jones be loading, but covering James too. Glancing over the two men, he caught Marshall’s attention by whistling some “And you Private - I want to see you hitting as many of those cans as possible” he said with a thumbs up to the soldier, before turning towards James and Jones again.

“Keep communicating… If it’s one thing those Jerry Bastards can’t stand, is our language boys. So I want to see you lads communicating and by god, you’ve got to work fast. So on my mark, you lads nail those cans out there” Nodding to them, he sprung up and walked back towards the jeep, hardly taking this third step, when he suddenly shouted “FIRE, FIRE, FIRE!” - snapping his hand out towards the Sergeant, the man immediately knew what he wanted him to do. Perhaps he was telepathic? Jumping onto the 30.Cal in almost a blink of an eye, the Sergeant pointed the gunnery upwards and began spraying the open sky with deafening rounds from the machinegun, adding to the atmosphere…

[♠ James F. Mason]

"Ha" Private Marshall grinned as the PIAT round hit the target bang on, knowing the fuel can away and blowing a small crater into the ground where the shell hit. James too looked triumphantly at the now, slightly bruised can which was a good it away from where it started. Out of the corner of his eye James could see the Sergeant exclaiming surprise that he had hit the target. Jones allowed himself a small laugh and he patted James on the back, companionably. James glanced back at Captain Brentwood, waiting some sort of reply from him. He was happy with himself that he hadn’t messed up with his shot at promotion, So far. He hoped to get in and stay in the captain’s good book.

The captain finally responded now and told them to hold their fire. He then surprised James by giving him the best compliment, so far, saying that they must be all naturals at… well, destroying tanks. He then moved up to James and tapped his elbow and started perfecting his position and grip. He nodded as the captain said he had seen his grip wobble a bit as he fired. He must have been observing very well; James’ grip had wobbled a bit just after he fired the weapon. He grinned as the man joked about not wanting him to drop the PIAT in the middle of battle. That was one thing he was definitely trying not to do in his next battle. But he made a serious mental note to remember those words whenever he was using the PIAT. It would be a disaster if he was in the middle of a fire fight and he dropped the weapon. He would spend a few precious seconds picking it up and getting a good grip on it and that might be all the enemy would need to rush in and shoot everyone.

Brentwood pointed to the fuel can furthest to right in the long line of them. ”Yes, I see it, sir”, James answered the question. James grimaced as the older man told him to fire in a kneeling position with one leg under his body and the other one steadying his body. ”Well, it isn’t a bazooka, sir” He half complained. But, regardless of his own thoughts on the position he did as he was told, putting his right leg underneath his main body while his left leg was slightly in front of his body. He hefted the heavy anti-tank weapon up onto his right shoulder happy that the masking tape was there, because it made the weapon slightly more comfortable while resting on his shoulder. Brentwood continued giving instructions to the other two privates, telling Jones to be hitting the ones on the far left when he wasn’t loading and telling Marshall to just hit as many as possible.

He told them that the most important thing was to keep communicating. James couldn’t figure out how that could be useful. Maybe, he pondered, it was just to keep soldiers minds off dying or being wounded. They wouldn’t have time to think about gruesome deaths for themselves, if they were busy shouting at each other. He could definitely understand why they should work fast, though. The man started walking away as if he was going to a safe distance to watch the working, but he startled James by suddenly shouting fire, fire, fire! He might have said more, but James didn’t know because suddenly the sergeant was on the jeep and madly spraying bullets up into the sky. Jones had time to think a smart ‘He should be careful he doesn’t hit our own airplanes’, before James shouting ”Jones, load!” next to him brought him out of his reverie.

Just after he told Jones to load the PIAT, he shouted a ”Fire, fire!” at Marshall, but he needn’t have bothered for the man had started firing just after Brentwood had ordered. Jones’s hands deftly slid the shell into the breach and he stood back a pace to avoid the small bit of recoil from the shot and started firing with his own weapon at the can to the far left. James’s body quickly turned towards his designated fuel can and he lined up the sites. He fired a little hastily and was already shouting ”Marshall covering fire while we load!”. While Marshall had been firing a few well aimed shots at different fuel cans, now he quickened the pace and started firing wildly, not really aiming at anything; just in the general direction. Jones finished loading and he stopped firing.

James now frowned as he noticed that although the can had been knocked over, it had only just about been knocked over. He hadn't got the angle of the barrel quite right, so the shot had fallen about two metres short of the can. The three men, Marshall and Jones panting heavily looked back at the captain to see what he would say about their performance.

[♔ Liam J. Brentwood]

Grinding his teeth a little, Captain Brentwood drew one of his hands up towards his left ear, rubbing at it in a half tepid manner, from the hammering noise coming from the heavy gunnery up front that’d almost split his eardrum open from the close proximity of being on the opposite end - Beneath the weaponry almost. Leaning back against the jeep and squinting as the muzzle flashes sparked from the gunnery beside him, his eyes wandered over each of the men playing out their roles he’d assigned them. It wasn’t his intention to come here and put them through the paces, as of that to a drill-sergeant or training instructor putting them through their paces, but the Captain did have some experience with the weaponry and hoping to correct the mistakes made by himself and other’s many moons ago - He prayed he wouldn’t see the mistakes be made again, not if he could help it.

Looking to the Sergeant, who sprayed the open sky in short bursts, adding to the atmosphere of being under suppressive fire, the Captain reached over and tapped him on the leg, hoping to grab his attention, rather than shout above the loud racket. Looking up the Sergeant, the Captain sliced his hand across his throat three times, in another signal to stop firing, before he looked up front to the lads that’s exerted themselves from a three minute fire-fight. Unfortunately, the fuel can toppled over from the tremor, but nothing more. In all honesty, the Captain expected this. He’d surprised them and put them through their paces within the moment and he didn’t seem let down, as a tight grin took to his lips and he nodded quite appeased with the effort they’d put in.

“They look tired already…” said the Sergeant with a smug smile, as he leant against the 30.Cal to look between everyone, awaiting the Captain or someone to say something. Liam half looked at the Sergeant, agreeing with his remark, but they had a right to be exerted from the fast pace they was put through. Pushing from off the jeep and walking towards the general direction of the men, he gave an approval nod. “Good, Very good” he said once again with an approval manner, sliding the cigarette back between his lips once again, dragging out a long winded breath of tobacco smoke from the cancer-stick. “You need to get some practice with using that PIAT on your knees James. If you ever become compromised in the field by surprise, you won’t have time to lay that beauty down upon a raised mound of dirt to gain a suitable aim” he said in a critical piece of advice, tucking one of his hands into his pockets to look up front upon the range.

“You two Privates - Jones and Marshall right?” he questioned briefly, as if to make sure he got their names correct. “Nice shooting, just make sure you both know how to load the PIAT and even use it yourself. Just incase the worst ever happened” he slipped out towards the end, winking towards James. “Great job thou’ lads. Impressed” and with that, the Captain turned towards the Sergeant on the gunnery who put his thumb up, agreeing with what the Captain had to say. “Oh, one more thing - James” he suddenly sprung out, turning back towards the men, flicking his butt-end off into the grass, blowing out the last plume of smoke from his lungs. “Pop by the local Infirmary on your way back, see if they’ve got any Corporal Chevrons from the tunics they’ve got left over. I’m sure one of the young nurses wouldn’t mind stitching ‘em for you,” his grin returned momentarily as he looked towards James, obviously promoting him.

“If there’s nothing else lads - I’ll take my leave” he said quietly, standing there, awaiting to hear anymore questions they may have. “Be more than happy to drop you lads off at the Infirmary if you’d like?” he motioned afterwards, courteous enough to give them a ride if they were finished training.

[♠ James F. Mason]

All three men - Mason, Marshall and Jones - felt a burst of pride at the captain's simple "Good, very good". Marshall waved his hand over his face and swept a lock of sweaty hair out of his eyes and saluted Captain Brentwood. Private Jones frowned slightly at Sergeant Alexanders remark, but it was wiped off his face when he realised that the man hadn't been quite serious and he let a grin brighten his features. James, feeling smug also had grin on his face and he waited for Brentwood to speak again. James nodded: " I'll start practising tomorrow, sir" he replied. Well, that would only be if his hangover wasn't too bad...

The man turned towards the two other men and complimented them on their shooting and offered further words of advice: telling them to make sure they both knew how to operate and load the weapon incase anything ever went wrong. He said this last bit with a wink towards James. "Don''t worry, sir" Marshall replied. "We both know how to load and fire it, so don't you worry about us" He grinned cheekily. James was surprised to see the Sergeant give them a thumbs up. He had gotten the impression that the man against was them for some reason. The Captain added in a last bit which made James lose his grin for a second, before it returned wider than before. "Thank, sir!" he uttered out. Ha! No more being ordered about by the corporals for him anymore!

They shook their heads at Captain Brentwoods question on if there was any last questions they would like to ask. James was about to turn and leave when the man asked if they would like to be dropped off at the infirmary. James shook his head. "No thank you, sir. I need to stop off somewhere before I go to the infirmary," He said, leaving the obvious place where they were going unsaid. The two others at this moment were edgeing quitly away from the jeep, before the man might ask them if they wanted a lift there. James saluted the captain and nodded to the sergeant before turning around and jogging to catch up with his companions. They started walking in the complete opposite direction to the infirmary. In fact, they were going down the road that would take them to the pub.

The end I suppose. McMillan, do your magic.

[PuNk! ™]

Moderation Post:[/b]

You're probably going to think, why has he issued so much CP to himself and James? Well, look at our posts, we've posted in bulk detail each time and I think we deserve a good estimate for it.
Following CP has been issued;

CPT. Brentwood: 17CP

CORP. Mason: 17CP

~Danny[/color]