Target Practice

[alexander]

The private moved across the field in a brisk manner. His Lee Enfield MK4 strapped to his shoulder. He had completely missed the assault on Normandy's beaches. Most of the soldiers who had made it through had told him that he was lucky, but he didn't feel that way. He had signed up for action, not to run errands for the company's commanding officer.

Alex stopped and looked around for a bit, seeing a few tent poles laying on the ground, he grabbed five and drove them into the soft French soil. He looked around again, and saw a few helmets and a pair of boots laing on the ground, again no one seeming to be in need of them. He walked over and stuck them onto the poles, tossing away one of the helmets. He walked back a bit, and when he figured he was far enough he took his rifle into his hands and lined up the sights. Steady, calm, and cool. Almost all the things he wasn't, and what was essential to be a good shot.

However, Alex had something that he thought was more important then anything. God given' talent. He squeezed the trigger, BANG! A boot flew to the ground. He cocked the bolt and shot again, BANG! BANG! Two helmets were on the ground with holes in them. Only a boot and a helmet left. BANG! BANG BANG! He missed one of the shots, but made up for it quickly. Nothing left. He gave a grin as he placed his rifle across his shoulders, and rested his arms on the rifle.

[♔ Liam J. Brentwood]

A soft humming noise brewed nearby, followed by the hunching noise of suspension bouncing; a military jeep bouncing over the rugged terrain of the French soil huskily moved onwards along the dirt track within the short distance, the engine healthily, but straining to the revs bellowed the hard noise of mechanics a mile-off, the soft soothing noise of metal against metal, a true noise that would have Engineers drooling or so Lieutenant Brentwood thought, as he presumably figured the metal heads would do anything to get their mittens under the bonnet of a vehicle.

As Liam’s hands gently ran along the cold steering wheel, his head twisted slightly, overlooking the French countryside for a brief moment, whilst his few men muttered to one another, jokingly making small talk about a woman named ‘Betty’ back-home. The Lieutenant grinned to himself quietly and allowed the men their fancy talk for the journey, not to mention driving them along. Usually the Lieutenant would sit proudly in the passenger seat, accompanied by subordinates to do the dirty work; no, Lieutenant Brentwood was off the hard school and a proud loyal commando, distinguishing his divisional stature with the red beret and golden pin attached to the front, his fellow men standardizing the same uniform.

CRACK! A gunshot beckoned through the midst of the air and Lieutenant Brentwood hit the breaks sharply, looking around quickly to where it came from, his men jumping into action as Private Welton latched onto the heavy machinegun mounted on the back of the jeep. “Sir…” one of the men uttered out, but sharply being interrupted as Liam lifted his hand to quiet the man, his eyes gazing over the area slowly, his ears pricking to the few more cracks of rifle-fire. The distinct pauses in between certainly ruled out any automatic fire and the threat level dropped within his mind, it only sounded like a bolt-action rifle.

“Alright lads, hold tight” the Lieutenant said briskly, as he yanked the steering wheel sideways, hitting the accelerator to plummet down the side of the hill they were perched on, the jeep rocking violently as it sped onwards over the rural terrain, heading towards the noise with a quick haste, the engine roaring violently as it leapt a mere few inches from off the ground when hitting an uneven surface - the men cradling their rifles desperately, as to not drop them, whilst somehow trying to hold tight to the metal and less graspable surface of the jeep it’s self.

Suddenly, one of Lieutenant Brentwood’s men pointed towards a figure in the distance, shouting above the noise of the engine “Look! There’s a bloke over there, think he’s firing at us!?”[/I], one of the men laughed as they smacked him across the back of the head to say “You’re bloody blind, he’s not even facing us”[/I] again, the men gave another chuckle, they were indeed behind the male who was shooting off towards something and Lieutenant Brentwood began to slow as they got nearer - American? More so, it didn’t seem like anyone was firing back at him, so the Lieutenant continued his approach with a slower speed, leaning out of the door a little as he watched the man with interest.

“Oi, chap! Everything okay?” the Lieutenant shouted out slightly, the humming of the jeep vibrating elegantly, whilst all four of his subordinates gaped onwards towards the man for a reply, one of them smugly grinning as he winked at the man cheekily.

[alexander]

As the sun beat down upon Alex's helmeted head, he yawned lazily. France wasn't that bad, he was expecting much worse. Like the smell of rotten cheese everywhere that he had heard about wasn't there. The air smelt clean, and warm. Growing up in New York he wasn't really used to the country side either. It was beautiful, and he could understand why even now there was a resistance in this country from the natives sons. Though he didn't believe they would be capable of much without good old Uncle Sam's help.

From a distance came the sound of an engine. He paid it no mind. He was sure that there were plenty of supplies to be moved and things to be transported. He didn't care for vehicles much, they gave him the feeling of being trapped. Though granted they had their advantages, one well placed shot to the head of the driver and they would be useless. The noise became louder now however, and out of curiosity Alex turned his head the moment a voice called out,

“Oi, chap! Everything okay?”

He raised an eyebrow, surprised more so by the accent then anything else. He hadn't realized he had wandered off so far from Headquarter. Either the accent or the red beret gave away the soldiers nationality. However, his eyes immediately went to the mans left arm, were he saw the signs of a lieutenant, and a bunch of other English men no doubt in the jeep with him. One of which gave him a wink, to which Alex chuckled.

"Yes Sir, everything is fine sir. Just getting in some practice, don't want to get rusty right sir?"

He placed the butt of his rifle on the ground and leisurely leaned on it, a smile stained his young features. His uniform still crisp and clean.

"Out on patrol sir? And you wouldn't happen to have a smoke would you?"

[♔ Liam J. Brentwood]

The Lieutenant’s body continued to pleasingly lean against the hunk of the doorframe, finding the soft tremor of the metal canvas soothing against his abdomen; his arm sprawled across the top of the windowless door too, whilst his other hand stretched outwards on the steering wheel, almost looking like he were cruising for pleasure across the foreign French soil? His subordinates on the other hand looked a little uncomfortable on the back, but didn’t complain, as they knew hitching a ride with their Lieutenant’s new jeep was far better than walking… Or steadily marching at a fast pace, something the Lieutenant done all too often.

As the male turned and smile with an appointed ‘Sir’ and small explanation, Liam glanced up to look downfield at the makeshift targets - well, what was left of them, camp poles with topless targets. “Good, Good” the Lieutenant muttered somewhat in reply, giving a slight nod of approval to the man’s practice, more he could say than his own men; a lazy bunch, but aggressive in battle none the less - the English were known for their fowl tempers and war cries, not to mention regular tea breaks.

Sighing to himself somewhat, the Lieutenant broke a quick smile and shook his head “Patrol? Nahh, we’re on our way to a rendezvous North of here, been driving since this morning -- could do with a break mind you” the Lieutenant said with a glum beckon of the shoulders, before slipping his hand into his upper shirt pocket, pulling out the popular American brand of cigarettes, Marlboro. His fellow men gaped at him with a slight bedazzled look, never receiving a cigarette from him when they asked him, now the Lieutenant teased them, pulling a curious look towards the American “Cigarette? Sure” he said with a grin, one of the men muttering out “Bloody Yank…” beneath his breath.

Twisting the ignition off, Liam pushed the door open with his leg and gave the men a half-interested look to say “Take five, go have a ruddy leak if you need too and for crying out loud, don’t leave your rifles in the jeep” the men all nodded and uttered a quick Sir… faintly, before jumping out and snidely looking at the American from the corner of their eyes, as they paced off down the greenery, stretching their limbs.

“Don’t mind them lot, think you Yanks have stolen the war from us” Liam said with a wink, slipping a cigarette out for himself and holding the box outwards towards the soldier to take one, whilst he patted the numerous pockets on his uniform for his lighter, stepping out of the jeep slowly, padding down his trouser pockets with a slight confused look to where his lighter had gone.

[alexander]

Alex smiled as the lieutenant seemingly approved of his use of time. He seemed quite at ease in the jeep, more so then his men in the back anyway.

“Patrol? Nahh, we’re on our way to a rendezvous North of here, been driving since this morning -- could do with a break mind you. Cigarette? Sure” ”

The privates smile grew even larger as he watched the lilieutenantrummage through his pockets. It had been a while, and the lack of nicotine had made him a bit fidgety. He heard one of the other English 'blokes' mutter bloody something or another. It didn't matter much though, and Alex let it slide.

He took a quick step back when the jeeps door was kicked open. The lieutenant gave his instructions to the men and they went about on their way, stretching and sneering. He didn't mind, he had gone through worse prejudices back in his own country. In fact it made his grin grow only more.

“Don’t mind them lot, think you Yanks have stolen the war from us”

His gaze turned to the liutenant and he simply chuckled at the wink. There were lots of things that he knew could be stolen, but war wasn't one of them. He took a cigarette and placed between his lips. Pulling out his lighter, a small silver box with an American flag engraved on it, he lit the end and took a nice drag of the cylinder of tobacco.

Pulling the cigarette from his lips, he watched as the lieutenant searched his being for something he seemed to have lost. "Here, catch." He said simply, tossing the thing in the air. "You can keep it, to make up for us stealing the war and what not. Besides, it's never good to be without a light sir."

[Daniel Brennan]

Daniel walked onto the scene at the same time as Lieutenant Brentwood pulled up in his jeep. He had been on a short walk in the french countryside, away from all the loud noises and smoke at base. He hadn't been walked for long when he heard the sound of shooting. Thinking that there might be a wounded comrade, he rushed to the scene where he found an American soldier talking shots at old rubbish propped up with sticks.

He walked up to the two men, "Practicing your shot, eh?" He cheerfuly questioned the private. He looked around him to see a squad of british soldier who had obviously come with the officer and his jeep. " 'Thought somebody might have gotten hurt," He said grinning.
"But its good to have some practice," He said to the man.

It was lucky that there hadn't been a fight because Daniel was only carrying one clip for his weapon and he would almost surely have been killed if he had ran in on a firefight. "Who are you two anyway?" He asked a bit rudely. "I'm Sergeant Brennan."

Daniel wondered what the British were doing out here. It was an American sector and you rarely saw any british soldiers. He voiced what was on his mind. " What are you English doing out here? He asked the lieutenant. "Retreating" He added under his breath. He took out his water bottle and took a small drink from it. The French heat was burning down at him, it was a hot day today.

[♔ Liam J. Brentwood]

As the Lieutenant searched his pockets for the mysterious disappearance of his lighter, his wit acted quickly as the man uttered out “Here, Catch”[/b] and Liam’s eyes darted to the silver object with a keen eye, his hands instinctively formed together at the wrists, catching the lighter like a cricket player. Nodding towards the American and laughing a little to himself, he held the lighter up a little to admire and say “Cheers, not a bad trade Private”, before he flicked back the cased top and flinted a light to roll over the dry tobacco end, inhaling quickly to break a glow on the cancer-stick.

Snapping it shut, he twisted it within his palm to look over the flag engraved on it and couldn’t help but grin to himself, never had he imagined himself using an American lighter, it was an unorthodox thing for a proud Englishman to do; particularly after being predominately saved by them at the last moment, it was a shame the Americans hadn’t complied with good ol’ Churchill’s requests for aid and help in the first place. It was a blessing Pearl-Harbour had happened, in an ironic way, otherwise who knows how many more lives would’ve been taken by the Axis invading Britain and Ireland, Pearl-harbour being the only reason America had to declare war, after being dragged into it.

Another voice emitted into the midst of the air and the Lieutenant looked up slowly, after plucking the cigarette from off his lips to hold between his fingers. The man held a healthy standard of Sergeant and the chevrons seemed to be weighing him down, as he ruggedly turned his remarks to the Lieutenant who suddenly sprung up from out of his jeep, briskly walking to the man with a firm glare, almost standing over him? “Would you like to repeat that Sergeanttt?” the Englishman said with a gruff smoker’s breath, his head leaning in towards the man slowly. “Back-straight son, head up, you know the routine of addressing an officer” the Lieutenant said harshly, breaking down the Sergeant a little in front of the fellow American Private - showing just how crude and horrible this Lieutenant could be.

Suddenly the four Englishman from his travelling squad came running over, one of them daringly locking the bolt upon his Lee-Enfield, all seeming a little protective of their CO. “Everything alright Sir?” one of them asked curiously, none of them approaching the Lieutenant too closely. “Yes lad, everything’s fine --” the Lieutenant said quite quickly, cutting it short to what else he had to say as he took another drag on his cigarette in front of the Sergeant, before turning his back and walking away slightly, showing just how mean he could be, no matter how high or low his guard was.

[alexander]

Alex nodded his head in agreement with the man. He enjoyed the company of this English man, and then something he had said earlier caught up with the private. He took another drag and blew the smoke from his nostrils. He had said that they were heading north. Did that mean there was some action up north? The thought made his heart beat a bit faster.

Kellson had lost his entire unit, and was waiting to be reassigned. He had missed D-Day because of one of the CO's running him around on a ship instead of sending him out along with his unit. He was hoping to be reassigned to the first infantry division. He knew that the heads would probably prolong the process so that they could run him for a few more days.

Then another man, another American soldier came along. Alex met his gaze, and in response to his statement simply shook his head with another chuckle, "Yes sir, practice makes perfect sir." How he was tired of saying sir all the time. Then, he heard the Sergeant say something that might as well have been 'Shoot me right between the eyes.' Alex stepped back, looked at the ground to hide the amused look on his face.

Alex listened while The British Lieutenant chewed out the lower class officer, and heard the rushing foot steps of who he was sure was to be the other British commandos. He didn't understand why anyone would have wanted to insult anyone on their side, as far as the private was concerned, if you had a gun and weren't pointing it him, you were alright. As the British lieutenant began to walk off, he pulled his eyes back up and called after him. "Is there any action going on up north sir?"

[Daniel Brennan]

What Daniel wasn't expecting was the lieutenant biting his head off. It had only been a little joke. Men from both sides regularaly teased each other about different things. It was only a bit of fun. "Sorry sir!" Daniel hastily called over, straightening his posture as the man had ordered him to. He didn't know if the lieutenant was allowed to do something to him, but it's better to be safe than sorry.

"Sir, it was only a little joke, sir" Daniel called while trying to catch up with the lieutenants brisk steps. "Small little dig, sir. Wasn't the truth at all" The English men that were in the jeep were now coming over and Daniel didn't want a big scene. The men at the barracks would be making fun of him for the rest of the war if this got out. "Just a joke, sir! Danel pleaded quietly. Starting a fight with one of your allies was is definatley not a good thing.

[♔ Liam J. Brentwood]

OOC: Alex, NCOs (Non-Commissioned officers) don’t require you to call them ‘sir’. They’re simply known as their title, so Sergeant Brennan will be addressed as “Sergeant”, same with “First Sergeant” or “Corporal” for that matter. Only CO’s (Commissioned Officers) may be addressed as “Sir”, such as Lieutenants, Captains, Majors - etc… Hope that’s helped!

IC:
Walking away slowly, almost taking a deep breath to regain composure and ease his short and quick temper, the Lieutenant’s men gave another weary step backwards as he ventured into their general way. A call from behind stopped him however and the Lieutenant couldn’t help but give a slight uninterested look over his shoulder, still seeming a little aggravated by the Sergeant’s remark - Liam himself being one of the retreating soldiers of Dunkirk, leaving behind good friends who stayed to fight the good fight, giving everyone else a good try to escape the wrath of the rolling German Panzers and Army coming their way; the joke touched a bitter nerve.

“Action up North? If you’re a commando dear-boy, you have action left, right and center” the Lieutenant said with a slight cheeky grin, before nodding to his question and saying “Yes, there’s action up-north son”, but as the Lieutenant turned towards the Jeep, he listened to the Sergeant’s plea and following calls behind him, freezing the Lieutenant within his tracks to bite at his lower lip, taking a real slow turn towards the male, whilst eagerly dragging upon his cigarette again, as if using it to make his lips useful to not infuriate the situation anymore.

Looking upon the man with a firm and blank look momentarily, he plucked the cigarette from off his lips and blew the smoke a little lazily, allowing it to float around his facial features from the dormant breeze. “Dig Sergeant? Wasn’t the truth Sergeant?” the Lieutenant said, repeating what the male spoke, almost like a slight echo or more so, mockingly. Taking half a step forwards, Liam shook his head slowly and looked at the man, ever so slowly planting his hands upon his hips, beckoning a slight tilt to his head to open his mouth again “Tell me Sergeant, you ever seen thousands of men running for their lives? Hundreds more staying behind, just so good ol’ Charley can tell his mother the war’s coming right their way!?” the Lieutenant took a brief pause a few of the men behind him dropped their heads, almost like they remembered the day just yesterday.

OOC: Feel free to ignore the following paragraph if you want to keep this strictly neutral.[/I]

Liam shook his head and pulled a slight smirk, looking between everyone slowly, before making a quick sigh and turning to his jeep again, as if he wasn’t even going to wait for an answer from the Sergeant “Alright lads, get your gear together --” but as the Lieutenant could finish what he was about to say, one of his young commandos shouted “Sir - Airplanes eleven o’clock!”, the Lieutenant looked up sharply and almost dropped his jaw in awe, before hollering “GET DOWN!”.

[Daniel Brennan]

OOC: I've just realised that something is really wrong with my character application . In the writing sample I had wrote that I was in Dunkirk, helping to get the trapped troops away ...

Daniel took a step backwards as the lieutenant turned to him and started to angrily give him a lecture. His foot slipped on a small pile of leaves and he almost fell over backwards, but he managed not to. He was about to reply that he had seen a few hundred men run from his old training sergeant, but he decided not to infuriate the officer even more.
He had heard of people having grudges, but this man seemed to hate him after only a few minutes! Daniel thought of the trouble that he must have gone through in Dunkirk. Leaving good friends and officers behind. Thousands of them! It must have been hell on earth. Daniel turned his head to the ground and muttered out another apology. "Sorry, sir." He muttered.
He looked on as the lieutenant told his men to pack up and leave. Daniel groaned to himself, it appeared that he had angered him so much that the man was leaving. Daniel looked up at the sound of a man shouting something about airplanes. Daniel quickly looked up at the sky, where he could see a small group of Planes coming towards them. He couln't tell if they were fighters or bombers, but either of them could easily kill everyone down on the ground. Now he could hear the deep sound of the engines. He threw himself to the ground as the lieutenant told him to and hoped that everyone else had the sense to do that. He covered his head with his hands and waited as the planes drew closer.

[♔ Liam J. Brentwood]

As the Lieutenant shouted the Order to ‘drop’, he himself quickly lost grip of what he was doing and hastily threw himself off the dirt-track, his body fumbling down a small embankment-side to the dirt road, his cigarette still clutched between his nimble fingers and his palms clasping against his beret to hold his head down. He hadn’t much time to man handle his own men down, but they were all commandos and cut from the same cloth, their distinguished heavy footsteps and grunts clearly insinuated their quick move of action, their bodies dropping off the roadside and hitting the dirt hard.

KA-KA-KA-KA-KA![/B]
The tremendous noise from one of the spit-fighter BF-109’s mounted guns roared like blazing cannons, as it strafed low and swooned overhead of the ‘small looking convoy’, the hard projectiles kicking up the dirt with their MG 131 machineguns, spattering over the greenery. Ironically, the Jeep evaded any serious damage and a few cascading bullets clunked against the exterior, chipping and scratching the paintwork, but that was the least of their worries, as the one strafing aircraft spun upwards, it’s two co-wingman aircrafts still lurking within the sky above. Most likely awaiting movement before taking another shot.

Slowly raising his head, Lieutenant Brentwood shakily pushing the cigarette clutched between his fingers against his lip, almost like he’d preserved the cancer-stick’s life as much as his own. Inhaling deeply, he blew a puff of relieved air from his lungs and slowly pushed to his knees, looking around quietly, hearing no curdling screams or painful cries; that was a good sign right? “Everyone Okay!?” the Lieutenant shouted out, one of his men slowly standing to look around wearily, uttering out “Aye - I’m good sir”, a few other’s following suit as they slowly raised their heads, all reluctant to make any quick movements.

Licking his lips, the Lieutenant stood straight, glancing around slightly towards the sky, before hastily moving towards his jeep, running his hand over the bonnet to feel any holes - thankfully, the engine was okay by the look of things, no bullet holes or smoke. “Sergeant, you okay?” the Lieutenant hollered out slightly, standing by the jeep wearily, the buzzing noise above them still lingering, until a slow moving cloud broke wind of a dark spot sliding through -- “Oh no, they’re making another round, Get down again!” shouted Liam, as he suddenly started running down the dirt road, his body just about to hurl it’s self when yet another chain reaction of firing opened up on them.

[Daniel Brennan]

OOC - This is what I call a thread! . Sorry if my post aint up to scratch. I'm not using Word as I sometimes do.

The fighter plane - As Daniel just found out - swooped low over the ground, strafing the road as it went along. The machine guns drove deep furrows into the ground, one of them right beside him, showering him with clay and dust. Daniel was face down in the dirt, and he couldn't see any of the other men. He hoped that none of the other men had been hit, but that seemed unlikely.

Once the plane had swooped back up into the sky again, Daniel turned
slowly onto his back. He heard the lieutenant call out to him from over the bank at the edge of the road. "Yeah, fine!" Daniel called back out to him. He slowly dragged himself to his feet, aware that the fighter was probably still around. He walked over to the jeep, where the lieutenant was checking for holes. "Don't think its been hit" He told the officer, trying to be helpful. "I'd say we would 'ave heard the metal if it had been hit?" He asked the lieutenant, still trying to be helpful.

The sounds of the fighter could now be heard clearly again - It was coming in again. The lieutenant shouted out to get down. Daniel tapped him urgently on the shoulder and pointed over to a small ditch by the side of the track. Not waiting to see if the lieutenant and understood, Daniel ran forward and slid into the damp ditch. There was a small pool of water running along it and he was wet the minute he slid in. Daniel flattened himself into the water, just as the ground outside exploded with machinegun bullets.

[♔ Liam J. Brentwood]

OOC: Feel free to control any enemy airplanes or what-not! Sorry if my post isn’t great.

The Sergeant did try to help the Lieutenant and he didn’t intentionally pay a lot of attention to begin with, it was a blessing his jeep wasn’t being trundled into the ground by the spit fighters! Although, without retaliation or moving it, he was pretty sure it would be damaged quite soon; again, pushing the worrisome thoughts aside, the Lieutenant’s body had juggernauted off as the screaming cry of the aircraft darting downwards began to swoon overhead, oblivious to the Sergeant’s point towards a ditch, noticing a little too late…

His body wandered side to side as he practically sprinted off down the dirt-track, picking his moment to dive off, almost like he was awaiting until the last moment to anticipate the spit fighter’s line of fire, his head jerking back a little as he gazed towards the daring aircraft that began to spit balls of fire towards them, the tracer rounds hitting the earth like a killing ray of hailstones, the Lieutenant’s legs moving with immense force, before he quickly hurled himself off towards the left embankment of the dirt-road. The line of fire thankfully strafed off towards the right and the spit fighter roared off into the sky again, performing a twist to it’s aviation upwards, perhaps boastfully?

Grunting, the Lieutenant’s body hit the ground hard and a slight snapping sensation cut through his torso from the impact. Gritting his teeth, his tight skullcap beret ruffled against the low-cut grass and his body pushed through the fatigue building, the sprint of a run he’d performed in ‘semi’ battle gear had inevitably broken a sweat upon his forehead. “Sir! You alright!?” one of the voices called out, as a heavy footed man trundled up the embankment on the opposite side, wearily crossing the dirt track to kneel and look down towards the Lieutenant, who began to slowly raise with a disgruntled look and a quick nod, his breathing slightly laboured and his fingers flicking the scrunched up cigarette from off his fingers.

Pushing up too his feet, the rugged soldier tried to help, but was met with a piercing stare and a hot-tempered push “Stop fuffin’ around! Go get the lads together - quickly!” ordered the Lieutenant, that caused the Soldier to stutter out a “S-Sir”[/b], before turning tail and heading back towards the others laying low in the grass. Working his own way up the embankment, his head snapped up to the buzzing wearily and glared off towards just how far his jeep was; he must’ve sprinted half a mile! Taking a slight trot to his legs, hoping to cover ground a little quicker, the Lieutenant remembered the Sergeant and suddenly shouted out from the pit off his lungs “Sergeanttt! Get on that mounted gun!!!” the Commando’s face a brewing red and his arm throwing out agitatedly towards the Jeep’s rear mounted 30. Cal, at least the Sergeant could provide some cover whilst he tried to make ground back to the jeep, his arm wavering out again towards the men laying low, telling them with a simple aggressive arm-movement to move on up!

[Daniel Brennan]

OOC - The guy who made the thread hasn't posted yet . I think we should leave him behind!

This time the bullets didn't come near Daniel. They carved a track straight down the road, some of them hitting the jeep, causing small dents in the metal. Luckily it seemed that no bad damage had been done, but it needed a new painting soon. Daniel, in his sodden clothes crawled back up out of the ditch. The planes were circling menacingly, above. The British soldiers were now coming up from where they had hidden, and they were looking around, confused.

Daniel looked around; Where was lieutenant Brentwood? He had tapped him on the shoulder, but had dived into the ditch before he had a chance to see where the lieutenant was going. He glanced down the road, and saw him sitting crookedly on the ground about half a mile away. He heard him ordering one of his men away from him, and he then called up to Daniel to get on the large machine-gun in the back of the jeep. Daniel used the rear tyre as a step and hoisted himself back onto the back of the machine-gun. The planes were circling lower, now. They were probably coming down the strafe again. Daniel checked over the machine-gun. It was fully loaded, and ready for fighting. He didn't have a hope of hitting the planes, but maybe it would scare them away. Daniel squeezed the trigger, sending bullets into the air, seen as small yellow flashes.

"Get in the jeep!" Daniel shouted at the Bristish men. "Get in, and drive down to pick up the lieutenant!" They obviously couldn't think of anything better to do, so they piled into the vehicle and the jeep started moving down to the lieutenant. The planes didn't seem to be coming closer for now. But, they were still very low. One of them passed by over head, with a small burst of bullets, which missed the road altogether. It swooped up again, after Daniel sent a spray of bullets up towards it. The jeep pulled up to where the lieutenant was barely standing, and a man got out to help him in. The driver left the engine on, ready to speed away at a moments notice.