Think You've Earned It?

[♔ Liam J. Brentwood]

OOC: The Assault-Course. Royal Marine Commandos Only.

Time: 0700hrs (7am)
Conditions: Fog & Drizzle of Rain

The once Open Field that was used to play football and rugby games, was now specifically designed to the Lieutenant’s liking. A makeshift assault-course, but this wasn’t any ordinary training course, it had the element of danger and to be a commando, you had to have the nerve and courage; not to mention physical physic to keep going, whether it were your first breath, thousandth’ breath or last breath. So the gruelling training course set out for the men beneath his command, were about to be rudely awoken.

Liam’s jeep was parked at the start of the training course, his body rising from the passenger seat as he clambered up onto the bonnet, standing tall over the many dreary and tired green beret heads below him. He himself was dressed to the according dress code of the newly converted division, his hands making light work as they rested at his hips. “Listen up you sorry lot!” shouted the Lieutenant above the chit-chat of the numerous men, well over Thirty of them, most of them fresh recruits. Easily seen by the extra care to the uniform.

Glaring over them from his higher position, he grinned to continue “If you didn’t know already, I’m Lieutenant Brentwood, your Divisional CO and for those new faces I see, ALL take your Green Berets off! NOW!” scowled the Lieutenant, as he leant down from the bonnet of the jeep to yank one of the green berets from off one of the soldier’s head’s standing a little too close, causing the man to shockingly look towards Liam in a manner that begged to be differed with. “Now, if you think you’ve earned the right to wear this already, you’re WRONG!” huskily spat out the Lieutenant, who threw the Green Beret back to it’s owner, his eyes lisping over the new faces slowly, who began to take their berets off, tightening them under their left shoulder’s lapel.

Taking a moment, the Lieutenant soon continued as his now ‘hated’ voice amongst the men grilled out into the cold wet air sharply. “To be a Royal Marine, you need Nerves, Courage and a bloody good backbone!” inspiringly shouted the Lieutenant, before strafing his hand off towards the misty assault course, to speak again “And I’m going to test you all on that right now - You lose your nerve, you lose your head! Life ammunition will be used throughout this course, so do as I tell you and you might just make it!” worryingly announced the Lieutenant who jumped down from off the front of his jeep, hitting the ground hard with his tightly strapped dirty boots. “If you’d like to leave, the Wussy Infantry is that way - I’m sure they’d love another bum boy” laughingly spat out the Lieutenant again, as he moved through the men towards the beginning of the Assault course, undoing the buttons on either side of his shirt sleeves to begin rolling them back, revealing his muscular forearms.

Standing stern with his hands on his hips again, he glared at the men and eyed them up quietly “You’ve had your warning, so who’s ready to earn their place in the Royal Marine Commandos? Eh?” questioned the Lieutenant, his jaw perking up a little as he watched the men question themselves, only a couple coming forwards to start with, before a few more reluctantly approached… Most of them contemplating their courage…

[♠ James F. Mason]

James stood there in the mud, in his green beret, listening to the other men talking. He stood at the front of the crowd, trying to suppress a smile from crossing his face. Most of the rumours that were going around were complete crap. They were started by the older members, to try and scare the new recruits, and it was definitely working. ”I heard they are going to make us fight a German POW with a knife,” One eager recruit said from somewhere behind him. Somewhere over to his right he heard someone say that they would have to swim across the channel to pass this course. James wasn’t sure what the course actually was, but he did know that it wouldn’t be killing a German with a knife.

Lieutenant Brentwood hopped up onto the front of the jeep and started lecturing them, starting with the traditional, “Listen up you sorry lot”. All of the men knew who he was right now. He was the centre of most of the rumours going around. James looked to the man beside him in amazement, when he asked them to take off their Berets, but he quickly followed the orders, taking off his beret and shoving it under his shoulder. James shivered slightly in the cold. It was foggy and wet; the worst weather for an assault course. His head was already damp, without the Beret to keep it dry. Brentwood spoke about how they needed Nerves and Courage to be a Royal Marine Commando. James thought that he had these skills, but he wouldn’t know until he tried the course. Some of the men were now starting to look worried. The man beside James nudged him and gave him a look of shock, silently asking would he be able to do it.

The crowd parted for the Lieutenant, as he walked silently through them, with James falling into step behind him. He was starting to make some insulting comments, now. Maybe he was trying to gouge the men into doing well in the test, or maybe he was trying to get the weaker men to leave, so he wouldn’t have to waste his good time on them. James tried to look smart, while standing there; hoping that he wouldn’t get singled out for some kind of lecture. The lieutenant asked who was ready to go on. Nobody took a step forward for the first few seconds, then a couple of the more older men there, took a few steps forward. Then, James and a few others stepped up towards where the other two were standing. James wasn’t a coward at all. He just wanted to make sure that he wouldn’t be doing the assault course all on his own. After that, most of the remaining men stepped forward, reluctantly; it would probably have been worse for them if they didn’t volunteer. James looked expectantly at the lieutenant; waiting for him to tell them what they were doing next.

[Edward"Butcher"McMillan]

It was a slightly dreary day and looked as if we were in store for some training. McMillan loved to train in horrible conditions, this wouldn't be the first time and it hopefully wouldn't be the last. He quickly looked over the faces in the crowd, some of these guys were fresh out of basic from the looks of it, actually looked like most of them were. McMillan was new to the unit just like most of the soldiers in the crowd but found himself having to get a hold on things all the while becoming second in command of the unit. It had just been re-designated and had troops from both the US and the UK in it. Looked as if it were going to turn into some sort of specialty unit. He was getting ahead of himself and came back to the present promptly when their CO showed up.

From the get go McMillan could tell he was going to enjoy serving for this Lieutenant Brentwood guy. He had a swagger about him that was rough around the edges and he liked to dive into the training head first it seemed. That sat just right with McMillan. He did as instructed and removed his beret, actually liked that fact that he had too, didn't want to spend any extra time having to clean this small piece of fabric, wouldn't even wear it into battle if given the chance at a PC (Patrol Cap).

As the Lieutenant went through the crowd, making degrading comments and what not McMillan couldn't help but smile, he knew he really would enjoy this. but he had a small feeling right in the pit of his gut that didn't carry well. He did say live ammunition, not a problem, he did say training, again not a problem, and he also said new faces, yet again, no problem. The problem lied in the combination of it all. You had new guys with live ammo, on top of all that it was training, so the only people that could get shot were their own.

As the Lieutenant asked for volunteers McMillan gave a quick look around and figured he should be one of the first to the line and took a step forward along with a few others, as he did he looked over his shoulder that was facing away from his commander and said in a low tone of voice so as to hopefully only be heard by the rest of the men standing about without anything on their heads, not the Lieutenant "The first one of you that flags me with a loaded weapon, oh by the way that means point it at me, whether it was intentional or not, I'm going to lay you out cold. No warnings, no hesitation, and no honor if you are looking away. If you didn't know you screwed up, I'll explain it to you when you come to." He said it with all the seriousness he could for he was not kidding around. One new private had a smirk that crept onto his face as he said it. A quick singling out with McMillan's index finger washed away all the Private's doubt. McMillan turned back to face the monstrosity that lie before them and awaited further instruction.

[♔ Liam J. Brentwood]

Lieutenant Brentwood had a “Theme” going with the local Royal Anglian Regiment situated within the barracks. Numerous times, he’d sent soldiers over to their Officers with a message, a message that insulted and degraded their division, hence forth getting the soldier punished - this tactic was handy when dealing the dirt, as they had more than the odd one or two familiar faces to deal with, but rather many more. Of course, the fellow Infantry Unit done the same back. Humiliating and breaking down the soldiers was all apart of the process to making them mean machines and thoughtless; the thinking was his job.

As a few people stepped forwards, the Lieutenant let out a full hardy cough without even bothering to cover his mouth, before clearing his throat and spitting onto the slow turning slushy mud from the drizzle. The Lieutenant was far from posh and nor’ did he ever miss a training session himself, which was ironically worse for the subordinates, as he’d be in their faces through the thick of it, dragging and shouting at them to carry on. He couldn’t wait for the day they pleaded for him to sit in his high-chair and watch them do the training.

Soon enough, a bigger group began to emerge before him and the Lieutenant satisfyingly nodded, folding his hands up behind himself to stand straight, ready to talk again “Alright then ladies! Let’s get started shall we?” announced the Lieutenant broadly, before twisting his body to look off towards the beginning section of the man-made assault course. “We’ll be starting with a hard crawl through the mud for fifty yards - Everyone must keep their gear on, rifles in arms and don’t you even dare think about getting up! Because dear Private Welton over there on the 30. Cal will be shooting four foot above our heads” hardily and firmly spat out the Lieutenant, who gave a mean look amongst the men, before nodding to one of his subordinates in the jeep who started the girl up; getting it into position.

“So! The morale of this lesson - KEEP YOUR BLOODY HEAD DOWN! NOW MOVE!” Gruelled the Lieutenant all suddenly, as he surprisingly pulled out a whistle from beneath his shirt, blowing it loudly to cause a deafening sting to the eardrums. Pvt. Welton swivelling the Browning 30.Cal around to the assault course, hitting the trigger to cause another deafening racket, whilst Pvt. Hawks pulled the pin on two smoke canisters, tossing them onto the field. Along with the drizzle and mist, the field now became a blanket of white, with the specific ‘Tracer Rounds’ loaded into the Gunnery the only thing seen through the smoke. White darts and sparks crackling through the smoke.

Grabbing one of the soldiers by the gruff of his uniform, he shoved him down into the dirt and turned towards McMillan, almost about to do the same until he saw the man’s chevrons and grinned instead, winking towards McMillan with a very quick “Blow this whistle if someone’s hurt”, Liam’s hand slyly slipping a whistle into his pocket, before patting it as it to let him know where it was. “Let’s get moving Company Sergeant Major!” he soon bellowed out, before turning to the next man with a pull by his uniform, dragging him onto the field, as if to get some of the men kick-started, before he himself turned and mercilessly dived down into the muck and grime, crawling a few feet before looking back and shouting “MOVE, MOVE, MOVE!”

[♠ James F. Mason]

Lieutenant Brentwood started explaining the training course and James just stopped himself from shivering. The man was explaining with so much glee in his voice, that he could have been telling them the war was over. He continued to insult them as he went on, and now all of the new recruits were looking terrified. A fifty yard Hand crawl? That didn't sound too bad; he had gone through worse than that in training. But, of course this was only the start. It wouldn't make any sense to do the hardest first and the easiest last. The machine-gun wasn't very new at all, too. Nearly all the barbed wire he had ever crawled under in training, had been under machine-gun fire. Most of the men here had done it before. Jame's wondered how long the course would be. Brentwood certainly didn't seem like the type of person that would let them off easily. He seemed more like the type of person who wouldn't even let them off when the had collapsed!

Jame's tightened his hold on his rifle as the .30 calibre machine-gun started firing. A couple of men threw some smoke grenades out onto the field. Now Jame's couldn't see more that a few yards in front of himself. The lieutenant started grabbing some shoulders and throwing them down into the dirt. He noticed him exchange a few quick words with another solder. Apparently he had some favourites in the company. Rather than being pushed down by the lieutenant, James decided to go in himself. He ran up to the wire and slid under it on his stomach. They were all going to get covered in mud anyway, so there was no point at all in trying to keep clean. He started crawling, quickly towards where he knew the other side was. He could see a few people around him and he could hear more coming up behind. He passed what must have been a dead rat; caught somewhere else and thrown into the obstacle course. He looked around for a second, keeping low all the time, and spotted the Lieutenant behind him and to his right. He certainly didn't want to be anywhere near the lieutenant, so he quickened up his crawling even more.

Machine-gun bullets suddenly zipped into the ground a few yards in front of him. Whether it was an accident, or done on purpose to try and scare the men, Jame's didn't know. There was a small rise in the ground in front of him. He crawled up one side and slid down the other into a pool of stangnant water. This wasn't the time for worrying about his uniform, so he just got out of the puddle and crawled on. The smoke seemed to have been mostly blown away by now, but there was still fog that greatly limited his vision. James suddenly could see the end of the wire in front of him. He quickened up his pace for the last few feet and rolled out of the mud, his clothes, brown and soaking.

[Edward"Butcher"McMillan]

The Lieutenant was ready to get this show on the road, more than some of the other guys apparently because they seemed to hesitate and the Lieutenant helped them along in a slightly forceful manner. McMillan was about to hit the dirt as the .30 Cal opened up up the Lieutenant sent him a wink instead of to the ground. He slid something into his pocket, and by the instructions he was given he figured that it was a whistle.

As the Lieutenant stepped out from in front of McMillan on to the next soldier in line, McMillan hit the dirt, before the little bit of mud that had splashed up had settled the man that was next in line hit the ground a little harder and further ahead, even slid about a foot and a half when he landed. This Lieutenant had some strength to him and that was great to know. McMillan grabbed the front sling mount on his carbine and laid the rest of the rifle over his bicep with the barrel pointed towards the opposite end of the field and set off.

He hadn't made it four feet when the smoke had finally covered the entirety of the first obstacle they were to tackle. The wire had been placed and fixed in a thicker way than he was used to training with but it brought a slight smile to his face. He was willing to train as much as possible so long as he either learned something or was presented with a challenge to overcome that he hadn't encountered before. Just off to his left he could see a new private doing a damn fine job of negotiating the course and was moving down the field at a pretty quick rate, faster than McMillan anyway which was saying something. McMillan had been in many predicaments in the past and been through some pretty tough training, he was pacing himself a little bit, figured it would be a long day, but still at a somewhat fast pace. He figured with the visibility the way it was that there wasn't a need to take off at full speed. Then he was reassured in his thinking as the quick private off to his left disappeared over a little mound and McMillan heard a little bit of a splash over the loud ringing in his ears.

As McMillan crested the small mound that he had just saw the private disappear over he looked just ahead of him and noticed that the whole other side of the small hill had not been flooded, still pretty muddy though, better than just straight water on a cold day. Before McMillan made his way to the drier crossing point he looked back for a few seconds to see if anyone had been hit, he couldn't see them all but he spotted the majority of 'the lot' and they seemed just fine. "Let's keep it moving guys! Let's earn this day we have been given, and the beret of our unit!" He patted the whistle in his pocket to make sure it was there and set off across the last part of the crawl, as he made it away from all the water he turned back, remaining low the whole time and counted the rest as they crested the mound. He added that to the rest of the ones that had made it and the number was over thirty for sure but he didn't know if he had spotted them all. Everything seemed in order though.

[♔ Liam J. Brentwood]

OOC: Great Posts guys, sorry I’m not giving you much to play on, I’m trying to keep each obstacle separate and this “Assault Course” is more of a team work thing, rather than race. So I’m subtly testing you on your skills; Teamwork wise. Promotions are occasional these days.

IC:

Inexpressibly, the Lieutenant ploughed along beneath the hard mesh installed by a few cocky engineers a couple of days ago, one of the many finishing touches made. His elbows digging in beneath the wet soil and his knees priding and pushing his body forwards with a catapulting leap every time almost, the Lieutenant certainly knew the obstacles well, more so, when the engraved ditch emerged up ahead. Instinctively, Liam’s hands clapped against the dirt and his fingernails embedded for a better grip; foolishly or bravely, the Lieutenant pulled himself over within a motion that had the small embankment dealt with quickly, but his landing however caused a slight splash.

Cuffing the dirt from off his face with the use of his forearm, the Lieutenant stopped briefly and looked back towards the slightly slower men doodling behind. Almost about to open his mouth and spit a mouthful of encouragement, or insult to injury at them, someone filled his space and the Lieutenant gave a slight curious look momentarily, wondering who was cheering them on. Of course, it was the Company Sergeant Major, but the mist, smoke and drizzle, combined with mud had the Lieutenant slightly stooped for who was chanting them on; none the less, it was welcoming and all the Lieutenant could do in compliance to the Sergeant’s reassuring plea, was “C’mon you Lazy Lot! Keep moving!”, but his voice most likely sounded like more of a muffle beneath the muzzle fire of the 30.Cal.

Without gear and a rifle, the Lieutenant’s empty hands and lightweight body made quicker pace of the crawling through muck than most other’s, as he clambered up the rising embankment of the wet ditch to roll a little in the process on making it over the opposite end. Using the mesh above his head to help pride himself back onto his front, the Lieutenant spat slightly from the dirt that’d caught onto his lips and continued onwards, yelling “There’s nice a TEN-Foot brick wall waiting for you after this! Now get moving!”, this time however, he made sure his voice was heard above the commotion of the browning 30.Cal hitting holes through the slowly dispersing smoke above their heads.

Reaching the end, the Lieutenant eagerly dragged himself out and staggered up to his feet from catching his foot in the mud, before turning towards the small group that’d finished the first part quickly. Suddenly, the Lieutenant sprung from off his heels towards them and pointed at each man - Particularly James F. Mason. “You Lot! Fast bunch, you’ll be my lifters - Get against that wall now, move it, move it!” ordered the Lieutenant, who marched towards the high concrete and brick wall, before turning towards James and saying “You’ll do three lifts, then pass it onto the next man, now give me a foot up!” he barked a little, pointing towards the wall somewhat, his foot already lifting up to meet the man’s combined palms if they were already there or not, not really needing to explain the whole wall scenario, as it was most likely involved with their basic training too.

OOC: Obstacle #2: Ten foot wall, use teamwork to get over it. Obstacle #3: (wait for me, before entering this next area; but it’ll be a ‘shooting’ obstacle)

[♠ James F. Mason]

OOC – This thread is good; I’m lovin it! But, why “particularly” James?

A few more men crawled out of the mud and stood next to him, most of them as dirty as he was. Some of them looked even filthier, but he was the only one who had been unlucky enough to fall into the “pool”. Sergeant McMillan was helping out some of the slower men, urging them onwards with words of encouragement. The 30. Calibre had now stopped shooting, because there was a high chance that it would hit on of the men who had already made it out. James didn’t know what he was meant to be doing next, so he calmly waited for someone to come along and tell him what do. He jogged on the spot to try and keep himself warmer; the fog was icy cold and his clothes were already wet.

A soldier jumped out from under the wire, as muddy as everybody else. James didn’t recognise him at first, but he realised that it was Lieutenant Brentwood when he started barking orders. He groaned to himself when Brentwood singled him out to help him up the wall. He slung his rifle over his shoulder and cupped his hands together. He gave a little grunt as he hoisted up the medium sized man. He was lighter than he looked, but was certainly no feather! The next man ran up to James and quickly scrambled up the wall, barely using James’s hands at all. By now, most of the men were out of the wire and they were lining to get boost over the wall. James hoped that the Lieutenant would wait for them at the other side, because he didn’t want to be left behind. The next person was huge. James just about managed help him up a small bit, before his arms were nearly ripped out of their sockets. Luckily the man had already gotten a good grip on the wall and he was halfway up when James let go.

A pair of hands thrust themselves out in front of him. He didn’t even look at the face; he just placed his right foot on his hands and scrabbled for the wall with his hands. His fingers found the top and with a heave from his shoulders, he pulled himself up, his feet franticly looking for a foot hole."Thanks" he wearily called down to the man who had helped him up. Out of politeness, he stayed at the top for a few seconds and leaned back over the side; holding out his hand to help the next person up. Once the man had found a purchase on the wall, James jumped down to the other side of the wall, rolling on impact.

[Edward"Butcher"McMillan]

Everybody seemed to make it out of the first obstacle just fine and the heavy barrage of fire from the .30 Cal had ceased. Most of them were wiping the mud from their uniforms, it was going to get heavy quickly. The Lieutenant let us know that the next obstacle was a ten foot brick wall, even in these conditions should be able to get a pretty good grip on brick with boots. McMillan slung his hands toward the ground to clear away some of the mud so as to get a better grip if needed.

One of the privates shoved his back into the wall and started helping some of the soldiers over, he looked like he was having a time with one of the bigger guys so McMillan stepped in and relieved him. He wiped the small amount of mud from his brow and shoved his back into the wall."Let's get two lines going guys. The faster you can negotiate an obstacle the less time the enemy has to hit you while you are vulnerable!"

He shoved one man up the wall and saw two others plant their backs next to his. That was what he was hoping for, for some of them to take some initiative and get the job done. He said two lines and they made three. This unit just might turn out alright in the end after all. As they continued pushing them over McMillan heard a thump on the other side "That's using your head!" the next one McMillan shoved up he told to let him know if the man was ok once he made it over.

With a quick nod the private disappeared over the wall and yelled back a moment later He's ok sarge, just dropped his rifle.

"HE DID WHAT!?!? GET HIS NAME!! I WANT IT WHEN THIS IS OVER!! Well that figured, as soon as things seemed to start going pretty smoothly, some idiot had to go and mess it up. McMillan helped the last guy up and told him to help pull him up. As McMillan reached the top of the obstacle he looked out at the rest of 'the lot' for the one face looking dead at him he knew that was his idiot.

[♔ Liam J. Brentwood]

Slapping his hands down onto the brunt of the wall, the Lieutenant easily lifted himself and straddled the brick wall, after a healthy and useful push from the private below. “Good lad, keep that up” he swiftly let out, but wasn’t quite sure the man heard him, as the onslaught of soldiers suddenly sprung from out of the mesh and mud-ridden field. Staying on the wall for a moment, he leant down and helped one of the soldiers up, patting him on the back as the young man fell down the opposite side. Sitting idle, the Lieutenant observed the situation quietly, making sure everyone had a lifter to go too and those who didn’t, hopefully done some lifting of their own…

Thankfully, the Company Sergeant Major bellowed his voice out and leant some experience, pointing the men into the right direction, a quality he loved to observe. Nodding to himself, Liam lifted his leg over the wall and dropped down the opposite side, wiping his hand down his stomach a little from the muck and water, abruptly turning as one of the men dropped their rifles and soon the Company Sergeant Major’s voice bellowed out -- Liam grinned; not even needing to raise a finger to tell the soldier off. Perhaps he should get to know the Sergeant better? It wasn’t every day a man cowered away from a ten foot brick wall, afraid of a man on the opposite side.

Eventually, the rest of the soldiers began to draw in, most panting and other’s leaning forwards, gasping for breath. “Tired are we?” casually said the Lieutenant, as if he was looking sympathetic for a brief moment, before grabbing one of the young lads to push forwards towards a two foot ‘ridge’ of mud, purposely made for their next part of the training - the young man’s eyes gleaming as he looked at the Lieutenant, shaking his head “No Sir! Not tired Sir!” but the Lieutenant smirked, nodding quickly to bellow out towards everyone “Anyone who gets tired, will be back here TONIGHT, doing this again! In battle, there is no rest for the wicked! As Royal Marine Commandos - We are the best of the best, Are we not!?” questioned Liam all suddenly, glaring towards the men who in turn, suddenly spat out “Yes Sir!”

Nodding with a small approval, he collared his hand up towards the Company Sergeant Major’s direction and shouted out “Sergeant Major, you’ll take ten men and be known as Bravo Team, (NPC) Sergeant Alexander, You’ll also take ten men and be known as Charlie Team - Those with me will be known as Alpha Team” announced Liam quickly, before giving a nod towards the NCO’s, in hope they’ll get picking their men quickly. Hastily, the Lieutenant picked his ten swiftly and any left over’s were pointed off towards the other teams; standing upon the two foot dirt mound, acting as a natural small muddy wall, the Lieutenant shouted “Each team now has three wounded --” Liam pointed to three men in his crack platoon and they looked around quietly, throwing their rifles over their shoulders “You’ll now work in these teams ‘till the end, Listen to your leader and by god, don’t leave a man behind!” and with that, the Lieutenant jumped down to nudge the men, who instinctively picked up the so-called wounded to harbour within their grasps…“MOVE OUT!”

OOC: Obstacle #3, one we’re on now - Trenches with obstacles all the way throughout. Targets will appear randomly as you negotiate your wounded through the debris/obstacles; so make sure to hit them.

Oh by the way, Dan. You can control Charlie Team - SGT. Alex. Otherwise, join mine or McMillans and they’ll automatically be modded to the end. Saves us writing for them. Up to you.

[♠ James F. Mason]

OOC – I think I’ll go with McMillan if that’s alright.

James stood up from the ground, panting a small bit and rubbing his shoulders. Men were coming off the wall behind him. Some managed to jump down acrobatically and land on their, some just jumped and hoped for a good landing, and others just fell. One unlucky fellow dropped his rifle, which in Sergeant McMillan’s opinion was worse than falling. James moved away from the wall a bit; not wanting to hear the grilling that the man was about to get.

Lieutenant Brentwood saw some of them panting and was quick to make an example, of one of them. He pulled the startled young man from beside James, but the man was quick to tell him that he wasn’t tired at all. James winced at the thought of coming back here in the night to do the course. He wasn’t sure that any of the men assembled, would be able to do the course twice in a single day. He did wish that Brentwood would just be quiet. The course was hard enough without him lecturing them and threatening them.

James groaned out loud at the mention of teams. It was bad enough when they were all together, but it would be worse in teams. H had no doubt that the losing team would have to face some crazy punishment. The Lieutenant picked his ten men first – A few men frowned at this – and Sergeant McMillan and Sergeant Alexander were left to divide the remainder amongst them selves. The NCOs began to pick their teams and James ended up being with McMillan. He didn’t know the man much, but he preferred being with him, than one of the other two. Lieutenant Brentwood was much too snappy and Sergeant Alexander definitely wasn’t the brightest.

Three of the smaller men on the team stepped forward and volunteered to be the injured.
James looked at McMillan, ”Will we go, Sergeant?” He asked.

[Edward"Butcher"McMillan]

McMillan hopped down from the wall and landed almost into a squat then he straightened his legs, all the while keeping his gaze fixed on the private that ruined his day. He started of at a slow pace towards him but as the Lieutenant started giving instructions for the next leg of the event he came to almost a stop momentarily. Then his ears perked as he heard that he would be leading Bravo team. He set off at his slow pace once more and rapidly quickened it, still blazing a hole with his sight into the private's face. He could tell the young man was getting more fearful with every step. McMillan liked this, he was going to make a really fine soldier out of this one, or he would snap.

"You are with me and Bravo team!!" He spat at the soldier as he neared him. He grabbed his carbine off his shoulder and thrust it into the private's chest almost knocking him to his feet, as he did he knocked some mud away and got his name. "Private Taylor huh? Well private Taylor, you will be carrying my rifle as well as your own. Should you drop it you can clean it too along with all the other rifles of anyone with a lower rank than myself. And since you are such a good man and you don't want the Lieutenant to be left out, if he let's you, I'm sure you would want to clean his too." The private nodded so fast he probably got dizzy.

One private presented the idea of having the lighter men be wounded, which normally would have been McMillan's idea as well, but he had gotten pissed and this was about team work. "Good idea, but not this time. You, you and you Welton. Welton are you older or younger?" He pointed to the three biggest guys in his team. "Get on the stretchers and hand your rifles off, wounded don't carry rifles now do they?"

"Younger sir." The private replied sharply, almost with a slight tremble in his voice.

Younger!? You tell your older brother in the Lieutenant's team that he should have set a better example for you." McMillan watched as the three pointed out handed off their rifles and got onto the stretchers. "Let's get on these stretcher's men. Give me private Taylor up here as the odd man out." Taylor made his way to the front of the small foot convoy. "You are gonna be my point man." he said to Taylor "Don't lead us in the wrong direction and don't screw up, although you have my rifle, my 1911 can easily put you down if need be, you will stay three meters ahead of me, I'll be on the first stretcher. You are to make sure that these targets don't stay up for very long, but you will not fire my rifle, fire your own, you don't deserve to fire mine."

McMillan was hoping to get into the private's head and stress him out. That way he may just come out to be a pretty fine soldier before it is all said and done. He wouldn't shoot him, never even had the intention but the private didn't know that.

As they started down the small dirt corridor they hadn't made it ten feet and the first target popped up just ahead of them to the left. Private Taylor threw his rifle up quickly and fired, missing entirely and as he tried to operate his bolt, he jammed the rifle. McMillan dropped the foot end of the stretcher and drew his 1911. He fired two shots, the first hitting the target center mass, the second shot landed at the base of the neck and just off to the left, still a kill shot but he had fired quicker than normal not letting the pistol return fully from the recoil, mainly because he was pissed. The target dropped and McMillan just glared at the back of Taylor's head.

[♔ Liam J. Brentwood]

OOC: I’m extremely tired, but I feel compelled to write; Addiction.

The standards were set and the instructions given, a team work effort to the end, a first taster amongst the new recruits of what it must’ve felt like to work as a strong unit and most likely a bore for those that’d done it all before, like Private Hawks, who wandered over to the Lieutenant’s group from the jeep idly, in no real hurry to make a statement of his loyalty - Private Welton tottering behind, lumbering his rifle over his shoulder, whilst trying to roll a cigarette up for later.

Company Sergeant Major, McMillan’s voice strongly stood ahead of the men’s chatter and once again, the Lieutenant phased a curious and cheeky grin. It seemed as if the Company Sergeant Major was doing a fine job and soon enough stretchers arose from within their team - a decision however, Lieutenant Brentwood wouldn’t make. As a couple of the nervous recruits began to reach for the first stretcher, he shook his head and stamped his foot onto it, holding it down and causing the wooden handle to snap at their fingers. “No, the wounded will be carried in segments between all of us - three wounded, three carrying, four covering, in this case, shooting the wooden targets that jump at you! Stretcher bearers consist of double hands” intelligently announced the Lieutenant, as if he’d done this too many times, adding and subtracting heads. Something that might’ve been a nerving prospect amongst men? Subtracting heads…

Boldly, Liam walked up towards one of the young men pronounced wounded a few minutes ago and suddenly leant down to barge his head up sideways against the Private’s torso and scooped one of his arms up from behind his legs, lifting it across his shoulders. “Now you lift them like this, Lad, wrap your arms up beneath my shoulder--” as the Private shockingly coiled his arms up beneath the Lieutenant’s shoulder, Liam grabbed into the gruff of his arm for extra balance and strength, casually walking a few steps forwards, turning to show the men how it was done with a little know-how and strength. “See? Now, you two, lift the other’s - Quickly and I want two men upfront hitting these targets as we go and two behind, hitting them again - Okay?” ordered the Lieutenant, seeming a little more laid back, rather than shouting at them. Actually showing them some great one to one knowledge.

As Liam watched the other two wounded be lifted quite easily, with a few pointers, he concealed his appeased smile and turned to face the trench upfront. “Alright Fellas, let’s go. My two point men, which is YOU two” snapped Liam towards the two men who didn’t want to do it, but soon raised to the challenge, as they stepped forwards “Don’t go any further than five meters and by god, hit the targets well, now let’s move!” and with that, the Lieutenant tugged his wounded man further across his shoulders and broadly marched off towards the Trench, causing the two point to suddenly spring off, needing to run ahead a little to keep the distance barrier required.

POP!
A target emerged and someone had stuck a propaganda poster of Hitler onto it, PVT. Hawks and PVT. Welton weren’t taking part in the training, as they were already qualified commandos, but they still had orders to be side-line men and observe with great care. The jeep on standby to any casualties. Private Welton laughed from behind the group as he watched his small prank confuse the two men made to shoot the poster of Hitler preaching - Lieutenant Brentwood shook his head, waving the point men on as they done a good job on hitting the target, fearing that sooner or later, a target would appear with a mug shot of him stuck too it…

[♠ James F. Mason]

OOC - One year later... I post.

James smiled when the First Sergeant rejected the idea of the younger men on the stretchers, and instead pointed to the three largest men in the squad and telling them to get on the stretchers. That was very typical of an NCO. The men got on the stretchers and James walked over to the nearest one and took the feet end of the stretcher. After a few seconds another Private came over and offered to take the other end. "One, two, three" James muttered and they lifted the stretcher up at the same time, so as to cause as little discomfort as possible for the "injured" man. The mans rifle was placed on the side of the stretcher. James had his rifle around his shoulder and he hopefuly would be able to swing it down quickly if it was needed.

The stretcher wasn't too difficult to carry with two people carrying it, but it was awkward. If he had to access his weapon sometime in this course, he would be in trouble. If he dropped the stretcher then he could really hurt the man on it, so himself and Private Marshal (The other stretcher bearer) would have to set down the stretcher slowly and carefuly. The small band set off, with McMillan threatening and intimidating Private Taylor as they went along.

The first target popped up; just a plain human shaped target, and Taylor missed entirely. McMillan was swift with his pistol (His main weapon had been given to Taylor to hold) and downed the target with two shots. He then gave a death glare to the back of the Privates head. After a minute Taylor un-jammed his rifle and the squad started moving again. Some of the stretcher bearers were starting to complain about the strain on their arms, now. Maybe McMillan would let some of them switch with the injured men for a while. James doubted it.
After about ten yards, the second target popped up. Again, Taylor missed with the first shot, but his fear of the Sergeant let him quickly pull back the bolt and he hit nearly exactly in the center of the rings on the target, with his second shot. James started walking again.

[Edward"Butcher"McMillan]

McMillan holstered his pistol and bent his knees, not his back as he picked up the stretcher, all the while keeping his gaze set on Private Taylor. Taylor must have felt it because he didn't turn around, just unjammed his bolt and set off back through the trench. Yet again as a target popped up, Taylor missed but corrected himself quickly and fired a second shot that dropped the target. McMillan almost smiled but knew they had a long way to go before they became an adequate fighting unit.

As they continued on McMillan noticed that there was an easier way to do this and have more men able to fire. He didn't have enough pride to continue on ineffectively. He had looked over to the next trench and saw that the Lieutenant was using a better method. He was able to see because the trenches had yet to become to high as to not see out, but almost. "Alright guys, I can tell when my ideas aren't the best and am not afraid to admit it. Follow the great example the Lieutenant has offered up and let's put more lead down range! Take the initiative to swap out with one another, you and I both know that it's going to be a long day, no point in becoming exhausted and coming back later on." McMillan set the stretcher down in unison with the man at the other end of it and grabbed up the "wounded" man. "I've seen combat before private, take up your rifle and try to preform better than Taylor here." He didn't say it loud enough for all to hear, but enough of them should.

As they made it to a bend in the trench he noticed that they needed to negotiate a new obstacle. There was a make shift river and a board laying across it. McMillan thought for a second, there was also a pipe running over head. McMillan jumped up and grabbed the pipe and hung there for a moment to check it's strength then he dropped back to the mud. "Alright men, take off your belts and those of the wounded as well, wounded men don't help, let's try to do this as if it were real." He was hoping to have enough to fashion a harness with enough left to be able to pull it from side to side along the pipe. "Taylor, you and another private head over to the other side to cover our maneuver." It wasn't but maybe fifteen or sixteen feet across, they should be able to get that far on a board without losing their balance.