Post by nightenhawk00 on Dec 6, 2012 15:04:53 GMT
Country: England
Current Time: 0550 HRS
Weather Conditions: Early morning cold, day is to warm up.
The dark canvas ceiling was staring down at David. He was siting in front of his desk, looking up at the ceiling with a very dissatisfied look. Well, what could he say, it was five o'clock in the morning, and he was awake far earlier than anyone else. The light from his flashlight that sat on his desk gave off a yellow glow, carrying an early morning vibe. The flashlight was laying flat on the desk, pointing across a number of papers. Many of the papers that looked to be strewn about were all typed up and looked the same. They were all papers for the military. David had no trouble writing when he was working on these reports, but he was having far more trouble on the blank piece of paper that sat before him.
In the top left corner, his handwriting could be seen in black ink. The writing was in a semi-cursive look, but very artistic. There, one could read, "Dear Abigail." It was a letter he was writing to his wife, and he had no idea what to put down. He had been in the same staging area for two weeks now, and he had sent home about three letters, all saying the exact same thing. They all spoke of his want to go back out to the front line so he could bring the war to a close by beating the Germans.
It also didn't help that he had become more and more sleep deprived while he was here in the reserves, back in England. He couldn't help but not like it. He had spent time in combat before, and he felt a lot better about being killed by an enemy's bullet than by some bomb dropped from a plane. He did not feel safe being in the so-called safe zone. Every morning he would wake to the same nightmare he had every night in this base. He saw the very planes that he feared killing him dropping bombs on the camp he was forced to stay in. Following his instinct, he would run for cover, trying to get away from the areas that would be bombed, and being an officer, he would try to get other people to cover first. After all, he had to look out for his boys. While he would be directing men, he would see a plane fly overhead, and see the bomb it dropped falling straight for him. Unable to move, the bomb hit, killing him.
With that he would wake up. He would be sweating heavily, only to find that he was still alive. It only took David two days to realize what was happening, so he quickly did what he could and tried to stay awake. He didn't want to see that nightmare again. At least I'm not screaming in my sleep...yet, he thought, keeping his gaze on the ceiling.
A loud snore erupted from one of the bunks behind David, causing him to spin around to know what caused the noise. His eyes focused through the mainly dark tent and saw one of his fellow officers, fully asleep and at peace with the world. Lucky man..., David commented to himself, not wanting to start speaking aloud and waking up the rest of his tent mates.
Turning back around, he looked at the letter that sat before him. What to write. This was the most puzzling item that David ever had to deal with. Normally he would just write, and who knows what got taken out of his letters before they reached his wife. This time however, he could not think of anything to write about. He was completely blank. He was also starting to get tired again, so to save himself from the horror he knew he would wake up to, David started doing his morning calisthenics. He didn't do the full run down, but he did enough to wake himself up with.
After finishing his first exercise, David started to fully clothe himself in the proper attire befitting an officer of the United States Army. First to appear was the semi-dress uniform all officers were supposed to wear. David had this on and was tying his tie within two minutes. It had become routine for him. The final thing he did was throw on a coat to keep off the morning chill. Then, before his tent mates had woken up, he was gone, through the door. Only one thing had gotten to his mind now, and that was to get started with his day, and the first start of the day for him was breakfast.
Outside his somewhat warm tent, David was keeping his hands in his pockets and kept his body tucked together as he made the cold march to the mess tent. There was only one mess tent in this part of the camp, and both officers and enlisted men could eat together, just the way David liked it. Because he had risen through the ranks over his nearly ten years in the service, he was very attached to both parts of the the machine that was the U.S. Army.
When he entered the mess tent, he saw that there were a few other soldiers who had woken up early, wanting to eat their breakfast before the time came for them to get started on the number of drills they would be forced to go through. David entered, and walked straight to the beginning of the serving line. No one else was in front of him, so after picking up a tray, he walked down the well used path and stared at the food.
The first thing he noticed was that the food was all the same. It may not have been the same, but it sure looked like it was. Another note, was the fact that this food was the exact same food that had been served the previous day. David simply waved off the food, leaving the tray where it was, hoping that someone else was going to use it. He went to the most important item that was at the end of the line, the coffee.
David grabbed a cup and quickly filled it with a murky brown liquid, that how it resembled coffee, he had no idea. No matter how disgusting the so-called coffee was, every man would drink it because it gave them warmth, not only from the actual temperature, but because it would remind them of how much they rather be home. With his coffee in hand, David went to a table and sat down, taking out the folded piece of paper that was to be the letter to his wife. He set it down on the table and pulled out a pen, hoping that in this new place, he could find something better to write to her about.
Maybe something interesting could happen? He thought while he took a sip of the hot liquid.
Current Time: 0550 HRS
Weather Conditions: Early morning cold, day is to warm up.
The dark canvas ceiling was staring down at David. He was siting in front of his desk, looking up at the ceiling with a very dissatisfied look. Well, what could he say, it was five o'clock in the morning, and he was awake far earlier than anyone else. The light from his flashlight that sat on his desk gave off a yellow glow, carrying an early morning vibe. The flashlight was laying flat on the desk, pointing across a number of papers. Many of the papers that looked to be strewn about were all typed up and looked the same. They were all papers for the military. David had no trouble writing when he was working on these reports, but he was having far more trouble on the blank piece of paper that sat before him.
In the top left corner, his handwriting could be seen in black ink. The writing was in a semi-cursive look, but very artistic. There, one could read, "Dear Abigail." It was a letter he was writing to his wife, and he had no idea what to put down. He had been in the same staging area for two weeks now, and he had sent home about three letters, all saying the exact same thing. They all spoke of his want to go back out to the front line so he could bring the war to a close by beating the Germans.
It also didn't help that he had become more and more sleep deprived while he was here in the reserves, back in England. He couldn't help but not like it. He had spent time in combat before, and he felt a lot better about being killed by an enemy's bullet than by some bomb dropped from a plane. He did not feel safe being in the so-called safe zone. Every morning he would wake to the same nightmare he had every night in this base. He saw the very planes that he feared killing him dropping bombs on the camp he was forced to stay in. Following his instinct, he would run for cover, trying to get away from the areas that would be bombed, and being an officer, he would try to get other people to cover first. After all, he had to look out for his boys. While he would be directing men, he would see a plane fly overhead, and see the bomb it dropped falling straight for him. Unable to move, the bomb hit, killing him.
With that he would wake up. He would be sweating heavily, only to find that he was still alive. It only took David two days to realize what was happening, so he quickly did what he could and tried to stay awake. He didn't want to see that nightmare again. At least I'm not screaming in my sleep...yet, he thought, keeping his gaze on the ceiling.
A loud snore erupted from one of the bunks behind David, causing him to spin around to know what caused the noise. His eyes focused through the mainly dark tent and saw one of his fellow officers, fully asleep and at peace with the world. Lucky man..., David commented to himself, not wanting to start speaking aloud and waking up the rest of his tent mates.
Turning back around, he looked at the letter that sat before him. What to write. This was the most puzzling item that David ever had to deal with. Normally he would just write, and who knows what got taken out of his letters before they reached his wife. This time however, he could not think of anything to write about. He was completely blank. He was also starting to get tired again, so to save himself from the horror he knew he would wake up to, David started doing his morning calisthenics. He didn't do the full run down, but he did enough to wake himself up with.
After finishing his first exercise, David started to fully clothe himself in the proper attire befitting an officer of the United States Army. First to appear was the semi-dress uniform all officers were supposed to wear. David had this on and was tying his tie within two minutes. It had become routine for him. The final thing he did was throw on a coat to keep off the morning chill. Then, before his tent mates had woken up, he was gone, through the door. Only one thing had gotten to his mind now, and that was to get started with his day, and the first start of the day for him was breakfast.
Outside his somewhat warm tent, David was keeping his hands in his pockets and kept his body tucked together as he made the cold march to the mess tent. There was only one mess tent in this part of the camp, and both officers and enlisted men could eat together, just the way David liked it. Because he had risen through the ranks over his nearly ten years in the service, he was very attached to both parts of the the machine that was the U.S. Army.
When he entered the mess tent, he saw that there were a few other soldiers who had woken up early, wanting to eat their breakfast before the time came for them to get started on the number of drills they would be forced to go through. David entered, and walked straight to the beginning of the serving line. No one else was in front of him, so after picking up a tray, he walked down the well used path and stared at the food.
The first thing he noticed was that the food was all the same. It may not have been the same, but it sure looked like it was. Another note, was the fact that this food was the exact same food that had been served the previous day. David simply waved off the food, leaving the tray where it was, hoping that someone else was going to use it. He went to the most important item that was at the end of the line, the coffee.
David grabbed a cup and quickly filled it with a murky brown liquid, that how it resembled coffee, he had no idea. No matter how disgusting the so-called coffee was, every man would drink it because it gave them warmth, not only from the actual temperature, but because it would remind them of how much they rather be home. With his coffee in hand, David went to a table and sat down, taking out the folded piece of paper that was to be the letter to his wife. He set it down on the table and pulled out a pen, hoping that in this new place, he could find something better to write to her about.
Maybe something interesting could happen? He thought while he took a sip of the hot liquid.