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Message: <blockquote data-quote="The Shaman" data-source="post: 2325970" data-attributes="member: 26473">“You know sir, I joined the Legion under false beliefs.  I really thought if I got wounded, I'd get to flirt with the nurse, but all we have is Fortin, and he ain't that cute, sir.”Lavareaux smiles through the pain. “I was in the 1er REC in Indochina – Alligator driver, LVT, you know what I’m talking about? Amphibious personnel carrier.” He shifts position slightly, grimacing with discomfort. “We were on this operation in the Delta and my vehicle got hit as we climbed out of a rice paddy. Bazooka rocket. Tore up the underside. I took splinters in the legs, then got hit by mortar fragments after I got out.” He snorts. “Another day like today. Anyway, I was in the hospital in Hanoi for a month, and after that I was living in barracks while I was rehabilitating, before returning to my escadron. I had this congais, Vietnamese girl, who took care of me.”Again a small smile creases the Picard’s long face. “Trinh. Long black hair, soft skin. Smelled clean – a lot of viets smelled like a latrine, but not Trinh.”The caporal-chef glances toward Marcel, then resumes scanning the desert for movement. “Fortier is not a fair trade. Still glad he’s here, though.” He shoots a look at Normand. “And Mador, save the ‘sirs’ for the sergents and the officers.”____Kneeling down to check the pulses of the two legionnaires, Marcel is relieved to see Dinter’s eyes flutter open. “Fortier.” He gives a crooked grin. “I’m hit low. I think Martinez is dead.” His eyes close again.Quickly checking the Moroccan’s pulse and finding nothing, Marcel notes two bullet holes in Martinez’s back as he rolls the body off Dinter’s legs. The medic looks into his eyes – the pupils are fixed and dilated and his face is flushed from pooled blood. Martinez is gone.Turning back to the German legionnaire, at first it’s hard to tell where Dinter has been hit – the back of his jump smock is covered with blood, possibly a mixture of Martinez’s and his own.  Cutting away the fabric he finds a bullet hole just above the lower arch of his ribs – it occurs to Marcel that this slug may have passed through Martinez before stopping in Dinter.The German legionnaire opens his eyes again. “My legs. I think I’m shot through the legs.”Marcel continues his assessment, working his way down to Dinter’s thighs, and finds the wound. Or wounds. Slicing away at the legionnaire’s trousers, Marcel see that the bullet passed through the back of Dinter’s right leg and continued through the quadriceps of his left, taking a goodly piece of meat with it.</blockquote>

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