Wing and Sword: Life During Wartime

[The Shaman]

The stranger shakes Marcel’s hand with a firm grip – his hands are rough and scarred. “Burhan Pamuk. First Legion paras. You are joining Third Company?” he asks.

 

[Bobitron]

"Looks like! Third Company, under Capitaine Martini, that's what the orders say." Marcel sighs, then continues with a wide smile. "Oh well. All that time in the brothel was getting old, anyhow."

"We did see Sergeant Duval, Dinter, Neumann and Lavareux at Maillot," he says to Marcel. "I'm actually surprised not to see Neumann here, but Duval and Lavareaux needed more time to recuperate, and I expect Dinter met the fate Mador and I avoided by making it to the last of the jump training for awhile."

"I'm glad to hear they are safe, regardless. I wish they could be here, but the fate of the soldier is to follow orders, I suppose. It will take a tough fils de pute to live up to what Duval did at the fight. Merde, he was a tough bastard."

 

[Barak]

"Hey, what's that all about? Pyotr did a great job last time."

Normand looks at Marcel, and shakes his head.

"Well yeah, I suppose, for a russkie." Keeping his eyes on the doc, he continues. "I was kidding, Marcel."

Looking at Vidal, but speaking to the others, he goes on.

"And yeah, we sorta had to fudge a couple things to make it back here, but we'd appreciate if it went unmentioned."

 

[Bobitron]

"And yeah, we sorta had to fudge a couple things to make it back here, but we'd appreciate if it went unmentioned."

"Never leaves this truck, Normand," Marcel says solemnly.

 

[shadowbloodmoon]

Pyotr held a slight smile at Normand's comment. When he finished explaining to Marcel that he was just joking, Pyotr spoke up. "Besides guys, he's not technically Russian, he's Turkish. Of course by that logic, I'm not Russian either, but you get my point." He trails off as he extends his own hand to the man. "Pyotr Kerenin, unsung sniper." He then grins at Normand.

Returning his gaze to Burhan, he continues. "Don't mind them, they haven't figured out the difference between 'duck' and 'shooting gallery duck' yet either."

Smiling, more to himself than anyone else, he sat back against the rumbling truck wall. This was a great bunch of guys he had gotten to know. He hoped that when he was granted citizenship in France, he wouldn't lose touch with them.

 

[The Shaman]

The legionnaire nods at Pyotr as he shakes hands. “Burhan.” He downs the last of his beverage in a swift gulp and returns the Thermos to his rucksack. From a pocket on his tunic the Turk removes a cloth bag and what looks like a small leather envelope – from the envelope he produces a thin paper, from the sack thick-cut tobacco, and he skillfully rolls a cigarette which he lights with a wooden match. The smoke is dense and strong.

 

[Bobitron]

From a pocket on his tunic the Turk removes a cloth bag and what looks like a small leather envelope – from the envelope he produces a thin paper, from the sack thick-cut tobacco, and he skillfully rolls a cigarette which he lights with a wooden match. The smoke is dense and strong.

"Hmm. It's been a good five minutes since I last smoked," Marcel said jokingly. He pulls it the trademark blue package with the winged helmet and lights a Gauloise inhaling deeply.


"Anyone know what the plan is once we get to Portemonte? I haven't heard anything about what Third Company is up to these days."

ooc: Is the correct word in this case Gauloises or Gauloise?

 

[Barak]

Still happily smoking his cheap cigar, Normand shrugs.

"Hey, I didn't even know we had joined third company until a minute ago. I'm sure they'll let us know when they figure we need to know. Might even be before we get fired upon, if we're lucky."

ooc:The last 's' denotes plural, so it would be gauloise in this case.

 

[Bobitron]

"Might even be before we get fired upon, if we're lucky."

Marcel laughs openly at Normand's joke. "Are you telling me we might be sent into the field prepared for being shot at? Ciel interdit! I've never know the military to be so intelligent."

 

[знаток]

Vidal chuckles at the jokes as he takes a seat next to Pyotr. "Anyone know how long this ride is supposed to be? I don't mean to be unappreciative of the motorized transportation, but if I'm not flying, I'd prefer to be on my feet. These monsters make a fine target." He knows he's setting himself up for a crack or two at that, but the jokes aren't hurting anyone, and he's glad to contribute.

He reaches for one of his own generic cigarrettes and pauses, the rich smell of the Turk's smoke tempting him. "Say, Burhan, would you roll me one of those?"