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Message: <blockquote data-quote="The Shaman" data-source="post: 2359551" data-attributes="member: 26473">The captain accepts the orders without comment. “Légionnaire Fortier, you might be interested to know that the after-action report indicates sergent-chef Duval’s training section faced more than eighty ALN moudjahiddine, according to the RAV provided by the army air observer.” His finger taps one of the folders on his desk. “I’m not sure if you had a chance to look at a map, but that action took place about eighty kilometers southeast of where we are right now. The engagement is one of the reasons that the company was dispatched here to Portemonte.”He places his hands flat on the desk. “I’m Capitaine Martini, your company CO. Légionnaire Fortier, you are assigned to the headquarters platoon with the other medics – the first medic is caporal-chef Bestebreurtje, and you’ll report to him. The rest of you are assigned to sous-lieutenant Ramadier’s platoon – sergent Müller will be along shortly to take you to your quarters. Légionnaire Pamuk, I’m assigning you to Third Platoon as well – we replaced you in Fourth Platoon and your experience will needed in Third. Understood?”“Yes, sir,” Burhan answers immediately.The captain leans forward as he continues, “Third Company is an intervention unit. The sector troops and the gendarmerie are responsible for protecting the settlements. Our mission is to hunt down the ALN, to eliminate their capability to wage terror against Algerians. To that end we maintain law and order by military action, gather intelligence, maintain friendly relations with the population and the political leaders, and support civil and military administrators in their functions. These are your standing orders at all times.”As the capitaine speaks the red-haired caporal-chef returns, accompanied by a blond legionnaire wearing sergent’s stripes. “The company has been in action here in Algeria since the spring. Listen to your sous-officiers. Learn from their experiences. Many of them saw action in Indochina, and some were veterans even before that, correct, sergent?” He looks up at the blond non-com, who replies with a smile, “Oui, mon capitaine.”The captain stands and addresses you, his face grave. “As a legionnaire of the 1st REP, you will wear the yellow-and-green fourragère of the Médaille Militaire on your parade uniform, France’s highest military decoration. The fourragère represents the four combat unit citations received by the regiment. The men of the First are among the most decorated in the history of the Legion. Many of those decorations were earned posthumously, in Indochina, on the road to Cao Bang, at Dien Bien Phu, and now in Algeria. It falls to you to venerate their memory and to maintain the honor of the regiment and the Legion by your conduct.”Captain Martini looks intently at each man. “That is all.”The blond sergeant snaps, “Attention!” Boots slap together, hands are quickly raised in salute. The capitaine returns the salute. “Gaston, show Fortier to the aid tent. Sergent Müller, first section. Dismissed.” He sits down behind his desk and returns his attention to his paperwork.Grabbing gear, the legionnaires are lead into the night by the two sous-officiers.Marcel...[sblock]The caporal-chef introduces himself almost immediately. “I’m Gaston Vieux, the company clerk.” His accent unmistakably puts him from somewhere in northwestern France. “Your foot lockers will arrive in next day or two with our supply convoy. We can get you a clean uniform tomorrow if you need it.” He stops before a large tent with a red cross pinned over the flap – a lantern is burning inside. “Dutch should be inside – check in with him. Good night.”Through the flap is a small infirmary – a half-dozen cots, all empty at the moment, a couple of storage cabinets, a gurney, a wheelchair, a pair of canvas stretcher leaning against a wall. The tent is partitioned about two thirds of the way down its length, and the light is shining from the space beyond. Passing through the partition, Marcel sees three bunks and a table along with more cabinets filled with medical supplies. On one of the bunks is a legionnaire, still in his uniform, snoring softly on top of his blankets. Seated at the table is a man in a tee-shirt and skivvies – he appears to be writing a letter. He looks up as Marcel enters. “Who the devil are you, and what do you want?” he asks impatiently.[/sblock]Normand, Pyotr, and Vidal...[sblock]The blonde sous-officier motions for the legionnaires to follow. “Broke a captain’s leg the first week at Arzew, eh?” he asks Burhan mirthfully as they walk. His French carries a noticeable German accent.Burhan shakes his head. “He broke his arm. He fell.”The Geman sergent looks at Burhan. “He fell when you knocked him down with your rifle, yes?” The Turk shrugs his shoulders and says nothing.The sergeant glances at the rest of the legionnaires. “I’m sergent Müller, platoon sergeant. You’ll be assigned to first section – your section leader is sergent Katsourianis. All four of you will be assigned to the choc group.” He taps Burhan on the shoulder, points to the next row of tents over. “Fourth Platoon is over there. You can stop by in the morning.” He stops at one of the tents, pulls back the flap. “Kat, your new boots are here.”Entering the tent, the legionnaires see a double row of cots running along the canvas walls, ten in all. Legionnaires are scattered around the room – one is listening to a transistor radio through an earpiece, another reads what appears to be a bible printed in a Scandinavian language. One legionnaire is adding polish to a pair of jump boots – another appears to be writing a letter. One is stretched out on his cot, sound asleep despite the light and the noise. As you enter, a curly-haired legionnaire with a thin mustache stands up from where he was seated on one of the bunks. He has a tiger tattooed on his left forearm, a banner that reads “LEGIO PATRIA NOSTRA” on his right. A red scar is visible above his right eye.“I’m sergent Katsourianis,” he says. “If that’s too much for you, I’ll answer to sergent Kat.” He points to a black legionnaire seated on the same bunk. “That’s caporal Sembène, my second – he answers to ‘Babaye’.” The black legionnaire smiles.Katrourianis points at different legionnaires as he speaks. “The guy with the radio is Ortu. That’s Syrovy – ” the legionnaire writing the letter, a thin blonde man “ – Asmussen – ” the legionnaire with the bible “ – Nedjar – ” polishing his boots, he nods at the newcomers “ – and that body over there is Sanchez.”He gestures toward the five empty bunks around the room. “You can take any one of those. Your footlockers will be here in the next day or two, with our supply train. If you need a clean uniform, we can get that, otherwise borrow from these guys until then. In the meantime get situated as best you can.”Ortu, a husky young man with a gold catholic medal hanging around his neck and tattoos covering both arms below the sleeve of his tee-shirt, says “Hey, Pamuk, Fourth Platoon is over there somewhere.”Burhan shrugs. “Le Capitaine put me here now.”Sembène speaks up. “He’s taking your spot, Ortu, so you can drive a truck instead of a machine gun.” Ortu shakes his head and reaches for a magazine under his bunk.Nedjar, the legionnaire with the boot polish in hand, looks at the new arrivals with interest. “Are these the guys, sergent? Are you the guys? From the training jump?”[/sblock]Please respond using either {spoiler} tags or {sblock} tags, replacing the braces with brackets of course – obviously Barak, Shadow, and знаток can read each other’s posts.</blockquote>

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