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Wing and Sword: Life During Wartime
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<blockquote data-quote="The Shaman" data-source="post: 2544974" data-attributes="member: 26473"><p>The MAT-49 jerks in Pyotr’s hands, and the man drops the shotgun – hands clutching at his throat, blood seeping through his fingers, he sinks to the floor beside the wall, eyes staring blankly at the two paras. Vidal swings the barrel of his own weapon down the length of the room, his gaze probing the shadows.</p><p></p><p>The interior of the brick building is one long room – to the left is a table and chairs, a wood stove with a stack of cut fuel nearby, a sink, and an icebox, to the right a double-row of blanket-draped beds, each with its own storage trunk and nightstand, and another wood stove. On a shelf over the sink, along with several tins of Samar coffee, is a transistor radio, a cord stretching out a window at the rear of the building.</p><p></p><p>Vidal spots movement in the southeast corner – a man, sitting on the floor, crowded back against the walls with his knees drawn up to his chest. He locks eyes with Vidal and throws his arms straight in the air, crying, <span style="color: sienna">“Please, don’t shoot!”</span></p><p></p><p>Marcel quickly rubs his knuckles across the African’s sternum, and Babaye stirs slightly then opens his eyes, blinking several times. <span style="color: sienna">“<em>Mon Dieu</em>,”</span> he gasps weakly, then grimaces. <span style="color: sienna">“Am I going to die?”</span> he asks between clenched teeth.</p><p></p><p>Around the farmhouse the gunfire and explosions have stopped. From the dining room smoke and dust billow through shattered windows and into the hallway where the legionnaires crouch. Sgt. Müller keeps watch through the haze as Sgt. Katsourianis checks over Normand. <span style="color: sienna">“Babaye’s hit, Kat – doc is with him,”</span> Müller tells the Greek <em>sergent</em>. Katsourianis registers the comment with a nod and scowl.</p><p></p><p><span style="color: sienna">“David and the replacements killed one, and they were taking more fire from that brick house on the right,”</span> answers the Greek, carefully opening Normand’s smock. <span style="color: sienna">“Ortu is covering the stable with Sánchez. How bad is Babaye? We need the doc for this one.”</span> He pats Normand on the thigh, carefully. <span style="color: sienna">“Hold on, <em>légionnaire</em>, and we’ll get you some real help.”</span></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="The Shaman, post: 2544974, member: 26473"] The MAT-49 jerks in Pyotr’s hands, and the man drops the shotgun – hands clutching at his throat, blood seeping through his fingers, he sinks to the floor beside the wall, eyes staring blankly at the two paras. Vidal swings the barrel of his own weapon down the length of the room, his gaze probing the shadows. The interior of the brick building is one long room – to the left is a table and chairs, a wood stove with a stack of cut fuel nearby, a sink, and an icebox, to the right a double-row of blanket-draped beds, each with its own storage trunk and nightstand, and another wood stove. On a shelf over the sink, along with several tins of Samar coffee, is a transistor radio, a cord stretching out a window at the rear of the building. Vidal spots movement in the southeast corner – a man, sitting on the floor, crowded back against the walls with his knees drawn up to his chest. He locks eyes with Vidal and throws his arms straight in the air, crying, [color=sienna]“Please, don’t shoot!”[/color] Marcel quickly rubs his knuckles across the African’s sternum, and Babaye stirs slightly then opens his eyes, blinking several times. [color=sienna]“[i]Mon Dieu[/i],”[/color] he gasps weakly, then grimaces. [color=sienna]“Am I going to die?”[/color] he asks between clenched teeth. Around the farmhouse the gunfire and explosions have stopped. From the dining room smoke and dust billow through shattered windows and into the hallway where the legionnaires crouch. Sgt. Müller keeps watch through the haze as Sgt. Katsourianis checks over Normand. [color=sienna]“Babaye’s hit, Kat – doc is with him,”[/color] Müller tells the Greek [i]sergent[/i]. Katsourianis registers the comment with a nod and scowl. [color=sienna]“David and the replacements killed one, and they were taking more fire from that brick house on the right,”[/color] answers the Greek, carefully opening Normand’s smock. [color=sienna]“Ortu is covering the stable with Sánchez. How bad is Babaye? We need the doc for this one.”[/color] He pats Normand on the thigh, carefully. [color=sienna]“Hold on, [i]légionnaire[/i], and we’ll get you some real help.”[/color] [/QUOTE]
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