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Post by Furey "Blondie" Campellone on Mar 12, 2010 11:19:45 GMT -5
On Behalf of the 9th Air Force Commanding officer, we formally invite All allied soldiers of the local area including the 101st Airborne, and 1st Armored Division, to a spectacular party to celebrate the recent victories on all fronts, and our current winning of the war. [/b][/size] We request that all visiting soldiers be on their best behavior, and be in their dress uniforms, for there will be a few members of the brass visiting, including Air Marshal Wavell. There will be a few groups coming to entertain the men and the brass, including the following: - The Two Leslies
- George Formby
- The Andrews Sisters
- Bing Crosby
- Tommy Dorsey (Possibly)
- Vera Lynn (Possibly)
- Bette Davis
The Party shall be held at the former Von Luger Estate, 1942 Patois Lane, Calais France. My Initial Post Furey looked around, the mansion was beginning to look exquisite. He looked around and watched the many privates and soldiers of his Beloved 9th Air-force finish up the decorations, He could also smell the fine cuisine in the back rooms where a large kitchen had been set up. He looked around, and began to walk around, making sure that everything w2as right for Air Marshal Wavell. There was also a rumor that General Patton was coming to meet some of the men of the 1st Armor Division, whom were coming also. He looked around, and soon found a fellow pilot run over to him, saying "Sir, Some of the guests have been spotted entering the city, they should be here in about half an hour. " Furey Nodded, his arms cross behind his back as he slowly took a stroll around the palace. It was a rather fine place, which had seemed to be spared by the war itself. He looked around, the countless beautiful French paintings that had dotted the walls of the Palace were already claimed, in-fact most of the items in the house were claimed, including a beautiful Mercedes 770 That was left in the garage in the rapid flee, by Furey himself, but he had decided to keep them in the House for now, to impress his guests. He watched the final arrangements for the stage where the countless acts were to preform was being finished, and watched as the countless tables and chairs were perfectly placed. He looked around, watching countless soldiers, fellow pilots, and MP’s finishing up the final things that needed to be finished as Furey walked to an office he had taken over for his own personal use, an office away from the loudness and hostility of the Airfield. He took a seat in one of the fine lounge chairs, an sat there for a good Ten minutes, before a Captain walked in, excusing himself, and saying “Sir, the Guests are arriving.” “Hmm, a few early I see. No mater, I’ll go meet the guests. The soldiers of this sector deserve a good party, and the earlier they get here, the more time they have to enjoy it”. He looked around as he stood up, walking out of the office and down the long, countless hallways that were in the home, and nodded at a few of his fellow officers as he walked up to the large Mahogany double doors, an MP opening them both up, and he stood to the side of the door, watching Jeeps and Staff Cars begin to roll down the rather long driveway.
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Post by Harry Hamilton on Mar 12, 2010 13:03:38 GMT -5
Harry walked into the mansion, taking off his OD service cap and placing it under his arm. It was quite a place. He could smell gourmet food cooking in one of the kitchens in the back. Food, he thought longingly. He'd never really appreciated it before the war, but after fighting on K rations he was extremely grateful. Tonight he wouldn't sleep in a foxhole. Tonight he'd see Bing Crosby, Bette Davis, and other esteemed American entertainers. He was wearing his finely pressed OD dress uniform, complete with the new Eisenhower jacket. He'd shaven, and washed--things he couldn't do for days on end because of living in a foxhole. D-Day had been successful, and the Americans had liberated France. The French hailed Harry and the others as heroes. He didn't see himself as a hero. He was just lucky. He didn't even know what a hero was. The war had changed him, and all of his opinions on things. He didn't know what to think. You try to be heroic, and you'll get shot. You try to take on every single Kraut you find, and you'll get shot. Teamwork and awareness of the enemy were what made a soldier successful. But tonight wasn't the night for that. Tonight, Major Campellone of the 9th Air Force was throwing a party, and all the allied troops were invited. Harry had been looking forward to this for days. He'd had his newly-issued Eisenhower jacket pressed and had had new brass buttons sewn on. There was a rumor that Patton himself was going to attend. Harry had never seen a general, so naturally the youth was excited. He looked around the huge foyer, letting out a low whistle. Mahogany doors, expensive furniture, and beautiful paintings--it really was something. He had a special appreciation for the place because he wanted to become an architect after the war. That is if the government issued G.I. money. He hoped they did. After all, the war had taken up almost three years of his life--the best years of his life. It was then that Harry realized that he wasn't alone. He saw a man standing next to the door with a Major insignia. He stood at attention in a salute. "Sir!"
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Post by Wiktor Boguslaw on Mar 12, 2010 17:56:13 GMT -5
Wiktor found himself cruising down a road cutting across the French countryside. He was seated in the back of the staff car that was transporting him, driven by his loyal driver, James Darnel. Dressed in his best dress uniform, Wiktor glanced outside at the rolling plains and hills that were common in this area of France. He then looked down at the card in his hand. The sea blue and olive green card had been sent to him from the 9th Air force, specifically from Major Furey Campellone, commander of the 9th Air force. The card invited him to attend a party, a celebration for the recent liberation of France, and the near end of the war in Europe. The party itself would be held inside of a mansion taken from a German officer, however Wiktor could not recall the German’s name, and frankly he didn’t care. He was glad that he was invited though; it would be nice just to have one evening of fun. Even better than that, Wiktor had heard rumors that General Patton would be attending this party. Since Wiktor was the commander of the 1st Armored Division, meeting General Patton in person would be unbelievable to Wiktor. All of the stories that Wiktor heard told him that this man was one who could lead men and definitely someone he would like to be meet, and be honored in doing so.
An hour later Wiktor arrived inside the city where the mansion that the party was going to be held was located at. They drove around a bit, and his driver told him that he was showing Wiktor around the city, since he would probably be staying here for a day or two. Wiktor smiled at this remark, figuring that Darnel was really just lost, and was aimlessly driving about, hoping to find the estate. Wiktor didn’t mind, indeed this did give him a chance to view the city, and Wiktor wasn’t in any rush. Glancing down at his watch, Wiktor was surprised to find that he was actually a little early. Seeing this, he tapped the back of Darnel’s shoulder. “Darnel, we seem to be a little early. What do you say that we stop by one of these little French restaurants, and get ourselves a little pastry or something? It will be my treat.” Darnel replied in joyful voice, “why thank you sir, I would love that. How about that one over there?” Darnel pointed to the right, showing Wiktor a small, rustic looking restaurant. Wiktor smiled, “perfect.”
They parked the car next to the road, and stepped onto the paved sidewalk. Wiktor motioned for Darnel to go ahead and get inside. He followed Darnel as they entered through the wooden doors, stepping inside the interior of the restaurant. They took a seat next to the window, inside a red leathered booth. Pretty soon a waitress came over, stopping by their table and asking what they wanted. “I would like to have a Napoleon, with a cup of coffee please.” Darnel ordered the same thing, stating that a friend told him that Napoleon’s were quite good, and that he always wanted to try one. The waitress soon returned with their order, and they began eating. A little while later, they were both done with their small meal, and were both finishing up the last drops of coffee from their cups. Wiktor leaned back, letting the wonderful taste of his meal sink in. After a few minutes he beckoned to Darnel. “We probably should get going.” Darnel agreed and they stood up and walked out, not before Wiktor paid the waiter, and gave her quite a big tip.
Soon Wiktor was once again in his car, this time heading a little out of the city. Darnel had talked to a man outside of the restaurant before they left, so most likely he had asked for directions, and gotten them. Soon they were pulling up inside a dazzling estate, filled with trees, fountains, everything nice you could think of that would look good in a garden. The flowers were blooming everywhere; birds were chirping inside of their baths, it looked splendid. Wiktor was amazed, he had heard stories about how Polish monarchs lived in palaces like this, but had never actually seen one. Now he was stunned at the beauty. They drove up a paved road toward a large building that started coming into few behind the trees. The building was just as amazing.
The car stopped in front of a large stairway that led up into the front door of the large mansion. Wiktor walked out, breathing in the fresh air. The air seemed fresh and crisp, the flowers must have had some effect, and Wiktor was enjoying it. Wiktor walked over to Darnels window and knocked on it, and Darnel lowered it down. “Thank you Darnel, I’ll call you when I need a pickup. By the way, back earlier, I knew that you were lost, but don’t worry. I didn’t mind, and like you said, it gave us both a chance to see the city.” “Thank you sir, I am sorry about that, but I’m glad it wasn’t a problem. I hope you have a great time at the party.” Wiktor smiled, “and you have a good time too. Feel free to explore the city and have fun, just don’t get too drunk.” They both laughed at this remark, and then Darnel drove out of the estate, and back into the city. Wiktor stood there for a moment, and then turned to face the intimidating structure that was set before him.
Wiktor began walking up the stair, taking his time. Like before, he was in no rush, they had the whole evening, and no doubt this would drag into the night. While climbing the stairs, he continued to glance around, taking in every detail. The place seemed even grander while walking its grounds. At last Wiktor reached the top of the stairs and faced a short, broad path that led to the doors. Wiktor traversed this path quite quickly and then reached the large, polished ebony doors that marked the entrance into the main structure of this estate. Some people were already heading inside, a few early comers like Wiktor. It was true that even after stopping to eat at the restaurant, he was still early. But this is why Wiktor enjoyed Darnel as his driver; he always made it early, giving Wiktor plenty of breathing room between events.
Wiktor stepped through the large doors, finding himself in a large hall, adorned by paintings, sculptures, and pretty much every expensive and pristine piece of furniture you could imagine. Wiktor proceeded to glance around, in as much awe as he was with the outside. This place seemed as if it was made by god, for god. Wiktor couldn’t imagine how someone could make such a place. He glanced back downward, and saw the man he was looking for. In front of him was Major Furey Campellone, the organizer and head of this party. Wiktor walked across toward him, and another man that seemed to be saluting toward the Major. Wiktor soon placed himself in front of Furey extending out his hand. “Furey, good to see you again. Thank you for inviting me to this party, this place is amazing!”
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Post by Furey "Blondie" Campellone on Mar 12, 2010 21:22:11 GMT -5
Furey stood at the front of the door, soon growing rather bored of just randomly standing there, watching the wind blow by on the tops of the trees. He soon found himself watching an olive staff car with a bright, white star on it roll up to the front of the palace, and a rather familiar man named Arthur Askey. He was rather surprised, although he expected many an entertainer to be coming to this party, Arthur Askey, while invited, unfortunately did not accept, he apparently had another show for the soldiers in a British unit.
He smiled, he was rather overjoyed that Arthur Askey was coming to His party. He was one of Furey’s favorite singers, his favorite songs included “Busy Bee”, and “Siegfried Line”. He greeted Arthur warmly as he walked up the large, granite stairs of the Mansion, and when Arthur stood in-front of him, Furey said “I’m overjoyed to see you here, Mr. Askey! I thought that you would not be able to make it!”
Arthur smiled, and then said “Well, Major, I wasn’t supposed to be able to make it, but unfortunately the British unit I was supposed to was….. Well... ambushed, by an entire German SS Division, it was wiped out.”
Furey nodded, his happy mood was somewhat dimmed by this thought, but he looked up at Arthur, and said “Well, it’s rather unfortunate that this war kills too many young men.”
Arthur nodded, looking down at the ground through his thick, blacked framed glasses, before looking back up, and smiled, saying “I mustn’t keep you busy, you have more guests to meet! I will find one of your fellow soldiers to direct me to that dressing room Bing and George told me about, maybe Bette will be in there, I here she’s looking better than ever!”
Furey smiled, waving at Arthur as he walked down the long hallway, grabbing another soldier’s attention and was directed towards the dressing room. Furey soon founds himself walking down the same hallway, and stopped about halfway down, crossing his arms as he looked around at the palace, it truly was magnificent.
He soon heard another set of feet begin to walk down the hallway, and as soon as he turned around, he received a salute from a Sergeant, and saluted back, saying “Welcome to the Party, You are Sergeant, Harry Hamilton I presume?” He had read about many of the people that were coming in their files, surprisingly the Air-Force kept up-to-date records on not only Air-Force personnel, but soldiers of other divisions also. Before he could strike up a conversation with the man, another man, a man that he had met on the battlefield when he was a lowly First Sergeant, Wiktor Boguslaw, walked up, saluting him as he did so.
Furey returned the salute, greeting Wiktor with a hardy handshake, and said “Its great to see you again too, Wiktor. And yes, this is a rather beautiful place, im trying to claim it as a war spoil, since the owner of it was found dead near-by. I just have to find the damn deed, then its mine! It’ll be hell to have to send back in pieces, though”. He got a good chuckle out of this, and soon found himself crossing his arms again. He was rather bored, but soon found pleasure in giving the two men a tour of the beautiful mansion.
He soon found himself doing exactly that, showing the two men the beautiful aspects of a mansion he soon hoped would be his, and he would get to bring his grandparents, whom currently lived in a nice sized home in the state of New Jersey, here, back to Europe, to a home he didn’t doubt they wouldn’t be able to fathom the amount of beauty it contained.
After a few moments of pointing out rather lavish items of the mansion, the many aspects and the history that he dug up on it, he soon found himself introducing the men to the one and Only Bing Crosby, whom said, with his normal, deep voice, “Its great to see you Furey, I don’t doubt this will be another great party, if its anything like the ones you’ve held before!”
Furey nodded, and after a moment, he soon found Bing making his get-away, most of the entertainers seemed to be rather busy. He soon found himself, and the other two men, being approached by an Air-Core Captain, whom saluted, then said “Sir, most of the guests are now arriving, and Mr. Formby is about to begin his show, and Air Marshal Wavell has just arrived.”
Furey nodded, waving the Captain off, then looked at the two men, and said “Well, I believe that I must make my get-away and meet up with the Air-Marshal, I will see you two at our table sometime tonight!”
He soon made his get-away, traveling down the hallway to greet the British Air-Marshal.
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Post by Harry Hamilton on Mar 12, 2010 22:40:33 GMT -5
"Yes, I'm Sergeant Hamilton. Thank you for inviting me, sir." Harry replied to Major Campellone gratefully. It was very kind of the highly decorated officer to think of inviting the enlisted men like himself. He watched as the Major saluted another man, at first not knowing that he was his CO. The other man seemed to be a 2nd Lieutenant. He saluted him nonetheless, as was expected for a soldier to do in the presence of an officer--even if it was a social gathering. When Campellone called him Wiktor, he then realized that the man was 2nd Lieutenant Boguslaw, his commanding officer. He had yet to meet him, as he had just been transferred to his outfit. Campellone then guided them on a tour of the mansion. It was magnificent. The chateau was almost like a royal palace to Harry. It was as if he stepped into the pages of a storybook and was walking around in a fairy-tale castle. He had to conclude that France in general was a beautiful place. He'd wished that he had visited the country under different circumstances, but he treasured the experience nevertheless. He listened attentively as Campellone explained some of the finer details of the mansion, including its rich history. History had always fascinated Harry. His speciality was American history, but ever since he arrived, he'd been learning a lot about the French culture. He came to admire their art and their architecture. The only thing he didn't admire was their language--which he couldn't speak or understand a word of. At one point during the tour, a deep voice interrupted Campellone's explanation. I know that voice. He'd heard it watching the beautiful Ginger Rogers's movies at the Bijou. It was Bing Crosby! The Bing Crosby! He was actually in a thirty-mile radius of a movie star! That was the next best thing to meeting Joe DiMaggio. And from the way he addressed Campellone, they knew each other. Soon, Bing left, and Harry's schoolboy attitude died down. Campellone also excused himself, so Harry was left alone with Lieutenant Boguslaw. "Sir, am I right in assuming that you're Lieutenant Boguslaw of the 1st Armoured Division? I was just transferred into the unit, and I don't believe we've formally met."
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Post by Wiktor Boguslaw on Mar 23, 2010 15:59:20 GMT -5
Furey and Wiktor greeted each other; apparently Furey still knew who Wiktor was, even though he had only met Wiktor when he was still a 1st Sergeant. Now he had grown to a major so fast, he even outranked Wiktor now. Wiktor smiled as Furey explained how he was going to try to find the deed to this house. “Well, that would be certainly something spectacular. If you get this place, I have to visit three times a week!”
Soon Furey was showing them, Wiktor and another soldier that was already talking to the major, around the mansion, showing some of the more exquisite and pristine parts of it. Wiktor’s breath was taken away, the place was even more magnificent then he imagined. He was enjoying himself, and Furey’s tour guide attitude made it even better. Soon however, they were approached by a man that was quite familiar to Wiktor, and made the unknown soldier next to him burst out in grin. He approached Furey, and they greeted each other, as if they were old friends. Furey then introduced the man to the soldier and Wiktor, the man was apparently Bing Crosby, the famous American entertainer. Wiktor was never one for American entertainment, still favoring the classical Polish style that he grew up with, but Bing Crosby was definitely someone that Wiktor was happy of meeting.
They talked a bit, but then Crosby had to leave. All the entertainers that were hired were as busy as bee’s, barely having any time to drink even a simple glass of water, let alone enjoy a nice conversation with some men. Furey stayed behind, but eventually he even made his quite get away, leaving Wiktor alone with the soldier that Wiktor had still not formally met. The reason that Furey left was that soon after Crosby bid his farewell, a Captain of the 9th Air force arrived, saluting Furey and informing him that Air Marshal Wavell was here. At first Wiktor couldn’t believe his ears, an important air marshal was here at the party, and it sounded as if he was here specifically for Furey. Either way however, the Major did leave to go great this prestige’s guest.
Wiktor stood there for a moment, just glancing around the area, taking note of the people that were slowly coming in, ever so increasing the occupants of this mansion, and increasing the checks on the guest list. It seemed as if tonight would definitely be a full house, making the party even better. Music began to fill the air, sending a sort of electric charge through the air, as people began to dance and get into a “party” sort of mood. Butlers began filing out, bearing silver platters adorned on top by champagne glasses filled with fresh French champagne, or choice selections of cheese, fruits, and any other type of food you could imagine. The party definitely was starting to kick in, and people were adapting to it.
Soon the soldier next to him, which was quite forgotten for a time by Wiktor, inquired if he was indeed 2nd Lieutenant Boguslaw of the 1st Armored. This snapped Wiktor’s attention back into focus on the here and now of the world. He turned to face the soldier next to him, and began taking in a few details. By the rank insignia he appeared to be a sergeant, and by the division insignia, he actually noted that he bore the insignia of the 1st Armored. However, Wiktor had never met this soldier. Wiktor concluded that this man must have been recently transferred, and had they not met at this party, he would have soon met him at his arrival back at base.
The soldier verified this by adding that he was recently transferred to the division, showing that this was their first encounter, and Wiktor needed to learn more about him, and what perfect setting. You always could tell more of a man when they are in a party setting. In party’s people tend to talk more, and are in a more “relaxed” atmosphere. Also you can see how they handle themselves, and their self control, due to the fact that parties usually contained alcohol and women.
Wiktor now addressed the soldier head on, answering his question first. “Yes, I am indeed 2nd Lieutenant Boguslaw, but please, just call me Wiktor.” Wiktor motioned for them to continue walking, and began searching for the supposed table that Furey had told them of, and the small piece of paper that would bear their name, signaling their chosen spot for the evening. “I also heard that you were recently transferred to my division, and I apologize for not being able to meet you earlier. I have been quite busy lately, paper work mostly, but a few “errands” here and there you could say. And as soon as I returned back, I received a card inviting me to this party, and I couldn’t refuse it. I do need a good break, and this seemed like the best option.”
Wiktor stopped and spun around, facing the soldier as he did so. Surrounding them were groups of people here and there chatting, either standing or sitting down by the linen tables that now littered the premises. “But how rude I am being, I forgot my manners. I was never introduced to you sergeant, may I get a name?”
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Post by Harry Hamilton on Mar 24, 2010 15:56:19 GMT -5
The party was beginning to start. There was music playing in the other room, and some of the other guests had arrived. He didn't recognize any of the soldiers. He saw a group of men from the 101st pass by him and he gazed at the patches on their shoulders enviously. Some nurses came in, and a few of them were dancing with the soldiers in the other room. Harry thought of Elsa. She had said she might come if she wasn't busy at the hospital. He hoped she would come. He had brought the engagement ring he went out and bought. Then again, if she didn't come he wouldn't have to ask tonight. He could smell the food being cooked in the mansion's kitchen. This was bound to be better than the slop the cook served them in the mess hall, and way better than the garbage he ate during battles and skirmishes. He hadn't really sat down to a good meal in a long time. He watched as the Lieutenant studied him, and he couldn't help feeling a bit nervous. He kept his cool though, and waited patiently for the man to speak. He did, and when he spoke it was kindly, almost paternal. This was so unlike his last commanding officer. The Lieutenant asked him to address him by his first name, to his surprise. Harry smiled and replied, "Well, then, it's nice to meet you, Wiktor." He nodded as the Lieutenant apologized for not meeting him sooner. "We all need a break. Hopefully this will all be over soon, and we'll be able to go home and get on with our lives." He knew it wasn't as simple as that. But this was a party, and he wasn't going to ruin the mood. Many more man would have to die before this campaign was over. And he couldn't forget about the Pacific. God help those boys. At least he had food and drink and shelter, but those men were living in foxholes, hoping to survive the wrath of the Japanese, who would attack at night and fight to the death. He was awakened from his thoughts when Wiktor asked him his name. "Oh, forgive me. I'm Harold Hamilton, but most everybody calls me Harry."
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Post by Wiktor Boguslaw on Jun 6, 2010 8:07:22 GMT -5
The sergeant replied to his greeting, and he seemed to let out a quite sigh. He must have been relieved by Wiktor’s laid back approach to another soldier, one that is lower rank then him. Most officers in the war treated common soldiers strictly and with a mental force. Wiktor was at times like this on the battlefield, but when no in combat, he didn’t see why. To him rank didn’t mean much, a lowly private in his opinion could do just as good as a five star general.
The sergeant then introduced himself as Harold Hamilton, although it appeared he mostly went by the name Harry. Wiktor nodded at this, and was glad he was finally able to learn the name of this man, who would now be serving under him in the 1st Armored. “Nice to meet you Harry, now, why don’t we go and find the table that Furey was talking about.”
Wiktor continued walking down the thin aisle that was made between the rows of tables, most already filled with guests of some sort. The aisle was quite crowded and Wiktor at times had to push his way through, much to the annoyance of the ones being pushed. However Wiktor did apologize, although he didn’t see why since it was their fault for sitting in the middle of a busy walkway. A few minutes later he arrived at the table that was designated for him. There were four seats and a dinner setting for four people. Golden card folded and placed in front of each setting signaled who sat where. Wiktor was positioned to the right of Major Furey, and to the left of another person who was unknown, since Wiktor could not read the card, and in all honesty it didn’t really matter to him. Across from Wiktor sat Sergeant Hamilton.
Wiktor pulled out the chair that was designated for him, and he sat down carefully, leaning backwards against the chair. He examined the table a little bit more, taking in each detail. The tables were laid with white, smooth linen. On top in the middle was a vase of flowers, the kind varied from table to table, but the ones in the table Wiktor was sitting at contained roses. Each dinner setting contained one large plate, a smaller one, a soup bowl, a salad fork, dinner fork, dessert fork, soup sthingy, coffee sthingy, dinner knife, and butter knife. Each of these dinner utensils were made from silver, and the plates and bowls were hand crafted in an elegant and pristine style. Each setting was also accompanied by a velvet, red napkin, held together by a silver clasp.
After resting for a brief while, Wiktor motioned for a waiter to come over. The waiter noticed the gesture and walked over, dodging a couple getting out of their seat, most likely going to the dance floor. When the waiter got to Wiktor, he asked what he would like to have, and Wiktor quickly replied. “I would like some of your best French wine.” The waiter nodded at this, “we have recently gotten a shipment of wine from Paris, made from some of the finest grapes in the countryside.” Wiktor thought for a little bit before replying to this statement. “That would be excellent, bring a few glasses as well.” The waiter nodded and walked off, most likely to fulfill the order placed.
Wiktor glanced around the room, trying to identify any faces he knew. He couldn’t find a single one in the immediate area; he wasn’t used to this area of France and spent very little time in it. He also couldn’t find Major Furey, and he wondered where he was, probably chatting with his air marshal. The waiter arrived and placed a bottle of wine and a few glasses, before hurrying off. Wiktor poured himself a glass of wine and took a sip, letting the liquid swirl in his mouth. After a brief while Wiktor found the wine had a good taste to it, and he set the glass down. He wondered what to do now, and waited to see if anything would happen.
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Post by Harry Hamilton on Jun 17, 2010 18:22:21 GMT -5
After introductions had been made, Harry nodded at Wiktor's suggestion. "Right." He followed his CO into the huge dining room. The aisles were crowded and it was pretty hard to keep up with Wiktor. "Excuse me..sorry ma'am.." he mumbled apologizes as he squeezed his way through the crowd. Finally they reached their table. He fixed his uniform before sitting down across from Wiktor. Once he had settled into his seat, he glanced over at Wiktor, who was examining the table. He also looked at the table, surprised at the number of utensils. Which ones am I supposed to use? he thought worriedly. He had grown up in a very small town, his family was from the working class--he wasn't used to this sort of thing. Why, the fanciest thing I've been to is prom.. he realized. What if he made a mistake? He didn't want to make a fool out of himself in front of his commanding officer--or anyone else for that matter. His thoughts were interrupted when a waiter came over at Wiktor's request. He ordered himself some French wine, which the waiter was quick to bring. "Anything for you, monsieur?" Harry looked up at the waiter, hesitant. Usually he'd ask for a double bourbon, but he'd feel out of place drinking it at a formal event. "Uh, I'll take some champagne, please." "Of course, monsieur!" A few minutes later the waiter returned with a bottle and some glasses. "Thank you." Harry poured himself a little and gingerly took a sip. It was his first champagne--he had never tasted it before because he couldn't afford it. Not bad. The band had started to play again, and couples were dancing. He smiled and toyed with the box in his pocket. It had taken three months' pay for him to purchase it, but it was worth it to him. Only the most beautiful ring for Elsa, he thought to himself. He turned around in his seat when he heard women's voices. A group of nurses was entering the room. The nurse in the middle caught his eye and it didn't take him long to realize it was Elsa, what with her hazel eyes and blonde hair. But tonight she looked stunning--to Harry she always did, but she'd traded her nurse's uniform for a party dress. Before he could stop himself, he felt his mouth opening and forming a small 'O'. Apparently she noticed him as well--their eyes met and suddenly she was smiling at him. He shut his mouth and smiled back, mentally cursing himself for his stupidity.
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