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Post by Harry Hamilton on Jul 9, 2010 19:07:41 GMT -5
Today, the 1st Armored Division and the Airborne were conducting a mock battle. When Harry had gotten the memo, he'd realized that something was going to happen. A demonstration of this scale only meant one thing and one thing only--they were going into combat soon. He hadn't fought since his transfer to the 1st Armored. After getting wounded in North Africa he'd been reassigned, as was customary for wounded soldiers, and had become the executive officer of 3rd platoon, Baker Company. He'd spent the past few months training the men for combat. Most of them were teenage replacements who'd never seen combat. There were a few veterans but not many. The last time the platoon had seen action it had taken many casualties. This training exercise would be important for both him and the men. It would be a test for both parties--would he be a good leader under fire? Would they trust him and follow his orders? He was still thinking about all this when their convoy reached the field. The English countryside was beautiful. The sylvan landscape seemed to stretch out for miles. Someday, when this thing is over, I'm going to find some place like this and live the rest of my life in peace--if I'm lucky enough to survive. The trucks let them off near a hill Daniel Steinert and his squad were climbing. Harry observed them briefly before looking towards the forest. "Alright, men, our orders are patrol the woods over there for prisoners. Stay low and stick with the man beside you. In a real combat situation these woods could be crawling with Krauts, so stay alert. Move out!" The platoon leader started into the forest slowly, his blue eyes alert. ( OOC: Hope it's okay for me to join--no one had replied, and I didn't know if it was open or not. )
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Post by Harry Hamilton on Jun 17, 2010 18:51:40 GMT -5
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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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Post by Harry Hamilton on Apr 22, 2010 11:57:39 GMT -5
"No, I just got here, I'm on a 5 day leave." "Oh. Is this your first time in Paris, too?" Harry asked curiously. He had felt like such a wide-eyed kid when he got here. He wondered if Daniel was as impressed with the city as he was. His father was right--it was definitely worth the wait. He'd been wanting this pass for months. Now that he was here, he was going to enjoy himself. "What about you guys?" "I'm still working on my tea, but I would like another baugette, please." he told the waitress with a friendly smile. She smiled back and nodded before rushing off inside to the kitchen to put in their orders. "Hey, I know we have all been in this war together, what kind of souvenirs have you gotten?" "I sent one of those back home the other day." Harry replied with a nod. "But it was a gift from a friend." he added, indicating John. "I did get an Afrika Corps hat from a German during Operation Torch. I sent it home to my parents." He hated to say it, but he was anxious for the next battle. He wanted to prove himself once more, and get a Luger himself. "So, any of you gentlemen going to be lucky enough to attend that canteen in London?" he asked. "I've been there before, but there weren't any celebrities there at the time." he explained.
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Post by Harry Hamilton on Apr 4, 2010 21:39:01 GMT -5
”I’ll one up you, Have a cigar" "Oh, thank you sir." Harry replied gratefully as he took the cigar the officer had offered. "That's a fine cigar." he commented once it had been lit and he had taken a puff. Before he could say anything else, John Whitmoor had walked up to them and asked to sit down. He sat down before Harry could say anything. Harry merely grinned and said, "Hello, John." He listened as John spoke with the German officer who was with Major Campellone, but the only thing he could understand was 'Luftwaffe' and 'Officer'. He didn't speak or understand a word of German, but he could understand that this man was an officer of the Luftwaffe. He tried not to stare, but he did wonder what he was doing here. He guessed that he was a POW under Campellone's care. ”I haven’t seen you in some time, but I see your on leave in Paris. How has this city treated you?” "Ah, it's a very beautiful city--Dad was absolutely right about it. He was an infantry soldier in the Great War..he had a few leaves here so he told me stories about the city." He didn't mention his belief that some of the soldiers' descriptions of Paris were overly exaggerated. He was extremely greatful for this furlough. Combat took a toll not only on one's physical health, but his mental health as well. It could ruin a man and leave him completely and utterly broken--Harry had seen it happen many times. ”Hans here only knows a bit of English, and they are the lyrics to the 1917 song “A bachelor Gay.”, by Peter Dawson.." "Oh. Well, I have to say I don't know a bit of German. I, uh, took Spanish in high school instead. But that's not really coming in handy, is it?" He remembered that his father had suggested that he take German, but Harry had gone against his wishes and taken Spanish instead, since he believed that it would be easier. Yet another soldier had arrived at the table. Harry recognized him as now-Sergeant Steinert. "Hello, Daniel. Yes, please, join us." he invited him with a friendly smile. "Has anyone seen any good movies lately? I saw that Judy Garland picture a few days ago--Meet Me in St. Louis? Gosh, does she have a great voice.." Harry observed. "Say, did you here that she's going to be at a USO canteen in London soon? I'd give anything to go."
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Post by Harry Hamilton on Apr 1, 2010 22:11:08 GMT -5
Despite the war, the city was a lively as ever. He could hear music from inside the shop, and could see couples dancing. He turned back around and caught sight of a French woman who looked distinctly like a character from Casablanca. He watched her for a while before shaking his head and drinking some more of his tea. It was a fine city. He'd give it that. He didn't know what all the hype was about though. Maybe it was because he was homesick. After being over there for two years it would only make sense. He tried not to think about his homesickness, especially during battle. It was distracting, and the smallest distraction could cost you victory, as well as your life. He supposed the only good thing about the war was the fact that through it he had met the girl he intended to marry. It was two years ago, during Operation Torch. Harry had been shot in the arm and evacuated to a field hospital. A nurse named Elsa had taken care of him and brought him back to health. They began seeing each other soon after, and he promised to marry her after the war--whenever that was. He couldn't guess when the war would end. Not anymore. After D-Day, he, like everyone else, thought that the Germans would give up every day. But that wasn't what fate had in store for them. He could no longer predict what was going to happen to him or the division in general. He knew that at some point he'd go into combat with his new division. He wasn't exactly worried. He'd seen combat in North Africa, and had taken over his platoon when his CO was KIA. That had earned him the rank of Sergeant. No, he was worried about leading this entirely new group of men. Most of them were his age or younger, and had not been in combat before. He'd need to motivate them, and he would need to earn their trust and loyalty. He knew he could do that. He'd done it before. But the difference was that he had only temporarily had control of the platoon in North Africa. He was platoon leader from now until he was either relieved or killed. These men's lives were in his hands. He had realized that in North Africa, but he had been so calm under fire. All that had mattered was getting the job done. He had to do that now. He had to prepare his men for combat, and lead them into battle. He had to do what was expected of him. He drank some more tea and looked up as someone addressed him. It was an officer--he could see that he was a Major. When he introduced himself as Furey Campellone, he nodded, suddenly remembering him. "Of course, sir. I wouldn't mind." He reached into his pocket and held out a pack of cigarettes to the two men. "Cigarette?"
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Post by Harry Hamilton on Apr 1, 2010 12:19:01 GMT -5
Paris, 1944. The city of love and all that jazz. His dad had told him stories about Paris and its charms. He had praised the architecture, the food, the people..he had worshipped Paris. Needless to say, Harry had been excited to visit the city whenever he got a pass. He'd soon been issued one, and off he went in his service uniform complete with garrison cap. He didn't bring any weapons except for his Browning Hi-Power, which he kept at his side at all times. It was like that Gershwin song--"An American In Paris." He hummed the song softly to himself as he strolled down the shady lanes. He bumped into several other soldiers, who glared at him at first but held their tongues when they saw his stripes. He grinned to himself before walking into a a restaurant. He ordered tea and sipped it at one of the tables outside. The other soldiers at the restaurant had ordered ales and beers. Harry wasn't much of a drinker. He had his first beer overseas and that was it for him. He seldom drank afterward. He could smell the scent of freshly baked baguettes wafting through the air, drawing him in and intoxicating him. He bought one and chewed it happily. He felt like a kid in a candy store. Here he was with all the food he could ask for after months of fighting on the front. Now he had a break from the hell that was war. The sight of men without limbs and crying and reaching their breaking points. He would never forget what he saw, but right now he pushed the thoughts away. He wondered if anyone else from his company had gotten a pass. He was the only one from the platoon that had been granted one. He took another sip of his tea before picking up a newspaper someone had left behind on the table. After a few seconds of examining it he realized it was in French and put it down. He couldn't read or speak a word of French.
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Post by Harry Hamilton on Mar 30, 2010 18:40:04 GMT -5
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Post by Harry Hamilton on Mar 25, 2010 16:59:30 GMT -5
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Post by Harry Hamilton on Mar 25, 2010 12:03:36 GMT -5
Harry watched in awe as John put the Luger on the table. He'd never even seen a Luger this close. He was about to refuse--he couldn't take his prized Luger, but then the Tech Sergeant added that he had plenty of them. He then told Harry how he had come to own it. "I haven't had to kill any SS Krauts yet. I did know a guy who killed one and got a Luger, but he wouldn't let me touch it." he said with a chuckle. "I can see why, since it's so difficult to get." Harry would have never casually discussed killing other men before the war. Before the war the only things he shot were rabbits and deer. The difference between hunting and war was that they were killing real intelligent beings. He didn't like it but that's what he had to do. He had to do it to keep alive and to keep his comrades alive as well. Out here it was survival of the fittest. John showed him his hand, and sure enough Harry's was higher. Actually, it was a full house. "Luck of the Irish today I guess. I'm not much of a card player either." Harry replied. He picked up the Luger and examined it. "Gee this really is a doozy." Making sure it was on safety he tucked it into his M43 jacket. He nodded at John. "Well, don't tell Elsa but the girls in Europe are very pretty." He looked at his watch and then back at John. "Well, I'd better go over to the training field. They issued me a Lee-Enfield and I have to get used to it before the next skirmish. Would you like to come along?"
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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 Harry Hamilton on Mar 20, 2010 17:24:24 GMT -5
Harry nodded, agreeing with John. He knew that many of the Allied ships had been destroyed by German U-boats, and he knew that there were Japanese kamikaze fighters that would crash into US Navy ships in the Pacific without a moment's notice. That was one of the reasons why he was glad he was in the ETO. The Japs wouldn't give up, even if it meant suicide. That was a difficult enemy to fight. "Yeah, I get a little seasick, myself." Harry answered with a chuckle. The only boat he could stay on was a fishing boat, and that wasn't for too long. He listened to John talk about his background, and he couldn't help feeling a little bit sorry for him. The Depression hadn't hit his family nearly as hard. He had led a comfortable middle class life back home. He remembered his mother's home-cooked meals, and how everyone would eat their fill. John's tale was another reminder of how fortunate he'd been in his childhood. Always count your blessings, son, his father used to tell him. He had. He still did. For one, he was alive, unlike some of his comrades. "I used to hike up there all the time. You kinda get used to it if you do it a lot, but it's still a challenge." He used to trap rabbits and deer up in the mountains. His eyes glazed over as he remembered those idyllic fall days, but he soon came to. "Well, I'll put in another dime. What we do now is make the best hand we can, only 5 cards, not more, not less. And regular rules apply. Of course, with my luck, I'll probably lose. The only time I got a straight flush, the other guy got a royal flush. I lost over $80 and one of my Lugers. It was an artillery Luger, huge barrel. So, got anybody waiting at home for you, Harry?" "Ah, I'll probably end up losing. I'm not much of a card player, that's for sure." Harry replied, laughing. "You had a Luger? I've yet to find one of those. I've always wanted one, though." He shook his head at John's question. "No one besides Ma and Pa. But I do have someone I do intend on marrying soon. She's not back home though, she's a nurse. She's stationed up at the field hospital. I was thinking about going up to see her, but she's probably busy with all the patients that keep pouring in and all." He put down another dime. "What about you? Anyone waiting for you?"
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Post by Harry Hamilton on Mar 19, 2010 22:24:35 GMT -5
Harry listened to the Tech Sergeant's instructions and nodded. He put down a nickel and took a puff of his cigarette. "Lost it in training?" Harry asked, raising a brown eyebrow with an amused grin. He watched the other man lit his cigarette, and saw the glint of his lighter, complete with a 101st decal. "Yes s-John." Harry replied. "It's nice to meet you." He listened interestedly as John explained why he joined the paratroopers. "It is a great idea. You know, I thought about joining the 101st, but my dad was an infantry officer back in the Great War, and you know, I wanted to be like him, since he's my Pa and all." he explained, taking another puff after he did so. "But I definitely will consider it. I just got transferred to this outfit, so I'd like to get to know my men and maybe see them through a few battles, and maybe after that we'll see what happens. It's definitely a possiblity though." He did want to join the paratroopers. They were the elites--the few, the proud, the mighty. He'd give anything to join their ranks. Harry put another nickel down and looked at John. "So, where are you from? I'm from a little town in Pennsylvania, in the Appalachians." he explained. Talking about his hometown and life before the war sure made being a soldier easier. It made him forget that they were actually fighting a war, and that they might die the next day. It gave him serenity, if only for a while, and that was important. If a soldier wasn't calm, then he was useless.
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Post by Harry Hamilton on Mar 18, 2010 11:48:46 GMT -5
Two on two is alright with me.
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Post by Harry Hamilton on Mar 16, 2010 19:11:22 GMT -5
Yes.
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