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Post by Harry Hamilton on Mar 15, 2010 20:26:48 GMT -5
Wiktor said that he's purchasing a squad for my unit, so I'll be bringing that.
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Post by Harry Hamilton on Mar 14, 2010 11:49:36 GMT -5
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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 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 Harry Hamilton on Mar 3, 2010 20:25:12 GMT -5
Well, my commanding officer ( that is, Wiktor ) has given me command over the 3rd Platoon in Baker Company because of West's absence, but I'm still trying to find out if that means I actually have to buy a platoon of NPCs.
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Post by Harry Hamilton on Mar 3, 2010 20:17:44 GMT -5
Harry nearly breathed a sigh a relief. "Thank you, sir." he answered, saluting once more before taking a seat. Upon hearing his request to join them, he nodded in consent. "Sure, go right ahead." He pulled up a seat for the Tech Sergeant. "No, I haven't played it before..how do you play?" he asked in curiousity. He didn't really play card games, though in high school some of his friends taught him how to play poker. "Cigarette, anyone?" he asked, pulling out his pack and offering it to each man in the group. He took out one for himself and lit it before beginning to smoke. It was something he hardly ever did, but every since he joined the Army it was quickly becoming a stress-reliever and a horrible habit. He looked over at the Tech Sergeant again, noticing a Screaming Eagles patch on his arm. He gestured at the patch. "Are you with the 101st Airborne, sir?" he asked. He'd considered joining the Airborne, but he had decided he was cut out better for the normal infantry. Maybe someday he'd volunteer for them. He heard that the training was even more backbreaking than the regular infantry training. But after all he'd been through in North Africa, he had no doubt that he could handle it. Once a man had been through hell, he was ready for anything. That's the only good thing about war.
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Post by Harry Hamilton on Mar 3, 2010 17:03:10 GMT -5
I'd love to join if I'd be permitted to.
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Post by Harry Hamilton on Mar 3, 2010 13:07:15 GMT -5
"Well, boys, thank you for cheering me up. Here are your pennies back.." he handed them both their original bets and took his own three pennies off of the table, sticking them in his pocket. "I think I'm going to go to the Blue Barrel. Would you men like to-" "I hate to break the party, but it looks like there is gambling going on here. Why are you three out here?" Harry looked up at the newcomer, not very much liking his tone. He saw the stripes on his shoulder, seeing that the officer was a Tech. Sergeant a few steps above himself. Nevertheless, Harry was under his authority, as much as he hated his chickenshit. He rose to his gangling height of 6'3" and saluted before returning his hand to his side. "Good evening, Sergeant. These men found me in the barracks, and they invited me outside, since I was suffering from insomnia. I accompanied these men outside for a breath of air. They invitited me to play cards, and I took them up on their invitation. We were using coins as chips, as it is necessary when playing this particular game, but there was no serious gambling going on here. As you can see, we all have our money back that we started out with, meaning that there was no risk or stake involved--which is the legal definiton of gambling, staking, or risking something in a contest. Regardless of the outcome, we would all have our pennies of back--nothing was at stake. No one was to receive, or lose anything. "But I do realize, sir, what was intended to be an innocent game would be perceived as a harmful engagment in gambling to exterior entities. I take full responisblity for this, the men just wanted to take my mind off of the war during this brief respite from combat. It shan't happen again." he replied calmly and smoothly, looking the Sergeant straight in the eye. He didn't and hadn't taken the game seriously. He knew that NCOs and officers weren't supposed to gamble with their men, but he wasn't sure about the Technician 5th Grade. That's why he gave them their money back at the end. That and he never gambled anyway. He hardly ever drank or smoked as well. And he only cursed in combat. Harry was just a small-town kid who joined the army to fight the Japs. But despite his simple ways, he was smart, and he was disciplined and could follow orders--but that didn't mean that he didn't know how to rationally and respectfully defend his actions. Legally, they'd done nothing wrong. There were no stakes, and according to US law, that was not gambling.
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Post by Harry Hamilton on Mar 1, 2010 19:43:08 GMT -5
"Nice to meet you both." Harry replied politely as they left the barracks. He sat down with the two at the table just outside of the barracks. The fresh air was a nice change from the stuffy air inside the barracks, that was for sure. He already felt rejuvenated, as if he hadn't been outside for days. "so where you from sarge? I'm from Chicago." "Hmm? Oh I'm from a small town in Pennsylvania in the mountains." he replied, feeling a little bit homesick. "Chicago, huh? The biggest city I've been in was New York, and that was when we were getting ready to deploy." That was the second reason for his joining army, besides wanting to 'get the Japs'. He wanted to see the world. "I heard 3rd platoon took a beating l week ago...left most of the platoon dead." "Oh? That's terrible! I just got transferred to this outfit. I wasn't with them then. They must have been led by Sergeant West." Harry answered. That explained why the bunkers were empty. What was out there if the Nazis wiped half of his platoon? The Corporal was quiet for a few minutes, and when he spoke, he almost caught Harry by surprise. "war is hell, lets hope it ends soon." Harry simply nodded silently. It was hell. Watching men get shot and blown up in front of you was just what he had said--hell. It was something no man should have to go through. The sooner they took care of those Kraut bastards, the better. "how bout some good old Texas hold em?" "Alright." Harry agreed with a small smile, putting a few pennies into the pot. He was soon immersed in the game, quickly forgetting about all his worries about the war. It almost felt like the days before the war. Right now he was just playing cards with the guys. There were no artillery shells, no gunshots, no screaming, no blood--just the cards and the silence of a tranquil desert camp. "Say sarge you want to know what keeps me going during these times of war? I look at the sky...no matter where you are it always looks the same, kind of reminds me of this park in Chicago I went to as a kid whenever there were problems at home. Everybody has something they hang on to out here, without it they will go crazy after a while." Harry nodded in agreement. They were under one sky. He looked up impulsively at the cloudless sapphire sky, again thinking of his hometown. He remembered hunting with his friends, swimming in the river, playing baseball on many a summer day... "See this here bracelet? my girlfriend made it for me and I never take it off, just reminds me of what I am fighting for" Harry knew what he was fighting for. Or rather who he was fighting for. Though it would make him blush to admit it, she was the only thing that gave him courage, that kept him strong. There was no way he was going to let the Axis win. "What about you, you got something of home you cary around or something?" "Well, no not from home..but one of the nurses stationed here gave me this." He reached into his service coat and briefly showed them a maroon-colored scarf before replacing it. "I guess that's what reminds me of what I'm fighting for."
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Post by Harry Hamilton on Feb 28, 2010 16:22:36 GMT -5
Harry ran a hand through his brown hair miserably. Why the hell did those stupid Japs have to go and bomb Pearl Harbor? Then they wouldn't be in this mess. He'd be back home getting ready to take over his father's store. Maybe he'd be in college, studying architecture. There was a whole world of possibilities of what he'd be doing right now had the war not started. But then again, as much as he hated to admit it, the war had brought him good things as well. If there had been no war, chances are he'd never had met Elsa, the nurse he was in love with. He wouldn't have met the friends he never would have known had he not joined the service. Despite all this, he was still uneasy, and unable to rest. He had been planning to get some extra sleep this afternoon, which was now impossible. Luckily for him, a T/5 and another man approached him with a friendly invitation. "Sergeant, you want to come with us, we are just going out for a little air and maybe some cards?" Harry looked up at the Technician and nodded. "Thank you, Corporal, I think I might join you." he replied. He wondered how long they had been watching him. He began to feel a little self conscious and embarassed that he'd shown his despair so conspicuously. He retrieved his garrison cap from his pillow and put it on before standing up and facing the two men. "I'm Sergeant Hamilton, Executive Officer of the 3rd Platoon." The words sounded foreign to him, as he wasn't used to introducing himself this way. Before the war, it was just plain Harry. It proved how much the war had changed him. "And you two are?"
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Post by Harry Hamilton on Feb 26, 2010 17:59:59 GMT -5
"Down, Hamilton!" He could barely hear his commanding officer's yell as a shell just exploded right next to them. He dove into a ditch, choking as he inhaled the desert sand. It was stinging his eyes, his nose, and his face. His hearing gradually came back to him, but all he could hear was silence. There was something laying across his legs. His CO's body was lying there, lifeless and dead. The surviving members of his platoon were in a panic, seeing the body of their commander. Was he going to die too? Lying in a foxhole in the middle of the desert in North Africa, while the Germans decimated their army? Would he ever see home again? Harry's eyes flew open. Another dream about the same thing--one of his first battles in North Africa. He'd been terrified, and certain that he would die. Of course, he didn't die, but the battle taught him they he could die at any moment. In a matter of seconds, his commanding officer, Lieutenant Hargrove, had died--right in front of him. The event shocked Harry, and gave him a more sobering outlook on the war. When he'd joined the army, he thought the war would be over in no time. He couldn't have been farther from the truth. He sat on the edge of his bed and put his head in his hands. He'd gotten the afternoon off, but now he couldn't sleep. All he could think about was that battle. Would he go into combat again soon? Would he survive? What was to become of him in the next few weeks? Harry wondered if his father ever felt like this. He'd read his war diary, but to him it didn't show any signs of fear or doubt. He'd always wanted to be like his father, in every way. He had the biggest influence on him as a child and even more so now. Harry supposed the only thing he could do was pray and hope for the best. He had known when he had enlisted that there was a great chance that he'd die in this war. He knew that. He wanted to serve his country. It just hadn't been so plain to him until now.
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Post by Harry Hamilton on Feb 18, 2010 19:55:26 GMT -5
Harry walked into the Blue Barrel, extremely grateful for his furlough. Every time he got one, he treasured it, as they were the only respite he had from the horrors of war. Early on in the war, he spent his furloughs in the barracks writing to his parents. But as the shy young man began socializing with the other soldiers, he'd often go to town with them. This time, he was going to try out the Blue Barrel. He'd never been to this place before, but it had been recommended to him by other members of his division, the 1st Armoured Division to be precise. He'd just been transferred to this division, after a brief tour of duty in North Africa. In North Africa, he'd been a part of Operation Torch, and had battled both hostile French forces as well as the German army. He'd been injured during Operation Torch, after being shot in the arm. Lucky for him, it hadn't been fatal, nor did it cause infection, so he got to keep his arm ( how else was he going to play football? ). A beautiful nurse by the name of Elsa had patched him up. To this day he had never forgotten about her and her kindness. He would see her, every now and then--mostly when he got sick, which wasn't that often. It was a pleasant day, and he couldn't help but to think of what it was like back home in Pennsylvania. Home. Harry thought, yearning for that far-off place. He came from a small town where everyone knew each other. He remembered that when he was growing up, he wanted to leave town and see the world. Well, he'd gotten his wish, and it wasn't what it was cracked up to be. When he entered the bar, it was packed. There were British and American soldiers drinking beer, singing bar songs, and just having a good time. He smiled slightly and headed up to the barkeeper. "Good evening, sir. Might I purchase a drink please?" he asked courteously. He may have been a country boy but he did have manners. "Of course, lad." the older man replied kindly in his English accent. "You must be new around here, the name is Hardley." "Oh, I'm very glad to know you, Mr. Hardley. I'm Sergeant Harry Hamilton." "What division are you from, Sergeant?" "The 1st Armored. I, uh, just got transferred here from the 1st Infantry Division." The Big Red One. He'd made many friends there, and seen many of them die in combat. He didn't like leaving them, but he went where the Army needed him, and apparently the Army needed him as a junior NCO in the 1st Armored Division. "Well, then you must know those men over there." Hardley said, referring to West and Boguslaw, who were seated with two other men. "I don't think we've been introduced...I'll have to go over and talk with them." Harry stated, looking over at the men briefly. "Well, welcome to the Blue Barrel. What can I get for you?" the man asked cheerfully. "Uh, just a glass of beer, please." Harry dug in his pocket and withdrew the strange British money. He counted out the amount carefully and handed it to the barkeeper. "Here you are." "Thank you, lad. Enjoy your drink." "Thank you, sir." Harry tipped his hat to Hardley before leaving and walking out into the dining area. There were plenty of tables, but it looked as if the customers sitting at those tables were a tad bit inebriated. He looked around again and spotted a table with three men and one more men standing next to it, apparently talking. He made his way over to them, taking off his garrison cap to expose his thick brown hair, and straightening his tie, hoping to make a good impression. The tall, awkward, and blue-eyed youth was dressed in an olive drab dress uniform. "Excuse me," he timidly addressed all of them. "I-I don't mean to intrude, but I wonder if, if I might be permitted to sit with you folks. I'm Sergeant Harry Hamilton of the 1st Armoured Division."
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