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Post by James Thomas West on Dec 23, 2009 19:50:40 GMT -5
The Blue Barrel was a local pub in the small village of Tanneytown. A mile away, members of the 1st Armored Division were stationed at their marshalling area. They frequented the pub as often as their leaves were granted. It's ice cold ale and jovial atmosphere made it a popular place for the troops. On weekends, it became overflowing with the American GIs and there was standing room only. A light haze of cigarette smoke always seemed to hang in the air like the early morning fog that frequented the GI's marshalling area. The American troops had made good friends with the pub's owner, Mr. Hardley, and had never let a destructive fight break out within the pub. It was a Wednesday night, around 0800. Staff Sergeant West strode into the Blue Barrel. It was not particularly crowded. He could see a few familiar faces around the pub at various tables and the bar itself. Mr. Hardley stood behind the bar wiping a glass. West slowly walked up to the bar, and nodded toward a few of the faces within the bar. When he got to the bar, he could see Hardley look over at him. " 'Ello, Sarhn't West. What'll it be?" Hardley said in his crisp English accent. "Hey, Mr. Hardley. I'll just take a beer and shot of Whiskey." "Coming right up, Sargeant." replied Mr. Hardley gingerly. He put the cup back amongst the other empty ones on the wall and grabbed a shot glass in its place. West glanced around the room again as Hardley poured Whiskey into the glass. West reached into his pocket and brought out the English money that he had. He still hadn't got the hang of how to pay for everything with it. He brought up the money to the counter as Hardley put the bottle of beer towards him. "Sorry, Mr. Hardley. I still haven't got used to this Mickey Mouse looking money." West said with an embarrassed look on his face. Mr. Hardley chuckled. "That's quite alright. I'll just take the cost." Mr. Hardley picked through the money, and took a few of the coins and handed it back to West. West placed the rest back into his pocket and grabbed the shot of Whiskey. He quickly gulped the contents and felt the hard flavor and sting in his mouth. He lightly winced and and exhaled. "Damn good Whiskey, Mr. Hardley." "Thanks, Sarge. Cost me a pretty penny." West smiled and pushed the shot glass back towards him. He picked up his beer and turned around. He wanted to find a table to sit and talk with some of his buddies.....
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Post by Wiktor Boguslaw on Dec 24, 2009 7:30:48 GMT -5
NOTE: James is having the bar keeper have some big accent, but I can not do this so on my posts the bar keeper will be talking normally, sorry if this is a problem
The day was going wonderful for Wiktor. The sun was shining, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and a light breeze was gently flowing through the air. Also for once Wiktor didn’t have a mountain of paperwork at his desk, no training or drills, nothing, the entire day was open and free for him. With the war heating up, days like this were rare, and greatly cherished. Wiktor lurked around base for awhile until he came upon the bases garage and repair facility. There he found out that there was a spare jeep available for use. Wiktor decided to use it too ride into town, and soon he found himself going down a well paved road at 50 miles an hour with the wind rushing through his hair.
A building rose up in the distance among the trees, almost hidden, but still quite visible. Wiktor identified this place as the Blue Barrel Bar from its large sky blue sign at the front of the building. Wiktor remembered hearing some soldiers talk about how this was the best bar for miles and miles around, served some of the best liquor you could ask for. Wiktor decided that this was an ideal place to go for today, he could enjoy a good beer or two, catch up on local news, and maybe even chat too some of the other soldiers stationed here. Wiktor drove the jeep and parked it under some trees to the right of the building on a small sandy lot. He then walked up to the door and gently pushed it open.
Wiktor walked in and glanced around at his surroundings. The bar was pretty small, as bars go, but it still had a warm and comfortable feeling around it. There was a narrow avenue going through the center all the way to the long oak bar table where the bar keeper stood ready to serve. Too either side were booths lining the wall where customers could sit and chat. In between the booths and the avenue were tables made so that one could sit down with his buddies and play a game of cards. Wiktor walked up to the bar and the bar keeper came over.
Wiktor looked up at the bar keeper and began to talk, “Hello sir….” “You can call me Mr. Hardley soldier,” the bar keeper quickly replied in a cheerful tone, “but I’ve never seen you before.” “I’m second lieutenant Wiktor Boguslaw, I’ve been stationed here with the 1st armored division a few miles from here.” “I see, well what will it be today Mr. Boguslaw,” Mr. Hardley asked as he took up a glass and began cleaning it with a small white rag. “I’ll take the best beer you have; I’m quite new to this bar.” “Coming right up lieutenant.”
Wiktor turned around as the bar keeper left too fulfill his order and glanced about the room. There were soldiers here and there talking with friends and booths, there was even a heated card game in one of the corners. The bar keeper soon came back and placed a cold glass brimming with golden beer next too Wiktor. Wiktor took the glass up and swallowed a bit, and was shocked at the taste. “This is certainly some of the best beer I’ve ever had Mr. Hardley.” “Why thanks, that’s certainly what a lot of folks say,” Mr. Hardley replied in a happy voice with a little hint of pride.
“By the way, you said you’re from the 1st armored division.” Wiktor nodded to this question as he took yet another sip from his glass. “So you’re with the sergeant over there, Sergeant James West.” Mr. Hardley pointed across the room at a soldier sitting alone at one of the booths, seeming at home with this place. Wiktor nodded, “yes, I believe he is actually a new guy coming into my company, I never had the chance to meet him.” Wiktor slid some money over to the bar keeper too pay for his drink and stood up from his chair. He had decided this was a great chance to meet the man that would be fighting under his command.
Wiktor walked across the floor, dodging the tables that littered about. When he got too the booth that the Sergeant was in, the Sergeant turned toward him. “Are you Sergeant James West” “Yes I am,” the man replied. Wiktor say down across the table from him and placed his glass on the table. “My name is Wiktor Boguslaw, it’s nice to finally meet you sergeant.”
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Post by James Thomas West on Dec 24, 2009 9:12:34 GMT -5
"It's very nice to meet you too, Lieutenant," West said with a smile on his face, reaching out his hand. The officer took his hand and they shook briskly. "Please, sir, by all means, have a seat." West stood slightly from his chair.
"Thank you, Sergeant. Please, be seated." the Boguslaw said politely.
West began to relax, and sat back down into his chair. It was good to see a Lieutenant who could command troops as well as relax with them over a beer. Boguslaw took his seat across from West. He slowly took another swig from his cool beer. The contents cooling his mouth as the flavor rushed into his mouth.
"I know you are one of the new men to my company, Staff Sergeant. How do you like things so far?" asked Boguslaw.
"I believe I am fitting in quite nicely, so far, sir. I am eager to command the recon unit. My men seem to be pretty comfortable with me." West said in a respectful tone. He glanced around the room to see a few more GIs coming into the bar. Another soldier in the corner lighting a cigarette. "So, Lieutenant, where are you from?" West asked inquisitively.....
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Post by Wiktor Boguslaw on Dec 24, 2009 9:39:19 GMT -5
Wiktor chuckled inside his head. How many times do you see a commanding officer and a soldier talking over a couple of beers. But Wiktor liked this, officers should get too know their soldiers in a “natural setting”. The two men quickly greeted each and began talking first about the division, now it was moving more personal. “Well Sergeant, I come from Poland, around the city of Warsaw, the capital of the nation.” Wiktor lifted his glass and took a big sip of the beer, letting the contents gently roll down his throat. Wiktor leaned back on his chair and glanced around. The bar was receiving more occupants now, but there was still a good level of room.
Wiktor sat forward again and turned to face the man in front of him. “I moved to America after Poland was attacked by the German Army, barely made it out. After that I signed up for the army and here I am now.” Wiktor turned as a man cheered from a card table; obviously he had one a round, or maybe the entire game. “Excuse me for a moment.” Wiktor stood up and walked over to where the bar keeper was standing. “Sir, do you allow smoking in this bar?” Mr. Hardley glanced up and replied,”sure do, your one of the first too actually ask me, thank you for that.” Wiktor nodded and walked over to where the Sergeant was still sitting.
“Sergeant, I’ve read your profile, so I do know quite a bit about you, your past, why you joined, etc. But if there’s anything else that you didn’t put down, please, tell me, I would like to get too know you better.” Wiktor once again took a seat opposite of the Sergeant. He reached inside his coat pocket and grasped the small box he had. He pulled it out and set it on the table. “Sergeant, do you smoke?” As Wiktor asked this he opened the container too reveal small cigarettes stacked next to each other and pushed it toward the Sergeant.
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Post by James Thomas West on Dec 25, 2009 6:37:15 GMT -5
Staff Sergeant West had listened intently to his CO's story. The noise in the bar grew a bit louder now that it began to fill up. The card game still went on in the corner of the bar with occasional outbursts of excitement.
"No, thank you, sir, but I actually don't smoke." West replied politely to the lieutenant's offer. He took another swig from his beer. The lieutenant noddedand slipped a cigarette into his mouth and retreived a lighter from his pocket. "Well, there's nothing much more to me, sir. Just looking to get this all done with and head back home. I joined the recon outfit because of how much I was used to being outdoors and tracking and such because of how I grew up. I am actually looking to get a football team going in the Regiment and compete against other regiments in the division. If you know anybody who would be interested, please, let me know."
West took another swig from his beer. He could see it was nearly empty. He was enjoying the conversation he was having with Lieutenant Boguslaw. He didn't seem like the other officers. He knew his business, but there was still a sense of freidnliness to him. He didn't treat West as if he were in position over him, right now, but rather as if they were old friends. West respected that. An officer that knew when to lead his men, when to be stern, and when to just be friendly.
Mr. Hardley was actively filling glasses and taking orders behind the bar. There was yet another cheer from the card table. He could see the soldiers getting up and moving over to the bar, probably to order another round of beers. West watched as the officer took a drag from his cigarette and blew the smoke out.
"So, sir, you got a girl back home?"
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Post by Wiktor Boguslaw on Dec 25, 2009 10:39:34 GMT -5
As Wiktor was listening to the Sergeants own thoughts about the war he glanced around. Still more people were coming in, must have been the time of day when everyone was getting at least a little free time. Wiktor turned back as the Sergeant finished talking. “A football team? Well, I’ll make sure to talk to the other officers about this, I think it would be a great idea, would be a nice way for soldiers too relieve some of the stress that they accumulate.”
Wiktor glanced behind him as someone swore extremely loudly. Apparently one of his friends pushed him and he spilled beer all over his uniform. The entire room burst out laughing as the soldier desperately attempted to wipe of the beer. Wiktor took one last sip of his beer and set the glass firmly down onto the table. “I’ll also talk to the other members of my company and see if we can get this arranged, but since it was your idea if you want to do this on your own, by all means go ahead.” Wiktor smiled at the Sergeant as both of them were quiet for a while deep in thought.
The Sergeant was the first one to break the silence by asking if Wiktor had a girl back home. Wiktor frowned and leaned back. “Well, I was married to a girl in Poland, beautiful girl, like the sun in the sky. But, the same day the Germans attacked our town, the same day I fled…..” Wiktor paused a moment and glanced at the floor. “The same day my family was executed.” Wiktor sat there for a while, just staring at the floor recalling that dreadful day. After a minute or so he was taken out of this trance by someone shouting by the bar counter. This time a soldier’s friend actually stole his beer and drank most of it. These soldiers, hard too believe these simple, relaxing men were also the men who fearlessly stormed Omaha Beach on D-day.
This thought made him once again glance up at the Sergeant and smiled. “You want another drink Sergeant, it’s on me.” Wiktor waited for a reply as put away his lighter into his inside jacket pocket, along with his small container. He then glanced back at the Sergeant, and waited for a word from him before he called Mr. Hardley over too their table.
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Post by James Thomas West on Dec 27, 2009 18:35:34 GMT -5
"Thanks, Lieutenant. I will just take a last shot of whiskey." West watched as the lieutenant held up his hand while looking over at Mr. Hardley.
"A shot of whiskey for the Sergeant, Mr. Hardley." The officer asked politely.
"Right away lads," said Mr. Hardley as he briskly walked back behind the bar. He returned promptly with the single shot and put it next to Staff Sergeant West. West nodded his appreciation as Boguslaw handed him the money.
"I'm sorry to hear about your girl, sir," West said in an apologetic way. "But I wouldn't be too worried. I'm sure she is fine. We will kick the Krauts right in the teeth and get to her somehow." West looked at the whiskey in the small glass. "I got a girl too. I'm fixing to marry her when I get back home."
His thoughts often drifted back home to May. He wrote her as often as he could. Often times everyday. He was elated when he received a letter from her. He carried a picture of her always in his helmet or in his shirt pocket. She was never far from his mind.
"My boys are eager to get into the fighting, Lieutenant. A lot of them are pretty green," West told the officer in honesty. The lieutenant nodded. and said....
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Post by Wiktor Boguslaw on Dec 27, 2009 19:46:25 GMT -5
OOC: Um, my "girl" was executed, that's what I said in my last post (no worries though, that topic is pretty much done I think for our thread) , I'll get a post here tomorrow.
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Post by James Thomas West on Dec 27, 2009 22:31:56 GMT -5
OOC: sorry, just thought your family was, my bad. I was changing the subject at the end to talk about any NPC's in the Division, and specifically in the recon unit.
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Post by Wiktor Boguslaw on Dec 28, 2009 16:42:39 GMT -5
Wiktor slid some money over to the Sergeant, too pay for the whiskey he ordered. Wiktor then placed his wallet back into his shirt pocket and faced the Sergeant. “Well, hopefully this war will be open, so all of us can go back too our homes. I hope you two get married and live a happy life after this affair is done,” Wiktor said as he smiled. Wiktor motioned for Mr. Hardley once more to come over. “Sorry about bothering you again, but can I have another beer, same one, that was really good stuff.” “No problem Lieutenant,” replied Mr. Hardley in a very cheerful tone of voice as he walked back to fulfill Wiktors order. Wiktor once again glanced at the Sergeant while he commented on his new recon unit. “Yes, we are getting lots of new recruits from over in America and Britain. With the war now turning in our favor, the boys back home are really fired up on signing too join the army. I’m sure that in due time, with extra training and some battle experience, they will make a formidable fighting force.” At the sound of footsteps Wiktor glanced and saw Mr. Hardley come over and place Wiktor’s glass of amber beer on the table. Wiktor pulled out a few dollars and handed them too Mr. Hardley who walked away after the payment. “Also, about the recon unit, I did hear you wanted to add this into our division. I personally believe this will be a great idea, and I believe that Captain Gunther is also up with this idea. It will take some time to fully set up a functional recon unit, but we will be working toward it.” Wiktor glanced at his watch, noting the time. There was still plenty of time in the day, which was certainly fine with Wiktor. Wiktor looked up once again at the Sergeant. “I do have a question I would like to ask you Sergeant West. I know you’re still new to this division, signing up a few weeks ago, but so far, how do you like this division. I would really like to know, your opinion is going to be generally the opinion of soldiers, and I want to know if I should change how I run this company. You can be truthful, I’m not going to hate you, and I won’t tell Captain Gunther about what you said.” Wiktor knew that he too was generally new too his status as second lieutenant, and the head of his company, so he knew he could use all the feedback he could get.
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Post by James Thomas West on Dec 31, 2009 4:46:12 GMT -5
The pub had now become alive and buzzing with activity. Soldiers from various units, mainly the 1st Armored, were gathering in the fine establishment. The cigarette smoke in the air had begun to grow thicker. The laughter from the young GIs filled the room. Many were having a good time. Staff Sergeant West and Lieutenant Boguslaw seemed to be two of the calmest people in the room. West glanced around. He saw two men from his squad. Private First Class Matthew Parker and Private Henry Miller. They had recently arrived and were lighting up some cigarettes at the bar.
James put his attention back to the LT. West definitely appreciated the honesty of the officer. "Well, sir. I know that it will take some time to get the Recon unit set up. But I assure you, it will be an essential and invaluable part of the division. The more time taken means the more time we have to get everyone ready and all necessary equipment in place. I feel like the unit is being run very smoothly at this point. However, my trust in the unit's leadership will solidify when we acually experience combat, and see how they lead the men. With all due respect, Lieutenant, I have seen plenty of so called 'good leaders' collapse under the pressure of combat. I have heard very good things about you and the rest of the officers though. So, I do have confidence in you. I have told my men time and again that I will do everything I can to get them home; and I do not want some officer messing that up...sir. But, like I said, I have much confidence in you and the other officers, and it certainly seems like my men do. I'm sure that we will get along just swell, lieutenant."
West hoped he had not upset the lieutenant with his words. He liked this officer. He had carefully worded what he had said. Now, he had to wait for what Lt. Boguslaw would say....
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Post by Wiktor Boguslaw on Dec 31, 2009 14:19:54 GMT -5
The bar was starting to get a little wild, men were cheering, glasses were clinking, and Mr. Hardley barely kept up with all the orders coming in. Smoke fled from one table to the next like a patch of fog trying to cover everything at once. Wiktor sipped the last remains of the contents of his glass and set it back gently on the table. Wiktor looked at the Sergeant as he spoke about his recon unit and his opinion on Wiktors question. “Like I said before Sergeant, I’m sure your unit will be excellent in action, a real help on the battlefield.” Mr. Hardley walked up to the table and took Wiktors glass. “Will you be wanting anything else Lieutenant?” “No, Mr. Hardley, but thank you for asking.” Mr. Hardley trotted away, no doubt fulfilling more of the orders coming his way.
“Also, about the ‘good leaders’, I too have seen what you have said. Many captains and commanders think they are invincible, that they can take anything on, and with that they lose caution and instinct. A good leader should always expect the worse, even if there is not a chance it may happen, it still could. Now, about seeing your men come home, I believe that is our entire goal. Who wants to see the man next to him die? No one, not a single person on this planet. My point that I stress over and over, the man’s life next to you is in your hands and yours in his. No one man shall be left behind. We will try to prevent heroic sacrifices, and just have them be heroic actions. If an officer sacrifices the life of the man next to him, or abandons him, for his own gain, that man is not fit too lead, or even too live.”
Wiktor leaned back and rested his hands upon either side of the chair. " I am glad you have confidence in us Sergeant,” Wiktor replied with a smile. “I will assure you, I will do my best to keep that confidence and opinion high. I do also believe that we will work well together, we hold some of the same thoughts, and we respect each other. I do not look over you as a superior; I look at you as an equal in this Great War. We are both men trying to protect our country.”
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Post by Furey "Blondie" Campellone on Jan 2, 2010 1:30:29 GMT -5
Furey drove his jeep along the long winding road that lead to the main portion of Tanneytown, England. He enjoyed the long rides he frequented when not on escort duty for B-17's. He often got the time to mourn for his falled comrads, in the past four months he had seen five of his wingmen, five of his friends, shot down. Two by flak, one by a German Jet, what he would later find out to be an ME262, and two more by a Fockewulf. As he neared the main portion of town, he could see it was quite crowded, American Gi's and British soldiers, some of the 101st airborne, and some of the 1st Armored Division, strolling in and out of the main life of Tanneytown, the Blue Barrell, a bar he Frequented only when he go the chance. He felt the air rush over his Visor cap, and looked around, his Jeep must of stuck out, because it had a fresh coat of White paint on it, very rare, but accepted at his Airbase. There were also Seven German flags on the side of it, signifying that he had shot down Seven Kraut planes. He parked his Jeep in a secluded space, just incade a Drunken GI was to come across it and Requisition it, and took the long walk from his "Parking Space" to the Bar. He passed many soldiers, all men of the Army, all dawning their Green standard issue uniforms. He wasnt accustom to seeing officers anymore, for his transfer to the Army Aircore had him being considered an officer himself. As he strolled into the Bar, he took a good wiff of the heavy cigarette smoke, along with the Alcohol, and took off his Visor cap, and looked around at the many men that filled the room. There was a heavy sence of happiness, if that is possible, and he looked around at themany men of the Army, his fresh white uniform and polished black shoes made him stick out like a sore thumb, compared to the Green uniforms and standard issue boots of the men. He looked over at the Bar-Owner, a good friend of his, whom would often share stories of the First Great war with, and walked over to the bar. Mr. Hardley excused himself from a conversation at hand, and said "Well, Ello Furey, Its gooda' see you again, i 'avent seen you in awhile, i thought you'd been shot down!" Furey smiled, saying "No, not yet, I had a close call though!" "You dont say! You'll have to tell me later on. In the Meanwhile, what'll you have?" Mr. Hardley asked. "Ill have a nice sized schnauppes, If you've got any left." Furey asked politely. He had grown fond of the German drink, and would often have to get a case of it from the Black Market in order for Mr. Hardley to be able to sell the stuff at his Bar. "Ofcourse, Furey, just find a seat and ill bring you some over in a moment." He replied. Furey looked around, attempting to find a seat. He found Three Plausable seats, One was a booth with an American GI, obviously extremely drunk, due to the fact he was mistaking his Helmat for a beer glass. The second booth was occopied by two British soldiers, both too drunk to be sociable, due to the fact that they were both asleep against the wall of the bar. His last choice was a booth with two men, obviously sober. One was an officer, and from what Furey could see, he was a Lieutenant. The second man's rank wasnt quite readable, probably because his sight wasnt used the the ligthing in the room, it was quite different than the darkness outside. He took off his visor cap, holding it under his arm as he walked over to the mens table, and politely asked to take a seat, saying "Hello boys, i apologize if I interrupted you're conversation, but would you mind if i took a seat and joined you?", his thick Italian accent still shining through after almost a decade of living in America, and being stationed in England. ( Note, the two men ARE Wiktor and James, I apologize for it not being specific. )
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Post by Wiktor Boguslaw on Jan 12, 2010 16:55:14 GMT -5
Wiktor and James had been in a moment of silence, both of them thinking hard about the conversation they just had, when a man slowly walked up to their table. Wiktor glanced up at the newcomer and studied him with a glance of his keen eyes, making sure to catch every detail. The man wore a stunningly bright white uniform, almost bringing pain into your eyes if you looked at it too long, due to the dim atmosphere of the bar. The half covered insignia on his arm informed Wiktor that this newcomer was a 1st Sergeant, a very high ranking trooper, but not quite at the level of officer. What more too Wiktor’s amazement was that also on his arm he bore the insignia of the American air force, something that Wiktor was not accustomed to seeing while he was in the 1st Armored.
The man politely asked if he could take a seat next to Wiktor and James, and as he said this Wiktor noted the think Italian accent that was issued in his voice. So we have an Italian here, I would like to get too know this man. Not only is he a fellow soldier, but he is the first member of the air force that I have seen while in France. Wiktor thought that the proposition of him sitting was acceptable, but glanced at James for approval on his behalf. James nodded his head at Wiktor’s questioning glance, and Wiktor turned back to face the man and stood up, smoothing down the cresses in his uniform as he did so.
“Hello Sergeant, my name is Wiktor Boguslaw; I’m a 2nd Lieutenant of the 1st Armored Division.” Wiktor politely held out his hand for a friendly hand shake. The newcomer took his hand, and after a brief handshake, let go. Wiktor then turned over to James and once again spoke to the man. “Over here is James West, Staff Sergeant of the 1st armored division as well.” Wiktor then turned back to face his seat and once again sat down on the seat that he previously occupied and beckoned the man to sit down.
“Well Sergeant, since you have a very strong Italian accent, I will guess that you’re from Italy,” Wiktor said to the Sergeant while he faced him. “But please, I would like to get too know you, first off, what’s your name soldier.”
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Post by Furey "Blondie" Campellone on Jan 15, 2010 14:09:32 GMT -5
Furey was greeted warmly by the Lieutenant, and took a seat down at the table, listening to him. He looked at this Lieutenant, Appropriately named Wiktor, and listened as he introduced himself, and the Staff Sergeant James West sitting in the chair next to him. He shook the mans hand as he extended it, and listened to his Thick, Polish accent, and assumed that he was From Poland.
As Wiktor continued to speak, he waited for the question that he usually received when meeting a new man in Europe, “Are you Italian?” When the Question came, he smiled, as it was in a different tone of voice. Instead of the usual Rude or Confused tone, this mans tone was friendly, and even inviting. As Wiktor finished, Furey Spoke.
“Well, Yes, I am Italian. Well, I can tell you my name first so that you don’t have to keep calling me 'Soldier', although I don't mind it too much. My name is Furey Campellone, I’m First Sergeant of the United States Air force; I’m also in the 352nd, the blue nosed bastards of Botany."
He watched as Mr. Hardley walked towards the table, holding in his hands a Cristal schnauppes container, and three glasses. As he neared the Table, and set it down, Furey said “Thank you, Mr. Hardley. May I assume this is the Liquor that you mysteriously found outside of you’re Back-door a few nights ago?”
He smiled, and looked down at Furey as he poured the three glasses to the brim, and said “Why, yes it is, Mr. Campellone, yes it is, and I’m sure that who-ever did it has great taste in this Jerry Drink.”
As Mr. Hardley made his way away from the table, leaving the Schnauppes container on the Table, Furey downed the whole glass, thinking to himself “Prost.”. As he finished, he looked at Wiktor and James, and said “Please, Have some.”
After a few seconds, he Spoke once more. “Well. Mr. Wiktor, If I may assume this is correct, you are from Poland, Yes? I’d also like to learn more about you, then this Quiet fellow, James West, here.”
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