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23 January 2008 @ 09:09 pm
Where: Bastogne
When: December 31, 1944

"Happy fuckin' new year." Gene muttered, scrunching deeper in his coat and looking at his watch; it was almost midnight, which meant it was almost January 1, 1945.

"Is the war gonna be over by this year?"
 
 
Current Mood: coldcold
 
 
08 January 2008 @ 09:59 pm
Where: Bastogne
When: December 24, 1944

Doc huddled in his foxhole, trying to salvage what warmth he could gain from the blankets piled on top of him. He cursed, teeth chattering so hard he feared they would shatter.

"'Berlin by Chrismas'...yeh righ'...we're out here freezin' an' where th' fuck is everybody else? Who's gonna save us now?"

He sighed and looked out at the forest littered with foxholes and splintered trees.

"This ain' wha' I imagined Chrismas was gonna be like."
 
 
Current Mood: coldcold
 
 
01 January 2008 @ 06:23 pm

It has been a quiet day and, with no training for the Company taking place, the men have spent a large part of the day in and around the barracks recovering from last night's festivities-or so he has heard. 

He has yet to run into Nix and, feeling the need to get out of his room after finishing the necessary reports for Sink, he finds himself in the pub once more, this time setting at the bar itself, sipping a glass of water and watching a few Sergeants playing darts in the corner. 

It's rather quiet at the moment and he's not sure if many-orany-of the men will come in tonight. Either way, he's just there for a bit of company.

[ooc: I went ahead and made a new post since some of the last ones have 200+ comments already :) ]

 
 
01 January 2008 @ 07:36 pm
Luckily for the boys, the first of January 1944 was a sunday [OOC: convenient, ne? ^_~] and thus, their post-partying selves were looking forward to a morning of free time, a big lunch and a light afternoon of classroom lessons about navigation, gravity and ballistics.

For many of the men, however, a whole sunday morning was not good enough to sooth the aftermath that was their post-partying selves and hangover seemed to have laid like a thick fog over the cots and the men in them in each and every barrack...
 
 
Current Mood: groggygroggy
 
 
31 December 2007 @ 05:42 pm
It's New Year's eve and instead of have a beautiful, buxom brunette in his arms, Joe's over-starched uniform make it difficult for him to even reach for his beer in camp Toccoa's favourite nearbye pub. Swearing under his breath, Joe curses his rookie's absent-minded lack of attention to how well his boots are polished (which got his pass revoked) and Sobel's terror on him for making him dread his little law-breaking adventure. He'll be damned if he'll spend New Year's in his barracks...
 
 
Current Mood: nervousnervous
 
 
 
27 December 2007 @ 08:28 pm
He's been sitting in his quarters for hours now, struggling to finish the last of the reports he still owes Sink. Sighing loudly, he streches his arms over his head and attempts to stifle a yawn. Staring back down at the papers in front of him, he wonders what the men are doing this evening and realizes he's not going to get any more work done tonight, no matter how much he wishes the opposite were true.

Leaning back in his chair, he debates his options for the evening, trying to come up with something that will distract him from the paperwork at hand. 
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24 December 2007 @ 12:34 am
Where: Bastogne
When: Mid December 1944

Easy arrived in Bastogne to find it in chaos. Other batallions were pulling out, screaming about how they'd all be slaughtered like cattle.

Doc looked on curiously at the retreating men, fidgeting with his hands.

"Wonder why they're all so worked up? It can' be tha' bad, righ'?"

He silently wondered what sort of mess were they getting into, and walked over to some of the retreating troops to beg medical supplies off of them. Gaining bandages, morphine, and scissors, he returned to the small group he had been walking with.

He overheard some of the officers musing about the upcoming mission in Bastogne.

"It's gonna be hell. We're predicting massive casualties.
 
 
Current Mood: scaredscared
 
 
20 December 2007 @ 03:09 pm
Where: Holland, outside.
When: Night

 
Webster leans back against a barn door, looking up at the clear night sky, it's almost ten. He can't seem to sleep, he's trying to write his mother, but can't seem to think of anything to say beyond the usual "I'm Fine, don't worry."
She's always worrying about, although he wishes she wouldn't. He sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose, and pulls out a pen and his notebook, preparing to write some more.
Tags:
 
 
Current Mood: contemplativecontemplative
 
 
29 November 2007 @ 08:25 pm
Location: France

Sargent Talbert put on his poncho and set out to find a replacement to fill in on the line. The night was dark and humid and the rain would periodically spit, which made the ground wet and soggy.

The first foxhole he came across had a few replacements in it and he spotted one he knew by name. "Smith," he knocked on the kid's helmet with the rifle the chief of the Kokomo police had sent him before the Normandy jump. Keeping his voice down, Tab didn't like going above a whisper to wake up the replacement, "Get up, Smith...its your turn-"

Suddenly the kid was wide awake and panicked. Before Tab could say anything, there was a bayonet through his side. "GOD DAM-"

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! THATS TALBERT!" thankfully a voice called out to the replacement and stopped him from continuing to stab Talbert.

"MEDIC!" Tab called out wincing in a great deal of pain. "MEDIC!!!"
 
 
Current Mood: grumpyouchy
 
 
25 November 2007 @ 03:27 pm
[ooc: And because the mun is frazled over the sudden Sobel coming out from the shadows..]

When: Sometime before July 12th
Where: Vierville (Veirvulle sur Mer)

It had been a couple of days since Carentan had fallen for the 101st and just as many since the 5th had helped hold the positions at Pointe du Hoc. Vierville was just one stop of many on their way northwest towards the town of Cherbourg...but Gwen wasn't supposed to know that. Get a few of the officers tipsy enough on the lovely French brandy and anything was a talkable subject. A nights rest in the little town would do them all good before departing in the morning.

Walking along one of the stone walls lead into the town the civilian correspondent sung along to some unheard tune- an Andrews Sister number she had heard on the radio before leaving England. She hoped they were still playing at the USO in London when the Rangers got to go back..However the sounds of trucks in the distance caused her to stop and squint. American troop trucks and when they started to pass she saw the screaming eagle patches as well as a few familiar faces. "Easy Company!" Gwen yelled, waving her arms at the passing trucks before hoping down and racing after them. It ment Denver was there. And Doc Roe, Dick, Webster, Perconte, Luz..and boy were they going to have stories to share!
 
 
Current Music: The Battle- Gladiator