Goodbye Arras Hello Vimy

The BEF leave Arras for the last time. May 1940.

From Arras, "All things considered?" Alice tilts her head. The cat hops out of her pocket, to go sniffing around. He miaos, trotting to sniff at Chevalier. "Ah. That's good," She nods at him. "I haven't seen you in awhile. I'm glad your're alright."

From Arras, In the course of service for his hometown of Arras, Gabriel never actually thought that he'd be helping move people into a Raid shelter. Yet, here he stands, with a box of blankets in his arms, moving this way and that to pull one out and provide it to any who might be short. So much to do, and possibly a small time to do it in, this game of shuffle and supply has become one of 'hurry up and wait', but one that Gabriel has adjusted to in his usual stoic manner. "I am sure we'll be just fine, this is mostly just precautionary" Gabriel assures a woman and her children, before quickly turning away, reminding himself that confession will be in order later.

From Arras, Chevalier smiles and says, "All things considered, the bombing, Arras surrounded, all roads blocked, so I have been living here." He points to the floor of the shelter. "But, I have my health, so yes, things are fine."

From Arras, Is that a Gabriel one hears? Alice turns her head. Ignus is now sniffing vigorously at Chevalier. sniff sniff. Hmmm. That's a pant leg. She nods, "I see. Well, I'm sorry to hear," She comments quietly. But she seems distracted, hearing her husband and turns around to see him with a smile. "Gabriel! I brought the things you asked, what did you want me to bring?" She asks quickly, not minding her kitten is now going to clamber over poor Chevalier.

From Arras, Henrik is among those nearer to Gabriel, when the officer offers those calming assurances and looks away. Quietly, under his breath he mutters, "You're a bad liar, policeman." As Alice hurries up to her husband, the swede mercifully keeps his mouth shut, mutely listening for answer of anything else that might be needed.

From Arras Hospital (16 4), Weiland is barely conscious today, which is an improvement over yesterday's state of utter unconsciousness. Why, he even blinks open his clear blue eyes and stares fixedly at the ceiling now and then, or frown. There's groaning, sure, but there's also grumbling, and grouchiness is a clear sign of health.
From Arras, Chevalier chuckles and pulls the kitten off himself. He gently pets the little thing, scratching behind it's ears.

From Arras Hospital (16 4), Roux is awake, doing a crossword puzzle. There's a can of sardines on his nightstand. He looks thoughtful, hazel eyes narrowed. 5 letter word for … He sighs and puts it down, hearing a groan. « Weiland? » Roux perks up considerably, eyes widening. He smiles. Hopeful.

From Arras, Marcel trots up along the street, taking long strolls from one corner to another before pausing, hands on his hips, to frown at the landscape. His lips purse tight, his brow wrinkles, and he sighs, "My God. My God. Oh dear. This is all terrible. This is all absolutely terrible." the civil servant looks a little dazed as he meanders about, staring with concern at the architecture.

From Arras Hospital (16 4), «My pipe… dirty Germans… name of a dog…» Weiland manifests his interest in the world about him with faintly wheezed rantings, though he can't really do more than a few bursts of words before his breath is spent, a bandaged hand coming up, essaying a salute, then tumbling down again. He groans in pain.

From Arras Hospital (16 4), « No need to salute, I'm a private… » Roux waves it off. « I didn't find your pipe, but I kept some sardines for you, » The radioman notes happily. He seems pleased the other man is alive, if a bit grouchy. « I'm not sure we're allowed to smoke in here, on account of the ether and all, » He tilts his head, peering around. Roux is definitely looking much better, even with the bandages wrapped around his chest.

From Arras Hospital (16 4), It's questionable whether Weiland is hearing Roux at all. He's silent for a long while, and the only place he's looking toward is the ceiling, perhaps because he can't turn his head, perhaps because he's not actually looking at anything in particular. Minutes later, and for no particular reason, he blurts out, «Vive la…» mumble mumble.

From Arras, Gabriel turns slightly as he passes Henrik, and eyes the man for a moment before he mutters in response, "Not much practice." To Alice he turns then, managing a quick smile before he nods slowly. "Have you heard word from the hospital? Are we going to have to house some here for them?" He puts the box of blankets on the floor then, reaching out to wrap an arm around Alice and give her his customary quick kiss. "How're you holding up?"

From Arras, Many of her friends seem to gather here, Alice waves to Henrik. She grins as Ignus purrs from Chevalier's attentions. The cat closes his eyes, extending his claws to make bread. Oh yeeeeeeees. She blinks, "I hear someone outside. He should be careful." Perhaps she's referring to Marcel. And looks to her husband, "I am not sure yet, Miss Christiane hasn't informed me." She mms softly as he kisses her quickly, returning it and giving him a light peck on the cheek. She even hugs him once. "I am well enough, just a bit dazed. And you?" She looks up at Gabriel, keeping up her cheery demeanor, despite things it would seem.

From Arras, Henrik turns an eye away from Gabriel and Alice as the two speak. His gaze catches on the wandering MArcel, toward whom the fellow hollers curtly, "You! Your God says to get in the Shelter. Move!" The words are barked in the loud, curt manner of one accustomed to making himself heard. The motion of one hand directs the stunned frenchman toward the others.

From Arras, Marcel looks up to Henrik and stares at him for a moment, fingers adjusting his glasses. "Oh. Good… good morning." he says first thing, eyes starting to shift about as his head begins to nod, mechanically, "Yes, the shelter, of course of course." he grabs a handkerchief, uses it to dab at the sweat and the dust that's accumulated about his person, and turns his trotting gait towards the shelter entrance, waving the handkerchief-holding hand at the larger man, "Thank you!"

From Arras Hospital (16 4), Weiland's eyes close, and he lies there, dreaming. What is he dreaming of? One never knows, and even his faint whisperings are unclear. «… those boxes of sardines… Germans thieves…»

From Arras, Henrik's french is strongly accented, as he rumbles to the grateful Marcel, "Just get in." Belatedly, as he himself turns to step inside, Henrik notes Alice and nods curtly, in aknowldegment. "If runners come from the hospital, they'll get moved quickly. Try not to worry, mademoiselle."

From Arras Hospital (16 4), It's hard not to giggle a bit, but Roux cautiously sits up, with a pained grunt. Thoughtfully, he moves his can of sardines over to Weiland's nightstand. Then he leans back, to resume his crossword puzzle with a grin. «

From Arras, "Of course, thank you Henrik," She smiles up at him. Alice waves to Marcel, "There's a place to the left there that isn't taken," She offers. "But watch out for the boxes of things," She cautions. Ignus is still loving on Chevalier. She pushes aside a few things, to make room for the fellow. "Did I get blankets?" She rubs the back of her head. True to her blonde nature, it seems Alice has to remind herself of things often. Whoops.

From Arras, Marcel ducks into the shelter, and once inside he removes his gray felt hat and tips it clumsily to the ladies present, taking a few moments to discreetly comb his hair and poorly conceal his ever-expanding baldness. "Good morning. I… I do hope we'll all fit in. Terribly sorry for crowding." he takes careful steps about, often losing his balance as he avoids stepping on anyone or anything.

From Arras, Henrik jerks a thumb toward where Gabriel stands, passing out stacks of the blankets Alice asked about. "Blankets. Right there," he notes without color, before repeating "Try not to worry." Glancing sidelong to the new arrival, he mutters toward Marcel, "Goddamnit, do you always apologize so much?"

From Arras, "Ah!" Alice seems pleased, then! She beams a moment. "Right, what else?" She reaches into her pocket to pull out a list. She offers a smile at Marcel, "Please, it's not your fault. Don't apologize-" She goes quiet as Henrik mutters. Ignus is sniffin' and peerin, it seems. Alice hms softly, reading her list.

From Arras, "Oh I'm sorry." Marcel apologizes. For apologizing. And then he looks apologetically at the others, before carefully lowering himself to a seat, hat clasped in his hands. This time he does not verbalize anything, but he does give a meaningful look to the person at his left and the person at his right, apologizing with his eyes.

From Arras, Henrik grinds his teeth a bit as he turns his eye away from Marcel as the frenchman apologizes. For apologizing. Low words are growled in another language, as he looks outside the shelter. As if the sight of the wasted town will improve his mood.

From Arras Hospital (16 4), Weiland can do little but lie there, and dream, and so he does. They are not peacefully content dreams, sardines or not, and often interrupted with groaning amidst all the grumbling. Still, he's blissfully unaware of anything flying overhead.

From Arras, Alice darts off a moment, and returns with a small box. "Can't forget the lights…" She remarks quietly. She sets them down, away from the people. Ignus has by now, spotted poor Marcel. The orange feline is sniffing at the man, tail a-wriggle. Oooh, a /new/ one! Alice smiles at Henrik, "Did you grab the water supplies or should I?" She asks the man, apparently not minding his grumpiness at all. It just seems to go right past her, like water off a duck.

From Arras, Chevalier smiles and hands the kitten to small girl but not without making it clear that it belongs to Alice. He then takes a seat and turns up his latern and goes about darning a sock. The occasional hushed curse can be heard as he pokes his fingers as much as the material.

From Arras, Henrik eyes Alice and shakes his head. "Don't know about water. Just got here," he mutters, looking around the shelter, and expecting to see a healthy stock of water somewhere or another. "Shouldn't it be here already?" he wonders, frowning anew.

From Arras, "Be careful now." Marcel admonishes the cat with a wagging finger and a small tight smile. Then he looks up, peeping up, "Regulations clearly say any places designated as shelters should be stocked with water at all times, even in peace, and that regular inspections must be made by…" he touches a finger to his forehead and rubs it, thinking. "… someone."

From Arras, "It /should/ be, I've been running around like a chicken with my head cut off," Alice admits. Ignus peeps, making a little squeak noise. A little girl! Oh boy! "Yes, they should be here." She looks around, and blinks, hearing the soft cursing. "If not, I should run quickly and get some," She frowns deeply. "But where…" She looks almost comical peering and

From Arras, Henrik looks back with a brow arched in light surprise as Marcel pipes up with the regulations. "Hrm," he grunts simply. Back to Alice, he motions to the beaurocrat and voices to th nurse, "There, you hear?" Shaking his head at Alice's near-comical efforts, he asks curtly, "Is there chalk? Can mark the boxes. Make it easier, later," as he too sets to looking through the supplies.

From Arras, Chevalier without looking up from his sewing attempts says aloud to the room at large, "There are several metal water cans (tapping a 2 gal. one sitting next to him) in the next shelter over to the east."

From Arras, Chevalier looks up and says, "or west..that way at any rate." pointing.

From Arras, Marcel frowns, and his voice fades down to a quiet mutter, evidently worried about the specific organism charged with conducting the shelter inspections. "I'm quite sure someone must do the inspections. It is in the regulations." he sighs, then looks up again, a hopeful smile on his face, "Surely, if it is in the regulations, there must be water somewhere." his chest swelling with confidence in French republican bureaucracy.

From Arras, "Of course," She smiles. Horray for the beaurocrat! "Thank you," She nods. "And yes, actually. That seems wise," Alice beams up at Henrik. The woman seems settled then, now that no one's in danger of shrivelling up. She is letting her feline friend go run amok with the little girl and her friends then. "Um, who can inspect then?" Alice tilts her head. She herself is simply a silly seamstress turned volunteer nurse after all.

From Arras, Henrik comments flatly, "Yes, of course its impossible for regulations to be overlooked during a war.." but then the water cans are tapped, spotted and more are mentioned. The beaurocrat is proved correct for the moment, and the foreigner simply mutters under his breath. "Goddamnit."

From Arras, Harris walks down the street, a truck buzzing along just behind, at walking speed in the crowds. With Bailey presumably somewhere nearby, and orders in his hand. "Get that truck up as close as you can." he orders, the flunky inside reversing it practically up the hospital steps, in defiance of parking permits.

From Arras, Bailey is walking after Harris, a bit to the side and behind with a frown on his forhead. Seeing the town isn't making him any happier. He avoids looking at civilian faces, specially avoiding eye contact.

From Arras, "Do you hear that? Sounds like a truck," Alice peers out, apparently distracted easily like a ferret. Silly Alice. The woman blinks, noticing Bailey's frown and tilts her head. She seems curious, watching the thing go by. Apparently her job is forgotten for the moment.

From Arras, Mitchell is walking along behind the other two looking wide eyed at everything.

From Arras, Marcel is inside the shelter of course, huddled in a corner, hat in hands, trying not to sweat. "I suppose it is… perhaps the fire department? Or the army? Or… perhaps someone at the town hall?" he guesses, but it's clear the poor man's not sure, and this troubles him. Overhearing Henrik's remark, he lifts his head and retorts, not too firmly, and certainly not rudely, but determined enough to make a point, "France must continue to function, Monsieur. The regulations are especially important in times of war."

From Arras, Underwood is already by the hospital entrance, ordered here to do whatever he was ordered to. He's just looking off into the distance over the houses at the skyline, not really noticing any civilians here right now.

From Arras, Henrik turns his head to regard the annoyingly correct Marcel. "And how much longer do you think the bomb shelter supplies will matter, hrm? How much longer do you think the fascists will be bombing Arras?" Following Alice's look at the truck and men of the BEF mobilizing, a weary frown twists his expression. "Not much longer, at all," he mutters.

From Arras, Harris salutes Bailey, Mitchell and Underwood, the front is far enough away for military courtesy, and passes them some papers from his sheaf. "We need everybody out of the hospital and into the truck. No matter what their medical status. 1st platoon soldiers first, and then if you can fit anybody else in who needs a ride, them too.".

From Arras, Bailey gives Harris a crisp and correct salute back, pulling up to his full height. He takes the paper and looks it over briefly. "Yes, Sir!" he announces and turns about without questions, looking somewhat more happy as he marches into the hospital.

From Arras, Mitchell snaps to attention and returns the salute as proper as possible, and he too retorts, "Yes, sir!" and promptly follows Bailey into the hospital.

From Arras, Underwood salutes back, compared to Bailey it looks like utter crap, and he turns around to start dragging the wounded out to the waiting comfortable truck.

From Arras, "I see," Alice replies quietly. She at least acknowledges Marcel, but she's distracted. Her heart is racing a bit. "Where …" She pauses, "They really are going aren't they?" She asks, her voice soft and almost shaking. She seems perturbed, despite her normally cheery self.

From Arras Hospital (16 4), Mitchell goes about the task of locating soilders of 1st Platoon and those caple of moving on their own he sends out towards the truck.

From Arras, Harris watches the three minions head into the hospital, and then walks slowly over to the truck, leaning against the passenger side door, and watching whats left of the division here in the process of doing similar things to what he is doing, with somewhat blank eyes, gazing off into space, and lost in his own thoughts.

From Arras Hospital (16 4), Bailey marches inside together with Mitchell and Underwood, but soon as he's inside and no longer in sight of the captain, he slouches and relaxes a bit. He looks for a doctor and finds one and waves the papers around, trying to explain the situation.

From Arras Hospital (16 4), Roux blinks, seeing people come in. The Frenchman takes a deep breath, then with a grunt sits upright. « What's going on? » He asks, trying not to wince. Stupid chest wound. Nature's little slaps.

From Arras Hospital (16 4), Weiland is lying there, bandaged just about from head to toe, and faintly delirious. Fortunately, the bandages don't look bloody, which must be a good sign, except for his red-stained bandaged hands. He grumbles, and groans.

From Arras, Marcel gives his spectacles a nudge and looks back down at the lining of his hat. "I don't know, Monsieur. Yet we must continue to function, whatever happens, we must keep things running as they should, we must avoid anarchy, even now. Especially now, Monsieur. I am confident we need only hold out a while, the reserves of France are surely mustering as we speak." he tries to smile and sound as confident as he says he is.

From Arras Hospital (16 4), Underwood lights a cigarette pretty much as soon as he comes inside, looking around while keeping an eye on Bailey, it looked like he had some kind of papers afterall. And he sure does.

From Arras Hospital (16 4), Jones has a patch of gauze on one side of his face where a bullet broke his jaw, another arm is bandages in two places, and one leg is propped up. The wounds are minor enough to allow him to grin as he spots and calls toward, the newly arrived soldiers, "Whats all this, then?"

From Arras Hospital (16 4), "Oui, leaving. Yes, ALL 1st platoon," Bailey tries to explain to a doctor that doesn't look very happy at all. "Bah, we're evacuating the wounded. Alright? E-Vac-U-Ating." He waves to Underwood. "There's some in here, let's get them out." He heads into the room with Jones, Roux and Weiland inside. "Cheer up, boys! You're going home."

From Arras Hospital (16 4), Mitchell over eager as usual set about his task without delay and now finds himself trying to explain it to a very animated nurse who does not speak english, and naturally Mitchell does not speak french.

From Arras Hospital (16 4), Underwood shuffles in after Bailey, "Sorry mate" he mutters to Jones, although he doesn't sound sorry at all, not happy either for that matter, "A nice bed is too good for a soldier, got a truck waiting outside."

From Arras Hospital (16 4), Blink. Blink blink. Roux pauses. "Home …?" But aren't the Germans right outside? He looks confused, but at least he's sitting up now. He looks to Weiland, his buddy in arms, even if he doesn't agree on the edible qualities of sardines. He takes a deep breath. "Okay…"

From Arras Hospital (16 4), Bailey shakes his head to Roux. "Sorry mate, 1st platoon first, then if you fit, we're taking you along too." He says it bluntly and directly, not wanting to beat around the bush about it. He goes to start moving Jones, ignoring the protests of a nurse.

From Arras, "Anarchy isn't what you need to worry about," Henrik comments idly to Marcel's proper reply. "But then again, avoiding anarchy is simpler than avoiding fascism." After another moment, he mutters to Alice, "Looks like. Claring out the hospital. You know what thay means."

From Arras, Anarchy? The New Order is coming!

From Arras Hospital (16 4), « He thinks we're driving off to England in a hurry » Underwood explains in french, nodding his head towards Bailey at the same time, but when the nurse starts to protest his French suddenly leaves him and doesn't seem to understand a word as he starts gathering up some clothes and equipment belonging to the soldiers getting kicked out.

From Arras, "Hopefully," Is Alice's reply to Marcel. She seems a bit less hopeful about it. Especially given she's seen what the Germans can and are happy to do. She looks to Henrik, frowning and nodding. While she may be a bit flaky and bright and cheery and all, she's far from stupid. Her blue eyes squint a bit. "I know, but I don't want to know," She confesses quietly.

From Arras Hospital (16 4), Jones forces a crooked grin, that doesnt quite reach past the surface. Offering up his healthy arm for a hand is standing up. "A truck, is it? Someone's lucky day, this is. I half thought they'd pack us onto donkeys." Hobbling a bit, but walkable on his own, the little soldier gets moving in as timely a manner as he can.

From Arras Hospital (16 4), Roux's english isn't exactly what one calls perfect. Which might explain his confusion, but he simply sits acceptingly then. "Okay," He echoes again. He does seem to be gathering his things just in case. « I see, thank you. I didn't quite understand, » He admits. As he readies himself though, he thoughtfully tucks away a can of sardines into his things.

From Arras Hospital (16 4), Mitchell walks over to help Bailey with the nurse hot on his heels still jabbering. He smiles weakly at Bailey, "Need help getting him outside?" His question sounded as much like a plea for help as it did an offer to help.

From Arras Hospital (16 4), "Looks like the lance corp can walk on his own," Bailey says with a lopsided smile at Jones, talking to Mitchell. "But get those out." He points to a few other wounded ones that definitely can't walk that lie nearby. (NPCs). He then leans in and says quietly to Jones: "Squeeze yourself in the truck, lance. We're packing in as many as we can, if it means having to cling to the truck." He glances pointedly at Roux and Weiland, at that.

From Arras, Marcel sighs into his hat, "People must work to eat, to live, and one must have order for these things, Monsieur." he sounds rather disconsolate about his precious order being enforced by the Germans, alas. Looking up, he glances towards the shelter exit and mutters, "One cannot blame them."

From Arras, Manitowabi comes in from the front, bringing a crate of ammo hefted onto one shoulder along with a bit of miscellaneous gear. "Only the sergeant left behind me." he grunts.

From Arras Hospital (16 4), Underwood mostly just piles peoples belongings into a big sack, they can fight over the contents later, it will be like Christmas. "That small church sure did look nice" he throws out there as he pauses for a moment, then helps someone who has been lucky enough not to get hit in the legs up.

From Arras Hospital (16 4), Jones glances back at the frenchman, before forcing another awkward grin and noting quietly back to Bailey, "I'll hang onto the roof if we need it." Looking back at Weiland, he complains, "This is all his fault- all that talk of sardines, now we're to be packed in like them!"

From Arras Hospital (16 4), Weiland can't really respond, not coherently. The commotion seems to stir him out of his fitful opiate sleep just long enough to blink, eyes shifting about. His lips move, his limbs twitch weakly, sketch an attempt at motion, then stretch out again with a grunted exhalation.

From Arras, Harris salutes Manitowabi. "Just in time. We have orders from the CO to move to Vimy with all haste. We're one of the last companies still here. The truck might be crowded, though.".

From Arras Hospital (16 4), Mitchell nods and looks towards where Bailey pointed and heads that direction. The nurse now having spotted someone else to bark at. Mitchell walks up to a lad (npc) who is in particularly bad shape and kneels down beside his cot, "Good news for you, what. We be taking you fellas out of here. Got a truck outside to haul you off, you'll be home before you know it. (standing) That's a good lad now, let me help you." Mitchell helps the man up and half-walks/half-carries him out to the truck.

From Arras, Manitowabi returns the salute, quickly, seeing the senior officer. He nearly drops the crate at the suddenness. "Supplies on board too, sir?" Nodding his head to indicate the ammo crate and the flare, satchel charge, and other gear within it.

From Arras Hospital (16 4), Jones chuckles with a wince as he hobbles out of the hospital, sparing a few quick parting words with a couple of the hospital attendants.

From Arras Hospital (16 4), « I can walk, it's just my chest that is hurt, » Roux offers. « But - » He seems worried, looking to Weiland. He tucks his favorite things into his pockets, and stands. Whoa, A bit wobbly after a couple of days of bedrest. He blinks. Whoops. « I think they are moving us, need some help? » He holds out a hand for Weiland, or his forearm too.

From Arras, Harris shakes his head. "Only if we can fit it in, men are more important than material.".

From Arras Hospital (16 4), "Let's get this show on the road!" Bailey says, not wanting to dawdle. The nurse is still protesting to deaf ears. He just gives her a toothy grin and begins wheeling out a wounded soldier. He pauses to look at the french soldiers. "Wait, we'll come get you," he promises grimly. "We'll fit you in." And with that, he heads on out with the first 'batch' of wounded.

From Arras, (From Truck #17288) Jones is among the men leaving the hospital with mostly intact legs. Others are helped along, or carried on stretchers. With his speech hampered by a bandage and the borken jaw beneath it, he mumbles with a crooked grin, "Come on now.. in tight. Pretend we're sardines.." as he shuffles into the bed of the truck.

From Arras, "I suppose not, but it's still not a happy feeling." What feeling? Abandonment? Hoplessness? Alice isn't saying. She understands, more than she'd like to. She just takes a breath. "Hopefully they make it at least," She peers out around the corner.

From Arras, Manitowabi grunts low, and turns to lower himself, setting the crate down here where the French can make use of it. "Yes, sir." quietly, as if the news is not very inspiring. He rises once more to reach for the hook on the truck's rear bed to pull himself in.

From Arras, Harris looks over the hospital as the wounded start coming out. "Lance Corporal!" he says, calling out to Underwood. "You did a demolitions course before the war, no?" he asks him.
From Arras, Bailey wheels out a wounded soldier, noticeably not a French one. Not a single french one is being moved yet. He heads to the truck to load up the wounded. "Squeeze in in there!" he calls, having found some authority from somewhere though he really doesn't have any. He seems adamant on fitting as many as possible in though.

From Arras, Mitchell emerges from the hopstial half-walking/half-carrying another wounded BEF man. with the help of others he manages to get the man up into the truck.

From Arras, Henrik doesn't look to Alice or Marcl as he answers, the man's narrow blue regard remaining on the truck and men of the BEF. "So it goes," he mutters colorlessly. After another moment, he steps to leave the bomb shelter.

From Arras, "Yes sir", Underwood tosses the sack of personal belongings and other goodies into the truck, it will fit on the hood if nothing else, he takes a step closer to Harris, as questions like that are usually followed by some sort of order.

From Arras Hospital (16 4), Unfortunately it seems that Weiland is still too dazed to be able to do much about his prone state. He holds up a hand, wrapped in a mitten of bloody bandages, barely able to grab onto anything, and gives it a useless swing through the air before letting it flop onto his side. «What?» a creaky sound issues from his parched and cracked lips.

From Arras, Rupert walks up the street, having come from the line. He proceeds to the trucks to check up on the process of the evacuation.

From Arras, Duncan trots along behind Rupert, the hulking Scotsman of far greater size than his slender commanding officer. He holds a Lee Enfield with an attached bayonet in his hands, a watchful gleam in his slate gray eyes. He's chewing something in the side of his mouth.

From Arras, Bailey helps along with lifting for a moment, and seeing that there's still some room after packing in wounded, he's heading back inside to get another round of them.
From Arras, Bailey has left.
From Arras Hospital (16 4), Bailey has arrived.

From Arras, (From Truck #17288) Manitowabi nods to Jones as he steps past him to take a seat within the cab, positioning himself beside where the driver will sit. "Lance Corporal" recognizing the man's rank.

From Arras Hospital (16 4), Roux pauses, and offers his water canteen over to Weiland, « Are you thirsty first? They are moving the wounded out… British first, » He replies. He looks nervous. His hazel eyes are squinted a bit, and he's trying to hide the pit in his stomach.

From Arras, Harris heads around the back of the truck to collect some satchel charges from Manitowabi, before handing them over to Underwood. "The only weapon in the town from our company is that antiaircraft gun. Take these, make sure it doesn't fall into Nazi hands… and get back here, as quick as you can.".

From Arras Hospital (16 4), Bailey returns as he promised. A group of nurses and doctors are staring at the going ons. Not much they can do, though some wounded should definitely not be moved. Bailey heads directly to where Roux and Weiland are. "Alright, you're next!" he calls and points at them.

From Arras, (From Truck #17288) Jones nods and tosses off a jaunty salute to the "Private. You going to be out chauffer today?" Looking back as he squeezes in tighter, "Come on, theres more room still.. I'm skinny."

From Arras, As Henrik walks out of the bomb shelter, Marcel rubs at his chin and, after muttering soft apologies to both persons at his side, climbs back to his feet. For a moment it looks like he's about to fall over, but his thin legs manage to find some stability, and he advances towards the entrance to peek out.

From Arras Hospital (16 4), Mitchell says, "They aren't waiting, if these two are going, they need to go now." He looks about the room.

From Arras, (From Truck #17288) Manitowabi shakes his head, "Not a driver." muttered as he climbs out from the passenger's seat to join the Lance Corporal int he back after a quick half-hearted salute. He nods again as he takes a seat back there.

From Arras, Underwood grabs the charges and jogs off for the AT gun, wrecking stuff isn't that hard, an explosion later and he comes jogging back. Not too eager to be left behind probably.

From Arras, Henrik calls curtly, his deep, even voice clear and distinct as he calls toward Rupert, "Lieutenant!" Slow, unhurried steps bear his further from the civilian shelter, and closer to the British troops.

From Arras, Rupert tosses off a spastic salute to Harris, calling out, "What's the plan, sir? Are we advancing to new positions?" He blinks as he's adressed by Henrik, offering the other a careful nod. "What can I do for you?"
From Arras Hospital (16 4), Bailey is already moving over to Roux and Weiland to get them moved out, nodding at Mitchell.

From Arras, Alice stays near Marcel, peeping out of the shelter. She watches with wide eyes, that seem disbelieving. « Careful of that step, » She nods at Marcel, smiling politely. Then back to watching. « I am nervous… » She admits quietly.

From Arras Hospital (16 4), The pit in Weiland's own stomach is thankfully concealed by the bandages, and hopefully sewn up properly. That bandaged hand rises shakily for the canteen, but he can't grab it, though he does pat it once or twice. «What?» he coughs out the word again, and his pale eyes drift towards the sound of British voices.

From Arras, Duncan trots along behind Rupert in an obedient manner, the burly Scotsman seeming to have nothing better to do than shadow his lieutenant. He turns around to regard Henrik, narrowing his gaze at the approaching civilian, yet not unkindly so. He casually spits onto the side of the road.

From Arras Hospital (16 4), « Yessir! » Roux nods, then winces. He will reach over, tilting the canteent to let a bit of water dribble onto Weiland's lips and hopefully enough for him to get a sip. D'oh, oh that chest of his. He will take Weiland's hand then, « They are leaving now. We have to move, I'm sorry. Lean on me and we'll be out in no time huh? » A weak grin. « Leaving now, » He repeats, closing his canteen.

From Arras, "We're retreating to Vimy Ridge, Rupert… we're the rearguard, lucky us. 3rd platoon are getting chewed up right now, the sooner we're in Vimy, the sooner they get some rest." Harris tells Rupert bleakly. "So act lively. The truck is going to be cramped.".

From Arras Hospital (16 4), "Get a damn wheelchair," Bailey tells Mitchell, moving to help support Weiland as gently as he can. "Sorry," he tells the two French, though it's doubtful they understand him. "We got to hurry. Allez, allez," he adds, knowing at least that much.

From Arras Hospital (16 4), Mitchell nods and scampers across the room and comes back wheeling a chair, "'ere we go then!" he says cheerily to the frenchman.

From Arras, "So much for going home" Underwood mutters, as Bailyes earlier statements had somewhere lit a small hope in him, he digs out yet another cigarette to have a smoke before it's time to get on the road, listening to the captain and the lt at the same time.

From Arras, Henrik waits for Rupert to answer Harris before speaking himself.

From Arras Hospital (16 4), The tip of Weiland's tongue comes out to taste the water on his lips, and his throat emits a rumble. Satisfaction, perhaps? He rises at last once he's propped up, though that gets a rather sharp groan out of the man. Finally he manages to squint a blue eye at the Brits, swivelling his gaze around from Bailey to Mitchell. He nods faintly, and starts shifting his wrapped up legs over towards the edge of the bed, trying to roll out of it.

From Arras, "Are we going to have armour support there? If not, then I'd like to bring along the 88 from our old positions. Our two pounders are useless against the StuGs." Rupert speaks to Harris. He doesn't sound delighted about being assigned as the rear guard, but doesn't voice his displeasure to the CO. After all, it wouldn't do much good.

From Arras Hospital (16 4), Bailey is losing patience, or he's worried the truck is going to leave without them, so he leans down to almost lift Weiland out of the bed and onto the wheelchair, grunting at the weight but being strong enough to pull it off. Without another word he starts pushing the chair.

From Arras Hospital (16 4), Mitchell takes Weilands elbow and helps him into the wheelchair jabbering on as if the man understands him, "That's a sport, just a bit further now, there we go. Hang-on lad, she's a bumpy ride, what!"

From Arras Hospital (16 4), Roux nods, as Weiland seems to get most of the water. He stands, putting his canteen away. He seems reluctant to part from his friend, awash in a sea of english speakers. « See you in the truck, » He murmurs. Roux shuffles out, finally slipping his jacket back on. There's a nice little hole where he got shot. He doesn't stick around!

From Arras, Underwood clears his throat, leaning in a bit closer to Rupert to mutter, "It was out of ammo, I wrecked it."

From Arras, Duncan aims his chin towards Underwood before rumbling to Rupert in what is an hideous Glasgwegian accent, "We dun spiked it suh. Yeh can caul it foggy oats." Which is his incomprehensible addition to Underwood's explanation.

From Arras, Bailey comes back out after a few minutes, together with Roux, Weiland and Mitchell. Weiland, who's badly off, is wheeled out on a wheelchair in a rush that probably isn't good for someone in his condition. "Two more!" he calls out, desperately wanting that truck to wait a few more minutes.

From Arras, Marcel brushes a hand back through his disappearing hair and turns to offer Alice a sympathetic smile, reaching out to touch her shoulder with the lightest of contacts, trying in some way to be comforting, «We all are, Mademoiselle. It is normal.» he nods, quickly withdraws his hand, and returns to staring out, dabbing at his lenses with a corner of his handkerchief. «We shall endure this.»

From Arras, Mitchell helps Roux along.

From Arras, Harris spreads his hands. "Possibly, Rupert… I hear that most of 1st Armoured tanks have either had it or are being used elsewhere.". He turns to frown at Bailey when he hears shouting. "Private, when the sun is up more fully the Luftwaffe will be out in force. Hurry up.".

From Arras, Roux smiles weakly, looking to Weiland. He hesitates a moment, to see if it is indeed, okay to take his spot on the truck. In english, he pauses and looks to Mitchell. "Thank … you," His accent is as heavy as the cast of the View after a chocolate binge. He understands Harris though, and with a gasp, clambers up. Stupid … chest muscles!

From Arras, Henrik stands at a short distance from where Rupert and Harris speak. Briefly, he regards the scotsman, before looking back to the officers. Back straight, head high and boots at shoulder width, the big foreigner waits at something not unlike 'at ease'.

From Arras, Alice smiles at Marcel, « I hope so. » A nod. The woman doesn't flinch away as he touches her shoulder. She just accepts it quietly. Thankfully. Duncan's speech gets him a confused look from the woman. But she falls quiet, to watch this whole thing. « Did he say Lufftwaffe…? » Oh dear. She just takes a deep breath.

From Arras, (From Truck #17288) Manitowabi waits in the back of the truck, keeping quiet now with a check of his rifle.
From Arras, A good four-fifths of Weiland are solidly mummified in bandages, though they are clean, for the most part bloodless. The bumpy wheelchair ride causes him to groan frequently, and his wrapped hands try to reach out, as if to hold onto something. But he's alive, and beginning to mutter in wheezy French, «Where? Where?» his blue eyes squinting confusedly about.

From Arras, Mitchell helps Roux climb up into the truck, "There you go! That's a good lad!" He then steps back out of the way.

From Arras, "I hope you like tea, cause you're going to England I bet," Bailey tells Weiland quietly. The French soldier might recognize the word 'England', at least. He helps him as gently as he can to get inside the truck.
From Arras, (From Truck #17288) Manitowabi nods to the French army soldat as he climbs aboard to join, making sure there's room available for him and other wounded.

From Arras, Wallace comes into the square of this town, hand hastily bandaged, and looking quite the bit banged up, dirty and bruised. Still, he's carrying his gear on his back, and his legs seem fine, so he's doing what he can to hurry other soldiers along. "We've cleared maybe half of the hospital, sir." Apparently this is to whichever officer (Rupert or Harris) feels like hearing it.

From Arras, (From Truck #17288) Roux manages to look out, keeping an eye out for his friend. « England … huh, » He blinks a few times. Roux seems bewilded by the idea. Still, he keeps ready to pounce, to keep near any fellow Frenchies. It's tough when you don't speak the language isn't it. He's trying to take up as little space as he can.

From Arras, Rupert nods. "In that case, I want us to take along the 88. So, just wounded being pulled out for now." He nods to Wallace, "Good job, sergeant. We need to take the Hunn gun from our positions when we pull out." He glances at Henrik, "Can we help you with something?"

From Arras, Henrik eyes Rupert, once it becomes clear he isnt speaking over the words of Harris. Military protocol extends to civilians, he knows all too well. Expression grim and glowering, he draws a slow breath. In curt, rough english, he states, "Last communication line will close when English go. Have a letter for Swedish embassy in England. Can send letter with you?"
From Arras, Weiland can barely help himself into the truck, but he does his best to assist others in lifting him up, though he can't help but moan and groan and spit the occasional obscenity as he's finally slumped into a free corner of truck floor, before passing out again.

From Arras, Duncan glances around the staging area, a thoughtful gleam in his slate eyes before his attention finally settles on Henrik again. He rumbles to himself as if in reflection, "By wi't, tis suith."

From Arras, (From Truck #17288) Manitowabi mutters in French, of the Quebecois manner, « Maybe they need me to help with that 88 FlaK gun. Was told to get on board. »

From Arras, Harris shakes his head at Rupert. "No, we're all going. Wounded first, is all. We really should have left yesterday, but I think Lord Gort was a little optimistic about 1st Armoured.". He then eyes Henrik for a moment, and then back to Rupert a bit meaningfully. Hey, I don't know him. You deal with him!

From Arras, Harris eyes Wallace. "/Half/?". Wrong answer, Sergeant.

From Arras, (From Truck #17288) Jones hears the emphasized 'Half??' from outside and gives a low "Uh-oh. Tighter, get in tighter," before forcing levity in his words to Manitowabi, "Dont think getting in or out is very easy now, eh?"

From Arras, (From Truck #17288) Manitowabi grunts and scoots over tighter forward and against the side, near the metal of the cab.

From Arras, "The rest aren't ambulatory." Is Wallace's only answer, and its death sentence-like tone, he takes a few steps away to use his good arm to help another soldier into the truck. before looking back to Harris. "This's good's we're gonna get."

From Arras, "I still don't understand how 1st armoured managed to lose most of their tanks. Christ Mike, those Matildas are moving fortresses. I don't blame Lord Gort for being optimistic." Rupert, looks at Henrik, before murmuring, "I excpect that'll be fine. Military protocol requires that it go through the censors, though, so as long as you don't mind that." He eyes the hospital, and murmurs, "I feel like half of the BEF is WIA."

From Arras, (From Truck #17288) Roux sticks near his passed out friend, thoughtfully propping the poor fellow up so he doesn't get stepped on, if no one else has or the man is unable to. Roux looks around, « Dear god, if I am bad and go to hell, please don't let it be sardine hell, » He prays quietly.

From Arras, Underwood drifts away from the sirs, nudging Bailey, "Bet we're going to end up jogging after this thing before it's all said and done."

From Arras, Marcel blinks at the street, and shakes his head slowly, glancing for a moment at Alice, «I did not hear. I should hope… I should hope they will cease bombing us when the army is gone, at least.» he sighs and tucks his handkerchief back inside his jacket, «At least until the main force of the French arrives. We must prepare for that.» a small brief nod, a smile, trying to keep his spirits up and trust in the inexhaustible strategic reserves of France.

From Arras, Bailey is rushing towards the hospital, as if hoping he can find someone else, no matter how packed the truck is.

From Arras, Duncan turns his head to spit on the street, his bushy reddish-gold mustache drooping. He seems to agree with Rupert's sentiments. "Aye, litty, at's pish."

From Arras, « Maybe, » Alice replies. She scoops up her cat, who has wandered back. Now the two are watching the soldiers, feline and owner. « They look packed in there, » She notes quietly. It's a distraction at least, to watch the spectacle.

From Arras, Henrik nods curtly once. "I expected that," he mutters, the notion of military censors failing to cause any offense or indignation. The big man reaches into a pocket and draws out a folded, sealed envelope, a bit the worse for wear. The paper article is handed to Rupert with a curt nod. "Thanks, for that." Expression still grim, he nods curtly once to Duncan, before walking away from the soldiers.

From Arras, Gabriel moves past the rushing Army men, spotting Henrik speaking with a few men carrying the decoration of officers on their uniforms. He watches the interchange for a moment, making a note of the faces of both Rupert and Harris before turning to move toward the air raid shelter.

From Arras, Duncan nods right back to Henrik in an companionable way. Or at least as friendly as a sober Scotsman gets on such short notice.

From Arras, (From Truck #17288) Manitowabi seems to be pressing hard into the back of the cab from where the soldiers are packed into the bed of the truck. Jaw clenched tight, he's hugging the British rifle close to his squat body.

From Arras, Mitchell stands at the ready near the back of the truck.

From Arras, "Breakdowns, Rupert… not to mention Stukas. At least so I presume, I've never served in an armoured company. I want to know where the bloody RAF is." Harris says a bit sourly. "Not in France, thats for sure. Useless flyboys. Not like they really tell a lowly captain what is going on though. The CO looked a bit more animated today, the BEF aren't taking French orders anymore. He's already in Vimy.".

From Arras, Harris then nods at Wallace. "Get into the truck, Sergeant. Maybe there'll be time for another run.". Got to keep morale up and all.

From Arras, Underwood looks over towards the air raid shelter before drifting to the other side of the truck to dissapear from view, he leans against one of the tires, not in a hurry to jump in the packed truck.

From Arras, Rupert nods to Henrik, giving the envelope a customary examination before tucking it carefully into a pocket of his battle dress jacket. He eyes Duncan, trying to wonder what on earth the Scot are saying, before tuning in on Harris. "Oh well. Armour usually isn't there when you need it either, so I want us to have some AT potential of our own. And yes, it looks like the Luftwaffe is holding the skies." Rupert looks up grimly. He calls out, "Allright, everyone start getting in! Don't tell me there isn't room, you chaps just want to lie around comfortably in there."
From Arras, Mitchell calls out "Yes Sir!" and does his best to fit in the truck.

From Arras, Alice smiles, as Gabriel comes back. Her dear husband! Ignus is being held in her arms, and she's peering around still. Curious git. « Well, hopefully… » She trails off, sighing a little. She just shrugs it off. They'll endure right? Right. She pauses, « Did we need anything else here? » She asks Gabriel quietly.

From Arras, Duncan rumbles towards Rupert, his heavily Glasgwegian accented voice seeming in agreeement, "Awricht." He looks over the truck, looking for some place to clamber aboard. He pauses long enough outside to help his lieutenant up.
From Arras, Rupert shakes his head silently, pointing at the driver's door. It's all good and fine for him to ask his men to squeeze in like sardines when he's going to have the shotgun seat all to himself.

From Arras, (From Truck #17288) Manitowabi keeps silent, now rather tightly wound for some reason. It's not just the packing of the men into the bed of the transport truck, as others are withstanding that well enough. The Canadian artillerist is staring at the frame, eyes fixed in an almost pathic focus.

From Arras, (From Truck #17288) Roux is quiet, squinching up as small as he can, sticking near any other wounded Frenchies.
From Arras, Rupert calls out, "Underwood, we're not leaving without you! Hut hut!"

From Arras, Harris moves over to the rear of the truck, giving some verbal encouragement. "Everybody into the truck! There are men fighting on the front right now to give you a chance to get out of here, they all want a rest, and they aren't getting it until we're in Vimy.".

From Arras, Underwood swings up at the back of the truck as he doesn't want to stall this thing any longer.

From Arras, (From Truck #17288) Manitowabi mutters low, hearing the word. The darker man simply repeats it in the manner of a prophet, "Vimy." The word holds deep meaning for some Canadians, it seems.

From Arras, (From Truck #17288) Duncan reaches up to seize hold of a strap in the truck, hauling himself abord. The big Scotsman keeps himself steady with one hand while holding his Enfield in the other. He lifts this towards Harris in an respectful manner, albeit muttering, "Aye, right." He is starting to feel like a target, what with Luftwaffe in the air, and him in this juicy moving bullseye.

From Arras, Henrik walks with the same unhurried, deliberate gait back toward the bomb shelter, expression grim. He regards Gabriel and Alice upon entry, glancing aside to Marcel, before stating evenly. "Thats it."

From Arras, Rupert turns around, staring at the Arras citizens in the square. He mutters quietly to himself, "We will be back." And then he jumps into the passenger's seat in the truck.

From Arras, (From Truck #17288) Mitchell is at the very back of the truck, he simply stares at the civilians gathered about.

From Arras, (From Truck #17288) Harris is apparently driving, as he knows the way. "There is an aid station ready in Vimy to receive us.".

From Arras, (From Truck #17288) Harris puts it in gear!


(From Truck #17288) Mitchell stares at the Vimy Memorial as the truck drives past.

(From Truck #17288) Duncan grunts, hanging onto a leather strap just inside the truck, his arse resting on the rear barrier. He spits something dark outside onto the dust of Arras.

Harris climbs out of the truck as soon as it stops moving, after a hurried, but fortunately uneventful, journey. "Alright, get the wounded out first.".
«Ground Vehicles» Underwood gets out of Truck.

«Ground Vehicles» Rupert gets out of Truck.

Underwood slips out from the truck when it comes to a stop, looking around to try to get some kind of sense of direction up here.

(From Truck #17288) Manitowabi can't see the memorial from where he's packed, but all the same when he hears words muttered and fingers pointed as the truck passes by, he frowns even deeper.

Rupert moves out of the truck, walking to the rear barrier. He slings it down, calling out, "Allright, out you come!"

(From Truck #17288) Mitchell jumps down from the truck and starts helping the wounded.

«Ground Vehicles» Mitchell gets out of Truck.

(From Truck #17288) Manitowabi shakes out of his trance, and sucks in a deep breath as he turns to rise and stand to exit the bed of the vehicle with the other men. Only a mild frown remains, one more of getting down to business.

(From Truck #17288) Roux sticks near Weiland awhile, before he too is hustled on out. Right in front of Duncan. The Frenchman just kind of … stares at the Scotsman. Ehehehe… He has a bit of trouble, wincing as his chest bends. But he seems to be one of the more mobile wounded.

Harris indicates an otherwise normal looking cottage with a grimy Red Cross flag fluttering in the breeze outside. "Rupert, make sure the wounded are transferred to the local medical facilities - and then we need to start talking about deployments. Jerry will be here soon enough.".

Mitchell helps Jones down to the ground level, "'ere ya go lad, nice and easy does it. Right that way!" he says guiding the man towards the aid station.

(From Truck #17288) Wallace has his eyes locked on the memorial as the other soldiers clamber out of the truck. It takes the jostling of a nearby soldier ready to move to break his trance, demons of the past still swimming in his mind's eye as he blearily moves toward the back of the truck. With one wounded hand tucked against his chest, he steps down, his good arm shooting out to provide some sort of balance as he lands.

Duncan regards Roux with something of a grin, his bushy reddish gold mustaches and sideburns making it almost malevolent. "Eith, laddy, watch yer bawbags."

Rupert nods to Harris, passing the shit along, "Sergeant Wallace! Make sure that the wounded are transferred to that aid station!" He points at the cottage.

Mitchell calls over, "Get some help with this one what! He's not looking too good that!" referring to Weiland.

Underwood isn't really wounded, well, isn't wounded enough to get some rest, so he slings his rifle over his shoulder and waits for orders on where to dig. That's usually how it starts.

Peter looks upwards just a little as the orders are given, and hobbles off towards the aid station himself. He's hissing like a tire losing air every time he is forced to put his weight on his wounded leg.

Manitowabi looks around for a moment, "Do we have an antitank gun already deployed here? A 2-pdr maybe?" He doesn't have a great view from the low road crowded with French homes, though.

"Sir!" Wallace responds, then begins to point out less wounded soldiers. "Underwood, Manitowabi, help those that need it into the medical station." Wallace himself moves to do the same, offering his good arm to Weiland.

Manitowabi nods, "Yes, Sergeant." to respond, and steps to look around for a moment to help as a stretcher bearer.

Mitchell motions two medics (NPC's) and their stretcher over to where Weiland is, "Here lads, lets carry this one in shall we?" He nods to Wallace as he helps unload Weiland.

Weiland needs to be helped out of the truck, not yet having gained control of his body to do much more than attempt to scoot and make himself easy to carry. At least he's awake again, it seems, and staring out at the landscape around him with bright eyes, «England?» he's a little confused still.

Underwood is lost in his own little world for a moment, looking down at the grass field south before his brain registers what Wallace said, and he busies himself with dragging some wounded inside.

Llywelyn groans, from where he lays. He's still rather a mess. He just waits for a stretcher bearer to cart him somewhere.

Rupert sidles closer to Harris, looking around, "So where is 1st platoon digging in?" He eyes the exposed ridge. He fears.

Manitowabi steps to lift one side of Weiland's stretcher. « Non » in his thickly accented French, « Vimy » said in a low voice. "Still in France" added in his English.

Harris is eying the ridge as well. But he has his own orders, so he returns to the truck, and reaches onto the dash to grab his paper-sheaf which he neglected, peering at it. "I'll give the ridge itself to 2nd platoon, they've been resting enough. You can dig in your men to block the road at… 21 22. Taking full advantage of the terrain when considering your position, of course. Jerry will make a try for the road, no doubt about that.".

Mitchell turns to help others out of the truck once Weiland has been carried off.

Duncan hefts his Lee Enfield, resting it against his broad shoulders. He gazes about the territory surrounding them, as if getting the feel for the new ground they'll probably be fighting in an week to escape from.

Rupert takes out a map, and looks at the position on it, "21,22? That looks defensible. Looks like we can use the hind end of the ridge to cover our positions."

Mitchell seeing the last of the wounded into the aid station he moves over and leans against the truck taking a drink from his canteen.

Peter sits slowly into a chair in the station, and then seems to just wait for someone to come and change his bandage.

Manitowabi returns after helping get the stretcher-born wounded settled in the aid station. He draws a deep breath and looks around, studying the terrain as best he can from town. The hills, the ridge. Vimy Ridge.

Weiland seems relieved that he is not in England, and allows his eyes to close for a moment, head dropping back onto the stretcher he's laid out on as he's carried into the aid. «Fight them off… yet.» he coughs out in French and lifts a hand, fist clenched vaguely and waved around. Then he's out for a while again.

Rupert glances around, putting down the map. "All right, we're going to have our line in a lying L position. Slit trench at at 20,23, foxhole at 20,22, 21,22, and slit trench at 22,22. All connected. Hut hut! Dig everything into foxholes first and connect them, the AT gun is to be emplaced at 20,23." He adds under his breath, "If we get one."

Mitchell caps his canteen and moves closer to Rupert as the Lt gives out the orders of the day. He then grabs his gear straps it on and makes ready to move out to the coords given.

Manitowabi says steadily, "Yes, sir." Shouldering his rifle as he starts moving west to one of the positions noted.

Underwood wanders off to dig, learning at least some kind of trade here as a soldier.
Underwood has left.
Underwood heads off West.
Manitowabi has left.
Manitowabi heads off West.

Duncan reaches down to pat his webbing where the entrenchment tool is hanging from his waist. He shrugs the rifle around his shoulder. "Aye, right." He lumbers off.
Duncan has left.
Duncan heads off West.

Wallace finally manages to help the others into the aid station, staying out himself, even waving off one nurse before moving out to where the Lt and Capt stand, looking out toward the ridge, clearing his throat. He opens his mouth to speak just as Rupert barks out orders, and silently waits. Quietly he adds, "… and our supplies?" more a question of location than existence.

Mitchell has left.
Mitchell heads off West.

Harris watches the goings on quietly, and purses his lips. Nothing if not professional at least. "I'll see about supplies. Shouldn't be a problem - no shortages of bullets, spam or shells at least…".

Wallace turns to Harris and quickly shakes his head. "Sir, I mean to ask where we put them. Where is our supply dump on the line?"

Rupert strides along to oversee the digging.

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