God Save The King

Coastwatcher Martin Clemens and his posse find the Americans.

File created: 2009-10-21 00:29


The Grid-----> > > > > THE GREATEST GENERATION < < <

Theatre is : Guadalcanal

Coordinates : 3 11

This is a true tropical jungle. Life is all about you - vines coiling around hardy trees, snakes slither through the thick undergrowth, birds of paradise chatter from the branches up on high. But in truth this is no paradise. Dim even during the day due to the thick growth, seemingly wet and stiflingly humid all the time, disease ridden mosquitoes swarm to suck the blood of human intruders to this very foreign land.

Slayback walks in from the north along with Woods. He makes his way over to the trench and plops down into it. Oooooh, duty on the front line.

Woods walks along, just behind Slayback. His arm's a bit bandaged yet, but Woods looks cheery and in relatively good shape all things considered. Alas, no parrots. But bright red birdies are not allowed out on patrol.

The front is quiet. Well, quiet in the military sense. It's actually quite noisy, between the birds and the bugs and the quiet whooshing of the river going by just to the west.

Slayback sits quietly in the trench, no words spoken to reveal his position to an enemy who might care enough to listen. He has his BAR leaned against the trench wall next to him. He's a scary SOB when he's quiet.

Carey is in the trench himself today, albeit wielding a Bible instead of a gun. He delivers the book to one of the soldiers on watch in the background. Perhaps it was requested. Whatever the case, a few quiet words are exchanged and the book is left with the Marine.

Woods doesn't seem to be TOO afraid of Slayback, but maybe Woods is just the sort to cheerily march to his death. Woods has his Reising over his shoulder (His good one). He's quiet, but smiles, seeing Carey. "Hiya, Padre."

Slayback glances down as Woods addresses the chaplain and he offers a wave to him. He still stays silent and sits back against the trench wall. He grabs his BAR and holds it across his chest now.

Carey hears the greeting of Padre and turns in that direction. A faint smile and raise of his arm is offered to Woods and Slayback in acknowledgement. "Good evening, boys," he says, though he keeps his tone low. Out of respect for the things that lurk in the jungle. "Hope the Lord is keeping you in quiet company up here tonight."

The background noise of the jungle is overshadowed by a sudden sound, coming from the south. Is that… whistling? A moment spent listening carefully will confirm that it is. Sounds like 'My Country Tis of Thee'.

Woods doesn't lean back as much, odd. He smiles towards the Padre again. His voice is soft too, "Yeah. Doing alright. How about you? Although, I just got out here…" He admits. And a pause at the whistling. "Hey, you hear that?" He asks softly.

Kappedal coems trudging up the trench line in his muddy boots, slapping at some mosquito. One of many that buzz and bite, along with the ants and other disease-ridden critters. He taps the active medic on the shoulder, exchanging a few quiet words before the other man turns to head in for the afternoon, leaving Kappedal on band-aid duty. He starts towards Woods' familiar face but pauses at the sounds.

Slayback jumps up and moves to the trench wall. He does it with an extreme silence that almost makes people wonder if he's an aborition or really a person. A peer to the south and he Shhhh's everyone else.

The whistling continues, sounding like it's getting closer. There's a rustling in the jungle, but it's hard to see anything. Sounds like people moving, though. An occasional thwack of a machete cutting through some dense undergrowth.

Woods pauses, hearing the whistling getting nearer. He turns his head towards the source of the noise. "Sounds like someone is cutting through," He squints. "I can't see them yet, can you?" He asks softly. A smile seeing Ben though, his green eyes bright and a WHAP as he gets the skeeter.

Carey lifts his head. He did hear it, indeed. A shake of his head to Woods, but, given the tune, he doesn't appear that nervous. He seems half-tempted to sing a reply, but that is restrained.

Slayback closes one eye and hunches down, staring down his ironsights. The business-end of his BAR is pointed at whatever happens to be chopping it's way through the jungle.

Kappedal gives Woods a reddened grin back, eking more over his way. "What's going on?" He mutters under his breath to the Californian.

A figure becomes visible through the trees, something metallic flashing briefly. It's too hard to see exactly who or what it is yet.

"Dunno, pretty quiet. Hear some whistling and cutting. My Country Tis of Thee, I think the song is," He doesn't seem TOO nervous, just curious. Woods smiles to Ben. He looks over as the figure becomes visible. "Probably just someone coming back."

Slayback moves his index finger off of the trigger guard, but doesn't move it to his trigger, although, he looks like he could be ready to shoot what's out there isn't friendly.

Carey sits low in the trench, watching the jungle, waiting with more patience than anything else for whatever is going to emerge. A little nod at Woods' suggestion. Coming back. 'Tis what he seems to assume.

The area in front of the trench has been cleared (somewhat) of underbrush, allowing a more effective killzone. There's another thwack of a machete cutting, and the figure comes into that killzone. It's a native, wrapped in… a British flag. He has a machete in one hand and an old school Lee Enfield rifle slung across his back. Behind him comes another, dressed more like a typical native, with his rifle resting on his left shoulder in a quite proper-looking marching position.

Kappedal doesn't move to pull his pistol. He goes into action when blood flies, not before it. His back stiffens at the sight coming towards them, unsure what to make of it.

Woods hasn't unshouldered his Reising. No good at much range. Woods is just watching quietly, and blinks. Natives? "Well, they've got whistling our songs down pat." He pauses. "And British flags, we're pals with them…" That's a plus. A smile at the natives. Woods decides to be the lamb, and peers out to them. "Looks like they can march."

Slayback wonders what kind of army he's in where people just curiously peek at someone who's cutting their way, unannounced through the jungle with what could possibly be a weapon in close quarters. No matter, he just keeps following the figure, aiming low so that the hit wouldn't kill him if it came down to it.

Behind the two natives comes an even odder sight - a trim white man with a thin mustache. He doesn't look like a marine, unless he's undercover. He's wearing a khaki tropical shirt and shorts (like the Croc Hunter), and a floppy hat with one side turned up. Around his waist is a gunbelt, and when he spots the marines up ahead, he stops the whistling. Behind HIM march four more natives, all marching along smartly with their rifles at their shoulders.

Carey may be wondering some things himself, in the quiet of his soul, but his thoughts remain unbroadcast to the general populace. The native wearing the British flag draws a grin from him. The white man who comes after, a look of open surprise.

Kappedal's brows rise and draw at the sight of the white guy. He glances at Woods and then back at the oncoming train of natives and sore thumb, hooking a thumb into the strap of the medical bag that crosses his chest.

Woods blinks. "Doctor Livingstone, I don't think he is," Woods remarks quietly. He peers, then offers a little wave to the British man. He'll be the lamb into the fire. Wait, which metaphor was he going for? Still, gotta be pretty ballsy to wear a flag. Hmmm.

Slayback is blindsided by the fact that he missed the other four figures. Hrmm, could he possible hit them all if they tried something. He decides to take the diplomatic way and not point his gun at them. He hopes they understand English and he states very clearly, "Identify yourselves."

The native wearing the flag grins broadly when he sees the Americans, but says nothing. He stops walking when Slayback calls to them, and the others follow suit behind. His machete is lowered to a more casual position, and he doesn't seem the least bit concerned that the Americans are going to shoot him.

The white guy, on the other hand, looks a bit nervous. He clears his throat, and calls back, "Martin Clemens. His Majesty's Colonial Service."

Carey is no Marine, but he's damned curious. And now reasonably sure the figures from the jungle aren't going to shoot, if nothing else. "His Majesty's, are you? You look a long ways from home, Mister Clemens."

Woods flashes a smile at the native wearing the flag. He can't help it. Woods is a friendly fellow, his expression bright. "Oh, hello sir." He doesn't seem to be worried after the introduction, "Yeah. They should probably come over here," Likely safer inside the trench after all.

Kappedal glances at Carey and then back at Clemens, his expression slowly shifting from wary to quite curious. The native's grin also gets one back from him, dimples and all.

Slayback raises an eyebrow at the group of people and sits his BAR down on the trench floor and waves a beckoning hand to the group, "Come on, there's snipers in them trees."

"Quite," is the British man's succinct response to the comment about the snipers, nodding to Slayback. He motions his "troops" to move forward, and they march over to the trench. It's a little small for all of them, so Clemens gives a little nod of his head and all but the flag-draped man fade off into the nearby brush. You can still see them if you know to look, but they're probably not going to be sniper bait. "Long way indeed," he replies to Carey. His manner of speaking is a bit odd. Clearly a British accent (Scottish technically, if the Americans are tuned into that sort of thing), but the words are a little halting, like someone not familiar with the language.

Carey shifts a bit in the trench, as if to make room for the incoming men. Still watching them with a good deal of curiosity. "Were you with one of the missionary groups?" he asks Clemens. "We've a girl who was on the island with a party of Anglicians." He still clearly doesn't quite understand the 'his Majesty's service' thing.

Woods smiles and will help anyone needing help into the trench. "Hiya," A beam at the natives. He seems to be fond of the native people on the island. He seems impressed as they fade off. Whoa. Blink. Woods lets Carey speak then, voicing his questions before he can. A glance to Ben and Slayback then more smiles.

Kappedal shrugs one shoulder at Woods. He's content to let the priest talk to the new man for the time being, listening as well. He turns his back to the trench wall, bracing one foot up against the muddy side and leaning back on it.

The flag-clad native laughs at Carey's question. "Him? No missionary. No sir, no." His accent is British as well, and his English pretty decent. He grins broadly, revealing stained teeth.

Clemens chuckles, but shakes his head. "I am a District Officer. In fact, I believe I am the only representative of His Majesty's government remaining on this island." He looks curious when Carey mentions the Anglicans. "From the mission west of here? Mrs. Clark?"

One of the other natives smiles back at Woods from his hiding place near the trench, peering curiously at the young American.

Slayback nods to Clemens, "Yeah that's her. You want her back?" He chuckles and takes a seat next to his rifle. He digs around in his pocket and pulls his pack of gum out to retrieve a stick of gum.

Kappedal tilts his head slightly when the man mentions Annabelle by name. His blue eyes glance at Carey, a little more seriously now.

"District Officer?" Carey doesn't know what to make of this, either. But the answers the latter question first. "Her name is Mrs. Annabelle Clark, yes. I take it you knew the mission. Mind telling us what you fellows were doing out there, if you weren't converting the islanders?"

Hey! Someone is smiling at him. Woods is momentarily distracted, and turns towards him. He peers curiously back, tilting his head. He seems unsure if he should wave or what. "Hi." HE offers gently. A smile. He's listening, and watching.

Clements looks oddly at Slayback. "Back?" He sounds confused by the question. He answers Carey with a nod. "Aye, I know the Clarks, along with most every colonial on the island. My men and I have been out in the bush since the sodding Nips invaded, scouting and playing cat and mouse with the buggers. Jolly glad to see you Yanks."

Slayback nods to Clements, "Well, make yourself at home as long as you please." He offers a stick of gum to the man. He inquires of him, "So, you guys just sneak around through the jungle?"

"Dodgy game to play, cat and mouse with the Japs," Carey observes. "Pity you didn't find us sooner. But, the Lord works in his own time." He asks again, "What were you doing out there, for his Majesty's service?"

"We only just got word that you'd secured the airstrip. Had to avoid the Nips on the way down from the hills." Clemens' words are less halting now, as if his English was just a bit rusty and now he's back in the swing of it. "Before the war I was responsible for administering the government here. Since the hostilities, I've been organizing the Coastwatchers."

Slayback nods to Clemens, "Wow, you guys are behind, aren't ya?" He chomps on his gum and laughs. A glance at the natives in the trees, he doesn't trust them very much…but he tolerates them because they seem to hate Tojo as much as he does.

The hiding native smiles and waves back, but it's the flag-clad one who speaks to Woods. "He no speak English," he says in a friendly tone.

"They must be from another village from Tavua's, nu?" Kappedal murmurs to Woods, splitting his attention between Clemens and the natives. He makes a little waving motion at them, then looks back at Carey and the new guy. "Coastwatchers?"

"Coastwatchers?" Carey asks, almost in unison with Kappedal. He shrugs to the medic. He knows not. He waits with great interest for an answer, though.

Woods frowns a little at Slayback, tilting his head. A nod at Kappedal, "Probably, seem nice though." Smile. Then a pause, as the flag clad fellow speaks. "Oh, that's ok. I only know two words of your guys' language too." ~Hi~ Woods tries, a pale imitation of a good accent. Like that!

Clemens actually seems surprised. "You don't know?" He shakes his head. Americans. "Volunteer reserve of the Australian Navy. We have observation posts, watching for enemy planes, ships, what have you. There's a few hundred of us scattered across these islands - government officials as myself, missionaries, plantation owners who refused to leave." He grins. "Who'd you think found out the Nips were building this bloody airstrip in the first place?"

The flag-clad native grins at Woods. "Jolly good," he says when the man attempts to speak in their language. "I am Jacob." He points to two of the other men in the bush nearby and introduces them as well.

"Jacob," Kappedal repeats the name, glancing at Woods again. Almost in surprise that the name's so common. He smiles at the introduced native, then his brows go up upon hearing Clemens. "Really?"

Slayback nods to one of the men in the bush and halfway fumbles, halfway articulates his way through saying, "~You boys comfortable out there?~" He grins at the one who's caught his attention.

Slayback nods to one of the men in the bush and halfway fumbles, halfway articulates his way through saying, "~Hey.~" He grins at the one who's caught his attention.

"You'll forgive us. The brass doesn't make us privy much of the intelligence-type end of this mission here," Carey says. He regards the lot of them. "Speaking of, perhaps we'd best get you to meet with the Captain, Mister Clemens."

Woods is wanting to learn to speak it. More friends! He seems fond of the natives, for one reason or another. Probably just curious and dorky. At the Jolly good, Woods grins back, expression brightening. "Jacob. Nice to meet you. I'm Vincent, Vince or Vinny is fine," He nods and smiles at each as they are introduced. "Nice to meet you all too." ~Thank you~ See, TWO phrases. "I'd like to learn more of the language, but I- guess I'm not good at it."

Well, most of the English names came from missionaries, so Biblical references are common. Yeah, that's it. Jacob grins at the other American attempting to talk. "Good to meet you Vincent Vince Vinny." He grins, maybe intending it as a joke. "Where you learn speak our tongue?" he wonders to all of them.

Clemens nods to Kappedal. "Aye, that's the truth." Then to Carey, "Right, of course. Sorry, been out in the bush too long. You lot are the first ones I've spoken English to in months. I'm looking forward to a proper bath and a bed, truth be told." Ah, the impending disappointment.

Slayback glances at Jacob and says, "We learn from hear and there. Occasionally a phrase or two will stick." He then decides to introduce himself, "I'm Laurence Slayback, some folks call me Tank, not real sure why."

Woods grins and laughs softly at the joke. He doesn't seem to mind. "I only know those few words. There's some villagers near us," He explains. "Met a fellow named Tavua, he's the one we meet most. Nice guy." He seems willing to accept someone easily. "Even went to a roast with them. They liked my parrot." Woods has a parrot. Dork. "I really am working on it, I think. When I can." IE, when he can bug some poor soul!

Kappedal starts to laugh a little at Jacob's dubbing of Woods. "There's some others from your nation that come around. Well, used to come around, anyway. From a village towards the beach there." He looks back at Clemens, scratching his nose. Poor guy. "I'm sure you'd be welcome to what we have, sir."

"Father Francis Carey," the padre introduces himself to Clemens, for his part. "We can lead you and yours back whenever you're ready."

"You have parrot?" Jacob says, eyes growing big. He looks around, trying to spot it. Slayback gets a toothy smile as well. "Good to meet you, Laurence." He nods. "I know that village." Though he doesn't seem to know Tavua specifically, or if he does he doesn't mention it.

Clemens nods. "Aye, no sense lingering. Lead the way, lads." He stands up, brushing himself off, and the other natives follow his cue and prepare to depart.

Slayback reaches down to grab his BAR and clambers out of the trench. He makes his way to the top and turns around to offer a hand down to Clemens to get out aswell.

"Yeah, two of them now. They're near our aid station when I'm out working," Woods smiles at Jacob. "You'd like them, they can say hi even." TALKING parrots. He seems to like the people on this island very much, green eyes bright and alert despite the bandages on his arm.

Carey hefts himself out of the trench, waiting for Clemens and his followers before starting back toward the main encampment.

Kappedal pushes his foot off the trench wall, thumb pulling the strap of his canvas pack up to quit its digging into his neck. Red cross marking his progress along the line, he climbs up and reaches down to give Woods a hand on the way.

Jacob grins at Woods. "I like to see that." He makes sure his flag is settled securely around him before climbing out of the trench as well. Clemens follows Carey. No whistling this time.

Woods grins back, "Keen." He seems pleased. More fans for the birds! He looks up and smiles at Ben, then to Slayback. "Thanks," He's grateful for the help. Still somewhat one armed. He scrambles along after, somewhat awkwardly for a moment then regains himself.

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