Life In The Trenches

Singh has been released from the medical station and returned to the
lines a short time ago. He is currently standing against the wall of the
trench, quietly watching the sky. Perhaps for flares. Or German
artillery.

Mike enters the Trench to find Singh up against the wall, looking at
the sky, "Hello sir." he then grabs an old crate and takes a seat in a
notch, pointing his rifle out to no mans land. he then says, "All clear
out there tonight. Not much going on."

Walsh has arrived.

Antonia is on front-line duty tonight, it seems. She sits in the small
area designated for the RAMC team, sewing shut a gash in a soldier's
arm as gently as she can. From his face he's about ready to cry like a
baby.

Singh crosses his arms along his chest to concentrate what warmth he
can get from his uniform. It's a cold night. "Private Brazeau. Hello." He
accompanies the greeting with a small nod to the Canadian. "It is
clear, at present." His mild tone suggests he's unsure if it will remain so.
His gaze shifts to the medics, noting Antonia and her team, but he
doesn't interrupt their work.

Mike nods to Singh, "Isn't a bit too quiet?"

"With your guns and drums, and drums and guns, aroo, haroo. With your
guns and drums, and drums and guns, aroo, haroo. With your guns and
drums, and drums and guns, the enemy nearly slew ye. My darling dear, you
look so queer. Johnny I hardly knew ye…" The song carries well, even
though Walsh sings very softly as he makes his way out on the line as
well, looking rather relaxed for the moment.

Garner has arrived.

Antonia gives the soldier a slightly pained look as he whines
incessantly, sighing quietly and finishing up the stitching as quickly as she
can. Once he's done she sends him off and returns the supplies to her
kit, closing it. She rests her back against the trench wall looking down
at her fingernails as she absently picks at one.

Singh shrugs to Mike. "It is quiet. There cannot be too much of that.
Who knows what the next hour will bring." He doesn't sound particularly
worried. Just fatalistic. He casts a look out over toward the top of
the trench when the light of the flare goes off. "Be alert, Private, but
do not worry too much. Do not ask for trouble until it troubles you."
The sound of Walsh's singing catches his notice, and he offers a nod of
greeting to the Irishman. And he says a polite, "Good evening, Doctor"
to Antonia, while he's at it.

Garner walks east to the Front Line Trenches, in the standard crouched
walk those who don't want their grey matter exposed to air learn to
move in. He walks noticably faster than he has in the past few days, and
the blisters on his face look to be largly healed. He holds his rifle at
port arms, and is lightly whistling an unfamilar tune. "Ahh. Good men
on the line, today." He gives a smile. "Hun been acting up?"

Antonia reaches up to pull the dirty tie from her wiry hair, then
gathers it back up into some semblance of 'neat' at the back of her neck.
She notes Singh's eyes and straightens up a little to answer him.
"Evening, Corporal," she says with a nod. Her hands fold on her knees and she
stretches her arms very lightly with her fingers laced, glancing at
Garner and Walsh as they arrive in the trench.

Walsh smiles, "Good evening, all of you," he offers, with a nod, as he
looks out over the area between the lines again. "Any activity out
there tonight?"

Mike nods his head in greeting to Walsh and Garner.

Singh gives Garner a look when he arrives in a relatively jovial mood.
It can't really be called 'surprised', but his expression is
thoughtful. "Things are quiet at present," he answers both Garner and Walsh. "God
willing, it will remain so tonight."

Garner shurgs, as he takes up a position against the eastern trench
wall. He lifts his head above the Trench for a split second, scanning No
Man's Land, before popping his head down, and moving a few feet to his
right. "Hell, I don't think it matters if they come tonight, or not.
They'll have to come sometime. It'll be some night in the future. Unless
the war ends tomorrow." He smirks to himself, and takes a seat aganist
the wall, facing west.

Antonia keeps her opinion on the sentiments to herself. She pulls up
her sleeve, picking underneath the bandage wrapped around her forearm to
check on the issue, and purses her lips seeing what it looks like. She
raises her head and signals for a nurse to come cover her post for a
minute, heading over to get fresh bandages for her skin.

"I don't know, it would be kind of nice to let them know we're back,"
Walsh offers a bit lightly, as he looks out there again. He then nods a
little bit as he hears Garner's words, "Indeed."

Mike nods with Walsh, "Well, if we do get attacked, atleast we will be
able to defend ourselves like usual."

Singh shrugs his shoulders, following Garner to the more eastern
portion of the trench. "Perhaps it will. Anything is possible. Do the
generals not say we are supposed to be home by spring?" The sarcasm is light
but palpable. "As for the Hun, they will come in time. As I said to
Private Brazeau, do not invite trouble. Just be prepared for it to come."
His eyes shift idly about the trench as he speaks, taking in the
activities around him. They rest for a moment no Antonia, mildly concerned,
before he looks back to the other soldiers.

Garner gives a short, skeptical chuckle. "Ha! Home by spring. Havn't
heard that one yet, but I wouldn't be suprised if that was the line a few
months ago. Barring the Germans' doing something different then holding
that line they've been at for a few months, I'll beleive we're close to
the war's end when we March east, " He motions out to the barren
landscape, "Past the German lines, and don't get shoot at for all of ten
minutes."

"Did they specify what spring?" Walsh asks, as he looks out still. And
then smiles softly as he begins to sing a little bit to himself. "We
were sitting in the trenches, watching people passing by. When someone
saw something, flying through the sky. Looking quite alarmed, Jim missed
it. And then cried out 'what is it?' And what will happen on the day,
when Jerry is coming to visit."

O'Riley makes his way up along the trenches, the lewis gun slung over
his shoulder. Bandage covers most parts of his right hand that is
resting on the stock of his weapon to hold it in place.

Antonia can hear the men talking still. She unwraps the dressing from
around her arm, the rash of bubbled blisters going a good way up her
arm. as she listens she cleans the rash, especially the end of it that
spills over her right wrist and hand. She wraps clean dressing around it,
keeping her teeth together behind closed lips to keep her face from
betraying any pain. Finally she pulls her sleeve back down, buttoning the
cuff.

Singh chuckles dryly at Walsh's comment. "They did not, come to it.
Perhaps that's the sort of wisdom that makes men officers." He's standing
near the eastern wall of the trench, talking with Garner, Walsh and
Mike. He falls quiet as Walsh sings, just listening to that for a moment.
He doesn't look in Antonia direction again, trying to give the woman as
much privacy as possible.

There are a few designated places along the trench line that is suited
for a machine gun. And O'Riley moves towards one of those and puts up
his lewis gun, to let it rest there to rid himself of the burden. He
then reaches up with his left hand to scratch his chest as he glances out
over the rest of the people here. "Corpral Singh…Any news?" he asks
after a moment as he crouches down along the trench wall. Once he is
seated he spots Doctor Antonia and offers her a salute, with his bandaged
right hand.

Mike grins to Singh, "Ah well, we'll be home at some point, thats good
enough for me. I dont like it here, but I can deal with it until the
war is over, it cant take all that much longer, the Germans will
eventually surrender."

Garner laughs, as he works the action on his Enfield, moving the bolt
closed and open. He affects a high-pitched, faux-cultured accent. "Don't
worry, chaps! War will be over in the Springtime! Of course, it won't
be until 1925, but just think of how your England will look then!" He
shakes his head. "Ehhhh. Thank /God/ they don't say things like that…"
He frowns slightly, and looks at his rifle. "Damn it… Ahhh,
Corporal?" He looks toward Singh, and points to a spare Lee-Enfield leaning
aganist the trench wall near him. "Hand me that rifle, there?"

Antonia straightens down her uniform jacket, pushing the medical kit
aside and standing up. Her back had been to the men but she turns back
around now that things were fine. Catching O'Riley's salute, she returns
it, with an approving nod seeing him ambling about much more easily
now. She folds her arms lightly, her hands resting on her forearms.
Garner's little show makes a corner of her lips twitch in a faint smirk.

Walsh snickers a little as he hears Garner's words there. He then looks
out again, shrugging a little to himself.

Mike grins and laughs to Garners words.

Singh inclines his head to O'Riley. "Good evening. News?" He shakes his
head. "I have heard nothing of great import. What is it you wish to
know?" He only grins slightly at Garner's words, reaching back to get the
spare rifle and handing it toward Garner. "Is something wrong with your
weapon?"

Garner grunts, and grabs the rifle offered to him, setting his own
rifle aside. "Damn action felt loose at the training ground this morning.
Too loose now, to work with. Doesn't stic when its closed." Garner
manages a few quick motions to the spare rifle, and, with a sudden pull
outward, removes the entire bolt mechanism. He places it carefully on his
knee, and leans the now defunct spare aganist the trench wall. He grabs
his own rifle, and shows the people around him that the bolt is, in
fact, refusing to stay locked when closed. "See?"

O'Riley shakes his head slightly as he pulls his helmet down a bit
further over his forehead. "No Sir…Just glad there is no orders for a
push sent our way..That is all sir." he wipes his nose as he sits there in
the muddy trench. "Soo anyone know any merry tunes aye…Wild rover
perhaps?"

Mike nods to Garner

Antonia stands there watching as though she couldn't quite make up her
mind whether she was frightened or fascinated by the display with the
rifle. She keeps her arms folded but takes a few hesitant steps towards
the group, still staying in the background but tilting her head
slightly so she can see what Garner is doing with the firearm. She never quite
could peg how she felt about these things.

Do you even need to ask, when it comes to songs? "In the merry month of
May, from my home I started. Left the girls of Tuam nearly broken
hearted. Saluted my father dear, kissed my darlin' mother, drank a pint of
beer, y grief and tears to smother, then off to reap the corn, leave
where I was born. I cut a stout blackthorn to banish ghost and goblin. In
a bran' new pair of brogues, I rattled o'er the bogs, and frightened
all the dogs on the rocky road to Dublin, one two three four five." Walsh
starts singing, with a grin. "Hunt the hare and turn her down the rocky
road all the way to Dublin. Whack folol de da!"

Mike pulls 3 large bottles of whiskey from his jacket and offers them
around, "Got them from my dad at home last night, came in the mail for
me."

Singh nods to Garner, frowning at the malfunctioning rifle. He eyes it
with a professional sort of irritation. "Did you use it in any unusual
way before it began doing this?" He shakes his head to O'Riley with a
faint smile. No push as of yet. He listens with his head slightly tilted
to Walsh's singing, shaking his head at Mike's offer. "No, thank you,
Private."

O'Riley claps his uninjured hand along his thigh to the beat of Walsh's
singing. And as the whiskey bottle is offered towards him, he shakes
his head slightly. "Sorry mate…Do nah drink when on duty..Rain check if
you donna mind." he then goes back to listening and clapping his hand
along with Walshs singing.

Garner shakes his head to Singh, as he proceeds to remove the bolt from
his own rifle. "Didn't notice anything wrong with the weapon until I
was at training. Best guess is that the bolt got banged up when I was
getting to cover last time the artillery came down. Don't want to give
this thing to the Quartermaster, so I decided I'll just switch out the
bolts." He's just about to rip out the defective bolt in the same way as
the last rifle, when he spots Antonia watching with slight curoisty.
"Oy, Doctor." He carefully hefts the rifle. "Interested in
field-stripping?"

Walsh just keeps his eyes out on the lines as he finishes the singing,
watching quietly.

Antonia tilts her head slightly, raising an eyebrow as Garner talks to
her. Her pale eyes glance at the rifle, then at the soldier's face.
"Field-stripping? And what is that?" She asks with reined curiosity.

Mike offers the bottle to Antonia, Walsh and Garner.

"May I have that when you're finished with it, Private?" Singh asks
Garner, pointing a finger at the defective bolt. He turns his attention to
Antonia when she asks, answering, "He is disassembling his rifle,
Doctor. It is done to clean them or repair them, or just make sure they are
in proper working order."
Well.. it was Sam's turn to relieve on of the crew nurses on the front.
A job they somewhat looked forward to and all dreaded. If action should
hit it could mean lives.. but it would also m ean they were doing the
real work they came here for. So.. Sam steps up, nodding to the other
nurse who abruptly dashes back to the med station. Sam steps to Toni's
side.."Reporting for duty, Sir."

Walsh turns to glance back at the others, and notices Mike offering the
bottle. "Thanks," he says, and takes the offered bottle to take one
long sip from it, before handing it back again. "Saved the day there."

Mike grins, "You're welcome to it as much as you want." he then puts
the bottle on a crate off to the side of the group here.

Garner waves away the bottle Mike offers. "Mum said if I could spend my
time drinking, I must already be rich." He nods to Singh's assessment.
"Yep. Clean, repair, that sort of thing. It also happens to be
something to do when your lying on a cot with a busted arm. And something of a
challenge, as well." He lifts the rifle up, and points to sections of
the rifle. "Frame, receiver, barrel, action." He then points to a few
places on the bolt. "You flick these up, bring the bolt to an open
position, like it is now, and then…" He makes a quick pull, and the bolt
comes cleanly off. "Simple as that." He looks over to Sam, and gives a
hesitant nod, before turning back to Antonia. "Know anything about the
Lee Enfield, Doctor?" He silently hands the bad bolt to Singh.

Antonia's green eyes look at Singh as the man explains Garner's
actions. It may be mundane to a soldier, but it's a new term for her. She
looks back at Garner, then at the gun, hesitantly. "No, sir. But if I'm so
far comfortable re-arranging men's internal organs I'm sure a machine
won't be half bad." Her eyes seem locked on the gun as Garner handles
it, so much so that she hears Sam and talks to her without looking at
her, her attention on Garner as she says, deadpan. "Ah, Nurse Cole.
Welcome. You're just in time to watch Private Garner strip."

Mike puts the rest of the bottles on the crate.

Samantha blinks.. just.. staring over in Garner's direction, a sudden
heat to her face. "I.. I think I'm going to go… check.. down the
line.. You know… and… Things." She coughs out, quickly slipping further
down the front line's trench.

Walsh grins as he hears Mike's words, "Thanks," he replies, before he
looks back at the others for a few moments, hears the words spoken, and
almost falls over trying to hold back his laughter.

Singh passes a mild look between Mike and Walsh but he has no comments
on the drinking. "The organs are far more complex than this thing,
Doctor, I am sure," he says with a gesture to the rifle. "It is a
relatively simple piece of equipment, and quite functional as well." He offers
and inclination of his head and friendly, "Good evening, Nurse Cole" to
Sam. And he looks quite confused when she starts blushing and heads
off. He looks between Antonia and Garner, for clarification.

Mike grins to Antonia, wondering if her words were intentional, and
then bursts out in laughter.

Garner 's holding the bolt in one hand, and the rifle in the other,
careful to keep the .303 bullets in the now open chamber. Antonia's
comment, however, disrupts that fragile balance, as Garner acts like a large
electrical shock goes through his body. The bolt falls to the trench
floor, and the rifle jerks backward, sending the cartridges dropping into
the muck. Luckly, he's sitting down, or he might have feel into No
Man's Land. Any control of his vocal cords seems to have left him, as his
face goes beet red. "I…. err….. uhh.." He follows Sam with his eyes
as she hurries off and away, and then give he attention to the Doctor.
"Ma… Ma'am, the-the correct term is /field/-strip. And it-it's
something you perform on a-a-a firearm."

Mike starts laughing even harder.

"Oh. Yes. Right." Antonia says, far too mildly for her own comment to
have been anything but intentional. She just gives Garner a smile that's
a tad too sweet, then she raises an eyebrow as she sits down near the
group and pays attention. "Do go on, sir."

For the record it must be noted that Walsh was really trying to hold
back the laughter. But as he sees Garner's reaction, he rolls over on his
side, and a HOWL of laughter erupts from him.

Singh finally gets it, clearing his throat and kneeling down to pick up
some of the rifle parts Garner dropped. "The doctor is not familiar
with the terminology, Private," he says as he picks, picks, picks up
cartridges. "I am certain she did not mean…" Ahem. Anyway.

Garner still looks quite red in the face, but manages to give a /very/
embarassed smile over to Antonia, adjusting it to face each of the
persons in the trench. "Oh, of-of course, Corporal. Sure she didn't, ahh,
didn't mean anything by it." He sighs to himself, and looks down at his
rifle, shakily searching for the good bolt, which had fallen off its
prech on his knee. Grabbing it from a luckily dirtless part of the firing
step, he takes a deep breath. After a second or so of waiting, he slams
the bolt into it's place in the frame, locks it in place, closes it,
and opens it again, withing half a second. "Wish I had a bleeding stop
watch." He mutters.

Walsh continues laughing for a little while before the laughter dies
down to an ordinary chuckle, and he gets to his feet, shaking his head
again, as he looks out into NML for a few moments. "Absolutely bloody
priceless…" he mutters to himself.

Antonia tilts her chin down slightly, watching what Garner does. Her
brows draw together for a moment, her hands resting on her seat as she
leans forward a little to observe. She's forgotten about the verbal
riffing, it seems. A few slams and clicks make her jump slightly. Despite
being on a battlefield most of her days, these guns were still dreadful
to be so close to. But she doesn't shirk from him. As his muttering
ceases she hesitates, then reaches out her slender hand towards the rifle.
"May I see it?" She asks cautiously.

Singh straightens up to watch Garner finish the rifle, then watches
Antonia as she reaches for it. Brows arching a notch.

Garner 's face has regianed it's original color rather quickly. Seems
that simple mechanics are somewhat thereputic. He looks up from him
work, and thinks a bit, before nodding. "Sure, alright." He quickly brings
the bolt back to the closed position. "I'd actually like you to do me a
favor with it." The weapon is unloaded, new cartidges being brought out
from a pouch from Garner's belt.

Walsh has gone back to looking out there for the moment, keeping his
eyes on the happenings out there, as he picks up his own rifle, and
absently checks it over.

Garner holds the weapon up to Antonia to handle with his free hand.

Antonia isn't sure why she requested to hold the rifle. She is at once
repulsed and fascinated by it, this one instrument standing for such
the opposite of what she was here to do. She doesn't attempt to heft it
or hold it like a soldier, lying it with one end against her leg, both
hands holding it steady. Her eyes look up and down the barrel, then over
the butt of it, her brows drawn together very slightly. Her frown seems
thoughtful. She raises her head, looking back at Garner. "What, sir?"

Singh remains quiet as she watches Antonia handle the rifle, folding
his arms across his chest, expression carefully neutral. He does look
curiously to Garner when he mentions a favor.

Garner motions to the east, pointing at a slight angle to the sky. "I
want you to point the rifle to the east, at high enough angle so that
the barrel's pointing toward the sky, and pull the trigger." He's got ten
rounds out at the moment, and is lining them up on the wood of the
firing step. "And make sure you release the saftey, there, on the right."
He gets up slightly, and point to a little lever on the receiver, near
the trigger.

Walsh places his own rifle along the side wall of the trench, as he
crouches down, eyes on one of those rats that has a tendency to stay
around here. Watching it carefully for a few moments.

Antonia looks down at the rifle as he indicates the safety. The weapon
in her small hands might almost look comical if they weren't surrounded
by war. She glances up towards the sky and then back down at the gun,
as if this weight in her hands meant more to her than any of these
soldiers could guess. She manuevers the barrel carefully, instinct telling
her not to let it point at any man on its way up, and she stands up,
aiming the rifle towards the sky as instructed. Her grip on it is
obviously less than professional, and its heavier than she thought it would be,
but she braces it as best she can. Safety catch slipped off, she does
nothing for a moment as she just looks at the sky and then pulls the
trigger. The firing pin makes a single click, and that's all.

Singh knows the rifle isn't loaded, so he says nothing as Antonia fires
it. He does watch her very closely, a small frowning coming to his
face. He arches a brow at Garner after the click of the pin is heard. As if
asking him what that was all about.

Garner grins, and gives a short yell of exclamation. "Hah!" He gives
the grin to Singh, motioning to the rifle. I wasn't sure if it would
fit!" He stands up to a crouch, and moves closer to Antonia, giving the
bolt assembly a quick visual examination. "And it looks to be locking into
place fairly nicely." He looks rather pleased with himself. He gives a
deep nod to the Doctor. "Thank you for helping me with that little
test, Doctor."

"You're welcome, sir," Antonia says, almost inaudibly. She holds the
rifle out to him, desperately not wanting to hold it anymore. Her eyes
avoid the men's eyes.

"You could not have done that yourself, Private?" Singh asks Garner
coolly. His disapproval is mild, but it's there. He shrugs. "You are
satisfied it is in working order, then? Good. It would not do to have you
without a weapon."

Walsh has still kept his attention on the rat, as he draws out a small
knife. Waiting a few moments longer, he dives forward, stabbing at the
rat in the process. "Got you!"

Garner gives a slightly apologetic looks to Singh, before nodding again
to Antonia. He takes the rifle, and moves back to his spot aganist the
wall. He opens the bolt of the rifle, and begins putting rounds into
the magazine. One, two, three. "The weapon scared me the first time I
picked it up, too, you know." He says, looking down at the loading
process. "Never, never handled a gun before I went to training, much less an
Army rifle with a bayonet attached." Four, five, six, seven. "Now, it's
a friend of mine, weather I'm using it, or it's just within sight. "
Eight, nine, ten. He quickly closes the bolt, and holds the rifle with
both hands for a second, before shaking his head, and proping it up
against the trench wall. "Looks too big for you, though, Doctor. Maybe try
to get a wounded officer to loan you his Webley." He gives a brief
smile, before looking at all the commotion Walsh is causing. "Are you going
to eat all of that?" He says, matter of factly.

Antonia's hands are shaking as she gives the gun back, and she folds
her arms to hide it, embarassed by her own emotion. She manages a small
smile at the end of Garner's address to her, looking at his eyes for
just a second. As he turns away to Walsh though, her attention returns to
the rifle and her smile disappears. "Man makes these things…" she
says under her breath, as though this entire thing had been both very
enlightening and utterly confounding at the same time. She turns her eyes
to each of them in turn as she stands there, looking at the insignias on
each man's uniform rather than anyone's face, and then she turns,
starting to walk back towards the medical tent.

Singh is too occupied with Antonia to see Walsh knife the rat. Not that
he's hungry at the moment, anyhow. He looks as if he wants to say
something to the doctor, but he doesn't actually voice it. He just watches
her silently as she looks the soldiers over, then keeps watching as she
heads back to the tent.

Walsh shrugs a bit as he gets back to his feet, offering a half-shrug
over at Garner. "Why do you ask? Do you want some of it?" he asks, a bit
lightly, as he removes the corpse of the animal from his knife.

Garner looks up from the Rat, as Antonia takes a look at him. He looks
back into her eyes, and then looks to the side, at his own rifle. He
sighs to himself, and looks up, watching as Antonia moves back her
station. He moves to grab his rifle from the side of his trench, and put his
hand on the trigger assembly. "I wonder how she manages to do all of
this." He turns to Singh, and Walsh. "She's committed to saving lives,
and we're committed to taking them." He simply shakes his head, and looks
to Walsh. "Yeah, sure. We'll need to get a fire started."

Antonia sits down on one of their stools as she gets the edge of the
tent. A few feet away, a nurse is busy mopping blood off a cut on a
soldier's foot with a damp rag. Her eyes watch that scene for a few moments,
and then two uniformed men walk by her, carrying their rifles with
them. Her attention switches to them, her head not moving as her eyes track
them and their firearms.

Singh shrugs at Garner's words. "We all have our purposes to serve
here." He pauses a moment, his gaze following Antonia. "She is very
strong." He says that half to himself, and seems surprised when he realizes
he's spoken aloud. He quickly shifts his focus to Walsh and Garner.
"Fire?"

Walsh nods a little at Garner's words, as he looks around for something
to use for that fire. "A cooking fire, sir," he replies to Singh, with
a half-smile.

Garner gives a quick nod to Singh, as if to agree with his assessment
of Antonia. He doesn't say anything, though, on the subject, and masks
the nod with the next statment. "Of course, sir. I mean, you can eat a
rat cold, but it happens to taste alot better if you cook it first." He
looks around the trench, actually standing up a bit, and searching the
general area. "Hell, we don't have anything metal to start it in." He
turns back to the two. "Either of you know a scrouger?"

Antonia watches those two men until they've disappeared down the bend
of the trench. Then she looks down at the ground, getting a rare moment
to herself just to think. It doesn't last long, of course, as a nurse
comes up to her to request help in a gratingly soprano voice and flap of
hands. As the girl turns away Antonia just stares after her, trying not
to let the corner of her eye twitch. Where did they find these people?
She stands up, rolling her shoulders back to stretch quickly before she
heads over to assist.

"A cooking fire?" It takes Singh a second to catch on, but when he does
he chuckles. Though he clearly isn't in the state of mind to have
proper appreciation for fried rat. "Round up some more and you could make a
feast for us. They are one of the few things there is no shortage of in
this place."

Walsh shakes his head a little at Garner's question, "I'm afraid not,"
he replies, before he chuckles at Singh's words, "Well, it's very easy
rounding them up, I'd say. Just sit down, or something."

Garner shakes his head slowly, and moves back to where he was sitting.
"Not enough time to get a group of them. You don't want to carry them
around with you, at least, not without something to carry them in.
Otherwise someone might try and take them." He sighs, and reaches behind
him, pulling out his Bayonet, and examining the rat. "What, both of you
had enough money to eat every day?"

Antonia finishes with what the nurse needing, which was just help in
splinting a sprained finger and calming the soldier who was convinced the
thing was broken. She pours a splash of water into one of their tin
cups, carrying it back to the edge of the tent and leaning her shoulder
against the pole. Taking a sip of the water, her attention wanders back
to the threesome and their barbecue. Mouth hidden by the cup she arches
a brow as she can hear threads of the conversation from here…

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