Will we make it?

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5

5uperjun1or

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Original poster
Frank Rossini stepped off the bus. His short brown wavy hair moved with the wind as he stepped in line. The Sergeant looked each one of them up and down. Stopping in front of Frank he ordered "State your name private!"

Not one to disobey he said confidently "Frank Rossini, Sir!"

"Where you from Rossini?" The Sergeant asked

"Hatford, sir" Frank replied.

With that over the Sergeant passed everyone "All right you maggots! Get to your tents, I want you ready in ten minutes with the uniforms provided on, and gathered at the training grounds, do I make myself clear?" he ordered before a resounding "Sir, yes sir!" carried through the air. As the Sergeant was speaking a uniformed man passed out green uniforms. Everyone broke into directions every which way and slipped into tents. Frank followed the crowd and entered his tent before undressing and pulling on his uni.
 
A simple looking man was already dressed in his uniform before Frank, he even had the chance to get it dirty. He was busy building more tents like he was ordered. With an accurate swing of his arm the hammer landed on the peg. The heavy gravity from his hit would puncture the ground quickly allowing him to move onto the next task.

This was a man that resembled his name, he used his strength to quickly raise his rank and command other beneath him. But all the while he would gain respect and do quality work that was expected of him. He enjoyed hard labour and relaxing with friend with a good meal. He watched the new recruits coming out from the tent.

"Achir, we need you to help with repairing some computers." He was called, but he lingered a bit. He was now just watching Frank who was the only speaking at that moment.

"What a tool." He muttered to himself, he turned away before they could connect on a visual level. But he did not wipe the man from his mind. He would be seeing him later, that would be for sure.
 
(remember its ww2 they don't have computers yet, especially in camps)

Frank left his tent and rushed to the training grounds. He was anxious to start training and finish this war before he even started. He has a wife to get back too and he felt really bad for leaving her. Sighing to himself people began to gather and fall in line. The Sargeant came out of nowhere and began ordering them around.

First they ran around the camp twice. They then attempted an obstical course (which most of the men failed). They were made to complete said obstacle course again and again until everyone was able to pass through it. Finally decidin that was enough for the morning The Sargent sent everyone for lunch.

Making his way to the mess hall he kicked his feet. He was dead tired already and couldn't believe that he had to endure even more tortuous training. He finally reached the tent marked mess hall and entered quickly grabbing a tray and food before sitting at a random table eating slowly to sore to lift his arms any higher than his mouth.
 
Achir would have been the same, but only mentally. He hated working on those computers. He found them useless and a waste of perfectly good minds. He was trained the old fashioned way, but the future seemed to be leaning towards computers. Also, it paid more. Plain and simple. He couldn't help how stupid the army was to rely so heavily on these things. But history seems to have proven; the side with the higher tech would win.

He was surprised he didn't know the sluggish man sit down with him. "It's Frank, isn't it?" He tried to keep mostly to himself but craved some small talk. He chewed his food and let his fork clink onto the tin tray. He lifted his head with a groggy mind and noticed the state of Frank.

"God you look pathetic being unable to lift your arms like that. You'd think they just drafted you without training." He stole Frank's fork and helped him out with eating. Everyone else in the tent were minding their own business. They had their own pains to grown about, why would they care about one man feeding another one? Achir seemed to have no shame regardless, even more so with the mind of butter.

"Well, come on." He sat there, the fork hovering just in front of Frank's mouth. "Why are you being so stubborn?"
 
Frank nodded when he heard his name. He wasn't really in the mood for talking. Looking up he saw Achir.
"I didn't have any prior training, and climbing walls is hard" Frank said bitterly. He didn't want to serve in this war, and from what he's hearing it is not a war anyone wants to be in. He wasn't that strong, he was well built for him to be able to do simple tasks but these weren't simple tasks.

When Achir stole his fork he was about to voice his displeasure when he scooped up some food and shoved it to his mouth. Frank gave him an odd look before opening his mouth wide enough for the fork to get in.
 
Achir wanted to laugh at Frank. The poor man could hardly feed himself and no one seemed to care that he was practically being sexually harassed by someone of higher rank. Achir enjoyed this kind of punishment to dish out. To other's it looked like he was helping but to the person that was being helped, well it looked like harassment.

Being of East Indian decent, Achir was usually discriminated against at home. Regardless of being born there, and having a common name, people found nothing but discomfort in him being around. He joined the army, the first place he was taken in with open arms.

"Any man willing to fight for this country is my brother." Spoke the men that had trained him years prior. He understood why so many left to begin with. Anyone with a heavy heart, traded it in for an aching back and over used muscles. The labour was a way to hide away from your thoughts and sweat out any unneeded anger. He had proven himself useful, so he wouldn't be sent home.

"You should be able to sleep just fine tonight." Achir finally let out a laugh, putting down the fork. "I think I embarrassed you enough for today." Half way through the meal, he had stopped forcing food down Frank's throat. Achir stood up and smiled. "Feel free to join me in the card games, there will be five others playing black jack at my tent."
 
Frank chewed through the last bite and said "I have training all afternoon, I think I'm going to collapse," he picked up his fork and resumed eating the rest of the food slowly before getting up to go to the training grounds again. All he wanted to do at that moment was go back to his quiet life.

He was never a fighter, he always stayed out of everyones hair and made sure not to bother them too much. He's afraid of violence, and now that death will be involved he's afraid even more. He just hopes he gets stuck with the job of being a nurse or surgeon at a M*A*S*H unit. He's has a medical background that the army hasn't found yet for some reason. Hell he works at a hospital for christ sakes! Sighing knowing wishing wont get him anywhere he fell into line.

A few minutes later he had a gun thrusted into his arms as he gulped down his uncertainty.
 
Achir wasn't expecting battle to happen so soon. They were still in the middle of setting up the camp. But now it seemed they won't be needing those extra tents. Most of these men appeared to be hired as scape goats. He wasn't forced to grab a gun, he was needed else where, mainly for tech maintenance. He felt he had to protect them, this urge raged through him. As he had seen new men run off, practically untrained and disorganised he rushed out with them.

The sound for alarm set off not long after the men stepped outside the grounds of the camp. Achir watched around and was suddenly pulled back from the action.

"We need you in camp."

Achir was not one to snub authority, but he looked down right pissed when he was stopped. He said nothing but his glare said it all. The higher up commander did not fight him, but pointed in the direction he was needed. They both knew there was no time to throw down their dusty work gloves and duke it out like old fashioned American men. Achir pulled back the tent flaps looking around and being told where he was needed.
 
When the siren sounded he rose out of bed. He was taking a nap before he got interrupted by the loud siren. He mechanically put on his uniform and took his helmet. He didn't have to do much fighting now, as he was labelled a medic if the giant red cross on the helmet was any indicator. Having now slung the bag on his shoulder he grabbed his gun running out following the group.

He had no idea what was happening or where they were going but he followed anyways. He hoped they weren't falling into a trap or if it was a drill but he didn't really matter. If any of them got hurt he'd still have to take care of them.
 
Achir grumbled as he was stuck back in a tent, with no action in his sight. He remained to himself and tried his best to follow orders, but his mind was tied up with what else he could be doing.

The last he checked the men seemed to be lead south, they're attack seemed to be base solely on a spy's tip. But spies have been know to back stab them lately, as to why they chose now to listen to one was beyond him. The though of sneaking off the ground with his gun run ramped in his mind. He tried hard to vanish the thoughts with multiple tasks asked of him, it was harder than he thought. He couldn't waste all those years of hard work for some rash desire that was against another's orders.

The confusion on that newbie's face haunted him a little though. The desire to stay in safety, to go home. Then pushed into the field, unaware of what direction to take, what to expect. The poor man was probably still sore and tired from all his cardiovascular work. Maybe muscles would be torn and he'd become useless. Or maybe he'd be shocked and be a prodigy out there in the dusty tall grass and wet forests. He hoped his new friend would come back successful.
 
As they were walking in they were filled in on what was going to happen. Apparently there was a town down in the south that became occupied but the axis forces and they were to dispel them. Frank did not know why in the world they would attack in a place filled with civilians. It took thirty minutes just for them to arrive. They stopped in the middle of the town. It was way too quiet.

Suddenly a man beside Frank fell to the ground blood seeping down his forehead. It was a sniper. Some one, he didn't know if it was himself or another yelled and the whole group went into chaos as they tried to get into cover quickly. A battle commenced as men went down all around him either bleeding out because Frank couldn't get to him fast enough or dying instantly.

The battle took a long time to finish up and by the end they have lost twenty men. A tragedy for the company. They brought the bodies back to camp for a proper burial. Everyone's face marching back was sullen and slightly disoriented.
 
Achir felt as though he was being demoted. Quickly while they were in the middle of battle, he was kicked off the ham radio and sent to go clean up blood from uniforms.

"Hey, this is rookie work!" He shouted as he was shoved out the tent with blood soaked uniforms of those brought back on stretchers. He almost lost his usual cool temper and stormed back in. He would one day put his foot down and be in command. He knew it. He just knew things couldn't possibly be this bad right now. He cringed at the idea of someone ranking up during battle, taking his comfy position, his check.

To clear his mind he wandered around the crowed camp, looking at the faces. Achir counted the number of the survivors in the back of his mind. He looked around for the new faces mostly. How many did actually survive their first battle? He wondered if the person he ate his most recent meal with was still around. He still kept counting, finally finding the one face he was looking for.

"So you survived your first battle...." That's all Achir could bring himself to say. He hadn't even bothered to let the man's name register. If he knew the name he'd get attached way too fast. But by face alone he already grabbed some affection from his mind, ready for friendship. "... are, you okay?"
 
Frank upon entering the camp was swarmed with commanding officers. It wasn't until the captain came and placed him and another medic in charge of collecting all of the dog tags from the corpses and pronouncing them dead. It didn't take to long but it was emotionally draining. Especially since half of the men were younger than him.

He wandered around the camp after duty and would have just walked into the world without a care if his guilty mind and the sounds of suffering kept him in the camp. Sighing he finally collapsed onto a chair near the outskirts of the camp.

He looked up at the sky feeling the burn of tears under his eyelids. Frank was too emotionally unstable with no one to lean on which wasn't a good combination. He could feel the tears start streaming down his face. How many of those deaths were his fault? They all depended on him and a couple others to save them once they get shot. They can't get to others which forces their judgement to turn on the ones too far along.

When he heard Achir's voice he looked up wiping his face "Yes..." He started his voice shaky "Well, actually no, I'm not, nothing is okay," He bent down grabbing what hair he had and tugged on it in frustration.
 
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