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by The United Remnants of America » Tue Dec 02, 2014 4:56 am
by Reverend Norv » Tue Dec 02, 2014 8:47 am
For really, I think that the poorest he that is in England hath a life to live as the greatest he. And therefore truly, Sir, I think it's clear that every man that is to live under a Government ought first by his own consent to put himself under that Government. And I do think that the poorest man in England is not at all bound in a strict sense to that Government that he hath not had a voice to put himself under.
Col. Thomas Rainsborough, Putney Debates, 1647
A God who let us prove His existence would be an idol.
Dietrich Bonhoeffer
by Ayreonia » Tue Dec 02, 2014 3:26 pm
by The GAmeTopians » Tue Dec 02, 2014 3:48 pm
Empire of Donner land wrote:EHEG don't stop for no one.
It's like your a prostitute and the RP is a truck. The truck don't stop.
by Nature-Spirits » Tue Dec 02, 2014 4:03 pm
by Kisinger » Tue Dec 02, 2014 5:44 pm
Nanatsu no Tsuki wrote:Don't you dare take my other 75% orgasm. I'm a greedy womyn, influenced by the cold hard erection of the patriarchy.
by Ayreonia » Tue Dec 02, 2014 6:15 pm
by Pan Asian Amercian Coalition » Tue Dec 02, 2014 6:17 pm
by The Carlisle » Tue Dec 02, 2014 6:29 pm
by Cylarn » Tue Dec 02, 2014 7:30 pm
by New Zepuha » Tue Dec 02, 2014 7:58 pm
[13:31] <Koyro> I want to be cremated, my ashes put into a howitzer shell and fired at the White House.
by Republic of Hasgriu » Tue Dec 02, 2014 8:29 pm
RIP United Kingdom 1707-2016New Jordslag wrote:Dammit, just realized they have each other's names in their sigs. Yet in my two years of existence nobody quotes what I say... *crawls into corner and cries*
by Toishima » Tue Dec 02, 2014 10:04 pm
by The Carlisle » Tue Dec 02, 2014 10:09 pm
by Lolloh » Wed Dec 03, 2014 7:39 am
The United Remnants of America wrote:-snip-
by Reverend Norv » Wed Dec 03, 2014 9:15 am
For really, I think that the poorest he that is in England hath a life to live as the greatest he. And therefore truly, Sir, I think it's clear that every man that is to live under a Government ought first by his own consent to put himself under that Government. And I do think that the poorest man in England is not at all bound in a strict sense to that Government that he hath not had a voice to put himself under.
Col. Thomas Rainsborough, Putney Debates, 1647
A God who let us prove His existence would be an idol.
Dietrich Bonhoeffer
by Grenartia » Wed Dec 03, 2014 9:22 am
Cylarn wrote:Mulder kept his mouth shut as the platoon formed up before him. He could see everyone as they assembled, and his brown eyes diligently analyzed their actions as he sought to get a better picture of his men and women, allowing the Squad Leaders to demonstrate their ability to keep their squads in line. From what he saw, many of these soldiers - including some of the "veterans" - weren't really quite "chimed in" to the military lifestyle. If there was one thing that Mulder could compliment the Precambrians on, it was the fact that their standing army was much more disciplined and attuned to military life, unlike a conscript force. Several soldiers had saluted in the field, which was a big no-no unless you wanted to frag your leadership, and a few had even saluted Mulder, who wasn't supposed to be saluted. He ignored them, his eyes still scanning his troops. Not all of them were in uniform, and although Mulder was known to be relaxed with his uniform regs, he couldn't really stand it when soldiers formed up without their blouses on. At a point in which the leadership was still learning the names and faces of their troops, such negligence only hindered the bonding of the platoon. Some guys didn't even have their weapons, which was very inadvisable for frontline units.
It was time to assume command of the platoon in the PL's absence. Upon being given command, Mulder said "yes sir," and turned back to face his platoon as Rialto departed, before moving into position at the center-front of the platoon, facing them. For a short moment, he watched on as they idled away in their formation, and as others joined the formation. It was a passable formation, though not the best that Mulder had seen. In an instant, he snapped himself to attention, with his eyes facing straight in front of him. Despite being deployed in an active combat zone, they still held formations. With a loud, dominating command voice that had been perfected in the 8 years that he had spent as an NCO, he gave his first order. "Ten-hut" was the phrase he hated the most, and he chose "attention" instead.
"PLATOON, ATTEN-TION!" he bellowed, giving the squads a moment to move to the position of attention.
In most cases, he would have called them to ease. However, this was a "fresh" platoon - the majority of them had never really been deployed to such a serious combat zone - and he had seen a great number of fuck-ups during their formation. He snapped out of attention, and stood at ease, silently watching them with a scowl crafted onto his face. During his speech, he slowly paced, often throwing out a knife-hand at the platoon while putting stress on particular parts of the speech. He didn't hate any of them; he cared about his soldiers, but he wasn't about to let them become complacent, and that's how tirades factored in.
"I know for some of you, that this is your first deployment," he said, speaking at a lower volume, but still audible for the entire platoon and maintaining a stern, rather displeased tone. "However, there are some things that are termed "basic shit." If you have no clue what that means, it's the little things that you learn at Basic that are characteristic to deployment. We do not salute on field, and WE SURE AS SHIT DO NOT SALUTE NCOs AT ANY POINT! If you salute me, Lieutenant Rialto, any NCO, or any officer while here in the field, I will assume that it is your intention to get them shot by a sniper, and I will knock your fucking teeth out and turn you over to the MPs for trying to frag a superior. I have lost close friends to careless shit like that, and I will not stand for it in my platoon. Squad Leaders, this isn't your first deployment, and it is up to you to square your soldiers away and to transform them into capable, seasoned warriors. If I see someone without their blouse, they're out of uniform. If I see someone without their weapon near them, they're out of uniform and they are asking to get bushwhacked. Police your people, because it's not my job to MICROMANAGE! YOU'RE IN THE FUCKING FIELD! Act like it! Am I clear, 1st?"
He waited until the platoon bellowed a collective "YES PLATOON SERGEANT!," after which he loosened up and centered himself, facing the middle of the platoon. His scowl dropped from his face, and he replaced it with a normal stern expression before snapping back to attention.
"PLATOON, STAND AT - EASE!" he bellowed, before stepping into ease once more.
"Squad Leaders, you'll distribute chow from the crates to your squads, on my command. 1 meal per soldier, form an orderly line at each crate. We are moving out at 1430, and I want the platoon formed up back here at 1420 in full gear. There is no reason that your kit shouldn't be completely situated by then. If you're drunk or high by 1420, I will paperfuck you, because the last thing we need is to tarnish this unit's name because Werebear 1 decided to throw a fucking party and get trashed right before they got massacred by the shit-eating Precambrian fucktards! Eat a good meal, relax, and prep yourselves and your gear so that y'all can make it home and brag to the boys and girls about how you killed a bunch of bad guys."
He then snapped to attention, looking straight forward.
"PLATOON, ATTEN-TION!" he called out, giving the platoon a second to adjust. "Squad Leaders, take charge of your squads and conduct chow. ALL HAIL THE KING!"
With that, Mulder turned over the squads to their leaders, and moved over to the crates that contained the platoon's rations. There was one crate per squad, and he slowly opened up each crate to reveal the dubiously delicious meals before stepping back and allowing his platoon to get their food first.
New Zepuha wrote:Staff Sergeant McGundry stood at attention and did as he was ordered throughout the whole thing, he had been in for twenty-five years already; nothing was really new to him per say. Though many of the faces around him were so unfamiliar, he'd lost too many friends throughout this damned war and they were getting replaced by greenies. His face flushed just the slightest bit at the fact that he had formed up with his blouse sitting in a crumpled mess on his command cupola. His bare shoulders shivered in the cold air, he shrugged it off and pulled his cigar out from his mouth, pinching it between his index finger and thumb. Once the platoon head had finished his rumbling on he turned to his crew, "Right then, you heard the big boy up there we are to eat and relax.. relax yeah..." he chuckled at that, "So let's get on over there and I will fill you in on life in the fuckin' army."
Once his crew had assembled by the crate they were designated, he cracked it open digging around in the rations. "Of fuckin' course, not hot chow for us eh?" he muttered tossing boxes to his crewmen before greedily cracking open his own. "Don't worry none, when mail comes around mah dear wife sends us good treats.. mm fudge cakes and cheesy potatoes. But let's get a few ground rules set." he sniffed throwing the burnt stub of his cigar into a puddle of water. "First things first, in my bucket you can wear whatever dress you like. Just don't strip to your skivvies, shirts can go off whenever. Contrary to popular belief, it is actually beastly hot inside the damn bucket and you will sweat like a friggin' pig. I want you to perform combat ready without heat stroke, got it? Now nextly, always offer smokes around if you got 'em, we all need as much relief as we can get. But no one fuckin touches my smokes eh!?" he grumbled something wiping his nose with a hairy arm, "Last thing, keep your head in the fucking bucket, only I should be popping out during combat, I can't afford loosing any of you but you can afford my loss. Plus I need to get my hands on that big gun.. mmhmm... now my name of course is Staff Sergeant McGundry. Gurt or Sarge will work just fine. Been here 25 years, and you sorry sodders?"
by The Carlisle » Wed Dec 03, 2014 9:26 am
by The United Remnants of America » Wed Dec 03, 2014 9:42 am
Lolloh wrote:"Uh... hi? Levy Emily Rastirrik, reporting for duty, sir."
by Mincaldenteans » Wed Dec 03, 2014 10:42 am
by New Zepuha » Wed Dec 03, 2014 11:53 am
Republic of Hasgriu wrote:Private Richard
Richard hastily stopped his salute midway, placed his arm at his side, and said confidently,"Private Richard Stanislav Mikuláš Dvorak, sir! I will be IFV Godfrey's driver, sir! I have been serving for one year, sir!"
Private Dayle
"My name's Dayle Page, I'll be the gunner of our IFV. Been serving in this hellhole for 2 years.", Dayle said, and then quietly added,"This war better end bloody soon."
-snip-
[13:31] <Koyro> I want to be cremated, my ashes put into a howitzer shell and fired at the White House.
by Reverend Norv » Wed Dec 03, 2014 2:47 pm
The Carlisle wrote:Lillian looked to the squad medic when he spoke to him. She could read the man well, for he contrasted from the corporal. He's seen things and been to place, lived and lost, she could tell. Her mother always said she had a knack for reading people, though it was little more than comparing them to people and spotting the differences.
"Slatina? Well, didn't expect you to call it that. Usually outsiders just go by the official name. You worked with people from there?" she said. She waved away the cigarette. "I don't smoke. I need my lungs for the field."
For really, I think that the poorest he that is in England hath a life to live as the greatest he. And therefore truly, Sir, I think it's clear that every man that is to live under a Government ought first by his own consent to put himself under that Government. And I do think that the poorest man in England is not at all bound in a strict sense to that Government that he hath not had a voice to put himself under.
Col. Thomas Rainsborough, Putney Debates, 1647
A God who let us prove His existence would be an idol.
Dietrich Bonhoeffer
by The Kingdom of Rhamos » Wed Dec 03, 2014 3:09 pm
by Ayreonia » Wed Dec 03, 2014 4:43 pm
by Mincaldenteans » Wed Dec 03, 2014 5:39 pm
Reverend Norv wrote:Took me years to realize my mistake." The medic shook his head. "Makes you wonder what else you go through life not knowing, you know?"
Reverend Norv wrote:"Like you, Rick." Evardin nodded at the private. "Not sure I've ever heard you put three words together. Where are you from, anyway?"
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