_Some Months ago, At Stone House Barracks_ A grey and brown haired colonel looked over the records of the Marine sitting across from him, "You've come a long way haven't you Sergeant?" The man sitting across from him a Royal Marines Sergeant, the name of Ward printed on his breast nods, "Yes sir, two major conflicts, several small skirmishes, I have come a very long way sir." The Colonel nodded, "World War 2, The France debacle, and Gold Beach, wounded shortly after the landings. Time in training with the Marines, then off to Korea, wounded again there, why'd you not come off the line when you were wounded there?" Ward hrmed, "Didn't want to leave my unit sir. I saw what happened back in The Second, I got taken off the line, and ended up being sent to a whole other unit. Besides the wound in Normandy was worse then the one I took in Korea. Just a ricochet." The Colonel chuckled, "Just a ricochet. You're a tough old sod, I'll give you that. Never approached for promotion beyond sergeant though, why is that?" Ward snorted, "I got passed over sir. Others in my units were more deserving I suppose. That's alright I don't mind." the Colonel nods, "And now thirty eight, getting on in years. How many years do you think you have left in you?" Ward gave a very ungentlemanly snort, "Premission to speak a little more openly sir?" The Colonel nodded and gestured for him to proceed. Ward nodded his thanks, "Sir, I know I'm old, I know I've seen my fair share. I don't think I have more then seven years left in me, and maybe only two more on the field. The military and the marines besides have been my life sir. And I'd rather have somemore action before finding myself behind a desk...sir. No offense, sir." The colonel chuckles and pats his big heavy walnut desk, "None taken son. Well, we'll keep all this in mind. Thanks for coming in son." Ward nods, gets up and salutes. As he's heading out the colonel calls, "See your current commander about a reassignment...that Suez thing that's starting up...might need an old wise hand to help out out there. Dismissed Sergeant." Ward saluted again. ---- **_0600 HMS Eagle, Near Egyptian Coastline_** "Hey, that's a live weapon! Careful!" Ward turned to look at the young Corporal who was hollering at him. Ward hrmed, "Listen son, I outrank you for one, two this here is my safety." The older man raised his right hand and hooked and unhooked his index finger a few times. "Three, I've seen more conflict in my life then you will for awhile yet. So don't tell me what's safe and what's not. But so as not to offend your sensibilities." He swung the rifle up, clicked on the safety and then swung it up and over his right shoulder, then walked off not letting the young man say anything else. He looked quite the hard-case. His jacket is still the same one he got way back when he enlisted with the army. The same fabric, the same colors. It had a variety of mud and blood stains. A throw back to another time well over a decade ago when his generation became warriors rather then children. The rest of his kit, pants, boots, shirt all that were pristine and new, but he was adamant to keep the jacket which held part of his marine insignia. The shirt and vest under that carrying the rest. His kit bag held over his back, with ammo kit at his waist. Aside from the jacket it was all brand new. But they could take his jacket when he was dead and gone He might get flak for that from the Commanding Officer and any other hard asses in the unit, but he's stick by to this no matter what. He arrived on the cargo deck just as the clock turned. Not feeling all that bad about potentially being late, for a muster it ought to be okay. You're never late in the field ever. And as he approached, saw the two older men, smiling a little knowing there is some maturity in the unit, they could hold their own, know what to do, and where to be. What made him wary though is all of the young blood. He remembered being that young, he remembered how green he was, and how he really had to mature and work past the possibility of shedding blood and taking lives. He approached the knot of people, and at first had only eyes for their CO. He dropped his kit bag to the ground at his feet, then clicked his feet together and snapped off a salute, "Sir, Sergeant Felix Ward, Armorer, reporting Captain, sir." He didn't spare a look at the young blood or the other older gents. Just waiting for the return salute from their CO. 0600, right on the dot. Right on time.