[center][h2][color=00a651]Private First Class Macdonald[/color][/h2][/center]

The lancer was heavy on Andrew's shoulder as he walked through the streets of... he couldn't remember what the city was actually called at the moment. It didn't really matter because soon enough he and everyone else who had signed up would no doubt end up moving on to the next battlefield soon enough, but for the moment it was a breather from the constant barrage of death and destruction that he had born witness to from the onset of the war. He had lost count of the number of tanks that he had seen destroyed... of the countless bodies that he had walked past or taken shelter with...

Andrew shook his head as he tried to silence those morbid thoughts. He hadn't been sleeping lately and a small part of him was thankful that the Empire had set a fire to cover their retreat; It gave him the chance to sit down and hopefully get a proper rest for the first time in days. 

Like many of the other enlisted men and women of Gallia, Andrew had taken to looking through the abandoned houses for food, water and a comfortable bed to crash on for the night; Light would also be welcomed but one could improvise in that regard. In fact he had located a bag of potatoes and some onions early on in his 'salvage operation' of the city that he was using as a counter balance over his shoulder opposite the lancer. 

It was during his search of the city that he spied some people wearing a very [i]familiar[/i] looking squad uniform... and a grin appeared on his face as he found where he was going to be crashing tonight. 'Course, he was going to have to find whomever was in charge and offer them his transfer papers back into Squad 4 proper after his stint with the armored column, but small things.

"[color=00a651]Who's in charge here? I come baring onions and potatoes.[/color]" Because food was always a good way to make an entrance.