[h3]Sergeant Harald, Gallian Militia[/h3]

Growing up as a ward of what passed for Darktown's authorities, Harald had gotten used to the tasteless grey gruel that passed for communal meals. As soon as he had the means though, he began to explore more palatable options, with beef in red wine soon becoming a favourite. His personal quarters were only NCO quality, but that hadn't stopped him from setting up a makeshift oven in one corner. As the rest of the squad set about collecting ratpacks and loaves of bread from the stores, Harald instead took the time to prepare for himself some premium meals. With all the cutting and seasoning complete, he sat by the open window, smoking leisurely as he kept an eye on the stewing steaks. Eventually the calm silence was broken by a soft knock and a less than elegant entry of a small figure. The Sergeant stared blankly as she stuttered, marvelling at how Fina had managed to fall through a half open door. [b]'Uh... no need to apologise Private, just... take a seat.',[/b] he replied slowly, indicating a chair by his work desk. [b]'I'll be with you momentarily.'[/b] With a few swift movements, Harald finished and threw the cigarette, gave the pot an industrious stir and lowered the heat to simmer. After pouring two cups of strong tea, he sat down behind his desk and passed one drink over. [b]'I'll be honest, I wasn't informed of your transfer. We've had a lot of people coming and going since we arrived here... No injuries of course.'[/b] [i]Not yet,[/i] he thought darkly. He paused for a long moment, looking the younger soldier up and down. She didn't strike him as particularly capable... But then again, neither did Jatmoore or even Stichler if he was honest... He tried to convince himself that he just didn't want to see any cute young women come to harm, but even that seemed a bit condescending. [b]'You missed the briefing so I guess the first order of business is to get you up to speed.'[/b] Digging through the paperwork on his desk, Harald eventually produced and handed over a set of maps. [b]'Vasel. Ever heard of it? Major transport hub. Militia's hitting it next week.'[/b] He went over the briefing as the Captain had before, adding in a few extras of his own. It was pretty handy to be able to lay it out like this; if nothing else, it allowed Harald the chance to triple check the plan and recheck the maps. [b]'... and that's the long and short of it. First stop is La Haye Sainte and from there I'll pick a second target. Any questions?'[/b]

Unfortunately, she didn't have much time to answer. A minute after he finished outlining the operation, a polite knock heralded Harald's second visitor of the night. [b]'By all means, Corporal. Come in, have a cup of char.'[/b] Returning Stichler's salute with a half-hearted one of his own, Harald made his way back to the oven to stir the bubbling pot. [b]'Rare for me to have so many young ladies calling on me of an evening... not that I'm complaining.'[/b] His tone was relaxed and perhaps a bit playful. Ideally, he would like the entire squad to sit down and have a few drinks together before going out into he field again, if only to get to know one another. Hell, about the most personal thing he knew about any of his troops was that Sykora liked drawing. Or possibly writing, he hadn't had too close a look. He listened thoughtfully as the Corporal gave her apologies, stewing a new pot of tea. [b]'Stichler, it is your job as my second to keep order among the squad as I formulate plans and give orders. You did get a bit hot-headed out there today, but nevertheless you did your job as a corporal. Here. Mind your hand, it's hot.'[/b] After passing a fresh cup of tea to both girls, he sat back by the open window and began rolling another cigarette. [b]'Alright then; what did you want to discuss?'[/b]

[hr]

A few hours later, Harald was once again alone in his quarters. The beef had been cooked, dried and wrapped in linen, the vegetables were packed in sacks and he had made sure to fill a hip flask with the finest Imperial port he could find. Pretty bourgeois for a lowly Sergeant, but Harald was nothing if not resourceful. With all the work done, he sat down at his desk to eat a late dinner and finish the reports from today's training battle. Of course about halfway through his beef sandwich, the door slammed open. Massaging the shock from his chest, Harald glared daggers at the engineer. [b]'[i]Fucking hell[/i] Carn, I nearly shit myself...'[/b] He knew he ought to do something about Carn's insubordinate attitude too, but something told him it would be pointless. Still, work came first... [b]'Sure sure... I trust you've done a good job, but I might as well take a look.'[/b] Stuffing the remaining sandwich in his mouth, Harald led the way out toward the garages.

[h3]Lieutenant Beirmann, Imperial Army[/h3]

Walking slowly amongst the ruins of the Gallian defences, Marcus came across a wounded man fighting for breath. A lot of truths had changed in the Gallian's world this last hour, as dozens and then hundreds of his compatriots had fallen to an enemy that had no hope of defeating. Tanks had been torn in two, bunkers cracked like eggs and for all the lances and anti-tank guns has fired, not a single Imperial tank had fallen. Marcus found it all rather amusing, although he acknowledged that was the sneering imperialist in him talking. The wounded man didn't look particularly frightened of him, frightened of anything in fact. Instead he merely sat there in shock as his blood drained away, perhaps realising the implications of today's battle. If the Empire could take a heavily defended ridge with such ease, then...? Marcus didn't allow him to finish the thought, putting the Gallian out of his misery with a single shot to the head. A mercy, at least as far as the Lieutenant saw it. He made his way back to 655's camp.

[b]'Ma'am. [i]Siegfried[/i] performed beyond expectations; no lance nor shell could penetrate her and no foe could withstand the 120mm.'[/b] As field tests went, today was a resounding success. If he was in charge the entire Empire would begin mass-producing [i]Siegfrieds[/i] tomorrow. Alas, such decisions were an order of magnitude above his pay grade and so Marcus instead settled down with the Major in her tent. He had brought along his crew too, to ensure that Mooringstar received every bit of feedback possible. [b]'Gentlemen, sit. Give the Major your opinions on [i]Siegfried's[/i] systems.'[/b] [i]And suggestions for improvement,[/i] he added mentally, although he knew that Sigismund at least would need little encouragement. Marcus kept his own opinions to himself, well aware that his role as commander was to coordinate the talents of his crew. About the only extra thing he wished the tank featured were leather seats...