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[sub][color=Silver][i]Train to Amone, August 26th - [b]Appraisal[/b][/i][/color][/sub]
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[color=Silver]	Jean smiled and rubbed the back of his head with a slight chuckle before beginning to tamper with his helmet. On its side was the still-image of the bullet mark that was left from Hill 58's incursion. Jean seemed to take a liking to its more memorable close-call towards death and insisted on keeping the same helmet instead of finding another one. Whether it was for a grim reminder or a grateful ode to fate was another story, however. Back to his smiling, it was definitely caused by his appreciation for the words everyone said. Franz was adamant that as a Darcsen, the two would be bound by a racial bond that could never be severed, offering to follow him through to the end and back for the sake of brotherhood and camaraderie. Isaac also shed some light onto Jean's previously absent parade by remarking his actions in leadership atop of Hill 58, which he had easily forgotten about himself. A spark of amplitude came about his mind once he'd wrapped his head around the achievements the group had made on the first battle so far. It was quite strange to see that those who'd spent only a day around one another had come this great distance in such a minute amount of time. It was surreal, in fact.

	With courage, Michael had promised to assist Lucia whenever it was possible. Jean couldn't help but chuckle to himself over the words of kindness he had for the frail and vulnerable Private amongst their ranks. She was indeed an angel to be preserved, and with the growing suspicions of Captain Middleton having something to do with her condition it was only responsible for the band of brothers and sisters here in the Platoon to do something about it. She was one of their own, after all. Jean, Isaac and Michael had all promised and reminded her that she was no longer alone and was part of the Platoon. Jean knew that in Amone, each platoon within the regiment was to be divided into Squads of a certain calibre and number, and Jean would be taking minor command over his own with whatever activity going down in the city. Whilst he knew of the briefing and was not yet inclined to share the information, there was no telling what exactly they were supposed to be doing in Amone. All the information that had been given was that the city was split into many pockets of Federation and Imperial controlled sectors and garrisons, making the interior a mess when considering who controlled the urban battlefield itself. Lucia was likely going to be joining them, which was something Jean had to bargain for with the Captain a while back. She technically [i]knew[/i] the men and women of Jean's group the best seeing as they were the only ones willing to put themselves forward for her.

	As the train continued onwards, chugging down the rails without much thought to the racket it made, Jean stared out the window, still fiddling with his rifle. Some of the mechanisms were a little stiff for a moment but the quickest spot of exterior cleaning managed to free up the clogs inside the Longfield. There was something quite peculiar about how the Longfield had been manufactured and that was how it was clearly a dominant service rifle compared to the Imperial's counterpart. Having a bolt mechanism that was angled, pointed down specifically, made it fairly easy for bolting and rapid motions to be followed up when cranking in repeating shots. Still, the Imperial current design was functioning off of a 90 degree cocking bolt that sometimes obscured the vision and fluidity of the operator. The Longfield had addressed these issues before the war had begun, which was surprising considering the Federation's reliance on the Vinlanders and their scientific progressions. Edinburgh were clearly to thank for the sturdiness of the rifle, of course.

	When his eyes trailed out of the window, Jean saw a flock of birds sail by in the wind. The sky contrasted the desolation of the countryside below with starkness. Above, they seemed beautiful and free, able to glide liberally without a care in the world. The land below told a story of horror, previous battles and homelands that had been torn from their positions and scattered like bodies from an artillery explosion. Trenches were still visible and the horizon, where the frontline had apparently pushed towards a week ago just off to the side of the Garnian Salient, held a barrelling plume of smoke and ash caused by the fiery cauldrons of the modern war. Jean simply sighed and looked back down to his gun, before speaking up once more.[/color]

[color=Aqua][b]"It's a shame really, seeing the countryside so battered. I never pictured it to be this bad, but when Private Louis Vanhousen, y'know that more recent famous poet from Edinburgh, described the landscapes as lunar-apocalyptic, it was unbelievable. I guess there's a bittersweetness to its sight, knowing that this can act as a reminder for our future selves never to repeat this atrocity again. Whether that's from the death of a friend or the responsibility weighed down upon us, our shoulders, we all have something to remind us of why this is such a terrible outing."[/b][/color] [color=Silver]Quickly, he snapped back into reality, after having spoken (mainly to himself) in a soliloquy of curiosity. Jean turned to the men around him and smiled, standing up once more to create more room. He left his helmet on the table yet continued to carry his rifle. Jean knew, though hadn't dwelt upon the thought as much as he should've, on Daniel's request to talk to him once more. It was a worrisome request, but the man recently had his promotion and it was likely to remind Jean that he was now responsible for their lives and should control his emotions because of the dangers they held. Eagerly, however, he was stood not for that reason and instead looked back at the comrades he was temporarily leaving behind.[/color] [color=Aqua][b]"Us boys show promise, though. They say brotherhood and camaraderie goes a long way on the battlefield, so if we stay together as one, we'll surely see the end of this conflict, no matter who the victor is. We might not all be soldiers, but we are all defenders of something, whether nationalism, pride, honour, familial values or morality. I'll see you lads later, I've got to go ask Staff Sergeant Baker if he has a spare [url=http://www.sofmilitary.co.uk/products/Enfield-303-Bullets-on-Stripper-Clip-250416.JPG]stripper magazine[/url] collection; I think I left mine back in the dugout in Garnia."[/b][/color]

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[sub][color=Silver][i]Train to Amone, August 26th - [b]Climbing Frames[/b][/i][/color][/sub]
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[color=Silver]	After two hours of the train's journey, something sparked up in Lucia's eyes. She'd been relieved from Captain Middleton's watchful eye and began to retreat further down the cabin, a strange smile upon her face. Some of the soldiers around her greeted her in a friendly way, some even complimenting her as an angel. She would fluster and giggle at their words, finding herself open to a life of strange consistency and happiness that she'd never encountered before and during Middleton's experimentation on her mentality. Part of her knew that going around in a go-lucky style was ill-advised and definitely something her superior would not fully embrace as complimentary to his work, yet it made it more exciting to know the factor. Some of the people around her showed a brash and almost rebellious side she'd never thought to explore, and so the darling of Assen wandered down from carriage to carriage, greeting, thanking and giving her grace towards every known soldier she could see.

	It occurred to her, however, that when she reached the last carriage she had not yet seen the members of her Platoon, who were amongst the nicest she had encountered yet. With a fabulous smile, she continued onward and only hung on to a slight sense of worry that Michael and Isaac hadn't boarded the train by accident and were left behind. Contrary to this belief, however, she managed to spy them moments later in their own cabin, now with another soldier who she vaguely recognised. Lucia almost burst into the room with a timid but bright grin on her face, squealing a name or two of the ones who'd prominently helped her before.[/color]

[color=A9FF7D][b]"Isaac! Mickey!"[/b][/color] [color=Silver]Something must've felt strange, as suddenly a new light was being showered upon them. Now that she was outside of the battlefield, she had the chance to let her mind flow free of creativity and worry at the sights of her two guardians, to which she brightly walked towards with a slight skip to each step. Both of her hands were tightly held behind her back as she wandered inside, nodding with both eyes shut and a wide grin. She stood in the doorway and took off her helmet, placing it on the table alongside where Jean had left his and beamed towards the three still left in the room, Franz included. However, only having heard it from other people talking to one another about him, she gave a wrong but wild guess as she looked at him.[/color] [color=A9FF7D][b]"Hello Francis! I hope you're doing well now that we're away from that horrid place."[/b][/color]

[color=Silver]	With striking euphemism, she deliberately refused to refer to the previous battlegrounds to anything less than a horrid place, almost nullifying how internally and externally damaging the Battle of Hill 58 had actually been. It was where she'd claimed her first life, and yet it wasn't even one of the Imperials. A conflicting mix of emotions always surrounded that minute, the one where she pulled the trigger on the retreating girl, and as she watched her corpse fall back into the trench once she'd finally succumb to the bullet wound to the neck.

	Even so the thought was still lurking at the back of her head, one thing she had taken for granted from Captain Middleton's teachings was her new ability to suppress true emotions whenever she wanted. It was still a hard challenge to commit towards, but in that moment Lucia managed to force herself to forget about the brutality of Garnian's Salient and instead focus on the three youthful guys before her, to which Middleton had previously told her not to mingle with too much. Either way, she was not exactly going to lose anything around them, was she? And if she did, there wasn't much she could lose that was inherently bad, was there? With a strange giggle, she suddenly walked towards Michael and began to awkwardly clamber over him. It was rather innocent, but she simply crawled across the table, gently trying to push past Michael in order to get to the seat next to him, before sitting herself down without having been invited. She giggled again at the fact she'd just used her own comrade as a climbing frame before she began to speak again.[/color]

[color=A9FF7D][b]"Sorry Mickey. This seat looks more comfy. I saw a pillow here anyway."[/b][/color] [color=Silver]For some reason, it was quite obvious that the girl had come from a sheltered lifestyle that was simply taken away from her within an instant. If it hadn't been for Middleton, who still sheltered her from the necessities of a social mentality, she would have simply wandered aimlessly looking for a purpose in life like she had with the refugees. Using Michael as a climbing frame for a second just to snuggle up to the wall-and-pillow seat was still quite a strange act, even for her standards. Still, she continued to giggle politely to herself, before continuing once more.[/color] [color=A9FF7D][b]"Captain Middleton said he didn't need to talk to me until tomorrow, so he dismissed me. And so I wanted to sneak over here to talk to you guys. I wanna give a big thank you because you've all been very nice to me, even though our superiors say I shouldn't get friendly with others unless ordered to."[/b][/color]

[color=Silver]	Before long, she quickly unflipped a small notepad from her breast pocket and a small graphite pencil before she began to look at Michael, Isaac and Franz to scribble some small pictures down. She suddenly held a strong face of concentration, one that seemed to sporadically change from her previous and outlandish presentation of giddiness. Continuously, Lucia maintained her pencil to her paper with striking motions as she scribbled away, talking to herself whilst doing it. In-between every few scribbles, she would look up to Michael, smile politely and then go back to her drawing, before shutting the book and refusing to show anyone.[/color]

[color=A9FF7D][b]"No looking. But I'll show you someday, if you're kind to me."[/b][/color] [color=Silver]Lucia continued to smile, closing her eyes once more as she did it. But before long, she already lifted her legs into a sort of fetal posture by curling against the wall and pillow. It seemed to be the first real comfort she'd had in a while, and every moment of it was to die for.[/color] [color=A9FF7D][b]"I saw Jean and I knew it was a good idea to thank you all for being so kind to me. I don't have many friends here in the Federation Army, and I don't have many people to go back to at home, but you've all made me feel like I belong somewhere and it's all I could ask for in this terrible world. Soooo...Thank you Francis, Isaac and Mickey!"[/b][/color] [color=Silver]And just like that, she stretched her arms out and gave a rapid hug to each and every one of them, one by one, before clambering back over Michael a second time to snuggle up in her pillowed position again. From here, she didn't say anything and just listened to everyone else. For once, she was caught in the moment of hearing stories of other people, and simply sat there for hours with a warming smile on her face. It was the best she could do to return them of their kindness.[/color]

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[sub][color=Silver][i]Train to Amone, September 2nd - [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XfR9iY5y94s][b]Boarding the Wartime Express[/b][/url][/i][/color][/sub]
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[color=3D06D2][b]"Bloody hell. You can trust the Federation to put up a good fight with the Imps but they can't hold a candle to their train schedules, ey?"[/b][/color] [color=Silver]A few laughs from the newer soldiers and familiar experienced Oceanic troops came from around him. He'd already become something of an icon towards those who were waiting around to their new assignments. Many of those all around him were new soldiers, fresh meat from the training camps who were awaiting to be tenderised by the brutality of the war ahead. Unlike them, however, the Oceanic soldiers who were being sent to join them were all made up of those who'd at least served six months at a minimum in the war itself. It seemed the boys and girls from the Dominion, like Thomas, were all eager to stop waiting around and just get back to work. None of them wanted to really be in the war, but to help with the morale of the greenhorns awaiting in the same train station as they were none of them showed any fear. It was the Oceanic way to present confidence and prestige. How else had they garnered such reputations as the best shocktroopers in all of the Europan War?

	Thomas held some nationalistic pride in knowing that the war had completely shaped the view of Oceanic men and women across the Federation. Previously, their overlords in Edinburgh primarily were dismissive of giving praise to the Oceanic government and simply considered them as a colonial prospect for new life. Some even reduced their existence to [i]evolutionary experiments to withstanding harsher climates[/i]. Bullshit, Thomas would always say. Oceania held the toughest outbacks the Federation had to offer, and the wildlife down there knew exactly why. They made infertile lands liveable and profitable for the farmers, like Thomas' family, down in his home-country. Life was hard but fun down there. Not a single Europan soul could adjust to such conditions so quickly as the Oceanic natives could.

	Now, however, the war had allowed them to prove themselves as combat soldiers and troops of the frontier. The new war had been told to hold the most outrageous of conditions the world had ever seen. Cold trenches that were filled to the brim with water and mud. Seemed like a regular bath in the horse's trough, Thomas thought. Great bonanzas of firefights, men clambering on top of one another to beat the life out of each other. Hell, sounded just like how he used to play with his father as a child. None of the Oceanic soldiers wore helmets. They all wore the same hats, each with their own tiny variation to set them apart from one another, from brim tilts to feathers and more. Thomas felt a strong clamber to his right arm, clearly being his companion once more. Freya, of course, seemed to always be a bit [i]touchy[/i] with the people she spoke to. It was an alluring experience most men and women fell for if they swung such ways, but Thomas was immune to her natural bereavement.[/color]

[color=FF0202][b]"Don't be rude, Tommy-boy. Don't want some stupid cunt threatening you with yet another demotion."[/b][/color] [color=Silver]She laughed before flickering her blonde fringe aside to see better, gently letting go of Thomas' arm again to eagerly peer down the train tracks. All around the greenhorns and Oceanic troops who were awaiting the pickup, soldiers and nurses who'd been sent to the very rear lines were bustling around in sporadic unison. The frontlines had managed to move quite far forward, at least another fifty miles away from where the train station currently was. Even though they were so far back, the land had still been ravished by the conflicts of the Imperials and Federation beforehand. At least two years before, towards the first and second year of the conflict, this land was once the Imperial frontline, getting ready to push onwards, but now it was a simply railway system for the Federation. It was a strange thought indeed.[/color]

[color=3D06D2][b]"I'll do whatever the bloody 'ell I want, Frey. Now bugger off and flirt with some other geezer, right?"[/b][/color] [color=Silver]Freya and several other Oceanic troops began to laugh, before they started spreading out slightly. Thomas, specifically, wandered towards a soldier he'd only known the name of from others talking, one who was the many greenhorns around. For once, Thomas knew that the confident, or nervous, looking individual could use some of the veteran's talk. Truth behold, Thomas hated the war and the suffering that came with it, but what good was it to not approach it all with a cracking smile on his face and the need to punch the nearest man-sized bird back home?[/color] [color=3D06D2][b]"Gwyn, right? Loosen yourself up, you look like a surgeon just pumped y'full of metal."[/b][/color]

[color=Silver]	He jokingly patted the smaller boy on the back and grinned brightly. Everyone here must have known about what they were getting into. According to the officers around them, the regiment they were being assigned to had gained some notoriety in the recent weeks but were also struck extremely badly. The charge of Hill 58 was becoming a nicely known story as it spearheaded a major frontier on the northern end of the Europan Front. It was a step closer to Gallia, who'd also been caught in the crossfire after a rapid invasion for resources committed by the Imperials. It further fuelled his distrust towards their military standing, knowing that they were breaching the true rules of war. In fact, the act sickened him to a certain degree, but Thomas remained reluctant to let that anger show. Most of the newer soldiers, as well as the Oceanic troops, were clearly nervous from the fact they were being assigned to a regiment with such a high mortality rate in the previous battle it was within. With all of that aside, the newer soldiers were excited to see their hero, the recently promoted Captain Middleton, who was an icon throughout the civilian homes of the Federation.[/color]

[color=3D06D2][b]"Don't take the jokes seriously, lad. Just an down-under tradition to keep the giddiness going, especially in rough times. Nervous about joining a regiment some could call cursed, or are you just excited to finally meet your Federation hero, or whatever, and get some Imperial arse?"[/b][/color] [color=Silver]Thomas chuckled as suddenly, the soldiers who were all waiting began to cheer in unison as their carriages began to come around the corner. It slowly drifted its way into the station and let off a boundless set of steam upon the awaiting soldiers, who began to slowly clamber aboard and fill all of the empty spaces there were to fill. Most of these soldiers were definitely newbies from within the training grounds, whereas only about 20% of the replacements were Oceanic, to say the least. Either way, Thomas patted the arms of Gwyn again and chuckled, giving his usual insight of encouragement.[/color] [color=3D06D2][b]"Remember, fucking-lad, the reason this war ain't over is because we haven't yet had a chance to scare the imps off. One look at you and they'll be waving that good ol' white flag, am I right?"[/b][/color]

[color=Silver]	If only he could share the harsh reality of the war with these confident sprites. Perhaps he could have saved their expectations. Clearly they were davids joining the Goliaths of the 15th Atlantic Rifles, new soldiers who'd already been through hell. Whether or not they'd welcome or shun their new replacements' confidence and adventurous sides was something that was yet to be discovered...[/color]

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