A calm before the storm is the worst, a thought ran in Jean's head. And I am supposed to be the calmest of the bunch. He could feel both eagerness and nervousness in the air, especially during the briefing. The tension was like a bowstring, ready to be released.
Jean had been waiting for this day for months. He had been trained and drilled for the past year, taught by the experts and honing his "asset", as his camouflage ability was referenced by these experts. He felt both quite confident and excited, but also a bit nervous. And finally, Jean was going back to France, to pay back to the boches, one bullet and kill at a time.
"They really don't look like gamblers", muttered Jean in a low voice, looking around as he was walking towards the truck, cracking a small smile. He could see that a young man by the truck was quite nervous. "And hey, Espagnol" Jean said to him and patted him to a shoulder. "Try not to faint. The waiting for the inevitable gets easier with experience."
It never does, Jean knew, but the Spaniard didn't have to know that. Not yet, anyway.
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