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Yay! Golly Gee Willigums! Might even return to active duty! ... Wait that's not a good thing. Oh well, throwing my character in again! Pfc: Phil 'The Shill' Dotten Branch: US Army Position: Rifleman Bio: Phil's dad was a WW2 vet who after the war got employed at GE making cars. His dad saw that as the success to a middle class life and all that came with it. In school, Phil wasn't a particularly good student. Not particularly attentive or gifted. But what Phil was good at was people. Not silver tongued or charismatic. But what Phil was good at was wheeling and dealing. Finding things, exchanging things, and then making sure people who wanted them got them. Phil never dealt in blackmail or outright theft (they would always come back to bite you) but ran a moderately successful pawnbroker's shop out of his dad's garage when he was 16. He graduated from high school with far better grades than he deserved and had no plans on going to college. When this 'draft' thing came up Phil was pretty sure he could get out of it. He knew a doctor that owed him a favor and he had a couple hundred bucks worth of very nice alcohol he planned on using to get a 'deferment'. However, tragedy struck in the form of a sudden vacation and Phil had nothing particularly useful to give to said draft board. So, put through basic and shipped over Phil is eternally one of those 'I know a guy' type who can get at least minor favors from about anyone in the company. He trades in almost anything he can get his hands on - drugs, small arms, alcohol, porn. If you want some less than official 'guns' that aren't army issue, he can maybe get them (The Quartermaster has a fondness for some real nice hooch, Phil knows one of the locals in Saigon who makes it). None of this comes for free of course. But Phil generally holds up his end of the deals and his product is generally good. Still leaves most folks feeling a little greasy with him. But he knows a guy.
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Jul 17, 2019 05:02
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Good grief, Feinstein isn't dead! He's not even badly hurt. I'd feel really bad if anything happened to him now, he's been around long enough for me to actually start to care for him.
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Jul 17, 2019 14:35
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 Faction: ANZAC Name: John 'Bluegum' Schumann Age: 19 Hometown: Townsville, Queensland, Australia. Bio: The only son of a widowed mother (his father was a fisherman, lost at sea) this tall lanky redhead grew up fast and tough in a town hugely dependent on the Australian army base and visits from American forces. He joined the cadets to keep out of trouble, joined the army when he was old enough because he enjoyed the outdoor lifestyle and sense of order. His battalion has relatively recently been deployed to Vietnam and are still being integrated into the forces at Phuoc Troy province. The tropical weather, insects, and hostile communist insurgents have yet to break the laconic Queenslander's calm exterior, but he can get a bit excitable about Americans, especially when complaining about their tactics and training with his mates. Quiet on his feet despite his size, and a decent shot. Maybe the Australians will never make an appearance, but here's one in case they do. thatbastardken fucked around with this message at 09:43 on Jul 18, 2019 |
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Jul 18, 2019 03:17
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 A CHANGE FNG has significant RPG elements...if you want to use them, known as Saturday in Saigon variants on the rules. After the abject horror the squad went through, I've decided in my wisdom as the Colonel to send you off for a week of R&R for 10 days. 0707 FEBRUARY 11 1966 Music: Righteous Brothers - You've Lost That Loving Feeling Guthrie got his shoulder tapped by one of the dicks who worked at administration. Briefly resisting the desire to punch him into the next dimension, he turned around. Some specialist with a very clean uniform looked at him, perhaps a little nervous to see the grizzled veteran. "Can I HELP you?" Guthrie asked, dropping ashes from his cigarette on the specialist's polished boots. "Yeah...uh, you...you uh have been approved Sergeant, for your squad that is. You can take R&R starting on the 13th through the 23rd. You can make travel plans now..." the meek specialist said, trying to find any reason to escape. Guthrie's mood changed, and a smile went across his face. "Thanks Davidson!" he said, immediately dropping his cigarette on the man's boots before heading back to the enlisted quarters. Crashing through, he woke up Einstein and Bac, who were enjoying some extra hours of sleep because of the lack of formation that day. "poo poo!" yelled, Bac, diving for his rifle. "Easy! Easy!" replied Guthrie. "R&R's been approved. For Einstein, Bac, and I. If we want to travel together we should make arrangements as soon as possible." he continued. "Um, where to then?" said Einstein. He really wanted his alone time, but he wasn't going to protest to the Sergeant. "Well we've got some options. Saigon, Hong Kong, Seoul, Tokyo... or if we make quick arrangements I can get us on a flight to Honolulu. "Hmm..." the men thought collectively.  Drone, Bacarruda, FrangibleCover this is your time in the sun, as a congratulations for surviving that horrible morass with minor to no injury! Reply to the thread within twenty-four hours where you want to go. Different areas have different game play effects, and you might meet new faces, get fresh information, gain exp if you're especially well rested, and possibly get up to no good. Everyone else gets to vote if there is a tie! Top Hats Monthly fucked around with this message at 17:25 on Jul 18, 2019 |
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Jul 18, 2019 16:03
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I've watched enough M*A*S*H in my youth to decide that some leave time in Tokyo would be the bee's knees. Let's all get mind-boggling drunk while wearing kimonos. Honolulu would be a close second, though after all he's been through I'm not entirely convinced that Guthrie wouldn't use the chance of being on American soil again to desert.
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Jul 18, 2019 16:07
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Drone posted:I've watched enough M*A*S*H in my youth to decide that some leave time in Tokyo would be the bee's knees. Let's all get mind-boggling drunk while wearing kimonos. Honolulu would be a close second, though after all he's been through I'm not entirely convinced that Guthrie wouldn't use the chance of being on American soil again to desert.
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Jul 18, 2019 16:25
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Oh yeah, personally I'd want Guthrie to stay because this LP rules, but he'd definitely be tempted.
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Jul 18, 2019 16:49
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Tokyo sounds like a plan, as long as there's enough money to last the trip but Hong Kong would prolly be a more cost-effective place to get sloshed while getting into fights with Aussies, Brits and local Triads.
Triple A fucked around with this message at 17:30 on Jul 18, 2019 |
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Jul 18, 2019 17:25
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Faction: United Stats Army Name: Alexander Rosemont Sex: Male Age: 23 Hometown: Maybee, Michigan Interested in Special Role? Medic please! Character description: Born in a small town in Michigan, Alex was also too different for his own good. He wanted to go beyond the stifling confines of Maybee, and avoid getting married to the Haymich boy next door. He fled to Chicago, changed his name, met people in the 'community' who taught him how to bind and dress the way he wished before he eventually got surgery. He studied medicine at the University of Chicago and planned on opening on a practice in the more under served parts of the city. However the growing casualty lists coming in from Vietnam made him sign up for the Army, using the last of his stipend to bribe the army doctors to overlook the abnormalities on his file.
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Jul 18, 2019 17:34
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Tokyo's, like, the center of the consumer technology world at this point. When my dad was laid up in Tokyo in March '68, his back pay was spent on a state-of-the-art reel-to-reel tape recorder.
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Jul 18, 2019 17:35
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If it comes down to a public gallery vote for tiebreaking, I've got to go for Tokyo. Too much of an opportunity not to have three Marines in a completely different alien place, that's actually on their side for a change. And because I had an idea while bored at work: Faction: Civilian Name: Jeanne Boucher Sex: Female Age: 28 Hometown: Phan Thiết ((probably botched the Vietnamese on this and any future names, any correction would be appreciated)) Description: Jeanne, a second-generation colonial, has had a relatively plush early life torn away from her by two wars. Her father's father had set up a small Francophile restaurant in the downtown, Le Lotus Bleu, and it was humming along nicely as a colonial treat by the time she was born. At that time, of course, the French were tolerated, if not loved, and all was well. Her father, however, volunteered as a soldier after Germany invaded Poland, and was killed at Lạng Sơn in September 1940 in the brief resistance to Japan. The occupation was ... harsh on a little girl like Jeanne, but she endured and learned in the way bitter teens do. Her mother lasted better than most of her countrymen, and dug her heels in when the French government abandoned "French Indochina" in 1954 and made her daughter and her new husband (Valois) stay with her to keep the restaurant running. She passed away (admittedly peacefully) in 1955, leaving the restaurant (and the family's savings) to her. Times were hard with most of the former colonials breaking for the homeland, and the Viet Cong guerrilla campaign starting in 1959 didn't help, but Jeanne had managed to slowly change the character of the place to be more Vietnamese and keep enough of a customer base going to keep the pair afloat. But, after Americans arrived in slowly increasing numbers, wanting to eat somewhere that at least spoke "European", things picked up. She even managed to have a daughter last year, Eveline, and start properly planning to sell up and leave. Perhaps to France, back to Nice with Valois' extended family, or perhaps to America; God knows there were enough of them about right now, and how hard could it be to book a ticket back to the USA as a sympathetic "Frenchie" once she had enough money to pay for passage? Then, three months ago, while she was bringing in a delivery of fish from the harbour, a 'Cong bomb went off, aimed at killing any American servicemen eating there at the lunch time rush. It worked; three Marines were wounded and one died. It also killed Valois and Eveline; the bomb gutted the restaurant and set off fires that rapidly spiraled out of control. Now, again, she has nothing; only her savings she's no intent on spending on fixing the husk that used to be her family home. What to do next is ... entirely beyond her right now. Perhaps the Americans might care to help. Perhaps not. Perhaps she might go and do something about it?
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Jul 18, 2019 20:43
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Seoul. I hear Delgado's got a cousin serving up on the DMZ, fighting his own war. Be nice to see him and hear if the North Koreans are really as tough as Charlie... Bacarruda fucked around with this message at 06:46 on Jul 19, 2019 |
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Jul 18, 2019 23:18
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We’re going to Tokyo with a transfer day in Seoul because adding more depth to the characters is always fun. Get your enka music ready.
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Jul 19, 2019 16:10
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"The Gang Gets Mugged by the Yakuza" https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=idoYCVLh2qI
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Jul 23, 2019 16:27
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1900 FEBRUARY 13 1966 A FANCY RESTAURANT NEAR INCHON Music: Lee Mi Ja - Yellow Mast  "Missed you, cuz." said Maj. Juan Delgado "No need for the formal military poo poo. You're blood." the elder Delgado cousin spoke, with a big grin. Juan was always the successful type. Played football for the Army Cadets in their very successful season, a student of Vince Lombardi's game. Conventionally attractive, and very quick witted, the Major seemed to have it all. The same couldn't quite be said for our friend Bac, the drop-out. "How are you?" asked Bac, slipping into an uncomfortably low seat at the Seoul restaurant. "Well when you passed that message up the chain that quick that you were coming to Seoul I pulled some strings to get out of my obligations for today. Captain Mason bitched about it but he's handling most of my work today." said Juan. "How are your northern friends?" said Bac, laughing about how much easier it seemed to be here. He didn't have a full service restaurant in Bong Son, that's for sure. "Well it has been quiet. But between you and me, I think things are going to get a lot worse." said Juan glumly "Our allies pulled some big divisions to join you boys down in 'Nam, and their northern compatriots have been moving a lot of material this way. Don't like to think about it." "Well if they're half as tough as VC it'll be unique." said Bac, stirring his drink with his finger, before a glance from his cousin got him to stop. "Less than two weeks ago we lost most of our squad." said Bac in a hushed tone. "poo poo. I mean, I've seen combat too. Never that bad. My friend Gerry lost his head to a Lebanese sniper though in '58." said Juan, trying to relate and failing. "Yeah...now imagine what happened to Gerry happening to you at least 20 times in the span of a few months. That'll get to you. I try not to let that stuff get back to mama and papa. I can just see mama punching random grunts to see if she can get a discharge on my behalf." Bac chuckled. Juan contemplated the actual statement between his cousin's laughs. He could tell that the spitfire of a cousin he'd known his whole life was losing that spark. A waiter placed two large helpings of galbi onto the table, and went to refill Bac's drink. The two dined and continued their conversation. "So you're lugging around a prick huh?" said Juan, diverting the conversation with the art of carrying heavy radios well below his rank and station. "Yeah, it is hard work and I have to often be with the guys who will be getting shot at the most, but I think most of the time I have spent fighting is with the knobs and frequencies than VC or NVA." Bac said. "Have you heard any news about Jenny and Pedro?" said Juan, cutting into his beef. "Jenny is good, celebrating her quinceañera next week I think. Pedro got into Pennsylvania. I think he's gonna dodge this mess entirely. Wants to be a doctor." Bac continued. "I'm glad. Listen Bac. It would be hard but I can...pull some strings. See you transferred to a radio nest in Honolulu or San Francisco, or bring you up here. I can tell you're not doing well. The engineering guys around here could use a radio operator. Maybe turn that into an education." Juan said, putting his cutlery down. "Voy a pensar en ello." said Bac. The two quietly dined. Across the massive Seoul metro, Guthrie had to deal with a newly found nemesis. Not the war, the North Vietnamese or draft cards. One Pvt. Feinstein, a bar that catered towards American servicemen, and a host of very offended Korean citizens, whose sidewalks have been terrorized by an aforementioned soldier. Top Hats Monthly fucked around with this message at 21:56 on Oct 15, 2019 |
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Oct 15, 2019 20:20
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Yes, it's back! This will be a fun detour. 
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Oct 15, 2019 20:29
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Let me guess, he found a local vendor selling Korean cuisine many Americans would find disagreeable and/or picked a fight in a fit of drunkenness.
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Oct 15, 2019 21:09
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Triple A posted:Let me guess, he found a local vendor selling Korean cuisine many Americans would find disagreeable and/or picked a fight in a fit of drunkenness. Alcohol is both a sweet and cruel mistress, especially for the uninitiated, traumatized, and egged on.
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Oct 15, 2019 21:55
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Glad to see this is back! 
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Oct 16, 2019 08:38
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2351 FEBRUARY 13 1966 ???, SEOUL Music: Johnny Cash - Ring of Fire "Fffffuck you!" said Feinstein, his eighth shot of hard liquor disagreeing severely with his uninitiated stomach. He had been at this bar for less than 45 minutes, and the patrons, Korean and American, were staring blankly. The bartender had cut off Feinstein for becoming clearly intoxicated. At a rough place like this, that was truly an achievement. Guthrie shot up from his seat on the other end, pushing through his stupor to contain the furious Californian. "What did YOU saaaaaay about...me...bitch..." Feinstein stammered. "I could call Westmoreland and he would talk to YOUR generals and have you put away forever!" he continued, shouting at the bartender who clearly had had enough. "Leave." the bartender declared. "Get out." By this point, Guthrie had reached Feinstein's position and grabbed him by the shoulder and Feinstein tried to break free but failed. Feinstein threw his shot glass to the ground, shattering it. Four Korean patrons went outside to greet the drunk Americans. "You're a god drat disgrace, I oughta call the MPs." said the disappointed Guthrie, in a voice many sons know. Guthrie dragged Feinstein to the door, where Feinstein proceeded to hurl more insults. One American serviceman got up and approached the bar and asked for a phone.  The crest of the Judge Advocate General, the lawyers and courts of the army. Something that Feinstein might be visiting very soon. As the two got outside, they froze. A large group of people from all walks of life were waiting. Feinstein threatened a random passerby, who took off running. A simple fight that could've taken place in the bar was growing into hatred. No police in sight. Feinstein threw his hands in the air and waved his hand, calling for someone to strike him. Guthrie tried to shove his hands down. Then someone threw a rock, it hit Guthrie in the face. Guthrie wrestled with Feinstein and pulled him back into the bar, slamming the door behind him. The crowd outside banged on the door, and shouted jeers that would almost certainly be incredibly offensive if the two spoke any Korean. Some patrons of the bar approached the two, and one patron attempted to grab Feinstein. I have imported, for these scenes, the characters into GURPS to handle deep hand to hand combat, and other such things. The man grabbed Feinstein and ripped him away from Guthrie. Feinstein attempted to break free but his strikes were useless. Guthrie put his hands up and backed up, trying to distance himself from the wildly belligerent Feinstein as much as possible. "C'mon you son of a bitch!!!" shouted Feinstein, attempting to throw a wild punch. He missed, and punched Guthrie in the face, who went sprawling across a table, sending bottles flying. Critical failure by Feinstein on his punch. lol. "Einstein I ORDER you to stop!" said Guthrie, nursing his eye, and attempting to use his station as Sergeant to improve the situation. It wasn't helping. Feinstein got thrown to the ground and the fighters began to wrestle. The man managed to pull off an ear clap, briefly stunning Feinstein and deafening him for six seconds. Feinstein struggled to break free, but the man kept up his offensive by headbutting Feinstein. Feinstein successfully managed to parry the man's attempt at gouging his eyes. In a battle between two people with hilariously low martial arts skills, GURPS becomes very funny. Maybe someday we do a GURPS campaign like this. Feinstein managed to backpedal away, and used the table flipped by Guthrie to pull himself up, the two combatants squared off, and Feinstein shook off his partial deafness to throw a punch. It connects. The man collapsed to the ground, and Feinstein dives on top of him. The man attempts to parry the oncoming blow, but Feinstein throws a haymaker. It connects. The man attempts to again parry, Feinstein throws another. And another. And another. The man's arms stick up in a grotesque display as Feinstein is turning an assault into a murder. Guthrie shoves Feinstein off the man, as the shouting outside grows louder. Multiple critical hits by Feinstein. Although it won't be relevant in this campaign, Feinstein managed to punch the bar patron into unconsciousness, and when he wakes up, according to the GURPS martial arts rolls, he will likely have some sort of cognitive impairment. Don't get into bar fights, kids. The other bar patrons of both American and Korean origin watched the brawl in grotesque fascination. The crowd continued to beat on the door and broke it open, but the line between the servicemen and members of the community would be quickly interrupted by a hail of thumpers firing tear gas, and Korean riot police attempted to disperse the crowd. Guthrie and Feinstein made a run for it past the bartender. Rolled a D20 to simulate crowd response after the fight, 1-5 crowd dispersed, 5-10 crowd would attempt to enter the bar, 10-15 the crowd would surround the bar, 15-19 the crowd would burst into a riot, and 20 would mean they would attempt to find and kill Feinstein. The image below is your answer.  Feinstein and Guthrie escaped outside, as well as a few other American servicemen. "Great, we're hosed." one lamented. The men decided it was time to split. The other servicemen felt that if an MP arrested them they could reasonably explain their case. Guthrie and Feinstein would be tied together however. What they did in the coming moments was all up to fate, or perhaps a die roll. 20+20. Going house to house, as more police rushed to the scene of the bar, Guthrie and Feinstein easily eluded any KNPA or MPs who might have wanted them for questioning. They had perfect alibis. The bartender tried to kick them out, they were leaving but assaulted. It makes perfect sense, and anybody would buy that. Feinstein, still in a drunken haze proclaimed victory over the forces of evil. Guthrie was resisting the urge to turn Feinstein over to the JAGs. "If there's any justice in this world" said Guthrie "You'll get yours for that, Feinstein." he continued, rubbing his newly found black eye. Looks like Feinstein won't have to answer for causing thousands of dollars in property damage and punching a man into a brief coma. On towards Tokyo.
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Oct 16, 2019 16:32
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Well that was a shitshow. An hilarious and epic shitshow though, many thanks to Feinstein and Guthrie for this! I'm really glad to see this LP back, and can't wait for more!
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Oct 16, 2019 17:03
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Goddamnit Feinstein. If you and me end up in Leavenworth for this...
Drone fucked around with this message at 20:15 on Oct 16, 2019 |
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Oct 16, 2019 19:05
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Hearts and minds!
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Oct 16, 2019 20:08
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Ah, that's how we go back to our lovable grunts... Great to see this back!
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Oct 16, 2019 22:20
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I'd like to think the grunts were the ones wtih brain trauma all along!
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Oct 17, 2019 06:16
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Thank god this is updating again, I was worried I actually DID kill the thread.
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Oct 17, 2019 19:37
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1901 FEBRUARY 17 1966 TOKYO PREFECTURE, JAPAN Eiko Shuri - Yé-Yé Bac, Guthrie, and Feinstein had a hell of a day. Seeing the sights of Tokyo, noses deep in travelers guides and pronunciation books. They'd been in Tokyo for four days already, and even took some trips to the outskirts. Some people stared at them, others continued with their day, walking past the bruised and battered Feinstein and Guthrie. They had a late flight to Kadena, and then on towards Saigon. "I love the lights." said Bac, staring up at the big neon signs advertising almost anything you could think of. Guthrie saw a music store and walked in while the other two chatted outside, Bac making many jokes at Feinstein's expense.  "Kon...banwa..." said Guthrie, looking down at the guide book and back up at the store attendant. He pointed at the clock sign, the store would be closing soon. Guthrie nodded and quickly went to work identifying various rhythm machines, guitar amps, and other things he considered shipping back to the US. He picked up a FR-1 Rhythm Machine and inspected it. In the street, Bac and Feinstein were approached by a rather slickly dressed Japanese man, with a small tattoo poking out from underneath his suit sleeve. "Greetings, gentlemen." he said, pulling a cigarette out of a carton, flicking his zippo open, and offering the two to the men. Feinstein refused, but Bac took one and lit it. "Thanks, pal." Bac stated. "Americans, huh?" the man asked. "Yep. Tried and true." Bac responded. "That is great, great, love the USA! Are you two interested in a business opportunity? I imagine you guys are coming from Vietnam based on the..." the man stopped speaking and waved his hand around Feinstein's badly cut ear. "...stories you have." "Yeah, what of it?" asked Feinstein nervously. "Well I have some friends in Saigon that work at the airport, where we buy and sell various goods from our respective countries and trade. There are a few things in Vietnam that we desire here, and we have things they desire there. You know, like any international trade partnership." the man said smoothly, adjusting his coat. "What does Vietnam have that Japan doesn't? I don't know if you noticed but you guys seem to have a lot more than them." said Feinstein, derision dripping from his voice. The man with the tattoo froze up a bit, then nodded.  "I see, you're not familiar with my trade, I apologize. When you land in Saigon, can you just be sure to give this letter to my friend? He works at the taxi dispatch." said the man, pulling an oddly weighted envelope from inside of his suit, and putting it in front of the servicemen. "And of course, as a businessman I understand there is a courier fee, and since Vietnam is a dangerous country at the moment let's say..." he continued, pulling a large sum of US currency out of his coat. "$100 each?" "I don't think this is a good idea." Feinstein said, casually slipping the $100 into his wallet. Bac looked around and took the cash as well. No harm no foul, he figured. He was just delivering a letter. Guthrie walked out of the store holding a shipping receipt. As that happened, just as quickly as the man with the tattoo appeared, he was gone. "Sorry I took so long!" Guthrie said. "Not going AWOL on you guys...as much as I want to..." he finished glumly. "Where did you get cigs Bac? You told me you dropped them. You wouldn't cover that up from me wouldya?" he questioned. "Had one rolling around in my jacket, I think." Bac said. They prepared to get on a train towards the airport. Their break coming to an end. After the arduous process of taking a commercial flight in another country, they took off. Guthrie realized that if there was a chance to disappear to the US or into Canada, he just missed it. Bac thought about opening the envelope and taking the money, but he was and is an honest man. Just delivering a letter. Back to combat. Top Hats Monthly fucked around with this message at 19:14 on Oct 18, 2019 |
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Oct 18, 2019 18:29
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Cue a three-letter agency suit either be pleased by this or be very peeved.
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Oct 18, 2019 19:13
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Nothing can possibly go wrong. This will be fine.  I've probably said this before, but I like the music choices. They really add to the setting.
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Oct 18, 2019 19:37
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Looking forwards to the next bit! And lovely atmospherics.
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Oct 19, 2019 06:30
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1700 FEBRUARY 21 Tây Nguyên Region Music: J.S. Bach - Komm, süsser Tod The Huey rattled down into the village. Helicopters dropped off man after man. This pro-RVN hamlet had the luxury of being shielded from most of the insurrection that had occurred ever since the Japanese came around in 1940. The location, high in the Tây Nguyên area had traditionally been the home of the Montagnard. This was shattered just four days ago. As our friends were off partying in Korea and Japan, the village had come under extreme shelling by local VC, hoping the population would break and run so the village could be used as a command post. This did not happen. Sgt. Guthrie pulled at his jacket. The mist coating everything in water.  "Well, I had hoped we were done setting up command posts." Guthrie said, holding a backpack full of equipment. No one spoke Bahnar, but were handed pre-pressed cards that had information in English, French, Vietnamese, and Bahnar. They handed them out to the people of the village, who stepped out of their homes to acknowledge the American forces. Đa Văn Lê exited a hut. Despite his name, he was half Bahnar and spoke the language well, his family having lived in this area for generations before his mother moved him towards the coast of South Vietnam. His LRPP outfit made him stand out. Sgt. Guthrie immediately approached him. "Anh? English? Phap? Francais?" Sgt. Guthrie asked. "Quelques Français." replied the CIDG member. "Are you fu-hey!" Sgt. Guthrie said, spinning to his soldiers placing down various equipment. "Seb!" he said tersely. Pfc. Dempsey moved up to his NCO and snapped to attention. Pvt. Davies spoke up "I speak a little Fran-cay too Sergeant!" "Shut up Davies. Normally I'd like your skill to help those idiots back there, but I get the feeling we have some questions that need answering." said Sgt. Guthrie, motioning to an unburied corpse a few feet away from where they were standing.  OP note, many Canadians did in fact serve in the US army. Although the true number who served is hard to pin down, over 100 Canadians died in the Vietnam War. Pictured above is one such man, Ron Parkes, from Winnipeg, MB. "Bonjour" said Pfc. Dempsey, as the others attempted to raise a radio mast. The two spoke at length about the recent VC incursions, and that the body was that of a VC infiltrator. They had managed to get out of him that a raid was coming, most likely today at night. Pfc. Dempsey reported the information to Spc4. Delgado, who would send it on back. "Nothing like getting attacked at night on a mountain in the middle of loving nowhere fuckin right boys?" said Pvt. Urquhart, enamored with putting the magazine of his M-16 back in and out of the weapon. The men worked all day, but by around 2230, the command post was operational. A "phone home" message to a nearby transmitter resulted in a successful communication. Pvt. Dumbowski smiled as he put the final cable in. "We're going to be here overnight fellas, get chow, and the sentries are going to be in shifts!" said Sgt. Guthrie, realizing he was getting pretty good at this commanding thing. Pvt. Montgomery, Spc4. Delgado, Đa Văn Lê, Pfc. Dempsey and Pvt. Mustang would watch the only non-airmobile entrance to the town, while Sgt. Guthrie and Pvt. Urquhart would watch the steep embankment for movement. The others would manage the equipment and attempt to sneak in shut eye. Đa Văn Lê and Pfc. Dempsey spoke for hours. They spoke of their homes, one in the bayou, the other in the mountains. The fact that they both grew up dirt poor and ended up doing this for excitement. It was a long conversation that stretched the night. The two were rapidly becoming great friends. Both good Catholics as well. Hours passed. Then it happened. Sgt. Guthrie was wiping his eyes after looking into the binoculars. A crack of gunfire woke him up from his stupor. He quickly checked his watch. 0631. They were supposed to be leaving in an hour. "CONTAAAAACT!" shouted Pvt. Montgomery, sliding behind a rock as AK-47 fire crashed around him. "Four footmobiles!" a second passed "AND MORTARS!" All things considered, if the VC didn't have terrible rolls they could've easily ambushed our trail watchers. "drat drat drat!" Sgt. Guthrie thought out loud. The VC obviously had a trail behind them somehow. Must have failed a spot check. A mortar round crashed into the outcropping that dominated the village vertically. Đa Văn Lê and Pfc. Dempsey sprung up, and sprinted for the  Pvt. Dumbowski hoisted his flamethrower and got up close behind Spc4. Delgado. "Two are around that rock up there. I think one has a light machine gun!" Spc4. Delgado shouted, ducking back after a huge burst of fire. Spc4. Delgado took this opportunity to call for reinforcements. "Overlord this is Bravo 2-3, hit VC contact, estimate 9 to 12 of 'em with artillery support!" Dumbo and Bac were in a pretty good position to get the drop on the two VC, but were immediately suppressed by decent die rolls. Delgado did succesfully call for support though. Shots were exchanged back and forth, but Pvt. Dumbowski managed to sneak out of cover and use his flamethrower to coat the VC in flames. The agony of the burning flesh was heard throughout the town. Sgt. Guthrie and Pvt. Davies tripped and ran through the village skittering across the dirt road with their M16s leveled. Pvt. Davies hit the ground and opened fire, striking a VC who was retreating and firing. One VC surrendered while the rest retreated. A mortar slammed into the village proper, sending a home ablaze and killing the occupants. Pvt. Davies swallowed his words. Something else bad just happened despite Davies shot on the reaction roll + VC retreat rolls "Nice...shot?" he quivered. Then he noticed Đa Văn Lê down in the dirt, a single hole in his head. "MEDIC! DOC!" screamed Pfc. Dempsey, as Pvt. Feinstein rushed over. Pvt. Feinstein quickly examined the situation. It was not good. Everyone knew he was dead. Pvt. Feinstein stuck his hand in the wound to attempt to give the impression that he could help. His hand touched dura and grey matter. He vomited all over himself. The sickening pumping of blood slowed. It was now a trickle. Pvt. Feinstein quickly directed and explained to Pvt. Dumbowski how to do chest compressions. He grabbed some saline solution from his bag, anything to make it look like he was able to do anything. Pfc. Dempsey ripped Feinstein's .45 from the holster. Feinstein turned around and stood up. Pfc. Dempsey walked up to the hogtied captured VC. He was young, and looked similar to some of the people in the village. A traitor perhaps? "PARLER! PARLER!" said Pfc. Dempsey, repeatedly striking him with the butt of the pistol. The VC begged for forgiveness in broken French, attempting to explain that his family was threatened if he didn't help. It didn't matter to Pfc. Dempsey, who kept beating him. Teeth went flying. Facial bones were being broken. Pvt. Davies and Spc4. Delgado grabbed Pfc. Dempsey by the arms to try and stop him. "Don't do it Seb! He ain't worth it! Stop!" cried Spc4. Delgado, grabbing on to Pfc. Dempsey's jacket. They managed to pull him away, but with one flick of the wrist Pfc. Dempsey leveled the M1911 at the prisoner. CRACK Silence. It was short. We lost a good young guy. Will update with wikipedia box when I can get the template to work in the sandbox.
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Oct 25, 2019 01:39
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Ohh Dempsey, you just wanted to go to college. Not like this, buddy. 
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Oct 26, 2019 03:59
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Have another character doss for ya. NAME: “Fatty” Nguyen Faloris (FAL-or-ree) AGE: 45 FACTION: CIDG BIO: The son of a Saigon industrialist and a French socialite, Nguyen never wanted for much growing up. Fat, lethargic, and a serial womanizer, he quickly became the go-to pimp for Vietnam’s upper crust. If someone was so horny and had more money than scruples, he was there with the fix. He didn’t even enter the skin trade for the money, he entered it because he wanted to feel powerful. Since the war broke out, he’s realized he can get more women into his stables if he joined the CIDG. Ladies swoon for a hero, after all. Or they would, if these drat Yanks would stop poaching his prospects with promises of “love,” “an escape from this hell,” or some other such nonsense. For now, he’s content with aiding the logistical corps, if only because he’s the brightest bulb in a box of dim ones.
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Oct 26, 2019 22:03
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