Hi guys! So here is a new RP story, hope you like it. All I can say is, poor Tully, how I love to torture him. You'll see whatHi guys! So here is a new RP story, hope you like it. All I can say is, poor Tully, how I love to torture him. You'll see what I mean in later : )
Disclaimer: I don't own them.
Tully Pettigrew squinted against the scorching African blaze. Since five AM this morning, he and Moffitt had been out patrolling the area. Hitch was back in the hospital after taking a bullet to the arm, and Troy was currently catching up on some long needed rest after a particularly hard mission a few days ago. Moffitt and Tully were deemed fit to take on this patrol alone.
Suddenly, Moffitt jolted, as if he had been sleeping and was now awake, and turned to Tully.
"What's the matter, Sarge?"
"I'm not sure. It was there one moment…. And then-" he handed Tully the binoculars. "Look for yourself."
"What am I looking at?" the Private finally lowered the binoculars, glancing at Moffitt.
"That's exactly my point. Two minutes ago I could have sworn there was a person out there…. I know there was." he looked again.
"Do you think it's one of those desert illusions?"
"A marage you mean? It could be, but that usually only happens when you're delusional."
"Well Sarge when you-"
"-knock it off, Tully. I know I saw someone."
"You sure?" Tully squinted again, shading his eyes with his hand. "I still don't see anything."
"Positive. Well there's one way to find out. Come on, get in the Jeep."
"Sarge, there could be more of them, it could be bait-"
"Tully, if there is someone out there- and I'm certain there is- I intend to find out who they are, and what they're doing. Get going."
Tully shook his head and climbed into the driver's seat. These Brits were just too picky about who walked on their sand…..
…
"Should be over this next dune!" yelled Moffitt over the noise of the engine, "We'll go on foot!"
Tully killed the engine and hopped out, followed by Moffitt. They both held their Thompsons close, creeping low to the ground.
"Get down." Moffitt nudged Tully, and they both dropped.
Slowly, they crawled up the dune, and Tully recoiled at what was on the other side. A man lay freshly dead, an American. Blood saturated his entire torso and the ground around him. Moffitt looked on as the wind blew several sheet-like layers of sand over the body, partially covering it. Tully was about to stand up, when suddenly a hand fell onto his wrist, and it wasn't Moffitt's.
"Looks like now I have a ride." The German accented voice was raspy from lack of water, but his grip was surprisingly strong. He waved his own rifle at them. "Throw them away, and get up, but slowly."
Tully, still in shock and wondering just how the obviously handicapped man had managed to sneak up on them, obeyed, and very slowly. Moffitt glanced at him, and at the his Thomson laying a few feet away? This man would be slow, exhausted from dehydration-
"Don't try, American. Don't even try." The young man stood up shakily, "you are going to help me…" he steadied himself, "To get home."
"Behind German lines… that's got to be pretty far away." Moffitt replied, never breaking his gaze with the German.
"No, we're not going behind German lines. We are going to the nearest… what is the word you say?"
"Ocean?" Moffitt suggested. Tully rolled his eyes.
"How 'bout a cliff?"
"Why would I need a cliff?" the German was puzzled.
"Too jump off of." He whistled, like the sound of falling, and mimicked landing with the toe of his boot. Smack! Onto the burning sand.
The German of course had no idea what the private was saying, so ignored him and turned the Moffitt. "What you said, the ocean." He got a slightly faraway look in his eyes, but snapped back quickly. "Where is your vehicle?"
"Over there." Moffitt pointed" But you know, the ocean is as far, if not further away than the German lines…. We wouldn't get there for days. What's to stop us from taking you to our base?"
"This is." His slammed the muzzle of his rifle onto Moffitt's jaw. "Get moving."
I mean in later : )
Disclaimer: I don't own them.
Tully Pettigrew squinted against the scorching African blaze. Since five AM this morning, he and Moffitt had been out patrolling the area. Hitch was back in the hospital after taking a bullet to the arm, and Troy was currently catching up on some long needed rest after a particularly hard mission a few days ago. Moffitt and Tully were deemed fit to take on this patrol alone.
Suddenly, Moffitt jolted, as if he had been sleeping and was now awake, and turned to Tully.
"What's the matter, Sarge?"
"I'm not sure. It was there one moment…. And then-" he handed Tully the binoculars. "Look for yourself."
"What am I looking at?" the Private finally lowered the binoculars, glancing at Moffitt.
"That's exactly my point. Two minutes ago I could have sworn there was a person out there…. I know there was." he looked again.
"Do you think it's one of those desert illusions?"
"A marage you mean? It could be, but that usually only happens when you're delusional."
"Well Sarge when you-"
"-knock it off, Tully. I know I saw someone."
"You sure?" Tully squinted again, shading his eyes with his hand. "I still don't see anything."
"Positive. Well there's one way to find out. Come on, get in the Jeep."
"Sarge, there could be more of them, it could be bait-"
"Tully, if there is someone out there- and I'm certain there is- I intend to find out who they are, and what they're doing. Get going."
Tully shook his head and climbed into the driver's seat. These Brits were just too picky about who walked on their sand…..
…
"Should be over this next dune!" yelled Moffitt over the noise of the engine, "We'll go on foot!"
Tully killed the engine and hopped out, followed by Moffitt. They both held their Thompsons close, creeping low to the ground.
"Get down." Moffitt nudged Tully, and they both dropped.
Slowly, they crawled up the dune, and Tully recoiled at what was on the other side. A man lay freshly dead, an American. Blood saturated his entire torso and the ground around him. Moffitt looked on as the wind blew several sheet-like layers of sand over the body, partially covering it. Tully was about to stand up, when suddenly a hand fell onto his wrist, and it wasn't Moffitt's.
"Looks like now I have a ride." The German accented voice was raspy from lack of water, but his grip was surprisingly strong. He waved his own rifle at them. "Throw them away, and get up, but slowly."
Tully, still in shock and wondering just how the obviously handicapped man had managed to sneak up on them, obeyed, and very slowly. Moffitt glanced at him, and at the his Thomson laying a few feet away? This man would be slow, exhausted from dehydration-
"Don't try, American. Don't even try." The young man stood up shakily, "you are going to help me…" he steadied himself, "To get home."
"Behind German lines… that's got to be pretty far away." Moffitt replied, never breaking his gaze with the German.
"No, we're not going behind German lines. We are going to the nearest… what is the word you say?"
"Ocean?" Moffitt suggested. Tully rolled his eyes.
"How 'bout a cliff?"
"Why would I need a cliff?" the German was puzzled.
"Too jump off of." He whistled, like the sound of falling, and mimicked landing with the toe of his boot. Smack! Onto the burning sand.
The German of course had no idea what the private was saying, so ignored him and turned the Moffitt. "What you said, the ocean." He got a slightly faraway look in his eyes, but snapped back quickly. "Where is your vehicle?"
"Over there." Moffitt pointed" But you know, the ocean is as far, if not further away than the German lines…. We wouldn't get there for days. What's to stop us from taking you to our base?"
"This is." His slammed the muzzle of his rifle onto Moffitt's jaw. "Get moving."
