|A quiet buzz on the com unit gets Sgt. Wyrzhevski’s attention. His men are relaxing within the front entrance of an abandoned Parisian hostel. He picks up the pack’s handset.
A: You missed a call.
“Cpl. Angler, my patrol has been under sporadic fire all the night — sorry if we can’t accommodate your communication schedule! We’re allowed a couple minutes to take a crap instead of answering HQ immediately, right?”
A: Yeah. There’s no reason not to.
“Well, unless you’re constipated, I guess. Har har.”
Shouting over his shoulder: “Jackson – come here!”
On the handset: “Hey Angler, you were there – tell Jackson here that waitress last Thursday night didn’t say she loved him in French – that’s all he’s been saying since that night.”
Hands handset to Pvt. Jackson.
A: No. She never did. Neither did I, for that matter.
Wyrzhevski grabs the handset from a puzzled Jackson.
“Heard that? Now shut up about it!”
Speaking again into the handset: “I hope HQ has something up its sleeve besides these constant street patrols. Something that makes sense, that is — I don’t want to be in another major debacle like the last offensive.”
A: At the Fall Festival?
“The general can call it what he wants; here in the field we refer to it as Operation Cluster F…”
Bullets ricochet off the sidewalk just outside.
To the soldier nearest the entrance: “DAMN IT! Torrence, where’s that sniper fire coming from?! You and Watkins flank right and see if you can get a fix!”
Two soldiers carefully exit out the side doorway.
Back to the handset: “Angler, good thing that morning convoy through here was aborted, ‘cause this area’s still hot. Wouldn’t have wanted to have our guys on this route today.”
A: Yeah, that would have been a disaster.
“If the Resistance was more dependable, we wouldn’t still have these sniper nests. The frogs have been scarce since that fight broke out a couple weeks ago that night when Sgt. Flatly was doing his Cross-Eyed Führer act.”
A: It wasn’t personal. They don’t see things the same way you do.
“Yeah, well I don’t plan on sticking around to discuss it with them; I’m anxious to cross into ‘The Fatherland’ and start kicking kraut hiney on their home turf.”
A: You’re not the only one.
“You think we have long to wait?”
A: Absolutely not.
The two soldiers reenter the building, one signaling “three” with his right hand.
“Torrence and Watkins are back – looks like we’ve got us a building with some unwanted tenants.”
A: So what are you going to do about it?
“How’s about I tell you on our Oh-Nine-Hundred call? Talk to you then, Angler – Wyrzhevski out.”