<div class="floatleft">(http://i1240.photobucket.com/albums/gg481/indytims/liam1_zps538bd928.jpg)</div><br/><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Cpl. Alex Clark<br/><strong>Nationality:</strong>Canadian<br/><strong>Class/Skill Set:</strong>Designated Marksman/Sniper<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Mess Hall<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>open<br/><br/>Lieutenant York explained that the hats were not for use in the field, and Clark resisted letting out a big sigh of relief. He knew Americans were often bold and brazen, but even this would have been a bit beyond that. She expected helmets, though, which were almost as bad to Clark, but definitely preferably over the alternative as he glanced down at the cavalry hat in his hands.<br/><br/>His head snapped up when she began to outline the plan, and he noted that he was partnered with Johnson, glancing over at the man for a moment and giving him a slight nod before returning his eyes to the lieutenant as she explained their objectives.<br/><br/>*  * * *<br/><br/>Eventually, it was go time. Clark arrived when and where he was expected, dressed for the occasion. He saw that everyone else was, as well, and the sight of all the people involved in the landing gave him comfort - as if he could almost imagine the world hadn't changed much. But it had, and being surrounded by a gaggle of yanks was the most poignant reminder of that he could imagine.<br/><br/>Soon, they were in the boat and the operation was underway. The short trip felt like it had taken a small eternity. Being on the small craft on the open water was about as vulnerable as they'd get. No cover, no place to hide, gear weighing you down so a fall into the black, murky water raised the chances of drowning considerably. If an enemy attack was going to happen, this is when it would take place - IF the enemy saw them coming.<br/><br/>Clark let out a breath as they reached the dock safe and sound, though, and dismounted from the boat and back onto land - finally - when it was his turn to move.<br/><br/>The Canadian kept Johnson off to this side, within his side field of vision. Suddenly the lieutenant's hand gesture put the group on even higher alert - the sound of running feet, perhaps fifty to sixty yards ahead, grabbed his attention as he took cover as best he could, staying low, weapon leveled in the direction the sounds came from. Perhaps they were scavengers. Perhaps they were drifters and salvagers. Whoever they were, they weren't members of their troop so they were unknowns, and as Clark had learned in the recent past, unknowns had a way of ruining your day pretty quickly.<br/><br/>Afterall, what would a 'welcome home party' be like... without the party?<br/><br/>-ark