Ronald Speirs Imagine #9

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Ronald walked the edge of the destroyed practically destroyed Nazi base. The crunching of the snow beneath his Army Issued boots. His firearm held tight;y within his beaten and calloused fingers. The face paint slicked onto his cheeks as he kept a stern eye. Nazi prisoners walking past them in a long line, their hands up above their heads. Stripped of any weapons and any valuables. A cigarette balanced between his lips. The nicotine slipped down his throat. It was calming things for him.

Peering in rooms, searching around for any Intel. Any prisoners. Really anything to be honest. It was a large base. Multiple large buildings with bunches of small buildings here and there. Soldiers searched all the buildings. Shuffling with papers needed to be translated, snagging things of value of course. Flags, medals, maybe even some pieces of clothing from the prisoners taken and or from the dead that lay around.

Ronald had sat within a building, his feet propped up on the desk in front of him, picking his teeth with a toothpick. His weapon lay on his lap, and his helmet rested on the same old, and beaten wooden desk. Humming to himself, enjoying the small moment of somewhat relaxation. Watching the paratroopers of all types of ranks bustled in and out of the building. The commanding officers stayed within the building, making it their headquarters.

Papers began to pile up, Soldiers coming in to report what the new POWs had told them. Everything was going rather smoothly. It made Ronald a little uneasy. Nothing for these paratroopers ever went easy for them it seemed. And of course, that uneasy feeling seemed to be true when Liebgott, Martin, Perconte and Randleman all came in to stand in front of the officers. The Captain stood and looked to the men. Raising an eyebrow.

"Sir, there is only one last building that has yet to be searched. But we believe there could be some Krauts in there, sir. Men have reported some banging around, some footsteps. We were in need of an officer to be present, sir," Martin spoke up. Standing at attention of course, along with the rest of the men. Spiers crossed his arms over his chest, as much as he didn't want to get up, he was going to. It was his job after all.

"All right, let's head over there then to get it done and over with. We need to get on the move soon anyways," he responded, Already beginning to make his way past the men. The small group already followed his lead.

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The old German home the small squad approached was just as worn down and partially destroyed as the others. It was quiet, just like the rest of the town. That was merely a ghost town without the American Military within it.

Speirs took a few steps forward, approaching the front door. "Have you men even been within this home yet?" he asked. Turning to look back over his shoulder at the four paratroopers. All of them shaking their heads. Making the officer scoff slightly and carrying on walking within the building, stepping through the doorway. The old house smelled of mildew and was damp all around the inside. The rainstorms had definitely gotten to this home over it's time of use. The old furniture matched the disarray of the home. Chairs knocked over. A small table broken to pieces. Shattered plates and cups spreading across the floor and crunching beneath their boots. It wasn't like they hadn't seen something like this. The German's had no care in the world what they did to people's belongings. Especially within the smaller German cities. They took what they wanted. Valuables, women, lives. Anything. And if they didn't want it, they merely destroyed it.

Ronald picked up a few silver spoons and forks that spread across the creaky, wooden floorboards of the home. Stuffing them in his bag. He never could turn down some more silver to send back home. Sticky fingers of course. Continuing to search the one floor home. It wasn't too big, and it wasn't too small either. It was a good family home, and Ronald imagined what it would look like if it was still normal. No broken furniture, or shattered plates and cups. A happy family merely walking around and enjoying a nice meal at the table. It was something Ronald secretly always did. Imagine what life within these towns and cities would be like if there was no war. What he would do if there was no war. Where would he be?

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