"We have heard a lot about your prowess during Caen then Arnhem. "I hope you have enjoyed your leave" he says, as he glances wistfully through the great rooms bay window, before striding back to his side of the mahogany desk. The tension is palpable, as the door to the great room shuts with a thud. After some rummaging, he raises a pipe, and strikes a match, before stepping towards the door, ushering the other officers out with a flick of his eyes. His fingers reach for a handle, as he slides open a drawer with a groan and squeak, that cuts through the air. The Major slams the report on his desk, calling the room to silence. He is too preoccupied with a manila folder, a "Top Secret" label taped stuck across it, in the same crimson as this mans beret. "Colonel, it is an honour, we have been eagerly anticipating your transfer." A Major sporting a sprightly mustache in the middle of the group briskly says, failing to make eye contact. Radios, maps and charts hastily strewn about, signal its significance as a converted command post. Through the cacophony, an assembly of officers is situated in a drawing room, with cobwebs and dust dancing in the vaulted ceilings. Inside, a blinding swarm of personnel is bustling every which way, accompanied with the clatter of field boots and radio chatter which fills the air. It creaks open as a lieutenant, preoccupied with a dossier in his hand, scurries past, only managing a quick salute. "REGIMENTAL HEADQUARTERS" is hastily scrawled on a plank across the white door. The sun glints off the windows of a majestic manor house before dulling on the ivy growing on the walls. The roar of engines drown out the echo of thoughts during a warm day in Holland.
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