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Norman was supposed to be a desk clerk; 60 words per minute being his only real talent, he'd always been a bit useless with any kind of gun. Machine gun, sniper, he'd had a go with all of them during basic training, but that was a disaster for everyone involved and so he'd been assigned to desk duty. Everyone laughed, of course, but Norman found that he quite enjoyed it, better yet he was good at it. Who the hell would have guessed he'd end up the bowgunner of a M4 Sherman tank? No one, that's who.
But he was. He was here now, and he couldn't bring himself to regret that; it'd been tough at first, and the rest of the crew sure hadn't helped out the new rookie, but he learnt (Wardaddy made sure of that). He was...happy now, happy as a boy in the middle of a war could be; the others had fully accepted him into their tight knit group and that included their horseplay.
"Grady"
"What"
"Get your goddamn feet out my face"
Grady laughed gruffly as he moved his smelly-ass feet away from Norman's face. The crew were travelling through the small German town of Traurige and found an old house most likely abandoned by those fleeing the frays breaking out across the country side. The house was nice, if a bit small; it was squished in between an old townhouse and the town's small-rundown church. The house had no upstairs but 2 beds and a couch, lucky him; he got to top and tail with fucking Grady of all people, which wouldn't be so bad if there were huge feet kicking him in the face every 3 minutes. "Grady seriously, knock it off" Norman whisper-yells as he lurches up as the foot comes to give him another whack in the face. "Ain't doing nothing." "Dammit can you just-" Norman is then cut off by a tired Wardaddy.
"Grady, quit it, Norman stop fucking whining and go the fuck to sleep." He grumbled from his spot on the couch. Lucky bastard gets the most space with Bible and Gordo having to share the other bed. They as a group had considered taking turns, but the chance to sleep in a real bed had just been too good to pass up.
As Norman lays back down in a huff, Grady feigns a kick to Norman's face. he jolts back to avoid but soon settles down as he hears Grady's quiet chuckle at his trick. Norman likened Grady's antics to those of his older cousins back home. Soon enough, Grady settles down and joins the rest of the crew in sleep while Norman lays silently awake. The house was quiet, with the only sound being Bibles quiet snoring and the occasional drip of water from the small kitchen sink. The house smelt musty with an earthy scent, most likely from when rats had taken shelter before the crew had cleared them out to set up camp for the night.
For a moment, Norman closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He enjoyed the silence, the still, and he knew that tomorrow they'd be on the move again, right back into the death, the horror, the uncertainty if they'd live another day. But they'd all survived up until that point. Well, not quite. Norman found himself wondering about Red, the previous bow gunner of Fury. He wondered what would have happened if Red would never have died, never had his head blown off his shoulders. He knows the others would prefer red to be alive and be the one in that seat instead of Norman. He didn't hold it against them; after all they'd lost a friend, a brother. It just meant Norman had some pretty big shoes to fill.
The next day when everyone wakes up, Norman gets a bit of satisfaction when Grady's the last to wake, and Norman gets to go wake him up, Grady clearly woke up on the wrong side of the bed if his grumbles of "Fuckin' hell, goddamm...were anything to go by (C'mon, Norman didn't poke him that hard). Norman allows himself a small snigger at Grady's disgruntled appearance.
It's already a good day. Wardaddy's managed to scrounge up some eggs from a local farmer, and Bibles gone to cook them up in the kitchen. The smell wafts about, leaving the rest of them sitting at the table and nearly drooling.
Finally it's served up, and Bible places a plate in front of every man, and lastly Norman. He's about to dig in like everyone else when he hears a loud cough from the head of the table. "We're gonna say grace before eating and Grady I swear if you take one more bite, imma whoop you harder than your mama you absolout heathen." Grady looks annoyed, and Gordo loudly protests, but Wardaddy sides with Bible just this once (he ain't wanna get on the bad side of bible; he's the only one who can cook properly, and hell if southern cooking ain't the best thing he's ever tasted). Norman sits to the right of the head of the table and so joins his hands with Bible on one side, and Don on his other side.