When the Music's Over

[Silas]

Yeah, C'mon...

The chopper blades lifted the bean-like helicopter off of the landing pad, the thick humid air gushing down onto the ground crew below. The pilot gained altitude as the aircraft shot forward into the crystal blue sky, above the sea of green jungle stretching before it as a coarse floor to the smooth sky overhead. An alien landscape to be sure, with countless hills, rivers, hamlets, and rice paddies to hide away a faceless enemy.

Yeeeeeaaaaaaaah!!!

1967, a year of doubt for the folks back in the states as a conflict in a seemingly insignificant country half a world away flared into a full-out war. A war with no rationale aside from the 'domino effect', the spread of communism in southeast Asia, a far cry from the unambiguous freedom fighters during the second world war. However, three years into the new war against communism, U.S armed forces were still pulling draftees into the jungle to defeat the Reds in their bid for forceful expansion. The intent was to drive them out of the region at best, and at worst, well that was all up to the Generals moving the pieces. Pieces that drifted off the known parts of the board, it seemed.

"Too late for complaints or rest stops now, me buckoes!" A heavily-muscled and tattooed otter observed from his M60 machine gun station aboard the lead helicopter. His voice, while muffled by the engine overhead, could be understood by the squad of anxious marines assembled in the tight space, shoulder to shoulder with weapons at the ready. Nervous laughs, along with a few comments in return signalled to the otter the squad's readiness to enter the vast jungle for the first time.

"Hah, no toilets on this thing?"
"Yeah, what d'ye do, take a leak off the side?"
"Like it'd make any difference to the gooks down there. Probably think it's rainin' all of a sudden!"

A pair of blue eyes snapped up from surveying the foliage down below at the otter's call, the ghost of a smile appearing at the comments of his squadmates before returning to the sea of green. Two numbed paws held loosely onto an M14 assault rifle, its familiar weight only a mild reassurance at the sight of such a forbidding countryside, the heavy humid air swishing against a bushy tail, ruffling russet fur as it passed over the helicopter. After the group has had a collective laugh and a release of nervous tension, another, more serious voice spoke above the noise of the chopper blades.

"I want everyone alert when we hit the LZ. Soon as your boots slap the deck, do a brass check and lock everything down for the next heli. You'll have time for giggles afterwards."

The whole squad directed their attention at the speaker, a squirrel just a hair or two older than themselves, with blue eyes and russet fur, a small officer's badge placed upon the shoulder of his uniform. The tone of his voice certainly set them back into reality, and at that signal the cabin quieted again as paws tightened around weapons and harness releases. Satisfied with the sudden discipline, the squirrel returned his blue eyes to the forest, and the sky, briefly allowing his own mind to wander in a daze.

First Lieutenant Silas Hawkeye. That was his title, his name, his weight to carry for however long the Marine Corps deemed apropriate. He was to lead these beasts and others gathered around him through that jungle below, accomplishing missions while preserving their lives as best he could. The squirrel hoped that he could satisfy both ends of the scale without much in the way of a struggle, but in the end he knew that the start of a long journey was about to take place. His country, his family, his home were all behind him now as he watched the choppers fly deeper into the hills and valleys. Already he could feel his uneasiness settling into the pit of his stomach, and the squirrel found himself missing the cool air of Lake Michigan, the sound of his guitar, the loving smile of a certain someone on the beach...

"Sixty seconds!" The co-pilot in the front of the helicopter yelled back at the marines. Silas looked back up, then readied himself for a smooth and swift exit out of the aircraft and back onto the ground, turning in his seat. As the squad around him followed his example, a song came into his head. He mouthed the words softly under the cover of the engine, tapping a footpaw in his boot as the helicopter descended to a small clearing.

"When the music's over,
When the music's over, yeah,
When the music's over,
Turn out the lights,
Turn out the lights,
Turn out the liiiights..."

"Thirty seconds!" The co-pilot hollered over his shoulder.

"When the Music, is your special friend,
Dance on fire as it intends,
Music is your only friend..."

The skids bumped down onto the grass, the rotor wash shaking the whole field violently as the squad dismounted in a flash, with Silas being the last beast to jump, the next set of lyrics echoing in his head.

Until the end...

(Lyrics, song and inspiration from The Doors, When the Music's Over. When I heard that, I just had to do something about it ;D )

[carabadgermum]

As soon as the professor dismissed them, the squirrelmaid escaped the stifling classroom. She hurriedly dropped her books off at Houghton Hall and exited by the Lasalle Blvd. doors. It only took her a few minutes to jog the six blocks west up Chicago Ave to Michigan Ave. She debated turning there and going up to Forth Presbyterian. There was a quiet little courtyard there which offered a nice place to sit and think.

Quiet wasn't really what Tamar wanted right now however. She crossed Michigan when the light changed and hurried up the last few blocks to Lake Shore Drive. The wanna-be hippies had taken over the park. In her long gauzy skirt and white peasant blouse the squirrelmaid almost looked like she could be one of them. Her flamboyant attire had gotten her some strange looks up and down the halls of Moody Bible Institute but since she wasn't technically breaking the dress code they couldn't really say anything about it.

Politically she couldn't really say where she stood. Certainly not with these drop out punks to whom she gave a wide berth as she continued on toward the beach. One of them, a wasted hedgehog in fringed leather pants played guitar and sang protest songs. Tamar could only assume it was his prickly exterior that had saved him from being picked up by the cops thus far.

It was the guitar that really caught her notice. She was thinking of another set of paws that had so skillfully copied George Harrison's chord progressions for her on this very beach last summer. Now that was truly the summer of love, not that drugged out facsimile that had gone on in San Fransisco for the last couple of months.

There weren't all that many creatures on the beach when Tamar finally got there. Probably since the school year had recently started, though the weather was still hot enough that a dip in the cool lake waters still sounded nice. One family of harvest mice had a blanket laid out on the rocky sand. Two little mousemaids not old enough to be in school yet would barely wet their paws and then run back to their mother on the blanket excitedly.

They had a little wireless playing Tamar recognized the song right away. It was the Monkeys, a song that had just come out on their album last year. But despite the upbeat rhythm and catchy tune the lyrics made the squirrelmaid frown.

Take the last train to Clarksville,
And I'll meet you at the station.
You can be be there by four thirty,
'Cause I made your reservation.
Don't be slow, oh, no, no, no!
Oh, no, no, no!

'Cause I'm leavin' in the morning
And I must see you again
We'll have one more night together
'Til the morning brings my train.
And I must go, oh, no, no, no!
Oh, no, no, no!

Yes that definitely hit a little too close to home. She and Silas had actually taken the train to Clarksville together just a few months ago. Her family lived not far from there and they had all come, Mom and Dad and her little brother Drew, for 'one more night together' before his unit shipped off with the 101 Airborn from Fort Campbell.

It was the last line of the song that clenched like a cold fist around her heart however.

I don't know if i'm ever coming home.

Dear God, Please let him come home!

[Silas]

Silas watched as his squad spread out along the perimeter of the landing zone, chambering rounds in their weapons, looking sharply about into the dense jungle beyond for any sign of hostile interference. With his M14 in paw, the squirrel looked over his shoulder to observe the otter in the helicopter looking at him. The steely otter gave a thumbs-up at him, wearing a new expression of determination, silently wishing him luck on their mission. Silas nodded in comprehension, flicking his rifle's safety off as the chopper lifted back into the clear blue sky, hovering in a sticky, humid air as it climbed out.

The finality of the otter's gesture settled in as the squirrel's ears rang at the relative silence around them. With one paw he reached up to grasp the bolt of his M14 and pull it back, letting the heavy metallic piece slap back into place. He glanced back up at his squad, still dutifully guarding the landing zone. With his blue eyes he watched each beast, reading their expressions. Anxious paws gripped tightly to implements of war, while in most of their stomachs lingered the excited fear of being shot at, or blown up...

The squirrel's attention shifted to one of the three mice in his squad approaching him, rifle pointed safely downward as he informed him in a hushed tone, as if they had infiltrated a great library,

"The LZ is secure, sir."

Silas nodded in satisfaction, crouching down with the mouse, still observing the foreboding treeline for anything out of the ordinary as he replied, "Alright, keep 'em on their toes, Jace. Once the heli lands-"

...PAHPAHPAHPAHPAH!

The short but loud string of shots cut him short, making everybody jump, duck their heads, and look frantically about for the source of the noise. Those close to the side the squirrel was facing were already informed, however. Silas called out in their direction, "Any contacts to report, Private Lehigh?"

A spectacled hedgehog with an M60 answered his call, feeling rather foolish at himself, glancing briefly at the five spent cartridges near his right paw. "I was spacing out, sir." He replied, feeling more than seeing the the wry smirks of his fellow marines. Silas took a breath, quickly calming down before responding, "Make sure it won't happen again, Private."

"Yes, sir."

The squirrel glanced back at the others behind him, seeing their weapons begin to drop. "Keep sharp, Marines!" He told them, watching as they shouldered their M14 rifles quickly at his call. Remembering his own, he loosely held onto the smooth wooden stock with both paws, hearing the distinctive sound of chopper blades breaking the eerie silence of the jungle around them as the second squad dismounted to join them in the clearing.

Don't you worry... He thought to that certain squirrelmaid as well as himself as the other squad also took up a perimeter around him, Jace and the chopper, in an unknown land far away.

We'll be alright.

[Kal Skirata]

((Psst. Gook is Korean, not Vietnamese. Vietnamese is Charlie))

A brawny sea otter with the insignia of a sergeant came up. "You forget yourself sir." he said as he turned to Lehigh. "What the hell do you think you're doing? Not only could you have alerted the damned enemy that we're here, you could have shot one of your own squad. Constant vigilance, you sorry excuse for a soldier!" Turning to the others, he continued "That goes for all of you! This ain't walking down the road to see your girlfriend, this is combat." snarled Sergeant Bruce Stack. They weren't bad kids, but as Sergeant, it was his job to do this. And he didn't enjoy it at all. "Got it?" Okay, maybe he did enjoy it a little...

[Silas]

((I was under the impression the two expressions were synonymous ))

Silas flicked away an adventurous fly from his nose as the sergeant's voice came across the clearing to Private Lehigh's general direction. He frowned, knowing that their position was probably given away, but in the big picture, that was of little conern. They weren't exactly behind enemy lines...

Huh, if they had any lines... He thought to himself.

The squirrel's eyes once again surveyed the jungle before them, moving out of the way as a third chopper came into the LZ to deposit another squad of marines. The reason for their delay was quite evident, as spent brass cartridges rolled out of the chopper with the squad. As soon as they were organized, he decided that they were finally ready. "All right, form up and move out." He instructed, examining everyone, including the mildly shaken new arrivals.

All of them were to move northward, searching for enemy munitions and personnel in the nearby villages, particularly mortar equipment. This, in theory, would deny the enemy the ability to attack the small firebase to the south at very close range. Since the firebase was not one hundred percent ready, it was their job to scout the area for any possible attackers and their weapons, and of course eliminate them as necessary. A pretty straightforward mission, an easy task for such a green platoon. Eyes fixed on the treeline in suspicion, the troops formed up as directed, an almost mechanical maneuver.

Silas made sure that his own M14 was ready, before holding the weapon more firmly in his paws. With a last look up at the sky, the squirrel stretched his legs and tail, and prepared for the first of many long walks through the jungle.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Ziggy blinked as he opened the door, walking in out of the hot sun and the streets of Chicago. The sign over his head declared a local establishment of small design, a haven for musical talent and decent liquid refreshment under one roof. For the moment, the ferret sought the latter, walking across the main floor to the bar situated at the other side of the room, walking around a few patrons who came in early from the windy city to catch a few drinks of their own.

"Hey Zigs," A tall fox with russet fur and a toothy grin greeted him from behind the bar, "Catch an eyeful o' somethin'?" He asked, noting the ferret's dazed state.

"I dunno, man, 'm blind as it is." The older, shorter ferret rubbed at his eye with a paw, speaking in his hoarse dialect. As his eyes eventually adjusted to the lighting in the building, he was aware of the meaning behind the fox's words as a particularly attractive ferretmaid wandered in. Ziggy huffed and shook his head, returning his gaze to the fox after a moment.

"Ah, for a blindbeast you found your way in here alright." The fox smirked, wiping a glass clean before setting it aside. Ziggy chuckled a little, then asked afterwards, nodding towards the glass, "Heh, well're ye gonna let a blind ferret stan' about without a beer?"

The fox took the hint and gave him a cool draft on the counter. Ziggy gulped at the beverage, quenching his thirst for a minute. The fox nodded in satisfaction, leaning against the bar and waiting for another customer. Ziggy followed suit, turning about to lean on the bar counter and survey the other occupants of the room with his brown eyes. After another few moments of silence, the fox spoke up, remembering something as he observed the ferret's line of sight.

"Hey, where's your guitarist and his ladyfriend?" He asked, looking for something to occupy him. The ferret shrugged. "I toldje, Jim. 'E's been shipped off t' the 'Nam."
"Ah, so no groovin' blues?"

"Nah, just keep 'em happy with yer drinks tonight." Ziggy then pulled another smirk on the fox, knowing that without his young guitarist, Silas, the band would have to find another one. At least temporarily, until the squirrel got back. But until then, the ferret was tasked with looking out for his girlfriend while he was gone. She did have the smarts and the will to get out of a tight spot, but just in case, the old ferret was ready to make sure that any sort of situation like that would be avoided. He owed Silas, anyway. That kid was amazing on guitar.

She'll appear when she wants to. He thought as he glanced briefly over to the door, wondering if he should be out checking for those tight spots.

[carabadgermum]

Tamar didn't want to start crying in front of these strangers, especially about something as silly as a song. She turned away from them and started walking south along Lake Shore Drive. Where could she go though, in a city where every square inch made her think of Silas. There was one place that she always felt welcome but if anyone from school saw her there she could be expelled.

Against her better judgment the squirrelmaid's footpaws began to lead her toward the the place where Silas's band had played regular gigs for as long as she had known him. She sighed, it wasn't as if she was going to get anything to drink. She just wanted to see some other beast who might be missing him too. Not that anybeast could possibly be missing him as much as she was.