0553 Hours, Military Time
Her Majesty's Ship Eagle, Off the Egyptian Shorelines
As the waves crashed against the sides of the ship, the noise they created seemed to have a rather disturbing and off-putting rhythm to it, or so it felt to Lewis, as he was tying the long laces of his black leather boots with what seemed to be a religious devotion. It seemed far too quiet around him, except for the sounds of the sea, something the soldier was used to by now. It did occur to him that his attempts to create a good impression, as he had done back as he was leaving for the Korean Peninsula would be wasted were he to report late to his Commanding officer, but he did not quite focus on that then.
After finding his boots in a satisfying condition, he raised his head to look around, letting the excess blood flow down from his head, and saw... both surprisingly and unsurprisingly a relatively large amount of people. It was only then that the usual sounds of his brothers in arms hit him, a combination of nervous chattering from the new kids on the block, and the almost nonchalant discourse of the vets, as well as the general sounds of a hurried preparation.
He got up from where he had been sitting, and looked down at his uniform, in order to inspect it for any deformities that may have appeared after his previous per-minute checking. It was one of his methods of coping with the stress of the reality that he endured, or so he reasoned it to be, since the minute his boots would hit solid earth, he'd mostly forget about his uniform, and focus on not getting shot in the bloody face by some idiot on the other side.
He checked the time, and confident in his ability to reach in time, he began to head for the cargo bay with a walking pace. He sure as hell hoped he wouldn't have to deal with a CO like the first one he had back in Korea, since that buggering man had been the bane of his existence the entirety of the first year of the war. What with all his damned xenophobic tendencies, and the fact that the man had singled him out as the weed of the entire section. Of course, he'd died a heroic death around the time the UN forces started kicking in to push back the North Korean army, saving their anti tank man from getting gutted by some fucko with a sword.
With a minute to spare, he'd arrived at the cargo bay, and pushed the portal open, revealing what seemed to be a large conglomeration of ammo crates, people, weapons, miscellaneous parts he could not name, and, most importantly, the man he recognized to be Captain Mackenzie, his current CO. He took a long, deep breath, and made for him. In front of him, he just repeated the protocol that had been drilled into his head for six years. He snapped to attention the second he stopped walking, raised his hand to his forehead in a perfectly formed salute, and barked out "Sir, Lance Corporal Lewis Spencer reporting for duty, sir!"
First and last words were sir, and so he felt safe. He had a sudden, and entirely unjustified fear that this deployment was going to be a rather long and difficult one.