This was just a little idea that I got from listening to some old French music. I'm sure if you've read my profile you'll know I love French music and French in general! So this short fic will probably come as no surprise to you! Anyway I hope you like it.

French Records

The music was enchanting, interesting and had a mesmerising effect on the listener. It was peaceful and melodic. Hints of typical French sounds subtly intertwined into the sounds of the other instruments. Sherman sat at his desk deeply involved in the music. It reminded him of his past tours of duty in World War One and World War Two. Listening to the record play gave him wonderfully nostalgic thoughts. He remembered listening to this music play when they were in the towns in France, whether they be small and remote or larger cities like Paris, Lyon or Toulouse.

The music picked up it's pace like a horse moving into a trot. Quick, short and sharp sounds. He recalled one night back in WW1 he and some friends were hiding out in an old château they played this very song, they drank numerous bottles of some old French Brandy. And began singing along to the music. They could be heard for miles; luckily for everyone else the château was in a remote field so their drunken singing could not be heard by any disapproving neighbours.

That night was one of great pleasure to Sherman. He remembered it fondly, knowing that it was a small break from the horrors of war.

His music had changed to a more sombre tone, slow and gentle music came from his phonograph. It brought memories of sadness and hardship; something he would rather forget but was something that if he tried to forget would probably make its way into his mind frequently. Deciding to change the record he placed another and it began, the music was much more lively and reminded him of the villages of France with the farmers and their carts full of produce ready to sell. These were times he would rather remember. Music, this music in particular was a powerful reminder of his years gone by, of his friends throughout every war he had been involved in, including this one, Korea.

The next tune had began, it was of a slower tempo but was subtly lively in parts. Sherman was thinking about the music when he was interrupted by Radar.

"Sir?" Asked Radar.

"Come in son." Sherman answered. "What can I do ya for?" he asked.

"What's that you're listening to sir?" Radar asked.

"It's French. This stuff was top of the hit parade in World War One." The Colonel answered.

"Oh ok." Radar replied. "How come you're listening to it?" he asked.

"Just to remember Radar, anyway what is it that you wanted?" Sherman asked.

"Oh, I just needed you to si-" Radar was cut off.

"What is it son?" Colonel Potter asked.

"Choppers." was Radar's reply.

"Yet another memory I won't forget." Sherman said to himself as he stoped the record that was playing.

"What's that sir?" Radar asked.

"Oh nothing Radar. Let's get on with the show." He said, quickly following Radar out to the compound to begin triage.

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