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it'd stunned walter upon his original arrival how well the central powers were truly treating their prisoners of war. it felt as if the captured men were less caught on the other side of this conflict, but more so free - to - roam assets of their supposed enemies. at the end of the day, none of the soldiers really understood why they were forced to hold guns to one another's heads to fight back in a war that was nowhere near their own problem. though the pigeoneer had a youthfully cushy way of looking at the world - wide squabble, he had yet to see these men who'd captured him from his original company as legitimate enemies. they'd patched whatever wounds he'd sustained after his camp was raided, even went about fetching him a new pair of glasses that were nearly identical to his previous prescription. the last thing the scotsman was looking to class these men as were threats of some kind. perhaps it was his childish nature and lack of a higher intelligence beyond a mediocre grade level, but it was doubtful he'd ever see the central powers in an openly villainous way that the allies so dearly wished him to. - and when they offered him valued pigeons to take care of, he couldn't have been a happier soul.

after the birds had been presented to him, there was hardly ever a peep from the likes of wally besides his quieted chatter to the likes of the pigeons themselves. though it was marginally unknown to the generally passerby what he was muttering to his small flock of trained messengers, it would become quickly obvious if one was to sit besides him. it was nothing but loving gushes, the scotsman's head dipped curiously to the side as he tells the brainless bird that ever so willingly balances on his hand that it was a wondrous little soldier. whatever vegetables and fruits that were brought along to accent the pow's meals were fed straight to his adoring pigeons, an index finger scratching softly at the softened feathers sitting atop his animal companion's heads. despite the obvious fact he was an odd character in comparison to most, he bothered no one but perhaps his fellow allied soldiers who could hardly stand his continuous spray of positivity. almost anyone could note that wally appeared to have trouble adjusting to tougher situations, one to stray away from handling predicaments that would require more than his brightened view on life and the war itself. his old squad would have consistent motivation to push them onward, but this was not another battlefield they needed to get through, and there was no one paying the pigeoneer any time for his words.

though, today appeared to be off the typical pow schedule for the young man. while he was tending to his birds as he always did at their free hour between the usual chores and lunch hour, he cannot help but blink a multitude of times as a fully - clad soldier approached him. for the pigeoneer, there was no understanding a language that was anything but english, and it would appear that it takes his new companion a moment to realise this much. while his own english didn't sound the greatest in retrospect, it was enough confirmation for wally to pace along after him with a certain amount of excitement within his steps. with what he'd been able to piece together from the broken speech, there were going about assigning him to a pilot. he'd been close with the last ace they paired him with in the allies, someone who could stand his mindless blabber and not feel pestered with every little thing he wished to show the other. missions were often a hassle with walter in tow, but the duo somehow managed to make it work in the end.

- and just like that, the escort he'd been given across the the pow camp had left him to fend for himself with the likes of this new pilot. what was one to say in a situation such as this? did he simply introduce himself? attempt to cobble together some miscellaneous german words he'd been picking up? of course, none of this was honestly thought out by the dim pigeoneer. ❛ - hiya! ❜ the scotsman's greeting is soon enough piped up with bubbly exuberance for what was unfolding, even the pigeon that was sat upon his shoulder seemingly in - tune with its handler as it ruffles its feathers. a hand is extended the supposed pilot's way, wally flashing the whites of his teeth in a pearly grin. ❛ my name's wally! - erm, major armstrong! jeez, y'er tall! ❜ it was typical of the man to go off the rails with whatever he was speaking about, but it was an observation that even he couldn't ignore; he looked particularly laughable besides this man, hardly coming close to reaching the cusp of his shoulder. ❛ they said i'm gonna' be y'er pigeoneer! ❜

"Good morning, Major Armstrong." The pilot took Wally's offered hand and gave it a shake. "I'm Manfred von Richthofen. Though, I believe you Allies know me better as The Red Baron? At that point, the pilot noticed the bird on the young man's shoulder. "Does your bird have a name, Major?"