"I just want to know," the chaplain says earnestly, "is there anything I can do for you?"

Brad narrowly resists raising an eyebrow. "I did indicate that I'm not particularly interested in participating in prayers at this time."

"Corporal Person made your religious affiliation clear," the chaplain confirms. "But I'm here for all the men, not just the Christian ones."

It's not exactly polite to yank this guy's chain, but Brad can't resist.

He takes a moment before responding. "There is one thing," he admits slowly. "With Hanukkah coming, and all."

"It's hard to be away from home at the holidays," the chaplain agrees, apparently not recognizing in the slightest the extent to which Hanukkah is really not that kind of holiday. There's no 'I'll be home for Hanukkah, you can count on me' mythos. Passover, maybe. Though Brad hasn't been home for that in years, either, and he honestly doesn't much care.

"What can I do?" The chaplain is so eager to be useful, it's pitiful.

Brad waits a beat. "Batteries for these fucking NVGs. Sir."

The chaplain blinks. That was obviously not what he expected, but he rallies pretty well. "I'll see what I can do."

Brad slides back under the vehicle, not bothering to wait for the chaplain to walk away.

Ray's voice comes from above. "When the fuck is Hanukkah, anyway?"

"The 25th," Brad says.

"...of December?" Ray sounds puzzled now. "I'm pretty sure that's--"

"Fuck off, Ray," Brad says amiably, and Ray does.

The End