war mask


A soldier of the 369th Infantry Regiment, the Harlem Hellfighters. The uniform here is pieced together from photos of the soldiers of the unit late in the war. Upon arrival in France they weren’t issued equipment, rifles, or helmets, but instead were given to the French command to use with the recommendation that they were only fit for menial labor. The French outfitted them with adrian helmets and French weapons and gear. So for example you can see the ammo belt worn by the soldier is a French style belt. The container hanging off the soldiers shoulder is a late war gas mask container. The top coat is an American issue winter trench coat which you see often in late war photos of the unit.


U.S. MIA2-I-I, WW2 Civilian (noncombatant) Gas mask, Cir. 1943

Compete with the original box, sack, and pamphlet. (detailed scan of that to follow), Size medium adult.

I predict I will cosplay with this (but not on my face because the filter may contain asbestos!) for fall out, but not until the smell of basement crawl space fades!

Camus’ names

// Just for clarification, since I don’t believe I’ve written this publicly anywhere and I don’t want anyone getting confused by my constant name-changing in threads, here is a list of the names Camus goes by, and what parts of his timeline they correspond to:

Anytime during or before the War of Shadows (aka FE1/FE11) - Camus [’of Grust’, ‘the Sable Knight,’ or any variation]

Anytime in Valentia/Valm, or between the two wars (aka FE2) - Zeke [no memory of his life prior]

During the War of Heroes (aka FE3/FE12) and anytime he wishes to conceal his identity - Sirius [’of some made up country’ - with or without mask]

Post-War of Heroes timeline - “Camus is dead” [knows he’s Camus of Grust but denies it; insists on using the name Zeke]

Any indiscriminate timeline or AU - Camus

@vrdrah​  |  sc

          THE  SUN  SPLITS  the horizon, so violent  &  gentle all at once with fingers of light slipping between the slats of lurid purple,  climbing  up to sit into the sky.  blue slinks into  blood,  crimson seeping into the last vestiges of night.  it’s husky, heavy, hushed in the way it can only be after a downpour.  clay  &  humus  &  the scent of worms pushing up through the soil swirls in her nose.  it’s cool,  BRISK  against the nape of her neck.  she pushes on, heels sucking muck up around her ankles, dotting the backs of her trousers with little flecks of gray.  

                   ❛                       we don’t have long.   ❜   &  her voice is plain but  strong,  unyielding as she marches on.  ❛  the wounded need tending.   ❜    she shrugs away the twist of black creeping between her ribs, the mottle of a battle scraped away painting her features in lieu of her war mask.   ❛                    you’ll come with us, ❜  lexa says,  &  it’s no question but a command.