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Mac
Name: McDonnagh, Aongus
Rank: Pfc
DOB, POB, Nat: 9th April 1977, Glasgow, Scotland Branch: Support
Specialty: Vehicle Mechanic
Height: 6'
Weight: 84 kg
Race: Scottish

I was born the third child in a family of six, decent sized family even by tinker standards. We spent the earlier years of my life moving around between camps around Glasgow, and none of us ever had time for much schooling. Not that we missed out from it, anything useful we learned from those days we learned from my dad or one of the other men about the camps. When I was about 12 we spent a couple of years with my mothers family in the countryside. Granddad worked for the local landowners as something between a park ranger and a poacher. The Agreement was that he could take what he wanted as long as he stopped others doing the same. Which was only set in place when they realized couldn't stop him anyway. So he told it at least, and I believe him myself. If there was a trick worth knowing, he knew it. He took me and Fergus (my older brother) under his wing for those couple of years to 'keep us out of trouble' and imparted what wisdom we were able to soak up. He had more to teach us about hunting and hiding, shooting and fishing, but when I was about 15 we moved back to the city again.

Heading back to the city turned out not to have been a good idea. My aul man had done some work re-painting and selling 'second hand' cars before we left, and the local cops hadn't forgotten about this as quickly as he thought they would. I had my first run in with the law not long after this when I was caught in a 'borrowed' car with a couple of cousins. I was still under 16, so got off with a warning. Jack (one of the cousins) wasn't so lucky though and ended up in juvey for six months. His brothers were fair pissed about this, so we found a man in my da's old business, and worked out a deal to supply him with a regular stream of 'second hand' merchandise. Just cars at first, but when he saw we had a talent for it he put us in touch with his cousin, who handled just about anything.

A few years it caught up with me when one of the lads (Rory, Jacks youngest brother) was found coming out the back window of some house the cops thought he shouldn't have been in. Under 'gentle questioning' at the station (no your honor, he got those bruises falling out of the window when we caught him, then he fell down the station steps while trying to escape) he named me as his fence's middle man. When it came to my turn I knew better than to roll over on the actual fence, so the judge 'in his leniency' offered me a choice between five years or the army. Always the fool me, I went for the army.

I had some experience with cars before joining, so managed to convince them I was best suited to a mechanics job. Also, I thought it would keep me out of the line of fire if anything did happen. Not that I'm a coward, I just didn't feel like being killed for the bloody English.

After everything that's gone down recently, I hear things have gotten pretty bad at home. My type have never been exactly welcomed with open arms by the settled community, and I'm told it's gotten a lot worse since war broke out. Right now I think they need me there, not here. So that's what I'm trying to do.

I don't think it's deserting, not at this stage.

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