0900hrs, January 20th, 2001
Sienna Grobla District, Free City of Gdansk
Clear, -13^oC

The new day that greets you comes with clear blue skies, but is bitterly cold. The wood-gas generator struggles to keep the athletic building's interior temperature above freezing. The machine isn't meant for a structure this large. And even with a few weeks of repairs and renovations, it's always drafty. Outside there's about a foot of snow on the ground. A lot of ice is built up on the Martwa Wisla river too.

Breakfast was hot, and you've since rested up following almost a solid week of mounted and dismounted patrols. The Mad Dogs haven't fired a shot in anger in weeks. That probably won't last though...

Ferro exits the shower and dresses in freshly laundered uniform. She took extra long in the hot shower. Something told her she might not get such a luxury again for a while. Same goes for washed clothes. As she tied back her hair it was noticed how easier it was now. She got it cut over what amounted to a christmas holiday. A trip to the little cafeteria results in her just getting a few scraps and none of it still hot. A consequence of taking the extra long shower she guess.

Next, Ferro went outside and checked the fuel gauge on Alpha. It still pained her that they had to give up the mangled remains of Lobo. Alpha doesn't have a kevlar liner or bullet resistant glass, nor the memories she had with the better Humvee. Fuel in the vehicle is checked. Ferro then goes to where the fuel supply is stored (outside I expect). She's looking for a combined total to figure how much driving Alpha can do before it's left in the Krok's dust, so to speak. Even if they aren't going to be heading far it would be good to know regardless.

Ferro then heads back inside to see if there's a meeting happening. If it's quiet she'll lay back on her cot for a little while (will post again).

Jake Ward was loaded in his full gear, running and pushing as hard as he could.

Fuck this is harder than I thought it would be... so much for my great ideas.. he thought.

"Hold on Walsh, another turn coming up!" the Medic said.  His hands gripped the wheelbarrow handles tightly has his legs pumped to propel him as fast as he could... at least as fast as he could without completely losing control.

"Have the idlers placed along the rail Mister Allen..." Jake shouted as the pair entered the second turn around the compound.  It was a quote from a book about wooden ships and iron men that Jake had read at Boy Scout camp.  He'd fancied it so much that he'd memorized a few quotes and passages.

Physical Training with the new wheelbarrow... great idea... fucking brilliant...

Jake's legs were steadily filling up with lactic acid.  He was hopeful he could make it at least two laps, but things were not looking good.  If they didn't make this turn, it wouldn't matter though.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:24, Sun 14 Jan.

Varis sits and watches Ward do laps pushing Walsh around the compound. Each time the Americans pass by, he shouts something cleverly insulting (in his own estimation).

"You look like drunk Russian pushing sack of potatoes to collective farm!"

"You would win medal at gulag Olympics!"

"You look like Lenin taking Stalin home from Communist party!"

Varis hopes that Ward runs out of steam before he runs out of material.

-
This message was last edited by a game editor at 22:44, Sun 14 Jan.

”Faster dude, faster!” Chris Walsh yelled without looking back over his shoulder, one gloved hand gripping the side of what most people would probably think was a wheelbarrow that he was sat inside tightly.

Yeah. Looks like a wheelbarrow. To a civilian. But this was actually a test of the Mark I Armored Casualty Recovery Vehicle (ACRV). Only it was unarmored. Walsh had mooted the idea of jury-rigging some sandbags to the sides for additional crew protection but the design team had decided that the power plant - Ward - probably wouldn’t have been able to handle the extra weight so the armour was vetoed, they were going for light and fast. Like the dune buggies that some of the Army Light Divisions had been equipped with.

Its weaponry was seriously lethal. One whack across the back of the legs with the broomstick that was in Walsh’s other hand would take out any opponent. He’d initially suggested a TOW launcher but that had also been vetoed on weight grounds. That and the fact that Mad Dogs didn’t actually have a TOW launcher. Further requests for the Carl Gustav had been similarly vetoed, this time for safety reasons, on the grounds that they might actually blow up Kaminski’s penthouse by mistake. Granted the broom might have to go if they painted red crosses on it as someone had suggested.

But for now Walsh was holding the broomstick like Sir Lancelot holding a….well….lance…in one hand, using it to gesture at Babicevs, while clutching the side of the ACRV with the other when the thing started to wobble as they took the next corner, causing him to let go of the side and place his hand on top of his head to ensure that his combat vehicle crewman headgear - aka Stetson - didn’t fall off. ”Dude, we’re fucking wobbling here!”

"Weebles wobble Walsh, but they DO NOT FALL DOWN," Jake shouted as pushed his legs to 105% and steadied his grip.

He kept telling himself the same thing over and over... Two full laps... two full laps...

"Target sighted! Ten o'clock!" Walsh yelled, shifting his ass from one side to the other as the wheelbarrow's left wheel left the ground, the shift of weight returning all three wheels to the ground. "One Latvian! CHARGE!" Bringing his lance broomstick to bear on Varis, Walsh starts to whistle 'Garryowen'...

Jose sits in the cafeteria, eating the last of a helping of warm-ish porridge from a cup, while sitting at a small table with a pair of the civilians. He laughs gently as young Konrad makes a funny face at him from across the table, the boy's blonde hair briefly sticking to his out-struck tongue. Meanwhile, Lucia, the boy's mother, turns to lightly scold the boy. "Zostaw go. On jest zabawny." Jose says to Lucia, before giving her a quick wink.

Jose and Lucia had grown close over the past few weeks, the hint of a romantic relationship starting to form. She had helped nurse the American back to health and taught him a light smattering of Polish, and in return Jose, well Jose wasn't quite sure what she was getting from the bonding. Perhaps a sense of having some measure of safety, or a role model for Konrad? He isn't sure what she was getting out of the relationship and didn't think he was a good role model, but he liked the woman, despite the fact that she was a little older than he was. And her son made him laugh. The pair of civilians offered a glimpse of normal life despite the ravages of the world outside the walls of the compound.

Jose looks up and nods to Ferro as she walks in, a bit late to the morning meal. Ferro notices that Jose's face is now unbandaged, but a long, raw pink scar is starting to form on the left side where he had been grazed by a bullet in the sewers. His left ear, relatedly, is partially missing. As the trio finish their meal, Jose overhears chatter from others in the kitchen, and then speaks to the woman and son. "Podążać. Zabawa." Konrad starts to whine, not wanting to go out into the chillier morning air. Jose gives a more serious look at the boy. "Podążać." He then ushers them both outside to watch the silliness ensuing.

As soon as they walk out through the main doors of the compound and with his concerns about the cold immediately dissipating, Konrad starts laughing as the pair of Mad Dogs go careening by, the wheelbarrow starting to wobble dangerously. Jose smiles as well - it was only a matter of time until some undoubtedly hilarious disaster would befall the racers, and he wanted to see it. As Ward and Walsh go screaming by a second time, Jose calls out. "Ay you got this, Ward. Muy macho!" he yells and laughs as he flexes his biceps, showing support for the other Americans and their unorthodox round of PT. He then looks around to get a feel for the day, and checks to see what other Mad Dogs are now present and to see what else might happen around the compound today.

Tosh watches silently from the roof at the session below of the rest of the Mad Dogs recovering and trying to get back into fighting shape after they're numerous injuries.  He is tempted to yell down at them but, he lets them have their fun.  Hed turns to walk away, stops, and returns to the ledge.  "OI!  WE ALL SHOULD BE DOIN' THAT EVRYDAY MATES!"

"Przypływa łódź." Zdzisław calls up to Tosh (on the roof). The crippled Pole is down in the snow with his goats, leaning on his crutch, with his other arm pointing downriver. "Boat." he hollers next, perhaps unsure if the British Mad Dog up on the lookout duty speaks Polish. Sure enough, there's a motorized craft on the Martwa Wisla and heading this way. The shouting and fun with the wheelbarrow dies down, and those outside soon hear the boat's engine against the cold morning wind. Things are different than they used to be though. The city is unified and peaceful (albeit under totalitarian rule). And, unknown or not, a boat out on the river isn't cause to call for stand to. Zdzisław's voice doesn't even carry alarm, he's simply pointing it out. There's no resupply scheduled for today and the boat isn't just passing by. The engine changes tempo, with the small craft slowing and turning towards the compound's dock.

Tosh stops is yelling and looks down to Zdzisław calling up to him.  Trying to figure out what he's saying, he looks in the direction he is pointing and finally sees the boat approaching.  He reaches down for his AN/PRC-126 radio and transmits.  "Roof top ta all radios, we got a vessel comin' in ta the dock area!"

The craft arriving at the compound's dock is a skiff, not unlike Gdansk's riverboat taxis. The only difference being that it's fitted with an outboard engine instead of relying on oarsmen (usually the paying passengers). A woman is seated up near the raised prow, Kalashnikov resting casually across her lap. She's dressed in a large purple hoody underneath US Army issue combat rigging. A hand radio is clipped to one of the latter's shoulder straps. At the stern, a bearded fellow maneuvers the boat via the outboard engine's steering arm. He wears faded blue jeans and a black winter coat, under a chest rig. The same brand of civilian hand radio as the woman's is visible on his kit too. His Kalashnikov is leaning against the inside of the boat. Lastly, seated in the middle of the skiff, is a middle aged passenger.

The skiff's wooden bow rubs against the dock as it makes contact, scraping off some icicles, while the woman uses an outstretched gloved hand to physically bring the craft to a stop. The engine cuts out, with the silence making it known that a few words are exchanged before the passenger exits the boat alone. He then heads across the grounds towards the main building. During the walk, a meaningful look is given to where several graves exist even though they're completely buried under snow. The visitor then makes eye contact with the Mad Dogs who were racing about with the wheelbarrow, and are now focused on him. "Hello, good morning, men. I am here for Hauptmann Kessler." he announces with a soft voice, which carries a slight German accent. The visitor lowers a plaid scarf that's wrapped loosely around his face and accompanies the greeting with a polite, if not awkward, smile. The hand is wrapped in white gauze. He then uses the bandaged hand to return the scarf so that is partly covers his face again. The rest of his clothing is entirely civilian. He's even wearing a tie. After another moment, he's escorted inside and seated in the building's little mess hall to wait for Kessler.

Kessler enters and seats himself across the table from the man he knows as "Olympic". A few other Mad Dogs are present, those who escorted the BND supervisor inside as well or entered out of curiosity. Olympic doesn't seem to mind the conversation he's about to have isn't going to be entirely private. Although he does motion for Rodriguez to close the door (to the hallway). Michael is first to speak and inquires about his visitor's bandaged hand. "Oh das. Ich habe es an einer wertlosen Lampe verbrannt." Olympic explains, glancing down at the wrapped gauze, looking a little embarrassed. Oh that. I burned it on a worthless lamp. The Hauptmann then asks about Karel Janku, the Czech defector-turned BND operative (and former member of Kessler's team). The response is a non-answer and is delivered without emotion. "Arbeiten." Working.

Olympic removes his coat and peels his scarf off, laying them on the bench seat. "There is a man coming from Kiel. I mentioned to you about him before. He will arrive tonight on the coast." the older German begins. "I would like you to be there and bring him here." A pause follows to give Kessler an opportunity to respond. Olympic didn't come out this way just to ask for the Mad Dogs to transport someone across town though. "He is going south, to Malbork. Kiel only sent him alone, as, you know, they know we have you and your unit on hand, so to speak." The BND station chief looks across at Kessler for a moment, before gently tapping his uninjured hand's fingers on the Formica table. "So as you can guess, I need you to go into the field with our man."

Olympic pushes his eyeglasses further up his nose and gives a brief glance to Mad Dogs who're on the sidelines. He then returns his focus to the Hauptmann. "As I said before, we get this done and I can pull you and your unit out."
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:25, Tue 23 Jan.

There’s a pause while Kessler processes the message that Olympic has just delivered Actually no, not a message. Orders. After a period of what might be called freelancing, this is coming directly from German Third Army Headquarters. And must, presumably, be important.

”OK.” he replies after a moment. ”Where is he being landed? How far away from the City? And in whose territory? What’s the potential for anyone interfering with us getting him here? And by here, I take it you mean here?” He gestures around him, to indicate the rowing club. ”I mean, he will be staying here at our kaserne until he moves on?”

The German sits back, takes a sip of tea from the mug with the image of John Paul the Second on it that he had more or less claimed as his own. ”How long will he be staying in Danzig? I’ll have some supply requests, things that we’ll need before we head south. I’ll give you a list before you leave. I presume you’ll be able to square anything we need with the new Government. Don't worry, I wont be asking for anything ridiculous.” BND must. presumably, have some influence with Nowak’s people. There are no questions about the identity of the newcomer or why he needs to go to Malbork. Neither Kessler nor anyone else in the room needs to know that.

He pauses then, waits for Olympic’s responses, and to see if anyone else wants to jump in with any questions. Or pick up on the comment about pulling them out, something Kessler had kept to himself until then, partly because he hadn’t been entirely sure that Olympic intended to keep his word.

Ferro slips in through the door right before Rodriguez can close it. She initially stands along the wall, but only for about fifteen seconds of listening in before realizing what's happening is more interesting and important than she thought it would be. Ferro relocates from the wall and sits on the same bench as Kessler across from the other German. It doesn't go unnoticed that the older gentleman goes from speaking in German to English. It's certainly meant to include the audience on the sidelines so she starts prepping her own questions.

There's a big difference between getting to a place and getting into a place, especially if it's Malbork. She hasn't been there but knows that it is the headquarters of the combined armies under the Soviet Baltic Front command. Security is probably tight. Following Kessler's series of questions and a supply request, Ferro asks for a little clarification. "Are we expected to escort your man to Malbork? Or infiltrate the city with him?" As the words escape her mouth she felt like she already knew the answer. When it comes she's already ready with a follow up. "How much time do we have once we complete the pickup tonight?" More time would mean more prep and exploring options on the ground.

Her own questions and mental picture of the map leads her to look sideways at Kessler and rewind things back to his supply request. "We have fuel for the BTR, that's it. We will need ethanol for everything else." Meaning the Humvee and Iltis.

Ferro then returns her thoughts to what lay south. "We haven't been that way since the summer." she says while looking down at the table. The comment is almost just her speaking aloud. Ferro then looks to Olympic and mulls asking about getting an updated briefing on the situation there. She ultimately decides against it. Olympic seemed like he knew how to do his job and so a report would already be coming if the information is available. Ferro asks a different question. "We... have developed a sort of responsibility here. People have grown to depend on us for protection. While we are away will there be any kind of arrangements made to help keep them safe?"
This message was last edited by the player at 00:54, Wed 24 Jan.

"Stacks Beach. Stogi." Olympic answers when asked for the drop point. It's northeast of the compound, a sandy stretch of the coast midway between the Westerplatte and mouth of the Vistula. It's also only two or three kilometers from where Nowak made landfall and launched her coup, but that was weeks ago. The coast is deserted once again. When Kessler asks whose territory it is, his fellow countryman chuckles quietly, "Yours now I suppose." Had the arrival of Olympic's operative occurred on schedule, weeks ago, the pickup might've been more complicated. "I don't expect you will have trouble. Port Island has a few exiles and outcasts, loners, but nothing your unit needs to worry about." The BND station chief then clarifies that the man to be picked up will need to be brought here, to the compound, but only for as long as it takes for the Mad Dogs to get underway (south). Hours or a day, no more.

"Drop off is set for high tide, 23:30 hours." Olympic explains next. The older German fetches something in his pocket and places it on the table. It's a glow stick, but one that emits IR, so invisible to the naked eye. "Use that as a beacon and crack it a good twenty minutes early. He will challenge you with swordfish. The reply is mountain. Both in English."

"I can get you some supplies before you leave." Olympic replies after that matter is raised. He then asks Michael, "You recall the woman with the bicycle who brought you to our first meeting?" He doesn't wait for a reply. It's understandable if the Hauptmann doesn't remember. "Anyway, she handles logistics for me now and is good at it. You will get what you need in time." Ferro's inclusion of fuel is then met with a nod, "Ethanol fuel too."

The question of escort or infiltrate is met with a moment of silence. Olympic then pushes his eyeglasses further up on his nose with his bandaged hand and answers, "At this time it is escort. But be prepared for the needs of the mission to change, and you to infiltrate with him." He then offers a soft smile, "I know this unit can adapt on its feet." The timeframe for the mission is set at four days which starts following the pickup at Stacks Beach, and includes travel time. Lastly, Ferro directs discussion to the compound, or rather, the safety and security of its inhabitants. The reply that comes is brief but sounds genuine. "I expected as much. Arrangements will be made."

Olympic then glances at the other Mad Dogs who're present and gives the group a collective nod. Everyone looks rested up, healed, and a lot better than they were in December. His focus returns to Kessler. "The pickup should be easy enough. After that it is just a matter of moving through enemy territory and bypassing security. Once our man and his baggage are brought into Malbork, you simply need to get out. What happens next won't be your fight... unless your unit wishes to remain in Poland." The last part is given with a raised eyebrow.

There doesn't seem to be any further questions at this time, so Olympic puts on his coat again. "Karel is fact finding. He will be here before you leave to pass on what little intelligence we can provide regarding the situation with the Baltic Front." A nod and pat on Kessler's shoulder is given as he gets up and leaves the little mess hall (departing by boat quickly afterwards).

Jose holds the door for a second as Ferro slips in, then closes it as instructed. He decides to stand near the door, with one foot up on the wall behind him, bracing him. He smoothes out his hair with his left hand, feeling it scratch against the now-course topography of his left cheek on the way up to his brace of dark hair. He stays quiet as the newcomer starts speaking in German, not knowing what any of it meant. Once the man switches to English however, Jose feels his hackles begin to rise.

A mission? For this nobody? Pulling us out? Jose searches his memory - he had heard Kessler briefly mention a link to German High Command roughly a month earlier. Was this man that link? - then the truth starts to finally dawn on the burly Mexican American and his brows furrow. This man, his statement about having the Mad Dogs "on hand", the mission, his promise... he was a spook. Kessler was working with what was probably a German spook. Jose crosses his arms and opens his ears. He didn't trust spies at all, and whatever this man was selling Jose decided he wasn't buying. At least not yet. He resolves to meet up with Kessler after this impromptu meeting was over to get some answers.

In the meantime, a promise to get him out? Jose had never even considered the possibility, and especially not after getting separated from the rest of his unit. Of course, a promise like that would have unbelievable strings attached to it. Ideas of suicide missions into enemy headquarters flitted through Jose's mind. That's what he figured he could expect from this man.
This message was last edited by a game editor at 00:13, Thu 25 Jan.

Aware that several pairs of eyes are on either him or their unexpected visitor, Kessler rises when Olympic takes his leave, looks about the room. ”Right, we’ll have a full briefing at ten hundred hours. Mad Dog personnel only. I’ll answer any questions then.” He then rises, follows the BND chief out of the mess room.

---

0959hrs
Kessler walks back in to the mess room one minute before ten o’clock, accompanied by Lukas Fischer. Both are in full German Army uniform, their flecktarn fatigues showing their respective rank badges and unit patches, each with the small black, red, and gold flag of the Federal Republic of Germany on their left shoulder, maroon berets on their heads.

”OK, can I have everyone’s attention please?” he announces, waiting a moment for the conversation to die down, while also looking around to make sure that everyone that should be here is here and no one that should not be here is present. The second category includes Karolina Schleicher. For all that she seems to be making every effort to fit in with the Mad Dogs, when it comes to briefing an operation being undertaken on behalf of the BND there’s no seat inside the room for her.

”As you know we had a visitor this morning. He is a representative of German Intelligence, the BND. He and I have been in sporadic contact for some time now and through him I have had occasional messages from Third German Army Headquarters in Kiel. As such, at this point I am acting under orders from my legitimate chain of command.” He doesn’t go any further than that for now. He could make the point that as the ranking NATO officer in the room that chain of command extends from him to the NATO soldiers present. But not everyone here is a NATO soldier. And he’d rather have willing volunteers than unwilling conscripts.

”The Mad Dogs have proven themselves a dozen times over. The BND needus. I don’t know what they’re planning but I do know that they wouldn’t be asking for our help if it wasn’t important. Important for all our countries. And once this operation is over there’s a way out of here, back to the west, to Germany. I know for most of you that’s not home but it’s a step in the right direction. There will be a place in the German Army and German citizenship for anyone that wants it -“ at this point he looks at Ferro and Babicevs ”- and for anyone that doesn’t I’ll do all that I can to help you get back to your own countries.” This time he looks at the Americans, the British, Kolstrup. The latter could walk to the Danish border from Kiel in twenty four hours. ”Of course nobody has to come to Germany. If anyone wants to stay here that’s their decision.”

”So, ja, that’s the deal. We do one more job and we get pulled out, to Germany. Are you all with me? And does anyone have any questions?”

Jake sheepishly raised his hand.

"Uh...just because I know I'll get asked by household six... does the citizenship offer apply to dependents?  Or like a green card for them if I'm in the German army or whatever?" he asked.  Jake didn't think Germany would be ideal for him if there was a way to get back to the USA, but Gosia would get a vote in wherever he'd be going next.
This message was lightly edited by the player at 17:33, Fri 26 Jan.

Jose stands in the mess room, his usual light-heartedness replaced by a stern facial expression - the possibility of an exit from the war weighing heavily on him, on top of what was surely to be a tough mission. It was good that Kessler was holding a briefing to help clarify what was happening for everyone, but there were a lot of questions left to be answered and he wasn't sure Kessler would have those answers.

First, the spook. Knowing Kessler's fastidious nature, Jose instantly presumes the Captain would have properly vetted him before ever having followed his orders. Meaning the man was actual German intelligence and represented actual orders from actual NATO HQ? That was the first Jose had heard of NATO orders in a long time - not since the 8th had rolled out in middle of the summer and his unit's subsequent run eastward that ended in Klaipeda. Jose spent some long minutes grappling with the idea of NATO orders. Was he still a NATO soldier? Did he still have to adhere to the chain of command? He eventually comes to a realization, falling back onto his old misguided gang code of honor - I'm not going to punk out until I get my walking papers. The mission though...that was a different story. He raises his hand in between comments.

"Sir, this hombre, Olympic. Is he trustworthy? What I mean to say is, we don't know him for shit. Does he mean what he says about being able to get us out? And this escort to Malbork of all places - That's the Soviet HQ in northern Poland last I heard. Heading that way is going to be extremely dicey. Do you think he's the type to send us out on a suicide mission?" Jose didn't trust spooks - they represented an authority that didn't live by any moral code other than getting a job done, and he didn't want to end up a casualty as a result of some spook's personal ambitions.

"And secondly, getting back to Germany. Any idea how that might work? It's one thing for this guy to make a promise like that, but another to make it actually happen. Maybe he could get us out the same way he's bringing this guy in? Even if he does make good on it though - what then? Say we make it to Germany - Are we going to get our discharge papers? Or just get cycled right back here when some general needs more bodies?" Jose didn't think Kessler had any ideas about that stuff, but figured he'd ask. Maybe Olympic had shared more about what was happening back home than he had told the unit.

For no particular reason, this Olympic reminds Per of Vincent Wright. And that working relationship didn't end well. For anyone. Per trusts Kessler, though, and if Kessler trusts Olympic, that's enough for Per. Others have raised concerns that Per shares, but the Dane sees no point in repeating what's already been said.

-

"Yes, Captain, how do we know we can trust this Olympic's promises? He could be a German version of Vincent Wright. Remember that [air-quotes] 'CIA' [end air-quotes] sack of shit?"

Varis withholds that the prospect of going to America, perhaps now more real than ever before, is giving him a bit of a chub. Truth is, he's bored, jonesing for the adrenaline of physical danger. A raid on Malbork sounds like it could be fun.

"But Varis has nothing better to do right now than to fuck up Moscow's shit, so if that's the job, cool. Varis will need more Soviet 40mm grenades, though. Pamela has big appetite."

-
This message was lightly edited by a game editor at 22:53, Fri 26 Jan.

Ferro goes back and lays on her cot until Kessler's morning briefing. A few minutes pass with her staring at the ceiling and replaying what the German visitor said. Not a whole lot was said but there was still a lot to unpack. Ferro then gives up thinking about that and more about their upcoming pickup. She rolls over and yanks her map from the webbing under the cot. A review of the area north of the river is studied. It looks like a quick run to the beach. No real problems, probably. There's only one potential issue that goes noticed by her. The drive will be done probably in darkness and along Forest City's outer territory. Ferro then checks her watch and stuffs the map into her pocket while getting to her feet.

At the meeting Ferro is quietly in thought. She always figured that there would come a day that she'd get to leave Poland, but sitting her now, it feels strange. And where did she want to go? She closes her eyes for a moment as Kessler continues talking.

Varis mentions Wright as a sack of shit and Ferro finally opens her eyes again. "Hey, don't talk about my old boss like that." she tells him quietly and almost a whisper. "Oh wait... nevermind." Where the hell did he end up, she wondered.

Ferro then answers Kessler's question. "Yes, with you."
This message was last edited by the player at 01:10, Sat 27 Jan.

Tosh nods his head, "A proper pint in a proper pub?  I think it's worth a shot Cap'n."

"Dude..." Walsh leans over, in Babicevs' direction. "The last time I looked you could count the number of CIA Officers in Poland on one hand. And none of them ever used the name Vincent Wright. Don't know who this guy you know is but I doubt he was Agency." He shrugs, grins. "I know these things."

The American then sits back, looks at Kessler. Truth be told he doesn't; know if this is really his fight. But then he doesn't actually know what is any more. After all, Uncle Sam wants him dead. Which makes the carrot that Kessler is offering look like a kinda big stick. He hadn't even really fought for Nowak, having been out of action for most of the coup. If Ivan comes knocking on the door he'd fight for Gdańsk.  But to go poking the bear by heading to down town Malbork? He's less keen on that.

Then Varis and Ferro both say that they're in. Walsh nods. That's it really, isn't it. You fight for your buddies, have their back, just like they have yours. "I'm in. But I'll pass on the ride back to Germany if it's all the same with you Herr Hauptmann. There's nothing for me in the West., I'll be staying in the Big G."

He then turns to Babicevs, as though a thought has just crossed his mind. "Hang on a second buddy. As I remember correctly isn't Pammie with me? Didn't I let you borrow her after Madge walked out on you?" He grins. "It's fine, who am I to come between you and your lady. You keep her, treat her good. I'll find something else in the armory."

"

Kessler takes the easiest question first. "It applies to dependents." He doesn't really see BND arguing over a few extra places but if it comes down to it he'll swear as a German Army officer that anyone on the list is a Mad Dog. That includes civilian auxiliaries. If it comes down to that he knows an Irish Doctor whose skills Germany could certainly use but that's a private conversation for another time. One that will probably end up with him getting told that he's abandoning Gdansk. But his loyalty is to something larger than the newly establish Free City.

He turns to Rodriguez next. "Yes. To the best of my knowledge Malbork is still Soviet headquarters for all of northern Poland. Which is why this mission is important. Do I think that we'd be ordered on a suicide mission? No, I don't. I think they're asking us because we've proven our capabilities time and again. They probably don't have the manpower to send a full team. And why would they when they think they have people here that can handle the mission?" Germany was, after all, still facing enemies on two fronts.  German Special Operations Forces were overstretched dealing with the Soviets and a considerably better armed and equipped French.

"As for the pullout, I don't have the specifics but I'd imagine it will be sea. The German Baltic coast is a day's  sail from here. Once we're back I would imagine arrangements will be made to try and get you back to United States forces. But I don't know how easy that will be. I'm sorry, Jose, I can't promise you a ticket out of the War. I wish it was that easy but it's not. If you don't want to be returned to US command - or that's not possible - there's a place for you - for everyone - in Fernspähkompanie Dreihundert, Long Range Recon Company Three Hundred. That's my unit and I will fight tooth and nail to keep anyone that wants to stay under my command. You are my people and I will not throw anyone under a bus. But nor am I going to make promises that I can't keep. Germany is at war. Not just with the Soviets but with the French. On that note I will be speaking to Mr Czerny privately to work out how we're going to deal with his situation. If he wants to come."

The German Captain shrugs, raises his hands upwards for a moment. "I'm sorry Jose. I'm trying to be as open as I can but I don't have all of the answers. Not at the moment. Like I said, it's a step closer to home. That's all I can offer just now. Oh, and what I said to Herr Ward about dependents...that applies to everyone. Just in case you were wondering."

Turning then to Babicevs, Ferro, Walsh, and Lines Kessler nods to each of them in turn. "Thank you." Walsh also gets a quietly spoken "Understood." before Kessler goes back to addressing the entire group.

"One more thing...if we do this, we do it as Mad Dogs." The German then raises his left hand to his right shoulder, rips off the Fernspähkompanie Dreihundert badge that's velcor'd to his left shoulder. Beside him Fischer does the same while Kessler reaches into his pocket, takes out two badges, one hi viz, one lo viz, showing the head of a snarling bulldog. "One of our tenants used to be a tattoo artist. I got her to put this together.

He slaps the patch on his shoulder in place of his German Army one while Fischer rises and moves about the room, handing out multiple copies of both the hi viz and lo viz versions to everyone that wants them. "I hope you all like it." He grins. "It was a bastard finding all that velcro."

+2 Unit patches (1 x hi viz, 1 x lo viz)
- many Unit patches

Varis takes the new unit patches from Kessler, looks them over. He's a bit hurt that the Captain decided against the design he submitted- a bulldog humping a bear- but this insignia is still pretty cool, and long overdue. Varis only wishes Major McCarthy could be here to see the unit badge he inspired. He closes his eyes, says a little prayer,

"We miss you, Major. Every time Varis sees this badge, he will remember you."

-

Tosh reaches over and picks up the pair of patches from Kessler, looks at them intently, and smiles.  "Bloody fuck'n good sir!  Like the Musketeers, eh?  All fer one, one fer all!"

Ferro takes two styles of the badge and pockets them. "The run the coast looks fairly simple." Kessler is told. She then tells him of a potential issue. "But it might cross close to Forest City territory, where any patrols they have might be. On one hand things are quiet now. But on the other hand, in darkness and with no warning an accident might happen." Ferro wasn't pushing for the little community to be prewarned of Mad Dog travels in the area though. Her alternative just calls for leaving earlier and bouncing around a little in the vehicle. "But if we give ourselves extra time we can take the Krok off road and keep to the lifeless wastelands. At least for part of the way."

"I can do it. Or someone else." Ferro offers.

Jake nodded, his face relieved when Kessler confirmed that dependents would be eligible for the citizenship deal.  He thought about what it would mean to start over in Germany - he spoke almost none of the language, though it certainly seemed easier than the intricacies of Polish.  Continuing in the German military would mean the absolute basics, like shelter, food, and payment by at least local scrip, would be covered.  It could be dangerous - yes, but that was a given here in Poland, and being a medic, it was as likely as not that he could be assigned to a hospital or military clinic - especially in the first few years while he sorted out his German.

Jake was still uneasy about fully committing without talking to Gosia though. I mean, how do you broach that without a discussion -  "Zarejestrowałem nas, abyśmy mogli mieszkać i pracować w Niemczech, kochanie!"

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
I signed us up to live and work in Germany today honey!

---

Ward did have enough faith that it would work out to pick up two morale patches, giving the Captain...
'no... Hauptmann... it's Hauptmann.  You might as well start working on this now...' another slight nod.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:09, Mon 29 Jan.

Jose leans back in reflection. He can't remember the last time he had heard an officer be so forthcoming with him. He doesn't know if Kessler can actually get any Mad Dogs a spot in his Germany three hundred company or whatever, but he believed that Kessler would do everything he could to make it happen if that ended up being the way the chips fell. The Hauptmann was stern, but he seemed a good man. He cared about those under his command - it reminded Jose of his old sergeant Bishop.

Maybe Jose would end up back with a unit pushing into Poland again, or maybe he wouldn't, assuming he even makes it back to Germany. But one thing is certain; that if he doesn't go on the mission, he'd be left here in Gdansk while his friends were out risking their lives, and he knew that sitting the mission out would haunt him forever. He still didn't trust the spook and knew he never would, but he trusted those in the unit. And if he died, he reflect, at least he'd die in good company. He reaches up to grab the patches as Kessler hands them out, pocketing them immediately. "We're with you, sir."

Kessler nods in response to Ferro's suggestion. "Good thinking. We'll go overland." There's no reason for Forest City to be hostile - the Mad Dogs had helped them in the past - but in the dark misunderstandings could occur, and those misunderstandings could have fatal consequences.

His next comments are addressed to everyone. "I don't see the need to take multiple vehicles for the first part of this. There shouldn't be any trouble and the Humvee might struggle cross country so we'll stick with the Krok only. Ferro, you drive. Rodriguez, think you can handle the 14.5mm? Sergeant Major Fischer can give you a run down on it before we leave."

"Then there's me, Sergeant Kolstrup, Sergeant Babicevs, Lines, Ward, and Walsh as escorts." It's only eight people but it  sounded like the most formidable force that the Mad Dogs had put out for some time. "OK, for now see to your personal kit then get some rest. I have given BND a long list of things that we would like." He pauses, chuckles. "A very long list. At the top were medical supplies, followed by grenades of all sorts. I don't expect they'll be able to give us everything I asked for but we'll see. We'll split up anything we get amongst us. Karel Janku will also be coming to give us a briefing on the situation at Malbork so we'll meet again when he gets here."

The German pauses, looks around the room, nods, offers up a heartfelt "Thank you everyone."

1445hrs, January 20th, 2001
Sienna Grobla District, Free City of Gdansk
Clear, -7^oC

Several hours pass. During that time the temperature rises a few degrees as a high pressure front blows in, but with it comes steadily approaching bank of clouds. It might snow tonight. There's still a few centimeters of it on the ground from the last blizzard. Warm weather gear and winter cammo are both suitable for field ops.

Just after 1440hrs, a reddish brown delivery van turns off Siennicki and onto the compound's lane. It's the same one Kessler climbed into when he first met Olympic, although the BND officer is not back for a second visit. The vehicle enters through the gate and parks in front of the shoveled walkway which leads to the main entrance. A man and woman emerge from the cab and roll up the back of the van, as Mad Dogs step outside. Karel Janku is not among them.

"Czech jeszcze nie wrócił." the male Pole informs Kessler and the other Mad Dogs. The Czech isn't back yet. When asked if there's a problem (why Karel was delayed and not present), he answers, "Jeszcze nie wiemy." We don't know yet. He then steps aside to reveal several boxes ready for unloading. The woman speaks up, "More come tonight." Olympic probably needed more time for some things. "Maybe when you are at the seaside, tonight. Or before the sun come up again. Not sure." She then lights up a cigarette and, like her comrade, stands aside so that the Mad Dogs can do the physical unloading.

When everything is brought inside, it is unboxed and an inventory is taken. Fuel and suppressed weapons are absent, but most other things are present in various quantities. The qualities are mixed, from proper pre-war factory items to locally handcrafted or refurbished.

10x Field Dressings (Prewar)
10x Medical Minor Supplies
24x M67 Fragmentation Grenades
6x  HC Smoke Grenades
6x  Signal Smoke Grenades (2 Violet, 2 Green, 2 Red)
12x Concussion Grenades (Local)
10x 40mmN HE Grenades (Local)
10x 40mmS HE Grenades (Local)
2x  Comet Para-Flares
3x RPG-7 HEAT Rounds
5x SM-2 Koncerz HE Rounds
5x SM-2 Koncerz HEAT Round
1x M72A2 LAW (Refurbished)
3x 84mm HEAT Rounds (Refurbished)
Batteries, assorted, for a total of 20 combined points of charge (+6 more from Czerny)
500x 5.45mmB Rounds
500x 7.62mmS Rounds
1000x 7.62mmL Linked Rounds
3x 100rnd. Drums (RPD)
250x 14.5mm Linked Rounds

While the Mad Dogs are huddled around the unpackaged supplies, Jan Czerny walks in. He's fully kitted up, with his pack over one shoulder, before it gets dropped against one side of the hallway. The Franco-Czech then sparks up his pipe, glancing at the items which are neatly laid out on the floor for inspection and tallying. An unopened pack of Duracell AA batteries are removed from his utility pouch and added to those on the floor as a private contribution. "Snow coming soon, I think." he murmurs, returning to the sidelines again.

Ferro picks up one of the heavy cans of KPV ammo bound for the Krok. Everything else looks like it's to be dispersed among the unit. Except for maybe some of the belted 7.62mmL. Ferro had mulled over some of the mission plan a little more since the meeting and before heading outside with the ammo she proposes a timing. "Was thinking a departure time of 2000 hours at the latest. That gives travel time, time to sweep the area on pickup, and some extra time in case a problem arises while going cross country." Even if the distance is short it's better to be early than late. Then after a response of agreement or disagreement, Ferro hauls the heavy ammunition loadout to the vehicle. As she's stepping past Czerny she nods "Welcome back."

Surveying the newly-arrived shipment of ammunition, Varis quips, "Better late than never, Saint Nicholas," He draws six locally-made 40mmS grenades to fill the balance of his Poyas B chest pouches. "Ah, the good shit," he says, digging into the M67 hand grenades. He also takes an HC smoke and 30 rounds of 5.45mm.

-
This message was last edited by a game editor at 00:06, Thu 01 Feb.

Tosh laughs at the comment by Varis.  "Yeah, right?  We were down to the nuts with alotta this stuff.  Gotta keep the hungry pigs fed!"

He then looks over to Jan, "Welcome back mate!  Oi, and thanks for the extra batteries!  How ya been hangin' there Jan?"

"Welcome back Jan," Kessler nods, offers the Frenchman a handshake. Given his general antipathy towards the French it's intended as an olive branch as sorts, together with the use of his first name. And he has just spent a month with a large number of Germans. "I'll catch up with you later. But it's good to see you." He does need to have a private chat with Czerny about what happens afterwards. But that happen later this afternoon.

Nodding in agreement with Ferro's suggestion, Kessler confirms it. "Twenty hundred it is." Looking upwards at the darkening sky, he then turns to Per Kolstrup. "Sergeant Kolstrup, can you see to it that we take all of the overwhites that are in the stores and issue them to those on the op tonight."

OOC according to stores there are seven full sets and one half set (bottoms only) of overwhites, a white civilian parka and a skimobile suit  in the stores so effectively nine sets if you take the overwhite bottoms and the parka as one set. If I've done my maths right there are eight people on the op so one per person and a spare.

Also, just fyi this will probably be my last IC post until sometime this weekend - may be Saturday, may be Sunday, not sure
This message was last edited by the player at 08:25, Thu 01 Feb.

Before

"Tosh might be a better fit on the gun, sir." Jose offers to Kessler after the suggestion of him manning the heavy cannon on the Krok. He intends no disrespect - it's just that he believes Tosh is more capable dealing with heavy machine guns, where Jose's own expertise is more in line with the RPG back in the armory.

After

Jose welcomes Jan back with a pat on the shoulder. "Aye, good to see you, man.", then goes with the others to investigate the gifts being provided to the Mad Dogs. He's amazed to see most of the items from his list are included, even more 40mmN rounds and other explosives. His mind starts to reel with the possibilities. Jose's become accustomed to the RPG-7, but he misses his old MM-1 Hawk - and decides that he'll be bringing it along as a backup weapon in the Krok later, along with the accompanying ammunition.

Tosh smiles, "I gotta decent familiarity with 'em mate!  I can take over on the way there.  I don't think he wants me on the sideline when we dismount though.  If so, I got that monster."
This message was last edited by the player at 18:38, Thu 01 Feb.

"Yes, sir," the Dane replies before heading up to the storeroom. Having had to replace some of his own battle-damaged, bloodstained cold weather clothing, Per's already quite familiar with the unit's meager stockpile of extra wearables. Tosh had been kind enough to lend him a US-issue BDU battle jacket in woodland pattern camo, and Per had commissioned one of the compound's civilian residents to remove both sleeves from his British Commando woolly-pully jumper, converting it to a sweater vest. As a result, he isn't quite as warmly dressed as he had been before the last mission, but he wouldn't be freezing to death either.

...

-

"Mr Czerny." Kessler welcomed his visitor to the space that he has set as as an 'office'. During the lull after Christmas he'd gone as far as getting one of their tenants to put together a wooden sign saying 'Hauptmann M Kessler' in exchange for a handful of Gdansk currency and two bottles of beer. That sign now now hung on the outside of a door that was firmly closed to ensure this meeting would take place in private. It was the second such meeting today, the first having been with Karolina Schleicher.   

"Jan." He corrected himself as he waved his guest to the seat opposite the desk that Schleicher had vacated less than ten minutes ago, hoping that using the Franco Czech's first name would be less formal. "It's good to have you back. I hope Hauptmann Woermann made sure that you were well looked after."

Pleasantries exchanged, Kessler sits back in his own chair. He's already loaned his flecktarn fatigues over to Kolstrup, changed into the TtsKO camouflage uniform of a Captain of VDV, even down to the blue and white striped vest. He might have to pretend to be Captain Romanov again in the near future, so everything about the uniform needs to be as accurate as possible. Including the Soviet patch on his shoulder. A hi viz Mad Dogs unit patch leans against a clock that is permanently stuck at twelve minutes after eight, proving the old joke that at least it's right twice a day. Right now Kessler feels like he would settle for the same. An OD Soviet winter field jacket hangs over the back of the chair.

"So....I'm sorry that you're hearing this slightly later than the others, it was all a bit sudden and once it was all out I had to brief them as quickly as possible. I have been ordered by German Third Army to support a German Intelligence operation taking place in this area. Hopefully it should be a relatively short operation and once it's over I have been assured that the Mad Dogs will be withdrawn back to Germany. At least, those who wish to go. Each person has their own choice to make. Mr Walsh has already indicated that he will be remaining in Gdansk." He's hardly betraying confidences given that Walsh had said so in front of everyone present at the meeting.

"Once we are back in Germany there will be the option for those that wish to join the German Army. I've already told the others that I would very much like to keep everyone under my command. But I can't make any promises. I am only a Captain. I'd imagine that where possible there may be the option to return others to American or British command."

"However...as we're both well aware Germany and France are currently at War with each other." Kessler looks up for a moment before turning his gaze back to Czerny. "You are the first Frenchman I met since ninety eight. I think I have met two more since. The journalist and one of the Doctors at St Mary's, although he might have been Belgian, I'm not sure." He shrugs. He's going off on a tangent, but this is something that he doesn't speak about much. "You know that French artillery killed my family during the occupation of the Rhineland. That may have caused me to be...harsh...with you Sergeant Chef. I apologise for that. That was not correct. You were not responsible for that."

"But, the question remains, what do we do if you come back to Germany? If it's known that you are French you are an enemy combatant. Best case scenario is probably a POW camp. I presume there are such things for captured French soldiers." Both knew that POW camp these days - for any side - was a usually euphemism for hard labour and minimal rations. No country could affords to feed those that didn't contribute somehow. "Until maybe there's a chance of a prisoner exchange." As for the worst case scenario, well...they could both use their imagination.

"I can say that you're Czech. I don't think that anyone will question that. What happens then is up to you. You can stay in the German Army. Or you can vanish in the night, try and get back to France. I can even try and get you transferred to the Western Front so that you don't have so far to walk." He knows that he's suggesting to a professional soldier that he desert. It's not a good conversation to have but it needs to be said. "They say it's all quiet there just now." The attempt to invoke the old movie title is a bad joke.  "But crossing the dead ground between us and the French isn't easy. The French call it la zone morte. We just call it Die Zone." At the time that had ended up being darkly humourous when the British and the Americans had heard about it. In German Die just meant the feminine form of 'the', was pronounced dee. But when it was written down the English speakers saw it a different way., read it as die zone, a place to die in.

He holds up a hand. "Or obviously you can stay here. In Gdansk. I'm sure that there are plenty of people who could use your skills. Woermann. Or I can put a word in with Tymoshenko. I'm sure that she would find you a place on her security detail. That way you'd be on the side of the angels so to speak. That was why you came east in the first place was it not?

Or maybe there's another option, one I hadn't thought of?"
This message was last edited by the player at 09:07, Sun 04 Feb.

Czerny remains silent as Kessler talks of events that took place far from here, but are no less important. There's a subtle nodding to his head as he listens. Apology accepted. The Franco-Czech legionnaire then relaxes back into his seat a little when the topic turns to leaving Poland. "I feel..." Jan starts, finding difficulty with his language skills and his own thoughts on the matter. "...that France can wait." There's a moment's hesitation before he adds, "For now." Czerny then gives a slight smile and nodding gesture which to Kessler seems like a polite decline to his invitation to Germany. "It is Poland for me. For now."

Jan gives the cramped little office a look from where he sits. From the sound of things, it won't be Kessler's office for much longer. It'll probably be quite strange around here without the Mad Dogs. The Franco-Czech's gaze then returns to Michael. "Maybe I go with Doctor Tymoshenko." he announces quietly. No reason is given as to why he's chosen the marooned medical staff over Woermann's Waterloo, the latter which he spent the last few weeks with. Maybe a few weeks is all he could take. "And I will check on these people sometimes after you are all gone." Czerny offers in a soft tone, referring the compound. It sounds like a genuine pledge. The Legionnaire then clarifies that he wishes to remain with the Mad Dogs until they're formally disbanded, so he will remain here until Kessler (and his accompanying Mad Dogs) return from their final mission.

The room goes still again for a moment, with Czerny mentally arranging his final thoughts into his best English. As he stands, his speech reverts to its normal tone. "Capitaine, I wish you success on final mission of this unit and your safe return to Germany." His hand is offered to Kessler and then promptly used to give a sharp salute to his commander.

After Czerny exits Kessler's office, Mad Dogs who've yet to let him know where they stand (on the final mission and repatriation) approach to announce their decisions. Fischer, Fox, and Meyer, are all available for the southern mission and all of them wish to return to Germany as well. None of them have been deployed like the other Mad Dogs in a long time, and health issues are present with all three of the aging NCOs, but they make up for it with skill and experience. They await being told if they'll be participating.

Elsewhere, the Mad Dogs draw kit from the storeroom and the resources that Olympic had just delivered. The Polish Mad Dogs (Aleksandar, Czeslaw Kaczka, & Auttenberg) take part as well. They'd been present during Kessler's briefing, and even though none of them wish to leave Poland for Germany, they're still part of the unit and available for the southern excursion to Malbork. Ammo is drawn by them, plus the remaining winter cammo whites, in case they're deployed. Alex and Piotr express the most noticeable enthusiasm regarding the chance for one last mission with their western comrades. They too await being told if they'll be participating.

Other people in the renovated athletic club go about the usual tasks, rotating through (reduced) sentry duty and pitching in with whatever chores need to be done. Over the last days and weeks, despite some heated moments when you were snowed in, the compound's inhabitants have continued to grow into somewhat of a tight knit community. Everyone seems aware they they're safer and better off together. Even those who are employed in the city continue to reside here.

By now, it's already gotten quite dark outside. Snow has started to fall as some had expected. It isn't particularly heavy and isn't reducing visibility too much, but it's there. In a few hours it will be 2000hrs and departure time...

Kessler rises with Czerny, returns the Frenchman's salute with an equally crisp one of his own, then retakes his seat as the Legionnaire steps out of the office, ready to receive his next visitor / appointment.

By the time that he emerges from the office it's already dark and there's still no sign of Karel Janku. The conversation with Czerny has given Kessler some things to think about, so, his hands thrust deep into the pockets of the Soviet winter jacket that he's now wearing, he walks through the lightly falling snow to the plot of land that serves as the Mad Dogs' graveyard, where he stands, in the dark, looks at the various markers that indicate where fallen comrades lie, a reminder that some Mad Dogs will be staying in Poland for ever. John McCarthy, Sabine Riedel, Frank Benucci. Other graves are freshly dug. Henry Voight, Tomas Andropov, the guy Pike, who Kessler had barely spoken to. Helmut Meyer's the freshest of them all. And then there were the others whose bodies were never recovered for burial, like Luis Ortega. Kessler pulls his hands out of his pockets, comes to attention, and renders a salute to the fallen, his eyes lingering on a piece of ground that will forever be sacred to the Mad Dogs for a long moment before he turns away.

Other thoughts, too, are filling his mind, each clamouring to claim the ascendancy. what about the people that they were leaving behind? Not Czerny and Walsh, could look after themselves, had made their decisions for their own reasons. But what about the Polish Mad Dogs? For sure, the offer to head west had been made to each of them. But what would Kessler had done if the tables had been turned? Left his beloved Germany to sail away to Poland? No, he would have stayed. As they are staying. Was he running out on them? Tearing down what he had fought so hard to build?

Ja, Gdańsk was in a better place than it was. Or so he liked to think. After all, he had to think that. They had picked their side in the Civil War, and that side had won. Maybe he hadn't agreed with every decision that Nowak had made since she had taken power. But things were better. Weren't they? Even if Ivan was still at the door. Maybe what BND was planning might help with that. Maybe.

It's not just the Mad Dogs is it? Their civilian tenants have put their trust in them. Put their trust in him. How many times had he said to them that they were important, that they would be defended? Who was going to defend them now? An American, a Frenchman, and a handful of Poles. Was he letting the civilians down? And Tymoshenko? Kessler had spoken about building a strong Gdańsk, a united Gdansk. A free Gdańsk. And now he was fucking off home with the job half done. Was he letting them all down?

The German Captain shakes his head, as though that would clear it of the demons lurking within, looks skywards, feels snowflakes landing on his face. Still no sign of Janku. He hopes that's not a bad omen. But he has a mission to brief. Aleksandar will be coming with them tonight. Auttenberg and Kaczka will stay and help Fox and Fischer keep the perimeter secure. Kessler will speak to them before they go, make sure they know that's important work too.

Ja, hold the perimeter. Until we're gone.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:32, Wed 07 Feb.

"Hey..." Chris Walsh offers Ferro a nod when he tracks her down. He's just put some rounds down range getting the feel for the RPD light machine gun that now nestles against his right hip.

"You know I would go back...if I could..." he shrugs, finds a convenient piece of wall to lean against. It feels like an explanation is warranted. On why he's breaking up the band. "It's just...complicated. There's two guys each claiming to the President of the United States and some of the people that are on one side don't like the people on the other side very much."

He shakes his head, throws his hands up in the air. "Fuck, listen to me. I'm not on one fucking side or the other. I'm just a guy trying not to get killed. Bad enough only having to worry about an Ivan bullet but I gotta worry about an American one too. If I go back it's only a matter of time before I get recognized. And if that happens that's gonna be bad for me and the people around me. So better that I stay here."

"What about you? You going to Germany?" Another shrug. After all, Ferro's got to do what she thinks is right for her. So has Varis. He's not going to put any pressure on either of them. But fuck it if they wouldn't make a helluva team of freelancers in the Big G with him and Czerny.

"Hey." Ferro replies. She's just finished breaking down belts of KPV ammo and stowing it into the Krok's bins. Gunshots from Walsh's refresher shoot startled her but not enough for anyone to notice. "Yeah, I figured as much." she says when Chris explains that he would like to be able to go home... but couldn't. She lets him continue and vent a little.

"I don't really know." Ferro answers when its her to turn to reveal her future. Italy had to be an eventual destination but going to Germany first might make that more easier or more difficult. She spoke fluent German and had a good account with Kessler (and the German Army by extension) but still... Ferro then shakes her head and twists her mouth a little to emphasize her uncertainty. Like Chris, she had considered staying on in Gdansk. She felt like she had a good grasp of things here and could do well. At least for a while. "I need more time to think about it I guess." In a way she envied her friend. His home situation might be awful but at least he knew exactly where he stood and had something of a plan for his future. Ferro had no idea.

"This all feels weird." Ferro then says, making a partial smile at the weirdness of things coming to an end for the Mad Dogs. "It's like the old gang is breaking up or something. You know what I mean? That saying?" Like college friends going their own way after graduation or something. It all felt strangely like that.

Until the briefing, Jose works to prepare for the mission at hand, and generally just does chores and tasks that need doing prior to the unit heading out. Cleaning weapons, reloading magazines, loading equipment into the vehicles, etc.

Tosh goes out of his way to make sure that everything that he, and the Mad Dogs need, are packed and stowed away on their transposrts before they leave.  He goes over the big 14.5 gun on the vehicle to make sure it is ready to go and then waits until the shove off time of 2000 hrs.

Prep work is limited to just standard checks and routine kit maintenance. After all, the mission to collect the asset arriving from German isn't expected to be executed in the face of resistance. While inside the Krokodil, Lines acquaints himself with the turret's unfamiliar weaponry, which has been recently repaired. Despite being a seasoned machine gunner, the dual-gun system takes some getting used to, with its multiple wheel cranks, electrically activated triggers, and cumbersome sighting periscopes. One thing which is noticed by the Corporal, who's used to fighting on foot, is the vehicle's terrible situational awareness. Ferro has already lugged the weighty belts of 14.5mm ammunition to the vehicle and Tosh notices they're stored in ten separate fifty-round bins. Thus, sustained fire with the main gun is rather limited. The coaxial 7.62mm PKT however is more capable with its 500+ length of loaded belt. The other Mad Dogs finalize their personal responsibilities with no issues. White camouflaged is donned.

At 1950hrs the team assembles at the Krokodil and mounts up. The weather remains unchanged, as in, it's quite cold and there's a light snowfall. You depart without issue, crossing the Siennicka Bridge and entering the coastal region known as Port Island. The BTR-80 makes good time. It's noted that the only tracks in the snow are those being made by the Krok. And Ferro's route appears to leave more than enough space between you and Forest City, or any patrols they might have out. Nothing is seen or heard of interest. Soon there's a subtle taste of salt in the frigid air. By now, the landscape is flat snowy fields with islands of darker leafless brush and trees. Several old rusted and burned out vehicle wrecks are passed. The tree coverage then thickens and closes in on the path leading you towards the beach. If it weren't for the snow, it might've conjured up memories of driving through the eastern forests inhabited by Warmia Awakening. Scraggly branches claw at the sides of the APC as it slows and pushes onwards. It's become somewhat difficult to tell where you are.

The tree cover suddenly opens up. Kessler opens the commander's hatch, allowing cold air to rush in before his head emerges into the night. The Krok is cruising over snow covered sand and the Baltic Sea is within sight. It looks uninviting, black and without form. Plenty of ice flows have accumulated along the shoreline. The Krok continues on for a little more while the Hauptmann tries to look for landmarks or otherwise gauge the vehicle's location. The beach is wide, even for high tide. There's nearly 100m between the water to where the brush and treeline start. And it just goes on and on. Ferro is then ordered to stop.

There's a break in the treeline up ahead (on the right). Through it, Kessler can see some structures, buildings or ruins, in a cluster that's perhaps 300m by 300m. A couple of them are tall enough to be multistory. Furthermore, Michael estimates the team to arrived in the general area of the impending drop off/pickup. As the Hauptmann is considering scouting out the buildings, he notices the salted air is also carrying the scent of wood smoke. Meanwhile, Tosh peers through his gunner's sight (which has rudimentary night vision). Despite having a very narrow field of view, the British Corporal manages to pick out something further up the beach which draws his interest. It doesn't look like a natural feature and it is too large to be a single vehicle/wreck.

When Der Krok comes to a halt, Per emerges from one of its air-guard hatches and scans the surrounding area with his rifle optics, hoping that their combination of German-engineered telescopics and US-engineered SIMRAD night vision device will reveal any points of interesting that are concealed out there in the Baltic darkness...

It's still bitterly cold at night, and his right hand still hasn't fully recovered its grip strength (it might never), but the Danish ranger is in a much better place, both physically and psychologically, than he was on Christmas eve.

-
This message was last edited by the player at 19:45, Wed 21 Feb.

"Captain!  I got sumthin' 'bout 300 meters out.  Doesn't look like a vehicle.  Maybe a structure?"

Tosh goes back to his gunner's sight and keeps his attention on and around the 'something'.

Earlier...

Varis sits across from the patched round holes that a WW2-era MU anti-tank had punched through the BTR's thin side armor not so long ago. The African-American medic- Varis can't remember his name- had pulled fragments of the offending weapon's 14.5mm armor-piercing rounds from Varis' legs.

The Latvian is violating his own SOP, sitting buttoned up inside the APC. He's not sure if its the bitter cold, or his fuzzy memory of the IED blast that destroyed Lobo and gave Varis a pretty serious concussion. Maybe the head injury explains why he can't remember... Grant! There it is! Grant was what the unit's former medic was called. If we meet again, should I kick his ass, or give him a pass for patching me up? Hm. Varis decides to cross that bridge if he ever comes to it.

When the Viking opens one of the BTR's air-guard hatch, Varis bitches, "Really? It's cold as babushka's titties out there."

Might as well take a looksee himself, Varis decides. He stands, feels the tightness of the scattered scar tissue as he stretches his legs. He pulls his balaclava up over his nose and mouth, activates his Soviet-made NVGs and has a look around.

-
This message was last edited by a game editor at 18:30, Thu 22 Feb.

”Someone’s been around here.” Kessler said quietly. ”I can smell smoke.” He’d been on the verge of organising a squad to go and check out the buildings that he had spotted when Lines had alerted him to the possibility of another one further along the beach.

”We’ve got possible buildings at our twelve o’clock and three o’clock. * Dismounts out and set up a perimeter around the Krok. Report any sighting of movement. Use night vision if you have it.” The German announced, hauling himself up until his upper body was out of the hatch and flipped down his NVG’s so that he could get a better look at the surrounding terrain, starting with whatever it was that Lines had spotted.

* I think that’s right based on Lines seeing something straight ahead and Kessler seeing something on his right

"Hold up Captain. Let me get the Krok off the beach a little first. Good?" Ferro interjects quietly. Assuming no objection, Ferro will reverse a little and then cut in closer to the scrub while advancing again. The aim is to reposition the vehicle off the bare open beach and get into some concealment without breaking visual contact with the point of interest located at 12 o'clock. There is also a warning given beforehand to prevent any dismounts from getting run over. "Watch it back there, we are moving."

Once the Krok is repositioned Ferro will keep the engine running. She then leans over in her seat a little and taps Kessler's leg to get his attention since he's now up and partway out of his hatch. "Active IR is fixed and working now." she tells him. Referring to the vehicle's infrared spotlight that's available from the commander's seat.

”Good thinking.” Kessler replied to Ferro. Using the IR spotlight carried risk of course, but it was a calculated one. It would reveal the Krok’s position to anyone using NVG’s themselves but hopefully anyone eking out an existence on or just off the beach wouldn’t have access to anything like that.

Dropping back down into the vehicle he puts his eyes to the rubberised eyepieces on the vehicle’s TKN-3M day/night binocular periscope and announces to Ferro and Lines ”Going to IR now.” as he flicks on the IR spotlight and begins to rotate it across the landscape.

The Krokodil reverses, easing back into the dual channels that it had already pressed down into the snow and sand. Dismounts wait inside, with icy air flowing down into the passenger compartment as topside hatches are opened. The crash of the surf is audible. Ferro then advances the BTR-80 again. This time it rolls in closer to the fragmented line of scraggy beachside vegetation. It isn't great concealment but it's certainly better than the wide open beach. Kessler rises through his hatch before quickly lowering again upon being informed that the IR spotlight can be utilized. The APC then stops and the dismounting gets underway. The ground beneath the dispersing Mad Dogs is a mix of snow and sand.

The IR spotlight sync'd to Kessler's periscope activates. Although invisible to the naked eye, whatever the light is focused on becomes much easier to see when viewed through a NOD. The difference is most notable through the vehicle's awful gunner sight that Lines is peering into.

The structure at 12 o'clock (now about 11:45 with the Krok's repositioning if you want to be specific) appears to be a some kind of shelter. One half of it is a large lifeboat turned on its side, with the remaining half being an assembled heap of pallets, tires, a couple tarps, and whatever else bulky junk could be scavenged. There may even be part of an old lifeguard tower put to use. A stovepipe, overlooked before, vents the smoke which Kessler had first sensed. Objects outside of the shelter include a sled, buckets, and what might be some empty racks. It's hard to tell if there are any windows or closed flaps facing you. The same goes for the door. Most Mad Dogs estimate the range to be in the neighborhood of 200m away.

Michael swings the infrared beam emitted from the OU-3GA2M to the right, to the 2 o'clock position. Visibility on the shelter for everyone else is immediately reduced to varying degrees. The cluster of proper buildings is observed next. They look dilapidated, and in a few cases burned out but still standing. Those closest that are closer look like they might've been for beachgoers, while the larger buildings further out may have been apartments or dorms, possibly even an office building. No light or smoke is detected. Furthermore, none of the windows facing you appear to be boarded up or fitted with shutters to keep out the harsh wind. Range is 3-400m at the nearest point to the cluster of buildings.

Time to rendezvous is now 40 minutes.

It's really fucking cold.
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:13, Sat 24 Feb.

”Signs of habitation at twelve o’clock.” Kessler uses his radio to relay the results of the spotlight’s sweep to those Mad Dogs that lacked NVG’s or anyone that might not have seen it. ”Looks like a lifeboat turned on its side and turned into a shelter. Can’t see any movement but that doesn’t mean it isn’t occupied. Buildings at three o’clock look to be abandoned. Stand by”

The German releases the PTT switch on his radio, muses aloud to those still in the BTR. ”Why make your shelter a boat on the beach when there are buildings you can use instead?” It’s a largely rhetorical question, no answer really expected, at least not a profound one.

Either way, it’s made his mind up as to which of the two locations warrants a closer look first. He keys down on his radio again. ”Sergeant Babicevs, take Rodriguez, Walsh, and Ward and go check the lifeboat out. If they’re civilians try and make nice with them, see what they know, what they’ve seen. Hearts and minds Varis, hearts and minds. But be careful. We’ll give you overwatch from the Krok.”

“Sergeant Kolstrup, you’re primary overwatch. Cover the recon party as they approach the boat. If we need to extract them in a hurry we’ll use sniper fire and the coax. Ferro, be ready to move  on my word, Corporal Lines, stand by on the coax but don’t fire unless I give the order.”

“Sergeant Czerny, you and Alexander watch our six and the buildings at three o’clock. If you see any movement call out on the radio. Everyone clear?”

If everyone’s happy Kessler will swap his helmet for a Soviet Ushanka hat, pull his black and green checkered shemagh up over his nose and stick his head back out of the commander’s hatch so that he can watch the upturned boat while the recon team advance towards it and call out anything that they need to be aware of.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:26, Sat 24 Feb.

”Ya hear that Varis?” Chris Walsh chuckles from where he’s crouched down in the lee of the BTR, the lower part of his face hidden behind a scarf. He has no clue how many layers of clothing he’s wearing - he’s got over whites on top of a combat jacket on top of a fleece, woollen gloves that leave the tip of the finger that hovers close to - but not on - the trigger of his newly acquired RPD exposed to the elements. Even his stetson has been left back at barracks, its place taken by a black wool cap that’s pulled down over his ears, an East German Army helmet sitting semi awkwardly on top of it. And he’s still fucking cold.

”The man said it was a lifeboat…this could be it buddy. You might be about to meet the Polish version of Pamela.”

He takes a look in the general direction of the objective, but being one of those who doesn’t have any NVG’s, he can’t really see much. ”So what’s the plan?”

"Yes, sir," Per responds, fixing the lean-to in the reticle of his night vision-enhanced telescopic sight. The BTR's hull supports the long-gun's weight, providing a steady platform for observation and, if need be, precision shooting.

-

Varis chuckles. It's so dark and cold that, despite the sound of the crashing waves, try as he might, he can't imagine C.J. Parker in her natural habitat.

"Let's advance along the beach, just outside... what do you can hills of sand? Dunes, yes. Varis does not want to be seen from those buildings," he points to the dark, seemingly abandoned structures inland. "But if we need cover, the dunes will serve. Sound good?* Okay, let's go meet Pamski."

*Pause for feedback.

-

Feeling the cold come through the open air guard hatches, Jake took off his helmet once the vehicle stopped, quickly donned his olive drab balaclava, then put his helmet back on.

After, unassed the Soviet APC and assembled with the other dismounts outside.  As he unfolded the stock on his AK-74M, Walsh asked about the plan.  When Varis replied, Jake added, "Seems good to me." The sand dune shielded approach to the objective seemed good for several reasons.  It might shield them a bit from the wind.  Also, it was good concealment from observation and cover if needed.  Hell, sand was such a great substance for cover that the Army often gave you small bags to collect it, stack it, and share it with your foxhole friends.

"Everyone good for cold weather gear?" Jake asked, pulling his own black leather D3A gloves over the glove liners he'd worn in the BTR.  "In these temps and wind, you might have 20 minutes before frostbite, if you are lucky," he added.  And no one in this unit possessed an abundance of luck from what Ward could tell.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:25, Sat 24 Feb.

Tosh begins to position his guns where Kessler wanted them.  "Right sir.  On your call!"

Jose exits the Krok with a shiver, the biting, humid Baltic air seeming to pass right through his skin to gnaw directly on his bones. He looks toward the beach and the ... surf? He's never seen ice pushed up on a beach before and based on how cold it is outside, is comfortable with never seeing it again. He thanks his lucky stars for his thermal underwear and matching fatigues, and the overwhites thrown on top. A pair of woolen gloves doesn't feel enough to keep his hands warm, and rather than a scarf, Jose had simply grabbed some ripped linen back at the kaserne to wrap around his head and face. He looked a bit like a floral print mummy under his Kevlar helmet at the moment, but it was better than losing his nose.



Jose lets another shiver pass through him, then responds, his voice shaking just a bit with his chattering teeth. "Aye, tengo mucho frio. Why the fuck do people even live here, ehh? No amount of cold weather gear would keep us warm in this. Let's get moving." He smiles, then quickly closes his mouth as the cold air hits his teeth. Eager to get his blood pumping to warm him up, Jose starts moving along the dunes with the others.

Ferro leans forward and peers into her forward most facing vision block to observe the path that the dismounts are taking. If the Krok needs to advance quickly she wants to know where everyone is beforehand. Everyone that she doesn't want to run over that is. Recalling what she had seen when the IR spotlight was oriented on the shelter. The Krok could probably plow straight through that, she thinks. Not that it will probably come to that. Hopefully...

After the dismounts move beyond the visual limit of the vision block's awful NOD attachment, she glances through a side facing block. With no NOD available for that one she's basically looking at some dull white snow and then an endless blackness. But in her mind she is imagining and wondering about the vessel, whether it's out there in the dark waiting, maybe even watching the shore and the Krokodil. Or is it still out on the open water and still a ways away?

Four Mad Dogs separate from the idling BTR-80. They cut a path around the patches of scraggy brush, Varis in front. The LOS to the distant buildings becomes largely blocked by the forest in between. On the other hand, their white cammo clashes with the dark backdrop of trees when viewed from the beach. Wind and surf overwhelm most other sounds.

Back in the Krokodil, the remaining Mad Dogs observe their departing comrades and the surrounding landscape. Czerny and Aleksandar are oriented to cover the rear, but they remain mounted, in the event that the vehicle needs to move immediately.

The dismounted Mad Dogs cover the distance in no time and with no incidents. They stand a few meters from the large makeshift shelter. Now up close, they now see that there's also a flat bottom boat sitting in the sand (on the other side of the shelter). The racks, presumably for salting or drying fish, are empty. Crisscrossing footprints are imprinted throughout the snow and sand. Over the ambient noise, the Mad Dogs can hear occasional sounds from within the makeshift shelter.

Time to rendezvous is now 37 minutes.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:50, Fri 01 Mar.

"Make nice," Kessler said...

That's what commanders do- delegate. Now Varis is in charge. Calling "his" squad into a huddle, the Latvian speaks just loudly enough to be heard over the rolling surf. "Varis' Polish is for shit," he claims, exaggerating a bit. Then Varis delegates. "Walsh, you speak like native, no? Call to them. Say that we are soldiers, but friendly- just want to talk a bit." Trying to sound helpful, Varis speaks for the others, "We will cover you."

-
This message was last edited by a game editor at 04:33, Fri 01 Mar.

Walsh nods, calls out in Polish towards from where he is towards the shelter.

"Hey there! We are Gdansk soldiers! We come in peace. Just want to talk, maybe trade a bit?" Fuck knows what they have to trade but it seems like a good opening gambit.

Walsh's voice triggers a creaking sound from within the large makeshift shelter. A sliver of light, probably from a fire, vanishes from a hairline crack between the tarps. Wind and surf may conceal quieter sounds. A few more crashes of ice and waves follow before a male occupant answers the American. "Nie mam nic na handel." I have nothing to trade. The unseen speaker's response carries forced emotion as if worried that he won't be convincing enough.

The Polish occupant can be heard moving about the shelter a little. When he speaks again his tone is softer, "Odejdź w spokoju, W porządku?" Go away in peace, alright?

Jose listens as a response comes from the tent, and winces as it feels like his fingertips go numb from the cold. Despite the soft glow of light bathing the exterior and highlighting a few of the Mad Dogs, its clear that there will be no warmth for the fire team this evening.

He makes out what sounds like a fairly benign response from inside the tent. Figuring that probably isn't the group's missing contact, he turns to Ward and Varis. "Hey, weren't we supposed to pop a glowstick or some shit?"

Ferro eases back in her seat and hopelessly taps at the heater controls a little. She then peers into her front facing vision block and toggles her radio. "You guys need help out there?"

"We are just passing through friend.  We aren't looking to trade but we would like to get out of the wind for a few minutes... to warm up.  Maybe trade stories or news.  We've heard of heavy fighting in Gdansk," Jake said calmly and evenly in Polish, responding to the occupant of the tent.

"We've got some cigarette to share in exchange for your hospitality.  Also, I'm a medic if anyone needs something examined or tended to," Jake added.  He was regretting leaving his Wyborowa and Kashubian snuff behind at the compound, but there was nothing he could do about that now.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:04, Wed 06 Mar.

Varis shrugs. He doesn't remember Kessler saying anything about a glowstick, but maybe his mind had wandered...

While Ward engages the occupant of the lean-to in a dialogue, Varis eavesdrops, tries to make sense of the exchange. Ferro's static-laced voice breaks in over the team net.



"Er, not yet... stand by,"

The Latvian doesn't really have anything to report yet, except that the beach-dweller seems reluctant to welcome visitors. Varis can't really blame the man.

-
This message was last edited by a game editor at 01:44, Fri 08 Mar.

   "We are just passing through friend."

"Zatem kontynuuj przejazd!" the unseen and agitated man snaps. Then keep on passing through! There's some subtle sound of movement from inside the makeshift shelter a moment later. A fold in one of the tarps then moves slightly and it isn't difficult to imagine the occupant pulling at it a little to peer out, although nobody is actually seen. "Tak w ogóle, ilu z was tam jest?" How many of you are out there, anyway? Then before Ward or another Mad Dog can answer, the Pole quickly announces, "Jest nas tutaj jakieś... dziesięciu." There are like... ten, of us in here.

Some quiet and hard to understand speech follows. At first it seems as though the beach dweller is conversing with someone, but he may just be mumbling to himself. The only words which manage to escape the roar of the surf and flapping of tarps, is "curious" and "ghosts".

Ward then mentions cigarettes...

"Końskie gówno! Ty głupcze! Teraz wiem, że to pułapka!" Horse shit! You fool! Now I know it is a trap! The closed split between tarps, which serves as a door, shakes erratically, with it opening and closing a little each time, as the occupant roughly unties a cord that's keeping them together. As this is happening, something is mumbled about fish being stolen. A raggedly clothed and thickly bearded man then emerges out into the cold darkness. He almost fits the look a shipwrecked inhabitant on a deserted island. He glances sideways towards the vacant racks (which seem to be for drying or salting fish), before turning back to Ward (who is nearest). The unkempt beach dweller raises a fist. "Głupcy. Moje oczy nie kłamią. Ty..." Fools. My eyes do not lie. You... His clench hand lowers as his voice trails off. By now, one can see that there are sores and strange dots, from bites or a rash, on his exposed skin. The man stares at Jake strangely for a moment, before reaching out towards the American's face, or perhaps the night vision goggles fitted down over his eyes, taking a step forward. "Co jest... co ty..." What is... what do you... He then takes another step before lunging at the medic.
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:30, Sat 09 Mar.

"Kurwa!" Jake said as he stepped back, pivoted on a heel, and pushed the man away with both hands.  Both remained standing, with Jake rapidly backing off.

"Nie dotykaj mnie, dupku. Jeśli nie chcesz pomocy, odejdziemy," Jake said, as he continued to back away, keeping his hands up, and eyes on the pox ridden bastard who just attacked him.  Don't touch me asshole.  If you do not want help, then we will leave.

"I need to wash my hands," Jake said to the others, still keep them up and outstretch.  If you've never tried not touching your face because you might have picked up a disease... well... it's a lot harder than you think*.  Jake purposefully ignored his suddenly itchy nose.  "Cover me and keep this diseased idiot at a distance," he said as he made his way to the seashore, giving this mad fool’s encampment a wide berth.

Once at the ocean (technically a sea), Jake washed his hands carefully and throughly in the briny water.  He spent almost two full minutes, scrubbing his hands in the water, using the same technique he might use to prepare for surgery, sans soap and scrub brush.

*This might be the best world-wide inside joke I've ever embedded in a post.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:01, Sat 09 Mar.

Ward rinses off his hands and face in the icy surf. It's painful, but he's compelled, and afterward feels better. By the time he's finished the beach dweller has stopped yelling and withdrawn back into the makeshift shelter. The dismounted Mad Dogs then return to the Krokodil.

Time to rendezvous is now 30 minutes.

"Why you have to shove that old guy? He just wanted to give you big hug," Varis jokes with Ward.

Arriving back at Der Krok, the Latvian briefs Kessler, "Looks like old crazy guy, living alone in shack on beach. He didn't want to talk."

-

"For that, I'm going to explain cellular membrane composition, osmosis and osmotic pressure, and why salt water has antiseptic properties," Jake replied to Varis.  He spoke on the topic all the way back to the Krok.

"There will be a test when we get back," he added, while warming up in the vehicle.

Back in the BTR, Jake took off his gloves, which were a bit damp inside after scrubbing his hands in the ocean (technically a sea.. and in an alternate universe.. a NATO lake).  He crossed his arms and held his hands under his armpits, hoping to hold frostbite at bay.

"If I can't get these delicate fingers warmed up quickly, we're going to need to find a large furry animal to kill and cut open, so I can shove them in those guts.." Ward said, making a very obtuse Empire Strikes Back reference...
This message was last edited by the player at 01:00, Thu 14 Mar.

In reply to Jake Ward (msg # 76):

Jose clambers back into the BTR along with the others, and keeps his eyes on Ward. "Aye, that guy looked pretty messed up." A deep memory suddenly rises unbidden from the depths of Jose's subconscious. 'Heal the sick, raise the dead, cleans those who have leprosy, drive out demons.' No doubt the memory stems from some long forgotten sermon in Sunday School from when Jose was very young. "Maybe some kind of leprosy camp on the beach? Lucky they aren't freezing to death out here in this. That was good of you to offer to help though."

When Ward makes the oblique reference to Star Wars, Jose picks up on it and gives a light chuckle while shaking his head. "It's good that you're a nerd so that you know what to do to get leprosy off your hands." With that, he gives a heavy guffaw and slaps Ward on the back to show that he's only joking around. After he's done laughing, he looks around at the others. "So, what do we do now? How do we find this contact?"

Ferro glances at the luminous hands on the watch she inherited from Riedel. She then turns in her seat to face the passenger compartment. "Twenty five, thirty minute wait. And then you can be the beacon." Straining, she reaches back towards him with a length of paracord from her webbing for him to take. "When it's time stand up on the vehicle. Tie one end of that cord the IR glowstick, crack it, and then spin it in a wide arc while facing the sea." She knew that's how they often did it with helicopters so it probably wasn't any different now. "I need to cord back."

Ferro then shuts down the Krokodil's engine. She'll start it up again in about fifteen or twenty minutes for the heater. Once there is a return signal or sign of their pickup, Ferro will drive closer to the surf.

2345hrs, January 20th, 2001
Stogi Beach, NE of Gdansk
Light Flurries, -7^oC

The next half hour is uneventful, spent in the Krokodil as scattered snowflakes blew and swirled across the beach. Cautious watch on the strange inhabitant, or rather his shelter, further down the stretch, reveals nothing alarming. It's unpleasantly cold. Eventually, Ferro restarts the engine and Rodriguez climbs up to stand on the hull of the vehicle. He cracks the IR glowstick, which reveals no light visible to the naked eye, and begins swinging it wide through the air as a beacon. This is done for a couple minutes, with the American listening to the crash of the surf and staring out at the seemingly empty sea. If there's a boat out there it isn't close to shore or running any external lights.

"They're here." Kessler, motioning from where he's propped himself up through the commander's hatch to help observe. An inflatable boat has just emerged from the surf and partway up onto the ice and sand. There are three figures but only one climbs out. The individual making landfall pauses to quickly reach back into the craft to retrieve a pack, and toss back what might've been a life jacket. In mere seconds it's over. He's rushing inland, with the inflatable boat reversing and disappearing back into the concealing darkness and choppy waves.

A moment then follows before the visitor works his way up through the semi-protective dunes and scrub to the beacon (atop the waiting BTR-80).

"Swordfish."

"Mountain."

Even before seeing the arrival up close, Kessler can tell just from the spoken password & challenge, that the visitor is a fellow German. The amphibious operative is brought aboard and Ferro kicks the vehicle into motion. It spins around in the sand, forming deep ruts, and then begins cruising back along the beach. Little of anything is said as the Krok turns into a forested road (now not much more than an overgrown path) and heads inland. The return trip to the riverside compound is uneventful. Arrival is just shortly after midnight. It's now January 21st, 2001.

Upon debussing and entering the athletic club, Karel Janku is found waiting. Most everyone else is asleep, apart from the usual complement or lookouts and sentries. It's quiet, but warm and illuminated inside. Shaking off the cold, the group enters the small cafeteria. Karel, the BND's Czech operative, sits next to Kessler and the newly arrived German. They've never met but they seem to be well aware who the other is. Janku begins by outlining what might be a complication to the situation south of Gdansk. "There has been large troop movements of Soviet forces. Probability is high that they are elements of 42nd Guard Motorized Rifle Division, units previously deployed west to help contain US 11th Corps pocket." The Mad Dogs have tangled with this unit before so that's nothing new. What is a relevant development is that the division, deployed with half of its forces elsewhere, may now be consolidating. Unfortunately, Karel is unable to provide a reason. Possibilities include the 42nd GMRD may be finally dealing with the troublesome (NATO allied) Polish Home Army/Green Berets who're holding out in the Osiek area, an internal mutiny has occurred, upcoming renewed action against Gdansk, and many others. But it almost certainly means the upcoming Malbork AO will be more challenging. Highlighting this, Janku announces a recent setback for "Olympic", "We sent a reliable asset out to gather information but he has disappeared." Pausing, the Czech defector also mentions something else that he's learned. "There is severe food rationing in Malbork right now. May be relevant."

Msg #17 in the INTEL thread will provide last know information on the 42nd GMRD.

Kessler is sure that he’s seen the new arrival before somewhere, maybe around Kiel last summer, but he can’t put a name to the face until introductions are done in that typically German manner where only surnames are used, the Hauptmann extended a hand with a brief ”Kessler’ which is returned with an equally short ‘Schenker.’.

Janku evidently knows him as well as they all gather in the cafeteria area, where the main objective, at least for the moment, is to try and get warm again as the Czech mentions the current Soviet troop movements. ”Forty Second Guards” he chips in when it’s mentioned. ”That’s Meretskov’s unit. By all accounts he’s a cruel bastard.”

There’s another nod at mention of food rationing. ”I remember Andropov talking about food shortages. I think he called it the Blight. Something to do with the crops failing further east. I think.” The news of the missing asset causes him to frown. ”How much does your asset know? About plans and such like?” It’s harsh but it has to be asked.

When that’s dealt with Kessler turns to the new arrival. ”OK, Herr Schenker, perhaps you can bring us up to speed on what exactly it is that Kiel needs us to do?”

While the meeting is going on, Tosh keeps watch on the shoreline and the boat on the beach the recon team scouted out.

The newcomer is dressed in utilitarian civilian winter clothing- dark, drab colors. Slung over his shoulder is an unusual-looking 5.45mm AK, its wire stock folded alongside the receiver. He's clean-shaven, hair close-cropped- looks to be somewhere in his thirties. His bulky cold/wet weather clothing can't conceal his athletic build.

"The mission has two parts," he begins, grammar proper, albeit basic, his accent markedly thicker than Kessler's.

"First, we are to stop a DIA team from exploding a nuclear bomb in Marienburg... Malbork," he corrects, before continuing. "Second, we are to neutralize the Soviet Front commander's own nuclear arsenal. In both tasks, we are authorized to use whatever means necessary."

-
This message was last edited by the player at 00:26, Tue 26 Mar.

Ferro ditches her outer wear before sliding into a spot on the cafeteria's bench seating. When Kessler mentions what Andropov had told them she remembers and nods. "Right, in Kaliningrad. Some kind of fungus or plant disease. Someone else mentioned it too here in Gdansk, worried about traders bringing it here."

Then, when their visitor mentions the DIA, Ferro glances across the table at Chris. It lasts only for a second or two and she doesn't say anything. Instead, her minds mulls over their mission to ensure Malbork isn't nuked. It was a curious and unexpected development. Maybe somebody in Kiel felt vaporizing thousands of Poles over a handful of Soviet Generals just wasn't worth it. Sure enough there was plenty of that happening a couple years ago. Those Polish cavalry based there and who the Mad Dogs ran into a few times would probably appreciate it too. "Bajek and Netzel's cavalry might be of some use on this." Ferro suggests with a glance given in Kessler's direction. She then looks at the other German. "I'm Ferro."
This message was last edited by the player at 23:29, Tue 26 Mar.

Stop Americans from nuking Russians. That was a twist that Kessler hadn’t expected. Thinking about it he can see the rationale behind it though, for where were the Soviets likely to retaliate? Against the American mainland? No. The only nukes that local commanders were likely to have access to were tactical ones, with a relatively short range.

So retaliation is going to be directed at one of two places. The American enclave on the Baltic coast which, probably not coincidentally had declared for the other faction in the American Civil War. Or German territory. While he actually thought that DIA might be hoping for the former outcome, the Amis would no doubt have no qualms about trading Kiel or Bremerhaven or Hamburg for Malbork.

A passing thought goes through his mind, that Halina Nowak might also not be overly disappointed if her principal local rival was destroyed. So not a word about this can get back to Danzig’s new leadership. He’d probably have to speak to his American contingent as well, see how they felt about stopping some of their countrymen by whatever means necessary. Which pretty clearly means killing them if that’s what it takes.

He gives a nod of his head when Ferro mentions the Polish cavalry that they’d had dealing with in the past. ”Good idea.” he murmured quietly. The Americans were likely to be well armed, well equipped, perhaps with allies of their own and the Mad Dogs were still little more than an over strength squad.

Sitting back and cradling a mug of ersatz coffee in his hands, he looks at Schenker and Janku. ”What else do you know? Do you have any intelligence on this DIA team? Numbers? Where they might have started from, their possible location now? Are they alone or do they have any local allies? Partisans, Home Army, anything like that? What intel does BND have on Malbork? Do you have any assets in the City? Do we know where Ivan's weapons are stored?” There was probably more. Much more. But that would do to start. Others would maybe chip in with their own questions.

Walsh doesn’t say a word when Ferro looks across the table at him, their eyes meeting for just long enough for him to give her a look that he hopes conveys that the unspoken message has been received loud and clear.

DIA. Maybe if this works out according to plan he might have some company on their kill list. Maybe. Fuck. The CIA operative needs a minute to actually process the idea of going head to head with the DIA.

Tosh raises his hand to be recognized, "You mean the Yanks still have an operable nuke layin' round?  Ain't the world fucked 'nuff the way it is now?"
This message was last edited by the player at 17:04, Wed 27 Mar.

"But be prepared for the needs of the mission to change..." rings in Jose's head as the new arrival lays out the plan. Olympic had first said it was just to get this guy into Malbork, and now, stopping nukes? Fucking spooks... Jose recognizes a suicide mission when he hears one. He's pissed.

"Okay so, let me get this straight. We're to get you down to Malbork. Stop some DIA assholes from setting off a nuke. Then also locate and take out the Soviets' nukes as well? Ain't that some shit." Jose has questions, and angles them at the new arrival. "First, you'll be with us the entire time?" If the Mad Dogs are putting their survival on the line, then this puta better be doing the same. "Second, are we going to get any training on how to dismantle a nuke? Say we actually find them, how are we supposed to neutralize them?" Jose drops same the word the spy used when referring to stopping the nukes, only injecting it with acidic levels of sarcasm. "Last, why are we doing this? If we're putting our lives on the line, we deserve some more answers about that. Cause as far as I'm concerned, Malbork is full of Soviet assholes. A nuke might be the best thing for 'em."

Fuckin' spooks...

Jake sat and listened, figuring now was a great time to STFU.  There were so many questions in his mind, that asking them all would be useless at this point without at least some answers to what the other, more established Mad Dogs had already asked.  So he tried to do the hardest thing in any conversation or meeting - LISTEN with an open mind...

Varis frowns. Jose'd just stolen his questions- no use in repeating them. The Latvian looks pointedly at the new German, daring him not to answer.

-

Kessler looks over at Rodriguez. The American doesn’t seem to be making any particular effort to hide how he’s feeling given the increasing levels of sarcasm in his questions. The German can’t speak for Schenker, can’t answer the first two. But he can take the last one.

”Ok Jose, let’s assume the Amis succeed in nuking Malbork and incinerating everyone there. Everyone. So that’s the local people as well as the Ivans. Let’s assume they succeed. And let’s assume that it’s a ground burst. And maybe the winds are blowing north that day so the fallout ends up here, in Gdansk.” Or Germany is left unsaid.

“And then let’s assume that Ivan still has a couple of tactical nukes of their own and decide to retaliate. Do you think they’re going to hit Washington or Los Angeles? No. But they might decide to strike Hamburg or Kiel. Or maybe they might go for a military target. Like the American enclave on the Baltic. The one that’s sided with the other faction in your new civil war.” Kessler’s own tone is calm, reasoned, no emotion shown. He’ll let Rodriguez draw his own conclusions as to whether or not that might be what the DIA want, to kill thousands of Americans because they’ve chosen the ‘wrong’ side in America's internal conflict.

“Or maybe they’ll nuke Gdansk. You know that Polish woman and her kid that you’ve been getting to know? Put your life on the line for them Jose, and everyone else that you know in the City. Because if the Americans succeed in this there’s probably going to be a lot of dead people. Russians for sure, but maybe Americans too, Germans, Poles.”

Kessler shrugs. ”Maybe they’ll nuke us all.” His eyes then turn to Schenker, for not only Rodriguez is waiting for him to speak.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:27, Thu 28 Mar.

Schenker gives Rodriguez an appraising look. When he replies, he speaks slowly, as if weighing every word before it crosses his lips.

"Hauptman Kessler is correct. Our government has no interest in restarting zee nuclear vor."

"I am not a specialist, but I have been briefed on how to remove ze trigger from a Soviet nuclear artillery shell. However, if Baltic Front's nuclear weapon is a rocket, vee vill have to destroy zee launcher.

"Our most recent intelligence suggests that Malbork is not vell defended. Zee Soviet garrison is mostly made up of support troops and vocking vounded, not combat soldiers. Vee also have reason to believe zat zee Polish troops zer are not particularly loyal to Moscow, or Lublin. I believe zat your own sources have confirmed zis?"

"As for zee DIA team's nuclear backpack bomb, if vee cannot buy it from zem, vee vill have to take it. I have in my sings a manual vis instructions for disarming it."


OOC: My, isn't Schenker's accent heavy? Don't worry- I probably won't continue writing his dialogue phonetically.

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This message was last edited by the player at 22:46, Thu 28 Mar.

"The kind of people the DIA would give a nuclear backpack to are almost certainly not the kind of people who would sell it," Jake said, deciding to move off the sidelines and into the discussion.

"I suspect we will be better off trying to persuade them not to use it, by outlining the reciprocal threat of a Soviet strike on the targets that Hauptmann Kessler mentioned," the new team medic nodded to Kessler.  He was grateful the German officer had framed it in the context of the horrible casualties that any nuclear detonation would result in.  Disarming both of these groups would save myriad lives on every side of the conflict.

"It's highly likely that the DIA team is not the type to just go home empty handed either.  The DIA obviously wants the destruction of the Soviet command at Malbork.  The weapon system is a method to meet those goals.  If we can offer them another, non-nuclear method to accomplish that task, that might help make the case for them not use a nuclear weapon.  Reasonable people wouldn't seek to open up that Pandora's box again, unless there was no other option," Ward added.

"Presuming we can find them before the reach Malbork..."
This message was last edited by the player at 20:25, Thu 28 Mar.

"Would the DIA give a nuclear bomb bomb to a group of reasonable people?" Schenker asks rhetorically. "But your point is well-taken, Mister... Ward. Thank you. As you said, first we must find them. For that, I have some information about the route they planned to take. Once we find them, if they can be reasoned with, good. If not, we will neutralize them." He delivers this last line in an eerily dispassionate, matter-of-fact tone.

-

"I'm forced to presume yes. Because to presume no would also force me to grapple another question.  Would the BND give orders to neutralize NATO allies; no.. Jake stopped briefly then continued.

"United States allies... perhaps even men and women who crossed the frontier to fight side-by-side with Germans against the Soviets, while other NATO allies dallied and debated options during they early days of the war...  Would the BND give that order to a group of reasonable people?  Or even one person..."
This message was last edited by the player at 23:29, Thu 28 Mar.

Lines looks a little puzzled by Schenker's last comment.  "Excuse me mate.  You actually think these guys can be negotiated with?  I mean, they got a nuke right?  What makes you think these DIA guys are goin' to just give it up?  What'ya got to trade 'em for it?  A sense of duty to protect innocent people?  Money?  Gold?  I may not be one of those fancy spooks, no offense Chris or, an Intel guy but, you're last option to neutralize, disarm and then, dispose might be the way to go.  I don't see people who get their hands on a fookin' nuke just not goin' through with their mission!"

”None taken Tosh.” Walsh replies to Lines comment about not intending offence with a trademark grin before turning to Jake Ward, his face altogether more serious. For some reason he wishes he wasn’t wearing his Stetson right now, and after a moment’s thought takes it off before speaking to the guy who’s not only a fellow countryman but a fellow Pennsylvanian.

”Jake…I hear what you’re saying buddy. But - and I really don’t want to say this - but DIA have not only been killing American allies but they’ve been killing other Americans. For months. Maybe years."

You know there’s two Governments back home yeah? Or at least two groups claiming to be the Government. You got the Joint Chiefs in Colorado and the President in Omaha. Now some people say nobody voted for the President. I dunno man, I dunno. But for me, yeah, we’re all Americans. Especially those of us overseas.”

“But there’s some people in DIA that don’t see it that way. They’ve got these teams. They call then Orion. Like the Hunter, from Greek myth. That’s what they do. They hunt. Before I came to Gdansk  me and another CIA operator were embedded with some Polish partisans. We set up a meet, with another group of Poles. Plan was we were going to join forces. Only when we got to the meeting point we were ambushed. The other group had sold us out. Not to the Russians. To the DIA. They killed my partner and most of the Poles. Me and one guy got away. He died on the way here.”

He stands up, fixes his eyes on the wall. He’s not talking to Ward specifically any more. He’s just talking, letting the jumbled thoughts that are competing for the ascendancy in his head come to the surface and spill out. . ”Let’s not talk about fucking neutralising anyone eh? Let’s  call it like it is. If they wont hand over the nuke we’re supposed to kill them.” He might have quoted Corporal Hicks but that doesn’t seem appropriate right now. It’s the only way to be sure.

”I’m pretty sure that’s what our new friend is going to tell Michael later. Because if we don’t who the fuck knows what genie gets out of the bottle. Like the man says, maybe Ivan nukes our guys on the coast. That’s thousands of Americans. And why? Why the fuck do the DIA want to nuke fucking Malbork? Is that fucking important to national security?”

“Maybe this DIA crew aren’t like Orion. I know people in the DIA." Wouldn't it be a fucking thing to run into Lizzie Kane again. Even in these circumstances. "Some of them…most of them…are good people. Same as us, trying to do the best that they can. Maybe we’ll get lucky and these guys will listen to reason.” He turns back to Ward. ”I really really hope that you’re right Jake, and that they’re reasonable people. But if they’re not, well, we’ll all have to look ourselves in the mirror afterwards. One way or the other.”

He lthen turns to Schenker. ”Like Tosh said, I’d also like to know what you’ve brought with you that you think that you can trade for a nuke.” There's no warmth in his voice when he speaks. Nothing personal, he's just finding it hard not to shoot the messenger that has dropped this problem in their laps like a live fucking hand grenade.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:26, Fri 29 Mar.

Schenker's face is impassive as he listens to Ward's history lecture. When the Englishmen speaks next, the frogman's expression briefly belies befuddlement before returning to neutral. Then another American, CIA apparently, speaks up, seemingly in Max's defense, at least initially. The newcomer isn't really sure where he put a foot wrong, but the mood in the room seems to have soured considerably since he disclosed his mission- what was to be their mission as well.

He makes eye contact with Kessler briefly, before answering the CIA man's question.

"Gold," he replies, flatly. Schenker then pauses for a beat, as if bracing for a punch or derisive laughter.

"I don't expect that they will accept the offer, but my instructions are to resort to violence if all else fails. I apologize if I did not make that clear earlier."

Then he poses a question to the whole group, "But I must ask you this: if reasoning with them fails, and bribery fails, what would you suggest then, if not violence?"

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This message was last edited by the player at 04:45, Fri 29 Mar.

Tosh turns back to Schencker, "We got a chain o' command, I'm sure like you do mate.  We follow our orders!

What good would an attack like that be now, eh?  Don't they know about the POW camp?  Maybe killin' their allies over an airbase?  I would try to play the POW angle on the DIA if anything."

OOC: Going by the Intel from the OOC post
This message was last edited by a game editor at 04:45, Fri 29 Mar.

"Maybe we should switch gears and come back to this part later." Ferro suggests. "How about we take a step back and narrow down the intercept point, which will come before any interaction with the target. Because that will also determine how an interaction can go down." Loud or quiet she means. Ferro then outlines what looks like several possible steps to choose from:

1) On the river (or in Nowe)
2) Overland move towards southern Malbork
2.5) Overland move towards southern Malbork at the checkpoint (narrowed down #2)
3) At the target's safehouse
4) At the location of the target deploying the weapon

"Personally, I think we should have a primary and a backup in case they are a no-show because our primary was incorrect."

"The first ones are definitely the safest for us but also puts us on a much tighter clock to beat." Ferro adds. It would be easier to deal with the DIA outside of any interference from the Malbork garrison for example. "But also more difficult for us to be in the right area." On the other hand. "The options get progressively more difficult to pull off." ...and survive.

Ferro turns her attention to Schenker and asks "Do you have something in mind already?"

"I am still unsure of a primary but I think a secondary should be hitting their safehouse right in Malbork. For a primary I would think in Nowe (#1) or we try our luck and find them somewhere between their river drop point and the southern entrance (#2)."

In reply to Michael Kessler (msg # 90):

Jose winces when Kessler mentions the possible outcomes; he clearly hadn't thought through all of the ramifications of detonating a nuke in Malbork before lighting off on the spook. The captain was right, of course, the worst case scenarios could be as dire as anything the American could think up. Jose's emotions, once again, had gotten the better of him. Instead of immediately launching another round of aggressive questions at the newcomer, Jose instead sits back, placated at least for now. He tries to look for the positives...maybe he could use the story of saving millions to get laid if he ever makes it back to the US.

”Intercepting the Americans on the west side of the river if we can sounds like the best option.” Kessler opines when Ferro switches the conversation in the direction of actual mission planning. ”I think there’s less chance of any other parties interfering. Of course we still need to cross the river to deal with the second part of the mission but that might also give us a window to hand the American bomb over to the BND here in Danzig.”
He looks over at Ferro, adds. ”I don’t really want to cart something like that around any longer than we have to.”

“Problem is we don’t know where they’re going to cross. Probably Nowe, could be Grudziadz. The German shrugs ”They’re apparently masquerading as traders and a Doctor. Traders are probably commonplace, Doctors not so much. Maybe we can use some of the BND’s gold to see if it loosens tongues, see if anyone remembers hearing about a Doctor passing through recently.”

“What does everyone else think? Per, Varis, neither of you have said anything. What’s your thoughts?”

Per's been content to listen, study the newcomer, mull over the ethical and logistical in's and outs of the mission in silence. The Dane accepts Kessler's direct invitation, shares his thoughts on the Mad Dogs' next course of action, "I see the value in catching the DIA team before it reaches Malbork, but a lot of things- things that we can't control- will have to line up just right for that to happen. If we miss them somehow, by the time we catch up, it may be too late. Since we know the location of their safehouse in the city, I think maybe we should head straight there. We can stake it out, and start gathering intel on the Soviet's nuclear arsenal while we wait for the DIA team's arrival. In other words, I'd prefer setting an ambush to a search or chase."

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This message was last edited by the player at 19:48, Thu 04 Apr.

Jose leans back in after hearing Per's response. "Couldn't we do both, eh? See if we can catch them on the west side of the river, then if that fails, move to the safehouse in Malbork? The Krok is amphibious, yeah? So we wouldn't be limited to finding a boat or transportation once we get east of the river. No bridge needed either." He considers for a moment further. "I don't think we're going to just stumble across them in the field. And trying to catch them at a checkpoint feels risky - not only could they use a different entrance to the city, but we'd be exposing ourselves a lot too." Jose motions to his own dark skin; not exactly a common amount of melanin on display in central Poland.

Lines looks to Jose, "I kinda had the same thought process Mate but, I think keeping ahead of 'em instead of behind 'em, might be in our best interest here.  Sure, we can prolly track 'em but, we lose 'em, we're fooked!  And, can we count that the krok will still be amphibious after all its been through?  I mean reliably to cross if we really need to use it without drowning?"