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.