"But the nomads were the terror of all those whom the soil or the advantages of the market had induced to build towns. Agriculture therefore was a religious injunction, because of the perils of the state from nomadism."

- Ralph Waldo Emerson

October 11th, 2000
1400 hrs.
45 F
scattered clouds

As the team at the hide site watches anxiously, Mariusz slings his rifle and, in spite of the gunshot, continues to walk towards the farm complex with arms outstretched.

Hoping that the farm isn't under new management, Mariusz draws nearer. Two large dogs round the cattle shed and pelt towards him. His heart begins to race, slowing a few beats only when he recognizes the ugly curs. The dogs pull up short, alternating between barking and snarling. After a few nervous seconds, the dogs stop their aggressive posturing, seeming to recognize him. They nose up to him sniffing furiously before rearing up on their hind legs, paws on his chest, licking at his face. He's enjoying the reunion of sorts when he hears the voice of the farmer's wife. Looking up he sees a middle aged woman in a long skirt wielding a Moisin Nagant carbine with fixed bayonet. Her weatherbeaten face is engraved with suspicion before a glimmer of recognition softens her expression.

"Mari, is that you?"

The farmer's wife drags the dogs off of Mariusz and embraces him.

"My, look at you! I think you've grown! What are you doing here? Where's the padre? Quick, come inside."

She leads Mariusz past the cow sheds towards the farm house.

As Mariusz and the woman dissapear from view, the party at the hide site is left waiting and wondering at what exactly is going on. They are debating what to do when Minh arrives with the second wave in the boats. The second lift piles out and unloads their supplies. After a quick break to stretch their legs, Minh and Jason head back to the tug for the final run.

Mariusz is spotted returning across the field soon thereafter, dogs trotting alongside. When he closes to within shouting distance, he calls out,

"Come on out! It's safe. The family say that we can stay in the cattle sheds. Come on."

Leaving a couple of people behind to await the third load, the party hefts their packs and begins to walk, heavily laden, towards their new lodgings.

When the third and final lift arrives two hours later, they unload and hide the boats before heading off after the others with the balance of the gear.

The entire party is reunited in the cattle sheds. At one time, the long, low buildings were home to hundreds of milk cows. Now, only a few dozen remain. A majority of the stalls are empty. Milking machines, like derelict robotic guards, stand watch every several meters down the center of the passageway between the long rows of stalls on either side.

The farmer arrives, carbine slung over his shoulder, with a young, unarmed black man in tow. The young man wears a course, gray, wool outfit, with a large red P stencilled on the back. The farmer introduces himself in Polish.

"I am Andrzej Bak. You all are welcome to stay here for the evening. Friends of Brother Switek..." he crosses himself,  "...are friends of ours. I'm afraid the accomodations are not much, but the farmhouse is quite full at the moment. We have several refugees from the city living with us now, and our helper here, as well. The women are preparing food for you and we will bring blankets too. If you build a fire in here, please do be careful. And watch out for the mouser. He's a testy puss, that one."

The young man then introduces himself, speaking in American English,

"I'm Latrell Watkins. I guess I, uh, kind of work here now."

Actions?
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:52, Fri 26 Sept 2008.

Ondar spent the first half of the odyssey up the tributary in silence.  The morning's activities had left him emotionally spent. He had not said three words since speaking with Adam and Piotrowski earlier, except to confirm Milk's suspicions about the hardwired landlines.  His R-143 would only be useful for picking up sporadic patrol traffic, but that was still useful intel and perhaps justified the contraption's thirteen kilograms of mass.  He had offered to personally take on some of the load and wound up with a disposable rocket launcher and a few fragmentation grenades rounding out his ruck.

The deserter eyed Milk a few times during the trip, but the American was preoccupied with monitoring the radio and maintaining situational awareness.  He examined each occupant in turn, perhaps dwelling longer than appropriate on the Vietnamese interrogator/boatswain.  He considered her an enigma, and appreciated the irony of that sentiment.  It would take time to earn their trust.  Much had been revealed already, and betrayal had seemed the order of the day for far too long.

About mid-journey he swapped out his VDV patrol hat for an olive drab synthetic fiber watch cap.  The base temperature was cool enough, but bouncing around in a fast moving boat out on the water made it seem even colder.  He would have been content to hike all the way to the rendezvous point, but certainly was not going to complain about having been offered a ride.

He began to ceremoniously remove pins, flags and other distinguishing insignia from his uniform, which he then wrapped in a velvet coin bag and stowed in a breast pocket.  He considered throwing them overboard in order to mark a clean and distinct break from his former associations, but thought twice of it since such accouterments might yet come in handy on the road ahead.

Ondar privately chided himself for his uncharacteristically rash behavior over the last several days.  The revelation (and nature) of his beautiful Irena's demise had sent him right up to the edge of the abyss and he had embraced the waiting darkness.  He had acted without a plan, let alone contingencies.

Infiltrating General Sergetov's headquarters had been easy enough.  It was precisely the kind of action he had trained for all his life.  Dispatching his sentries and aides had come as second nature.  And the hours spent torturing the General were seemingly endless and without effort.  He removed from inside his field jacket a resealable plastic sandwich bag stuffed with what, to a casual observer, would appear to be giblets of some sort.  He slid open the Ziploc seal, peered into the bag and beheld before him Sergetov's eyes, ears, tongue and testicles bathed in blood still warm enough to generate visible condensation in the cold riverine air.

He momentarily questioned the tactical wisdom of having left the General alive, but considered that a blind and mutilated deaf-mute would be in no condition to aid in the identification or pursuit of his antagonist. And death at that point would have been a sweet and most undeserved mercy.  No, that had required enormous restraint and self control.  Indeed, his actions that night were most deliberate and methodical.  Ondar still had his edge.  He left the bag unsealed and tossed it over his shoulder into the river.  There was a soft plop as the package broke the surface, quickly began to fill with water and eventually sank.

A few minutes passed and he shifted his position in order to address the Green Beret.

"I watch you long time, Milk.  Respect you as soldier.  But respect easy. Trust hard.  Someday hope I earn both."

The second half of the trip proved as silent as the first.  At journey's end, arriving at the farmhouse, Ondar queries the Hauptmann.

"Unpack or stand guard?"
This message was last edited by the player at 07:44, Fri 26 Sept 2008.

Bayer waits for a translation and then asks Mariusz, Griet, or Dawid to reply for him, "Inform him of our appreciation and gratitude. The barn will do very well. Ask him... I'd like to know if they get any patrols around here. And... if anyone here is expected to be leaving in the near future?"

Bayer nods a Ondar and says, "Rest for now. We will get a sentry detail set up shortly."

Addressing those not involved with the conversation (with the farmer) he says, "You may want to think about getting some sleep. This isn't the end of the road and some of you will be moving out soon."
This message was last edited by the player at 08:58, Fri 26 Sept 2008.

Mariusz listened to Bayer's request and passed it on to his old friend, "My new Boss wants to know if there are any Authority patrols that come out here or if anyone on the farm plans to leave shortly?"

Griet made sure that everything was packed neatly and efficiently away and then got some rest until she was called for any duty.

After Mariusz makes friendly contact with the owner's of the farmhouse, he happily makes his way with the other members of the scout team to meet the owner's.  He happily drops his gear in the barn and finds a place to sit and rest and get some rest before pulling out again.  "You need me for anything Konrad?"

Unaware of the content of Ondar's heart-to-heart with Adam, Milk's response is cautious and measured.

"You have my respect as a soldier. Trust, like you said, aint so easy. Someday, maybe. So far it looks like you're tellin' the truth. One thing I been curious about, though: how'd your people- the KGB or GRU or whatever- how'd they know RESET was with me, on the tug?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:28, Fri 26 Sept 2008.

Farmer Bak responds, maintaining eye contact with Konrad although speaking through Mariusz,

"A patrol stops by every couple of days just to check and make sure everything is alright out here. We don't go into town but once or twice a month. It's been a few weeks, though, so soon, perhaps."

Once they get to the farm Sam will speak..

"I will take first watch- 6 to 8 hours is about how far I can go. I'll set up an OP LP with my rifle and wait for friends. Anyone have a problem with this? Well then, I will be on my way..."


Sam will move away from the farm looking for a high avenue into the farm and will move away 100m to set up watch....
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:54, Sun 28 Sept 2008.

Bayer nods to the man (despite not understanding) as a sign of thanks. Once translated he says, "Tell him we won't be staying here long. And it would be appreciated if those who also lived here knew as little of us as possible. I'd also like to be informed if anyone is going to be leaving... for the protection of everyone." He then excuses himself to leave Mariusz to enjoy the company of his friends.

OOC - McCoy, did you mean - watch from 0600-0800 or watch for 6-8 hours straight?

"Very well McCoy." Bayer says. Then shakes his head, "No Robert. Rest up or do what you wish. We'll be sorting out our move on the objective soon. I'll let you know what needs to be done soon as."

Mariusz translated his commander's requests to the farmer and said, "Now, old friend I have some bad news, news about my companions which will sadden all, but, I'm afraid, surprise none."

At the Hauptmann's suggestion of rest, Quyen drops her gear in an corner of the building to stake our her turf. Dropping everything but her uniform she reaches in and pulls out a smoke from her shirt pocket. Quyen then walks over to the door and lights up, making sure the all of smoke exited outside.

Once done she wanders over to her gear again and sits with her back against the wall.

After dropping the majority of his gear off, Dawid introduced himself to the farmers.

Also, he spoke to the American EPW, Latrell Watkins, the one that seemed to be working on the farm.

He gave the man a cigarette if interested and apologised for the lack of food to offer. He asked how he was doing, how he came to be there, and so on.

Finding a spot inside the barn to drop the MMG and its ammo Jan streaches and rubs aching muscles. Once he has streached he will take a quick tour of the barn making note of where the doors and windows are and what parts of the farm they look out on. He talks in a low and soothing voice as he passes the livestock so as not to disturb them.
Once has has done his little tour he stepps outside and smokes a cigarette while thinking. Then carefully stubbing it out he goes in search of Konrad.
"Everyone seems to be settling in with no problem. The barn, it is well made and comfortable. We should keep a watch, but for now we seem secure. "

Jason comes in to the farm, nervously edging past the two Rottweiler-mixes and entering the cow shed.  He divests himself of the F88 and its magazines, plus the grenades for the underslung M-203.  Then, he finds a place to set his own gear in one of the clean stalls.

With Minh barely acknowledging his existance -- even on that last, long trip to the Krolowa and back, when they were all alone -- Jason is certain he had moved too quickly in attempting to show his feelings for her.  Either that, or she did consider him a weakling for freezing when he did, back in Solec.  In any case, she is clearly not interested.  So much for that, he thinks. She wants to be left alone, I'll leave her alone.  But first, time to clear the air...

Taking two packs of Marlboros from his rucksack, Jason moves over to where Minh is sitting and squats down facing her.  "Look, Minh..." he begins.  "If I said or did anything to offend you, I apologize.  I will leave you alone from now on."  He hands her the cigarettes.  "These are for you, just to show there are no hard feelings."  Nor any feelings at all, he lies to himself.  He then stands and walks away, returning to his gear and sitting down.

In response to Dawid's offer of cigarettes, Latrell politely declines,

"Thanks man but I'd better not- it took me forever to quit the first time and there aint no cigarettes around here."

When Dawid asks how the American came to be at the farm, he responds,

"I'm on work-release, I guess you could say. I was with the 5th ID, 3-19 field artillery. We got rounded up at Kalisz. Luckily it was you Poles that overan our battery, not the Ruskies. We spent about a week in a cage at a little town near the battlefield, no food, hardly any water. Then they started marching us east.  Ended up in Lublin. I was one of the lucky ones who made it. Spent about a month and a half in a big POW camp up there. They have us prisoners workin' on all kinds of stuff- road repair, clearing rubble, all kinds of hard labor shit. I got lucky being sent out here. These farmers are good people. I eat better here than I did I ever did in the army. Anyway, its not so bad. I work hard but my belly's always full, I got a roof over my head, and nobody's shootin' at me."
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:38, Sat 27 Sept 2008.

Jason drops his about to drop his heavy ruck in the corner of one of the cattle stalls when he hears a growl and a hiss. Apparently, the spot has already been claimed by the mouser. A large but muscular, red and brown cat.

As McCoy is about to leave to set up his own little OP, the farmer, understanding the American soldier's intentions, raises a hand to stop him. Through Mariusz, he explains that there is already a lookout on the silo and that it would be best if all of the party stay out of sight.

A handbell rings out from outside. The farmer whinces and makes an emphatic two-handed "stay back" gesture, explaining curtly in thickly accented English,

"Soldiers here! Stay!"

He runs outside, leaving Latrell alone among the guests.

Peeking out from the entrance to the cattle sheds, those inside can't see what's happening on the other side of the farmhouse. They do hear, however, the distinct purr of an engine, growing louder as it approaches the farm along the dirt access road. The sound stops abruptly a few seconds later.

After several long minutes the engine coughs to life again and the sound of the engine recedes into the distance. The farmer returns looking relieved yet somewhat troubled. Through Mariusz he explains,

"It was just a routine patrol out of town. Said they'd received reports of a large group of bandits on the river a ways south. Said they shouldn't be a problem- there's a big surprise waiting for them at the bridge. Told me to keep and eye out and report anything suspicious, though, just to be safe. I said I would and told them everything was normal here. They left. I don't think they know anything... about you lot, I mean. So, er, I don't wish to be rude but when do you all mean to be leaving?"

As the farmer, clearly uncomfortable now, waits for an answer, two women enter the shed. One of them, a redhead in her early forties carries a steaming pot, while the other, a younger, very pretty blond with sky blues eyes brings with her a makeshift picnic basket. They begin laying out food on a blanket in the relatively clean center aisle of the shed.

Actions?
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:56, Sun 28 Sept 2008.