January 28, 2000, 04:36 hours, aboard the Neptune's Footlocker, a civilian heavy freighter commandeered at the docks in Antwerp, now a mile off the southeastern shore of Florida.

"Soldiers and Officers of the reformed 1st Fire Brigade it is my great joy to welcome you home after three years in Europe." General Marcel said. A round of cheers and applause went up throughout the freighter. "As the Commanding Officer of the 101st it's is my duty to remind you that our return to CONUS is not without requirements. We will begin docking in approximately twenty minutes. Once ashore proceed immediately with your prepared orders. Do not waver. The Soviets have a considerable force based within fifty klicks. Time is of the essence if we intend to carryout our attacks with the element of surprise. I'll turn you over to your company commanders now. Good luck, and God bless."

General Marcel stepped away from the microphone. Throughout the freighter non-commissioned officers shouted Attention! as people surged to their feet. Everyone waited as the old man made his way across the crowded deck to a waiting  helicopter.

"Well, shit." A gruff voice said from the heart of a formation standing at attention watching the General board his helicopter. "Boys, if you thought it was tough in the ETO wrap your minds around this. We are home, this America, our America. The Russians and their pals are dug in with no hope of returning home as heroes. This will be a fight to the bitter end."

Below the tumult of the deck a small group of men gathered around a large cork board as Major Pamela Cortes conducted her briefing....

"Once R-three-zero-five has cleared the beach they will signal with three pulses with a red flashlight. That's a red torch for our British friends." The Major said. Everyone laughed, knowing it was and old and lame joke, because the tension in the room couldn't have been cut with a chainsaw. "At that time the rest of the boats will start engines and move in to drop of the other teams."

She turned and swung a pointer up to the map and continued, "R-six-six will be the only infiltrating team along this avenue of ingress. The four other teams will set up control points and a radio repeater to safe guard the landing craft."

Major Cortes turned to face the assembled teams and pointed at a sand table with a well constructed approximation of the land where the teams would be operating. It boasted water ways, the slightly undulating terrain, and foliage. She stepped up next to the table and pointed to one corner before she spoke, "R-six-six will be delivered to this point roughly three hundred meters west of the north shore of the Princess Place Preserve on Pellicer Creek. From there you should be able to obtain visual recognition of this house. This is the location being used to house a small contingent of Polish infantry."

Pivoting to point out a series of photos of a large home, the Major made sure to denote a large flatbed truck, normally used to haul a single automobile, that had a red star painted across the breadth of the flatbed. "They have commandeered local transportation for what appears to six to eight personnel armed with assault rifles and a pair of SA-seven surface to air missiles."

Several whistles and 'oh, damns' escaped the gathered Recondos.

"Yes." The Major said. "I agree. We discovered this by accident. And nearly lost a Navy seahawk in the process. Luckily the Intel group aboard had the where-with-all to get these photos as the chopper was inbound. Gentlemen, the helicopter insertions will be over-flying this area in less than two hours. Any questions?"

Captain Bill Marsh, commander of Recondo group six, stood and asked, "Mame are you through wasting our time?"

Eleven minutes later the men of R66 were nestled low in the belly of an aging zodiac boat as it sped toward the Florida coastline at nearly forty miles per hour. The sky was clear, the moon was full, and just the faintest hint of per-dawn purple banded the skyline to the east behind them. Every man's guts were water tight; his anus was snapped airtight and his jaw was clenched tighter than a good girl's knees on prom night. But, the insertion always was the most dangerous part of a mission. Wasn't it?

Torv leveraged his drag-bag into the venerable Zodiac with arm trembling care, and set it down as gently as one would brush the thigh of a blushing virgin.

The capped muzzle of his M40 bolt gun protruded from the bag a bit, along with the stubs of the rifles bi-pod and a "whip" antenna. After burning through valuable rounds and precious time to get his dope mission ready, the very last thing be wanted to do was to knock his optic out of alignment before they had even hit the beach.

He was a little heavily built for a sniper, broad shoulders and narrow hips. Torv was young, but not especially handsome, possessing that sort of worn out "scowl" that so many other young men had developed over years of misery far from home. He was blond, but you might never know it his hair was cropped so short, and his eyes a vivid blue that stood out sharply from the carefully applied grease paint on his face.

He was wearing what used to be a pilots olive drab flight suit that was absolutely "slick" in the front, apart from the layers of cut up sea bags he had reenforced the knees and elbows with. He also had what might be called a "half ghillie", which really only covered his upper back, head and arms, but allowed him at least some respite from the muggy southern heat.

He was nervous of course, and it showed in his short, intense sighs and the way he checked his watch every thirty seconds. Some of his grease paint had also been smudged into the corner of his left eye and he worried at it carefully from time to time with the edge of his sleeve.

He was already sweating, even if it was not actually that warm. And it was probably a sure bet that his careful camo pattern would be an unrecognizable oily brown smear by sundown.

With his drag bag protectively between his legs, he offered to take the bag of the next man, and turned in his "seat" to receive it.

Andrew sat at the head of the boat studying the tops of the waves for any obstacles both man-made and natural as they approached the shoreline. He scanned the shore with his nvg's looking for anything out of the ordinary as well, lifting his HK to use its night vision optics should he see anything requiring a better and clearer look. He had changed out the barrel on the 21 for the shorter one, but he also had the standard barrel should it be needed for more long range work.

This was his "bag" after all, beach reconnaissance and clearing under enemy observation and fire, hopefully not the last one this time around. The key was speed once they were off the boat and on the sand they needed to cover the beach to the dunes at a sprint before half the team turned and checked the beach and the rest covered them inland. Once that was done the second half of the mission could begin and they would recon and clear the house, silently if possible.

If they could have been dropped off several hundred meters out from the surf line and swum in that would have been Andrew's choice, but it seemed speed was of the essence in this case. They also did not have the equipment for getting the topology ashore and inland, and hydrographic surveys for underwater obstacles and mines so they would have to rely on experience to gauge whether the beach is safe for the main landing.

Quickly Andrew checked his watch to make sure they were on schedule as he kept his eyes on the beach.....




-

Pat sat on the port side of the zodiac one hand gripping the side to steady himself the other moving checking his gear subconsciously.  This wasn't the sort of insertion he had trained for but he had learned that in the military that just meant you hadn't trained for it yet.

The last time he had been in Florida it was with his wife and son, Jim would be nearly 6 now and last he had heard they were safe further north.  Hopefully he may get to see them soon.  He sighed at that thought and scratched at his chin and stare out at the shoreline.

Welcome home he thought.

Roger say quietly in the rear of the boat, opposite the sailor handling the craft, and his eyes were watching the shoreline behind them for anyone clever enough to let them pass before they opened fire.

Across his chest rested an M16A2 with an underslung M203PI and the vest he wore was loaded with the "Big Fat Bullets" that made the 40mm weapon so appreciated by friends and hated by foes. Below the grenade loops were mag pouches for the rifle's 30rd mags of 5.56 ammo. The pouches were abnormally large having been hand converted from canteen covers. On his back above the ruck rode the odd camcorder sized canvas case that he seemed to keep with him just about all the time.

He thought about the All-Star Team of operators that Higher had thrown together and added him to. They all seemed qualified and if anything got in the way of success it would be their lack of experience as a team which they were all equally afflicted with.

He spit over the side and said a quick, silent prayer, to St. Lafitte, the patron of swamp pirates, and then grinned at the joke.

The men of R66, along with the zodiac's steersman, hustled the craft across highway A1A. It would be a six minute intermission in their ingress. The wind had picked up noticeably since they had set out.

Footsteps approached as Sargeant Conn Jacobs of R305 trotted up. He paralleled their progress as he spoke, "latest update, that storm blowing out of the triangle just hit Cuba. It's been upgraded to a typhoon and should make landfall here around thirteen zero five. Commander Baker reports steadily accelerating winds all morning with rains coming in at zero seven twenty."

As if on queue wind driven droplets spattered the roadway for several seconds. They could feel the drop in temperature.

"The new high for today is now fifty-two. Luck with keeping warm and dry." Jacobs continued. "The landing is still a go, but the typhoon is rushing the time frame. We are still on track, but the landing is being rushed. Command is gonna pull our zodiacs to move assets inland. Once you take target point Zulu four dig in and knuckle up. Sailer, after the drop make your egress."

He nodded, breathing too hard to speak, the zodiac's steersman wasn't accustomed to carrying his boat.

"Good hunting." Jacobs said as he turned away from R66.

Torv strained along with the rest of them as the navigated the narrow strip of land. Exposed on the road, the edges of his ghille tugged in the breeze as he put one foot in front of the other in an effort to bring the boat back down slope into the water.

It seemed he was going to appreciate the extra layer the mess of jutte provided today.

"Thanks" he grunted to Jacobs, and although he could not see a thing, he glanced to the sky. "Gonna get wet..." he said to nobody in particular as he eased the zodiac down into the water with the others, and steadied it while the first of them climbed in.

Carrying the watercraft did not seem to discomfit Castle overmuch

"Hngh."

Roger only grunted at the news about the weather and offered a laconic, "Copy that.", when he heard their modified objective.

After a winter in Poland there was no cold weather that could happen in Florida that he would consider difficult.

Andrew lead the way with his MG at his shoulder as he cleared left and right as the others in the team moved their transport over the road. Once the reached the other side of the road he took a knee as he continued to cover them as they relaunched the inflatable.

He was the last one in once he had made sure they had made the crossing unobserved, or at least a probable crossing without eyes on them. "I think we made it across without alerting the locals." Once he had found his position in the boat he looked to see if he could see their destination or at least a geo feature close by.


-

Pat groaned at the news of the incoming typhoon.  He shook his head glanced up at the heavens then shrugged and got on with the job at hand. Nothing he could do about the weather so let's kick on he thought to himself.

"At least that's some good news" he replied to Johnson while scanning his sector.

Petty Officer Nigel Riggs guided the zodiac along the shorelines of the Matanzas and into the Pellicer Creek estuary. The craft was often close enough to shore to run under overhanging limbs and foliage. The going was agonizingly slow that suddenly became worse after entering Pellicer Creek.

With the practice of weeks of training, the men of R66 eased paddles into the water and slowly paddled in unison. The little boat moved along at a walking pace, but made very little noise. So little in fact that the local cacophony of insects never ceased their incessant chirping. From the back of the boat, Riggs used an oar as a rudder and kept the boat mere feet from the shoreline.

Behind them, a peel of thunder broke less than a mile offshore and dark rain clouds began drifting across the coastline. Soon the light of the moon would completely lost. Heads turning like searching turrets, the men began to feel the stress.

Roger shipped his paddle and did a quick inventory of his spare batteries before flipping down his NVGs and then continuing to paddle. He handled the stubby paddle with long practiced ease having spent hours if not days in canoes and kayaks long before he joined the army.

Having moved to the centre of the boat early on to cover those paddling, Andrew stayed still and silent as he scanned the terrain flowing past them for threats. The eerie green glow of his NVG's illuminated their surroundings causing various distortions, but being much better then unaided vision.

The weather may play into their hands should the squall of rain and thunder cover their approach and attack. Either way they were probably going to get wet.


-
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 04:11, Sun 03 Nov 2019.

Torv continued to paddle slowly in the darkness. He was not navigating, so he just focused on his timing and what little he could see via the ambient light as his eyes continued to adjust.

After thirty minutes of rowing what would have taken five minutes by boat, R66 arrived at its primary insertion point just as dark clouds blocked out the moon. A peel of thunder from just offshore heralded the rain to come.

"I'm here until you signal all clear." Riggs said. "I'll be oriented seaward. If it goes south just call and I'll come pick you guys up. Good hunting."

The area was dense with low foliage after years unchecked growth. Clusters of magnolia trees covered in Spanish moss gave the preserve a Lovecraftian feel of insidious shadows. A quick map check verified their location, it was two hundred and seventy yards to the target.

This insertion was comprised of several "firsts" for Torv. First time with this team, first combat action in the states, and the first insertion to within rifle shot of the enemy. It was difficult for him to shake off the feeling of how easily they could have been spotted, a bunch of heat signatures out there on the flat cold black of the sea, but he quashed it and tried to focus on the task at hand.

He stepped out into the ankle deep water as quietly as he could manage, his drag bag high on his shoulder. He thought about tick, and snakes, and he moved up into the vegetation and dropped into a crouch. He waited for the little team to unload, then lit up his map with the red filter under the cover of his ghille hood.

"I'll see if I can get eyes on then? Let you know what we've got, and then hopefully give them something to think about before you assault." It was a question. They had made the rough plan before leaving, but he wanted to confirm that everybody was still on the same page before he peeled off.

"Find a place to provide over-watch of the target and then radio in a SITREP with as much information of the target building as possible. We will wait for the all clear from you before continuing forward."

Andrew did a quick check of his gear once he had exited the boat as they waited for the radio call.

OOC: I am not clear on everyone's roles so this is for the scout/sniper. Also not telling people how to do the job just that we need info before we can move.


-

OOC:your intent is understood, thanks for being upfront.

Crawling forward carefully, Torv could feel the drop in barometric pressure. The rain was going be here sooner than later. The winds were already gusting up to twenty miles per hour. At least any shot he took would be a short on.

Johnson trailed his fingers over his loadout and took a mental inventory and realized that he had forgotten the cigars he won in that poker game in Cuba. Well, they would be with rest of his gear. Thinking back over the areal photos of the target he recalled that flatbed truck used by these Poles sported a set of whip antena.

A second radio perhaps, or was it their primary?

Castle knelt in the shelter of the undergrowth and opened the laces on his ubiquitous canvas "camcorder case". He quietly withdrew the compact FN-P90 PDW followed by it's short fat suppressor and attached the two object by feel. Something he had done many many times before.

"We're holding our position after we take them out so we do this as quietly as possible and with as little damage to the location as possible."

Pat ran his hand along his MP5-SD and checked the magazine was securly in place.  He knew it was but it had become a combat ritual after an early firefight where he had fumbled a reload and dropped his magazine.  He was nervous about the incoming Typhoon plus the stress of combat operations and started to take deep slow breathes to calm himself.

Torv found a 'hole' in the tree line where he could observe the enemy position past several copse of trees and foliage that offered him great concealment and would help mask any shots. The target location was a house turned local museum and park HQ. There was a large parking area some fifty or meters behind the house and several roads into the lot. A single road ran from the west and headed to the house itself. Trees partially obscured sections of the house, but in truth that would hinder anyone inside more than anyone attacking.

Scanning the structure it was intact, dark, and cold. It was evident that no one was using it as a barracks of sorts. Checking the grounds Torv soon discovered why. The truck that the Poles had commandeered was about twenty meters from the water under the shadow of some tall magnolias. A large trap had been suspended over the vehicle's flatbed. A hint of light escaped on edge.

A single man was walking along the low retaining wall at the water's edge. Torv noted that on the house side the wall came up to the man's shins. But, on the creek side it was a three foot drop to the muddy creek bank. The retaining wall stretched along the entire front of the tourist area. There were even two of those coin operated telescopes.

In the foliage, off to the right from where he was observing from, Torv could make out what appeared to be a box truck or a cargo van under a tarp tucked back into the trees. Double checking the range through the mil dot reticle of his scope, he came up with two hundred and twenty meters. A chip shot. He adjusted his scope according to the dope sheet on the stock.

OOC: You do not have to repeat this verbatim, just give them a decent idea of what you discovered.

Torv crept over and  gently settled into his hide, where he felt fairly good about his positioning. A familiar ritual was enacted, his M40 rifle sliding from his drag bag, the bipod pulled into the open position, the protective caps on his optic flipped up., and his dope book laid out within easy glancing distance.

The set up was about as simple as a real field op could get, but he diligently dialed in his dope and quickly sketched out his target. The trees began little circles, the trucks little boxes with wheels, and he noted the cardinal directions.

When he felt satisfied, he keyed up his radio, resorting to plain speak with the new team, and out of the luxury of there being practically no traffic on the air.

"Johnson, Torv" he waited for the reply. "Structure's dark, have one sentry on patrol, two vehicles. Looks like they're all buttoned up for the weather." he kept his eyes on as he spoke in his whisper, the coil mic cradled close to his mouth in his off hand.

"So then our target is the flatbed."

"We move along the creek bank until we get into cover at the base of the retaining wall. Once there, Andrew, you and Pat hold up and I'll move along the wall until I'm close enough to take the sentry off quietly."

"Torv can signal me when I'm right under him."

"Once he's done you set up the 21 on the wall and Pat and I move to the flatbed and take out the guys there."

"All goes well we do this without firing any 7.62 and letting everyone in the area code know we're here."

"All does not go well then the two of you open up and take off anyone outside our kill box."

"Once that's completed we sweep the area to make sure there aren't any bandits here that we aren't aware of."

"We'll need to keep and eye on the house and the concealed truck in case there are any surprise guests."

"That cargo van is a concern, as is why they are not using the house... or at least appear not to be. I also think we have to few boots on the ground to cover everything so perhaps we need to do this as a group, rush forward clear the sentry, flatbed and then move to the cargo van while the sniper covers us ?"

"Also should we move through the trees and try to get behind the house to use it a cover before the final push forward ?"


-
This message was last edited by the player at 01:06, Wed 06 Nov 2019.

"Either the two of us can handle what's in the truck or we're going to need your machinegun. If we need your machinegun it will be better if it's set up in a ready position than firing on the move."

"Because of exactly what you're saying the waterside approach is better."

"We definitely clear as a team, including checking the box truck, with Torv on overwatch after."

The first clouds begin to block out the moonlight as they pas before the moon. The temperature drops as the winds pick up along the creek. The scents of salt and rain are carried on the winds. Overhead a crack of thunder momentarily drowns out the wind.

The distant sentry takes two rapid steps towards the seawall and thrusts out a hand. R66 watched in the eerie green luminescence of their night vision gear as a pale cone of an infrared spotlight shoots out from the sentries extended hand to illuminate a circle of water.

A log, easily mistaken for a swimming man in size and shape, its drifting along the rippling surface of the creek. After several seconds the infrared spotlight shuts off and the sentry takes several strides back along the path he was on. Adjusting his poncho to re-cover the spotlight, the man seems very wary.

In reply to Roger A Castle (msg # 25):

"All right we go with your plan, this is after all your backyard." Andrew let Torv know they were off over the team comms net and he was "green" for any emerging threats once the sentry was dealt with.


-

Castle nodded.

"..and if I fuck it up then you smoke his ass when he moves on me and we do it with The Hammer."

Giving Andrew time to quietly update Torv he moved off as quietly as possible toward the wall along the creek bank.

OOC:everyone moving toward the enemy position make recon check. There is a modifier, a sneaky GM only knows modifier. Not really, keeping low and slow in the wind and overcast shadows is good for a +10 recon.

The winds and thunder continued. It looked like more moonrise than sunrise as errant drops of rain fell sporadically.

23:22, Today: Roger A Castle rolled 49 using 1d100.  Recon + 10.

Success!

13:46, Today: Patrick Walsh rolled 77 using 1d100.  Recon roll at +10.

Fail :(

Andrew Johnson rolled 44 using 1d100.  Recon roll at +10. = success

The Polish soldier on patrol made another little circuit where he walking just the first flash of lighting split the overcast night. A moment later, thunder like an artillery blast followed. Everyone stopped for heartbeat, caught unprepared.

Patting chest over his heart in a pantomime of 'whew damn, that got me', the sentry smiled to himself under his bulky night vision goggles. Looking out over the water in the direction of the lighting a movement caught his eye. He activated the IR spotlight from his hip expecting nothing.

He gasped as he spied the disappearing head and shoulder of a slim man sneaking along the seawall......


Torv was watching as the others eased into their positions to assault the Polish unit. All was going well when a flash of lighting and its accompanying thunder took him by surprise. He muttered a curse as he went back to watching the team approach their positions.

Torv noticed the shocked guard pat his chest in surprise. He understood how the man felt. Suddenly the cone of the IR spotlight the sentry carried shot out and seemed illuminated Patric for brief second.

OOC: NVGS are fine for looking about, do very little for gunsights and scopes, hence the need for a laser to sight by. If you have a night vision capable sight mounted it will be capable of aimed fire. Otherwise you have to go front NVGS to scope and shoot in the dark.

Patric's heart skipped a beat when the thunder struck. He slipped in the mud and reflexively grabbed hold of the retaining wall. Caution set in and he immediately released the wall to hunch down in cover again. Catching a glimpse of the shadowy figure of the sentry he felt a sense dread.

Had the sentry seen him? The Pole was facing Patric's direction. He was equipped with NVGS and an IR spotlight!

Unaware of anything but their approach Andrew and Roger put the momentary startle behind and regained their composure.

Roger gestured with an open palm parallel to the ground and placed a shushing finger cross his lips.

If they were lucky the man would approach to investigate and the plan could go on as it was.

If they weren't it was about to get really f***ing loud around here.

'Shit, shit, shit' Pat thought as he hunkered against the sea wall.  He glanced back towards the direction they had come keeping quiet and hoping he hadn't been seen but dreading the worst.

Turing slightly Andrew drew his MG into his shoulder as he to waited for the point man to start the attack or to take out the sentry. Either way he remained still and silent while this played out.

If they heard running it was time to act.


-

Torv shifted just slightly to line up his scope on the sentry. He had come to respect the Russians, whatever else he thought about them, he respected him, and he did not take his job lightly.

Part of that job was being a team player, and if they were intent on doing all of this as quietly as possible, than he had to do his best to make that happen. He waited, and watched.

Private Yivecki Hombra back-peddled. He kept the IR light scanning along the edge of the seawall as he pulled the handheld from a pouch next to his AKMRs magazines. Lightning flashed again, farther away, but still close enough to momentarily glaze over light amplification, infrared, and thermal optics. He only hoped it was enough to momentarily scramble the sights of those damn Yankee tanks.

"Alert! Alert!" the private said as the radio neared his face. "They're here, on the seawall......

"Well fuck."

Castle popped up and shot the unfortunately competent sentry in the chest and face nine time with only the last few 5.7mm bullets flying off target.


"Gunner light up that tent!"

He then vaulted the low wall and charged diagonally across the space between the wall and the truck moving toward a flanking position.

Torv thought he saw the sweep of an arm, reaching for what he thought was a radio. The man's sudden frantic movement was the real give away however, the way he instinctually crouched, the way his stance widened. They had been seen.

Subconsciously Torv was already leaning slightly into his bipod for tension, the cheek weld smooth and familiar. He let his breath all the way out, held a little high for the headshot, and oh so gently pressed the trigger home.

Erin 'Torv' Torvinen rolled 54 using 1d100.  7.62×51 Headshot (62 or less).
This message was last edited by the player at 18:44, Sat 09 Nov 2019.

OOC: this will tie the PCS actions together

Roger Castle rose to aim at the sentry, tension already taking slack out the P90's trigger, when the young Polish soldier began talking into radio. Spent cartridges poured from the compact weapon as the hypersonic passage of a 7.62mm bullet cracked through the air less than a meter away. As 5.7mm bullets began to strike the man in chest the impact of the 7.62mm bullet removed the back his skull taking most the man's brain with it.

Torv cycled the bolt to chamber a fresh cartridge as Castle scrambled over the seawall. It occurred to him that a well placed parachute flare or two would be ideal now.

Andrew watched on with steady patience, a learned trait to be sure, as the sentry fell and the assault began. Nearly directly ahead him in the distant trees near the van Andrew noticed the faint muzzle flash of a weapon. There was the faint contrails of grenade launched flare. A moment later the gloomy overcast predawn morning was lit by harsh white light that illuminated the area of the seawall with pale light.

OCC:I will wait for Andrew and Patric to post before I spring the ambush and the Nazi Zombies captured by the Russians in WW2 attack

With his MG already to go Andrew fired on the individual who had fired the flare, a series a shot bursts erupted from the HK  as he looked to put the man down and anyone else that emerged from the van.

He uses the seawall for cover only exposing enough of his weapon to get the shots off accurately.

Andrew Johnson rolled 47 using 1d100.  Roll 3.
Andrew Johnson rolled 7 using 1d100.  Roll 2.
Andrew Johnson rolled 14 using 1d100.  Roll 1.


-
This message was last edited by the player at 21:34, Sat 09 Nov 2019.

"Son of a bitch!" Pat muttered as Murphy once more played his hand.  He flicked his NVG off his face and brought his SMG up to fire just as the sentries head ecploded.  "Nice shot" he muttered as he instinctively followed Castle though a slightly different path.

Walsh and Castle began moving in. The flare adove cast their shadows ahead of them. The hypersonic passage of several bursts from Johnson's HK21 passed ahead them. A scream immediately followed as the Pole who had fired the flare died under a hail of 7.62mm bullets.

More shouts echoed out of the shadowed woods behind the truck. They had the distinct authority common to NCOs the world over. An answering shout came from the truck. As a trio of soldiers with AKMR rifles burst from the tree line just ahead of the truck, the tarp fell away from the rear of the truck to reveal a DShK 12.7mm heavy machine gun set on a anti-air tripod. A Pole was turning on the flatbed, obviously the man who had released the tarp, and reached for the controls of a white light spotlight. Behind the machine gun another Pole began to swivel the muzzle around.

OOC: Everyone needs to roll a d10 vs thier coolness under fire, you must roll equal to or higher than your rating. A roll of 1 still fails. If you fail, you're taken aback for a second and the Poles act before you do. Congrats, you just charged a heavy machine.

Andrew changed targets and aimed for the Pole getting himself ready behind the heavy machine gun. With the man in his sights as he charges the gun handle Andrew let off a quick burst in his direction and then two follow up bursts at the man working on the spot light.

Behind Sea Wall
Sergeant Johnson
Scout team, behind sea wall
HK21E (91/100 belt box)
Firing at Poles on heavy MG/Firing 3 round bursts at MG team


Andrew Johnson rolled 58 using 1d100.  Target second spotlight guy.
Andrew Johnson rolled 60 using 1d100.  Target second spotlight guy.
Andrew Johnson rolled 35 using 1d100.  Target Gunner.

Andrew Johnson rolled 8 using 1d10.  CUF.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:04, Mon 11 Nov 2019.

Castle continued to hustle forward and wasted a lot of ammo firing at the three poles that had emerged from the tree line managing to hit only one of them.

Waiting for a lull in the gunfire he shouted in Polish, "Atak to zwód! Za toba! Za toba!". [The attack is a fake! Behind you! Behind you!]


Last he spoke into the radio hoping the headset would work, ++"Sniper target the Dosh Gun! KO that f***ing HMG!"++


17:22, Today: Roger A Castle rolled 34 using 1d100.  To hit w/ FN P90.

17:21, Today: Roger A Castle rolled 77 using 1d100.  To hit w/ FN P90.

17:21, Today: Roger A Castle rolled 83 using 1d100.  To hit w/ FN P90.

11:35, Yesterday: Roger A Castle rolled 78 using 1d100.  To hit w/ M203. FN P90

11:35, Yesterday: Roger A Castle rolled 5 using 1d10.  CUF.

Ammo remaining: 9/17

Patrick kept running, firing his MP5 towards the MG postion.  His nerves almost got the better of him but with a grunt he pushed on.



21:50, Today: Patrick Walsh rolled 6 using 1d10.  CUF.
21:58, Today: Patrick Walsh rolled 51 using 1d100.  HK MP5SD. Hit
21:58, Today: Patrick Walsh rolled 87 using 1d100.  HK MP5SD. Miss
21:58, Today: Patrick Walsh rolled 93 using 1d100.  HK MP5SD. Miss

Lt Walsh
Assault team
MP5SD
Running and firing

The old saying was true that in moments of dire threat a man does rise to the threat, but instead sinks to the limit of his skills.

For a handful of seconds the men of R66 who found themselves in harm's way facing the Russian made heavy machine gun personified the old adage. Bullets, many bullets were fired. But, enough found their mark to leave a telling account on the battlefield.

Andrew's hail of 7.62mm slugs outright ravaged a Polish soldier's neck and lower skull as he reached for the spade grips, while a slug managed to punch a hole through the other man's upper arm. Nearly simultaneously that man also took a pair of Patric's 9mm slugs in the hip and fell to the bed of the truck awkwardly and thrashed his way over the edge to fall to the ground on the opposite side of the vehicle.

Roger cut loose as well, but aiming for the men advancing from the tree line. With a yelp, one the trio grabbed his thigh and stumbled backwards trying to seek cover. He managed to trip and fall onto his back with bone jarring force instead.

As the cacophony of thoughts of 'how'd I miss that guy', 'damn, that's all I hit', and 'shit, damn, wasting shots here' immediately surfaced they were soon accompanied by thoughts of 'woo damn, he's down', 'holy crap that was fast', and 'hell yeah, I'm alive'.

And then there was the most sobering thought of all; 'who's next?'.

Andrew moved the muzzle of his machine gun slightly and focused on the treeline the small team they had just engaged emerged from.

He scanned left and right looking for signs of movement while covering the last push from the rest of his team. Looking through his sight as the rain drops started to hit the barrel and turn to steam Andrew waited to see how much the enemy wanted the house and position.



Behind Sea Wall
Sergeant Johnson
Scout team, behind sea wall
HK21E (82/100 belt box)
Holding fire while scanning for new targets.



-
This message was last edited by the player at 00:37, Thu 14 Nov 2019.

Andrew, just to be clear.

The man that fell behind the truck is out of sight to everyone, including Torv, at the moment. And sighting in on the three men emerging from the woods from your current position will mean firing through a space occupied by friendlies since Patric and Roger are actually moving towards the truck. That puts them moving at an angle across your field of fire.

Sorry I didn't reply about this or update the map yet. I was waiting for Torv to post so everyone was on the same posting timeline. I hate to say hold up, this game is progressing in a great way. It's just that pesky 'real life' holding us up for a moment. Thanks for being patient a bit longer and I appreciate the detail you use in play.

In reply to Dr. Strangelove (msg # 50):

OOC: Sure no problem, I will edit now and just hold. Thanks.

Adrenaline pumping through his system Pat veered towards the right heading towards the fallen sentries position.  He was firing at the small group of three Soviets now more to keep there heads down than any real hope of hitting.

20:24, Today: Patrick Walsh rolled 99 using 1d100.  HK MP5SD.
20:23, Today: Patrick Walsh rolled 31 using 1d100.  HK MP5SD.
20:23, Today: Patrick Walsh rolled 89 using 1d100.  HK MP5SD.

OOC: today is Thursday and we haven't moved forward. Sorry, it seems RL has held Torv up. Starting from Patric's post we will continue on and just bring Torv back in when he gets back to us. Hopefully that will be soon. Andrew thanks for your patience pal.

Under the shaky light of the flare Patric did his level best to put down the advancing Polish infantry near the trees, but the conditions were too much. The wind was whipping the flare away, sending it further northwest than was useful. The Poles were seasoned troops with enough sense to scatter into the scrub brush along the ground. And he had simply done too much; fear, exertion, and adrenaline made it difficult to react smoothly.

He wasn't surprised when his 9mm bullets chased the Poles to ground, and little more.

Further inland a burst of fire erupted from the shadows towards Roger and Patric. Tracers passed just above the corner of the flatbed from a 5.45mm assault rifle.

A burst of 5.45mm bullets struck Roger in the side of his vest under his left arm. Magazines, a canteen, and several 40mm grenades were demolished. The side panel of his heavy Kevlar vest was shredded a bit and gave way to a single bullet.

Pain like being stuck with a big needle into a broken rib flared through Roger's side. But, it wasn't a lung deep pain. He dropped to one knee, more out of a need for cover than the pain. The fear of being shot again paid off as tracers passed high, missing him.

A last burst of 5.45mm rounds, fired too far ahead of their target in a rush, blew by Patric nearly a meter from his face. But, he had whipped his head around the moment the rifle fired and saw the rounds strike Roger.

Both men's ears buzzed with the hollow ring common to being close the hypersonic passage of bullets and gunfire. It was a sure sign of being at the sharp of the spear.

Pivoting to locate the new threat, Andrew was shocked to see headlights suddenly a pear then wink out a good distance, perhaps 200 meters or so, back along the access road to the house turned museum. 'Damn' crossed his thoughts; it was too dark to get a real sense of the range, he couldn't hear the engine or tire noise, and he couldn't really make out the vehicle.

OOC: just remember that NVGs are great observation but not for gunsights, that is what lasers are for (so you can see where you're actually aiming), night sights are great for shooting at stuff but not terribly awesome at observation (the field view is too narrow).

With a slight wrist movement Andrew drew a bead on the man firing on the team as they approached the pick up. In quick succession he fired four short bursts towards the new target as he appeared out of cover.

When the truck appeared in his sight line he keyed his radio "All call-signs, vehicle on the west road, possibly additional enforcements. Angus out."

He hoped he was wrong and the truck was not disgorging another squad for them to deal with, if so they probably needed to bug out.

Andrew Johnson rolled 93 using 1d100.  Fourth Burst.
Andrew Johnson rolled 32 using 1d100.  Third burst.
Andrew Johnson rolled 12 using 1d100.  Second Burst.
Andrew Johnson rolled 90 using 1d100.  First burst.

Behind Sea Wall
Sergeant Johnson
Scout team, behind sea wall
HK21E (82/100 belt box)
Firing four bursts on new target, radioing through vehicle sighting.

Dose the first burst count as aimed, not that it will make much difference ?


-
This message was last edited by the player at 03:08, Fri 15 Nov 2019.

Castle hustled up to the truck and knelt next to the front wheel.

He took a moment to gauge how badly he was wounded and switch weapons stowing the PDW for the M16A2/M203 combo.


OOC: Can't find in the book how long it takes to swap weapons so I'm taking the round off to do it while trying to put the engine between me and any more flying lead.

OOC: Mule straps. In the era before fancy combat slings, and even to the present day, the use of 550 cord to make short strap tied to the sling base on the stock and a carabiner on other allowed a rifle to be suspended from the lbe in such a way that it was out the way when desired, easy to reach when needed, and non-binding when aiming.

Roger knelt alongside the truck tire. Stowing the P90 so he could bring his M16 forward didn't take mind off of the blood chilling in the cool air under his armor. Noticing the sticky sensation made him aware of the moaning Pole on the other side of the truck. Glancing up in the general direction of the Pole that shot him, Roger spotted the thin beam of the PAC4 on Andrew's HK21 as it lanced through deepening shadows searching for the Pole.

Andrew tracked the beam through the HKs night vision sight letting the beam drift onto the shadowy figure between two magnolia trees. It was a good position, keeping the truck between himself and the two assaulting men.

He fired reflexively. By the time the body had fallen the HK was back in firing position from the recoil. Waves of heat from the suppressor were beginning to cause blooming in the night sight. The short forced powder combustion into the can and quickly filled it with high pressure gas. Andrew sighed, he would have To change barrels soon in order keep suppression or simply go loud.

"Grenatten! Grenatten!" Was shouted from the trees behind the truck.
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:36, Fri 15 Nov 2019.

"Dobry pomysł...", [Polish: Good idea.] Mumbled Castle just before he lobbed a frag grenade over the truck and into the trees directly at the voices he heard shouting.


22:51, Today: Roger A Castle rolled 62 using 1d100.  Thrown weapon. Success!

With two of his team members now interspersed in front and possible beside the target pick up truck, Andrew focused down the road towards were he had seen a vehicle earlier. He was looking for movement, light or whatever may draw his eye to indicate people were approaching their position and possibly how many.

Andrew Johnson rolled 70 using 1d100.  RECON - Spot enemy.



-

There was slight pop, if a soldier where accustomed to hearing, before the explosion. The tiny pop of an igniter charge that compressed and ignited the powder filler of a fragmentation grenade. Roger Castle heard, without realizing he had listened for it.

He heard it a moment before the shock wave of the percussive blast blew leaves and debris from under the truck. This was immediately followed by the shower of glass from the side window and the windshield blowing out, rattle-sprang of fragments riddling the side of the truck, and the stench of diesel fuel from the ruptured fuel tank. Men shouted in Polish, angry Polish. It was harsh, guttural, and carried many, many words best not said in front of one's mother or pastor.

Roger was able to be grateful for one thing; the truck wasn't full of gasoline or alcohol.

Patric slid up Roger just as the explosion smacked into the dark morning. It would have taken him aback a bit, but after the last thirty seconds it was just par for the course. He noticed the blood under Roger's left armpit, the hole in the armor, and figured it must be serious now since the man had switched to an assault rifle.

Andrew was scanning the trees along the access road as best he could. Breath in, hold, breath out; keep the sight steady and slowly tracking looking for subtle motions. It was the visual queues that were overlooked that gave away concealed movement; a shaking sapling, a bush bending the wrong way in the breeze, small animals fleeing from obvious cover.

But, not an exploding grenade. Quickly panning his night sight around, Andrew found Roger and Patric huddled at the side of the truck near the front tire. The truck itself was pretty mashed, but it was the dark silhouettes of at least a dozen men that drew his attention.

The the darkness was suddenly lit up as the men simultaneously opened fire into the truck. Tracers ricocheted from beneath the truck after striking the ground at a shallow angle. Other tracers past through the truck. There was the unmistakable sound of metal pinging as high velocity bullets past through the body of the truck. Oil and coolant began to pour into the grass, the remaining tires popped.

A few stray tracers even careened past Andrew like angry hornets.

It was not unexpected for the enemy to try this, they had the numbers and it was Soviet doctrine after all. Andrew lined up the front runner and with his stock tight into his shoulder he fired. He dug his boot into the soft mud that was behind the sea wall, finding purchase on rock which he assumed was probably the walls foundation.
Left to right he swept once the enemy solders dropped either hit or to find cover. Andrew wondered if these are the re-enforcements or still the local squad, not that it makes much difference at the moment.

Behind Sea Wall
Sergeant Johnson
Scout team, behind sea wall
HK21E (82/100 belt box)
Firing four bursts on runners.


Andrew Johnson rolled 99 using 1d100.  Burst 4.
Andrew Johnson rolled 83 using 1d100.  Burst 3.
Andrew Johnson rolled 30 using 1d100.  Burst 2.
Andrew Johnson rolled 33 using 1d100.  Burst 1.


-

"Keep can you move, we got to get out of here." Pat looked under the truck then across to the sea wall leaping over the side may be their best bet to get into cover he took a grenade out and prepared to through it towards the enemy

Lt Walsh
Assault team
MP5SD
Hiding and getting ready to throw.

Andrew walked rounds into two Poles that subsequently dropped from sight. The rest of the Poles in that vicinity scattered to cover. But they kept firing. Another flare went up from back in the trees, only this one was shot into the winds the southeast and threatened to illuminate the battleground longer than the previous flare.

The flare was followed by rapid orders in Polish. The hairs on the back of Roger's neck stood up as the several of Polish soldiers shifted their fire and began hammering bursts of 5.45mm bullets into the seawall and trees near Andrew. That he had finally been spotted was a given. Luckily, their haste was working for Andrew.

OOC:Going to make a few die rolls for the bad guys and one for Torv. Hate to leave him out completely.

OCC: rolled for Torv, he hit. Even shot a Pole in the noggin. Then rolled for four shots, a grenade toss, and a recon check. He are the results so no one is going how that happen; Dr. Strangelove rolled 193 using 6d100 ((28,30,26,24,74,11)). Four shots 28, 30, 26, 24 base of 30; grenade toss base of 24, and recon base of 25.

Torv exhaled and let the trigger find the squeeze it liked. It liked it so well in fact that the shot took a Polish grunt in the temple just under the brim of his helmet. He cycled the bolt without thought or hesitation.

Andrew hunkered down close the seawall trying to create as low a silhouette as possible. The hypersonic passage of 5.45mm bullets was loud, ringing his ears, until suddenly there was a stinging impact in his chest. About the instant he realized he had been shot there was a flare fiery pain in left forearm and an immediate impact in his chest again as a bullet passed through his forearm.

Reacting prudently, Andrew simply dropped to his knees and ducked out of sight of the seawall. The wound to his chest was a minor one; the very tip of the bullet had made it through a magazine and his armor to poke him. But, the hole through his forearm would require some attention. Aside from the pain and the bleeding, there was also the reaction of the traumatized muscles. It would definitely put a hurt on his golf game (-10 to rolls when using that hand).

A burst of rifle fire sent 5.45mm rounds ripping over the hood of the truck to strike Patric in the top of the head. His helmet took the brunt of the attack, actually splintering and flying to pieces. A sharp pain and a sensation of a dull thud sent him to his knees. Blood immediately soaked his scalp, but he kept control of the grenade he was prepared to toss. An ache drew his attention and his lifted hand met with the stubby remains of his left ear.

Patric looked up to see Roger staring at him, a questioning look on his face as if to say 'damn, dude, that was impressive, but are you fucking alright?'.

The Polish soldier in charge shouted several commands. An 'oh damn' chilled ran through Roger's thoughts. A moment later a shot rang out. But, it wasn't a 5.45mm. It the deeper crack of a 7.62 x 54mm round. Several in fact. And they were headed towards Torv.

Patric followed Roger's face as the other man looked from the voice in the woods towards Torv. High powered shots rang out and he cringed thinking of the sniper in lonely position. Then, something caught his eye. It looked as though someone had chugged a softball out of the shadows.

"Granat!" A Pole shouted.

Patric watched the grenade arc overhead as Roger's head shot around at the shout. It was a poor throw using way too much power. The grenade sailed  nearly twenty yards before it detonated about four feet off the ground. It was a deep, brassy booming sound that rattled the trees and sent debris swirling on the winds. But, it was too far away from the trio to inflict casualties.

"I'll be fine but your fuckin' ear is KIA. These guys are starting to piss me off.", quipped Castle before returning fire under the front of the truck.

He hunted for muzzle flash and was satisfied to see a couple of gun barrels flailing after positive hits.

17:54, Today: Roger A Castle rolled 82 using 1d100.  To hit w/ M16a2.

17:54, Today: Roger A Castle rolled 39 using 1d100.  To hit w/ M16a2. Hit!

17:54, Today: Roger A Castle rolled 73 using 1d100.  To hit w/ M16a2.

17:54, Today: Roger A Castle rolled 36 using 1d100.  To hit w/ M16a2. Hit!

Ammo remaining 6/10

His back against the sea wall Andrew made a quick assessment of his wounds and deemed himself still in the fight, for now. He huddled behind the machine gun and once he had a target he again fired off a series of bursts towards the running Poles.


Andrew Johnson rolled 91 using 1d100.  Burst 4.
Andrew Johnson rolled 89 using 1d100.  Burst 3.
Andrew Johnson rolled 98 using 1d100.  Burst 2.
Andrew Johnson rolled 36 using 1d100.  Burst 1.

Rolls like that aren't going to do it.

Behind Sea Wall
Sergeant Johnson
Scout team, behind sea wall
HK21E (70/100 belt box)
Firing four bursts on runners.


-

Pulling the pin Pat tossed the grenade in his hand towards the closest group of Poles, "Grenade! Back at ya." he called out as he threw


11:48, Today: Patrick Walsh rolled 17 using 1d100.  Thrown Weapon. Success

Bullets shattered saplings, ripped gouges out of the ground, and tore into Polish infantry. Their combine efforts sending three men howling to the ground, Andrew and Roger effectively suppressed the area immediately behind the front of the truck. Men took to the ground to avoid the hail of bullets, many trying to help their wounded comrades.

Then, Patric's hand grenade landed amid the tumult. The hollow boom of the explosion was a visceral experience for Roger and Patric as the shock wave reverberated in their lungs. More screams followed the blast. And more shouted commands.

A Pole could be heard talking loudly into a radio handset not far from the truck. He was talking over the gunfire and explosions, giving explicit instructions, and unintentionally telling everything to Roger Castle as well....

...."Yes, and platoon sergeant Yachenov be sure to get the anti-air missiles away from this area." The man was saying. "Keep the operators and the loaders there with you and two other men, then send the balance of the platoon back this way..."

The blast from several AKMRs drown out the conversation.

"And have Danechek take his squad around the parking area to the south." The man was obviously a platoon level officer. "But don't let the men bunch up. These Americans are known to use their artillery very close to their formations."

Andrew kept the pressure up on the Poles, looking for muzzle flashes or anything else that would give their position away. He fired another four bursts either down the side of the truck of at anything that gives away a position.

Andrew Johnson rolled 2 using 1d100.  Burst 4.
Andrew Johnson rolled 91 using 1d100.  Burst 3.
Andrew Johnson rolled 84 using 1d100.  Burst 2.
Andrew Johnson rolled 7 using 1d100.  Burst 1.

OCC: Can Andrew use one of those outstanding success to take out the guy on the radio ?

Behind Sea Wall
Sergeant Johnson
Scout team, behind sea wall
HK21E (70/100 belt box)
Firing four bursts on poles.

Andrew cut loose sending a burst through two men at once, one of which he knew was dead. Clipped another pair of bursts through the trees forcing men to bob and weave as they moved. And, sent his last burst into a man carrying ammunition, presumably for the DShK gun, that detonated in the can. The bursting ammo can wounded the carrier as well as several others nearby.

All fire from the Poles came to grinding halt. Orders where barked by NCOs, but the men were to focused on keeping out of the line of fire and helping their comrades.

Castle ripped off several bursts at the momentarily cowed poles.

19:11, Today: Roger A Castle rolled 85 using 1d100.  To hit w/ M16a2.

19:11, Today: Roger A Castle rolled 3 using 1d100.  To hit w/ M16a2. Hit!

19:10, Today: Roger A Castle rolled 97 using 1d100.  To hit w/ M16a2.

19:10, Today: Roger A Castle rolled 96 using 1d100.  To hit w/ M16a2.

Ammo remaining 2/10

Between shots he growls to Patrick through gritted teeth, "We gotta fall back and get Big Arty involved. Their callin' in the better part of a platoon and moving the damn launchers."

"When I find out who decided the four of us could take this place away from this many troops and hold it afterward I may shoot 'em in the fucking face."

"...Razimov, move your squad to the seawall," the Pole leader said just before, "Ah! My leg."

Roger's bursts went scattering across the ground, but a ricochet struck the man mid sentence. He knew it was only a marginal hit, the bullet being robbed of much of its kinetic energy.

"Calling in the pre-arranged plot." Torv said over the unit comms and suddenly vanished as he reached for the SINCGARS radio.

The preplotted barrage called for a star shell, three smoke, then seventeen high explosive rounds from the destroyer's 5 inch gun. If the gun crew ran to time it would three minutes before the star shell passed overhead. Another twenty seconds for the smoke to fall. And a further minute before the HE fell. But, the preplotted fire mission was based on the location of the house, not the truck. And danger close from a mile offshore was 250 meters.

The Poles were still focused on retrieving their wounded. Only one man fired; the silence made the gunfire easily identifiable as a Dragonov being fired towards Torv's position. Two men suddenly appeared alongside the rear of the truck and grabbed hold of the anti-aircraft mount and began dragging the HMG off the truck.

As the two poles clambered up the side of the truck Andrew fired again to bring them down. He knew the heavy machine gun was a prise they would not give up, including the ammunition and from personnel experience he knew how effective it can be for both on the ground and against helicopters.

Andrew then hunkered behind the sea wall as he removed the suppressor and placed it in his belt pouch.


Andrew Johnson rolled 98 using 1d100.  Burst 4.
Andrew Johnson rolled 63 using 1d100.  Burst 3.
Andrew Johnson rolled 78 using 1d100.  Burst 2.
Andrew Johnson rolled 13 using 1d100.  Burst 1.

Behind Sea Wall
Sergeant Johnson
Scout team, behind sea wall
HK21E (66/100 belt box)
Firing four bursts on poles.


-

His head ringing Pat ducked back down behind the engine block. He shook his head and immediately regretted the action.  "Oh Fuck." he muttered "If we make it out of here I won't stop you Keep." He popped up and fired back towards the Polish troops before ducking back down.


15:00, Today: Patrick Walsh rolled 65 using 1d100.  HK MP5SD.
15:00, Today: Patrick Walsh rolled 71 using 1d100.  HK MP5SD.
15:00, Today: Patrick Walsh rolled 17 using 1d100.  HK MP5SD.


Lt Walsh
Assault team
MP5SD - 6/10 shots
Hiding and getting ready to throw.

Andrew cut loose. It was loud, obnoxiously so after becoming accustomed to the cough-crack of the sound suppressors lessened report.

Bullets struck the tire, frame, bed, and exhaust pipe of the truck. Further demolishing the already damaged vehicle. The two men sliding the DShK gun towards them recoiled in response, yanking the heavy weapon and its mount off the truck's bed to crash to the ground.

Andrew was reasonably sure he struck one of the men, but wasn't sure of the shot placement. His forearm throbbed, reminding him of the capability of the enemy and causing him to hunker down close enough to just peer over the top of the seawall.

It all seemed to be quieting down until Patric fired as string of bursts from his suppressed MP5. From nearly forty yards away Andrew couldn't hear the weapon firing, but he did hear a scream. Unsure if it was due to a hit or not, he chose believe Patric had struck another Pole too. It simply made him feel better.

"He's dead, pull back twenty yards." A Pole called out with the air of authority common to career NCOs. "Blavorich move back. You're the only medic and the lieutenant is dead. That bullet severed his femoral artery."

The sound of men grunting under a heavy load was a sound all soldiers became all too familiar with in war. So, too, were the groans and screams of wounded men being drug away from the fighting. Roger sighed, a moment of relief. But, the soon to be incoming barrage would likely miss many of the enemy and possibly destroy the only solid structure in the area.

'Well, damn.' Roger thought to himself.

Castle had emptied his rifle without effect. (The dice roller is whipping our asses)

"C'mon Lieutenant let's fall back to the wall."

He clawed out a magazine and reloaded on the way back to the wall being sure to angle out of Andrew's line of fire.

Andrew continued to fire, covering the two members of the team as they fell back to the wall. Once the team was behind the sea wall Andrew made a suggestion.

"I have a radio if you want to call in corrections so we can have the the fire fall on the Poles and not the house. Especially given we are going to need some shelter soon."

He indicates the radio on his chest pouch.



Behind Sea Wall
Sergeant Johnson
Scout team, behind sea wall
HK21E (54/100 belt box)
Firing four bursts on poles.



Andrew Johnson rolled 69 using 1d100.  Burst 4.
Andrew Johnson rolled 60 using 1d100.  Burst 3.
Andrew Johnson rolled 19 using 1d100.  Burst 2.
Andrew Johnson rolled 78 using 1d100.  Burst 1.</orange>


-

OOC: 1st, Erin 'Torv' Torvinen, rolled 51 using 1d100 ((51)).
2nd, there is very little movement to observe from the Polish Infantry at this time. They have taken a beating and need to regroup, that is obvious to all.
3rd, corrections will alter how long it takes to receive supporting fire

Andrew blasted away again. But, the Poles were keeping low and in the indistinct shadows. It appeared they were pulling back for the moment. The flare passing overhead suddenly shifted due west as the wind whipped up and lighting cracked nearby. The following thunder boded ill, the typhoon's rains coming sooner than expected.

There were several muted pops as the Poles tossed out a trio of smoke grenades that the wind whipped about the area quickly. The effect was an acrid smelling fog that limited visibility to twenty yards or so. It was most evident to Torv and Andrew, they lost sight of the other recondos in moments.

"Mission corrections sent. Not sure of the quality of the corrections." Torv said over their comms. "They storm has thrown up a lot of heavy ionospheric crackle. From what I could make out the star shell should pass overhead in four minutes."

There was a shot.

"I think they are pulling back to the access road." Torv continued. "I took a shot at the last man I could see before the smoke hazed everything out. The winds are rough now. Listen, I can't Keep or Gem, maybe the team should pull back now."

"We need to get back far enough that we don't get smoked by the fire mission at least."

In reply to Roger A Castle (msg # 79):

"Everyone ok to move ?" If given the all clear Andrew will lead the team back the way they came in along the sea wall. Looking to avoid any trouble or run ins with unfriendly forces.



Andrew Johnson rolled 45 using 1d100.  Recon = success



-

With the smoke and the quiet Pat rose up and "Let's move Keep" he said a little too loudly, the ringing in his head making it hard to hear and keep his volume under control.  He dashed off towards the seawall zig-zaging as he ran waiting for a blow to the back at any moment.

The trio of Recondos moved quickly, despite the loving attempts of the Polish infantry. Moving back to Andrew, Roger and Patric soon took up an order of march with the the three of them moving about ten yards apart as Andrew lead the way sweeping the shadows with his HK21.

It hurt. Andrew felt every ounce of the machine gun like it was pinned to the muscles in his forearm with wood screws. Every breath made Roger wince a bit, be looked forward to taking off the constraining body armor. Just now while the Poles could still shoot him. And Patric was digging trough his pockets, he knew he had some Army issue pain relievers somewhere. Swiss Army knife, button compass, notepad, ink pen, EOD multi-tool, match-case, extra field compress, bug repellent, toothbrush,.....

The star shell passed overhead like a tiny comet passing through the heavy grey clouds. It was also three minutes early. Someone aboard the Destroyer had expedited their fire support mission.

"Run, Run, Run!" Torv's voice erupted in their ears. "It too damned early."

Andrew picked up the pace considerably, while at the same time looking for cover. At this point hard up against the sea wall might be the best bet. When the time runs out that is exactly what he will do, if they have not seen anything else suitable. "Against the wall."


-

Castle leaned against the wall next to Andrew.

"Well on the bright side the f***in' poles won't have time to get clear either."

He took the small radio that had been offered earlier and made ready to transmit fire correction for as long as they were alive to do it.

"Oh god damn." Pat his head throbbing with pain pushed on running as quickly as he could he threw himself against the sea wall when time was up and grabbed for his personal medkit and took the pain killers.

Seconds passed and turned into minutes. Then the passage of the 5 inch shells came in like angry little foghorns passing by. There was a trio of explosions that where heard but not felt percussively; the smoke shells.

A quick check revealed both good and bad. The shells put up and effective wall smoke between the Polish infantry and the Recondos. But, one shell had struck the house and the rook was begin to catch fire.

"Expect HE in a minute." Torv said.

Andrew watched the smoke round exploded on the house, "Well looks as if we will have to find another bed for the night ?"


-

"I think that one was bad luck any way."

"Bloody Murphy strikes again." Pat said with a shake of the head then a sharp pain reminded him that it took time for the pain relief to kick in.

The first of the high explosive rounds ripped the morning just the lighting and thunder began in earnest. It was ominous to say the least. But, the explosions produced by the near ninety pounds of filler composition 7, nitro-glycol 67% drowned out the weather instantly.

Especially at distance of one hundred twenty meters.

The shells fell three to four seconds apart and had the sound a war that was running away from them. The disorientation wasn't severe. Minutes of calm, a canteen's worth of water, and handful of pain reliever, extra strength was the need of the moment. The battle damage assessment could wait until then.

"I can't see you guys." Torv said. "Are you still alive?"

"Nope. Not yet. Still f***ing dead for a minute or two yet.", responded Roger.

He ate a couple of grunt vitamins and chugged water until his canteen was empty.

When he was able he rose high enough to just clear the wall with a night scope and scan for enemies in the direction he knew they had been before the HE fell.

If he saw anything moving he would update the artillery and depending on how big it was maybe call in more of the death from the sky.

Andrew worked on sorting out his arm and removing the bullet lodged in his armour. He used one of his field bandages and took some pain killers before making sure his work on the bandage would hold.

If need he would assist with any corrections and making sure the rounds covered the parking lot where the second squad had been sent as well as falling on the vehicle he saw pull off the road earlier before rolling back from their position.


-

"The mission has been pushed again. Birds are the air." Torv informed the trio. "Two snakes are inbound, six minutes. The first flight of slicks is due to pass over in ten."

As if on queue, the weather burst loose with a heavy, cold rain. Thunder echoed under the dense rain clouds and occasional lightning bolts lit the gloom for moment.

In reply to Dr. Strangelove (msg # 93):

"Well that may put the fire out at least." He placed his black poncho over himself as he continued to watch the fireworks.


-

"God loves the infantry.", Roger chuckled

Thunder crackled and the wind howled slapping the earth with fat drops of rain. An edge to the storm, almost as a subtle calling, the men could have sworn someone whispered, "Amen, brother."

"Oh bloody hell" Pat uttered as he realised he had left uis poncho in the back of the Rover.  He dug out his beret and gingerly placed it on his head.  He huddled down in cover waiting for the bombardment to finish.

OOC: placing beret over wounds in defiance of the situation, stiff upper lip bonus of +5, leaves him with a -5 modifier.

"Snakes are two minutes out." Torv said. "It appears that the Poles took a real beating. I can see a lot of downed trees, a handful of craters about the size of a mortar position, and at least eighteen bodies. You guys should get moving."

Scanning the path of destruction left by the artillery strike made the trio glad they weren't facing such attacks. The house had taken a single HE shell, but was mostly intact. A path of craters led out to the west clearing a path through the magnolias that ran at least one hundred fifty meters, if not a bit more.

The truck was in the shallow water near where Roger and Patric first crossed the seawall. The bodies, some from the assault and the others of the men trying drag away wounded comrades, litered the ground like so many broken toys. There wasn't ant sign of movement, nor shouts of wounded men or the orders of NCOs.

The rain limited visibility at distance, and the storm was growing worse. Too bad for reliable target interdiction by anti-aircraft missiles. But, that also applied to helicopters in the air.

"So do we sweep the area and make sure the missiles are gone or destroyed ? Hold up in the house until the storm blows out ? Or do we give them the all clear and roll them in ?"


-

OOC: you don't have call in or wave off the airlift. It is coming, with the whole invasion force, no matter what now. The typhoon has pushed the time table and makes withdrawal back to the ships an impossibility for the moment.

"I looks like, wait one." Torv said.

Moments later a shot rang out west of the trio. It came from deeper inland, but the weather made it hard to place the shot. Possibly within one hundred fifty meters. Maybe a little less. The crack of the bullet was slight, rain muted. But, the direction of the shot was unmistakable. It was aimed at Torv.

"We swee..."

Castle's hopes that the enemy sniper had cleared the area 'or got blown to hell' were shattered before he could finish his answer showing him that that was clearly not the case.

"Raider 1, Raider 3, Torv? You still with us?"

Pat looked back towards Torv's last position with a sinking feeling in his stomach and waited for a report hopefully.

There was a clicking on the tram's frequency. Unnoticed at first. Then, three short breaks on the mic, then three long breaks, then three shorts breaks again. Moments passed.

Break, Break, Break; Long Break, Long Break, Long Break; Break, Break, Break.

Universal Morse code for SOS. Hearts sank, but spirits lightened; Torv was at least still alive.

"I'll get Torv. You guys keep the sniper from shooting me?"

Andrew gave a nod as he changed out the barrel on the HK for the longer one. He stetted in then to watch as his team mate then made the perilous journey towards their own sniper.

Watching for movement and anything else that would give the enemy position away Andrew readied himself to fire on the lone enemy should he spot something.


Andrew Johnson rolled 17 using 1d100.  RECON.



-

Pat moved slightly hoping for a better view of the sniper, he only had the SMG with him so wasn't going to be able to do much at this range.  Hopefully he could spot the Pole and point him out before he got shot again.

A sound began building in the background of the storm. High pitched and rhythmic, it was the approach of helicopters. Two, by the sound, and with the high blade pitch of Sea Cobras. The snakes were coming through their ingress lane, low and fast, and were maybe a minute out.

Castle was moving through towards their initial landing zone and Torv's covering position when an outgoing shot cracked through the darkness from somewhere about where Torv should be. He had managed a return package for the Polish sniper.

A second later there was a faint scream. Package delivered.

Patric and Andrew searched the bombed-out and smoke cluttered woods for signs of the sniper when a shot rang out from Torv's position. A scream a moment later sent several Poles into frantic motion near the seawall about a hundred yards away. They could make three men as the scrambled for cover in a thicket of mulberry and honeysuckle. Pale orange-yellow and bright red, might as well been a Christmas light with the stroking lightening.

Castle kept his head low and moved as quickly as possible toward Torv's nest. Getting off a shot didn't mean he wasn't hurt.

12:22, Today: Roger A Castle rolled 63 using 1d100.  Recon . Success.

With a flick of his wrist Andrew began to lay down fire on the cover the men where trying to egress through. Several bursts went into the group as Andrew yelled that someone needed to give the Cobras a target using his tracers as a marker.

Andrew leads in his fire looking to take down the lead runner and then work his way back.

Behind Sea Wall
Sergeant Johnson
Scout team
HK21E (42/100 belt box)
Firing on Poles moving to cover.


Andrew Johnson rolled 41 using 1d100.  Burst 3.
Andrew Johnson rolled 44 using 1d100.  Burst 3.
Andrew Johnson rolled 12 using 1d100.  Burst 2.
Andrew Johnson rolled 98 using 1d100.  Burst 1.
Three hits ?

This message was last edited by the player at 01:08, Sun 01 Dec 2019.

Andrew's fire sent men scrambling to ground looking for cover. He was confident that he nailed one of the Poles in the abdomen with a burst. One other seemed a pretty sure possibility. But, the smoke, the dark stormy morning, and his aching forearm all seemed to confine his chances for a broader success.

Roger moved along, searching out Torv's position just as he heard the first notes of an approaching helicopter. But, it wasn't a snake. It had to deep thump of a Huey tri-rotor. That meant slick.

A medivac! Torv must have called it in.

As he approached the sniper, Roger could see that he was still breathing despite being draped over his rifle in a pool of blood. Kneeling and hoping for the best, Roger was relieved when he rolled Torv over with a groan.

The bullet had passed through his neck behind the collection of nerves and blood vessels just behind the carotid artery and before it could clip the the side of a cervical vertebra. But, it was still a nasty wound.

Next to Torv lay an activated emergency retrieval beacon. One of those type often carried by pilots and air crew members. Combine an active beacon and an incoming chopper and you had a recipe for para-rescue jumpers. They would waste no time in stabilizing Torv.

Feeling confident that help was on the way Castle never the less did what he could for Torv while he waited.

He spoke to the others via radio.

"TOrv took one though the neck. He's holding on and help is on the way. Apparently he had a PJ beacon on him."

The UH-1H slewed off course as it exited the rain. The rain that was chasing it and would soon overtake all of Florida in one of those 'hell or high water' storms.

Mark Tran and James Wolfesbane sat, feet amid duffel bags of explosives, detonators, det-cord, wire, claymores, and off-route mines. They were destined for a road intersection some ten miles inland. A natural defensive lane.

Right.

This part of Florida was too flat and too open to defend against a tank assault without real weapons like ATGMs, tanks, and artillery. But, hey, there was those thirty-six grunts with two recoilless rifles. One of the pararescue jumpers leaned in and shouted over the rotors and storm.

"Listen, we gotta make a stop. An emergency beacon has been fired off by one of the Recondo teams." The man explained. "That mean's it's going to be bad. You two are off loading and we will take the wounded man with us to point Delta to drop off with a medical unit there. You're gear that you leave here will go to the crossroads for drop off with the grunts."

The man sat back to leave the perplexed pair, an engineer and his newly assigned Ranger teammate, staring at the six hundred plus pounds of gear in the floor. It all sounded good at first. A Ranger to spot out the likely places to situate the ordnance and real blaster to set it up.

Now, what, they were being dropped off into a hot LZ along the ingress corridor to be abandoned with a team that has already taken casualties. So long frying pan.

"Stay with him until the choppers get there Keep, we'll keep an eye out here.  See if you can get his long arm and any ammo.  My SMG ain't going to cut it.  Oh and if his helmet is ok I could do with a new one."  Pat replied over the radio.  He knew it was cold but Torv wouldn't need the gear where he was going and he would make sure to return the gear once they had got back to HQ.

Andrew continued to scan the surrounding area while Patrick got the update over the teams coms net. When he was done Andrew added, "We should find shelter once everyone is back together. The house is probably the only viable structure, but I would like to check out the vehicles the Poles were using and make sure none of the little buggers are still around. I can't understand while after a heavy artillery barrage they still want to play defender. Makes you wonder if they are the conscripts we were lead to believe they would be."


-

There morning drew on with agonizing slowness as the recondos waited for the chopper. None would have admitted it was nearer to five minutes than the hour it felt like. But, once it came in everything seemed to change.

The Poles were too many and very experienced. They felt as though the enemy had changed its order of battle in last hours.

The typhoon was pushing the original timetable too far forward. Control, and eventually the initiative, was slipping away. Early casualties like this were a sign of unexpected changes, normally within the capabilities of the troops and the planning, but this was pure happenstance. What Torv hadn't obtain that beacon?

And, with several helicopters passing through the area at a mere hundred feet of altitude in increasingly deadlier conditions, a slick was chancing a pick up and an unplanned drop off at the very location of enemy anti-air assets.

Smoke would be the normal signal, but in this wind and darkness Roger used a handful of IR Chem lights instead. The Huey landed about ten yards away, but PJs were on the ground as soon as the skids were close enough for them to jump.

The crew chief leaned in to the two soldiers and said, "This is your stop gentlemen. Good luck, good hunting."

"They sure as hell didn't act like conscripts, I'm not sure what the hell is going on but I get the feeling someone fucked up.  We should check the Poles for Intel if we can find enough of one.  I seem to remember another building was due south from here, it may be in better condition."

As the helicopter settled close to the ground Mark jumped out, ducked low to avoid the blades spinning overhead even though he knew they were clear of his head. Reaching back inside he started shifting gear out of the chopper to make space for the evac.

"Get it moving Wolfebane, grab and hustle. We don't want to stay exposed here!"

Castle stayed with Torv until he was safely in the helicopter.

The rifle, helmet, and sniper gear he kept.

Once the life threatening situation was dealt with he saw to cleaning and dressing his own wound. Up to this point he really had no idea how bad it was.

"Welcome to the Mud.", was his laconic greeting to the reinforcements (other than sharing the radio frequency they were using).

Grabbing his gear, James looked down to make sure that the ground was safe for him to jump down before getting out. "You should see what happens when a Hind tries to land in a field with claymores pointing skyward." he said as he stepped out. "They can armor the underbelly but they really can't armor the blades."

Making his way to cover, he noticed the injuried guy. "Looks like you had a bad day already. At this rate, the only ones without a Purple Heart are the FNG's. Mine's down in my duffel bag somewhere." James said, observing the wound and accessing the first aid skill of the grunt.

The PJs used the bedside manner they were known for to get to Torv; they shoved past Roger and descended on the wounded man like an Eagle on a rabbit.

"Make room." One of the paramedics said. They were both armed with CAR-15s, however one of them carried a paramedic's kit on his back while his partner lugged the folding stretcher.

Torv lay there, passive and waiting, as the two men quickly looked him over.

"No artery damage. Minimal tissue damage and blood loss. No cervical contact or swelling from the bullet's passage." He looked at Torv's face. "You are one lucky son of a bitch."

The other PJ just nodded as he released and unfolded the stretcher.

"I'm giving you a shot for the pain and a simple bandage." The man over Torv said as he reached into his pockets. "You'll have to hold steady. I'm would put you in a neck brace as a precaution but I'm more worried about internal bleeding and blood pressure problems."

Torv just nodded. He would've shrugged, but that would hurt like hell.

There was a sudden streak of light that looked like a bottle rocket whirling off balance into the morning. Roger sighed. He knew the others would be as well.

"What was that?" One of the Air Force men asked.

If he could have heard the response clearly the PJ would have heard five men say in unison, "An SA-7."

The missile had been fired at a target only visible using the launcher's IR optic. But it was far to low at only a hundred feet off the ground for the missile's seeker to lock on. Ground distortion, they all knew, had saved the day.

"Jesus, you guys really are in a shit storm." The other PJ said as he laid the stretcher out. "Hey, pilot made a call."

Moments later a snake came in, the ripping fire from its tri-barreled cannon drew their attention instantly. A second snake was on the firsts tail and followed up with a short salvo of four 2.75 inch rockets from each of its two pods. The explosions melded with the thunder.

"Rains coming on our heels." A PJ said as the two men lifted the stretcher between. Without another word or so much as a nodded they were moving back to the slick with Torv.

Andrew wiped some of the moisture from the rain off he face as he continued to watch for more signs the enemy were active. The MANPAD launch did not come as a surprise, he knew they had failed to stop the movement of the missiles and the safety of the operators during their initial operation.

His stomach did back flips as he waited for a secondary explosion indicating a hit on one of the transports they had been tasked with protecting and was relived when that did not happen, even more so when the two cobras flew over head and opened up. Hopefully they eliminated the treat for good... turning to the Lieutenant he asked "They might have just done the job for us, fingers crossed. Probably something we should ad to the list to check on."


-

"Something else to add to the list... Peachy" he gave his fellow Brit a wry smile and paused to let things sink in.  "What the hell are we doing fighting Poles in Florida." he muttered slowly shaking his head before wincing again as hiw head wound reminded hi it was there.  "We need to get out of this rain and find somewhere we can hole up for the storm."

In reply to Patrick Walsh (msg # 122):

"Yes agreed, let clear the truck, the partially hidden van and then the house. That should at least give us some breathing space. If we come across and bodies lets check for intel etc... Oh we should pony up any of the ammunition for the heavy MG if any was left."

"Right let get this over with and into cover."

Andrew will lead them out as they begin the sweep.



-

"Aye, let's get moving." Pat responded, then jumping on to the radio "Keep we are moving to clear the vehicles and the building.  Move to our  last position and I'll update you when you get there on current location.

They discovered the truck, what remained of it in several feet of water not far from the seawall. The DShK was intact, and Patric stumbled across six cans of belted 12.7mm ammunition under the tattered bodies of two Polish infantry. Amid the craters near where the fighting took place Andrew found the remains of the old panel van. It hadn't moved in years and had been converted into a makeshift bunkhouse for half a dozen men. Now all that remained was a shrapnel riddles metal box.

They discovered remains for between fourteen and sixteen men. It was difficult to tell since several of the heavy high explosive rounds fell nearly directly on the area where many of the Poles had fallen or were trying to retrieve those that had. The burst launcher for an SA-7 was found and several smaller craters peppered with fine shrapnel showed where a collection of missiles had detonated.

Near the road, some thirty yards behind the where the truck had been parked, an older BRT-60 APC was burning from a very close proximity hit by an HE shell that had ruptured the side of the vehicle and ignited the fuel stored there. More bodies littered the ditch on the opposite side of the road. Men hiding in the two foot deep depression seeking cover from the high explosive shells found themselves shit out of luck when the miss that almost struck directly struck the BTR-60 went off only yards in front of them.

The helicopters had attacked the same group Andrew had fired upon. Andrew and Patric slipped along the few remaining trees, trying to ignore the worst of the morning weather and smoke, when they found the man Andrew had shot. Then they found another, only this man was shot through the eye from the direction of Torv's position. Next to his corpse lay a Dragonov sniper rifle, it's scope clipped by Torv's bullet about an inch up from the rubber eye piece of the PSO4 scope.

Andrew smiled. The old saying about payback being a bitch crossed Patric's thoughts.

But, that was all. For all their firepower, it seemed the snakes simply didn't hit anyone at all. Running the numbers through their heads quickly; fourteen to sixteen at the truck, at least six in the ditch, at a minimum there were three in the BRT-60, two men here.

That made it twenty five to twenty seven dead. That was a platoon!

Back at the landing site the slick was just gaining pitch and easing out over the water. Roger had been ignored as he gathered Torv's unused helmet and his rifle kit. As he watched, two other soldiers struggled under the weather and rotor wash to make their way into some semblance of concealment.

They seemed flustered, no doubt dropped off haphazardly to make room for the wounded sniper. And worse yet, they probably didn't have a real clue as to the situation.

'Well, shit.' Thought Roger.

The ripping shriek of cannon fire being pushed by screaming jet engines blasted the morning startled everyone. Most had heard the sound before, but to have it happen basic right over you was worse. Then it happened again seconds later.

The two A-10 Warthogs from tiny Morgan Field in Cuba zoomed past, angling out of their gun runs even as the heavy brass from the hundred round bursts of their 30mm cannon rained down. In the distance there was a cacophony of bell like impacts as the sub-caliber depleted uranium rounds struck an armored target. Moments later there was the horrific sounding rush of flames as an armored vehicle cooked-off.

Castle strapped his gear back up accounting for the things that were shot away when he was hit.

He couldn't help but look to the sky when the A-10 went to work.

He grumbled under his breath, "I should've been a fuckin' pilot."


He crossed to where the two men had been left.

"Welcome to the Mud. Y'all stayin' or just waitin' for a ride out?", was his laconic greeting to the reinforcements (other than sharing the radio frequency they were using).

ooc: mostly repeated from message #118

As the man approaches Tran gives him a nod of acknowledgment, while picking up and stowing his own gear.
"Far as I know, probably staying. They had to cut short our ride to make the pick up and I doubt they have decided what if anything to do about us. Probably best to stick close til updates come through. If they do."

Looking around for a moment he shrugs.

"Looks like you had a little party here. Still expecting latecommers or party crashers?'"

Andrew took a knee as he surveyed the terrain further on from the edge of the trees. "Well it looks as if the artillery did it's job, the BTR, a few MANPADS and several of the enemy. Do you want to collect up an AK and some magazines, might sit better then the submachine gun ?"

As they searched Andrew had been looking for radio's, NVG's and any intel on the Poles. The radio frequencies would be good if they could procure them.

With that they headed back and removed the Heavy MG, its mount and the ammunition cans into the house.


-

James looked around at the scene. "Who's in charge and whats going on? We fixing to stay here or we heading somewhere else?" he said, examining the area to see where he wanted to dig his foxhole and stash his gear.

"They got pasted pretty good by Uncle Arty but keep your eyes open. If somebody had smoked that many of my buddies I'd be in a big damn hurry to hit 'em back."

He knelt and pointed a knifehand at the house.

"We're holding this position until a larger friendly force arrives. So if Jan or Boris shows up to argue about it we'll have to argue back."


He added to Andrew and Patrick, ++"You ready for us to join you up there Raider 2?"++

While waiting for a response he pointed at Tran...

"Until you get new orders you're Raider 5..."

...and then at Wolfsbane.

"...and you're Raider 6."

I was "I was thinking the same thing, I'll grab the Dragonov as well.  Don't want anyone else picking it up.  We might becable to put the MG on the Rover when we get back." Pat shrugged "But who knows.  Oh see if you can grab some grenades, I got my demo kit with me so we might leave some booby traps behind."  as they searched for anything useful to add to their cache he responded to Keep.

++ Keep this is Gemstone, come on in we are clearing the area and setting up in the big building for some cover from the storm.

"You have a Rover? Nice. Give me a little time and the tools and I can put any kind of mount you want on it.  And yeah, no sense leaving anything sitting around if we have the time to shift it."
With a shrug, Tran gets to work searching and shifting anything found to the indicated house.

OOC: Note that we, Roger, Tran, and Wolfebane, are a considerable distance from Walsh and Johnson. We'll be meeting up with them at the house.


"Alright let's go."

Roger led off toward the house at a good moving pace for a man who had been recently shot.

"A rover, makes it a lot easier to hump around all my toys." James said, indicating his gear. "Got the keys?" has asked, not wanting to make 4 trips to the house from the LZ.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:37, Sat 07 Dec 2019.

As if on queue, the Navy motorman powered up the Zodiac and gave the Recondos a quick, "Craft six-four is r.t.b."

With he smoothly accelerated away riding out the growing swells in Pelicer Creek from the incoming typhoon. It would a tough day for the motorman, typhoon seas and small boats were a dangerous mix.

More helicopters could be heard but not see. The A-10s came back around, the lead plane nosed for another morning ripping gun run while his wingman held off level steady, firing a pair Rockeye air-to-ground missiles. There was an explosion, a secondary explosion, and then roar of another armored vehicle cooking off. Their best guess put the action within a mile of the combined team. Most likely on the access road running to the west.

Once the house was cleared Andrew took a look around the building and went up stairs, he was trying to work out why the Poles had not used it when they were based on the front lawn.

From the second story Andrew watched the A-10 come in for another sweep as soon as he heard and saw the secondary explosions on the access road he went down to the other members of the team. Having introduced himself to the new members when they arrived Andrew jumped right in "It looks as if the Poles are pushing along the access road, possibly with heavy armour, so we probably need to set up and greet them as we possibly won't have air cover for much longer. Thoughts, ideas ?"

"If we could find some locals as well I think their knowledge would be invaluable."
-
This message was last edited by the player at 08:02, Sun 08 Dec 2019.

Joining Andrew at a second story window, Tran pulled out his binoculars scanning the area visible, making mental notes of the layout. Then he focused his attention on the area the A-10s had worked over hoping that he could get a good look despite the smoke.

"You gent's seem to know this area better than I do, it is obvious James and I arent going to be setting those boobie traps and mines on that intersection we were heading to. Heck, I'm not even sure what party favors he unloaded before the slick took off. So what is the job here? Other than stop the bad guys and try not to get shot or captured?"

All the time he is talking he continues to scan looking for movement or signs of activity where the armored vehicles where shot up.

In reply to Mark Tran (msg # 137):

"We were tasked with clearing a hole for the landing forces egress in land. We were told there was a squad of Poles with some MANPADS and the needed to be cleared out, with a little help we achieved that."

"So now it's a matter of holding here until some tells us something different and for some reason the Poles don't seem to be finished with us. From the sounds of it they still have a MBT and a couple of APC's that seem to be trying to come down the road." Andrew waves a hand at the only access to the land they now occupied.

"I think we need to confirm what the A-10s hit and if there are any more of them. So another sweep is probably in order. What do you guys have in the way of anti-tank toys ?"


-

A bevy of machine guns open up in the distance. The calibers are obvious by their muzzle boom and the crack created by their bullets' hyper-sonic passage; 7.62 x 54mmR Soviet general purpose machine guns and 12.7 x 99mm Soviet heavy machine guns.

By the sound of it, easily a dozen PK series general purpose machine guns and at four heavier DShK or Kord heavy machine guns. That most likely meant well armed infantry fighting vehicles, and quite possibly tanks. The arcing sprays of tracers chased harmlessly after the fleeing A10s.

Pat had grabbed an AK and some magazines from the collection he began doing a quick survey of the area around the house looking for ways to defend it and any potential blind spots.  He stopped when the two newcomers and Keep arrived to greet them.  Then he laid eyes on the stuff they were hauling and his eyes lit up.

"Leftenant Walsh, but out here I'm Gemstone on the radio or Raiders if you want the official title.  Are you guys engineers, because that haul of explosives, well wow we are gonna have our own little fourth of July party he speaks with a cultured English accent despite wearing US equipment.

After the introductions are done he will grab Wolfebane and head back outside and start placing a few surprises for anyone who is likely to attack.

OOC:  At this stage probably just the claymores unless he can find a good spot for some more inventive Booms he will also look at siting the DsHK as well.

Roger would take the time to thoroughly scavenge the dead enemy troops and inventory the gear and weapons that could be acquired that way.

It appeared that the Poles had stalled on them main road. A burning T62M, two burning BRDMs, and several burning trucks blocked the road at both ends of the column of troops. Men hustled to gear equipment and vehicles clear of the burning hulks. But, the bulk of the column was trapped on the narrow road by the marshy terrain that would be worse to try to drive in than to wait.

Weapons, binoculars, and eyes all scanned the skies for the A10s. Men filtered out along the sides of the road to hide in the nearby marsh. It would be some time before the fires died down enough to use the other T62M to push the burnt up vehicles out of the road.

It was clear to the team that the terrain favored infantry combat, but a tank was a tank. It was also obvious that the opportunity for time-on-target barrage on the trapped Polish convoy was at hand.

"Pleased to meet you LT.". James said. "yep, an Engineer. Build 'em and wreck 'em."

James looked the collection of explosives, starting with the M66's and thought up a plan for putting the demolitions to their full use. " These are a real pain to set up and I can always use them to blow a hole in a bunker or such for an emergency, going to save these." he said, as he looked over the other items.

"I am not sure if they will be traveling during the night but we have enough to put a real dent into their forces. We could set up an ambush using the road before us as a choke point, just like the A-10 did. Marsh on the sides of the road will channel them into the direction we want. The wheeled APC's might get stuck if they go offroading and we can finish them off from a distance. Hum, we should layer the mines to have the ground pounders get caught by them when the AT mines get the vehicles." he said as he pulled out a brown manual from his pocket.

"If needed, we can have Davie Crockett here punch holes if they try to force their MBT past the ditch since they will be a sitting duck for a few seconds when they try to get out of it."

"Hum, a couple of questions. From what you have seen, do they use the APC's as battle taxis and dismount or do they have the grunts up front and use them as mobile pillboxes? What is a good range for your toys? Do we have an artillery simulator by any chance?" James asked the group as he started drawing a rough plan in the dirt.

OOC:Trip flares to the sides in case they try to flank. Claymores in front of the defensive positions. Save the cratering for the last minute to make it look like artillery.


          | Direction of travel
          V
       |     |
       |     |
     AT|     |AT
     AT| X-X |AT
       |X-X-X|
       |     |
       |     |
AP  AP  AP   AP  AP AP



X-X-X Cratering/Demo charges.

"Hopefully it won't come to that we still have artillery support and it looks as if now is the time to use it."
Andrew handed over the radio to whoever wanted to call in the naval support again as he removed the Charlie G from its hard case and grabbed two of the ammunition carriers. Turning he adds "I am probably going to need a hand with loading this thing, any volunteers ?"


-
This message was last edited by the player at 03:02, Thu 12 Dec 2019.

Roger took the radio.

"If no one else is trained on them I can help with the Goose as soon as I'm done phoning Uncle Arty. Assuming we still need it."

Castle checked his headset and headed out into the night to show the local Poles how much he appreciated being shot for the he-couldn't-really-remember'th time.

"Right sounds like Wolf and I get working on the demolitions, Tran you good to back up Johnson?  Castle you go ahead and radio in, you can read Polish right?" Pat waited for any objections before heading off to get prepare their position.

"Yeah, I have used one of those a couple of times. I can load for you and watch your back while you shoot. I know enough to know where not to stand when you shoot."
Mark flashes a quick smile at that.

"What I wouldn't give for good mortar team of M43s and detailed range info right about now. But it's like my grandfather always said, "if you don't have anything to complain about, you aren't looking hard enough'"

The wind blows with growing fury as the Typhoon crashed ashore a half mile away. The trees bend under the twenty-five plus mile per hour winds. A subtle, almost mystical sound can he heard as if the universe agreed with Tran's grandfather on the winds saying, "Amen, brother."

OCC: Roger will need to make an FO roll, Andrew and Tran should make recon rolls for scouting the area ahead. Wolfebane and Patric need to make recon and combat engineering rolls to spot good places to set up their ordnance and camouflage it well out of sight. You estimate at least thirty minutes bofore you expect enemy contact; ten minutes to take care of the fires and clear the road, another ten minutes to get remounted and reorganized to move out, and another ten minutes to creep close enough to actually make contact with the team.

18:21, Today: Roger A Castle rolled 54 using 1d100.  FOB. Success!

He studied the target site through Torg's night scope before calling in the fire mission.

Pat headed out into the ambush zone, maybe it was the incoming typhoon, maybe it was the ringing in his head, maybe the bandage covering his ear but something felt off.  With a shrug he pushed onward but a nagging doubt sat at the back of his head.

"Wolfesbane, I'm thinking we may need to put the DShk into action so might be an idea to man that after we are done, I'd kill for sandbags right now." Pat added.



Dice Rolls
10:46, Today: Patrick Walsh rolled 8 using 1d100.  Recon roll. Success
10:46, Today: Patrick Walsh rolled 95 using 1d100.  Combat Engineer. Success unless 95 and above is always a fail.

Andrew took it as slow as he could while leading their team forward looking for signs of the enemy and hopefully going undetected as they moved into position.

Andrew Johnson rolled 11 using 1d100.  RECON.

Setting up Andrew would try to find a position that gave him good coverage of the kill zone they were forming and some cover. He looked for a fallen log or rocks, even a large tree still standing if he has to and there are no other options.

Once in place he uses the sight on the Carl Gustav to get some distances in their newly formed ambush and then he waits.

In cover, prone waiting
Sergeant Johnson
M-3 Carl Gustav [1/1 FFV551 84mm HEAT]
Holding fire while looking for a target.

-

Moving along with Johnson, Tran makes use of any terrain features that make it possible to remain under cover while moving forward to a spot where they could view the Polish forces. Once they stop he settles in and pules out a pair of bifocals to scan the area ahead of them for any sign of the enemy.

Mark Tran rolled 69 using 1d100 ((69)). Recon
failure vs 50

In cover, Prone
Sergeant Tran
M16A2 [10/10]
M203 [1/1 HEDP]
Holding fire
This message was last edited by the player at 01:41, Fri 13 Dec 2019.

"Tell you what LT, you tell me where to put them and I will rig them up Sir." James said, not trusting anyone but himself when it came to explosives.

"As for a defensive position, start setting it up. I can grab some loose cinder blocks from the house, or come up with something to fortify it. I can pack them full of dirt in a pinch." he added.

22:02, Today: James Wolfebane rolled 69 using 1d100.  Cbt engineering 80% or less.

22:02, Today: James Wolfebane rolled 85 using 1d100.  Recon 45% or less.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:49, Fri 13 Dec 2019.

OOC: new map, workout a plan and where, in general, you plan to lay out any welcoming gifts for your new Polish neighbors.

As the rain began fall with the fury of the winds, thunder rolled across the dark sky momentarily blocking all other sounds. From the sea the heavy crashing of waves made a noise like plastic sheets popping in the wind. Out of this maelstrom of sound came the sky tearing passage of twenty, ninety pound high explosive shells. A split second later a new thunder could be heard.

The artillery came in tight, a bit to the right, but still well placed. The explosions seemed almost indistinguishable. But, there were several other explosions, off key, milder in their report but deeper in their fury. Secondaries, many secondaries.

It would be a living hell near the Princess Place Covered Bridge this morning.

Roger watched the fireworks with some satisfaction and radioed to update the gunners on the effectiveness of their fire mission.

Andrew turned to the new comers "You guys are the experts in this, just point us in the right direction and were you want us to set up your gear and we will get to it. If we could shear off some of the infantry initially and then take out the armour ? And maybe get another naval barrage ready to go and mix in some airbursts ?" Andrew looked to Castle as to whether that is a go.

"Then those of us with anti armour can wait and hope nothing makes it through....."


-

Over the storm the sound of diesel engines became noticeable, they were coming. And by the sound of he clanking tracks it was obvious the Poles had some armor with them. The sound of a splitting tree truck was punctuated by the crashing it made as it fell, heavy armor was on its way as well.

The whine of a turbo charged diesel pierced the noise after several minutes; an improved model such as one the Pole's T62Ms was on its way. Tanks meant escorting infantry on foot. A soldier's pace; walking slowly along trying to spot danger before it meant death. The team had little time, but there was still a few minutes before the lead elements made it to where Princess Place split off to the north.

Making a last minute check of the connections, James got ready to crater the roadway once the tank was on top of the charges.

Pat ran a last minute check to ensure he was as ready as he could be he took a position close to Wolfesbane and trusted that other members of the team knew their jobs.  "OK Raiders here they come everyone in position?" he said over the radio.

Mark settled into the soggy ground next to Johnson, checking one last time that the rockets for the Carl Gustav were positioned just right so there would be no snags or hiccups during reloading, and then went back to scanning the area watching for movement.
When Walsh requested the status update he keyed the mike "Raider 6, in position."

Speaking softly to Johnson, trusting the sound of the storm to provide cover, "That sounds like there is still a lot of armor.", sounding almost mater of fact as he continues his scanning for the enemy.

Andrew settled behind cover with Tran and the Charlie G. Now they just had to wait and see what sort of effect the fireworks have..... before hopefully just moping up the left overs. Andrew was not confident on the last statement, these things have a habit of going south and he doubted they could take on one MBT, let alone one along with APC's and their dismounted infantry.

He gave Tran a thumbs up and made sure he was off to the side with a couple of spare rounds for the launcher.


-
This message was last edited by the player at 22:36, Wed 25 Dec 2019.

The first signs of the enemy came along the Princess Place access road. Two lines of troops skirting either side of the road were moving at a fast march towards the site where the firefight had taken place. It looked to be at least two platoons worth, maybe a little more.

The sounds of armor were approaching much faster than anticipated, that was until an off-route mine fired. Unseen for the trees, the vehicle immediately exploded catastrophically with the familiar ping-whoosh of an armored vehicle cooking up, then came the crack-boom as ammunition, fuel, and trapped air all combusted at once under the pressure of the tank hull. A pressure cooker off and explosion that sent a huge fireball into the sky and was accompanied by metal clanging crash of a turret impacting with the trees and ground.

A tank. It was a tank. Had to have been a tank. Nothing else but a tank's turret made such a sound. Hearts were lifted. At least that was one less threat to deal with.

There was the almost overlooked sound of engines idling down rapidly, the screeching of breaks, and the crack of trees being rammed by speeding vehicles.

James hunkered down, ready to do his job as the enemy came forward. Having set up the mines, he pulled out his mine card and referenced it from where the explosion occurred. "One hundred dollar mine, meet half a million dollar tank." he muttered as he crossed himself with a quick prayer for the departed foes.

With the launcher on his shoulder and loaded there was little else Andrew could do but wait, so that is what he did. From cover he and Tran looked for one of the vehicles they could hear in the distance to appear.


Andrew Johnson
Kneeling behind cover
Carl Gustaf 84mmN [1/1 FFV-551 HEAT]
Searching for a target.


-

Now that the sound and fury had located the enemy once again Roger called in another fire mission so that they would know just how welcome they were in this area.

"Gonna be more arty incoming. Watch you heads."

After several minutes of waiting a static laden message came back over the radio, "Confirmation of strike coordinates. Expected time to fire upon your target is two minutes, forty seconds. Red star shell will precede incoming ordnance by thirty seconds."

Ahead of them, coming through the scattered magnolias and clumps of native blueberry and honeysuckle the dug in defenders could begin to make out the movement of Polish infantry, moving by fire teams in bounding overwatch, as they advanced a bit laterally to the house.

OOC: the Polish infantry is moving in a direct path through sector 7 in the center of the map, and from just above the crossroads there, on their way into sector 5 in the upper right corner of the map. They are moving in good form, teams spaced out about thirty yards apart laterally, with bounding teams within fifteen yards of each other. The men on the ground are standard issue infantry with Ak74s, RPK 74s, the occasional PK LMG or BG15 grenade launcher, and a handful of AKRs. There isn't any signs of sniper rifles, rocket launchers, ATGMs, or flame throwers. They appear to be dismounted heavy infantry.

Roger unsheathed Torv's sniper rifle and began looking through it's night scope for people giving orders.

Scanning the trees and underbrush as the teams bound forward, Roger sees that they move in good order making good use of available cover and concealment. He can make out small teams that travel along just behind the bounding units and soon makes out the divisions of squads and platoons denoting these smaller groups as the platoon leaders, whether they are senior non-coms or junior officers is unclear, but they are moving along with a radio man and what appears to be a spare man without a rifle, most likely a medic or engineer under normal doctrine.

The range varied, based on the angle the and actual direction of each spotted team of enemy grunts. But, Roger was reasonably sure that the hear of the the Poles avenue of approach was only five hundred fifty meters at about a forty degree angle from the house. It did occur to him that the sight atop Tarv's rifle would not be zeroed to his particular eyesight and hold, he would have to pay particular attention to the fall of his shots or have someone else do so. (RCN -20 to self spot or RCN for a spotter to spat fall of shots, CRM or GS to re-calibrate sight zero based on observed info).

Since I think evryone else is busy I will adjust the sight.

18:05, Today: Roger A Castle rolled 26 using 1d100.  Sight Adjustment vs GS.

Successful!

As the infantry started moving through Tran made sure Jackson saw them as well, silently pointing them out. So far they are no immediate threat but when the CG let loose they would draw all kinds of attention.
Settling in just a little lowerinto cover he waited to see if any of the armor would move forward or if the infantry started looking this way.

OOC:
In cover, Prone
Sergeant Tran
M16A2 [10/10]
M203 [1/1 HEDP]
Holding fire

With the rumble of diesel engines and the clank of metal treads, the armor began rolling forward once again. In the distance, through the very bleary clearings between their positions and the Princess Place road leading roughly northeast, a pair of BRDM armored cars could be seen carefully moving forward.

The lead BRDM was an old, original model with the high exhaust ports that smoked like a coal furnace and was fitted with a wide metal frame that held a metal plate out in front of it. It was a device invented to trigger off route anti-armor mines to fire into the plate ahead of the vehicle. It sported to crudely rounded holes made by self forming projectiles already. It's compact turret mounted a pair of PK machine guns, a spotlight, and tall whip antenna.

The second BRDM was a newer model, often referred to as a BRDM 1, and had a large aerial mounted on the back of a squat turret housing a high elevation 14.5mm heavy machine gun. Standing in an open hatch atop the turret, the vehicle commander seemed to be more interested in threats from the air than from the ground.

OCC: That is where Princess Place Road runs up through the sectors 8 and 5 I believe on its way towards sector 3. They are visible above the horseshoe shaped side road along Princess Place in sector 5. I think, irregardless, it is a fair shot of around five hundred meters or so and it would appear that the BRDMs are checking the road for more off route mines now, it also highlights the movement of Polish infantry, which easily exceed 300 judging by what can be seen, at least a company supported by quite a bit of armor. I'll double check the map.

As the minutes ticked by and the Polish forces drew nearer the combined team began to sweat despite the cold and wet morning in the typhoon induced storm. The tense minutes carried on, feeling like hours, until the artillery came tearing through the stormy skies with a ripping sound.

There was no red star cluster to signal the incoming fire. There was no radio call confirming the fire missions initial shots, nor was the fire mission on time at seventeen minutes past the expected time of fire. But, it came in fast.

The 2.75 inch mount on the destroyer was capable of firing twenty shots in just under thirty six seconds at maximum rate of fire. It killed any ability to control the spread of the shots due to the rocking recoil impulse on the ship. None the less, the naval cannon fired for one hundred and eleven seconds. High explosive shells rained down. At first it was obvious that the barrage was fired too long. The second salvo, coming behind the first with an impressively short delay to change out the ready magazine, was more on target but too scattered about. Nerves cracked when the incoming hypersonic rounds for the third barrage went 'quiet' prior to their arrival.

Dropping for cover, the team hunkered down as the last barrage of shells short of the enemies specified position, actually hitting some the units that had advanced from the target zone, and fell as closely as twenty five meters from the house. Roger was just glad he had given very accurate firing instructions before hand. Especially if this was the result of a fire mission rushed after much delay.

It would take several minutes for the smoke to clear despite the storm. But, there were at least two fires burning now that had been Polish vehicles of some fashion before the barrages fell.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:50, Wed 01 Jan 2020.

Patrick hunkered down as the shells fell from the supporting destroyer. His heading ringing despite the earlier painkillers.  As the shelling came to a stop he stayed low breathing deeply trying to bring his heart rate down before taking up the fight again.

OOC:
In cover, Prone
Lt Walsh
AK-74 [10/10]
Holding fire

Andrew continued to scan the ground ahead of them, he watched the two vehicles until the in coming artillery barrage forced his head behind cover. Once the three salvos were finished he again resumed watching the ground ahead of the team looking for a viable target.


Andrew Johnson
Kneeling behind cover
Carl Gustaf 84mmN [1/1 FFV-551 HEAT]
Searching for a target.


-

Tucking himself deep into the ground, James prayed that none of the shells hit him. Once the barrage was over, he shook his head to clear out the ringing in his ears and started looking for targets.



James Wolfbane
Kneeling behind cover
Manning DShk [17/17]
Searching for a target.

Directly ahead of the house the Poles were regaining their composure and their sense of where they could be observed from. (Moving directly from the wooded area under the numeral 6 in sector 6 headed east towards the house across Princess Place Road). A rumbling hulk emerged from the smoke and shadows of the rain whipped trees, an old Russian made T62m.

It is flanked by bounding teams of infantry, two platoons in strength. A quick count reveals thirty-three troops in fire teams of three men. Among them are pair of PK machine guns, half a dozen BG15 grenade launchers, and a single man who appears to be an officer armed with a PPSh 41 submachine gun. The turret of the tank begin to whirl to its right as the main gun depresses towards the house.

The tanks suddenly stops, but the anticipated shot never comes. The tank suddenly reverses, steering to it left rear, then stops and lurches forward again. The length of the main gun had nearly struck a tree. The vehicle had to reversed and re-oriented in order to bring the gin around to aim towards the house.

It dawned on the little collection of soldiers that it was a later production model developed for export that had been retrofitted with a very long barreled 100mm cannon developed for firing fin discharging sabot rounds at stupid-high velocities. Hearts lifted, no high explosive rounds were ever developed for it.

There was a thunderous crash and strode-like muzzle flash. A ground level contrail of gun debris followed the hyper-sonic track of the sabot. it struck the house just to the side of a chimney. The projectile exited the rear wall of the house before the 'slap' of the round passing through the first brick wall was even heard.

Like everyone else in the vicinity Andrew heard the Russian main battle tank before he saw it and he had hoped that perhaps they had all been wiped up by the Naval gunfire. Alas no and as the firing of the main gun proved it was still an effective fighting force even if out matched by every US tank in the field, none of which they now had.

Andrew checked the range and bounced the laser off the tank before waiting for it to come into range.

He knew he had fluffed the shot even before the rocket was down range. As he dropped behind cover he said reload to Tran.

Andrew Johnson rolled 84 using 1d100. Miss


-

The sight of the T62m rolling forward took Tran's breath away. The shockwave blast as it fired was both awe inspiring and terrifying. He could only hope the others were out of the way and undamaged.

As Johnson fires it is hard not to flinch as the backblast drom the CG flashes behind them. As soon as Johnson fires he is ready, reload in hand and ready to go he starts the process of feeding the beast for the next shot while trying to keep his head down.

OOC shoving a rocket into the pipe!

Castle draws a bead on the officer.

In reply to Roger A Castle (msg # 178):

OCC: Since we are not using the normal rounds with their segments, just assume that you will be aiming for long enough to line up a shot, out to 300 meters it shouldn't be much more than a handful of seconds. Keep it to firing on a single target with a single shot and we'll consider it aiming. Sound fair?

With help of the excellent rifle and scope Roger put a bullet into the Polish officer.

23:24, Today: Roger A Castle rolled 89 using 1d100.  CRM. Hit!

Seeing one of the combat teams running around with a PK machine gun, James cut loose a burst from the DShk, shredding them before they could find cover.

01:25, Today: James Wolfebane rolled 3 using 1d100.  HW 50.
I was thinking that machine guns are under HW. My CRM is 50. Outstanding Success I believe.

OOC: The heavy machine gun would fall under your CRM. Heavy weapons mainly covers things like mortars, rocket launchers, artillery, grenade launchers, rifle launched grenades, recoilless rifles, etc. But a 3 is still a 3. Just a note, aiming uses the full value of a skill for the aimed shot, while normal combat uses a percentage of skill based on range. 60% of skill for short range (basic weapon range), 30% of skill at medium range (double basic range), and 10% of skill for long range (double medium range), some weapons can fire at extreme range like sniper rifles firing aimed shot and machine guns firing from a tripod (considered to be using a traverse and elevation mechanism) and use the 10% of skill. The DShK is inside its medium range to engage the enemy that Wolfbane can see at the moment, CRM 50 (30/15/5/5). Weapons have a rate of fire, that is how many times you are allowed to engage with it. It is considered to be firing a 'shot' of three rounds, either a burst of automatic fire or several rapid rounds of semi-automatic fire. you rolled for each shot you fire. That is why weapons have odd listings for ammo capacity.

Several Poles move forward, headed for a slight rise to use as a quick position for their PK machine gun. However, several yards short of their point of defense and bust of heavy machine gun fire sent tracers arching through then gunner as he ran between his two comrades. The heavy bullets punched through the man as though they had missed, but he fell instantly to the ground as if he was a machine that had simply lost power.

Nearly two hundred yards from the falling machine gunner a Polish officer was moving along with his radio man when a 7.62mm bullet struck him in the arm. He fell in reaction, but quickly scrambled about to find cover behind a magnolia. It seemed that this was not his first encounter with snipers or being wounded in action. The Pole's reaction impressed Roger, it took experience and a certain sense of calm to not simply lose all sense of the situation when getting shot, after all.

The T62m shot forward, the commander closed his hatch as he descended into the turret. Nest the the main gun's barrel a burst of machine gun fire from a PK machine gun sent a bevy of tracers towards the house. Bullets ripped the trees and bushes but fell short of the structure. But, it was soon obvious what was happening; it was searching fire looking for concealed troops.

Pat held his fire, the enemy was too far away for him to confidently hit. He took aim at on of the machine gunners and waited until he looked to be setting up. Then fired a single burst his way.

10:26, Today: Patrick Walsh rolled 25 using 1d100.  AK74 aimed shot at MG CRM60.

As Andrew waited for the Charlie G to be reloaded he could feel the water from the recent rain begin to soak into the side of his fatigues. With the humidity still quite high it would only be a matter of minutes to dry out, even less if they were running for there lives back past the house. When Tran gave him the signal he was reloaded Andrew righted himself again and drew a bead on the tank as he again sent the laser down range.

When he thought he had a clear shot Andrew said in a whisper "Firing." to give Tran the chance to get out of the back blast if he had not already. Once the rocket was away Andrew quickly grab the small amount of gear on the ground before starting off to a secondary position, he waited for Tran and let him lead the way.


Andrew Johnson rolled 55 using 1d100. = HIT.



-
This message was last edited by the player at 01:30, Mon 13 Jan 2020.

Hoping to keep the fire teams pinned down, James did not hit much of anything but the air and the ground with the machine gun rounds.

22:02, Today: James Wolfebane rolled 96,32,25 using d100,d100,d100.  CRM 15 or less.

A Polish soldier scramble around to take up the PK machine gun dropped by his comrade. He received a trio of 5.45mm bullets in the chest for his trouble. The recoil went unnoticed by Patric as he exhaled, relieved that the man never made it to the weapon.

Tran covered his ears and scanned the area, there were more Poles than he first spotted. Many of them were firing on the duo's previous position with gusto. A flash of sparks from the tank's turret drew his eyes. As he and Andrew watched the commander's and loader's hatched atop the turret sprang open from the internal over-pressure caused by the penetration.

Smiles creased both muddy faces, but there wasn't a secondary blast. The tank stopped rolling, but the crew was probably in mild shock. Compression induced psychosis caused by the over-pressure could turn the toughest tanker into a drooling idiot for several minutes. Smoke began drift from the interior in a thin rising tendril. It was a small fire, probably a burning piece of equipment such a electronics or personal items.

Andrew sighed, he had missed the turrets ready ammo storage. But, he was confident in the fact that the tank crew was out of action for bit, if not actually wounded as well. There was a tug on his shoulder as Mark, still watching and hoping for the tank to suddenly brew up, began reloading the recoilless out habit.

The hammering report of the DShK HMG was terrible under trees. James would most definitely be popping some pain relievers soon. And drinking about twenty gallons of water to slake his thirst. Why did these big guns have to get so hot? Men dove for cover as heavy bullets shattered centuries old magnolias like someone had place small explosives inside them.

The return fire was impressive.

Quite literally thousands of rounds ripped the morning, and the trees, the bushes, the house, the old cars left in the parking area, and even the hasty berms and sand bag walls. Tracers arced into the surroundings, but the only thing that came close was a red tracer laden burst of rifle fire that literally severed the belt of heavy bullets feeding into the side of the DShK. James couldn't decide if he was more impressed by such a coincidental hit or that a crate full of rounds had missed him personally.

Roger, concealed towards the back of their line, even experienced some close impacts as bullets meant for he didn't know whom landed about his in the shadows and scrub brush. He had lost sight of the Polish officer after the man took to cover. But he did notice one thing; a vague outline far back in the backdrop of stormy forest that resembled a recon vehicle.

Roger cursed silently as bullets rained all over the place. He had lost sight of the officer so he zeroed in on the radio man and tried to angle his shot so that it would pierce the man and his radio rig.

04:23, Today: Roger A Castle rolled 26 using 1d100.  CRM. Hit.

Once that shot had scored he decided it was time to move to a new location and he rolled out of his spot and crawled toward it.

Patrick moved to his backup position crawling and hoping not to get a round in the butt as he went.  The numbers that were coming had him worried about being overrun they were after all only five men and the defenses they had placed didn't seem to be stopping the oncoming Poles.

Andrew continued to move to his secondary position keeping as low as possible and orientated the launcher as quickly as possible once they arrived. It was obvious that they were up shit creek, the return fire zipping around them was testament to that. They needed an air strike or possibly another naval barrage, but by the time that was worked up they would probably be overrun.

He zapped the tank with the laser for the third time and then aimed at the hulking iron beast waiting to be sure he had a hit.

Andrew Johnson
prone behind cover
Carl Gustaf 84mmN [1/1 FFV-551 HEAT]
Searching for a target.

Andrew Johnson rolled 89 using 1d100. = JC come on!

OOC: I don't think I can fit all this in one round, but it looks as if everyone else is moving as well so hopefully this is OK.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:05, Thu 23 Jan 2020.

Opening up with the remaining rounds on the belt before having to reload, more trees got turned into splinters as James tried shooting the nearest threats.

06:35, Today: James Wolfebane rolled 88,76 using d100,d100.  Closest fire team <37. 

Tran moved along from their original firing position to their secondary spot. As they moved along he initially was as close to one with the mushy ground as possible but one they reached the designated spot he rose up slightly to start scanning for target positions and any infantry coming their way.

OOC
Prone in cover
M16 10/10
M203 1/1 HEDP
17:15, Today: Mark Tran rolled 17 using 1d100 ((17)). Vs 50
Looking for targets and infantry

An off-route mine fired, it was immediately accompanied by the blast of an armored vehicle cooking off. The noise was off, to low in tone for the volatility of a tank's ammunition, but it was satisfying none the less. The poles seemed to staggered as a whole for a moment; that moment of realization that they'd possibly just walked into an ambush.

A series of Claymore mines suddenly erupted to life as an unsuspecting Polish infantryman knelt to close to a tripwire and set of a daisy chain of mines. Men yelled curses and screamed in agony. Unseen to the defenders. Yet, it was a satisfying cacophony.

Orders rang out along the Polish line as seasoned NCOs took charger and ordered teams to halt and go to ground. Only the tank continued forward. The T62m's powerful white light spotlight came to life sending a bright cone of light into the gloom and rain of the morning. It's turret tracked the light around looking for targets, or signs of them, to engage.

Another shot, another miss. Andrew is ready to chuck the launcher over the cover and make a run for it in the opposite direction. As it is it was time to move again and find another spot, or to continue on. They had made little impact to the scores of infantry in front of them and before long they would be overwhelmed.


-

With the enemy going to ground, James used the time to slap on a fresh belt of ammo, wondering what defenses were left for them to find.

Popping up from cover to asses the situation Pat was concerned about the T-62 that seemed to still be coming their way despite the best efforts of the Charlie Gutsache crew.  the defenses seemed to slow the infantry down but for how long.

Time to check in with HQ and see if they could get another artillery barrage or at least find out how long until reinforcements arrived. "Keep, can you get on the blower and see if we can get another round of artillery and how much longer we are going to need to hold. I don't want to have to go after the Tank with a bayonet."

OOC: Recon Roll to look for targets
00:46, Today: Patrick Walsh rolled 18 using 1d100.  Recon 50.

The Poles were wising up to the fact that their hasty advance was about to become far too costly. These NATO troops were just too good at their job to be pushed around by blunt force. Orders were shouted along the line of teams. Handheld spotlights came on, the tank's power searchlight scanned about, and flares went up.

It was the flares that caught everyone's attention; their weren't parachute type flares for illumination. They were signal flares. The poles were marking their location to their own observers. The reality brought on a sickening feeling. The combined team's members all had enough experience to know that the Poles would soon be dropping artillery barrages of their own.

As teams called from one to another among the magnolias and scrub brush the rumble of diesel engines announced the creeping introduction of a pair of older BRDM 1 armored cars armed with KPV 14.5mm heavy machine guns and powerful searchlights. Smoke grenades were tossed about as if they were being used to celebrate contact with the enemy. Men could soon be heard shuffling through brush, some could be occasionally glimpsed.

To the south more vehicles could be heard moving again. The main body of the convoy had evidently cleared the last of the mines and was moving again. A grinding of gears and the rumble of a diesel drew attention to a ZSU-23-4 Shilka as it drove along the distant expanse of Princess Place Road headed for the site of the original gunfight.

A whistle blew and the T62M began to rumble forward at a waling pace. It all came together at once; the Poles were setting a trap for the main body of the NATO invasion trying to use this single team as bait to lure in any unit willing to move into its reach.

THe Poles settled in at 120 meters distance from the house is a roughly parallel line of small teams. It would only be a matter of moments before they began their assault onto the immediate area of the house.

Well it was now or never and after the lazer beam gave him a reading Andrew watched as the tank lumbered back into life, it treads initially throwing up some dirt and mud from the rain. After aiming Andrew did not check to see if Tran was out of the way, instead giving a verbal warning of "Firing.". It was at this point that Andrew pulled the trigger and felt the punch back in to his shoulder to confirm a successful firing and the rocket was away, hopefully to it's target.

As Tran was reloading the Carl Gustaf recoilless rifle with one of the HE rounds Andrew got on the team coms net "All call signs, we need another bout of rolling thunder if its available, out."

With that he again shouldered the launcher and looked for another target.

Andrew Johnson
Talking a knee and aiming at tank.
Carl Gustaf 84mmN [1/1 FFV-551 HEAT]
Firing on tank.


Andrew Johnson rolled 48 using 1d100. = Hit.



-

Roger called in another fire mission from the ship. 120 meters was very very close, especially considering how far off target they had been a couple of times so far, but he knew exactly where the enemy was for the first time.

After the usual exchange of call signs and code phrases he added,

"I need ya to give 'em the whole dick this time fellas, balls deep!"

To the ad hoc team he continued,

"Watch your heads fellas. When this happens it's gonna be fuckin' loud!"

Turning his attention to the nearest enemy fire team, James took careful aim at the grunt that appeared to be leading them, hoping that the others decided it was time to leave.

21:07, Today: James Wolfebane rolled 28 using 1d100.  Aim CRM 50.

"Wolfebane move north of the house and get into cover, I'll follow when your in position.  Let's be ready to move people I don't want another casualty." came across the radio.  The Poles were being to clever for Pat's liking so time to change tactics.

He waited for Wolfesbane to get north of the house before moving himself trusting to the enemies smoke the darkness of night and luck to get them out of the main line of the expected artillery and assault.

"Fire Mission confirmed, expected time of initiation of mission three minutes." A static laden voice came over the radio. It became increasingly garbled as the man continued to speak. "...ratio of three to one....star cluster at predetermined coordinates....within one hundred meters.....How copy? Over."

Roger's agitation was only complicated when the canvas ripping sound of artillery passed overhead headed behind them to the east. He sighed.

Andrew's head tracked the sound as it past, too long, but not by that much. At least two batteries of heavies, 152mm at least, by the sounds of it.

Mark sat back on his heels, relieved, at least the first volley was off target. He had been in mortars long enough to know that firing long and walking the follow on barrages back towards friendly lines was nothing unique to either side. But, it was damned devastating if done correctly.

Patric's heart skipped a beat, he had just fore-warned everyone about the risks. These damned Poles seemed to know a thing or two after all.

It was the resounding crash of eight nearly simultaneous explosions some two hundred meters or so behind him to the east that got Wolfbane's attention. He had been fixated on the last target s he had spotted and the hammer muzzle report of the DShk gun was something unto itself. When the crash of heavy artillery shells took him by surprise he sent the final few rounds of his fire into the storm darkened predawn sky.

"Shit!" Pat exclaimed as the enemy artillery began dropping shells, the rounds where landing long but not by much.  He had left the fallback orders too late and he hoped that the rapidly prepared defenses would keep the group alive.  He wanted to run now but until he saw Wolfesbane go past his position he knew he had to stay put.

Grabbing his gear, James headed for cover near the house. Once in position, he got his HK-CAW ready for action.

Andrew watched the rocket from the carl gustav towards the Russian main battle tank, waiting for the impact before they will depart to be out of the danger zone for their own incoming rounds and hopefully the incoming Russian ones, hopefully..


-

There was a resounding wong-crack and an impressive shower of fiery sparks as the warhead of the 84mm round detonated against the side of the T62m's turret. There wasn't a glowing bolt of ricocheting molten metal. No, the shaped charge round's jet of molten copper and super-heated gases had pierced the armor. An instant after the impact came the crump-pop off internal over-pressure as it blew the loader's hatch in the turret roof. The low, thick steel cupola came free from the top of the turret just as the itself came open.

A slight glare from inside the turret gave hope to an internal fire. Men near the vehicle shouted out of surprise and fear, many diving for new cover in anticipation of the tank brewing up. The commander's hatch swung open and the man lumbered out as if dazed and rolled off the back of the turret. Moments later the driver's hatch popped up and the driver crawled forward until he tumbled drunkenly to the ground as another member of the turret crew clambered out of the commander's hatch, most likely the gunner, and skidded down onto the engine deck and rolled over to fall to the ground as if in shock.

It was the effects of percussive stunning and shock mixed with fear of dying in a burning tank. Brains rattled by intense percussion, nerves rattled be fear of a gruesome death; men reacted out of experience and not reason. But, it did save lives. So long as the tank didn't turning into a pressure cooker of fuel, munitions, and super-heated air before hand.

At best guess, Andrew figured he just took out the loader, the radio station, some internal stores for the crew, and probably one the sets of turret electrical lines. But, it did get the crew out of the tank. For now anyway.

James made it to the house just in time to witness the impact on the tank's turret. It was both heart lifting and maddening when the tank didn't turn into a fireworks display. Moving to a low spot near the foundation behind the house he quickly burrowed into the overgrown bushes and worked at catching his breath.

Back in the depths of shadow and foliage, Roger  raised the night vision sight in time to see the approach BRDMs slow and stop. Evidently, the thought of charging into an anti-tank round was more than they bargained for. But, their spotlights were intensely bright as they tracked along the trees looking for signs of the anti-tank team.

Andrew moved with Tran back from their earlier position to set up somewhere new. With all anti-armour rounds now exhausted with a startlingly poor to hit rate. Andrew decided to try to take out one of the APC's, but again his poor skill with the weapon system let him down and the rocket flew off to who knows where


Andrew Johnson rolled 98 using 1d100.  To Hit, 6 shots 2 hits = :(


-

It was a relief seeing Wolfebane loop back behind him.  He gave him a little time to find cover before he followed suit and headed towards the fall back point.

"Stay right there you mother f***ers..."

Roger growled to himself as he saw the enemy AFVs stop. He was tempted to start shooting out spotlights but didn't relish pointing a night scope at a light of that power nor did he think it was a good idea to dismount the night sope just yet.

On the radio he added,

"That last shot got their BRDMs to pause. Don't leave that f***in' HMG functional when you fall back from it."

He scanned the area between his team and the enemy to see if he needed to discourage any Poles from overly enthusiastic pursuit.

There was a sudden scream of a high velocity projectile overhead from the east and a red star cluster burst into life.It's arc was perfect, carrying the glowing sphere directly over the house to pass out over the middle of the Polish infantry's advance. If the timing was as spot on as the shot, then their would be a follow on barrage of nineteen high explosive shells packing nearly nighty pounds of hells-a-coming each in less than a minute.

It was both exhilarating and terrifying. And, it wasn't lost on the team that there was more than likely another barrage from the 152mm artillery supporting the Poles on its way as well. Two barrages of artillery fire targeting the same area, and the team was smack dab in the middle of it all.

Nowhere seemed any safer than anywhere else so Roger just thought mole-like thoughts and tried to burrow into the side of the hill he was laying on.

Andrew got down and close to the cover they have been using, as close as possible. Then he waited for their end or a delay of the inevitable and the chance to run away.


-

23:49, Today: Roger A Castle rolled 63 using 1d100.  FOB.

Success by the skin o' my teeth.

Roger watched as the star cluster burnt out and fell away in the storm's fierce winds. Then it occurred to him. The Winds!

Doing some quick, sloppy-assed math in his head Roger realized that the wind was more than ether gunnery officer had accounted for. The Poles were using too much muscle to fine into the wind and were overshooting. The Navy was shooting using too much muscle, too, allowing their shots to be taken just a bit too far ahead of their target.

He sighed. With any luck the teams' fallback positions were inline with the crossover area under each of the incoming barrages' trajectory. Another storm was coming, one of shrapnel and fire. But, he was pretty sure it would not be a storm that fell on their heads.

Now, if mother nature would just let up for a moment.

Staying down Andrew quickly equalised his ears and then covered his head as he waited for the numerous shock waves to flow over their position.

-
This message was last edited by the player at 10:21, Sun 09 Feb 2020.

Pat stayed low there was little if anything he could do until the big guns finished playing.  It was moments like these that he wished he believed in a higher power.  Instead he went with his usual mantra of "Shit, shit, shitty, shit!"

Tense minutes passed.

The sun peaked through the roiling thunderstorm for a heartbeat; sunrise had finally came along. That would mean that the landing was nearly completed, that real on the ground support would be close enough to offer assistance soon.

Then came the shriek of incoming Soviet artillery. The heavy 152mm shells made a ripping sound as they passed overhead. And immediately faded out in the ear rattling passage of incoming NATO artillery from offshore.

The morning suddenly turned into a riot of deafening explosions and a cascade of shrapnel, wood slivers, pulverized stone, and waves of percussive over-pressure. Lacerations, perforations, contusions, swelling, and bleeding became the order of the day. While they had suffered no major injuries, the team members would spend some time removing bits of shrapnel and debris from their various minor wounds while their noses and ears seemed to slowly bleed.

The aches, especially Patric's invigorated headache, were terrible. Their radios, night vision devices, weapon's optics, canteens, and other small electronic devices payed the price as percussive force disconnected leads, cracked lenses, ruptured fluid filled containers, ruptured vacuum seals, displaced rubber gaskets, and shattered digital displays.

The NATO barrage had fallen within thirty meters west of the team but it ripped the guts from the Polish Infantry's attack. Several vehicles were burning. Corpses littered the ground as if they had been haphazardly dropped from the sky. Secondary explosions caused by ignited rockets, grenades, and ammunition had killed many. Both of the BRDMs were aflame, but the T62m still stood its ground. Its hatches were still open from where the crew had bailed out and it was obvious that engine wasn't running.

Behind the team to the east the heavy 152mm shells from the Pact barrage had landed mostly in trees and bog. Luckily for the team. It was a scene reminiscent of the old black and white photos of the Somme or Belau Wood.

Andrew lay still for awhile as he caught his breath. Turning over he check on this team mate Tran was ok before doing a quick check on his gear that was accessible. He checked the teams comms net and his radio before giving the all clear for Tran and himself to the rest of the team. Rubbing himself down to remove the debris Andrew looked out over their cover and scanned the battlefield in front of them.

It looked as if all the heavy and light armour had been accounted for and that a considerable amount of the dismounted infantry had also been caught in the firestorm. Using the magnified sight on the Charlie G Andrew tried to see if the Russian ZSU-23-4 "Shilka" was operational that they had spotted earlier.


Andrew Johnson
Sitting while scanning for threats.
Carl Gustaf 84mmN [1/1 FFV441 HE]
Looking for the Russian Anti-aircraft gun.



-

Roger notified Big Arty that he had just told a really good p****k joke.

He then climbed to the edge of the hilltop and scanned the enemy positions to see if they need any further encouragement to go the f**k away.

"Who's not dead?"

Pat checks himself out physically groaning with the pain.  His head throbbing he rolls over and groans "I wish I was"  he replied to Roger.

As their hearing began to recover the team began to hear the sounds of men suffering from having been caught by heavy artillery fire; moans of pain and agony, the screams of men whose nerve had broken, and the shouts of survivors calling for help for wounded comrades. Their was the unmistakable sound of running feet, panicked flight away from the combat zone, told a tale of fleeing Polish infantry.

"Looks like Jan don't wanna play no more. Good thing too I don't know how much longer I can keep winning like this."

Roger scoped the tank to see if anyone was trying to remount it. If they did he planned to reward them with a 7.62 round.

Standing up, James wiped off the clods of dirt off of him that had landed from the barrage, before sticking his finger in his ear to try to clear the ringing in his head. Scanning the area, he looked to see if there was any threats before walking back to the heavy machinegun to see if it was still in one piece.

The sight of the T-62, still in mostly good shape, made him shake his head. "If the radio still works, headquarters might like a slightly used mobile pillbox. They got to send a big tow truck."  he said to the group.

"Shall we push towards the tank and destroy it ? I mean it would be a major loss and not one they could readily replace." Andrew will swap the Charlie G for his HK again if the rest of the team are in the affirmative.


-

Pat slowly got to his feet, he was still wobbly and nothing he could do would stop the throbbing in his head.  He gathered his thoughts and gave Andrew the thumbs up rather than risk speaking right now.  Checking his weapons to make sure everything was still in operatgion he followed Andrew down towards the tank.

The scene was surreal.

Dozens of dead or dying were scattered about. The rain and smoke made the scene feel like a bad slasher movie. Moans from wounded men lended an eeriness to the morning. Another barrage ripped the heavens as heavy 152mm shells passed overhead to land some sixty meters away. The noise and destruction drove everyone to ground.

But, not tko far away the T62m sat. It was idling with a deep growl and a soft clicking of a bad lifted. It was running refined ethanol, so no one expected it to be running when they didn't see diesel exhaust.

When Roger discovered he wasn't dead after the latest barrage he weighed in on the tank issue.

"Better to capture it. Our guys are on their way now all we need to do is keep them from driving off in it."

He angled to cover the men approaching the tank.

Spinning the heavy machine gun towards the tank, James covered the group since he had no idea how to drive the thing.

With his HK at his shoulder Andrews leads the way to the tank, moving the barrel of his MG left and right as they made their way to the objective. Once they were next to the tank Andrew let the rest of the team cover him as he climbed up and as he does so he checks the hits from his own weapon while making sure the crew had egressed.

He would look to see where the most main gun rounds were stored in the tank either strapped to the turret interior or the pile next to the the engine compartment before placing a E-108 thermate grenade and its timed fuse on the pile and getting out of the way.


-

"Hold off on blowing the tank Johnson" then over the radio "Anyone heard from Tran?" Patrick asked.  He looked around at the devastation around him hoping the landing troops would get here soon.

Mark Tran lay in a shallow depression amid the scrub brush. He looked to be alert and ready for action with his weapon within arm's reach and another reload for the Carl Gustav nest to him. The only thing that seemed odd was the hole in his helmet just above his brow. A bullet, probably not even properly aimed, had pierced the helmet and entered the man's skull without exiting. A fatal impact to the fore-brain in the upper cross of the vaunted sniper's 'T'.

"Tran is KIA."

Roger radioed in that the Poles seemed to be falling back, reported one KIA and the captured T62, and asked for an ETA on the arrival of the main force.

"Damn, poor bugger" Pat muttered still he was surprised they hadn't lost more of the men during the fight.  He hoped the Poles would fall back and lick their wounds, maybe even seek peace there really wasn't any reason to continue the war when soon enough they would all be scrambling just for food and the Poles where a long way from home.

The call came back in moments.

"Good copy, Raider element." The radio operator said. "Command six actual (the commanding General) has authorized a detail to be diverted to your location. Element High Roller Six will has been dispatched to your location with orders to secure the area, any prisoners, and all abandoned equipment. They should arrive in roughly twenty five minutes, they were diverted from the spearhead inland south of you. Over."

There was more but the static of the storm and the rough treatment by the artillery combined to produce a very high grade squelch that cleared right up to ultra annoying band of garbled speech. They were all sure it was advice to use the day's callsigns and codes from their communications code books, that there would be someone to handle Tran's corpse, to maintain actionable intel on the Poles, and to not let the approaching allied unit get ambushed.

It occurred to team that any units being diverted from the inbound push from the coast just south of them meant armor. Mostly US and British light armor, and maybe a real tank or two, at a guess. But, there was still the possibility of a tank platoon rolling up and pasting the Poles. Either way it meant a pasting for the Poles. It was a reassuring thought.

Now, to survive for another half hour.

Roger relayed the received information to the rest of the team.

"There were a couple of officers out there. One at least that was badly wounded before that last barrage. They'd be awful useful if they are still alive."


As he spoke he looked over the devastated area through the night scope to see if he could distinguish the slightly warmer living bodies as the dead ones began to cool.

"Cover me guys, time for to put away my toys." James said, as he carried his shotgun.

With the battle wrapped up and friendly's heading to the area, he started to take apart his mine field, so no one else would get hurt.

"Ok Castle you're on overwatch, Wolf you go dismantle what you can, Johnson let's go see what we can find out for the intel guys and if the Poles look like coming back soon. with that Pat starts moving slowly forward.

The rumble of an engine to the north and shouts reminded the team of the ZSU-23-4 and the other infantry headed towards the site of the original firefight. As if on queue the morning ripping fire from the four 23mm cannons sent chills up everyone's spine. It was turning out to be a night stretched into a typhoon darkened morning that seemed to not want to end.

The thoughts of exhaustion and pain soon faded as the rapport of rocket impacts and helicopter rotors could be heard over the 23mm cannons. The Shilka was obviously firing on inbound helicopters and drew the ire of the escorting Cobra gunships. No one seemed to feel sorry for the Poles.

Amid the dead and dying Patric and Andrew came across an old Captain. He was a bald man of approximately fifty with the lean features of someone living on strict rations for too long. He was pale from blood loss and had a large compress mashed over the wound in his left lung. He simply sat and watched the two Brits approach him. To tired and pain laden to do anything else. At his side lay his belt with a compass, map case, binoculars, .357 magnum S&W model 17, several speed loaders, field knife, and a canteen.

Wolfbane was collecting mines when the sound of a tracked vehicle moving at a very slow pace reached him. Counting to himself as he heard the individual creaks in the tracks he realized it was a walking pace, maybe two hundred meters out at best and more likely closer to 175 meters. It could only mean infantry fighting vehicles moving slowly along with supporting troops on foot. Three of them at least.

Castle was finding more difficult to use the night sight. Too much weather induced darkness, not enough ambient light. The standard scope wouldn't do any better either. There was too much storm and not enough natural light to see by. He sighed and tried to remember if anyone on the team had packed an IR or UV light source.

The storm was growing steadily worse. The intense rain and low, dark clouds was beginning to really limit visibility. And chill everyone to the bone. It occurred to them that the storm was masking the sounds of other battles raging in the area as well. They could only hope that the storm rushed landing hadn't met Murphy and his laws of battle.

Grabbing up the web belt and putting it over his shoulder Andrews looks at the wounded man before something else grabbed his attention.

As the engine sounds drifted over the battle field and towards the tank Andrews said "Heads up we are going to have company. I'll man the heavy MG on the tank while we work out what to do. Grab an enemy helmet, best not to  make it to easy for them. Oh and someone radio it through that there are allies near the tank as we don't want a blue on blue situation."

And that was what he did grabbing a tankers head gear if it was available.



-
This message was last edited by the player at 20:59, Wed 19 Feb 2020.

Hearing the sound of a IFV, James first looked for any RPG's that might have been dropped during the fight before heading towards cover.

Pat headed for the tank, it had been a while since he had driven something as big and heavy as a tank.  He clambered up and into the armoured vehicle and got it up a running.  " Well wasn't expecting to drive this out of here but..." he shrugs.

The T62M with its 100mm high velocity gun was envisioned as an anti-armor interceptor meant to rush to the scene of an enemy tank concentration. It had worked well in that roll for three reasons; a very long barreled high velocity gun only firing armor piercing, fin-stabilized, discarding sabot (APFSDS) ammunition, wide tracks and upgraded suspension for better rough country performance and lowered ground pressure, and a 900 horsepower turbo charged diesel engine. The Poles called it the Ferrari of tanks.

The moment Patric engaged the double clutched and crawled forward several meters with the fifty-one ton beast it was obvious what the tank was capable of. He marveled at the on demand power, the tight turn radius, and the feedback he could feel in the controls. It was a fighting tank. Not and ambusher. Then, he immediately stalled and the vehicle rumbled to an embarrassing halt.

The interior, smelling of exploded and charred human being, matched his mood as the tank jarred to a stop.

Up top, Andrew was swept back in the commander's cupola and impressed with the tanks quick acceleration right up until the moment when Patric stalled the big vehicle and sent Andrew jerking forward into the KPV heavy machine gun mount. Intending to shout out a few not so encouraging verbal problem solvers, Andrew pulled up short once he ducked his head inside the vehicle and drew his first lungful of the foul stench. Best to leave it alone, any man capable of driving a tank in that stench deserved to be left the hell alone.

Wolfbane sat back on his heels. He looked at the man laying against the tree again. Something was off there. The uniform was different in a subtle way and the man had an odd rifle, like a Kalashnikov but a little different, on his back. And in a flash the man reached out for Wolfbane's arm. (Body combat roll please, at your listed skill.)

Roger was scanning one last time with the night sight. Trying to decide if he would attempt to use the standard scope or not when a tight beam of light lanced out of a copse of small hickory trees about a hundred meters away. The beam was pencil thin at the source but quickly coned out, an IR searchlight on a weapon, an it quickly began probing his position.

Feeling the soldier grab his arm, James lashed out with his boot at the guys knee before stepping back and pulling up his shotgun. "You want me to turn your guts into confetti?" he asked. "Got a live one here, looks like he might be a sniper or something." he hollered to get some backup.

06:27, Today: James Wolfebane rolled 28 using 1d100.  Body combat.

"Oh god damnit!" Pat yells out and starts the engine up again and tries to get going.  "Ok this could be a tougher ride than I thought." he called out yo Johnson.

In reply to Patrick Walsh (msg # 244):

Andrew did not stick his head back into the turret to reply to Walsh, once was enough. Rubbing his side where he had contacted the edge of the copula Andrew's kept an eye out for whatever was making the noise before the T-62 revved up.



-

#"Jan is persistent. We are not alone."#

Roger tracked the IR beam back to its origin, took aim just behind that spot, and fired his borrowed sniper weapon at the person wielding it.

16:39, Today: Roger A Castle rolled 59 using 1d100.  Sniper Shot. Successful.

Wolfebane reared up and away from the prone man that reached for him. The kick to the man's knee felt like it connected with steel beam rather than flesh and blood. Reaching for his shotgun, Wolfbane was further surprised when the man sprang to his feet effortlessly. Then it hit him like a bucket of water on a campfire; this guy wasn't a Pole. He was Russian Spetznas.

"Well, damn.' Ran through Wolfbane's mind. 'This might get rough.'

There was a crackle of brush to his right and Wolfebane made a man that was very well camouflaged. He seemed to move as effortlessly as his teammate and looked to be holding some kind of huge syringe. The worst part, however, wasn't being face to face with two Russian commandos unexpectedly. No, the worst part was watching their seeming effortless movement, it reminded Wolfebane of just how tired and battered he was. That just pissed him off.

Patric got it right, the tank responded smoothly, and Andrew was glad as the T62M turned about in a rapid neutral turn that put them facing any enemy response. Like the completely unexpected near-miss of very large diameter rocket launcher fired from a deep, shadowy nook of magnolia trees not thirty meters away. The rocket was fired just as the tank completed its 180 degree turn and created just enough motion to cause the warhead to bounce from the turret without detonating.

Well, not for another sixty meters where the warhead struck a thick tree truck. The high explosive shaped charge warhead sent a pencil thin perpetrator of molten cuppro-nichol through the tree with such force the foot thick wood shattered into splinters.

Andrew could hear the sizzle of cooling metal and glanced at the gouge left by the near miss in the armor not a foot from his shoulder. Patric was just beginning to settle down, his headache subsiding, when the turret rang like the inside of a massive gong. The helmet helped a little, the extra strength aspirin helped more, but he had a sickening feeling in his gut; fear and probably a mild concussion teaming up to create some truly epic nausea.

Roger saw something heavy fall and smiled to himself until he saw the helmet strapped to the short log. Even as his mind registered what was about the happen the return fire came in. Three shots, three shooters, and three 'I almost died' breaths later he was covered in dirt from a shot that struck the muddy ground just ahead of his face, pulled by the bullet that passed through first aid kit strapped to his web gear, and left holding ducking at the buzzing of a bullet that passed above him.

Two shadows turned into men that descended on Mark Tran's body. One grabbing the corpse by the shoulders as the other dropped a smoke grenade. Even a dead man carried Intel after all.

As they moved of again Andrews orientated the heavy machine gun towards where the enemy would most likely attack from, should there be any fight in them. He pulls back the charging handle and chambers a round then holds onto the DShK's handles while they move off.

As the rocket careened off to destroy the surrounding foliage Andrew dropped slightly and then realised his arm and head was still attached as he moved the heavy machine gun and engaged the target. Pushing the butterfly trigger down he fired three bursts into the trees where the anti-tank rocket had come from. He watched as the tracers impacted into the area and corrected his aim if it was needed.



Andrew Johnson
Standing, firing HMG
DShK 12.7×108mm (50/50)
Firing on anti-tank position.

Andrew Johnson rolled 50 using 1d100.  Burst 3 = Hit
Andrew Johnson rolled 52 using 1d100.  Burst 2 = Hit
Andrew Johnson rolled 69 using 1d100.  Burst 1 = Hit



-

Surprised by the sudden movement from the guy, James fired off the shotgun into the ground as he was bringing it up. The HK-CAW continued to fire off shells as it clawed its way into the air. Half the rounds tore chunks of ground before it started to impact the Commie, hitting both legs, groin, and chest before sending a spray of 00 buck into the woods.


20:46, Today: James Wolfebane rolled 5,10,4,7 using d10,d10,d10,d10.  Hit location 1, 2, 3, and 4.

19:32, Today: James Wolfebane rolled 86 using 1d100.  HK-CAW 10.

19:32, Today: James Wolfebane rolled 2 using 1d100.  HK-CAW 9.

19:32, Today: James Wolfebane rolled 36 using 1d100.  HK-CAW 8.

19:32, Today: James Wolfebane rolled 42 using 1d100.  HK-CAW 7.

19:32, Today: James Wolfebane rolled 22 using 1d100.  HK-CAW 6.

19:31, Today: James Wolfebane rolled 74 using 1d100.  HKCAW 5.

19:31, Today: James Wolfebane rolled 74 using 1d100.  HKCAW 4.

19:31, Today: James Wolfebane rolled 83 using 1d100.  HKCAW 3.

19:31, Today: James Wolfebane rolled 72 using 1d100.  HKCAW 2.

19:27, Today: James Wolfebane rolled 93 using 1d100.  Shotgun.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:50, Wed 26 Feb 2020.

Castle quickly judged the location he was at to be a bad one and rolled backward down the slope.

'So much for Polock jokes, that was fucking clever.'

He crawled as quickly as he could to a position a few meters down from where to start looking for the enemy again.

#"The new arivals are pros folks!"#

Andrew was surprised by three things when he fired on the area the rocket came from. The first was the tracer loadout in the ammunition, it was at least one of every three rounds and obviously loading to use against helicopters and ATGM crews. As tracers seemed to punch through or ricochet off of everything he startled when several men began shouting in Russian and moving to either flank trying to draw his fire. And the last surprise came when another rocket fired awkwardly from an off-hand hold by a man side stepping from the trees struck the bow of the tank squarely.

The sparks flew as the hull rang like a giant bell, again, but this time the point of impact was less than two feet from Patric. Heat from the impact seemed to fill the interior of the tank momentarily and a visible red swelling of metal bulged inward and glowed for a few moments in a menacing fashion.

Lost in the roar of the heavy machine gun and the explosion of the anti-tank rocket, the more subtle booming of the HK CAWS was no less menacing to the Russian soldier who fell to the ground groaning in way that Wolfbane could only hope ended soon out of pity. The man had taken a spray of buckshot in the lower abdomen, and possibly the scrotum, after all. The other man advanced despite, or maybe because of, Wolfbane's devastating attack on his partner. With a quick juke move to the left, the Russian bore in to the right and lashed out with the odd syringe.

OCC: Wolfbane, body combat roll please, at normal skill level. Thanks, and good luck with your attempted kidnapping.

Roger looked up just in time to see a single man move from cover, advance several meters to another spot of decent foliage and drop. He had to do a double take. It looked like the man was carrying a French Hecate bolt action in .50 BMG. Definitely not one of the trio of men who had fired on him earlier. But, back tracking the man's route from cover to cover Roger did notice the subtle movements of someone shifting in a tight position. Probably searching for him, but such movement meant that they probably didn't know where Roger was.

Trying to avoid the syringe, James stabbed the hot barrel towards the second Russian, trying to jam it in his throat. See that it did not work, he spun the shotguns butt into the guys left kneecap.

Wolfbane attacked furiously, but the Russian was up for the onslaught. He deftly managed to evade the thrush of the shotgun muzzle aimed at his throat, but despite his strongest block, the butt-stroke of the heavy shotgun landed solidly. The brunt of the blow slammed into the man's raised shit. The blow vibrated into WOlfbane's cold hands.

Dropping his foot to the ground with a loud grunt of pain, the Russian commando forced himself on and planted his shoulder into Wolfbane's chest as his arm wrapped around the American's lower back. The HK was trapped between the two men as the momentum of the attack drove the pair towards the ground behind Wolfbane. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the syringe rise in the man's hand.

OCC: It is obvious that the Russian intends to inject Wolfbane, he is tackling because he most likely has suffered an injury to the lower leg that is hampering him at the moment and is going to seek a controlling position to try and inject Wolfbane from. This will all be handled using body combat unless an appropriate melee weapon comes into play and melee weapon skills are required. No wrong thing to do here, just state what you would like to attempt and make your rolls. Good luck.

'French rifle?..It's the goddamn asshole all star team."

Roger aimed and fired and the man with the fancy french anti-material rifle just to keep the enemy honest.

14:14, Today: Roger A Castle rolled 3 using 1d100.  Sniper Shot.

With so many of these guys he had no intention of hanging around and immediately rolled back and crawled back toward his original position, stopping a couple of meters short before moving back to where he could see.

Andrew continues to fire on the special forces soldiers. He fires two bursts at the solider holding the rocket launcher who had just hit the tank and then continuing the sweep to engage the Russians to the left.

"Foot down Walsh. Get us out of here."


Andrew Johnson
Standing, firing HMG
DShK 12.7×108mm (??/50)
Firing on rocket launcher and left hand SF.


Andrew Johnson rolled 20 using 1d100.  Burst 3.
Andrew Johnson rolled 37 using 1d100.  Burst 2.
Andrew Johnson rolled 92 using 1d100.  Burst 1.



-

Remembering some of the fights he had growing up on the streets, grabbing his chin strap, James started swinging his helmet at the commie. The first swipe was not close but the back hand swing caused the helmet to smash into the already injured kneecap.


I figure to treat it as a club attack.
21:14, Today: James Wolfebane rolled 13 using 1d6+11.  Helmet damage left leg.
21:09, Today: James Wolfebane rolled 9 using 1d10.  location.
21:08, Today: James Wolfebane rolled 12 using 1d100.  Hit with helmet MC.
21:07, Today: James Wolfebane rolled 78 using 1d100.  Hit with helmet MC.

Ivan Peortravich had just settled the range finding guide of his binoculars onto the side of the tank when a sharp crack passed through his hands, the binoculars, and his forehead. Roger sighed in relief and slipped his hand up to grip the sling at the front swivel. Crawling in the mud of a typhoon induced rainstorm had its advantages when trained men with high powered rifles were looking for you.

He was making his way back to near his previous position when the rumble of the heavy machine gun atop the T62m continued.

Andrew cussed, his opening fire missed the Russian and demolished most of the foliage the man had been hidden in. The Russian remained focused and drew a rocket from a carrier at his hip as he side stepped. Bringing his arms to together to mate the rocket to the launcher in front of him, the Russian met the bullets of Andrew's following fire. Heavy slugs tore into the man's thigh, climbed to pierce his hip, then struck the nose of the rocket as it slid into the launcher. The nose cone collapsed under the bullet's impact sending the initialization rod backwards into the cap that detonated the bursting charge and thus set off the shaped charge.

The resulting explosion knocked the Russian off his feet and slammed him in the mud. Most of one arm was missing and there were strings of intestine hanging out of his abdomen to one side. Andrew continued, walking his fire onto the man who had moved further to their left. The machine gun's bolt closed with a loud clunk on an empty chamber as the last bullet fired struck the man in the lung just above his heart.

Andrew mentally cursed and looked down along the cupola for more ammunition. He was instantly relieved for two reasons; the ammo was already set out for easy access from the hatch along the turrets side rails and that ammo was also the same tracer-heavy anti-aircraft mix.

Fear washed over Wolfbane like a wave of cold river water during a flash flood. Panic fought to drown him, but his helmet made the perfect life vest. With crazy determination he repeatedly pummeled at the Russian commando. Moments later the man's weight collapsed on top of him. The man had an obviously broken nose and several cuts along the side of his jaw.

Wolfbane rolled the body, rode the momentum over to kneel, and quickly looked about for the HK shotgun. The realization that he had just beaten the crap out of a Russian special forces soldier with his helmet filled him a rising sense of accomplishment and a crashing sense of foreboding since he knew the man wasn't acting on his own.

Andrew dropped down and pulled a ammunition can out while throwing up the top receiver plate. He places in the belt having set the can into the cradle and then once the receiver plate is down he pulls the charging handle and continues to rotate the gun on its ring and engages the remaining enemy on the left first before continuing on and engaging the troops on the right.

Andrew Johnson
Standing, firing HMG
DShK 12.7×108mm (50/50)
Reloading HMG and continuing to engage surrounding enemy forces.


Andrew Johnson rolled 51 using 1d100.  Burst 3 = Hit
Andrew Johnson rolled 87 using 1d100.  Burst 2 = Miss
Andrew Johnson rolled 70 using 1d100.  Burst 1 = Hit


-

With the foe knocked out for the time being, James quickly reloaded the shotgun as he knew he was going to need it again. Once that was done, he checked his surroundings for any other threats before tying up him up, using the boot laces and chucking the boots out into the field at different locations. The spooks will love to have a chat with him.

Dragging the Russian commando along was difficult. Wolfbane had forgotten just how much a strong man could weigh. It had been some time since he had needed to drag anyone along, not since the last major battle in Europe anyway. It struck him how odd combat was, Andrew was chopping up the area around the T-62M with a 12.7mm heavy machine gun that roared over the thunder and rain and Wolfbane was just noticing the noise.

The day was finally beginning to break through the clouds and rain turning the morning into a very dark, gloomily gray landscape. He could plainly see the outline of the tank with it long barreled cannon and the muzzle flare of the DShK machine gun as Andrew hammered away at a skittering soldier. The man was quick on his feet, even in the mud, and fired back using a Kalashnikov of some flavor. Tracers cross paths until finally after a handful of near misses Andrew put a handful of heavy bullets through the man on the ground.

Wolfbane did a quick check of the area, but didn't see anyone close. A shot rang out, drawing his attention back in the direction of the tank. Andrew was nowhere to be seen.

Laying on the ground, on the opposite side of the tank from the approaching Wolfbane, Andrew was in pain and startled. The bullet that had punched into his calf had taken him by surprise as he was reaching for another ammo can. It occurred to him that he had clipped in such a way to be taken prisoner. He sighed and adjusted himself on the ground, these sons-a-bitches were dedicated to their cause. He was convinced of that since they had killed a handful of them already.

(OOC:Andrew suffered a hit to the leg, taking 11 points of damage, the impact felt light but the bullet passed completely through with minimal tissue damage, most likely a light, high velocity round like a .223 or 6mm)

Patric, not realizing that Andrew had fallen from the turret was still letting the tank creep slowly forward at a walking pace.

A muzzle flash caught Roger's attention a split second before the report and Andrew's sudden crash to the ground. Tracking back to where the shot came from Roger searched, but the sun rise had finally turned the night-like morning into a very gray daylight. He would have to take a few minutes to change optics.

(OOC:Roger needs to make a RCN check, normal level with binos, or at half using the night sight. He can change to a standard scope and search at normal as well. it will take a few minutes to change out the scopes, far less time with the binos.)

Roger goes with the Binocs.

20:47, Today: Roger A Castle rolled 72 using 1d100.  RCN with Binoculars. Success.

Roger smiled, they were two of the three Spetznas snipers. One held what appeared to be a bull barreled target rifle, possibly a Remington 40X. And it was probably the rifle that was used to shoot Andrew.

But, the other rifle was also 'liberated' as well and had the look of a long, sleek hunting rifle. Judging by the look of it is was something substantial; a long bolt rifle of medium bore along the lines of a .300 magnum or a .338. Something with long legs and a lot of ouch factor.

The two men were moving. Low crawling into a new position. Their course took them in the direction of a large patch of greenery that looked like wintering honeysuckle bush. Good cover from Andrew in this storm. It was about one hundred meters on the nose to the bush.

Roger couldn't help his (hopefully) wounded buddy from here but he could get revenge.

He also couldn't blame these guys for rearming themselves. Any gun shop in Florida was going to have a better precision weapon then their arsenals normally issued. But that didn't mean he would tolerate them shooting up his personal favorite John Bulls.

His initial reaction was to shoot the man who had drawn blood first but after he did a little math he decided he'd rather not take return fire from the big bore rifle.

He targeted the man with the bigger gun.

21:10, Today: Roger A Castle rolled 27 using 1d100.  Sniper Shot.

"Bugger this for a joke." Andrews draws his Glock from it's holster as he radios Walsh in the tank that he has been hit and to stop moving forward. Stopping for a second to listen if anyone was approaching Andrew kept a two handed grip on the handgun.

Andrew Johnson rolled 96 using 1d100.  Recon.

He then set to attending to his wound with a field dressing from the pouch on his webbing.


-

Andrew was just disinfecting the exit wound when a lone shot rang out. It came from Roger's position somewhere towards the shoreline. A moment later a man screamed as if he just had his face blown off. Andrew cringed, turned his head to spit into the dirt and curse the suffering Spetznas and noticed Wolfbane about thirty meters away. He was literally dragging a tied up Russian commando along the ground behind him as he did his best to keep a low profile.

Roger squeezed the round off, satisfied the moment the rifle fired. It was a smooth shot and he was able to keep the target in the scope. A split second after the shot the man moved just as the bullet struck. It miss the man's temple, but as he pulled his head back to look over his rifle's scope he was struck in the mastoid plate just under his left eye. The man's face evaporated in a crimson mist and a blood curtling scream erupted from the man's mouth.

The other two Spetznas showed their experience. They bugged out immediately. One, dropping the bull barreled target rifle, rolled into cover and scrambled away as if an A10 were diving on his position. The other, previously not spotted, jumped up several meters behind the first and took a lunging stride and dove into a shallow depression. Muddy water splashed as the man landed. But, he was immediately out of sight.

The man Wolfbane was dragging tried one more time to wriggle free, but it was no use. He had been very securely tied up with parachute cord and turned into a Russian version of a spring sausage; long and chunky and simply drug around until needed.

Castle rolled back down from his firing position again.

#"There are two more active snipers out here. Watch your asses."#

He also gave the others a reference for where he had last seen the shooters.

He then crawled like only a lifer infantryman could, this time even further in the direction of his original position, and wondered how long this game of high stakes whack-a-mole would go on.

10:16, Today: Roger A Castle rolled 59 using 1d100.  RCN. Success.

Andrew indicated to his team mate where he was while doing so silently. Once Wolfebane had seen him he again stopped what he was doing for a moment to listen to his surroundings before finishing the first aid he was administering to himself.

Andrew Johnson rolled 28 using 1d100.  RCN = success.



-

"Johnson if I sit here I'm dead. I'm going to spin her around and head North can you keep up with me or get back on noard?" Pat broadcast over the radio.  Pat knew he had to get the Tank somewhere safe and then get out he was much more useful wigh a rifle.

The whine of gas turbine engines begins to grow into the familiar sound of approaching main battle tanks. By the sound of it, they were rolling in from nearly due east. Not the expected approach, but then when did a plan ever survive contact with the enemy. But the sound was unmistakable; Abrams MBTs were closing on their position.

The Poles thought so too. Smoke was beginning to pop up along the far side of the road nearly two hundred meters away. A lot of smoke, easily six dozen grenades had been tossed. The sound of clanking treads was soon accompanied by the sounds of crashing trees as the last Poles in the area began their egress away from the onrushing tanks.

Two things occurred to the team immediately; they needed to contact the incoming allied elements to avoid friendly fire incidents and they would need to identify the T62M as a captured vehicle before some quick triggered tank gunner changed its nationality to Swiss with a armor piercing fin stabilized discarding sabot depleted uranium round.

Roger got on the radio and made the necessary communications but he never stopped scanning for the missing spetsnaz snipers.

He didn't want them to get in any parting shots if it could be avoided.

Of course he didn't have enough hands to use the radio and the bolt rifle at the same time so a quick warning was all he would be able to provide.

Andrew concentrated on finishing his bandaging and making sure he had it on correctly. He then used his radio to indicate to the oncoming heavy brigade that the tank in the middle of the field was surrounded by friendlies and their targets were within the rapidly bellowing smoke on the far side of the road.

Then he let them know they had wounded and that Russian special forces were in the immediate vicinity, giving Tran's position as they likely place any hold outs would be.

Lastly turning to their own teams comms channel he told the rest to consolidate on the tank and also gives the same warning for the area where Tran was last.



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This message was last edited by the player at 23:53, Mon 09 Mar 2020.

The Abrams tanks came on like locomotives. They steamrolled through the area hunting for Polish infantry and Armor like Eagles looking for bass in a summer stream. The occasional rip of machine gun fire or the crashing report of a main gun made it through the typhoon's winds to the team.

Several HMMWVs (humvees) puled up to the house and a collection of NCOs and Officers got and ultimately made their way over to the team. After nearly an hour of debriefing and issuing orders a Major named Hanson walked over the men and explained the situation to them.

"We have the Poles on the run, the Abrams are cutting them to pieces." He said with a smile. "I've been give priority to get a chopper in here and get you men back to the ship for a week in the infirmary. I'm afraid that is all the time we can spare. After that you'll be reinserted, most likely to central Florida by air. About twenty miles from here. Looks like that is where we need the most on the ground Intel. Good luck, gentlemen."

Andrew ticked along during the debrief doing what was needed to do while not aggravating his wound to much. One of the medics accompanying the heavy brigade had given him some pain meds that had taken the edge off, but he knew that the upcoming hours probably would test their limits when it came to managing the pain.

He would try and give a hand getting all their gear together for the transfer to the ship and he was looking forward to a week off.


-

Dragging the Russian with him, James made some small talk. "I will guess that you know enough English that you should consider yourself lucky." he said, not really caring how many rocks he dragged the prisoner over.  "At least your nose will heal up. Your buddy is going to have whatever nickname you guys have for someone with no balls, "IF" he is still alive..."

Once he made contact with the others, he turned over the prisoner. "Be careful what you say. Just to be on the safe side, pretend that he knows English real well, like he lived here at some point in his life. And tell the spooks to not toss him out the helo in mid air like they did with the VC years ago."

Once the area was rolled over by the incoming friendlies Roger moved first to where their sole casualty lay and confirmed he was, in fact, KIA and beyond help.

Next he entered the brush where he had killed the sniper with the big bore rifle and searched for the weapon. It would be likely to come in handy as they worked to clear the relatively flat terrain of central Florida.

Last he collected enough of the Polish and Soviet gear that he looked like a moving pile of guns and rolled the load and himself into the back of the chopper.

Once on the chopper he stripped out of his lbe gear, armor, and jacket to get a good look at the wound in his side.

"So...who got the best scar?"

Once the Spetsnaz was conscious Roger asked him his name and unit in Russian.

Then, just for a lark, he asked the guy if he could speak English.

He didn't say anything about it but chuckled to himself that they had lost two men trying to abduct a man who had showed up at random, out of nowhere, and who had no idea at all regarding what their mission had been. He figured being a soldier must be pretty similar in all armies because that sure as hell sounded like something that would happen to him.