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.