Recovery Ward 6, USN Hospital Ship Norma Rae, February 2, 2000, 10:45 hours

The recovery had been a pleasant change. News from the action showed that the Polish forces to the eastern expanse of the Soviet's central Florida hold had taken a real pounding in recent fighting. But, the typhoon had made proper communication and observation nearly impossible.

The scuttlebutt was that now that the storm had passed and the weather was breaking the offensive would be pushed inland hard. Only, no real picture of the enemy's new disposition was clear. Reports had filtered back to the team that nearly twenty tanks had been destroyed; about equal numbers of Russian and Polish machines. They new it wouldn't long before there would be a mission coming their way.

Roger was sitting in a chair hold the twin ends of a length of rubber tubing as Andrew pulled the tubing towards his knee by bracing his elbow on his hip and extending his arm downward. The forearm wound was still freshly mending and the rehab exercises still caused a little pain, but he had been through worse. And that wasn't even during a war.

Patric was taking a nap. His first since entering the recovery ward. After thirty six hours of observation to be sure he didn't suffer from a severe concussion of any traumatic brain injuries it was nice to be able actually sleep laying down for a change. Besides, if God had intended for a man to sleep sitting upright he would stuck the man in a recliner holding a child.

Wolfbane was reading a technical manual translation about the Russian T80 series of tanks. It seemed to be a very impressive machine until he got to the summations on deployment. It became really clear why so few had been manufactured then. The targeting computer had to be turned off during rapid advances across rough terrain so that the bouncing did not upset the electronic calibration between the main gun's sighting unit and the stabilizer's gyroscope. The track tension regulation module was so sensitive to high compression that is had to be physically disengaged when the heavy tank was loaded on the transports and strapped down securely. And then there was the issue with the electronics package's wiring harness being overly complex and being prone to shorting out if too much crew gear was stored along the electrical panel. He shook his head, silly Russian junk!

An interpreter from the S-3 shop came into the recovery bay, one Lieutenant Cordillera Navarro of the Marine Corps contingent aboard the ship, she was holding a plastic tray laden with four mugs of strong smelling coffee and bottle of government issue knock-off Tylenol. She smiled at the motley collection of men from various nationalities and service branches. Local heroes who had taken on a leading elements of a Polish Infantry Division, fought it out during the typhoon with the lead elements of a Polish Tank Division by calling artillery in almost on top their own heads, captured and enemy tanks, fought of an attack by Russian Special Forces, and even took a senior Russian commando prisoner.

Yep, the S-3 loved these lucky motherfuckers.

"Hey, guys, coffee break." 'Lera' Navarro said to the men. "Captain Stanwick sends his compliments. Lunch will be steak, fried potatoes, slice vegetables, rolls, and sweet tea. TO be served her in forty-five minutes."

No one smiled back at her. Being served a pre-invasion meal mid-day nearly a week into the invasion could only mean two things. The weather reports were true, the typhoon was over with. And that they would most likely be back on the sharp end of the spear in less than twenty four hours. She new the look, working in the S-3 shop meant learning to read people's faces. Especially the faces of men who were about to be sent out on a tough assignment.

She set the coffee around, gently shook Patric awake, and set the bottle of pain relievers on a table. Placing her hands on her narrow hips she took a moment to decide what to tell them.

"We don't know exactly where the Poles are along our immediate front dirt-side. We still haven't taken Flagler County Airport for our air assets. And the advances from the north were really slowed by the storm giving the Russians time to shift their main battle line." She said in a very mechanical, addressing the men kind of tone. "You are going to be re-inserted, Wolfbane will stay with the Raider element for the time being, and you will be scouting out the airport. Julian, ah Captain Stanwick will be briefing you over lunch."

With that she set a folder on the table next to the pain relievers. As she left the men opened the folder and began to read up on the mission. There wasn't much to see, however. Just a map showing the perceived area of operations for the 9th Polish Tank Division, the location of the Flagler County Airport about ten miles south of the dirt-sdie command center now located in the old Marineland ocean park. There was a plan to used a small landing craft to ferry the team with its indigenous equipment to a beach landing zone where Beverly beach runs in Flagler beach.

Orders stated that the team was to insert into the area by 04:00 hours and move inland to the airport using stealth and speed. Contact was to avoided where possible so as not to giveaway the importance of the airport to the landing force. The airport was to be evaluated for suitability to land aircraft, available facilities, and nearness to the Polish Tanks Division's area of operations stationed a few miles away in the town of Bunnell. Secondary considerations were the difficulty of armored attacks against the area, density of local population, and functionality of the road networks.

There were a few notes of Intel to use as well. The area had been mostly depopulated after the nuclear exchange and there had been little actual fighting the area. The Poles had been stretched for nearly ten miles across a half mile wide corridor intended to impede the NATO invasion long enough for their Russian allies to get involved. And a the area was said to have been the initial drop site for Russian paratroopers in fall of 1999. Not much, really.

After reading the scant material over their coffee the team went back to its business. Promptly at 11:30 hours Captain Stanwick arrived with mess orderlies pushing carts laden with steak dinners, pitchers of sweet tea, a bucket of ice, a bottle of whiskey, and freshly baked peach cobbler. Lieutenant Navarro, along with two other attractive female officers from the S-3 shop came along to help handout food and offer big smiles and a little cleavage to the celebratory lunch.

As they ate, Captain Stanwick set out Purple Hearts, Silver Stars, Letters of Valor, and then read a letter from the General thanking them for their courage and dedication, apologizing for not being able to be there in person, and ordering them on their next mission to scout out the airport.

"As you men already know by the folder that Lera left earlier, we need you to slip into the enemy's front yard and check out that airport." Stanwick said. He kept moving as they ate without so much as showing a hint of interest in the food or the liquor. "This is a real recon, we need to know what kind of condition those runways are in and how much risk are running in going after this facility."

"Sneak and peek. GLad to hear we won't have to re-fight the Battle of Grunwald again.."

After nearly 2 days without sleep and only having had a nap Patric was clearly not at his best. Having lost half an ear wasn't helping he blinked a lot and seemed pretty disengaged with the whole process.  He tucked into the food with purpose though barely listening to the Captain.

"When does this all go down" he asked

Andrew made the most of the food and drink on offer while listening to the mission briefing. It was certainly very different to how the British went about such things and he got the unpleasant feeling they were having sake before their final mission.

He listened to the briefing given by the Captain and looked over the various maps and intel reports. "Do we have an estimation of the capability and assets of the 9th Polish Tank Division ?" At this point he began to make his own notes.

Looking at the map it would seem they would be dropped at the entrance to Hwy 100 which ran directly to the airport.... perhaps further down the beach. The Gamble Roger state park, they can use the cover to cross the river and get South of the airport and then go in on foot.


-

Putting down the tech manual, James smiled at the offer of coffee that turned into a frown when he heard what lunch was going to be. "Well, that was fun while it lasted." he muttered.

Listening to the op, James started doing some mental calculations. "Excuse me Sir, are we going in to see what they are up to or put them out of business?" he asked. "If you want them out of business, how long are you looking at, a few days, a week or two, longer?" he added.

A knock at the door signaled for the Captain to stop.

"Enter." Captain Stanwick called at the door. "Gentlemen, I have managed to get one more member for your team."

A Marine Corps Sergeant entered the room.

"This Sergeant Rafael Ortiz of the USMC." The Captain said by way of introduction. "He is tanker by trade. I figured after you last gig you men might find such skills handy. He also it quite adapt out of a tank I might add."

Captain Stanwich pointed at each of the other men in turn and introduced them to the Sergeant.

"This is Sergeant Andrew Johnson of the 22nd Special Air Service Regiment." The Captain said. "He took minor gunshot wound to forearm and calf in their last outing."

The Captain pointed to the next man saying, "This Master Sergeant Roger Castle. We got him from a Delta detachment just in time to get him peppered by Soviet 152mm howitzer shrapnel."

"And this is Special James Wolfebane, a combat engineer." The Captain pointed to fading bruises on the man's face. "He got into a knuckles to noses confrontation with a couple Russian commandos, actual Spetznas troops, and even managed to beat one senseless with a helmet and took him prisoner."

"Last, but not least, Lieutenant Patric Walsh. He's a British paratrooper officer with their combat engineers." Stanwick added. "He and Castle got into a very close in gunfight and grenade fight with what amounted to a platoon of Polish infantry and besides a concussion he suffered to loss of the top of his ear."

The women looked on, amazed at how utterly ridiculous the Captain sounded and hoped that Sergeant Ortiz wouldn't bolt from the room.

"Hola," Raf said, guessing that the Captain's fixation on ranks was probably not shared by actual door kickers.

Roger threw up a peace sign.

"..and if I've had enough Tacos I can fly!"

"Hola" James said and proceeded to ask Rapael in Spanish what actions he had been in. His Spanish was a mix of textbook and street with a Cuban accent.

Andrew raised his hand in greeting for the new comer "Welcome." and then he went back to the charts and maps. He was nearly done making his notes and a quick sketch of the maps though he was sure they would be issued with some anyway.

He then goes back for seconds of the food and drink given it will be rations for the foreseeable future and maybe even what they can scrounge up locally if the timeline gets extended out.


-

"Man, after I've had a nice juicy taco, I roll over and take a nap," Ortiz said with a grin.  He then proceeded to talk with Wolfebane in Español about the war.  James would be able to tell that Raf's Spanish accent was Mexican/Texican.

"Thanks," the Texas native said to Andrew.  Since imitation was the most sincerest form of flattery, he followed Johnson in to grab some real food.  Afterward, he looked over the charts and maps, careful not to spill anything as he did so.

Pat waited for the enlisted men to say their bit before chipping in"Welcome to the team Ortiz, volunteered for recon or did you piss off the general?" he gives a grin  then winces and reaches for the side of his head and sitting back down with a grimace "Ok grinning hurts too."

"Thank you Sir.  I got tired of busting my knuckles turning wrenches on the vehicles stored in the bowels of that damn freighter and asked for a legit recon mission.  So glad to be on the team," Rafael said with a curt nod.  He waited briefly before continuing to wolf down another few mouthfuls of food.

"Captain, what's the deal with Torv, is he going to be rejoining us or is he out for the duration?"  Pat reached over and grabbed the bottle of painkillers, popped top of and took a couple washing them down with the coffee.  The put the bottle back in his pocket.  He was sure he would need them for later.

Andrew found the latest intel report stapled to the back of a recent map of the area surrounding the airport with troop locations. It made for depressing reading, while they had some material losses they were still very much full strength motor rifle brigade and those losses would not impact their readiness level as they would usually be assets in the machine shop anyway.

So they had multiple armour, IFV's and close to two and a half thousand men within a 20 to 40 minute ride away not to mention the heavy artillery on call should there be any trouble. It was starting to look like they needed that sake. Even with a dozen heat rounds and a couple of cobras on standby they would be steam rolled should they be spotted.

It was also pretty obvious that the airport was going to be manned and probably have Russian air assets present and operating given the close proximity of the HQ element.

Once he had finished his notes Andrew put away his notebook.



-
This message was last edited by the player at 00:23, Mon 16 Mar 2020.

As the meeting began to wind down in close relation to the diminishing supply of food, sweet tea, and whiskey, Captain Stanwick stood up and began gathering his paperwork together and said, "We have located a pair of Desert Patrol Vehicles, a.k.a. Fast Attack Vehicles, you know those souped up dune buggies."

Everyone stopped as the Captain spoke, it was that moment they had all anticipated the entire briefing; the particulars of their departure.

"They have been hastily repainted into a tiger stripe camo pattern suitable for the central Florida marshes and have been outfitted. One has a dedicated radio with a fifty klick range on good days. The other is sporting a PRC77 that you can pull out if you need more portable comms. Both are sucure. Each vehicle also has an M2 heavy barrel with five hundred rounds. I tried to get some SLAP ammo but I couldn't locate any in time."

Lera cleared her throat drawing attention away from the Captian and explained what everybody really wanted to hear, "The DPVs have been loaded onto one of the SEALS' insertion boats, the only one we have so they agreed to ride shotgun to get you guys ashore. You will be departing an hour after sundown, roughly eighteen-thirty hours. The insertion boat will run due east, go dark and slow down to run silent, and then creep back in on long curving course designed to get you to within a mile of the beach by twenty-thirty hours. Then its wait-watch-listen until twenty-two hundred to be sure no one knows you're there. This should allow the tides to creep the boat in to within minutes of the shore for a quick run in to the beach."

"You will need to load your gear, take everything you won't miss. You will not be back here, and its likely that the HQ at Marineland park will be packed and on the move before your are out of the airport." Stanwick added quickly. "There are supplies on the DPVs already also."

"FAVs?  Those things are dead sexy," Ortiz said with a smile.  "What it lacks in armor, it makes up for in not-having-to-walk factor," Raf added.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:36, Mon 16 Mar 2020.

"Any chance we might have a map of the airport around here? At least the runways and major buildings?" James asked,trying to get an idea of what to target.

"Um, sorry. No maps exist for the airport specifically." Stanwick said. "But, we do have some very up to date topographical maps."

Roger was relaxed enough he could have been mistaken for dozing off.

"Roger, wake up." A nurse said. "Hon, it's time for your shots. We have reports of dysentery from bad water already. This is a broad spectrum immune booster, this a vitamin shot, this is a broad spectrum antibiotic that should stay in your system for couple of days and help with all the little wounds, and this is a mixture of Modafinil and Ringer's Lactate to keep you functioning for next thirty to forty hours."

The shots where minor ouches compared to the shrapnel. But, it was all worth three minutes of up close and personal nurse Sanders cleavage. Sanders would be missed the next time he was wounded, most definitely. As she moved on to others one by one it was remarkable how such a lean woman could so easily carry so much cleavage around.

When the nurse came towards Jsmes with the needle, he tucked his free arm over his eyes so he did not have to see it. "I hate getting harpooned! I thought I was done with it at basic!" he said.