Realistic or Modern Ｂｅｓｉｅｇｅｄ

[Trappy]

Lt. Elizabeth Forrest

Oh God, everything hurts. Oh God, Oh God, Oh God. Thank God for whoever put me in cover, I faintly heard an explosion from the jeep as I was being carried. Now I'm leaning against a concrete wall of sorts, and through my heavily concussed ears, that good Private is checking my wounds.

"I...Yes..." I manage to grumble out, my pain suppressing my ability to speak and think. My elbow is littered with shrapnel, and warm blood trickles down steadily, soiling my pants with a growing dark red stain.

And after that, I'm not sure what I experienced. I lost consciousness, just as... something... hit near me. I could feel my body leaning forward, and me going into quite a bit of a stumble, landing on my back. I snapped back into reality when a rain of dust landed on my face.

As I got up, bullets whizzing over my part of the trench, I could see soldiers, my own soldiers, retreating. I was furious. Why the hell are they retreating? The enemy are weak. Just some junkies with AKs, why the hell are men of the Ambrian's finest Armed Forces running away from some jockies with guns?!

But I had to calm myself down. Now is not the time to be angry at my own men. They have their reasons, and judging by the bunch of jeeps spread out near the road, I'd say Command has ordered a withdrawal. Best not to get left behind.

I begun crouch-running through the trenches, passing a man providing cover fire with an SKS, before pausing, as a duo of bullets ripple across the air and hit the dirt near me, forcing me back into the same piece of cover he is in.

I clutch my shrapnel-ridden elbow, and turned to the man. "Hey, cover me! I'm going!" Was all I said before I sprinted out, bullets smacking into the dirt all around me. I just hope I can make it.

 

[LoneSniper87]

"Ok, good. That means there is no nerve damage, this should be an easy fix then." I said with a confident grin. A bullet sailed past the post of us and hit the wall next to Forrest in sheer luck. She went off into a daze for a few minutes, and I turned to the pillbox openeing and let loose a few controlled bursts, trying to keep heads down. I ducked down and noticed that the LT had gone and was in a trench. God damnit, why couldn't people let me do my job without leaving?

I followed after her, catching up to her and a recon who looked vaguely familiar. "Look, Leuteniant Forrest, when we get back to the FOB you are not allowed to leave the infirmary unless I a medic releases you or until you have fully recovered, is that understood?" I asked. It felt odd, in all honesty, to order around a commanding officer. But I do remeber that field medics could temporarily outrank others when it came to the welfare of the squadron.

"Now follow after the recon, LT, I will cover for you." I said, running to the other side of the trench opening and laying down supressive fire with the last half a magazine I had before reloading. "Go!" I then said, slinging the bolt back and getting ready to take down any that dared pop up. After this I had one spare magazine, then I was reduced to my sidearm. I pray we get back to the FOB soon.

Trappy

 

[Pilgrim59]

Day 1 - 13:46:57 FST (Femos Standard Time)
Designate: N/A
Pfc. Dimitri "Essie" Mayakovsky
22nd Division, 3rd Battalion, B Company
FOB, Grindes, Femos


Fleeting by slowly, Dimitri retracted his rifle's bayonet and returned fire as he reversed himself over by the jeep. His surroundings spun around him, the world was collapsing in on his sights. He danced to its tune, his steps misaligned and his drunken craze carried him safely to the shores of oblivion. His eyes drowned by fatigue, his apparel and visage were so dark by the accumulation of dirt that he's as identical as the surrounding floras.

CHHH KUYYYY CHHH CHHH CHHHKA

Whiplashes of green and red banners cracked fro and forth among the trees and disturbed soil.

"Chyort! Patrona... Protivnika... I don't think we'll hold this ground for much longer, tovarisch."

Hugging cover behind the jeep and catching his breath, Dimitri waved at his comrade next to him. Running low on fresh magazines, Dimitri manually loaded and bolted each round - firing whatever he could get off of his webbing and pouches.

...KA-PICH.... ....KA-PICH... ....KA-PICH....

He took his time, getting his rounds off on target, at the cost of suppression fire. Smoke and blood was in the air, the sight of impacted grounds dotted the landscape, while fires and cracking woods painted the barren land with green and red. There, in the baptism of fire, Dimitri awaited his retreating comrades, while those around him start up the jeeps.

Kabboom

 

[Kabboom]

(Bump for others The Cobalt Killer The Omen of Death Illusive Loki777 Elekta Kount adrian_ Trappy DanTheMan LoneSniper87 Velkyn )

 

[darth]

LCpl. Landon Savage
Outside Grindes, Femos
1400 hours FST

The thunderous booming of cannonade and gunfire echoed throughout rural countryside around Grindes. Distant black smokestacks and a hint of yellow haze tinted the afternoon sky. Femos was humid and hot.It's densely forested landscape was a deep, lush green. The air was thick with moisture and the sun beat down any thought of a refreshing breeze. Apart for the battle commencing yonder eastward, the brush was teeming with life. From insects as large as a man's hand to venomous predators. As far as any sane person was, Femos, on the surface at least, was fairly uninviting. The Ambrian troops felt the full weight of Femos' wrath day by day. Now they face something a new foe; an enemy far more deadly than heat or insects.

LCpl. Landon Savage jogged down the thin dirt path towards the sound of distant gunfire. Every radio channel was filled with chatter, and the sheer volume made Landon's radio seemingly blare out in pain. His gear shifted around his body as he took on a heavy stride. Each step came down with a notable thud as Landon tried to keep his pace. "Just my luck," Landon thought to himself, "The biggest firefight is raising Hell down there, and I'm lost in the forest..."

Landon continued to run due eastward, following the sounds of far-off battle. Landon and his squad had been assigned to a reconnaissance patrol, right up until he got separated. Then amidst this confusion, the entire country decides to declare war. Despite the dire outlook of the situation, Landon kept a relatively cool head. He thought, if he was to find his comrades, they'd most likely be in the fight. Landon tried his radio again, and set it to his squad channel. His hails were returned with static looming over the sounds of shouting and rifles discharging. Landon stopped running for a moment and stood still in the dirt path. "Kilo actual, this is Kilo three, request location, over..." Landon said between breaths. The radio retained the same response. Landon tried again, but it seemed of no use. Landon released the talk button on his radio and let his head lean back against his neck, and he took a moment to recollect himself.

A sudden rustle of foliage made Landon snap to attention. He hastily shouldered his weapon and aimed towards the deep green brush. The rustling grew louder and seemed to draw nearer. Landon tightened his grip on the rifle, and his tactical gloves made a slight squeaking noise in response. To Landon's relief, the sudden cause of distress was the only the makings of a small bird. The small avian fluttered out of the bushes in a hurry, and Landon lowered his weapon.

Landon returned his mind to thought. He sighed and reached for his radio again. He switched the radio to the platoon command channel, one meant to be kept in silence. Landon then repeated his message. "This is Lance Corporal Landon Savage, call sign Kilo of battalion three, requesting location... over..." Landon said anxiously, hoping the response would be anything but static.

 

[Kabboom]

July 18, 2017
1405 hrs
D Company's 22nd day in Grindes

Cpt. Richter Wiltshire

The battle's been going on for a while.

I have word from the platoon lead. Personnel at the North COP are more or less accounted for, and they're mounting the jeeps for exfil. I immediately turn my attention to the tanks next, and to my immense satisfaction, I see one T-62 get hit directly by a shell, sending its turret flying away, and its ammo rack blowing up, almost instantaneously creating a fume of black smoke, billowing in a creek near the North-East COP. It was a lucky one, too. That one was crossing a makeshift pontoon, and now that that's gone, I'd expect a bit of a delay when it's over. Over on the North-West COP, we've had less luck, only destroying a truck (which I can only hope was either filled with supplies, or soldiers, or both), and blowing the tracks and external fuel tanks off a nearby T-72.

An NCO nearby was on a radio. He had seemingly picked up a faint signal from a recon patrol somewhere North-East. What in the fuck are they doing there? Didn't they have any contact? I turn to the man, and grabbed the radio. "Kilo of Battalion 3, what are you doing out there? Get back to the FOB, it's to your direct South-West, I repeat, South-West. Be advised, heavy enemy presence. Tanks are at play, move with caution, over."

I know the chances of them actually getting through the tank motorcade was slim. But right now, we need every man we can get.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sgt. Lawrence Lambert

Oh my Jesus, that was fucking close. I navigated through the trenches, alongside that woman with the MP9. I don't want to live in the past, but we make a great team. Great enough to make it to the jeeps, with that age-old trick of fire-and-maneuver. Oh God, I can't believe I made it. I made it! Fuck yeah!

But we're not out of the woods yet. We're running out of ammo, and more of the jeep men are going down. I know that because a guy next to me, with an M16, screamed that he was out, and then got shot in the head as he tried to duck down to reload. Normally, we wouldn't do anything to the dead except bury them, but I was just... so, so desperate. I immediately ducked down to his body, and started rifling through his ammo pouches, pockets, for anything and everything valuable. I grabbed his knife, his compass, his sidearm (which was a fine M1911, with 2 magazines), and one, exactly one, half-empty M16 mag. Guess that's just my luck.

I peek up, and began switching from frantic automatic, to steady semi-auto. I trained my tiny-ass peep sight onto the center mass of a Femosi rebel who had just hopped into the trench, and is now running and gunning down a traffic trench. Bang! goes the gun, AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA goes the rebel as he goes down.

I switched to more targets, before the aged platoon leader finally yelled to everyone. "Get in the jeeps, we're withdrawing!" I obliged, basically hopping in head-first into a mostly vacant jeep. The engines quickly started, and an entire convoy of flat-tired, bullet-ridden vehicles were on their way shortly after. Ho-ly shit.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sgt. Faris Woods

Finally! The order is given! Time to get the hell out of here. I got into a jeep nearby, and peeked my rifle out the window, and resumed fire. I took down at least 3 rebels that way, before the vehicle shifted suddenly, throwing me off aim. The driver then turned the wheels, and slowly but surely, moved. I looked out the still-open car door, and I saw Essie, still firing. I wave to him. "Essie! Get on! C'mon!"

The Cobalt Killer The Omen of Death Illusive Loki777 Elekta Kount adrian_ Pilgrim59 Trappy DanTheMan LoneSniper87 Velkyn
(wrap up your combat stuffs on the front, North COP is done for)

 

[Velkyn]

Róża Helminski
Day 1 of Deployment: Approx. 1400 hours
Unwounded
Retreating
----------------------------------------

She could barely distinguish what the man was screaming over the ringing in her ears, but she got the overall meaning. She swung her MP9 around the corner and ducked down as low as she could, beginning to move towards a piece of cover, about halfway towards the safer area of trenches. She caught the wrapped bay of a Transport truck peek over the wall, but gave it no thought as she ducked behind the cement barricade, hearing the sounds of supersonic bullets crack past her ear, to an almost eerie rhythm.

"Now, my turn."

She glanced down at her Primary, and for a moment had a feeling of distaste. She really needed something larger, something that could reach out and keep heads down. But she knew what the downsides were when she chose the weapon. She leaned backwards and out, keeping herself low to the ground as she began to lay down a sporadic stream of 9mm. She watched as a rebel came into her sight, and she pulled the trigger twice, three times, four, before he went down. She focused her fire on the area around where she had just came from, in order to keep her comrade covered.

She hoped it was enough.

She thought she saw his leg from beneath her gun, but wasn't sure as she ducked back into the cover, quickly doing a reload. She slammed her second last magazine into the grip of the gun, and let the bolt slam the next bullet into the chamber. She leaned back out and began firing, doing her best to suppress

 

[darth]

LCpl. Landon Savage
Outside Grindes, Femos
1415 hours FST

Landon let out a sigh of relief as a voice returned his message over the radio.Though the signal was faint he could make out most of the words. "Kilo of..." the radio spat, Landon brought it closer to his ear, "-doing out there?" The officer's voice was slightly muffled and cut off by the static, but as he continued Landon began to recognize the voice. "Get to... F.O.B," the radio blared, "-direct southwest, I repeat southwest!" The officer shouting over the radio, Landon concluded, was that of the company's own commander; Richter Wiltshire. Landon had never actually met the man in person, but he had heard him speak during the operation briefings and overviews. Landon felt fairly surprised that the commanding officer of Company D responded personally to his hails, though he didn't think too much of it. Landon listened carefully as Wiltshire continued to yell over the channel. "Be advised...-" the radio was then suddenly cut out by heavy feedback, and the signal was lost. "Repeat your last over?" Landon said, attempting to regain the signal. "The signal went bad, request you repeat your last, how copy?" It was no use, the signal was gone and any attempt to find it again was a waste of time. However, Landon did get some information regarding his immediate position. According to Wiltshire the F.O.B was to his southwest, and Landon had been moving eastward. Landon cursed as he realized he had been running in the completely opposite direction. Landon spun around and began to run back up the dirt path.

After a few minutes of running the path opened up into a small clearing. Landon checked his compass on his wrist and reorientated himself. As he did so, Landon began to think he heard the faint chattering of voices. Landon tensed up and readied his weapon. At first, Landon thought his mind was playing tricks on him, that doubt was dashed as two insurgents suddenly appeared from the adjacent treeline. Landon hit the deck, landing harshly on his stomach. He set up his Stoner 63 in a position so that he could fire upon them. The two armed men were walking at a near careless pace through the thick grass to Landon's direct front. They were speaking in a foreign language, and they seemed quite agitated. Landon hovered his finger over the trigger as they slowly entered his lane of fire. He let his weapon spray a single burst as one the men came into range. The insurgent collapsed as several rounds struck his torso, and his body spat out a thick mist of red. The second became alarmed and began firing at the hip into Landon's general direction. Bullets whizzed over Landon's head as he redirected his aim to the second target. He then let out another burst, and rounds met their mark. The spray caught the man at the lower leg first, then sputtered up into his chest. With the tow threats neutralized, Landon lifted himself to his feet and resumed his trek towards the F.O.B. Landon could tell he was drawing nearer to the battle as the sounds of gunfire and detonations grew louder in volume.

Landon broke into a sprint, and he suddenly found himself in the midst of the ongoing battle. He saw neither his comrades nor enemy, just the bright colors of tracers and booming of explosions. Landon ducked for cover in a nearby crater and tried to make sense of the situation. To Landon's dismay, he suddenly could make out the low rumbling of vehicles approaching. Landon gripped his weapon and leaned out, blindly firing into the dense foliage.

 

[Dak]

Date:July, 2017
Status: Fit for Full
Location: Southern FOB

Lysander​

First Sargent Lysander was walking around the back of the front line of the FOB. He was sent there to see up the defenses there. This was normally meant for a J.O but seeing as how they had a shortage senior enlisted had to take the weight of the responsibilities and preform the duties of a junior commissioned officer. He was standing there, rifle slung over his shoulder, and coffee mug in hand. It was obviously very late into the day to drink coffee, but Lysander could drink coffee at any point, even right before bed.

He walked down the lines. Everyone getting out of his way, the old war horse still seemed to scare everyone. Lysander was for the most part one scary mother fucker. He'd been in for a while, he had stories that would scare some of the greenest of people. His worst of all is the Kitheral Massacre. He stood atop the ramparts and with viewing glass in hand he looked to the west. He over heard the chatter on the radio. He took a sip from his coffee. "Well Shit..." He mumbled to himself before walking down the line. He stopped when he noticed a group forming watching as motar fire starts to rain down a few miles form the FOB.

"Hey!..." He shouted. "As most of you can tell we're gonna be having some guests coming in... Saddle up.. We hold our line... Now I just got here a few hours ago, and by hell are we going to retreat...." He pulled his rifle of his shoulder. "Retreat... Hell! I just got here, and we aren't going to let them take this line..."

The group shifted and moved to their positions. Now on alert they passed him. Lysander made his way back to his position above them. he had a better view, along with the radio.

"Savage 1, come in Savage 1. This is FOB south. We got warm beds, warm food, and good coffee. And best of all a solid line of guns between us and who ever is firing upon you, I'll meet you at the gates...." He said over the radio before walking away towards the line to take place with others that would soon take part in holding the line.

 

[LoneSniper87]

(Boop Trappy )

 

[Trappy]

Lt. Elizabeth Forrest

Running across narrow trenches in this irritating heat and humidity doesn't turn out to be a great idea, especially when you have an open wound that's only been through basic disinfection. Trust me, I know this stuff quite well. The trenches are half-covered with mud, corpses and blood, so I am literally knee-deep into the filthy masses at places, with the unforgiving heat slowly melting away my consciousness. Damn, what the hell is wrong with me?! Get it together now, come on. As a commanding officer, you can't allow them to see you like this Eliza!

Leaning on a dusty crate to catch my breath amidst the chaos, I turn around and notice the medic has caught up with me. She seems a bit annoyed, telling me to stay put in the infirmary when we get back to FOB and some stuff. Telling, well, I say it's more like commanding, she's got that attitude right. But I did run away when she was treating my wound, it's fair that I owe her that much respect.

"Hahaha . . . Will do, doc. Maybe you can tie me up too so I can't run away. If that makes you feel more assuring . . ." I chuckled, though that was a bit out of place, considering our current situation.

Following the soldier with the SKS, we soon reach our extract point, where ally jeeps are being assembled and troops loading onto them. I look back to check on the medic, and gaze upon the outpost as she passes by. There are still gunfire here and there, as some brave souls are sacrificing their escape to hold certain points, ensuring safety for their retreating comrades. They will be in my prayers, that's without a single doubt.

Damnation, 2 outposts in a single day, how bad can this get?

LoneSniper87 Pilgrim59

 

[LoneSniper87]

"Thank you." I say quietly as I follow behind her. We made it to the extraction point, finding several other people, and a few medics. I walk over to the medics looking them over. "Save as much of the medical supplies as you can, we should wait until it'd be easier to treat them." I told them, and they nodded. Of course they'd still use some of the stuff, but they would hopefully not try to help everyone, only those who were worse off. I walk back to the LT, lifting up my visor. "God, where'd they get this stuff?" I asked, not really expecting her to have an answer.

 

[Kabboom]

July 18, 2017
1420 hrs
D Company's 22nd day in Grindes

Cpt. Richter Wiltshire

Oh, thank fuck. Thank fuck, thank fuck, thank fuck.

A weary voice informs me on a garbled radio. Platoon leader of the jeeps. I forgot his exact unit number. He informs me, with heavy breathing and panting between his words, that all troops evac'ed and accounted for. I was relieved. So relieved. My mind was making up all kinds of scenarios, paranoid delusions, fears and anxieties. Like if they were ambushed by a rogue tank and were all killed. Or an artillery salvo gets the better of our vehicle column. But thank God, thank the Al-fucking-mighty, they did not die that way.

I look into my binoculars. Many good splashes from our howitzers, but they have to stop now. I gave them the order to stop. The fire was ineffective at this point, and now I'm more worried about counter-artillery. But I see the enemy casualties went up by a bit. Another 2 T-62s disabled on the North-West crossing, while on the North-East, an MTU-72 bridgelayer has exploded, killing at least 3 people, judging from the droplets of red around it. I'm just guessing at the blood, can't see that well far away.

The jeep convoy quickly pulled into the FOB, the gate lifting up quickly out of the way, as the base inhabitants look with horrified eyes, at the battered survivors, arriving on wheel-mounted steel blocks of Swiss cheese. The wounded were quickly evacuated out, by dedicated medics, and also by their comrades within the jeep. They were all leaking blood, and the jeep interiors, as I could see them, were also decorated with blood, bullet casings and impact holes. Most, if not all of their windows are gone, shot to bits by AK rounds. A very wounded driver, with blood oozing out of his lower jaw, simply falls out of his seat, hitting the dirt, startling the surrounding soldiers. A quick inspection indicates death. Two soldiers quickly carry his body away, leaving behind a steady trickle of blood.

The platoon leader approaches me, and gives a report. 20 soldiers out of the original 50 defending the North COP were evacuated, along with the entirety of the evac platoon, minus 4. Shit. That's not good. 34 KIA/MIA, not to include the wounded still among us. I salute the man, dismissing him, but not before leaving him with the order to refit and rearm, and await further orders. Well, I say that, but at this point, I'm still in the planning phase. Shit's changing too fast, it'll take me some time.

As I looked among the troops, I spotted my Lt. Goddamn, she looks like battered shit. Almost looks like what would happen if you threw a grenade into a bakery. But I guess that will have to wait for later. I wave at her, and yelled her name. "Lieutenant Forrest, report in! Get up here!" I yelled, before turning to my radioman.

I get FOB South on the line. Good thing this base has multiple defense installations. They're linked with trenches and roads, and they branch out into 3 different COP-sized bases, one South, one East, and one West. Funny thing is, a bit of a mix-up ensued in the first days of construction, and somehow, the names just stuck. South FOB is actually to the North of us. Some dumb-ass managed to hold the map backwards for 18 days straight, and I guess the name just stuck.

"South FOB, reinforce your defenses, stay alert, be ready for any and all enemy incursions onto your positions. Over." I then turned back to the situation at hand. By God, what a damn mess.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sgt. Faris Woods

My God. We finally made it. The entire trip, I held my rifle tight, gritting my teeth, in a perpetual state of fear. I don't know what it was, whether it was a slim hope for us to get back to base unscathed, or a subconscious desire for an RPG flash to appear before my eyes, and blow up my jeep and have this nightmare be done with. But thank God, that ride was over.

As soon as my vehicle entered Central FOB grounds, I immediately hopped out, almost dislodging the jeep door. Well, the thing was just holding on by one mangled hinge now, with everything else shot up beyond recognition. I clutch my rifle, and head to a barracks/tent nearby. We have these things set up in the edges of the FOB courtyard, and they usually contain our weapons, ammo, or beds, showers, or supplies. The one I headed to was a storage tent, including but not limited to ammo and food.

Which was what I desperately needed right about now.

As I stood at the entrance, I looked back to the battered group of soldiers I came into the base with. In all the blood and wounded people, I found Essie, standing idly, taking heavy breaths, seeming to cool himself down. I yell at him, grabbing his attention. The man looked like hell, really. I think he's a new guy, trying to get to used to combat. I would know.

"Hey, Ess! Come with me. Let's get some fresh stuff into us."

The Cobalt Killer The Omen of Death Illusive Loki777 Elekta Kount adrian_ Pilgrim59 Trappy DanTheMan LoneSniper87 Velkyn darth Dak

 

[darth]

LCpl. Landon Savage
Outside Grindes, Femos
1430 hours FST

Landon covered his face with his arm as dirt flew upwards from the hailstorm of bullets. Landon cursed as the suppression didn't seem to cease. He had lost his heading in the confusion, although it appeared he may have been caught in the crossfire of both sides. Landon decided he could not sit idly any longer. Alas, there was a lull in the suppression and Landon sprung at the opportunity. He made a quick glance at his compass on the band of his wrist and redirected himself. Southwest he thought and sprinted out the hole he had taken shelter in. Landon heard the guns ring out again, and he dove onto his stomach. Landon proceeded to crawl through the dirt and underbrush. Amid the chaos, Landon's radio blared with life again, this time the signal was far clearer than before. A sergeant was speaking to Landon directly, and using his last name rather than his Callsign. "Savage 1," he repeated and ordered Landon to rendezvous with him at the "south" F.O.B. Luckily for the sergeant, Landon was already on his way there, albeit a slow crawl of progress at that.

Then, a projectile suddenly screamed overhead, followed by a detonation that boomed out behind Landon, and he felt the shockwave ripple through his body. Though the explosion was too far off to cause Landon any harm. Afterwards, Landon realized this missile had struck its mark, and the suppression of machine gun fire was then utterly silenced. Without the fear of being cut down by bullets, Landon gathered himself to his feet again and began to run forward. The rumble of vehicles shuffled the earth beneath his feet, the source appeared to originate on Landon's left. He turned to see a column of T-62 battle tanks lumbering through the battlefield. It was apparent that these tanks were hostile, but it seemed they hadn't spotted Landon and continued their slow advance. Landon ducked down and inched forward. He found concealment behind some brush and waited for the column to pass. Landon had not the means to engage such armored opponents.

As the tanks finally passed out of view, Landon resumed his sprint, and he ran through an adjacent treeline. After sufficiently expelling himself from imminent danger, Landon slowed to a jog and breathed heavily as he went. More long and sufferable moments of pushing through thick foliage followed before Landon's efforts finally paid off. His eyes scanned happily as they gazed upon the forward base. He heartily walked up to the entrance to meet the many comrades he now saw. Though his glee was quickly dispatched as he realized the base was in utmost commotion. A long convoy of jeeps, singed and riddled with bullet holes drove through the gates in shambles. The vehicles were hauling distraught soldiers and groaning wounded. Many were yelling orders or trying to make sense of the situation. Landon paused for a moment to revel in this apparent image of disorderly chaos.

 

[Pilgrim59]

Day 1 - 14:30:57 FST (Femos Standard Time)
Designate: N/A
Pfc. Dimitri "Essie" Mayakovsky
22nd Division, 3rd Battalion, B Company
FOB, Grindes, Femos

The world was spinning around him, nothing was the same ever since he returned from the northern barracks. His arms were heavy and his legs trembling with no signs of stopping. He heard a familiar voice calling him in the distance. It wasn't by his name, but rather by his rifle's designation - Essie, short for SKS. Still, he responded with a hoarse and weak voice.

"...D-Da! I'm coming..."

He waltzed his way over to Faris, while wiping his face of dirt and blood. He was more than happy to oblige the man's mission for some food. He slung his rifle over his shoulder, and loosened his helmet straps, which were obstructing his breath. By the end of their march, they had settled down by a stack of empty crates, which were littered with casings and torn rations. Without further delay, the two popped open their meal and gobbled them up. With his mouth full, and his hands continuously feeding his expedited gulps like a machine gun, Dimitri grumbled to his newfound companion. His newfound energy made him a distinct catch from his earlier personality in the field.

"Fanksss a lot out therree. I owe you my life, comrade. Shhhayy.... I-I didn't cattthh yourrhh namee. I'm Dimitri, B Company. What's yours?"

Kabboom

 

[Velkyn]

Róża Helminski
Day 1 of Deployment: Approx. 1400 hours
Unwounded
Retreating
----------------------------------------

Róża watched as many Ambrian men climbed into the back of one of the many Ural-style trucks, and she could hear the popping of gunfire in the distance. She let her MP9 empty the rest of its magazine, not truly aiming at anyone, but rather the general direction of the enemy. She didn't wait for herself to gather courage, she pushed her boot into the dirt and spun, moving towards the trucks as she built speed. She could see a dirt mound just before the trucks, and many excruciating moments of adrenaline-drowned terror brought her over the mound, fighting to keep her arms from shaking.
She had never felt so exposed in a firefight.
She could already see the front trucks beginning to depart, and quickly fell in line with the many soldiers, who looked almost nothing like the sort. Many were ragged, mud-coated and grim featured. The only ones who she could hear over the ringing in her ears were the wounded, being loaded in by stretchers. One stood out, it was a young man. Younger than her by many years, he was but a man, barely out of childhood. She couldn't determine why he screamed the way he did, she only caught a glimpse of him as he was ushered to the back of the truck hastily.
But that much blood, the weak wailing...
She tore her mind from it and quickly strapped her firearm to her chest, making sure it was tight. She found her way into the back of another truck just as the engine began to accelerate. The ground beneath her feet began moving as a rifleman caught her hand in his, pulling her up into the covered bed. "Thanks" She said, doubting he could hear her. She glanced around and noticed that there were no wounded in the front, there weren't even relief men to help others. She realized that the truck wasn't a Ural, like the others, but rather a re-purposed cargo truck. She nodded softly and sat on the floor, back against the railing as the truck began to accelerate. She could still hear gunfire being exchanged, and wondered if any Ambrians still fought in the trenches.
She wondered if she could have done more.

 

[Kabboom]

July 18, 2017
1432hrs
D Company's 22nd day in Grindes

Sgt. Faris Woods

We entered the tent together, and quickly found us some food. Rations. Usually, they taste like liquid shit. But now, after we've brushed with death more than Dob Moss brushes his paintings, these don't taste so bad after all. In fact, their moisture quenches some of my thirst. Granted, actual water still works a lot more wonders than 'ration moisture', as I gulp down on a canteen.

"Ay mam, mno problmem. Name's Faris. I'm from E Company, our platoon was assigned to the COP, seeing as D Company was a bit undermanned."

I finish my meal. "Damn, what a day, huh?" As I close my eyes for a bit, resting them momentarily, I could hear the voice of an NCO outside, rallying everyone. Goddamn, what they said about the military is true; you never get any chance to rest. I stand up, and head out the tent, turning back to Essie- ahem, Dimitri. "C'mon. Let's go."

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Cpt. Richter Wiltshire

As Lt. Forrest regrouped with me, leaving a random medic behind in the mess, we headed to the radio room, where a particularly distraught and annoyed NCO stood, with his hands practically glued to the table. I could see he was so deep in thought, he didn't realize my voice. "What?!" He yelled angrily as we opened the door, turning around, seemingly expecting to find some annoying grunt, but then he quickly fixed his attitude and posture when he saw me instead.

"Report." I said briefly. The man cleared his throat, and then begun to give me a brief explanation of what the fuck is going on. All 3 COPs are down, jammers confirmed in area, and runners from the other part of town says that they're facing heavy assault as well, especially 3rd Battalion on the other side of Grindes, opposite our position. Their tanks are getting hit hard with some kind of armored swarm, a whole lot more than what we're seeing. As far as we know, the outside world has no idea we're getting attacked.

But there are good news, however. Some of our sensors on the outskirts still work, and just prior to loss of signal and mortar attack, we detected movement. Rough triangulation of their positions, as well as a technician's advice indicates that they are most likely jammer positions, set up before the attack. That means, if we are to have any hope of lasting in Grindes at all, we're gonna need to take these fuckers out. But the question is: How?

I don't know yet, but I think I'm close. Maybe the troops will have an answer. I thank the guy, and then walk out the courtyard. One motion of my hand, and an NCO quickly gets to work. He stands at full attention, then assembles everyone.

The Cobalt Killer The Omen of Death Illusive Loki777 Elekta Kount adrian_ Pilgrim59 Trappy DanTheMan LoneSniper87 Velkyn darth Dak

 

[Trappy]

Lt. Elizabeth Forrest

As I was gazing at the outpost, admiring the position held by proud Ambrian troops not long ago, now engulfed in scorching flame and columns of smoke, the medic walked back to me. "God, where'd they get this stuff?" She asked, and I did not have an answer for her question. Instead, I turned to her before making my way to a nearby jeep.

"You did well today, Ensign." - I simply said. I couldn't say much, I couldn't think very well after everything that happened today.

As I got myself in one of the jeeps of the extraction convoy, a loud explosion set off somewhere in the trenches, blowing dust and dirt all across its blast radius. Yet, the shocking sound soon blended in with the continuing gunfire from the outpost, and it went unheard for most of the extracting Ambrians, as they were either too shocked by the chain of disastrous events that befell us today, or too occupied helping the injured and others. As for the injured, some were treated right away by the field medics - gotta admire their efforts - while the more severely injured ones were given morphine and transported to FOB first. Though, needless to say, their chances are slim . . .

Upon making it back to the FOB, I left the troopers to unload themselves and the wounded, and headed towards CO, Captain Wiltshire. Although he was behind the frontline during most of the assault on the outposts, the man sure looked pissed. While normally an agreeable man, everyone has their limits.

We headed for communications, where we received a thorough report on our situation at the time. And things are looking bad. What happened out there was clearly a deliberate, coordinated attack aimed to encircle Ambrian forces in Grindes. And worse: enemy jammers in the area means that we're completely cut-off. The rest of the world have no idea we're being attacked, so outside support is out the window. Armoured support might be a considerable option, but report says that 3rd Armoured Battalion is getting hit pretty hard, so I doubt they could spare us any tanks.

So with that said, there is really only one option for us to make: take out those jammers and pray help arrives before they choke the Life out of us with their encirclement. What we might be looking at is one or two strike teams, minimal men to infiltrate through the enemy line, then locate and eliminate these jammers. To ensure their success, some diversion from the main unit might be required as well, to catch the enemy's attention. But that's just my thoughts, it's all up to the CO to make the decision.

Leaving the radio room and the rather irritated NCO, I accompanied the Captain to the courtyard, where he had an officer assemble the troops.

 

[LoneSniper87]

Ensign Ashley Winter

I had no idea where to go at first, when we returned to base. I felt an obligation to go with the Lieutenant, but also to just head to the medical tent an see what can be done. I stood there indecisive, but then I saw the Captain and the Lieutenant come out of the comms tent. I quickly sprung forward and walked towards the two saluting as I stepped into line next to the Lieutenant. "Afternoon, Captain." I said, a bit weary. I took off my helmet and smoothed out my hair, clipping my helmet to my belt.

 

[darth]

LCpl. Landon Savage
Outside Grindes, Femos
1435 hours FST

Landon shook himself out of his dazed state, and began walking through the checkpoint of the F.O.B. The long convoy of jeeps seemed to endlessly roll on into the base. Each jeep was sliced to pieces, and riddled with holes. The tracks in the dirt left blood trailing, and turned the dirt a dark red. Landon walked up alongside the slow-moving vehicles. The soldiers that rode within each jeep looked off into the distance, pale and quiet. Their faces made the situation more eerie, them not changing expression in the light of recent battle and amid the sounds of wounded men. Nearly every unfortunate soldier Landon observed had been wounded in some way, be it mentally or physically.

Landon passed on from the convoy and walked further into the interior. The scene gave off a different atmosphere than that of the shambling jeeps. These soldiers ran by Landon in much hurry. He saw sergeants barking orders, corpsman tending to the wounded, and grunts filling their magazines with ammunition. It appeared these soldiers were preparing to meet the enemy, although the convoy hinted towards a slow retreat. Had the line fallen? Why are they running? Questions filled Landon's mind as he proceeded. A more important question surfaced; what were we going to do now?

Landon turned his head to see The company CO; Richter Wiltshire exiting the communications building. He was accompanied by the company XO: Elizabeth Forrest and a few other officers. They walked out the door speaking to one another, perhaps about the unit's current predicament. Landon watched and listened as they passed him. They said something about radio jammers, which explained Landon's radio troubles. They both looked fairly well given the circumstance. Their eyes alert and bodies tense. It occurred to Landon that these senior officers had been shifted into gear. They walked with purpose and conviction, ready to execute a plan of attack.

An officer from Wiltshire's retinue began to shout and urged everyone nearby to gather. Landon turned to meet the officer's request and was soon joined by many other soldiers at his side. The soldiers that now stood beside Landon looked shaken and dirtied. These troops probably came from the recent engagement Landon thought. The huddle of soldiers hummed with commotion, each one asking and discussing the questions that occurred to Landon moments earlier. Landon stayed quiet in the endeavor but remained to listen. The officer cleared his throat to seize the group's attention. He then began to speak.

 

[Velkyn]

Róża Helminski
Day 1 of Deployment: Approx. 1430 hours
Unwounded
Recuperating
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'Piekło'

Roza almost fell of the truck as her adrenaline began to fade out of her body. Her legs nearly buckled when they hit the ground, and she wondered how she was going to make it here. To her, the ten minutes she spent fighting in those trenches felt like hours. She looked around the encampment, watching the wounded being loaded out of the back of many transports vehicles. She saw many blood-soaked stretchers, and her heart sank through her chest. She looked down at her boots as she began to walk away from the truck, separating herself from that sight.
"She was a fighter, a soldier, but..."
Roza swallowed her disgust and stood to the side of the trucks, taking a small time to compose herself. She busied herself with running over her gear, checking her magazines and weapons, and noticed a few things missing. Somewhere, she lost a MP9 magazine, most likely when she changed them. She was missing a few other things as well, a chem light off her belt, and a few tools off of it as well. She sighed, and slowly refit everything to her waist.
"I'll have to make do"
She looked up, and was surprised to see a column of men already forming. She could see a unfamiliar NCO beckoning to her, his face red with emotion; most likely anger. She nodded and made her way into the lines, falling behind a stout young man. The soldiers buzzed with a frantic conversation, but who wouldn't after experiencing what they did. She stood in her gear, completely informal and against protocol, but she didn't stick out. Well, besides the lack of heavy equipment. She watched the flustered officer talk to a calm, stoic man, the one he took orders from. She watched as he walked in front of the forming column, his temper restrained now. She listened as he took in a breath, and everyone else did too.
"Next round of orders is now"

 

[Kabboom]

(for anyone who hasn't posted yet The Cobalt Killer The Omen of Death Illusive Loki777 Elekta Kount adrian_ Pilgrim59 Trappy DanTheMan LoneSniper87 Velkyn darth Dak )

 

[Pilgrim59]

Day 1 - 14:35:03 FST (Femos Standard Time)
Designate: N/A
Pfc. Dimitri "Essie" Mayakovsky
22nd Division, 3rd Battalion, B Company
FOB, Grindes, Femos

"Da, tovarisch. Right behind you, Faris."

Dimitri said as he followed Faris towards the tent, with his rifle in his hands. Faris was probably the first soldier that Dimitri had fought beside for the longest time since his arrival. Most of his associates were either wounded or killed in action. Dimitri was glad that his companion was still alive, after the hell they've been through. In his head, the gunfire won't stop, it was still ringing in his ears. He brushed away his grief and emotions, as they pass the multitude of cold bodies being stacked at the other end of the tent. It was quite a scene to take in for Dimitri. Many young men and women in their bloodied uniforms, were lying in the sidewalk, thousands of miles from home.

It was then and there, Dimitri kept to himself, that he must survive this war at the very least. He held tightly onto his rifle as they approach the tent, awaiting his next set of orders.

 

[Kabboom]

July 18, 2017
1436hrs
D Company's 22nd day in Grindes

Cpt. Richter Wiltshire

"Right! Listen up." I piped up, taking center stage. Most, if not all of the soldiers have their attention directed at my voice. "Things are fucked up right now. As you know, we've lost all 3 COPs, and just to shit on us, our boys have ample reason to believe the enemy is deploying jammers to prevent us from radioing out for support. Now, the good news is, thanks to data from our sensors before they went out, we've triangulated possible locations for these jammers, and we can take them out and re-establish communications. Bad news is..."

I pause, as my mind goes off, playing a guessing game on who's gonna go out there to actually do this wild shit. It's a lot to ask of them. But we're soldiers. It doesn't matter how we got here, or why we're here. It doesn't matter what we believe in, or what we don't believe in. What matters is, we're soldiers. We stick together, and take one for the team.

With those thoughts in mind, I finish my sentence, though everyone has probably figured out the answer for themselves. "...Someone's gotta go out there and destroy 'em. We have limited artillery support, and no solid intel on enemy composition beyond these walls. So, any volunteers?"

I'm playing a dangerous game here. What if the jammers aren't there? Then I'll probably be over-extended, and if we ever get out of here at all, I'm gonna have to live with the fact that I sent the men and women who volunteered to their deaths. I'm torn between the lives of the few and the lives of the many. But what needs to be done must be done.

I glance around the men, as a silent, yet loud series of isolated and shared murmurs and hushed conversations erupted among the ranks. People asking each other to go, or not to go. So many questions, so little answers. But hopefully, someone will volunteer. Someone always volunteers.

The Cobalt Killer The Omen of Death Illusive Loki777 Elekta Kount adrian_ Pilgrim59 Trappy DanTheMan LoneSniper87 Velkyn darth Dak

 

[Velkyn]

Róża Helminski
Day 1 of Deployment: Approx. 1430 hours
Unwounded
----------------------------------------------------------------
Róża listened as the man spoke, thinking as he was quickly drowned out in murmurs of conversations. She looked around carefully, most looked at their boots or the ground, trying not to be noticed. Others seemed anxious, constantly scanning their comrades to see if anyone was actually crazy enough. She turned her head and looked at the men still at work, carrying bodies to a tent from the many trucks lined against the compounds wall. She looked for a second, not hearing what the crowd was whispering. She heard the Captain speak again, but his voice didn't make it to her mind. She stood in silence for a moment as she wondered where she would be most useful.
Where she could save the most lives.
"I'm in." She said, her accent straining through her voice. She raised her hand and repeated herself, just to make sure she was heard over the crowd. A few around her fell silent, and she could feel their eyes on her. She looked up at the Captain for a moment, then back down to a larger man beside her. He was much older than her, probably had a good ten years on her, she thought. He gave her a look of sympathy and warning, on of "She doesn't know what she just volunteered for.". She shrugged her shoulders at him and looked up to the Captain again, wondering if anyone else would come along.
After all, this is what she trained for.