Realistic or Modern Ｂｅｓｉｅｇｅｄ

[darth]

LCpl. Landon Savage
Outside Grindes, Femos
1437 hours FST

Landon listened intently as Wiltshire explained the situation. It appeared their unit was in a difficult spot. Lots of enemy contact closing in as well as the apparent possibility of radio jammers in the area. Landon thought this to be reasonable, after all he did have trouble with his radio before hand. As Wiltshire continued, he mentioned that he needed a team to go find these jammers. He needed volunteers. "That's one hell of a request..." Landon said to himself below the light murmurs of the soldiers. Going out there like that; no location, no detail.

It was a shot in the dark with our eyes closed...

"Its suicide..." Landon thought, and he took a quick glance around the troops. It looked like every one of them was thinking the same thing. Landon worried for a moment that the men would cry out in annoyance. He worried the men would be unwilling to go. Despite its grim odds, Landon thought, someone had to go. It's a wild take on chance, but it could may as well be the difference between getting out, and getting shot. Landon concluded that if no one else would go then he would. "Someone has got to...We need to..." he thought as he prepared to raise his voice.

Just then, however, his voice was suddenly compelled to refrain as a young woman raised her hand and spoke.

"I'm in..." she said, her accent heavy in her voice.

Landon looked over and saw her hand outstretched above the shoulders of the men. She was then isolated in a small circle to herself, and many of the troops went quiet. Wiltshire looked over at her, sizing her up it seemed. Landon looked at her and saw only determination and conviction in her eyes.

She wanted to fight...

"I'll go too..." Landon said after a brief moment of silence. More surprised looks surrounded him. Landon felt as though he was doing the right thing, even if it meant the worst.

Velkyn Kabboom

 

[Trappy]

(bump for others Pilgrim59 LoneSniper87 Dak we'll move out soon)

 

[LoneSniper87]

( Trappy i posted already
Edit: post is warranted nvm)

 

[LoneSniper87]

Ensign Ashley Winter

Jammers? Where do insurgents get this kind of tech. Who's helping them? "Well." I began, glancing to the Captain from the LT's side. "If these jammers are causing this much trouble, then they need to be gone. Because right now we need supplies, and reinforcements, by my judgement. I'll go too, boss." I said, stepping down into the crowd of soldiers, next to the two who volunteered. "Lady, gentlemen. I'm Ensign Ashley Walker, call me as you like so long as I recognize it, I'll be your medic for the trip. And who might you two be?" I asked quietly, mainly so only they could hear.

darth Velkyn

 

[Pilgrim59]

Day 1 - 14:39:18 FST (Femos Standard Time)
Designate: N/A
Pfc. Dimitri "Essie" Mayakovsky
22nd Division, 3rd Battalion, B Company
FOB, Grindes, Femos

Dimitri pondered for a moment as few of those who are willing to do it right by their nation stepped up. He scrutinized their faces, the brave men and women of Ambria, whose courage found in themselves and in their comrades. He was reluctant to give in to the call, as he had promised to stay alive, at least until the end.

He could still see their faces and hear their voices, those who had passed in battle. Tears flowed from his eyes, as he clenched his teeth. He enlisted in hope of finding adventure and a place in the new world, and now, in the crossroad of his path, was his final question of commitment. Will he give in to the call of duty or see to it that his goal to survive be fulfilled? No, he said in his mind, as he exited the crowd, patting Faris on the shoulder as he left.

"Chyort... tomorrow there won't be any shortage of volunteers for the war anyways..."

Dimitri circled around the crowd and towards the volunteers. There, he stood with his hands interlocked in front of his rifle. He quickly took notice of the Ensign's approach as well as the rest of the team's presence. Dimitri knew... that there was no turning back now...

"...You guys will need a reservist to carry the gears, da?"

 

[Kabboom]

July 18, 2017
1440hrs
D Company's 22nd day in Grindes

Cpt. Richter Wiltshire

As the silence persisted, a feeling of guilt and immense pressure begun to dawn upon me, pushing me down into my boots until I was no longer a Captain of a military unit; merely a sentient hermit crab, hiding from its predators. But then volunteers came. Or rather, appeared from the seemingly faceless crowd of soldiers. A lone scout girl, with a slight accent in her voice, with a raised hand and a stern determination in her.

I glanced over to her immediately, the hermit crab moving over as the Captain returns. The entire crowd went quiet almost immediately, with some people around her visibly moving away from my sight lines, leaving the girl as the only thing within my view. That is, until the big guy volunteered as well. He was a big guy, though it probably took him a surprisingly long time to utter those few words. But I can't blame any of my men for hesitating. This is basically a one-way trip to the place 6 feet under, like voluntarily turning yourself over to some deep-web Femosi propaganda reel, with the main spectacle being your lifeless corpse, paraded through the middle of a Femosi tank column or something.

And, even to my own surprise, the medic that I encountered several times prior, volunteered third. She stated the obvious, which probably contributed to coercing some other soldiers to rethink this. And evidently, she did. A few more troopers joined her shortly afterwards, with one Rasvayan-looking guy approaching the now isolated group of volunteers a milisecond before the Ensign did. Nice. That makes... 4. Huh.

But as my eyebrows furrowed against each other at the realization, some sort of unseen force answered my questions and prayers. My eyes were drawn towards the entrance, where a dozen men, armed with hand-me-down weapons and equipment, with some still in civilian clothing, approaching us in a rather unprofessional and loud manner, the dirt shuffling roughly beneath their sandals and garden boots.

"Allo man. You da Captan of this here-e base?" bellowed the "leader" of the group, almost spitting in my face. The guy was black all over, and I can't tell if it's because of the sun, or his genetics. The guy had a red Anidas tracksuit on, its three white stripes partially obscured by a few bandages on his left arm, and a gun sling on his right. As I was about to respond to this guy, a second, slightly smaller guy, wearing a red T-shirt underneath his bandolier of 7.62mm ammunition, clearly to supplement his M60, which he holds as if it were his firstborn baby. The guy was, thankfully, a lot more intelligible and formal than his tracksuit leader.

"Pardones my frend, ser. He is not really good at-e English. We are de local militia who protect-e the flank of B Company. Dureng the fight-ink, we had te retreat, and found this base. We are undeh your command. If you are Captan, ser." To be fair, I shouldn't expect better grammar and pronunciation from these guys. Can't criticize your comrade, especially when he is quintessential to your defenses. I responded quickly enough, as I could feel my troops glance at me in amazement and confusion. These guys really did come from nowhere. Normally, I'd shit all over them on a report, but in desperate times like these, reports are the least of my problems.

I'll shit all over them later.

"Yes, I am the Captain. Listen, we're in need of volunteers for a mission to destroy enemy equipment. They're in enemy areas, but if we destroy them, we'll have radio again. Very important. Can you join? We need all the help." I said to T-shirt, using simple words so that he understands. The guy nodded semi-politely, and turned to the rest of his comrades, explaining in their native language. After a bout of silence, the Anidas guy nodded, and T-shirt confirmed with a nod and a thumbs-up. "We volunteer, Captan. Ready to go."

I nodded, and returned to my men, actual soldiers, as the platoon of militiamen walked into the comfort of the shadows and leaning on the Hesco walls, some scrubbing dirt out of the insides of their boots, as the red Anidas guy stands leisurely, with T-shirt on translator duty next to him, his M60 leaning on the Hesco wall. "Alright, you heard the guys. All of you who volunteered, I salute you all for your courage. Those who didn't, I don't blame you. It's a tough call, and no one will judge you on whether or not you volunteered." I said with a clear voice, loud enough for the entire base to hear me. I then dismissed the crowd back to their posts, and gathered around the volunteers.

The group of volunteers, along with Anidas and T-shirt, followed me into the radio room, where the guy who gave me the sitrep, is waiting patiently with a map circled and labeled clearly, as per my orders, delivered to him via another NCO. "Alright, gather 'round." I said, leaning slightly onto the table and looking over the map, waiting for the volunteers to awkwardly shuffle into a suitable position, with Anidas and T-shirt eyed heavily by the radio guy. I can tell he didn't expect the local militia to show up.

"Tech-heads have triangulated all the probable jammer locations, and have chosen the most probable ones here, circled in red." I glance over them, and find these things to be... not as deep behind enemy lines as I thought. 500-600m away from the COPs. If it were up to me, I'd put them a bit further away, but now is not the time for hypothetical bullshit. Besides, with enemy opposition taken into account, that's far enough. "We have two locations roughly 550 meters away from the Northwest COP, and another location some 600 meters to the direct North of Northeast COP. Artillery support is available for you, but I can't guarantee that for all the way, as enemy counter-artillery may be in effect, so use arty sparingly and only when needed. Armored units have also been sighted and some have been neutralized near the two COPs, so I'd advise some anti-tank weapons."

As I finish, I lift my head up, and glance around the room. "Any questions?"

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

Sgt. Faris Woods

Oh, jeez. That's a lot. Oh, god. I maintain a thick silence, as I thought over the thing. Goddamn, how did things get this bad? How could I have anticipated this whole thing happening? If I'd known, if I'd known... it started so normally, with my wake-up call, my breakfast... now almost everyone from my platoon is gone, save for that stupid Medina and some of my Privates. God, I could still hear their voices and screams. How they yelled in tortuous fear and agony. How they called for aid, which never came their way.

I glanced over to Essie- Dimitri, as the volunteers begun to appear. I could see something in his eyes. Some kind of foolish determination, as if he's- oh no. How could he, how could he? He's condemned himself to death. And we were just getting together.

I couldn't leave him like that. This can't be the end, I kinda like the guy. A great fighter, with a good heart. Why does God always take the nice ones? No, no, I can't let the guy be alone and just fucking... die. No. No way. Too much blood has been spilled on my hands. No one else I know is going to die today. If anything, I'm gonna be the one who's gonna do the dying. Hopefully. Oh shit, can I take that back?

Too late.

I've already stepped forward, the men in front of me moving out of the way, like Moses splitting the Red Sea. Or something like that. I can't think in this heat. I shuffled in between the ranks of the lonely volunteers, as I begun to notice a few shadows behind me, moving shortly after I stepped out of line. Then a familiar voice whispered into my left ear.

"Hey there."

Goddamnit, Medina.

"Why are you here? Why did you volunteer?" I inquired her, noticing a duo of Privates whose faces look familiar behind her, also having volunteered. "You're still our squad leader. Wherever you go, we go, remember?" She said, almost cockily, with that shit-eating grin on her face, even in these times. Sweat pools on my entire body, as the Captain deals with some junk militiamen. "Yeah, yeah, I remember. Don't need you lecturing my ass. Should be the other way 'round." I said with a dismissive voice, and I could just catch a widening grin as I returned to full-attention.

As we entered the room, I listened to the Captain intently and trained my eyes on those circles of red on the well-lit map. My ears listen closely and carefully for any questions. I do hope they ask questions. I sure do.

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

 

[LoneSniper87]

Ashley Winter

I'm starting to regret this decision...

As we walked to the radio room, my doubt hit me. A million what if's hit me simultainiously, and it only got worse when 4 more entered the tent. I couldn't handle the lives of ten people, by myself. My hands shook at my sides, and I stuffed them into my pockets to hide them. Breathe I thought, and took several deep breaths to still my racing mind.

After the Captain finished speaking, I nodded slowly. "Let's set a few things straight, if that's alright. I feel it would be best if we had a translator for our militia comrades here, for ease of communication. Also..." I stopped for a moment. I had no right to be directing this team. I was probably no where near being able to command, rank aside. But I guess nobody has complained thus far. My silence was only the briefest pause.

"We need to find out what everyone is strong at. If you can aim an AT rocket, please say so. Know your way around curcitry? That is very damn useful." I told them. "Also, let's get introductions out of the way, yeah? I'm Ensign Ashley Miller, your medic for the duration of this operation. Next?" I offered, looking to the others, confidence now in my eyes, not worry or self-doubt. It may have been temporary, or just a nice facadé, but I certainly wouldn't notice.

Kabboom Velkyn Pilgrim59

 

[Pilgrim59]

Day 1 - 14:41:02 FST (Femos Standard Time)
Designate: N/A
Pfc. Dimitri "Essie" Mayakovsky
22nd Division, 3rd Battalion, B Company
FOB, Grindes, Femos

Dimitri listened attentively to the Captain as the briefing went along well enough with no questions or oppositions for the plan. Before long, he realized that his life wasn't the only one hanging in the balance, as Faris and his squadmates stepped up alongside him. He kept it cool, watching and studying their faces before the Ensign's voice broke the sporadic chatters among the volunteers. He thought he'd have to get to know them better and do his best for what is coming their way, at the very least. It wasn't an obligation, it was just the right thing to do. If he wasn't going to live, he'd be glad if his companions, including Faris could make it home alive. Dimitri held tightly onto his rifle as he raises his voice, accompanied by a few nervous squeaks in his tone.

"Private Dimitri Mayakovsky. More than happy to carry all the gears you need, comrades. Handling explosives and AT ordnance are my weakness, so I'll do my best with my rifle and bayonet."

Dimitri looked at the others, awaiting their go at introductions, while thoughts flood his mind with what he would do best in the field. It definitely wasn't handling specialized equipment. He was only capable at traditional warfare, which required the enemies to approach him in close-quarter or at least be engaged in a medium-range skirmish. At the end of the day, Dimitri was your average rifleman, with a little know-how in close-quarter combat. He is at best, in the other's eyes, a reservist newbie - which was exactly the type of job he was looking for.

 

[darth]

LCpl. Landon Savage
Outside Grindes, Femos
1445 hours FST

Landon listened to Wiltshire speak; He labeled the mission a "tough call." A call that had to be made Landon thought, regardless of the risk. Landon knew exactly what he was getting into. He wasn't necessarily ready, but he was definitely willing. Landon usually didn't agree with last ditch efforts, but he couldn't blame Wiltshire for the circumstances, nor did the Captain force the plan upon his men. Wiltshire appeared to be hesitant at first but the feeling was brief. He seemed like second thoughts ran through his mind but we're quickly chased away.

Wiltshire's briefing was suddenly interrupted as he noticed the large group of men amassing near the entrance way. Landon turned his head to find a peculiar looking band of local militiamen. Though in a somewhat simple english voice, the leader said him and his men were at the Captain's disposal. Wiltshire nodded as he turned back to his own. Landon took an extra moment to analyze the militiamen's appearance. They were ill-equipped to say the least. Most of them wore shorts and sandals, some even not wearing shoes at all. Their leader brandished a bright red track suit. Hardly soldiers at all...

Landon looked away from the group as Wiltshire dismissed them. He then quickly ended the briefing and sent us to prepare. The area was slowly vacated, and the un certain volunteers gathered around eachother. An Ensign medic by the name of Ashley Winter began to speak, and laid out a framework of a plan. She also mentioned if anyone of them could handle specific tasks or carry special munitions. One of the soldiers resposonded, and stated his name: Dimitri Mayakovsky. He said he was a riflemen and was going to put his rounds and bayonet to good use.

Landon then said his name aloud to the group. "Landon," he said "Just point out the bastards for me." Landon gestured to his LMG meeting in his arms. "And I'll lay 'em out for you..."

Pilgrim59 LoneSniper87

 

[Trappy]

Lt. Elizabeth Forrest

In the dim-lighted radio room, I get a good look of those bravely volunteered into what might very well be a one-way trip. The survivability of our forces here depends on the outcome of this expedition beyond the enemy line. God knows how much I wish for another solution to this jammer problem. Damn it, enough of these thoughts already, we can't let down their courage, I can't.

As Wiltshire wraps up his briefing, a voice raised, with reasonable proposes of planning and preparation. I couldn't miss that voice, though she might need a reminder with that tone, the chain of command exists. That ensign, Ashley Winter, I believe. We've been through hell and back today. Her ideas make me feel relieved, as clearly she knows what she is doing. This medic might have more in her than we give her credits for. I mean, she did look after me and that sergeant while managing herself in the trench earlier today. She is throwing her life on the line for the entire unit this time. Admirable.

My eyes meet with the CO's. Though no words spoken, I get the feeling he feels the same way. We must not let their courage and effort be in vain. As everyone finishes suggesting for the planning of the mission and their introduction, I speak up.

"We're now all aware of the jammers' proposed locations, bear in mind that it is highly possible that they're swarmed with hostile forces. Based on what happened earlier today, we have to operate under the idea that the areas around Grindes are occupied by the rebels. So it will be a tight ride." -I pause, and swallow what feels like solidified doubts, worries and fear. - "We'll try to create some activities to distract the hostiles as you infiltrate their line. And for that-" -I gesture towards the militia group's leader and his translator on the other side of the table.- "-Your knowledge of the terrains might help us pull this one through, mister . . .?"

The man in T-shirt turns to his leader, mumble something. "Anam Deriv." -He said plainly, and loud enough for everyone to hear, before speaking to his friend, or perhaps subordinate, some Femosi. Come to think of it, we were deployed in Femos without having much knowledge on the language. Fucking gold.

The translator . . . well, translates, for us. "My frend agrees you, madam. He tinks we pass rebels in da bushesh ee-zee. Just follow us careful ya? Also, frend Anam asks op artilleh-reh range op your artilleh-rie guns. He tinks we might needa dem. Also . . . " -He gestured towards Ensign Winter- "Hao manii op you can good with ah-teh? We hab a few, but we needa take as manii as we can get for dis. Ah! Name iz Biela. Biela translates for Anam."

Wow.

But hey, I shouldn't expect too perfect punctuations and grammar from these folks, at least we understand each others now. Maybe we can actually pull this one through.

 

[Trappy]

(Bump Velkyn )

 

[Kabboom]

July 18, 2017
1446hrs
D Company's 22nd day in Grindes

Cpt. Richter Wiltshire

For a second there, I thought the room would remain in perpetual awkward silence. That everyone would say no word, for one reason or another. That I would be stuck here, and the hermit crab would re-emerge again. Part of me also wanted some bizarre shit to happen. Most specifically, for all of this to just be an elaborate, poorly-timed April Fools (even though I am well aware that it is July, not April), and some jester looking figure would just poke his stupid head through the window and spook me with his poor grammar and punctuation. "Hehe, twas jok! No worr, just jok!" Is what I'd imagine the jester would say.

But enough of this bullshit about jesters and 'joks'. Because the people are actually asking questions. First to speak was the medic, Ashley, I think. Understandable demand for AT rocket launchers, but if I remember correctly, we mostly have those outdated M72 LAWs in stock, with a handful of AT4s at the ready. Part of the 'benefits' of being stationed in a secondary position.

Second to voice their opinion was the Rasvayan-ish guy, Private Dimitri Mayakovsky. Of course, he can't actually fire the goddamn rocket launchers. But, judging from his reservist posture and overall stature, it's probably for the best if he sticks to what he knows, and pray that he hits what he shoots with that SKS. Good rifle, but a bit outdated in these times.

Third to speak up was the big guy, identified as Landon. A weird name, but I've heard weirder. He's an LMG guy. I've spoken to one or two LMG gunners before, and the way they described the weight of their guns... I don't think anyone can get this guy to carry a LAW, or God forbid, an AT4.

And now, finally, the elephant(s) in the room. After my XO spoke up, giving out more information on the possible enemy composition. The track suit leader, identified as Anam by his red T-shirt translator friend, Biela, says he can get our little volunteer squad through the bush areas easily, and he also wants to know the range on our artillery guns. He also wants to know how many of us can actually use an AT weapon. Alright.

"Many of us can use rocket. And artillery, range is..." I point at the map, trying to visualize the range, both for the team and for myself. My fingers find their way and draw a curved line, encompassing all red circles, save one, which is furthest away, 620 meters direct North of the Northeast COP. "...here. Only few shots. Fire carefully. How many of you can use rocket?" I ask Biela, using the simplest words I can think of without sounding like a condescending prick.

After a repeat of what I just said to Anam, Biela nods, and just asks one more question. "Ok, Captan, we habe 3 who can ah-teh. Captan, who-ill lead on dis misson?" After glancing around, and trying to remember names, I found a Sergeant. Highest ranking guy in the volunteer squad. A short question gives me his name: Faris Woods. I point to the guy, with an open palm. "Sgt. Faris Woods. As highest-ranking officer, he will lead this mission."

I glance over the faces of everyone within the room. Brave men and women. Not ready to die, but willing to face it for others. I wish I could have even half of their courage, and maybe I would get more shit done. Just maybe. Maybe. "This is a tough call, but you willingly signed up for this. I cannot blame you for any failures you might face, but I can thank you all for serving me. And serving Ambria as a whole. Good luck, and godspeed." I say to everyone. "If there are no further questions, then the meeting's over." I say, still lingering over the final moments of this briefing. Don't want them to die with questions in their heads.

Pilgrim59 LoneSniper87 Trappy darth Velkyn

 

[Kabboom]

July 18, 2017
1447hrs
D Company's 22nd day in Grindes

Cpt. Richter Wiltshire

"Alright. May all of you get out alive. Now let's go destroy some jammers!" I said, trying to sound tough, or enthusiastic, or courageous. One of those words. Though I had no confidence in my words whatsoever. In my whole career as a commanding officer, not once have I heard of or witnessed a squad sent into enemy territory virtually unsupported, and re-emerging without losing anyone, or returning at all. Well, there was that one time when... but no, the guy was terribly mangled from the grenade. What about that other time... no, I remember how that played out. Didn't rub well on me (and the clean-up guys too).

I open the door for these guys, and point out the locations of any necessities they think they'll need for their mission. I think I covered just about everything discussed in the briefings, with the AT weapons in that tent about 20 meters away from us, and the ammunition storage tent, about 40 meters away. Not really military protocol to store ammo so close, but to be honest, I'd be surprised if the ammo inside even manages to tear the tent down. Like I said, part of the 'benefits' of being stationed in a secondary position. Last of which was the medical tent, where they can stock up on any extra bandages and first aid kids if needed. As for transports, I don't think they'll mind riding on the jeeps they came in on. Pick whichever ones they want.

As they walked away to do their own things, and probably head out after 5 minutes, a NCO approaches me. Something about logistics. I tried to dismiss the guy for now, but he was determined, hard-pressed to speak to me. Something serious then, I presume. I finally turn to the guy. "Go on. Report."

Clearing his throat nervously, with gulps of saliva as the heat gets to him, the poor lad spoke. "Sir, we are desperately low on supplies. Cut off from outside support, and the jammers preventing us from contacting the main city, we only have enough food for 5 days, and water for 3. As for ammo and medical supplies, we only have a dozen ammo canisters of 5.56mm and half a dozen 7.62mm ammo canisters from that cache we acquired last week, plus 20 AT weapons, not to mention fuel and manpower. That's all, sir." The guy saluted me, and quietly dismissed himself as my eyebrows furrowed in thought. We really need those jamming fucks dead.

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

Sgt. Faris Woods

Welp. That's mission start for us. Thanks to Cpt. Wiltshire's instructions and directions, we all go our separate ways, heading more or less to the same areas. Ammo, guns, bandages, maybe a syringe or two in the case of that medic Ensign, then the jeeps.

Damn. I can't believe it. My first big, truly big task. And of course, it's a suicide mission. Some 30 souls, give or take a few, and they're all in my hands. I don't think I can bear the weight of this responsibility. Not for long, at least. Somehow, it makes me admire Cpt. Richter a bit more. How he could keep us all under command, and keep such a cool head. How he does that, I don't know. And if this mission is gonna go how I think it's gonna go, then I probably will never know. Dead men don't learn. After all, they're probably dead because of that in the first place.

I head to the AT tent first and foremost; bullets would be nice, but everyone knows small arms can't hurt a T-64. Shit, you wouldn't even the scratch the paint with just a rifle. Gotta know how many rockets we actually have first, before we decide what to bring. As I enter, I am somewhat disappointed, but surprised at the same time. First off... is this it? Fucking really? 18 rocket launchers, and 2 dusty-ass SPG-model weapons we found on a cache raid recently. But on the flip side, out of those 18 rocket launchers, 8 of them are AT4s. Better than those shitty LAWs.

I grab as much as I can, mostly the AT4s. In the end, I somehow manage to fit 6 rocket launchers onto me, mostly through the usage of the slings on the LAWs. At least they're compact. I make my way out to the jeeps, and just picked the one that looked the least shot-up, which was a tougher thing to do than I thought. Goddamn, they really shot us to shit.

I got into a jeep with only the shotgun seat's window (mostly) intact, as the soldier mopping some poor dude's fleshy bits out of the jeep floor moves out of the way for me to get in. I lay the things down, and just sit in the bullet-ridden seat for a while, my helmet almost scraping the jeep ceiling. Pfc. Medina and the two Privates are getting some ammo from the tent, with one Private (the guy armed with the M16A1) carrying a whole ammo canister with him. A bit... optimistic.

Then I saw the militia guys. They were just standing there in a group, acting like civilians who just happen to have guns. Granted, they are basically that, but now's not the time. Most, if not all of them, are smoking like it's their last cigarette they'll ever have. Can't blame 'em, for all I know, that really is their final cigarette.

Not if I can do anything about it.

"Ey! Over here! Come, come!" I shouted to them, grabbing their attention whilst I hold a M72 LAW on my right hand. I'm gonna show 'em how to kill a tank. Just hope they can actually remember how to do this; and not hold the thing backwards. Last thing I want is to get killed by a rocket to the face because some junkie forgot how directional arrows work.

Pilgrim59 LoneSniper87 Trappy darth Velkyn

 

[LoneSniper87]

Ensign Ashley Winter

Oh boy, here we are. Clock's ticking... I make my way first to the ammo tent, setting my empty clips on a shelf and then taking out a box of 5.56 and filling them back up. I probably took a quarter of the box, but I only took what I had to start. Then I moved to medical tent, greeting the others with a brief nod as I took to looking at what we had. I opened up my medical kit and what he had in stock. I took a few syringes of morphine, some more bandage rolls, then thread for stitching. I'm surprised at how integral sewing is in surgery, but I digress.

I walked out from the medical tent and went to the jeep where Sgt. Farris was located, taking a seat behind him. "Ready, Sergeant?" I asked, leaning back into my seat and putting my helmet on. The visor came down and my face was gone, I almost looked like some pilot, about to take flight. Not that command cared much I looked like I belonged in a Huey and not on the ground as an infantrymen. It was one less helmet that needed to be manufactured.

Velkyn Pilgrim59 Trappy darth Kabboom

 

[Pilgrim59]

Day 1 - 14:49:58 FST (Femos Standard Time)
Designate: N/A
Pfc. Dimitri "Essie" Mayakovsky
22nd Division, 3rd Battalion, B Company
FOB, Grindes, Femos

It was time to step off into the field once again. Dimitri dragged himself over to the supply tent, shaking off the trembles of his hands and feet. He filled up his vest with fresh 7.62's and an extra webbing of ammo which slung across his torso from his waist. Knowing from his past experience with grenades, Dimitri avoided grabbing any ordnance except for a 57mm Kromuskit recoiless-rifle in the unlikely event of an APC sneaking up on them. Recalling the events at the bridge, Dimitri is just as good as his cautious thoughts. He turned around and caught a familiar sound.

Meowww

Sasha has returned! Dimitri broke his indifferent face and held the cat close in his arms, running his gloved fingers over her back. He was relieved and happy to see his feline companion was still intact. Drying up his teary eyes, he got up and gave her a treat from his torn rations. Even as a dedicated soldier, Dimitri has a soft heart for the little things. After a brief minute of the reunion, Dimitri snatched his rifle from atop the working desk and the rest of his gears. He studied in awe at the vast amount of captured equipment.

"I probably won't need a sidearm... or... ?"

Dimitri thought to himself, as he glance over a variety of unused bayonets. He grabbed a handful of the weathered blades and put them in his backpack. Perhaps it will be of use, or it won't. Dimitri was the only one who appreciated its value, or at least in his thoughts. He then grab some extra 5.56 ammunition for his comrades, in case of a prolonged skirmish, accompanied by two extra pack of field dressings. As Sasha finishes her snack, Dimitri held her in his palms and gave her a kiss before stepping outside the tent.

"Take good care of yourshelf. Maybe I won't return, I don't know... long as you make it out of here alive, I am content, comrade."

Dimitri got to the jeep and stored a few magazines into the back.

"I've brought extra 5.56 and field dressings, should you need them, Ensign."

"Hey, Faris, I've got you a Christmas present." *chuckles*

Dimitri pointed at his 5.7cm Kromuskit in the back, while waiting for the others to catch up.

LoneSniper87 Kabboom

 

[Trappy]

Valentina Luprecal

"Jeez, what's taking him so long?"

The voice wakes me from my nap. Right, I know. All that shit about 'it's not very professional and safe to fall asleep on duty' and whatnot. But come on, y'all gotta get strong and focus in a fight, so resting a bit is necessary before that. Plus, I dare you to not fall asleep in my boots. It's so hot outside I bet if I crack an egg onto the ground, I'll have me-self a sunny side up. We're all at ease in a crude field tent set up by the Hesco walls, and Sianka - a militia-buddy-boo of mine- has been playing some cheesy-ass tune with a harmonica he found somewhere (probably nicked it from some poor Ambrian infantryman).

Anyway, that aside, you probably have guessed who we are already, so I'll just keep it brief. We're a ragtag militia made up of some farmers, overly-excited younglings, and former Grindes City Watch - like me. So aside from ex-operators like myself, you can expect something like a scene out of those movies from the others: spraying bullets blindly from some cover or charging head-first at an MG nest while hip-firing. But don't get me wrong, even that can be lethal.

Moving on. First off, Mr. Impatient who rudely interrupted my slumber, otherwise known as Andras. Now he's a grumpy one, but don't let this fool you, friends, he can be a mean operator on the field with his AKS. And to be honest, I quite enjoy this angry little man. In fact, I might prefer him over his younger brother.

Ah yes, speaking of which, Andras has a younger bro: Turev. He's the quiet, reasonable type, or so he seems. I mean it's good, it kinda balances out the jumpy grumpy attitude Andras emits. A nice boy, genuine. But I just enjoy teasing his big bro more.

We have Sianka. Good plain Sianka. Although I heard he was once a rebel fighter, like those fanatic bigots that've been blasting tin at us earlier today. Not sure why, or how he switched sides, but I'm glad he did. And that means a lot. And then there are some others that I haven't really got to know. What? It's work not some jippery jolly cooperation. We barely got anytime free time since we got along with the Ambrians. Procedural perimeter checks and shit.

So why would a group like this wind up aiding the Ambrians in this hellhole of a continent, you might wonder. Well, as far as I know, most of us have some reasons to hate those fanatics more than these foreigners. Be it property appropriation, family member murdering, I don't know, and those sure aren't topics you should dig too deep into. You're better off asking them yourselves, if you're really that desperate for these kinds of information. As for me, I just hope I'm aiding the good guys. Plus, those Ambrians got that battlefield journalism thing. Who knows, the shit we do and experience here might be recorded by some guys doing desk-jobs. I don't mind being famous at all.

The breeze blows through our tent, carrying heat and some dust with it. I sit up on wooden chair I've tactically taken from the Ambrians, before taking up my Sterling SMG and resting it on my lap. Quite an antique piece of hardware, but we've been through a lot together and she hasn't failed me once. You can try to convince me, but in the end, I ain't trading this baby for those fancy shiny pipes that might overheat after a full-auto unload. Anyway, I wonder how Anam and Biela are holding up. I guess I'm getting jumpy like Andras, but gee, that felt like a day, and they aren't out yet. Can't wait to meet the Ambrian team for this op, and I'm fairly sure my buddies share my excitement.

(This post serves as introduction for the militias that will accompany the volunteer team.)

 

[LoneSniper87]

"Dimitri, right?" I asked, nodding at his words. "Thank you, I may need the extra hands. I could show you how to use those if you want. Isn't that hard." I said to him with a nod. That was 3 of us or so, only about that much left. "And I'm sure you are more than some pack mule, you volunteered, makes you worth more than most pack mules or infantry. Bravery is the currency of war, right?" I said, not sure if that was the correct quote, or a quote at all.

Kabboom Pilgrim59

 

[Velkyn]

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

Roza watched quietly as others followed suit, each one not entirely sure of their choice as she was. except a large man, who appeared to meander into the decision, as if he were pondering a short run. The crowd began to thin as they stepped forward, the brave men and women tired and fatigued. They stood tall and proud, and she felt a sense of brotherhood. Even though they were faces she had never seen, the pure willpower shown in the soldiers was inspiring. It gave her faith in there mission, no matter how suicidal it was.

And then the militia came.

Roza already had a rough time with English, the language that most here spoke. And this was, well, something else. Her mind trying to decipher what in the hell was coming out of this mans mouth was like a cat trying to catch its own tail. She almost wanted to tune them out, to block the gibberish out and ignore it. She felt sympathy for the Captain, seeing him struggle with the Dialect as well. Thankfully, another spoke up with something that resembled actual language. She could understand him, at least slightly. Apparently, they wanted to help, to aid in this mission.

"We do need as many as we could get."

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

She listened to the briefing intently, making sure to ponder every detail. However, there was little to debate about, the objective was simple. Open up communications again. She listened as the others introduced themselves, a little awkward at first, but they were all human. She took a breath once there was silence and spoke simply, trying to manage her tongue. "I'm Róża, Scout and Intelligence gather-er. I can fix some tings as well, and some people." Which was true. She had wanted to become a nurse originally, however years in a school and years spent in debt wasn't on her mind. She wasn't professionally trained, but she knew how to use the supplies she kept.

She listened to the conversation a bit, the mind numbing injections of the small group tearing her between laughing and lashing out. She watched as the others headed off to a tent, completely unmarked and ordinary, or at least she thought. She trailed them after a moment, sweeping the drapes over her head as she came inside. It was cool inside, and the sight of brass filled the room. Boxes of 556, crates of .50 and many other common rounds filled the room. Some stood empty, some opened, and a few still sealed. She found a small pile of boxes in the corner, a sticky note on the pallet of which they sat. "9x19mm P."

"Piękny"

Unpacking a few of the boxes of the small, stubby bullets, she began to thumb them into her magazines, the subtle clicking satisfying. One by one, the rounds stacked into the long magazines of her MP9 and the shorter's of her CZ's magazines. She left two loose rounds in her pocket once she finished, and stuffed a full box of 50 rounds into her backpack. She would find a few goodies in the supply room as well, namely a few smoke grenades and some small rations. She stuck the grenades onto her belt and packed the rations deep in her bag, sighing softly as she did. She would come to restock her medical, not sure if anyone else would have supplies or not. The staff seemed reluctant, but complied and spared a few bandages and ointments for her.

"It will have to do."

She stepped out and saw a small group of vehicles, one had a prominent looking man holding a launcher in the seat. He was yelling at the militia, and she laughed quietly to herself. She watched as they began to make their way over, and could only shake her head.

"Good luck to you." Was all she could say.

@kaboom Pilgrim59 LoneSniper87 Trappy darth

 

[Kabboom]

July 18, 2017
1452hrs
D Company's 22nd day in Grindes

Cpt. Richter Wiltshire

"What the fuck?" I blurted out in a mix of confusion and anger. My hands tightened their grip on the wooden table, as the two NCOs who have given me the bad news winced ever so slightly, possibly waiting for my raging fury to shit all over their uniform. The bad news: Through a very very exhausted courier-runner, we now have reports saying B Company has been permanently ousted from their original position. Rebels are swarming through the barracks, shooting and looting anything that moves. And that's not all.

Civilian informants have given us reports on the other units also in Grindes. The 3rd Armored Battalion, on the other side of Grindes, reports at least 60% casualties. Looks like the armor that hit them was a lot better than whatever hit us. They reported T-72Ms and even T-90s. Thought the Femosi didn't have T-90s! Grievous casualties. And the 7th Scout Company holding the West highway are holding firm, with 40% casualties, mostly to snipers and anti-aircraft guns. No contact with any of the forces in the East, but seeing as their forces were mostly mercenaries and local militias, I can imagine they've either all capitulated, or are all dead, which would leave Femosi rebels plenty of room to attack through, with nothing but the Grindes City Watch holding them at bay. By God, we're cut off on every direction!

"Alright. Alright. Okay. So, what's the good news?" I said to the NCOs.

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

Sgt. Faris Woods

Okay. Shouldn't be that hard. Glad they actually have picture instructions on the LAWs, that way language barriers don't really get in the way. One guy, the guy with the AKS, held the thing backwards at first, but thanks to the "leaders" Anam and Biela explaining it to him after a slap to the back of the head, the guy can hold and fire a LAW properly now. I told Biela to explain backblast and backblast checking to the guys, and he did quite a good job. I hope.

"Okay. You, take jeep." I said to the militia group in general, with Anam acting quickly and taking the jeep right behind us, with the others following suit. I turn to my (can't believe I get to say this) men, and motion my head for them to get in as well. "Show time." I said quietly to myself, trying not to be heard by the others. The last thing they need is an uncertain leader.

Pilgrim59 LoneSniper87 Trappy darth Velkyn

 

[Pilgrim59]

Day 1 - 14:52:20 FST (Femos Standard Time)
Designate: N/A
Pfc. Dimitri "Essie" Mayakovsky
22nd Division, 3rd Battalion, B Company
Staging Ground, Grindes, Femos

"Da, Ensign. I've got the gist of unpacking and wrapping it. A lesson from an experienced comrade wouldn't hurt, da?"

Dimitri replied to the ensign, as he unrolls some lining of leftover bandages from his torn field dressing. He set the instruments neatly on top of his backpack lying on his laps, as Ashley went over the basics with him. Dimitri has always been a listener, and attentively studied the instructions given by the Ensign. His eyes widened when she spoke, while his hands emulated her swift and gentle wrapping of the bandages. He paused briefly and smiled, giving the Ensign a break from the tutorial session. Dimitri quickly grew fond of her. She was reminiscent of a kindhearted priestess back home, who taught him how to read and write. Her gentle ways of explaining things and her devotion to the community gave Dimitri a certain hope in the trials of famine and crops failure that plagued his hometown.

Nothing can be written thus far, as he could hardly find it in himself to be truthful to his words, led alone his thoughts. One thing is for certain, not all the fighting and bloodshed can erase the stains of war. No, something else, much more simple and strong must ascend from the ashes of hopelessness and chaos of this mighty struggle. His heart danced like a charmed creature, as he withdrew his field dressing and stowed it away. Before long, he cast his thoughts aside and nodded at Ashley.

"Spasiba. Thank you, Ensign. I'll be sure to put your guide to good use. Leave all the gears to me, its what I do best."

What was that feeling? Dimitri thought to himself, as his heart continued its violent waltz, as if trying to tear itself from his chest. His face grew warmer, and his hands colder. He have had the same feeling before. A long-lost sentiment that have caught him unaware. Dimitri shrugged it off, and remained cautious by examining his rifle and bayonet. The others seemed to be ready enough. All that awaited them was the roaring of the jeeps' engines and the wandering militias.

LoneSniper87 Kabboom Trappy Velkyn

 

[LoneSniper87]

"Rad, chto smog pomoch. Glad I could help, Dima." I said with a grin. I took the liberty of learning a few other languages, except for, funny enough, Femosi. The irony may kill faster than the insurgents. A few more came along, and I believe that pretty muched wrapped up the squad, except for one. "Welcome to the team Rozá, I hope you don't fear death, because that is all we are gonna see and face for awhile. Trust me, he isn't that scary. We flirt often." I joked.

"Who are we waiting on again?" I asked after a pause, realizing I left my field dressings out. I never do that, I must have been distracted... But by what? Perhaps I just have a lot of stress because of the upcoming mission.

Kabboom Pilgrim59 (Why does love always feel like a battlefield?) Velkyn darth

 

[Trappy]

Lt. Elizabeth Forrest

I stayed with the CO after the others have left the dimly lit room.

"Bad day". A bit of an overused term, but beat me to it, I really can't find something more appropriate to describe our current somewhat bitter situation. And don't start it if you're one of those narrow-minded people who think only the infantry, with their knees deep in the mud and blood, experience hardship, then I hope you save yourself from such ignorance before being named a fool. Forgive me.

My eyes couldn't help but follow the volunteered braves as they make their way towards the transports. Me yesterday couldn't even begin to comprehend the failures that slammed onto our faces as commanding officers today, and the decisions we made that led to the initiation of this... damned suicidal operation.

Meanwhile, some NCOs report updated intel to Wiltshire, mostly about status of friendly units in the area, and it is not looking pretty. And that bugs me. There goes Wiltshire, letting out an outburst. Friendly casualties? No, no no no . . . But that fact that these pesky rebels could organise a coordinated attack on multiple fronts on such a scale is simply unrealistic, if you ask me. I went through all the surveys and intel on these rebel groups a few days before we were transferred to Femos, I should know this. Hell, they were barely united under a chain of command! And if the reports are true, then the presence of T-90 battle tanks in their formation just make the whole thing very questionable.

After the NCOs have concluded their reports and have left the room, leaving just us, once again.

"If you want to take some rest, I can take over." - I said after I ended up beside him by the table. - "I don't doubt your capability, but it's been a tough day."

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

Valentina Luprecal

But why the four wheels? Wouldn't that just make getting past the rebels' line like 10 times harder??

Most, if not all of us had that same inquiry in our head when Anam and Biela came back with the vehicles, and the question probably wrote itself on our faces too. But in the end, we got on the transports. I mean worst comes to worst, we'll just have to wing it out ourselves. Chance to impress the Ambrians too, neat. Oh speaking of which, we haven't really met, haven't even got a chance for a proper greet. Gah, how do they expect us to work together without such basic protocols? Tsk tsk . . . I did give the Ambrians a wave and the friendliest smile though.

But whatever I guess. Hey, the field might be the best way to get to know each others.

Before long, the roar of engines snaps me to what's ahead of us, a job that the survivability of the Ambrian forces in Grindes might depend on, and Anam the dummy just had to made it our responsibility.

darth Velkyn LoneSniper87 Kabboom Pilgrim59

 

[Kabboom]

July 18, 2017
1455hrs
D Company's 22nd day in Grindes

Cpt. Richter Wiltshire

I slumped down onto my chair, my legs somehow failing to support me adequately in this trying time. I did that in the presence of no one except for my XO. I wanted to sit down, like, an entire 15 minutes ago, but when my men are present, I must not show weakness. Not at the moment, at least. The men are in disarray, I know that. They're disoriented and, frankly, afraid. I am too. But there's a difference between me and the men. They're lions; fierce warriors, but they need to be herded to become invincible, and the last thing this city needs is a pack of lions led by a lamb. I have to be strong; not for me, but for my men. Only for my men. Only then I can be strong.

My second spoke up in a tender, caring voice, which spooked me a bit, since that was quite uncharacteristic of her. She was more of a quiet, disciplined girl to me. I comfortably eased my head onto my arms, which were almost sealed to the table, what with how tired I'm feeling. She sat close beside me, with both of us dropping our 'superior officer' attitude completely since there's no one else in here.

"No thanks, Forrest." I spoke up, lifting my head. "I'm just tired, not dead. I know you're trying to do your job, but I still got it so far." I straightened my back, as I sat up properly for more talking. "It- It's just... a rough day, y'know? This attack shit just came out of the blue, and so many of us are already dead. Hell, I almost lost you, when the attack hit your position. I was scared for a second there, honestly." I involuntarily let out a faint, barely audible semi-laugh-chuckle with that last sentence.

I looked over to her, spotting her grey eyes, looking at me in this... hard to describe way. "You think I did the right thing out there? With the volunteer squad?" She hesitated a bit, before giving me an answer. "Yes. It was a difficult call to make, but desperate times call for desperate measures. It's okay, Richter."

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

Sgt. Faris Woods

I do a final check of the group. My squad, including Medina and the two Privates, have squeezed themselves into the rear of the jeep, on the rear seats (to be honest, this is more like an UAZ-469, but we just call these types of vehicles "jeeps" in general). That leaves enough seats for the others, although the scout girl, the reservist and the medic will have to squeeze if we want to fit the big Landon guy.

Speaking of which, where are they? Landon and the scout should be ready now, and really, we're just waiting on them, since the reservist and the medic are already in, having taken the rear seats. That reservist guy, Dimitri, is a nice guy. I'm not just saying that because he brought that sweet Kromuskit with him, but because in times like these, a good comrade in arms is worth more than a thousand medals. Well maybe not a thousand medals, just like, 50 medals. Anyway, the two are exchanging information, with Ashley teaching Dimitri how to use bandages.

I honk my jeep (UAZ) horn, and yelling out to the scout and Landon, just to rush them a bit. "C'mon, we're moving out! Get in, guys!" I look in my rear view mirror, and it seems that the militiamen have gotten into 2 jeeps instead of 1. Seems reasonable. A platoon cannot fit in just one jeep.

Pilgrim59 LoneSniper87 Trappy darth Velkyn

 

[Velkyn]

Róża Helminski
Day 1(?) of Deployment: Approx. 1400 hours
Unwounded
Mounting
------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sudden horn comes as a stark reminder as to what task she had volunteered for. She stands for a moment, starting towards the UAZ in a moment of "Holy shit, what have I done" type-panic. It took willpower, but she shook her head and pulled her sling to the side, tightening her sub-machine gun against her chest. She took the first step forward, which was admittedly a struggle, but the rest came naturally. She closed the distance and began the process of mounting the Truck. She stuck her foot onto the tire and used the railing as leverage as she climbed, unhooking her pack and letting it rest upon her lap.

"Hello. Róża, in case you missed."

She began to finish getting ready, seeing they were moving out, she saw it appropriate to prime and load her firearms. She drew her pistol from her waist and wrapped her hand over the front of the slide, pulling it back into its locked position. She fished for one of the two spare rounds and dropped it into the chamber, holding the slide with her palm and letting it close gently. She checked that the round was loaded, and safety was on, before pushing the magazine into the grip and re-holstering. The safety would come off on arrival. She did the same with her MP9, slung firmly against her chest, she worked it from there, the round falling into the chamber easily and the bolt sending home. Once she heard the positive Click of the safety, she leaned back against the seat, against the door so the others had room.

"Where to?"

Kabboom Pilgrim59 LoneSniper87 Trappy darth

 

[Kabboom]

July 18, 2017
1500hrs
D Company's 22nd day in Grindes

Sgt. Faris Woods

"Hell, Róża. We're going to hell." I said quietly to her. Having good morale is one thing, but everyone on this trip knows it's almost impossible to return without losing someone. Times like these, I think sympathy is more effective than leading-by-example. But I am somewhat comforted by her presence in this mission. A scout will prove invaluable in our search for these jammers, though I doubt her MP9 would be a formidable threat against AKs and PKMs.

I look in my rear view mirror. Everyone has boarded my jeep, and I'm checking on the militiamen. They've taken the two jeeps behind mine, some having frustrated expressions on their faces. I guess blood and shattered glass doesn't mix well with sandals. Anam is sitting in the driver's seat of the one directly behind me, while Biela sits in the passenger seat, with his M60 armed and ready to go. As the former gives me a thumbs-up, the universal sign for "good", though in some places, it means "up your ass". We had to be cautious about that the first time we set foot on Femos.

"Well, here goes. Good luck out there." I said to everyone in the jeep, as I turned the ignition key. The engine barely sputtered back to life, almost as if coughing off the horrible bullet storm that it withstood a few moments ago. I turn the wheels, and my foot slowly weighed down on the pedal, and... off we go.

As our little convoy headed out to the gate, everyone in the base watched us. Some gave us salutes, some just shook their heads, and some just... stared at us. Guess we all mean something to them, one way or another. The guy manning the gates, a young shotgun-wielding recruit, gave us a final salute, as the gate barrier lifted, giving us entry to the dirt road, with our tire tracks semi-permanently imprinted into the soil.

Here we go, I guess.

Pilgrim59 LoneSniper87 Trappy darth Velkyn