Post by Sutton on May 13, 2009 22:04:08 GMT -5
It's back. No, really.
August 18th, 2013
Germany
8 kilometers southeast of the remnants of Berlin
11:19 local time
It was a dark, and stormy day. Well, perhaps not quite worthy of "dark and stormy", but the sky was overcast and it'd been raining for several hours.
Jason is in an open field - behind him stretch a trail of footprints leading east, towards the site of the ambush. To understand his situation here, it's important to consider the events of the recent past:
A few days ago - An American platoon had rolled into the camp; and summarily conscripted (with the plainly understood threat of force against any who objected) all the combat-skilled inhabitants to defend the area against a Russian incursion into US/EU held territory. He'd been against it then - but they had the armored vehicles.
So, it came down to him, his friend Gunther, the swedish mercenary Chris Anderson, and a platoon of Americans versus an unknown number of russians, assumed company scale.
They'd set up an ambush along the road the Russian forces were taking through the area - Gunther had rigged a roadside bomb; and they set up support weaponry along the hills overlooking the road. It'd been a massacre - the bomb destroyed the leading vehicle, their only anti-tank rocket the rearmost; and then they raked the Russian's canvas-top trucks with machine gun and rifle fire. The Russians didn't even have time to shoot back before almost all of them were dead. It seemed like a complete victory.
Then the mortar fire came in. Jason; through skill, a trained eye, or perhaps just pure luck, had seen it coming and managed to dive for cover. The rest hadn't been so lucky - Gunther was killed (perhaps "obliterated" would be more accurate...) by a near-direct hit from a shell; Anderson was dazed by the blast but saved by his body armor; and the lieutenant was wounded pretty badly as well. The American soldiers in the IFV's drove off, and the now stranded members of the militia who'd survived the first volley either escaped or died in the subsequent shelling - mostly died, in all likelihood.
Jason and Lt. Alexander had escaped from the blast zone together - and they'd met up with (read: blundered into) Anderson later mostly by chance.
So, now, a wounded lieutenant, a survivalist and a mercenary are stuck in the middle of nowhere, with two packs of supplies, and one (bloodstained) map between the three of them. And to top it all off, they're soaking wet. Yes, today seemed like it couldn't possibly get any better.
August 18th, 2013
Germany
8 kilometers southeast of the remnants of Berlin
11:19 local time
It was a dark, and stormy day. Well, perhaps not quite worthy of "dark and stormy", but the sky was overcast and it'd been raining for several hours.
Jason is in an open field - behind him stretch a trail of footprints leading east, towards the site of the ambush. To understand his situation here, it's important to consider the events of the recent past:
A few days ago - An American platoon had rolled into the camp; and summarily conscripted (with the plainly understood threat of force against any who objected) all the combat-skilled inhabitants to defend the area against a Russian incursion into US/EU held territory. He'd been against it then - but they had the armored vehicles.
So, it came down to him, his friend Gunther, the swedish mercenary Chris Anderson, and a platoon of Americans versus an unknown number of russians, assumed company scale.
They'd set up an ambush along the road the Russian forces were taking through the area - Gunther had rigged a roadside bomb; and they set up support weaponry along the hills overlooking the road. It'd been a massacre - the bomb destroyed the leading vehicle, their only anti-tank rocket the rearmost; and then they raked the Russian's canvas-top trucks with machine gun and rifle fire. The Russians didn't even have time to shoot back before almost all of them were dead. It seemed like a complete victory.
Then the mortar fire came in. Jason; through skill, a trained eye, or perhaps just pure luck, had seen it coming and managed to dive for cover. The rest hadn't been so lucky - Gunther was killed (perhaps "obliterated" would be more accurate...) by a near-direct hit from a shell; Anderson was dazed by the blast but saved by his body armor; and the lieutenant was wounded pretty badly as well. The American soldiers in the IFV's drove off, and the now stranded members of the militia who'd survived the first volley either escaped or died in the subsequent shelling - mostly died, in all likelihood.
Jason and Lt. Alexander had escaped from the blast zone together - and they'd met up with (read: blundered into) Anderson later mostly by chance.
So, now, a wounded lieutenant, a survivalist and a mercenary are stuck in the middle of nowhere, with two packs of supplies, and one (bloodstained) map between the three of them. And to top it all off, they're soaking wet. Yes, today seemed like it couldn't possibly get any better.