Down Range (Open)

[Captain Matherson]

Ooc: Its just me and Peter out here for the moment, and this thread is open for anyone to join. To jynx, when and if you choose to join this thread, you will be allowed to have NPC characters from your squad if you so wish, but to try and keep realism and so you don’t completely hammer us , you shouldn't have too many, three or four at the most perhaps. Just because this is Allied territory and yours would be a small insurgency group, not a frontal assault.

This is just to make for a small, character-based fight, so… lets get started…

Conditions:
~1215 hours
~Clear
~Mild-no wind

Bic: Chris walked back towards the large barn, his arms now free of the sack of cans he had been carrying earlier. The huge farm house was apparently deserted. Whoever had once had anything to do with place was long gone now. Maybe they died. Maybe they ran. It didn’t matter to Chris. Not in the slightest.

”Can you see the cans down range, Corporal?” he called out to Peter as he came closer. It was just the two of them out here today. He had set up a row at thirty feet, another at fifty, and more at seventy, a hundred, a hundred and fifty and then two hundred. Peter was now a member of the 1st rangers Battalion, he had to learn to shoot like one. He had been given a Lee Enfield, courtesy of one of the dead soldiers who hadn’t survived the night back at the hospital.

The ground was reasonably bare out here. Well, around the barn anyway. Lack of attention had allowed the surrounding woodland to creep in slowly, and now the grass was just under knee height beside the large house. Elsewhere the grasslands were dominated by thick, shrubby trees and foliage. Chris knew the Allied base with the hospital was off to the east, about a click and a half away. He didn’t want any visitors during the training session.

”Start off with the thirty feet row. They should be easy for you to hit.” Thirty feet was nothing. Chris could have unholstered his Colt from his thigh and put a round through all of them in three heartbeats, but this wasn’t about him. He came up beside the field medic and looked down the makeshift range, the cans standing up on chopping stumps Chris had found inside.

”Just do what I showed you earlier, and fire when you’re ready…”

[jynx]

OOC 2 will do, that leaves room for one more ally player to join and it still being even for the most part.

Also changed your map a bit, if you don't like it, just tell me and I'll remove it to keep down confusion.

BiC
Justin Kempster Shut the jeep off at the dry river bed. This was the area they scouted earlier. The Oberst had ordered Justin to go on a special mission to disrupt the enemies formation during tomorrows assault. The armored division would storm the front, while Justin and his men sniped high ranked officers and set their ammunitions depot on fire. During his briefing, he was told of this place; a small farm house overlooking the enemies base, providing perfect cover, access, and view. The allies left it fairly unprotected due to a large river bed providing a natural barrier against any armor advancements, their largest worry with such a large base.

Justin stepped out of the jeep and wrapped the karbines strap around his shoulder. Newly issued a sniper rifle, just for this mission, Justin had grown attached to it after hours of zeroing it in and firing it on the range. Much quicker and more precise then his old karbine. Justin looked over his shoulder to his few men he had brought along with him. Leon Wagner and Max Hoffman were both brilliant, and proved that to Justin the last time they were in battle. Justin would need his best men on this mission.

Max grabbed the gasoline from the back of the vehicle while Leon covered the jeep with brush. The jeep couldn't cross this dry river bed, from here on out Justin and his men were on foot. Justin reviewed the coordinates, and pointed toward the south.

After Leon had camouflaged the jeep fairly well, Justin sat in the back and went through the assault and his precise orders. He could see the farm house now, looking dry and dead.

"Max, post in the river bed. Leon, mount the machine gun. We'll go in when it gets dark." Oberleutnant Kempster ordered as he sat in the drivers seat with the jeep off, working on sewing branches to his uniform.

[✚ Peter T. Brannigan]

OOC: Wow, love the map/s. I was roughly drawing one up yesterday and I must admit, you guys have outdone me. As for the editing, will C.Matherson edit the map every couple of posts? Or do we all post the edited map of where our character’s are after every post? Just curious…


IC:

Corporal Branigan already felt the daunting realization of what his request had landed him in, the Medical Officer was purely used to being kept a few yards back from the soldiers, only ever rustling in amongst the men when ever someone fell like a domino or the hollering cry of ‘Medic!’ breached the fogged thick air of battle, demanding his assistance. This was certainly different to say the least, as Peter’s once soft hands grappled onto the brazed and splintered wood of the Lee-Enfield rifle, not really comprehending the weight of the cumbersome weaponry up until now, let alone trying to fire it as of yet…

Captain Matherson seemed determined in making the young Medical Officer a fine piece of god’s material for war, but Peter would only find out if he held that talent real soon, ironically. “I-I can see them sir” he somewhat hesitantly slipped out, licking his dry lips from the nervousness, almost expecting the worse to occur by shooting an empty can. “Thirty foot… Okay” he mumbled to himself, rather than responding to the Captain who seemed quite happy in letting him take the lead in his own time. “What’s the worse that could happen”[/b] he muttered to himself once again, as the Medical Officer hoisted up the cumbersome rifle to perch against his shoulder and bicep, whilst his left hand hung far-out down the barrel to steady his aim, coiling his fingers around the splintered wood for a steady grip.

CRACK! broke the silence of the mid afternoon air, as a murder of crows screeched and hustled from their nests inside the barn, fluttering into the dormant humid sky. The bullet zipped through the air, breaking into the makeshift wooden stand holding the cans, surprisingly still knocking his target off, even if he was a couple of inches off the actual target, but for a rookie and his first proper shot, Peter seemed chuffed and delighted in himself for being precise enough? “Close enough” he mumbled to himself, before giving the Captain a slight glance, knowing he was most likely disappointed rather than chuffed like Peter was.

Leaning the butt-end of the rifle down against his inner-thigh and tailing the rifle upwards, Peter twisted and clunked the smouldering bullet case from out of the chamber, locking in a fresh round. “I’ll try another thirty yard, sir” Peter confidently underlined, as he arose to the challenge again by hoisting up the rifle against his shoulder, wriggling his arm a little for comfort, before shifting his feet to take the recoil of the bucking rifle. Knowing what to expect this time when pulling the trigger, the Medical Officer gritted his teeth and clunked his index finger against the trigger, sending another spiralling CRACK! into the dry relaxed air, only this time, the noise of the can splitting and bouncing from off it’s perch followed.

[Captain Matherson]

Chris frowned as Peter missed the first can. At the least he had been hoping that he would easily be able to hit the cans at thirty feet, and he had allowed himself to hope he’d even be able to hit fifty and seventy feet distances with mild consistency based upon how easily he had grasped the basics. The miss made him doubt that.

He sighed inwardly and was going to say something, but Peter replied first and prepared for another shot. Chris waited, and was relieved to see that it was a successful shot. ”Hmm. You need some work. Well, a lot of work to say the truth. But nothing we can’t fix. Keep going Corporal. I want you to hit every remaining can at the thirty feet line.” If he could do that the Captain’s would be restored. For his first shot, I suppose I have to give him some le-way here. Although if he screws up the first shot of every battle, then that’s a problem.

He pointed his Thompson at the ground and leaned ever so slightly on the unloaded sub-machine gun. Only his Colt by his thigh was loaded for the time being. Chris glanced around the horizon, but with the houses behind and woods everywhere else, all seemed well enough. ”In your own time Corporal, the enemy will always wait for you to shoot first.”

Ooc: No change in map…

[✚ Peter T. Brannigan]

OOC: I’ll make another post whilst I’m around and seeing that we’ve not encountered J.Kempster yet, so this shouldn’t mess up the consistency.

IC:

The Corporal had a real sturdy hand, thanks to his Medical training, so accuracy wasn’t much of a problem - more so, the fact of being behind such a powerful, cumbersome and deadly piece of equipment was. Peter wasn’t used to the feeling of being behind such a new line of job, in a sense, all of his patients that held a rifle, came rolling in through his medical station’s doors. The rifle was intimidating to say the least, but Peter grinned eagerly to himself as the buzz of grasping such a powerful hunk of wood and metal began to take it’s toll.

“C’mon Peter, it’s not like you haven’t played god before” he mumbled to himself quietly, signing out the presence of the Captain nearby him momentarily as he focused, knowing full damn well he had a long way to go before he became one of C.Matherson’s young and finest, in soldier terms. For now, anyway, Peter indulged in the fact no one else in the Ranger’s Corp could tie up an artery or string a tendon back-together, which aroused the well needed smile to his dented pride for missing the first can.

Leaning the butt-end against his inner thigh again, Peter hastily reloaded his rifle this time, making a quick twist to the bolt and swift clunk back and forth to the chamber, loading a fresh round with ease. Swinging the rifle up against his shoulder and stern bicep, Peter’s eyes narrowed to squint in sheer focus, aiming down the line towards the fifty feet mark, clunking his finger against the trigger to send another loud CRACK! into the air, sending the can a rough three feet into the air before spiralling to the ground. “Forgive me for jumping the mark, sir - that can was about to shoot me” Peter said with a dim smile from his wit towards the Captain, not really feeling the need to hit the thirty foot cans, feeling as if he’d overcome his general fear of the rifle already.

Licking his lips momentarily, the Corporal rolled his shoulders, still wearing most of his gear - sure, he could’ve taken it off, but due in battle, that wasn’t a necessity he’d have, so he had to get used to the feeling of shooting his weapon, whilst being weighed down somewhat. “Still have faith in me, Captain?” Peter asked curiously, as he leaned his rifle back against his thigh, taking a brief moment to talk to the Captain whilst he reloaded his weapon again, allowing the third smouldering warm shell to thump against the ground, already beginning to feel bad he didn’t obey the order of shooting the rest of the thirty-foot line of cans, but Peter wasn’t one for standing around too long, fast learner perhaps? Or just a short attention span.

[jynx]

Justin looked sternly through the front of the jeeps window covered with branches and other debris. The sewing needle was stuck into his pants with a thread that was wrapped around a dry brush. Justin snapped the thread and tied it. He opened the jeep door softly, stepped out of the jeep, and peered through the cover of the jeep. "Leon, we're joining Max."

Justin silently creped up to max. "Where have those gun shots come from" Justin said under his breathe

"They seem to be from those farm houses. There is only one shooter. I think it's just some farmers" Max whispered.

The farm houses were reported as abandoned. Meaning there was most likely a posting right around here just to keep an eye on things. This is exactly what Justin had expected, except he wanted them a bit more up river, not right where he needed to go.

"Max, look over that riverbed wall. Leon, watch up the riverbed. Both of you put on your baronets" Oberleutnant Kempster gave commands. Justin himself moved up with Leon to view over the dry riverbed as to where the gunshots came from.

[Captain Matherson]

Chris nodded slightly. ”Getting better. Hold the rifle here, not here, and loosen these fingers when you shoot. Your left hand is nothing more than an aiming device, you should be able to hold the rifle fine with only your master hand. Loosen it.” He noticed that instead of shooting the cans like he had said, the Corporal instead reloaded his rifle and waited. Obedience? He took a deep breath. This needs lots of work. But his hands are steady…

”Alright, I want you to shoot a can from each line, until you get down to the two hundred mark. It doesn’t matter how many shots you need, but I want a can gone from every line before the end.” In truth, the amount of shots he needed meant everything. Practice makes perfect, and the more the Corporal shot the more confident he’d get with the rifle, and the better he would be.

”Son, why did you want to join the frontline in the first place?” He asked as the medic readied for his shots. The curiosity was niggling in his mind of why a young field medic would want to trade his hospital for the high-possibility of death…

[✚ Peter T. Brannigan]

Peter’s fingers coiled around the cumbersome wood-grip to the rifle once again, nodding slowly to the Captain’s advice, allowing it all to sink in and soak up into the back of his mind. “Alright” he quietly murmured, taking a quick moistened lick to his lips, looking off down range once again, knowing the Rifle was highly intimidating - not just because of it’s strength, but the consequences he’d seen it bring. From gun-powder burns, recoil damage to the jaw and shoulder, not to mention the consequences of being on the opposite end of the weapon.

Hoisting the weapon back up against his shoulder abruptly, seeing the Captain didn’t answer his curious question of having faith in him, Peter wasted little time in disobeying anymore orders, let alone disappoint his commanding officer further.

Taking a squint to his eye and shifting his feet a little to take the recoil, Peter snapped his finger against the cold trigger, sending another crackling echo into the air around them, the vibration bouncing from off the trees in the short distance, disturbing all the wild-life. Surprisingly, one of the cans at the seventy foot mark clunked against the stones and grit onto the ground, leaving a mound of drifting dirt in it’s wake. “Whoa, beginner’s luck?” he said somewhat cheerily with himself, before looking to the Captain as he asked Peter a question, a question that Peter knew the answer too all too keenly.

As Peter began to reload, he didn’t lift the rifle up against his thigh this time, more-so taking the Captain’s advice in being able to hold the rifle appropriately with his master hand, as Peter leaned the rifle back against his shoulder and shifted his trigger hand to hold the butt-end more securely whilst he swung his left hand out to clunk the bolt on the side of the rifle with a twisting motion, before un-chambering the smouldering shell and loading a new one. As Peter began to take fresh aim on the hundred-foot mark, he answered the Captain’s question…

“Why should I wait…” he firstly said, cutting off his sentence as he aimed in sheer focus on his metal cased victim down range. “Why should I wait for those poor buggers to come staggering into my medic-station hours later, when I can be there in a blink of an eye” he finally lisped out towards the end, before taking another clunk against the trigger, hearing out the now becoming familiar crackle into the midst of the air.

The Bullet impaled into the wooden stand a couple of inches below the can, sending the whole array of metal targets shimmering and staggering in their places. “My luck never lasted” he quietly said to himself, as he turned to face the Captain quietly, giving a weak smile.

[Captain Matherson]

Chris sighed. ”There’s nothing wrong with your accuracy. Most grunts on their first weapon handling course couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn. What you need to realize is that shooting cans is different to shooting people. And you don’t sound like the type of person who wants to bring death. Thankfully, you won’t be for long. Because nobody stays in perfect condition for long in a fire-fight. You want to be there right away to save them? You will be.”

Chris sighed and looked at the ground in front of him for a second. Luck’s got nothing to do with it kid.” he took a breath and unholstered his Colt, fiddling with the safety catch and hammer. ”You asked me if I still have faith in you?” He shot one of the cans clean off the thirty foot stand, barely aiming. ”Truth is I never had faith in you, and probably won’t for a long time to come.”

When he said it like that, it sounded so heartless, so he felt he had to continue. ”My trust isn’t easy to gain. True trust. I trust all of my men to shoot at the enemy for me. But I can think of only two men who I trust enough to die for. And one of them is dead already.” Browning had been killed in an earlier confrontation, and now only White remained, his best soldier. ”That I don’t have faith in you means nothing. You will gain my trust, or one of us will die in the process. Because that’s war.”

[jynx]

Leutnant Kempster heard the distinct crack of a colt handgun. Justin knew that gun was only distributed to high ranked officers. There had to be more troops within the region. The headquarters reports must have been wrong. Either way, Justin had no time to return and alter the current strategy. He's been outnumbered before.

"Leon, What you seeing."
"Sir, there are no signs of any hostilities north of here, none, sir"

Justin looked back at Max, knowing this was now his day. Justin make a flat hand and struck it forward. Max recognized the signal immediately and begin crawling up to the farm houses. Leon was still within hearing range, so Justin simply told him "I want you to go back and mount the machine gun. When Max reaches that broken fence line, I want you to open fire on that farm house. Just tear it apart and put a shitload of holes in it."

Leutnant Kempster moved further up the riverbed. Soon as the firing started, Justin ran through the tree line and took base behind a tree, hopefully unnoticed.

[✚ Peter T. Brannigan]

OOC: Forgive me if seemed to have god-moded a little bit in my post. It’s nothing major, I’ll change it if need be.

IC:
Corporal Branigan remained quiet as he listened to the Captain talk, just beginning to realise just how much the commanding officer had in experience. Most Commissioned Officers Peter had come across, of late, were stuck up posh ‘kids’ with a dummy between their teeth, they knew ‘nought’ about battle, but Captain Matherson had that eager streak of experience behind his thickened skull, Peter knew there was more to the male than he would’ve first guessed. “I will be” he said in a stern tone in replying to the Captain, about being there for the men when it really mattered.

As the Captain upholstered his colt.45 and let rip to a nearby can on the range, Peter grinned to himself quietly, realising just how inexperienced and cocky he must’ve seemed to the Captain - becoming somewhat boastful for just hitting a can or two, here and there. The Captain must’ve seen many soldiers, people, just like Peter - come and go. “Well, Sir…” Peter said with a smug grin on his face, shrugging a little to look at the Officer before him, to continue “As a doctor, I never did believe in faith anyway” he soon entailed, understanding the Captain’s view on just how important trust was - compared to that of having Faith in someone.

Peter was just about to ask something when a sudden barrage of gunfire began to blow out one side of the crippled barn, sending shards of wood and paintwork into the air. Instinctively, the Corporal grabbed the Captain by the arm and marched towards the barn-wall briskly, knowing it was better to be against something for protection, even it was only your back, than to be huddled up on the ground in the open. As a Medic and acting on instinct, Peter abruptly forgot Chris Matherson’s rank and done what he thought was necessary.

As the Corporal thumped his back against the wood and clunked his free-hand against his helmet, his body slowly knelt and ducked against the wall somewhat, just encase any stray overhead bullets decided to rip through his torso. “Sir!? What do we do now sir!?” Peter shouted somewhat above the racketing fire, gripping at his rifle in one hand and shifting his medical bag with the other, looking around quickly, making sure no-one suddenly popped out of no where on them from the trees or nearby blind-spots.

[Captain Matherson]

Chris listened to Peter, but didn’t make to reply, just listened. The medic opened his mouth and suddenly heavy machine gun fire ripped through air, cutting out whatever words he may have said. The Captains body immediately tensed and he looked in the direction of the fire, only to be grabbed and hauled to the wall of the barn by Peter.

”How in god’s name can there be enemies this far into Allied territory!?” Chris yelled over the distant din. He pushed his Colt back into its sheath and grabbed his unloaded Thompson with renewed interest, feeling for a magazine.

He turned back and saw, somewhere through the trees, a blur of movement. It had only been there for a second, but for that second he could have been sure it was a person. He grabbed the field medic and pointed out past the firing targets to the trees. ”There’s someone out there advancing on us!” he called. His Thompson wouldn’t make the range, as he loaded it. The Enfield might, but he didn’t think Peter had the skill to hit a soldier at what looked to be about two hundred and something feet behind cover.

He turned around and saw that the machine gun wasn’t doing any damage on this side of the wall. The rounds had to be getting stuck in hay bales inside. ”Let them waste their shots on the house. We need to get out of here! We can’t take on a platoon by ourselves!” He looked around. ”The base is south-east of here! Make for that house there!”

The Captain checked the area quickly before making the run. For the moment, the machine gun was only thing firing. Thank God. He pushed the Corporal ahead of his as he ran for the house. ”Take cover in here!” Matherson busted down the door and rushed inside, slamming it shut behind him and the Corporal, his heart pounding in his throat. ”Find cover!”

[✚ Peter T. Brannigan]

OOC: I’ll make a quick post, just to coincide with C.Matherson’s actions/post.

The commotion of the blaring machinegun fire on the barn seemed somewhat deafening for a brief moment, but like all humans, they soon adapted to their environment as Peter lip-read and watched the Captain carefully for insinuating instructions he may give with his hands or body posture.

Looking out to the tree-line when the Captain grasped him and pointed, had Peter alerted somewhat quickly as he grasped his Lee-Enfield rifle tightly and squinted to try and see something - but Peter couldn’t see anything from first glance, then again, it would make sense for enemy units, a platoon, to circle them and advance on their East-Flank through the foliage and woodland. Not just for cover purposes, but a pincer movement to drive them back - which did indeed seem to have worked as the Captain recoiled new orders to take refuge nearby.

Barely, if at all uttering a word, the Corporal done as he was told, as a full-hardy grunt left his lips from the push off the ground and suddenly began to run towards the nearby cover, trying to keep a low posture as he done so, feeling the presence of the Captain close behind, which reassured him greatly.

Staggering into the small shack-like house, the Corporal dropped his rifle down onto the floor briefly as he threw off his medical bag weighing him down, planting it against the wall nearby him. Grasping his rifle eagerly and searching his pockets for more bullet rounds to reload into his half empty cartridge, the Corporal slumped down against a nearby wall and looked onwards towards the Captain, taking a hard gulp to moisten his drying throat. “Think they saw us?” Peter quietly asked, breathing deeply, knowing the two of them wouldn’t be able to handle a whole platoon of Krauts.

[jynx]

Justin Kempster scoped in on the region where he heard the shots. The crosshairs pinned on what was movement within a barn, Justin fired thre shots around the movements. Not expecting to hit anything, but knowing they'll feel them.

Leon had stopped firing the machine gun, and now awaited Justin for further orders. Max continued to advance to the barn, now entering it through a window. Justin was now running away. Looking for cover through all of the brush and chaos that nature provided. He found a small clearing to a tree and charged forward and scoped down the field again.

Hopefully Justins movement looked as though if it was a retreat. The distance between them was 200-300 yards. There was a long way to go, but the forest gave Justin great coverage for advancements.

[Captain Matherson]

Chris kept his head down, taking a second to make sure both of them had made it into the cover without taking any hits. ”You alright back there, Corporal?” He was just about to raise his head when three shots whizzed towards them. Two of them just lodged harmlessly in the walls of the house, but the final shot tore into a hay bale behind the Captain. He ducked his head down once more.

”That’s strange,” Chris thought aloud. ”If there were a whole platoon out there they would be suppressing us right now, walk up and throw a grenade in the window. But three shots?” He looked back at Peter. ”Somehow I don’t think we’re up against a whole platoon here.”

He risked a peek over the edge of a window… and there were no bullets in response to tear off his scalp. He couldn’t see anything out in the direction they had been looking. ”Corporal.” He motioned for him to come over. ”Sit here and aim out in that direction there. If you see anything move, shoot it.” He doubted whether the Corporal could actually hit a target at 300 feet, but anything was possible right?

Matherson himself quickly scanned the perimeter of the house and saw that there was only one door but several windows around. He knelt in a corner a little away from Peter and aimed his Thompson at the door and windows around it. Run, and we’ll be shot for sure. ”All we can do is wait… and hope.”