Once more unto the Breach...[David/Open]

[Nicholas Ealing]

Country: France
Area/Setting: Ugly battlefield, drenched in blood following a massacre of the German army.
Current Time: 2134
Weather Conditions: No distinctive weather; cold and miserable however.

OOC: A maximum of three people can join, not including me. Thank-you.

The blood-drenched field seemed to go on for miles before the small company, the dark shadow of the night bearing down from all sides. Bodies - both German and American - littered the entire area, staring up at the survivors with silent screams. Even worse than these ghostly stares were the screams and howls of the wounded and dying as they were left unattended throughout the battlefield. Most of the men fitting this description would never even be seen by the combat medics who would be drafted in within the hour; they would be long dead by the time they arrived.

A vicious battle had raged along the Franco-Belgian border as the wary forces of the Waffen-SS had marched against the determined American-British defenders and had been massacred within minutes by the vast Allied army. They had to admire the Germans' pluck, Nicholas admitted. Even if they were bastards.

Although the Allies had secured the victory that day, there were no words of celebration around the camp. They had suffered heavy losses - almost a quarter of the brave men serving beneath the American flag had been mowed down unmercilessly by German machine gun fire - and the possibility of a second assault from the unwavering German army was still fresh in the troops' minds. Whatever the case, it was certain that there would be more death that night. Allied or Axis, no one could be sure.

Nicholas was thrown out of his thoughts by the sound of a gruff voice clearing his throat behind him. The Lieteunant turned around in surprise to the decorated Colonel Michael Kingsley stood but feet away from him. Nicholas brought his hand to a frantic salute before Kingsley gestured for him to be at ease.

Kingsley was legendary throughout the 3rd Infantry Division. A man of great strength and intelligence, he had been commisioned from his home in Falkirk into the U.S Army as a Junior Officer in 1916 and after but a year of fighting had already earned great respect from his commanders and his men alike, as well as securing a series of promotions up to Major by the 1920's as well as the Military Medal whilst fighting in Belgium during the Great War. Although now nearing his forty-seventh birthday, there was little sign of Kingsley's great power waning and he had doubtless fought alongside the common men in the battle but an hour earlier. He was one of the few senior CO's who Nicholas had ever seen actually fighting on the battlefield and he respected the Colonel greatly. Everyone did.

"You fought well down there, Lieteunant," said Kingsley with a faint smile. His accent was nostalgically Scottish but two decades living in the States had given him a heavy Californian accent and the two mixed vocal patterns sounded almost peculiar. "Very pleased by your progress in the past few weeks; in fact, I've got a little mission for you," Nicholas kept silent, waiting intently for the great man to continue. "We may have sent the bastards packing, but the German front line still stands strong a couple of hundred yards down,"

Nicholas nodded distractedly as the huge machines being wheeled in from the Royal Artillery were pushed before the huddled force, ready to unleash hell if the enemy dared to attack again. "Our boys are gonna pound the living daylights out of them with the mortars," continued Kingsley, noticing at wher Nicholas was looking. "But we don't want to kill any of the poor bastards still out there, wounded, or seperated from the main group," Kingsley turned to look directly at the Lieteunant. "So that's where you come in, Lieteunant. We need you to push forward and do a quick search for any of our boys in direct danger of being hit. Richmond still hasn't returned; he's a good Captain, it'd be a shame if he got ripped to bits by his own boys..."

Kingsley gestured towards three figures who stood sheepishly at his side. Nicholas vaguely recognised the faces but couldn't remember any names. All he knew was that two of the figures before him were combat medics and one was a Lance Corporal; with but one faded stripe on his shoulder. "These are William McFearson and John Gregory," said Kingsley, introducing Nicholas to the two combat medics. "Senior medical technicians who have saved my life more often than I've had hot dinners. And this," he continued, gesturing at the Lance Corporal, a slight man with a mop of dirty sand-coloured hair. "Is my personal batman, Ryan Davis. He'll be doubling as your radio operator for tonight,"

To clarify this, the man who Nicholas now knew to be called Davis, raised a clump of radio equipment that looked worryingly complicated to Nicholas. "You'll have to make sure that these guys get through the job safely; if William and John here don't get to the wounded pretty soon then there's no hope for any of them," continued Kingsley. "If you don't radio back the all-clear - or not as the case may be - in twenty minutes, then we're doing it anyway. If this happens 'cos there's some kind of malfunction with the equipment then there's nothing we can do; just get into the best cover you can and try to make your way back to the front line. Understood?"

Nicholas nodded and the Colonel beamed in reply. "Take a coupla good guys with you, though. Don't forget, it's still no man's land; we don't know what could be lurking in the shadows,"

Laughing at the melodrama in his voice, Kingsley nodded once at Nicholas who snapped back into a salute, before striding back down the camp, no doubt to do the best he could to raise edging morale of the embittered men. Nicholas gestured for his three new companions to follow him and began to search for a couple of good soldiers who wouldn't particularly mind the possibility of being blown to pieces by their own shells. Nicholas grinned. David Bevan was the man for the job. He was a nutcase, of course, but a good man to have on your team. "Oh, David," he murmured to himself in a sign-song voice. "Where are you...?"

[S.SGT David Bevan]

David sat grinning atop a German corpse carefully cutting away at the SS insignia on the collar of his uniform. David always liked to retrieve some proof the of enemys he had killed and when he had killed them with his knife it was a must. He ran his knife slowly along the stitching trying to keep the insignia in best condition. Killing an SS was always something to brag about.

Members of David's squad rested on a ruined log which had once been a tree before a phosphorus shell had riped straight through it setting it on fire. Some scattered embers were still alight on the tree kept alive be the wind.

"What's David doing" whispered Private Atwood his eyes filled with fear. He was a strong believer in Christianity and to him David seemed to be carrying out some Pagan ritual. Atwood was one of the newest editions to David's squad though he was different to the rest of David's mates. He was one of the new inexperienced American Privates. David's original squad had far more experience.

"Don't worry David does that a lot. You'll get used to it"replied Sergeant Evans in a strong Welsh accent.

David sheathed his knife and dropped the newly cut fabric into his webbing pouch. He had collected plenty of German souvenirs that day including a bayonet and even a Wealther P38 which rested in it's holster beside his Browning HP. He jogged over to where a group of his men were sat and stood in front of them.

His eyes moved towards the sniper his Ghille suit made him almost impossible to see due to the bush behind him. All that was clearly visible where his legs dangling over the end of the log. He may have been a new recruit but he was still a great shot with a rifle and had been one of David's friends while he was still in training. He was a typical Canadian hunter who hunted for a living and shooting moving targets came as a natural skill to him.

David glanced over his shoulder and spotted Lieutenant Earling engaged in Conversation with an American Major. The Major's battledress was lined with two rows of different medals and the scars on his face showed the terrifying memories that must have been locked up inside his mind.

David overheard the talking and it seemed Nicholas was being ordered to go on a rescue operation to find survivors. David decided he was going to there was no way he was being left at camp with a load of depressed Americans moaning about the men they had lost. David couldn't believe it they were unhappy when they had just butchered hundreds of German soldiers.

David gestured to his three squad mates who rose to their feet obediently and began walking casually over to David. He knew Calard the sniper would be useful. David strode forward stepping carefully one foot at a time trying not to disturb any of the dead. he wondered how many would receive a proper burial as in a few days this area could have changed hands.

David reached the Lieutenant "could we be of assistance" he said pointing towards his men. Evans and Calard lifted their weapons slightly showing the Lieutenant their much needed firepower.

"Do you want me to bring the Bren carrier or Wolf or are we going for more of a softly softly approach?"

He shoved a new magazine into his Lee-Enfield T and adjusted a few pieces of his blood stained kit. He handed an old battered ammunition box to Private Atwood.

"Atwood you carry the ammunition. Stay back and keep in cover if we are taken out you get back to here understand." The Private nodded in agreement.

David looked out across the barren wasteland which he imagined had once been a field though all trace of that theory had been destroyed with the initial German attack. Artillery guns had pounded away at the ground leaving deep shell holes some big enough to conceal a jeep. All the forests had been burned away by heavy phosphorous shelling leaving black stumps and little cover.

[cymraeg123]

The battlefield was stained with blood. There was a slight hint of death in the air and the remaining Allied soldiers that were not in pain or being helped by MacFearson and the other medics were counting kills and collecting souvenirs. Rhodri himself had killed four or five of the enemy today already and had dragged them into a pile back to back. They had been slain by multiple bullets from his Grease Gun tearing into their soft bellys or the unprotected skin on their neck. One of the SS soldiers had a hole that went into his windpipe and had caused him to suffocate. Rhodri was pleases with this shot. He also saw that multiple bullets had hit him in the face and one had taken a chunk of nearly half his right ear off and dropped it a few yards away.

Staff Seargent Bevan was particularly proud with what he had. He was already busying himself unpicking the SS insignia on one of the dead soldiers uniform. Rhodri had seen him do this many times. He could also see a Walther P38 next to Bevan's own Browning HP. Rhodri looked at the pile of men he had amassed that he had killed after his glance had strayed and began searching the men for weapons. There was nothing interesting apart from one of the men had a grenade in his pocket. Rhodri unscrewed the bottom to check that the button hadn't been pressed and that if he wasn't careful would explode in his hand. He was surprised to find that it had and so he threw the grenade away annoyed that the weapon was dangerous. He could see many flaws in the design. He noticed that it needed to be prepared with two hands. One unscrewing various parts and the other pressing buttons. He had seen an SS-Scharfuhrer preparing one but then being shot by a Private who had been readying his gun.

Rhodri found three Mauser Karbiners, a Luger pistol and another grenade on top of the one, this one had not been half prepared however. The other man was a mystery. He had no weapon near him but had an officers insignia on his uniform. Rhodri was surprised at this and guessed that he may have dropped his gun as Rhodri shot him. Rhodri guessed this was what had happened as theere were bullet holes down his arms and on his hand.

Rhodri could tell they were about to move out as he saw Bevan and Lieutenant Ealing giving commands to their men.

'MacFearson, Davies, Jones, Johnson, Higham, Davidson and Greenwood. Prepare to move out. Prepare yourselves for the worst and watch your back.'

[Nicholas Ealing]

Nicholas turned around warily to see Bevan staring back at him. He was alive, then, that was one thing, but his blood-splattered uniform implied that he had only just escaped that fate. The Staff Sergeant began to talk vigorously, seeming altogether too enthusiastic over the mission ahead for Nicholas' comfort. Bravery was one thing but recklessness was quite another. Bevan was the kind of man who would happily volunteer for a suicide mission with the kind of cheerfulness one would normally expect to be found from someone enjoying an ice cream in a park on a hot summer's day. Nicholas was all too aware that ice creams could melt; David would have to be careful or sooner or later it would be his dead body being ildly identified by the common soldiers of the 3ID.

The Lieteunant was about to answer when he heard a shout come from the near distance. "MacFearson, Davies, Jones, Johnson, Higham, Davidson and Greenwood. Prepare to move out. Prepare yourselves for the worst and watch your back," Someone was giving orders to the men. A corporal of all people. What the hell was he doing? Nicholas pushed forwards to where the corporal stood, identifying him immediately as a Junior NCO of the thirty or so Desert Rats who had stood on the sidelines as the 3ID had fought and died on the battlefield.

"Listen to me, corporal," he said angrily. "I give the orders around here, is that clear? You should shut your mouth; you and your men aren't even part of this expedition so don't you dare try to volunteer yourself or your men or it'll be the worse for you," Glaring at the young corporal - whose nametag stated him as a certain Williams - Nicholas nodded towards David. "Leave all heavy weapons behind; just bring pistols and a rifle slung across your back just in case. And just for the record, I don't need a bloody army, just a couple of men to help guard these poor sods. David, you're coming with me and your little private mate here can tag along too. Sargie and Sniper can stay here; I'm not going to risk two good NCO's and a trained assassin and if we go down, I want some good men back here to defend the base in case Fritz tries his luck again tonight,"

Nicholas checked his crumpled map - straining his eyes in the darkness - and turned back again to Bevan and the young private who would be making up the guardians of the trio who would be tagging along. "We advance about a 3/8's of a click Southwards," he said. "That's where most of the battle took place. Spend approximately fifteen minutes looking for survivors, radio back the all clear and then get the hell out of there, understood? If we do get attacked by any keyed up Gerry then try and avoid confrontation. If we have to fight, we fight, baring in mind that the defense of our young friends here is the main priority," He nodded back to Davis, Gregory and McFearson. "Stay behind us and stay alive," he said quietely, clapping the pale Davis on the back. He turned back to Bevan and the private soldier and barked out the order. "OK, men. Advance!"

Just as he was about to do so, he turned back to Evans, the veteran NCO he had left behind and brought his attention to the corporal. "Look after this damn fool, Sergeant. He may be an idiot, but I'm not having Brentwood on my back for having one of his men killed. That can be your mission, as it where. Babysitting duty,"

Feeling somewhat surprised at the ferocity in which he had basically bullied the corporal, Nicholas gave the signal for the men to push foward...into no man's land....

[S.SGT David Bevan]

David grinned as he was given confirmation that he had been accepted for the mission though he was not to pleased about having to leave Evans and Callard behind. He knew that that a sniper would be a valuable asset to the team and David had forgotten how many times Sergeant Evans his right hand man had saved his life in the most desperate of situations.


"Ok Earling we will be back in a few minuits I just have to tell Evans and callard what's going on" shouted David loudly over his shoulder while hastily making his way towards his men.

"Atwood your with me Sergeant Evans you are to stay here with Corporal Williams. Callard,Evans your not authorized to join us. But i'm eager to see tohse sniping skils of yous in action Callard. Evans be ready for any assaults or recue attmepts should we go MIA.

"Yes Sergeant" replied the three before quickly saluting.

David tightened the sling on his Lee-Enfield 4T and tied a small piece of rope to his pistol so he would not lose it in the combat to come. Atwood approached and the two walked past Earling. David decided he would be lead scout and Atwood would be rear guard. David advanced to the front of the squad while Atwood retreated to the back. David's keen eyes searched the area for any Germans hidden among the dense foliage or maybe even even a wounded ally desperately trying to avoid being finished off.

Callard sneaked past the neumeouse sntries at the camp with ease and took cover in a bush ready to follow the advance party. His ghille suit merged in with the foiliage making him almost invisable.

[cymraeg123]

'Listen to me, corporal.I give the orders around here, is that clear? You should shut your mouth; you and your men aren't even part of this expedition so don't you dare try to volunteer yourself or your men or it'll be the worse for you,' said Lieutenant Ealing angrily. He gave Rhodri a stern look and turned away, nodded at David and continued, 'Leave all heavy weapons behind; just bring pistols and a rifle slung across your back just in case. And just for the record, I don't need a bloody army, just a couple of men to help guard these poor sods. David, you're coming with me and your little private mate here can tag along too. Sargie and Sniper can stay here; I'm not going to risk two good NCO's and a trained assassin and if we go down, I want some good men back here to defend the base in case Fritz tries his luck again tonight.'

The talk Ealing had given him reinvigorated him into tagging along even though he had been told not to. He knew it would be a bad move if anything caused him to be caught unless he killed a whole heap of SS soldiers or saved someone's life.

'We advance about a 3/8's of a click Southwards.That's where most of the battle took place. Spend approximately fifteen minutes looking for survivors, radio back the all clear and then get the hell out of there, understood? If we do get attacked by any keyed up Gerry then try and avoid confrontation. If we have to fight, we fight, baring in mind that the defense of our young friends here is the main priority. Stay behind us and stay alive.OK, men. Advance!'

'Look after this damn fool, Sergeant. He may be an idiot, but I'm not having Brentwood on my back for having one of his men killed. That can be your mission, as it where. Babysitting duty.'

Rhodri was annoyed at this. He was in his late twenty's, he would be thirty in a month, and he had been assigned a babysitter. He was determined to find a way to follow the group. He sat on a fallen tree that lay nearby and placed his head in his hands. The Segeant came and sat next to him as the rest of them marched away. The sniper sat nearby cleaning his weapon(No pun intended) with his bag slouching beside him. Rhodri kicked the dirt and swore loudly. The other two looked at him and smirked. they then returned to what they had been doing prevously. Rhodri was concocting a plan in his head to get him away from these two and with the rest of the soldiers.

The sniper--Callard--kept on looking over his shoulder and once the mslodiers were out of view he stood up and ran along keeping low to the ground and stopping every few yards.

'That's right keep running leave me here with this tosser! See you soon unless you die first. Remember I could save your life!' Rhodri shouted after him.

Callard raised a middle finger at him and shouted, 'Fuck you!'

[Nicholas Ealing]

Nicholas trudged gruellingly through the undeterminable slush of mud and blood that lay periously throughout the battlefield. As the men advanced silently, it instantly struck Nicholas that if they were ever to find themselves in a combat situation then there would be little they could do to protect themselves. So dark was the surrounding area that seemed to spread out for miles around that Nicholas could hardly tell which swearing figure was who within the party.

The Lieteunant instinctively pulled his rifle from his sling as he heard a twig snap on the ground before him. Suddenly alert, he was put at ease by the silently apologetic figure of the radio operator Davis who had been rendered irritatingly clumsy by the heavy radio equipment that he was being forced to carry. Nicholas noted that it seemed to be his Chigaco voice that issued out the most curses. Slackening his grip on his rifle, Nicholas was still far from comfortable. He had never felt so vulnerable in his life; the paranoid sensation that he was being watched was flowing in his bloodstreams and every hoot of an owl, every footstep of a fox, every grunt from his own men turned his blood ice cold. To a German sniper, he reflected, they would be like sitting ducks. "Lieteunant!" came the hissed, urgent tones of the medic Gregory. "There's someone here,"

Nicholas instantly pushed past Davis and McFearson to where Gregory was kneeling over a seemingly limp form, clearly bloodied, even in the midnight blackness. "Is he breathing?" whispered Nicholas, unable to determine whether the body was indeed stirring or whether it was just a trick of the light, or, more accurately, it's absence. "He won't be for much longer," replied Gregory grimly.

"Hans..." croaked the figure hoarsely, blood trickling out of his mouth, an ugly socket where his eye must once have been stood sickeningly on the right side of his bloody face. "Wo ist Hans? Wo ist mein Bruder? Hans..."

"He's a bloody German," said Davis expressionlessly, standing darkly over the three figures. He raised a shining pistol into the air, its metal glinting in the slight moonlight, but enough for Nicholas to understand what the batman was about to do. Before he could yell "No!", the American's finger closed down on the trigger.

The man twitched once as the name of his brother died on his lips. He let out a strangled sort of gasp and then fell still. Nicholas did not need to check the German's pulse to know that he was dead but it did not matter to him. All he knew was that he had never hated anyone as much as he hated Ryan Davis at that moment.

"You bastard!" he snarled, rising to his feet and staring Davis in the face as he lowered his weapon, looking sickeningly satisfied. "You didn't have to fucking kill him, did you? We could have helped him,"

"What do you mean, help him?" scowled the batman. "In case you haven't noticed, sir, it's the Germans we're damn well fighting or have you forgotten that, drinking yourself stupid in the officer's mess? The only good German is a dead German,"

Nicholas stared back at him but did not answer. Instead, he signalled for the party to push forward. "If there are any of the enemy in the immediate area, they will have heard the gunshot and will be coming to investigate. So, let's get a move on. We don't want to meet anymore Germans," He glanced down at the dead figure, staring pathetic and sightless up at him, a mixture of pity and disgust on the Lietuenant's face. "And, believe you me, I reckon they'll be a lot more deadly than this one. Come on!"

And with that, the company trudged on. Nicholas took one last look at the dead figure, lying limp on the floor, and for the first time in his life, felt sorry for a German soldier.

[cymraeg123]

OOC:Seeing as David isn't posting I think we may as well continue this.

IC: The camp was now only occupied by the sergeant and Rhodri. They were both bored out of their skulls by the looks of things and neither knew each other at all. Rhodri had decided that he would try and overpower the guard. Seeing as the sniper had left this would be much easier.

The sniper was still visible as a silhouette on the horizon in the little sunlight, slowly fading into the woods on the left hand side as Rhodri looked at it.

Rhodri was waiting for a time when the Sergeant was falling asleep or wwas not looking in his direction. This opportunity came sooner than expected. The Sergeant was beginning to doze and was falling sideways his body going limp.

Rhodri stood up picked up his BAR and crept up behind the Sergeant. Then he brought the butt of the gun down onto the Sergeants head knocking him out. The Sergeant let out a small cry and then dropped off the tree stump he had been sitting on. His helmet then dropped off to the side. Rhodri ripped his cuff and tied it around the man's mouth using it as a gag. He then lifted the man into a fireman's lift and began to carry him towards the battlefield.

He had halfconsiderede leaving the man here but if the Germans arrived and saw him on the floor they would shoot him. Rhodri knew that he would not be able to face causing this man's death and had decided to take him with him. When the man woke up however Rhodri would make him walk. He would also take the gag out if they reached any combat so that he could breath.

Rhodri trudged along the wet, muddy floor. He passed a fresh German corpse and assumed that the battalion had done this recently. He put the Sergeant down and looked through the German's pockets and belts to see what he could find. He picked off the S.S. Insignia and took the Mauser. He then picked the unconsious man up and continued on his walk.

[S.SGT David Bevan]

OOC: Rhodri this time and the last time I was ok with you god modding my men but please don't do it again. Rhys's men are made up but i actually bought mine. We will aslo revert to the old posting order now.

Evans struggled to keep himself from groaning. The pain in his head was unbearable. He didn't dare open his eyes as light only made the intense headache worse. He thought he had been captured by a Gerry and he was getting ready to throttle the bastard. But he would probably be too weak in his semi conciouse state.

Callard crouched concealed in the trees behind David and the rest of the squad. They had come across a German corpse. He was carefull not to be detected and therefore had to follow from far behind. He would have to be carefull not to lose them.

David trudged along beside Nicholas at the head of the party. In the fading light of the evening the towering trees cast over sized shadows that stretched for meters. he gripped his rifle tightly he felt as if they were being watched. His keen eyes darted from tree to tree in search of any signs of life.

Then the party came across a dying AXIS soldier. He muttered a few words in German before his life was extinguished by the American soldiers Colt .45. This was why David didn't trust Americans. That German could have given them some vital intelligence if he managed to survive his wounds.

David knew that soon German reinforcements would be on their way. The shot could be hared from a long distance away. The company began to march onward and probably into an ambush.

[Nicholas Ealing]

Nicholas trudged on disparately, murmuring unfounded reassurances to the others in a bid to raid their morale, but mainly to put his own worries to rest. He felt like he was being watched. Goosebumps prickled across his body; the hair on the back of his neck grew rigid. His instincts told him that they were walking into a trap. And as Kingsley himself had once told him, always trust your instincts.

"OK, lads," he said finally, in tones louder than he felt comfortable with. "We're pretty much here. Davis, radio back to base; tell 'em we've arrived. Staff Sergeant, Private, go with McFearson to look for survivors; I'll go with Gregory. If you see anyone, call me, and we'll radio back to the Colonel that we've got men down in the mortars' range. Understood?"

The men murmured unenthusiastically that they had understood and they split up seconds later. Davis reached to manipulate the clump of radio equipment on his back but he never got there. A shot rang through the air and a bullet sliced into his fore-arm. He let out a yell of pain and fell sprawling to the floor. The radio equipment fell with him, smashing into a battered lump.

"Man down!" roared the Lieteunant, as a second shot whished past, millimetres away from his skull. He dived to the floor and crawled to where Davis lay as shot after shot were loosed from up above somewhere. He heard a scream nearby and felt his blood turn to ice. He would never be able to forgive himself if one of the party was killed.

Nicholas scrambled over to Davis' side. The man was borderline shell-shocked. He lay in a pathetic fetal-like position, muttering to himself as he stared up at the sky to locate their seemingly invisble attacker.

"Are you alright?" said Nicholas frantically, inspecting the man's wound. Davis nodded hurriedly, pointing with a shaky finger at the radio equipment.

"Broken," he whispered. "How are we going to radio back?"

Nicholas didn't answer, but instead dragged the gibbering man behind a large hedge, the best cover he could find in the darkness. Shots could still be heard in the blackness; the others were either dead, pinned down or unable to defend themselves against the skulking assassin. Nicholas bowed his head woefully. He had led the men to their deaths.

[S.SGT David Bevan]

David followed the rest of the party. Nicholas tried to keep the spirits up but he didn't seem to optimistic himself. David then began to feel uneasy and clutched his rifle tighter. His right hand instinctively slid down his side to where his pistol rested in his holster.

David froze as the first round left the KAR98K. Then less than a second later a second shot rang out and pierced his thigh passing strait through the flesh and out the other side. David rolled crudely into the cover of a tree.

"Sniper" he yelled above the noise of the gunfire.

David returned fire with his Lee-Infield. He fired shot after shot up into the tree canopy. There was no time for accuracy all he could do was pin them down until someone else could take them out. He knew there were at least two of them but he could not make out more than their shadows in the trees. Where the hell is Callard he thought to himself.

Callard emerged from the bushes and broke cover as the gunfire began. He had lots of ground to gain and he had to get there fast. Abandoning stealth he sprinted between the trees his Springfield hanging on his back. Then he felt a heavy object connect with his head at great speed sending him sprawling to the floor.

Callard closed his eyes momentarily before forcing them open. A Gerry in a ghille suit stood above him about to deal a finishing blow with his bayonet. Callard grasped the KAR98K firmly and attempted to prise it from the enemy's grasp. The pair tumbled to the floor while still raining blows down upon each other.

Callard threw the rifle aside with a triumphant roar. His hand then shot to where his knife rested on his belt and drew it in one smooth movement. He attempted to drive the blade right into his enemy's eye but the Germans hand had caught his wrist.

[Daniel Brennan]

Mod-Post

CP:
Ealing: 9CP

David: 8CP

Rodders: 8CP


~Dan