James was in the middle of running a survival course when he simply blacked out.  He woke up to find himself flat on his back staring up at the sky.  "Bloody hell."   He said, sitting up and looking around.  He was in a forest of some kind, not one that he recognized immediately.   Had he ended up in another exercise, his lunch drugged or some such?<br/><br/>He got to his feet, finding that he was still in full combat load.   AW 50 sniper rifle, Sig Sauer P226 sidearm in his hip holster, rucksack that felt the same weight, assorted odds and ends (including ammunition) that were on his web belt.  He sniffed the air absently then got concerned because it didn't smell right.<br/><br/>He didn't have time to ponder the matter, however, because the sound of gunfire suddenly diverted his attention away from his contemplation of the environment.  He followed first the echo of gunfire then the sound of voices.   American mostly, from the way that they sounded.   He carefully pushed aside a large leaf to see a mixed gathering of civilians and military personnel.<br/><br/>"I'm coming down, hold your fire."   He called out before stepping into view, his rifle slung at the shoulder.  "I'm Staff Sergeant Livingston, SAS."   He carefully  made his way down the slope to join the others.