Welcome... Home? Towards OMEGA's Omega. (IC)
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Extreme =&gt; Extreme Small Groups =&gt; Topic started by: AlexStone on 04-06-2013, 04:14:39</h2>
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				Title: <strong>Welcome... Home? Towards OMEGA's Omega. (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>AlexStone</strong> on <strong>04-06-2013, 04:14:39</strong>
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				<div align="center"><em>Aboard USS Tulare, anchored in Barren Isle Gap, Maryland.&nbsp; 8 Miles NE of the mouth of the Patuxent River</em></div><br>While landlubbers call it the smell of the sea, anyone who has spent three or so weeks aboard a troopship knows it's really the smell of the land.&nbsp; For most of those aboard <em>Tulare</em>, it was also the smell of home, for the first time in years.&nbsp; Currently, <em>Tulare</em> rode at anchor in one of the many dips of the Chesapeake coastline, in company with two other ships: USS <em>Fanning</em>, a three decade's old warhorse from the <em>Knox</em> class, streaked with rust and half the size of <em>Tulare</em>, and the massive <em>USNS Pollux</em> the size of an aircraft carrier and nearly as fast.&nbsp; <em>Pollux</em> carried nearly all the vehicles for the 3rd Division, and a great deal of the heavy equipment as well, and even a large chunk of the personnel, while <em>Tulare</em> rounded out the division.&nbsp; <br><br>A great deal had changed since the Rock of the Marne had pulled up stakes from the area around Bad Liebenwarda.&nbsp; General Warton had gotten them to Bremerhaven nearly in one piece, and dropped dead- not from a gunshot, or even from complications from that Taubin attack outside Lvov in '97, but good old cancer.&nbsp; Maybe it started with the radiation, or maybe it would have been his time all along.&nbsp; Either way, it meant that General Kurtz came over from Vth Corps and took over the division- given that, out of four "brigades" in the division, only one was actually commanded by a Brigadier General, and that one a Canadian, promotion out of the ranks wasn't likely.&nbsp; On the voyage over, Kurtz decided regularize the division, breaking up the ad-hoc fire brigades that had been a staple of the division since '98 or so, and reforming into something that could pass as standard units.&nbsp; This meant reforming the 4/4th Cav, which had been broken up for a long time, and reinforcing its losses to a reinforced pre-war troop.<br><br>This also meant that, for the most part, wholly new teams were put together on the voyage over.&nbsp; Most troopers from the old organization knew each other- by reputation if not by sight, but nearly every platoon of every troop was making a fresh start once they landed back in the US.&nbsp; The lists had been published a few days ago, letting the new squadmates mingle with each other, if they wanted to, and all efforts were made to get them all to mess together, work details permitting.&nbsp; <br><br>At 0830, on November 14th, 2000, the ship's announcers crackled to life- the ship was one of the last places with electricity and hot water in the world- and announced. "Members of the 4th of the 4th will report to the following locations: Troop A: The Fantail.&nbsp; Troop B: Enlisted Mess.&nbsp; Troop C: Forward Cargo Hatch.&nbsp; Troop D: Port Boat Deck, in one half an hour."&nbsp; &nbsp; 
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				Title: <strong>Re: Welcome... Home? Towards OMEGA's Omega. (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>mayovagn</strong> on <strong>05-06-2013, 03:39:44</strong>
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				(http://daamanagement.co.uk/images_client/main/249_Josette_Simon-Square.jpg)<br><strong>Jen Godly "V"<br>Sickbay<br>Wondering how in the hell so many people manage to catch STD's and how long the antibiotics can possibly hold out.<br></strong><br><br><br>Make do and mend. Words to live by. There was a lot of that going on lately. There had to be. With very limited supplies and not enough, well, everything to go round everyone was having to find clever and innovative solutions to all kinds of problems.<br><br>Wrap it before you dip it. Also words to live by. This was the third case of the clap today. There seemed to be some kind of epidemic going on. Did everyone on this ship just jump on the first willing set of genitals to walk past regardless of who they were attached to? It was enough to put someone off of the whole idea for life. Plus there was the inspections to go through.<br><br>She had been picking up a lot of new medical knowledge on this trip so far. They were short staffed in the medical department on board ship and in the division so any and all medics were pulling all kinds of extra duty. She now knew more about general practice than she felt was strictly healthy. Breaks were few and far between since signing on with this insane bunch of septics. (1) This latest patient, it seemed, had been living with the burning and a nasty itching for at least three weeks and could very well have been responsible for a lot of the social diseases on board. The inspection was an eye opener, though a little man, apparently from somewhere called 'The Bronx' according to his 'Bronx thugs for life' tattoo, had the biggest equipment Jen had ever seen. It was quite frightening. If the man was a grower instead of just a shower he would almost certainly have been causing tearing.<br><br>"I am afraid this had gone well beyond oral medication." Jen lied, this man needed to be taught a lesson. Though quite what that lesson needed to be was currently just out of reach, she was very tired. "It will have to be an injection to the infected area." Well, she had already been forced to put on latex gloves and handle his junk, she might as well stick a needle into it right?<br><br>"You what? Nah, man, I..." The man started trying to back up, which was complicated by the dark brown skinned woman who was currently holding onto him by a rather delicate part, her other hand already reaching for the hypodermic.<br><br>"Has to be done. Don't be a baby. Look away if you can't bear to watch."<br><br>This was only the third time she had seen a grown man faint dead away. Having made certain that he hadn't injured himself in the fall Jen jabbed him in the junk and swabbed the needlemark with antiseptic before asking an orderly to hoist him onto a gurney.<br><br>There was, as Jen was writing up her report, a request on the tannoy for members of her Troop to assemble in the Enlisted mess. The report done Jen collected her things and gave the head of staff present a nod, "Gotta go, his masters voice and all."<br><br>"I heard what you did to that specialist." The Captain currently in charge of sickbay was all smiles, "That story you are telling me later. In detail. I want to hear about the look on that boy's face when you pulled out that needle."<br><br>"You want to hear about the look on my face when he dropped his bloody trousers." Jen countered. "Later. I have to go play house with whatever wankers they put me with."<br><br>Things were pretty informal between the sickbay staff, a minor advantage of all the long hours and having shouted at each other enough times. All the kinks in the relationships had been worked out and everyone was comfortable with each other. They knew each others limits and what buttons they could push without causing meltdown.<br><br>The walk to the elisted mess took Jen past all kinds of strangeness, still the whole world had gone pretty strange lately and it was warmer and safer here on this ship than it was back in blighty. Her country was so badly wounded it would never be the same. The US was supposed to be slightly better, though not by too much. Still there was a lot of open country there you could just vanish into. Never a bad thing.<br><br>Arriving in the mess in question Jen wandered to the back of the room and took a seat, opening her battered copy of Tintinalli's Emergency Medicine she had blagged from one of the permanent med staff on board, Doctor Jackson. Jackson drank way too much and tended to cheat at cards, but she did both only when she wasn't likely to be on duty for a good long time. Consequently she had done neither the entire trip. She was however also one of the nicest most caring people Jen had ever met. Fun and effervescent with a bedside manner that would put the incomparable Florence Nightingale to shame.<br><br>The words were a little blurry and Jen rubbed at her tired eyes. Shit, she needed sleep, what was she doing awake and sat in this room for again?<br><br><br><br>(1) Cockney rhyming slang - Septic Tank = Yank
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				Title: <strong>Re: Welcome... Home? Towards OMEGA's Omega. (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>vin26m</strong> on <strong>05-06-2013, 04:55:42</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/9/94/126px-TunnelRatROCFilecard.jpg)</div> <br><br>&nbsp;<strong>Name:</strong>&nbsp; Sergeant Nicky Lee<br>&nbsp;<strong>Nationality:</strong>&nbsp; American<br>&nbsp;<strong>Class/Skill Set:</strong> Combat Engineer<br>&nbsp;<strong>Location:</strong>&nbsp; Motor Pool<br>&nbsp;<strong>Tagged:</strong>&nbsp; Clark, Choi, open<br><br><hr><br>Sergeant Nicky Lee, combat engineer and U.S. Army Ranger, had been lying across the hood of the trusty Humvee that got him away from the last bridge he blew up in Europe to what was left of the 4th.&nbsp; It wasn't technically his vehicle (it did, after all, belong to the Army), but he certainly had an attachment to it.&nbsp; It was only 0830 but he was already feeling kind of exhausted from helping with running the stills that made fuel on the ship.&nbsp; Upon hearing the announcement, he flexed his stomach muscles and curled himself up to a sitting position.&nbsp; He looked around at his new crew.&nbsp; They weren't Rangers, but they were soldiers, and they're what he had.<br><br>There was Clark, the sniper.&nbsp; He was Canadian, which was something that Lee liked to remind him of often.&nbsp; Lee seemed to know him best.&nbsp; He found the designated marksman heading west on foot a while ago, and Lee gave him a ride.&nbsp; Turned out they were both the sole survivors of their respective units, something they pretty much stopped talking about once it came up.<br><br>Then there was Choi, the mechanic.&nbsp; Lee would make like he was watching "his" Humvee whenever a mechanic worked on it, but in Choi's case, he was just watching <em>her</em>.&nbsp; Choi bending over at the waist and drawing attention to her legs as she looked under the hood.&nbsp; Choi laying on her back and exposing her stomach while working underneath the Hummer.&nbsp; Choi on all fours to get a better view at something and giving Lee a better view of something else, too.&nbsp; Lee liked to think that she was doing it intentionally for him, but she may have had no idea what she was doing to him.&nbsp; And it was good for the Hummer too.&nbsp; Lee didn't know why, but Choi seemed to be perfect for the Hummer.<br><br><br><br>Edited:&nbsp; Changed "Tunnel Rat" to Lee.&nbsp; Fixed typos.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Welcome... Home? Towards OMEGA's Omega. (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>07-06-2013, 20:03:40</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(http://i1240.photobucket.com/albums/gg481/indytims/liam1_zps538bd928.jpg)</div> <br><br>&nbsp;<strong>Name:</strong>&nbsp; Cpl. Alex Clark<br>&nbsp;<strong>Nationality:</strong>&nbsp; Canadian<br>&nbsp;<strong>Class/Skill Set:</strong> Designated Marksman/Sniper<br>&nbsp;<strong>Location:</strong>&nbsp; Motor Pool<br>&nbsp;<strong>Tagged:</strong>&nbsp; Lee, Choi, open<br><br>It had been a long trip back on the boat to North America. Despite the ups and downs ship-life provided, Alex was able to get some seriously needed shut-eye. He couldn't remember the last time he had slept so well, that first night on the ship. Storm or no storm, high waves or rough ride, it didn't matter to him as he had slept like a rock. He had spent the better part of the past several months sleeping with one eye open, alone, avoiding enemy and looters and who knows what else before finally hooking up with the Americans.<br><br>He had never been so happy to see the stars-and-stripes in his entire life.<br><br>His own unit, the 1st Canadian Brigade Group, 3rd Battalion, Princess Patricia's Canadian Light Infantry Bravo Company was wiped out to a man - except one. Him. Whether it was divine intervention, the plan of the cosmos, or sheer luck, he didn't much care, he just knew he was alive and he planned to keep it that way.<br><br>Alex's first good night's sleep wasn't -exactly- perfect. Then nightmares continued - images of his comrades shredded, butchered and bloodied. Davis had simply disappeared - nothing left but his boots where he had stood before taking a direct hit - his feet still in them. Reynolds was still breathing when Alex had reached him, but he was bleeding so badly as he begged and pleaded with his last dying breath, tears rolling down his cheeks, for Alex to seek out his wife and kids and tell them that he loved them before he bled out in Alex's arms.<br><br>No, Alex didn't know why he had been spared, and part of him was still back there on that shitty patch of earth, dead, right alongside his brothers and sisters in arms.<br><br>But he had a new unit now. At least for the time-being, he had been 'adopted' into the 4/4 American, and for that Alex was grateful for two reasons: 1) They were going back to North America, and 2) He could understand what the hell they were saying. Even the limey that joined them could be understood, despite her accent. Most just assume Alex was just another American, until they got a closer inspection of his uniform, or he told them where he was from. How many Yanks had given them that thousand-mile blank stare and asked, "Where the hell is 'Red Deer, Alberta'?" He had lost count.<br><br>Alex frequently checked-up on the American soldier that had found him along the road-side, Sgt. Lee. Alex had lost count of the number of days he had been alone, and was running low on all his basic supplies. When he saw the hummer, he had hopes that it was a NATO vehicle of some kind and he hid off to the side of the road until he could make out some sort of markings. American. He decided then to take his chance, despite knowing that the driver could be from either side. Alex moved out to the road, flagged the vehicle down, and the rest was history.<br><br>Since then, he'd endured constant reminders from Sgt. Lee that Alex was in fact Canadian - as if Alex would forget it, as he proudly displayed his country badge on his left shoulder-sleeve all the time.<br><br>The mechanic was Choi, and it was obvious that Sgt. Lee had a 'thing' for her. More than once Alex had caught the man staring at the mechanic as if she were a fresh piece of meat, and who knew? Maybe she was one of the last women on the planet for all they knew. <br><br>Alex sat in the passenger seat of the hummer, door opened while he cleaned his weapons. Word was that they were close to getting off this floating tin-can, and he was looking forward to being one step closer to home. Sgt. Lee lay spread across the hood of the humvee, 'supervising' as he liked to call it as Choi labored beneath the hummer's engine compartment.<br><br>"Thirty minutes, Sergeant," Alex said. "Should we head there early for good seats, or what?" he asked. 
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Welcome... Home? Towards OMEGA's Omega. (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>vin26m</strong> on <strong>08-06-2013, 15:07:09</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/9/94/126px-TunnelRatROCFilecard.jpg)</div> <br><br>&nbsp;<strong>Name:</strong>&nbsp; Sergeant Nicky Lee<br>&nbsp;<strong>Nationality:</strong>&nbsp; American<br>&nbsp;<strong>Class/Skill Set:</strong> Combat Engineer<br>&nbsp;<strong>Location:</strong>&nbsp; Motor Pool<br>&nbsp;<strong>Tagged:</strong>&nbsp; Clark, Choi, open<br><br><hr><br>Lee turned to Clark, nodding.&nbsp; <br><br><strong>"Sounds like a plan, Corporal Canada."</strong>&nbsp; <br><br>He slid off the hood and landed gracefully on his feet.&nbsp; He stretched his arms a bit and twisted his trunk to loosen up.&nbsp; <br><br><strong>"I doon't suppoose you knoow what this is aboot, eh?"</strong>&nbsp; Lee smiled as he said that, aping what he thought was a stereotypical Canadian's accent.&nbsp; <strong>"The guys in basic used to make fun'a me cuz'a my Brooklyn accent.&nbsp; Figured I gotta find a new one.&nbsp; So how's about it?&nbsp; Can I pass for Edmonton or Calgary?"</strong><br><br>Lee's knowledge of Canada was based solely on his favorite sport to watch, ice hockey.&nbsp; He lay down on a mechanic's creeper, which he liked to use as a skateboard, and slid under the Humvee next to Choi.&nbsp; Even without being jacked up, the Humvee had plenty of space underneath it to serve as a place to take a nap.&nbsp; When tanks rolled by, Lee liked to lay face down and feel the vibrations from the ground.<br><br><strong>"Okay, Choi, you can fix her up some more later.&nbsp; The Canuck wants a good seat in the mess hall.&nbsp; You comin' with, or we savin' you a spot at our lunch table?"</strong><br><br><br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Welcome... Home? Towards OMEGA's Omega. (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>NiceTexasGuy</strong> on <strong>09-06-2013, 06:07:03</strong>
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				(http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/7/7e/American_soldier_in_Vietnam.jpg)<br><strong>Name:</strong>&nbsp; Randy James "R.J." Johnson<br><strong>Position:</strong>&nbsp; Grenadier<br><strong>Location:</strong>&nbsp; Somewhere in the smelly bowels of the <em>USS Tulare</em><br><br>*******<br><br>"Fuck!"<br><br>After standing in line for almost an hour just to get a little breakfast, RJ had just made his way back to the crowded smelly hole in the ship crammed with canvas beds on aluminum frames stacked five high the sailors call "troop berthing" when the announcement was made to turn his happy little ass around and head back to the place he just came from.<br><br><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=175864.msg8338241#msg8338241">Quote from: AlexStone on 04-06-2013, 04:14:39</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote"> Troop A: The Fantail.&nbsp; Troop B: Enlisted Mess.&nbsp; Troop C: Forward Cargo Hatch.&nbsp; Troop D: Port Boat Deck&nbsp; &nbsp;<br></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br>At least it was a place he knew how to get to.&nbsp; The "fantail" he wasn't sure of, but he guessed it was on the ass end of the ship (not a boat, as he quickly learned at the beginning of the voyage) and the forward cargo hold was forward, and a cargo hold, which wouldn't have been his first choice for a meeting room.&nbsp; He still didn't get that port and starboard thing, one more reason to be glad he wasn't assigned to D-Troop.&nbsp; (The other reason was their new First Sergeant was more of an ass than he really needed to be to get the job done.&nbsp; He and RJ had gotten into it a couple of times when they were closer in rank.&nbsp; Now RJ was back down to Specialist, while that kiss-ass <em>fuck</em> had gone up two grades in the same amount of time.)<br><br>When the new assignments were first posted, RJ had made a cursory attempt to find someone from his squad, or at least his platoon, but to no avail.&nbsp; After a while, he gave up.&nbsp; Besides, he was working on a plan of his own he wasn't going to bother running up the chain of command.&nbsp; The plan was that as soon as the ship landed (or whatever it is ships do) then he and a couple of his "home boys" from Oklahoma would head home on their own.&nbsp; It wasn't like America needed an army now that its out of the war, right?<br><br>In Europe it hadn't taken them long to quit listening to the rumors about what was happening back home.&nbsp; Civil war in America.&nbsp; America was split into four different countries, or was it a dozen?&nbsp; Or did each state became its own country.&nbsp; One rumor had the Russians taking over California and the Mexicans taking over Texas.&nbsp; The other rumor had the Russians taking over Texas while the Mexicans took over California.&nbsp; The guys from Texas said neither rumor could be true, but belived the one about the President still alive and hiding out in a missile silo in Montana.&nbsp; But, now that they were going home, the rumors seemed more important.&nbsp; It was important to figure out which ones were true and which weren't.&nbsp; After all, if every town had its own militia that wouldn't allow anyone else to pass through the town, how were he and his two buddies supposed to make it all the way to Oklahoma?<br><br>He was early, one of the first to arrive on the mess decks, so was able to get a good vantage point to see everyone else as they entered.&nbsp; Finally, from among the teaming masses of people on the ship wearing all manner of patches, he could now see who was going to be in his troop.&nbsp; As members of the newly reconstituted B-troop of 4/4 Cav drifted in, RJ saw a lot of faces he'd seen before, but no one he knew very well.&nbsp; All that was left now was to see how long it would take the officers to get their shit together and get things organized.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Welcome... Home? Towards OMEGA's Omega. (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Neysha</strong> on <strong>10-06-2013, 22:16:20</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(http://rebzombie.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/05/the-front-line-Kim-Ok-Bin.jpg)</div><strong>Name: Sukhee Choi<br>Nationality:&nbsp; American<br>Class/Skill Set: Mechanic<br>Location:&nbsp; Motor Pool<br></strong><br>“Yes sir,” Private Choi grunted as she slid out from under the Humvee. She was well aware of the Sergeants lecherous stares and had felt his eyes on her ever since she had been assigned to this unit but managed to play it off so far, neither enticing or antagonizing the Sergeant who, despite his seemingly unsavory nature, seemed to be nice and professional enough, all things considered. Plus, in a tight spot, maybe his affinity for her would be to her benefit sometime, especially if the bullets started snapping past their heads again even though they had returned home.<br><br>Following the Sergeant and their Canadian companion, she dusted off the drier bits of grime that was clinging to her clothing, knowing there was still a fair amount of grease caking her hands and decided to give it a quick wash so she wouldn’t be leaving black hand prints on everything she touched, though her hands would still be obviously oil stained. Though dirty and a bit sweaty from working whilst trapped in the hold of the vessel, she managed to keep the noticeable grease stains either on her hands, or a bit of a smudge on the tip of her nose, when she took too close of a gander at the engine at one point.<br><br>“Think I’m presentable?” she asked the Sergeant informally, as she stood in an olive drab tee shirt and a pair of civilian issue, forest green cargo pants she likely ‘found’ back in Europe. Her kicks however were still standard Army issue however, as her boots almost looked oversized on her skinny, toned, alabaster legs as she followed the two of them. 
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Welcome... Home? Towards OMEGA's Omega. (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>vin26m</strong> on <strong>11-06-2013, 03:39:49</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/9/94/126px-TunnelRatROCFilecard.jpg)</div> <br><br>&nbsp;<strong>Name:</strong>&nbsp; Sergeant Nicky Lee<br>&nbsp;<strong>Nationality:</strong>&nbsp; American<br>&nbsp;<strong>Class/Skill Set:</strong> Combat Engineer<br>&nbsp;<strong>Location:</strong>&nbsp; Motor Pool to Mess Hall<br>&nbsp;<strong>Tagged:</strong>&nbsp; Choi, Clark, open<br><br><hr><br><em>"Yes sir."</em><br><br>Sergeant Lee reacted to that the way his drill instructors in basic did.<br><br><strong>"Goddammit, private, Who you callin' 'sir?'&nbsp; I'm not an officer.&nbsp; I <em>work</em> for a livin'.&nbsp; I'd make you do push-ups, but you'll probably make a big greasy spot on the floor for someone to slip on."</strong><br><br>He smiled at her.<br><br><em>"Think I’m presentable?"</em><br><br>Sergeant Lee looked Choi up and down.&nbsp; He didn't have to admire her from afar while she was working on his... the section's... Humvee.&nbsp; She was inviting him to take a look at her.&nbsp; <br><br>He burned her image in his mind, imagining what her slim, fair-skinned figure looked like underneath her slightly sweaty t-shirt oversized pants and ever-present layer of grease on some body part or another.&nbsp; Back in the world, away from this, Lee just might have been more than a little infatuated with her.&nbsp; But here, he was senior to her, and though his eyes could not help but wander, he otherwise kept it together verbally and manually.<br><br><strong>"Lookin' impressive as usual, Choi, making' the rest of us look bad."</strong><br><br>Lee liked Clark and Choi.&nbsp; It gave him a strange sense of comfort to bust their chops, and he was more than willing to let them bust his in return.<br><br>On the way to the mess hall, Lee contemplated the current organization.<br><br><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Military Stuff</div><div class="spoiler_body">There was the 3rd Mechanized Infantry Division.<br><br>The 3rd had a bunch of battalions, including their calvary battalion, or squadron, called the 4/4.<br><br>Within the 4/4 squadron, there were four company sized units.&nbsp; Calvary companies are called troops.<br><br>"A Troop" had tanks.&nbsp; "B Troop" and "C Troop" had light trucks like Humvees.&nbsp; "D Troop" had motorcycles and bicycles.<br><br>Lee, Choi, Clark and others were in "B Troop," specifically the 3rd Platoon.<br><br>The platoon had two sections.&nbsp; They were in the first section.<br></div></div><br>Upon entering the mess, Lee took a seat, saving a couple for Choi and Clark.&nbsp; He looked around, learning faces, trying to connect them with names, while waiting for the briefing to start.<br><br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>A Briefing</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>AlexStone</strong> on <strong>12-06-2013, 18:55:54</strong>
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				<div align="center"><em>Enlisted Mess, USS Tulare.</em><br>(http://i40.tinypic.com/bya1w.jpg)<br></div><br>While it's nothing to write home about, it is heated, and has electric lights.&nbsp; While that's rare on land these days, apparently, the US Navy is still in the 20th century, at least as long as they have fuel oil.&nbsp; That probably won't last too much longer, unfortunately.&nbsp; There's still some food laid out to eat- leftovers from breakfast, and sandwiches made from last night's chow.&nbsp; Can't throw anything out in this day and age, unless it's well past gone.&nbsp; Still, the Navy has been playing pretty good host- even if the soda machine ran out of the last Diet Coke on earth the first day out of Bremerhaven.&nbsp; At least the coffee, if a little weak, is still going.<br><br>This might be the second, or third time that the Troop has assembled as something like a whole.&nbsp; Early arrivals can see the officers of the troop- even the C.O.- looking over maps for the region, mostly sorting them to make sure they get the right ones.&nbsp; A closer look shows that they're old USGS Maps of the Maryland coastline, a little out of date at the beginning of the war, and almost certainly in worse shape now.&nbsp; The CO leaves just as most of the troop starts arriving, but the officers stay up at the front table for quite a while.&nbsp; Sergeant Hart, the PSG, comes in just after R.J. Johnson, and grabs a spot at the table next to his- a respectful distance, and making sure to stake out enough terrain for the whole platoon- which is really just a couple of tables, given it's a squad or so.&nbsp; The bulk of 1st section grabs spots at the table, while second section trickles in, and Private Afridi pants softly as she lays down under table, right in scritching distance from most of the platoon.&nbsp; <br><br><div class="floatright">(http://i39.tinypic.com/2nrpv6p.jpg)<br><em>Capt. Finn, back when he had a tank</em></div>&nbsp; The party at the front table breaks up, and Lt. Jones seems to be looking more than a little serious, with a bunch&nbsp; of maps rolled up in her hand.&nbsp; The Navy has a podium, even, with <em>Tulare's</em>&nbsp; patch painted on the front.&nbsp; Captain Bruce Finn, the troop XO, takes up the podium, while Topper Bartley and some Navy JG with slightly worn, but still perfectly pressed, khakis take seats at the table at the front of the mess, which is still papered in maps.&nbsp; Captain Finn waits a bit to make sure no one got lost on the way to the mess (As if people could forget where the food came from) and then nodded to Bartley.<br><br>"Room!&nbsp; Ten-hut!" she barks, like a drill sergeant. (Which she was, apparently.)&nbsp; Everyone snaps to.<br><br>"Seats, please," Finn says, slightly sheepishly.&nbsp; "Well, folks, if you've been on deck anytime in the last couple of days, you realize that's America out there.&nbsp; So, welcome home, and, for our foreign friends, welcome to the US.&nbsp; I've been told INS will process your paperwork when they get around to it.&nbsp; Of course, as much as we've enjoyed imposing on the Navy's hospitality, we belong on the ground, not seasick and swabbing decks." He walks over and pulls up the projector screen behind him, revealing two maps- one of the US, and one of the Chesapeake.&nbsp; "Now, US Returning Forces have, as you've probably figured out, broken up out of convoy, and are looking for places to put in and establish garrisons for the winter.&nbsp; FORSCOM has ordered us to deploy in a line, generally, from Boston in the north to DC in the south, 7th Army in the north and 4th in the south.&nbsp; Now, as you might expect, Washington took several hits in the strategic exchange, and is not considered a viable location for deployment.&nbsp; Given that fact, and the fact that 3rd Mech is going to be the southern flank of this whole formation, we're going to deploy somewhere between Baltimore and Washington, while the rest of I Corps, along with III Corps, will head into Wilmington and deploy either along the Baltimore/Wilmington line, or into Delmarva."&nbsp; He gestures to the maps, first the US map, and then to the Chesapeake regional map, giving everything in more detail.&nbsp; <br><br>"That said, obviously, we need to find a place to pull the ships with our gear up to the shore and offload them.&nbsp; Obviously, it would be great to find a fully operational marine terminal, complete with heavy moving equipment, a stevedores' union and plenty of electricity, but that may not work out for us.&nbsp; Obviously, both ships have their own cranes, so if we can find a place to bring them in and an area to move stuff off the ship, we can make a go of it in pretty primitive conditions.&nbsp; The 4/4th has been tasked, along with units from the Navy, to find a suitable location to offload the men and materiel of 3rd ID. <br><br>"In order to accomplish this objective, the Squadron will deploy by troops to likely areas.&nbsp; A Troop will deploy across the Eastern Shore- while this isn't the best place for us overall, it will be a lot less damaged than the western coast of Maryland, especially if the Chesapeake Bridge is still usable- and, since we're westbound, there's no toll."&nbsp; He paused to see if anyone laughed.&nbsp; "C Troop will investigate Annapolis and the Severn River area.&nbsp; D Troop will deploy to the north, to recon the Aberdeen Proving Ground and the route between Wilmington and Baltimore, both for the rest of the Corps and in case we need to pull out and head for Wilmington ourselves."<br><br>That did leave two caps in his coverage- B Troop, and one big, obvious empty spot on the map, and he paused before announcing it, so that those who'd figured it out could tense and relax.&nbsp; "That leaves Baltimore for us.&nbsp; Intelligence figures that Dundalk should have been on the Soviet hit list, and, based on estimates worked up by SAC after the strike, so should have the tank farm out in Curtis Bay.&nbsp; There are reports nuclear strikes in the region, though, if we're honest, we can't measure the reliability of those statements.&nbsp; So, either we're getting the most important part of this, or the absolute easiest one.&nbsp; We won't know for sure until we get there."&nbsp; <br><br>He turned back to the map for a bit. "Here's the plan of operation: At 1400 tomorrow, we will load boats crewed by members of the US Navy, and proceed up the Chesapeake in the company of USS <em>Fanning</em>.&nbsp; As we pass assigned disembarkation points on the trip, various units will peel off to make their landings.&nbsp; Squadron command will be aboard <em>Fanning,</em> as will our First Sergeant.&nbsp; We will proceed to a few miles off Sparrow Point, then wait for darkness to enter Baltimore Harbor.&nbsp; First Platoon will recon Curtis Bay.&nbsp; Second Platoon will cover the Inner Harbor and Locust Point, while Third will head for the Dundalk Terminals.&nbsp; Fourth Platoon will stay afloat in reserve, as will Troop HQ.&nbsp; I'll be with Fourth Platoon, and if they deploy, I'll take command of the situation.&nbsp; The Mortar Platoon will deploy with Fourth Platoon.&nbsp; The Major will stay afloat to coordinate the troop's activity, and as I said, the First Sergeant will be aboard <em>Fanning</em> to act as liaison with Squadron HQ.&nbsp; <br><br>"The immediate mission, to be accomplished that night, is to determine if any of the port structures are intact.&nbsp; If the ones in your sector aren't, back on the boats and join up with 4th Platoon for further orders.&nbsp; If they are, secure a perimeter and wait for sunrise, then complete a recon of the area in daylight.&nbsp; The Navy crews in your boats will undertake some hydrographic surveys if the facilities are there.&nbsp; Generally speaking, you'll be operating on your own initiative as to how to accomplish this recon, though further instructions can be had from Troop HQ if you need advice on how best to proceed.&nbsp; <br><br>"As it stands, our only fire support will come from <em>Fanning, </em> until we can get our mortars set up somewhere.&nbsp; She's the only support for the whole squadron, so she may or may not be in position, and the Navy has asked us to help them conserve her ammo, so only call if you need a barrage to break contact from an overwhelming force.&nbsp; <em>Fanning </em> will also serve as the Squadron's advanced resupply point, though, if feasible, the Navy will move supplies from the cargo ships up the Bay."&nbsp; He looked around, to see if there were any questions so far.&nbsp; "Alright, I'll turn it over to Sergeant Bartley."&nbsp; <br><br><div class="floatleft">(http://i42.tinypic.com/id7zhk.jpg)<br><em>First Sergeant Bartley, back in her Drill Sergeant Days</em></div>&nbsp; &nbsp;With the clomp of boot heels on steel decking the man and the woman swap places, and Topper Bartley took to the podium. "Like Captain Finn said, this is either going to be fast and easy, or we'll be going in for a while.&nbsp; If Baltimore is open, I expect that the Division will move there.&nbsp; To that end, I've pulled some more supplies out of the S-4 up at Squadron.&nbsp; We'll be sending along food and water for three days, in addition to the rations in your three-day packs.&nbsp; &nbsp;This will consist of one hot meal- prepared yourselves from bulk rations- and two MREs per day.&nbsp; These will fit into Navy transport.&nbsp; Also, given the potential radiological threat, each section will be issued a radiation detector.&nbsp; S-4 assures me that the Russian and Polish ones they gave us to make sure we had enough both work properly, and that the translations they've written in above the words on the adjustment dials are accurate.&nbsp; Feel free to check them, though, and the manuals are still with their previous owners.&nbsp; Feel free to make further supply requests through your platoon leaders, and PLs can bring them to me.<br><br>"If Division makes the decision to move us out of Baltimore, we will shift back to <em>Fanning</em> to reinforce the effort to find a suitable landing point.&nbsp; If Division decides to deploy to Baltimore, then we'll get reinforced by other Troops as they complete their missions, so expect reinforcement after a day or two.&nbsp; Division will look to deploy by the end of the week."&nbsp; She glanced around to answer any questions on her end, and then turned to the Navy officer. "Sir, it's all yours."<br><br>The Navy man detailed the transport plan, first for the Squadron, then the Troop.&nbsp; It worked out that each section would get their own open boat- mostly Navy issue.&nbsp; 3rd Platoon would go ashore in two whaleboats, one for each section, with room enough for more supplies.&nbsp; Each boat would have three sailors aboard, commanded by Petty Officer, and CPO would supervise each section's two boats together, with an actual officer back at Troop HQ. While Lt York would be in overall command of the two boats, the boat commanders were in charge of their boats and their safety, and would be tasked with assorted hydrographic jobs while the soldiers were ashore.&nbsp; And the end of his bit, he turned it back over to Finn.<br><br>"So, any questions?"&nbsp; After dealing with them, he finished up. "Alright, we've got this room until lunch, so feel free to make use of it.&nbsp; Lunch tomorrow will be early: 1030, and assemble for boarding the boats at 1200.&nbsp; <br><br>"Dismissed."&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Welcome... Home? Towards OMEGA's Omega. (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>vin26m</strong> on <strong>12-06-2013, 22:38:16</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/9/94/126px-TunnelRatROCFilecard.jpg)</div> <br><br>&nbsp;<strong>Name:</strong>&nbsp; Sergeant Nicky Lee<br>&nbsp;<strong>Nationality:</strong>&nbsp; American<br>&nbsp;<strong>Class/Skill Set:</strong> Combat Engineer<br>&nbsp;<strong>Location:</strong>&nbsp; Motor Pool to Mess Hall<br>&nbsp;<strong>Tagged:</strong>&nbsp; Choi, Clark, open<br><br><hr><br>It was a long, detailed briefing.<br><br><em>"So, any questions?"</em><br><br>Sergeant Lee smiled to himself.&nbsp; In the past, he would have raised his hand and said something like, "Is this goin' to be stand up fight, sir, or another bug hunt?"<br><br>But at this moment it just didn't seem like the right timing.&nbsp; They had a real recon mission ahead of them.<br><br>He raised his hand to get Captain Finn's attention.<br><br><strong>"I have a question, sir.&nbsp; <br><br>"You mentioned that our only fire support is from the <em>Fanning</em>, and that she may not be able to provide us with any.&nbsp; <br><br>"You also mentioned that we will wait for darkness before enterin' Baltimore Harbor.&nbsp; <br><br>"That implies that there may be someone out there for us to drop arty on, and that they may be lookin' for us while we're floatin' in.&nbsp; So my question is this...&nbsp; <br><br>"Just what kind of opposition might be out there, sir?&nbsp; Looters?&nbsp; Marauders?&nbsp; Gangs?&nbsp; Militia?&nbsp; Terrorists?&nbsp; Armed forces who went rogue?"</strong><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Welcome... Home? Towards OMEGA's Omega. (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>AlexStone</strong> on <strong>12-06-2013, 23:43:14</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(http://i39.tinypic.com/2nrpv6p.jpg)<br></div><br>"And, here I was, hoping no one would notice the complete lack of useful intelligence in that briefing."&nbsp; Captain Finn chuckled a bit, and gave a slight shrug.&nbsp; "To be honest, we're not very sure about what you'll find.&nbsp; The nearest Army post was Fort Meade, which we know took a big hit in the strategic exchanges.&nbsp; There was a unit there- the..." He pauses to flip through some papers, "228 Signal Brigade, but they mutinied sometime last year.&nbsp; For all we know, they went back home, where ever that is."&nbsp; He closed a ratty folder on the podium, then talked a bit further.&nbsp; "This is speculation, not an official estimate.&nbsp; In theory, we could find anything from a brass band and a grateful populace of Baltimore to a Soviet Motor Rifle Division occupying the former Capitalist Running Dog City of Baltimore.&nbsp; I doubt that either will be the case.&nbsp; If the Soviets really laid a citybuster pattern on Baltimore, we won't be there long enough to see anyone.&nbsp; If they didn't I suspect that we'll find some brave souls who are willing to poke around the ports to see what they could see."&nbsp; <br><br>He glanced over at the others, and First Sergeant Bartley spoke up. "From a logistical standpoint, there's not a lot at any of the ports, other than Curtis Bay, to support a large population.&nbsp; I don't think people will have moved their once the main city became uninhabitable.&nbsp; If there is some sort of government in Baltimore, and the docks are intact, they may have militia patrols there.&nbsp; Even if there isn't one, looters and pickers could be going through the port.&nbsp; If it's intact, I'd be ready for some sort of contact, and they may or may not be hostile."<br><br>The XO picked up on the obvious follow on.&nbsp; "If you do encounter other people, then obviously, act as you see fit to protect yourselves and complete the mission- but keep in mind, this is Baltimore, not Warsaw.&nbsp; In theory, the people there should be on our team."<br><br>He paused, giving Lee the chance to follow up if he wanted.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Welcome... Home? Towards OMEGA's Omega. (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>mayovagn</strong> on <strong>13-06-2013, 01:28:21</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				(http://daamanagement.co.uk/images_client/main/249_Josette_Simon-Square.jpg)<br><strong>Jen Godly "V"<br>Mess Hall<br>Asking damn food questions...<br></strong><br><br><br>Jen nodded along at everything, waiting till the sergeant was finished speaking before asking her own in turn, "Sir, in case it does go all kinds of wobbly, what is the casualty evacuation provision? Is there to be a designated casevac boat and if so where will it be on station?"<br><br>These were the sorts of questions that were, of course, important to a medic. She didn't want to think too hard about how within just a few scant hours most of the people in the room could have ceased to breath, yet someone had to. She could have asked about all kinds of other things too of course, yet this was her personal priority. The other possible silly questions everyone else could jump all over.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Welcome... Home? Towards OMEGA's Omega. (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>AlexStone</strong> on <strong>13-06-2013, 03:16:51</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(http://i39.tinypic.com/2nrpv6p.jpg)</div><br>Finn nodded at the Medic's question, and seemed to make a note to himself. "The Ambulance teams that are a part of Troop HQ will have their own boats- pretty fast ones.&nbsp; They'll speed over to the nearest dock, and make a determination.&nbsp; Ultimately, <em>Fanning's</em> sick bay will deal with any serious casualties, and the Squadron medical team will back up the Navy team there.&nbsp; Stable patients still in need of further care will be shipped back to Pollux, where, I understand, Division is setting up a hospital on the helo deck."&nbsp; As he talks, he lays out the plan and locations on the Chesapeake map tacked to the wall.&nbsp; "Given the distances involved, we're going to run into trouble for anyone who needs immediate major surgery, so it's going to be important for any platoon medics and the Ambulance teams to get as much field work done on the really catastrophic injuries as possible."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Welcome... Home? Towards OMEGA's Omega. (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>NiceTexasGuy</strong> on <strong>13-06-2013, 05:14:51</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				(http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/7/7e/American_soldier_in_Vietnam.jpg)<br><br><strong>Name:</strong>&nbsp; Randy James "R.J." Johnson<br><br><strong>Location:</strong>&nbsp; Enlisted Mess - <em>USS Tulare</em><br><br>*****************************<br><br>While this may have been everyone else's third or fourth company meeting, it was a first for R.J.&nbsp; Apparently, someone had first thought to put him in A-Troop as a medic until he pointed out he had worked as a <em>mechanic</em> prior to joining the Army - not medic as some clerk had hastily scribbled on a form once upon a time.&nbsp; Then he was assigned to a mortar team until it was determined there were more mortar teams than mortars.&nbsp; Finally, he found a new home, though he hadn't had the opportunity to meet many people in B Troop yet.<br><br>"Yes, Sir, I got a question .... these boats we'll be ridin' in on ... any way we can mount the Ma-deuce on one of them?"<br><br>R.J. hadn't seen any guns mounted on any of the boats he saw on the ship.&nbsp; He didn't relish the thought of lugging the heavy machine gun or anything associated with it (spare barrel, ammunition) around the state of Maryland -- but if they did start taking fire from the shore, one .50-cal would be worth ten M-60's (or a hundred SAW's).&nbsp; He hoped he wouldn't have to explain that to anyone, but with officers one can never tell so he looked around at some of the senior NCO's to see if any of them thought it might be a good idea.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Welcome... Home? Towards OMEGA's Omega. (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>13-06-2013, 10:42:33</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i1240.photobucket.com/albums/gg481/indytims/liam1_zps538bd928.jpg)</div> <br><br>&nbsp;<strong>Name:</strong>&nbsp; Cpl. Alex Clark<br>&nbsp;<strong>Nationality:</strong>&nbsp; Canadian<br>&nbsp;<strong>Class/Skill Set:</strong> Designated Marksman/Sniper<br>&nbsp;<strong>Location:</strong>&nbsp; Mess Hall<br>&nbsp;<strong>Tagged:</strong>&nbsp; open<br><br>Clark followed behind Lee and Choi as they made their way to the meeting location in the Mess Hall. He could hear the two of them speaking about Choi's appearance, and before Lee could answer Clark made a mental wager with himself how Lee would respond - and the man came through with flying colors. Lee complimented the woman without going overboard, remaining restrained in his remarks. Clark, of course, had a sneaky suspicion what Lee -wanted- to say, but he kept that to himself.<br><br>They soon arrived in the hall, and Clark was pretty surprised to see how many people there were. This had to be serious stuff, and from the sound of it there were more similar meetings taking place in other parts of the ship at that very moment, as well. Seats were chosen and the room was filled with the murmurs of curiosity and a tinge of excitement. <br><br>Attention was called - and those gathered snapped to rigid attention until Captain Finn put everyone at-ease. Quickly the room silenced as soldiers took their seats. <br><br>Clark listened intention to the briefing, and he was impressed with the presentation given, even with the lack of information. Clark didn't -expect- a lot of information, since the world had gone all screwing in the recent past. He took in the details and listened intently until eventually the briefing was completed.<br><br>A few random questions flew about the room and were quickly and efficiently answered. Lee asked a few and was given answers. Clark couldn't tell if Lee was happy with the answers or not. After Lee, some chick with a British accent asked medic-related questions, which Clark thought was pretty important, as well. If there -was- anyone left, there was the distinct possibility that they would not be too thrilled about a huge operation like this coming onto their turf - which meant conflict, which meant casualties.<br><br>The more questions popped out, including one from a blond guy asking about mounting a ma-deuce on a boat. <br><br>Clark listened and took it all in. He didn't have any questions himself, and even if he did, he was loathe to ask since he wasn't even a member of the American forces and didn't want to appear pushy when he wasn't even in his own country, so he simply remained quiet, watching and listening until it was time to depart.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Welcome... Home? Towards OMEGA's Omega. (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>AlexStone</strong> on <strong>13-06-2013, 13:16:13</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=175864.msg8389089#msg8389089">Quote from: NiceTexasGuy on 13-06-2013, 05:14:51</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote"><br>"Yes, Sir, I got a question .... these boats we'll be ridin' in on ... any way we can mount the Ma-deuce on one of them?"<br></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br>With a glance, Finn passed this off to the Navy JG that, up til this point, had been pretty quiet.&nbsp; He took the baton easily, though, and jumped right in. "Technically, you can't mount one to the boat directly- at least not without a lot of work.&nbsp; But, that said, it would not be difficult to use one with a tripod mount.&nbsp; You'll have to work with the boat crews to get any weight balance issues dealt with, but if you want to bring a big MG- or a small one, or even a recoiless rifle- and set it up on a tripod in the bow, that should work."<br><br>After than brief discussion, Sergeant Bartley adds in, "We have plenty of tripods for weapons, so send in a request for one if you want one.&nbsp; Just get it to me by 1600 to make sure we have time to break them out of stores."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Welcome... Home? Towards OMEGA's Omega. (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Neysha</strong> on <strong>13-06-2013, 15:42:49</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://rebzombie.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/05/the-front-line-Kim-Ok-Bin.jpg)</div><strong>Name: Sukhee Choi<br>Nationality:&nbsp; American<br>Class/Skill Set: Mechanic<br>Location:&nbsp; Motor Pool<br></strong><br><br>Private Choi left the briefing with her team, having no real background in asking questions or knowing what questions she should bother asking. More or less, she was implicitly trusting everyone else in the briefing to asking the appropriate questions. The lack of useful intelligence was disconcerting, but she figured it was out of her control anyhow. They had to go in somewhere and it was just as good to head in here as anywhere else on the northeastern seaboard. She figured she wouldn't be able to change anything until it faced her directly. So she largely remained quiet, already setting out how to plan for the rest of her day and figuring most of it would be spent with the vehicles. Both the humvees and getting familiarized with the boats. After all, the whole region was lacerated with waterways and wetlands so this landing might not be the last time they utilize boats, so she figured continuing to familiarize herself with them and their operation and how to adapt them to their needs, would be taking up most of her duty time until lunch and deployment tomorrow.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Welcome... Home? Towards OMEGA's Omega. (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Phaia</strong> on <strong>14-06-2013, 03:10:21</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i1217.photobucket.com/albums/dd394/Vithe_rothe/Domino/raven%20queen/SummerGlau01_zps5c008d1e.jpg)</div><br><br><br><br><hr><strong>Name: 1st Lieutenant Alexandra 'Andi' Mary York<br>Nationality: USA<br>Class/Skill Set: Command/ Trooper/ Pilot<br>Tagged: Enlisted Mess Hall with B Platoon<br></strong><br><br><hr><br><hr><br><em><strong>-January 1999 near the German/Polish Border-</strong></em><br><br>Andi, as her family and close friends called her, swore under her breath as she forced "Traveller" (http://etan.org/news/2012/graphics/Apache-helicopter.jpg) around the hill and lined up so her gunner 'SFC Betty Phillips' could get off a brace of Hellfire (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/AGM-114_Hellfire) missiles into the advancing column of old Soviet T-72s. The range was a bit over 2 miles and within seconds 4 tanks were exploding and on fire. They were almost the last Hellfires the entire 3rd Mech had but the orders were to slow or stop the counter attack by the three battered Soviet Divisions so the Brigade could finish withdrawing. She and her wingman had been hunting along a series of ridges with a road on each side. From what she could tell the Category C units were not pressing the attack but one never could be sure.<br><br>She had been called up 2 years earlier just after the first tac nuke exchanges. Hurried over in a reforger mission along with National Guard Apaches, as a 2nd LT. Those first weeks were crazy, not just all the looks she got since many of the soldiers still had the 1995 Sports Illustrated Swim Suit issue she had been in but also the complete cluster-fuck she found herself in. No one had real air superiority so any ground support mission was hazardous beyond anything she had ever experienced. <br><br>Hers was one of 8 surviving craft and she had learned well the tactics of air to ground and air to air combat. Things no instructor had ever even hinted at. It was that and her natural abilities that reacted at the warbler sound of a lock. 'Traveller' shook and rattled as the engine whines as she pulled up on the stick and shoved it to the side. The Apache lifted and swayed to the left and spun on its axis as two trails of gunfire flashed past just under the 'helo'. What Andi saw made her blood chill, somehow the Soviets had found a pair of Hind 24s (http://www.wallsave.com/wallpapers/1024x768/heavy-arms/75549/heavy-arms-warship-mil-mi-hind-helicopter-gunship-picture-gallery-75549.jpg) to support this column and it had become another nail biter chopper fight. The experts had all said that Helicopter verse helicopter dogfights would never happen since Jets would hold air superiority and forbid that sort of thing. There were fewer jets left then choppers now and so it had become 'somewhat' more common then the experts predicted.<br><br>'Traveller' had 4 kill markers on the side under the cockpit but all of those had been one-on-one fights. The first was only 3 weeks after she had arrived and was all luck. The Soviet Hind24 had been happily hammering away at positions of a nearby West German unit when she got the call. It had not even seen her until Betty opened fire. The 2nd had been tougher, a swirling looping dogfight around a series of hills and a ruined village. Her ship had taken half a dozen 30mm hits and was smoking and barely flying when she got it home. Her 3rd kill was much different, she and Betty had been closing on a ground fight loaded with rockets and ammo when word came in off an incoming MiG. Naturally she had swung the ship away from the supposed flightpath and lower between some woods till they almost were touching the ground. Flashing over them from right to left barely 1000 feet up the MIG was making its attack run. Why the pilot didn't even notice them, or maybe in his arrogance he discounted a mere helicopter. Whatever the reason not a single missile of round of gunfire was aimed at them. So she yanked up the stick applied power and swirled her ship on its axis till its nose tracked the jet and Betty opened up with everything they had. 20+ Hydra 70 Rockets as well as the 30mm nose mounted cannon hammered at the MIG. It must have realized something since it was beginning a wing over when it exploded into a huge yellow and orange fireball. The 4th kill had come four days before Christmas, just a few weeks ago. Another Hind but this was a case of who shot first since they had both appeared over a ridge line at almost the same time. Lucky for her Betty was quick on the trigger.<br><br>This would be much different.<br><br><hr><br><em><strong>-Enlisted mess Hall; B troop; 3rd Platoon-</strong></em><br><br>Andi had made sure to be in the meeting area along with SFC Hart as the senior officers were setting up. Hart was a God send to her in what he had taught her. She had of course taken basic infantry but being a pilot and by law not allowed in a front line ground unit, her skill set had been lacking in many ways. She was smart and listened closely appling what she had seen from her ground support role to what the Sergeant had been teaching. For the months before the withdrawal she had been shifted from unit to unit with in the 3rd. For a short time in Staff, another short few weeks in Intell. It was as if the brass did not really know what to do with a female infantry officer and one that had her looks and charisma not to mention her family name. She had learned a few things along the way but it was SFC Hart that had taken her in to show her the real roles of a Calvary ground unit. She had already recommended the man for a field commission but had no idea if her name carried that much weight anymore.<br><br>She had found a seat at the back of the table so she could watch and observe the entire troop but before setting down she sat a bag beside SFC Hart and gave him a grin and nod. Andi had decided that the B Troop would start to set the standard and between herself and Hart they had scrounged and traded for a special item for the troop. It had taken all her gifts of communication and guile but she had finally gotten each of them a old school Cavalry trooper hat (http://www.cavhooah.com/media/catalog/product/cache/1/image/9df78eab33525d08d6e5fb8d27136e95/c/a/cavhooah_hat.jpg). As far as she knew no other troop in the entire division would have them. <br><br>The meeting started and she pulled out a small spiral notebook and a Bic pen and took some notes. As the questions began to wind down she nodded to Captian Finn, "I am not sure how useful this will be sir. Back In the summer of '95 I did a photo shoot at Fort McHenry, the point on that map across the river from the Dundalk Terminals. I remember there being a lot of cars, containers, heavy equipment and open areas and maybe a dozen warehouses the size of this ship. Lots of cranes and I would estimate a 20 foot Minimum sea wall along the river edge." Her brown eyes for a moment took on a distance look then her southern accented voice continued, "to the south along the river was a bunch of residents, several with multistories that bordered the terminal and a lot of small docks. Also the river splits the terminal area almost in half sir. It is not shown clearly on the map there but a branch goes off to the right. If the cars or containers are not there now it will be a lot of very wide open terrain with no cover. There are three Hospitals nearby sir, I visited them as part of the tour we were on."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Welcome... Home? Towards OMEGA's Omega. (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>AlexStone</strong> on <strong>14-06-2013, 16:58:06</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(http://i39.tinypic.com/2nrpv6p.jpg)</div><div align="center"><em>Enlisted Mess USS Tulare</em></div><br>Some pencils and pens scratched out notes on their maps as Lt. York pointed out those facts, and others glanced at each other. Captain Finn nodded, then added in, "Be careful, then- we don't know what the terrain will be like out there.&nbsp; There won't be many of us to start with, so don't feel like you need to search every car and cargo container- just the ones close to where you may establish any firing positions.&nbsp; There's going to be a lot of infantrymen and rear area types who will have too much time on their hands if we come into Baltimore, so don't feel like you need to cover every sort problem.&nbsp; Also, avoid big, open spaces for now.&nbsp; If there's just a big, empty parking lot, wait for a big formation to secure it."&nbsp; <br><br>He looked around. "There aren't that many of us- don't do the job that a company of infantrymen should do, but don't feel like you need to run and hide, either.&nbsp; It's the Cav, so use your initiative."<br><br>*****************************<br><div class="floatleft">(http://i43.tinypic.com/19laio.jpg)</div><div align="center"><em>Boat Deck, USS Tulare</em><br><strong>Tagged: </strong> PFC Choi, anyone else who wants to come along</div><br>The ship's boat deck- usually a quiet area on <em>Tulare's</em> topside, a place you could get away from the ship's activity underway, is currently a bustle of work.&nbsp; It takes some asking around before Choi found the boats assigned to the Platoon.&nbsp; There were three sailors already hard at work on making sure everything would be ready for tomorrow afternoon- Boatswain's Mate, 2nd Class Johansen seemed to be in charge of the team, and spent most of his time looking over the hull and other gear on board the boats.&nbsp; Fireman Martins was shoulders deep in an engine well, digging around and cranking tools on various bolts and other fixtures.&nbsp; The last, Seaman Apprentice Rosenberg, was "Striking" for a Boatswain's rating- that is, he wanted to have Johansen's job in the future, and so had volunteered to get some experience in the job.&nbsp; <br><br>"Always glad to have some help, you know," Johansen said.&nbsp; "Know much about small boats, or seamanship?&nbsp; What do you do over in the Army?"<br><br>Choi lifted her chin a bit, not wanting some swabbie to give her the business. "I'm one of the driver/mechanics for the team, actually."&nbsp; <br><br>The Boatswain's Mate grinned a bit and nodded. "Why don't you relieve Rosenberg and help out Martins?&nbsp; Our engines are a little different, but still mostly the same.&nbsp; Rosenberg can lend me a hand."<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Welcome... Home? Towards OMEGA's Omega. (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Phaia</strong> on <strong>15-06-2013, 00:11:15</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i1217.photobucket.com/albums/dd394/Vithe_rothe/Domino/raven%20queen/SummerGlau01_zps5c008d1e.jpg)</div><br><br><br><br><hr><strong>Name: 1st Lieutenant Alexandra 'Andi' Mary York<br>Nationality: USA<br>Class/Skill Set: Command/ Trooper/ Pilot<br>Tagged: Enlisted Mess Hall with B Platoon<br></strong><br><br><hr><br>"So Captain, which sector of the terminal is 3rd Platoon's. From what you are saying this is a quick in and out recon to determine if the area is safe for larger ops." She stands and nods to Hart, "Sergeant Hart you will handle second team. Take Huerta, Piper, Stover and Commenia. We need to get Afridi use to the US and working with the teams. If you think she can handle it, take her.<br>Your Team will be support make sure each of you have a LAW since we wont have any real fire support. 6 Grenades and 2 smoke for each in both teams. I would rather we loaded for bear so lets go with 6 extra clips per trooper and your team carry an ammo bag. Your section will handle the landing area and in case we have to beat feet lay down support fire. Hart Pull everything from Brigade stores for this recon."<br><br>"Sergeant Lee you will be team second, your demo right? Bring a small kit just in case...Corporal Clark bring your sniper rifle we may need it. One last thing ... Sergeant Hart pass out the Hats"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Welcome... Home? Towards OMEGA's Omega. (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>vin26m</strong> on <strong>15-06-2013, 15:17:53</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/9/94/126px-TunnelRatROCFilecard.jpg)</div> <br><br>&nbsp;<strong>Name:</strong>&nbsp; Sergeant Nicky Lee<br>&nbsp;<strong>Nationality:</strong>&nbsp; American<br>&nbsp;<strong>Class/Skill Set:</strong> Combat Engineer<br>&nbsp;<strong>Location:</strong>&nbsp; Mess Hall<br>&nbsp;<strong>Tagged:</strong>&nbsp; Godly, Johnson, Choi, Clark, York, open<br><br><hr><br><em>"...If you do encounter other people, then obviously, act as you see fit to protect yourselves and complete the mission- but keep in mind, this is Baltimore, not Warsaw.&nbsp; In theory, the people there should be on our team."</em><br><br><strong>"Understood, Captain.&nbsp; So, rules of engagement are basically to use force to defend ourselves against attacks or threats of attack, and return hostile fire to stop a hostile act.&nbsp; For unarmed elements, use the mininum force necessary under the circumstances and proportional to the threat.&nbsp; And detention of civilians is authorized for security reasons or in self-defense.&nbsp; Otherwise, treat all persons with dignity and respect.&nbsp; Does that cover it, sir?"</strong><br><br>Godly, the medic, was asking about casevac.&nbsp; It was something Sergeant Lee preferred not to think about, but he stored the information that Captain Finn offered anyway.<br><br>Johnson, an infantryman, asked about mounting a weapon on the whaleboat.<br><br>Clark and Choi were kind of quiet.&nbsp; Clark was usually kind of quiet but Choi's quiet usually had to do with the fact that she was working on the Humvees.&nbsp; He would take her aside for a moment later on.<br><br>Lt. York, the commanding officer, made some points about the area.&nbsp; He had already been imagining the gorgeous chopper pilot wearing less than what she was currently wearing, but when she mentioned a photo shoot now he was thinking about her in a swimsuit, helmet and flak vest near the shore.&nbsp; He took a slow deep breath in through his nose, as if he could pull in her scent, then exhaled equally slowly, subtly, again through his nose, in a concealed sigh.<br><br><em>"Sergeant Lee you will be team second, you're demo right? Bring a small kit just in case..."</em><br><br><strong>"Yes, Lieutenant, looks like I'll be working under you.&nbsp; I do lots of things, ma'am, but working with demo is at the top of the list."</strong><br><br><em>"Sergeant Hart pass out the Hats."</em><br><br>Lee raised an eyebrow, then smiled at the pile of Stetsons brought in.&nbsp; Lee, being the section sergeant and second in the chain of command, decided to set an example and took one first.&nbsp; He put it on his head and nodded.<br><br><strong>"What do you think, Lieutenant.&nbsp; Is it me?&nbsp; These are just for dress uniforms, right?&nbsp; Any chance we'll be able to earn a set of spurs to go along with this?"</strong><br><br>Lee took off the hat and respectfully set it down.&nbsp; While it was a fine looking hat, it wasn't meant to be worn in combat.<br><br>It looked like everyone was going to go separate ways, so Lee decided to keep them around a bit for some introductions.<br><br><strong>"Alright, everyone, listen up.&nbsp; Welcome to First Section, 3rd Platoon, B Troop.&nbsp; I'm Sergeant Lee.&nbsp; If you need anything let me know.&nbsp; Our commanding officer is Lieutenant York here.&nbsp; I know Corporal Clark of the Canadian army - he's our marksman.&nbsp; And I know PFC Choi here, who is our mechanic.&nbsp; I haven't had the pleasure to meet Corporal Godly, our medic, and Specialist Johnson, our grenadier.&nbsp; Johnson, I'll take care of the tripod request.&nbsp; Meet us up top so we can mount it on the boat.&nbsp; Anyone have questions or comments, I'll be around.&nbsp; Otherwise, get ready for the recon op.&nbsp; Lieutenant, a word."</strong><br><br>Lee waited until he and York were out of earshot of the rest of the section.<br><br><strong>"I have concerns about Choi..."</strong>&nbsp; Lee paused a moment, considering how to address her.&nbsp; <strong>"... ma'am.&nbsp; She's young and she's seen combat, but I'm not sure she'll be able to keep it together when the bullets start flying.&nbsp; We can either leave her in the whaleboat or have her stick with me.&nbsp; If she's with me, I'll bring the SAW and she can be my assistant gunner and hump some ammo.&nbsp; What are your orders... ma'am?"</strong><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Welcome... Home? Towards OMEGA's Omega. (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>NiceTexasGuy</strong> on <strong>15-06-2013, 19:04:35</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				(http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/7/7e/American_soldier_in_Vietnam.jpg)<br><br><strong>Name:</strong>&nbsp; Randy James "R.J." Johnson<br><br><strong>Location:</strong>&nbsp; Enlisted Mess - <em>USS Tulare</em> - stocking up on breakfast leftovers<br><br><br>*************<br><br>R.J. wanted to laugh when he saw the hats being passed out, but he refrained.&nbsp; <em>Seriously?&nbsp; Cowboy hats?&nbsp; I could use couple of pair of boots that fit my feet, and socks that don't have holes, but yeah, cowboy hat, thanks a lot.</em>&nbsp; This is about what he'd come to expect from pretty little female officers who -- well, this one was obviously pretty enough to be some general's aide -- so how did she get command of an infantry platoon?&nbsp; By saying "pretty please" to the general no doubt.&nbsp; And her ROTC training probably taught her that something like this would inspire the troops and make them feel elite.<br><br>He thought back to <em>A Bridge Too Far</em> (required viewing for Airborne troopers) and the scene where the British Para guy braves enemy fire to retrieve some supplies that were dropped outside their perimeter, only to be shot dead just before returning to safety.&nbsp; And what did they find out was in the container?&nbsp; Red berets.&nbsp; Hats.&nbsp; He hoped this wasn't some kind of omen.<br><br>Now, instead of suppressing a laugh, he was staring at his new hat with a look of concern.&nbsp; That's when he heard his name.<br><br><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=175864.msg8402956#msg8402956">Quote from: vin26m on 15-06-2013, 15:17:53</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote"> Johnson, I'll take care of the tripod request.&nbsp; Meet us up top so we can mount it on the boat.&nbsp; Anyone have questions or comments, I'll be around.&nbsp; Otherwise, get ready for the recon op.&nbsp; <br></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br><strong>"Ah, uh, <em>right Sergeant</em>."</strong>&nbsp; R.J. wasn't one for hero worship - he figured he'd seen combat as bad as any and had performed just as well -- but it was a relief to see a Ranger tab on Lee's uniform.&nbsp; It meant the guy knew what he was doing.&nbsp; <strong>"<em>Airborne</em>"</strong> he added, getting up from the table and heading to .... where?&nbsp; He didn't want to wear the stupid hat, and he didn't have room for it in the baggage he kept locked up in his berthing compartment.&nbsp; To leave it out would invite theft.&nbsp; To lose his hat on Day 1 would not endear him to anyone in his chain of command.&nbsp; He figured Sgt Lee felt the same way about the hats, but his position would require him to deal harshly with the first trooper to lose it.&nbsp; <em>Yep, they were Stateside again</em>.<br><br>He donned the Cavalry hat and headed topside to try to figure out which whaleboat the .50 would be mounted on.&nbsp; <em>If you can't get out of it, you might as well get into it.</em>&nbsp; He'd keep his eyes out for some gold (yellow) cloth he could use to make a bandanna.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Welcome... Home? Towards OMEGA's Omega. (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>vin26m</strong> on <strong>15-06-2013, 22:13:56</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/9/94/126px-TunnelRatROCFilecard.jpg)</div> <br><br>&nbsp;<strong>Name:</strong>&nbsp; Sergeant Nicky Lee<br>&nbsp;<strong>Nationality:</strong>&nbsp; American<br>&nbsp;<strong>Class/Skill Set:</strong> Combat Engineer<br>&nbsp;<strong>Location:</strong>&nbsp; Mess Hall, then the Boat Deck<br>&nbsp;<strong>Tagged:</strong>&nbsp; Johnson, York, Choi<br><br><hr><br><em>"Ah, uh, right Sergeant...&nbsp; <strong>Airborne</strong>."</em><br><br>In the mess hall, Sergeant Lee looked at Johnson, then nodded while one corner of his mouth curled up in a half-smile.&nbsp; <br><br>It seemed that Specialist Johnson graduated from Jump School, more formally known as the United States Army Airborne School.&nbsp; "Sergeant Airborne" was what paratrooper students called the instructors, commonly referred to as "Black Hats" due to the distinguishing black baseball caps they wore.&nbsp; There was lots of "Yes, Sergeant Airborne" and "No, Sergeant Airborne."&nbsp; Along with some jumping, falling and landing.<br><br><strong>"Spent a lot of time in Fort Benning, myself, Johnson.&nbsp; Kind of wish I could jump out of a perfectly good airplane again.&nbsp; Too bad there's no fuel for them."</strong><br><br>Lee spoke to York about Choi, then headed from the mess hall to the boat deck with Choi and Johnson.&nbsp; <br><br>The M2 and the tripod were waiting for them.&nbsp; Lee started setting it up on the boat with the help of the Navy guys.<br><br><strong>"Johnson, you have a lot of experience with the .50?&nbsp; I have a feeling you might be better at shootin' this than I can."</strong><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Welcome... Home? Towards OMEGA's Omega. (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>AlexStone</strong> on <strong>16-06-2013, 04:57:56</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(http://i43.tinypic.com/6t0ili.jpg)</div> <em>Up on the boat deck, with Choi, Lee, Johnson, the Navy, and now Klaus Piper</em><br><br>"Oh?&nbsp; Are you gentlemen planning on monopoly... monopolizing all of the time with this big thing?" The German popped up the side of the boat, and vaulted easily inside as the two guys from First Section began wresting the .50 into place into the boat.&nbsp; "After all, you are not the only ones who know a thing or two about machine-gunnery."&nbsp; Piper reached down one oversized paw, wrapping it around one leg of the tripod, and the whole thing felt 50 pounds lighter as he helped them get it situated in the bow of the largest of the boats assigned to the platoon. "I will confess, I would not want to make too much of use of this gun, as lovely as it is, for fear my usual playmate would think of me as.. faithless?&nbsp; Unfaithful?&nbsp; I think I'm getting close to the right words."&nbsp; His accent wasn't too thick, when you got down to it, as if he had at least started speaking English earlier rather than later in his life.&nbsp; <br><br>As they worked, Piper whistled a few bars from a song, then stopped for a moment as the Navy guys took some measurements to see if the gun was centered.&nbsp; "Tell me, <em>mien Unteroffizier</em> Lee, and you, too, Johnson- you ask in the briefing if you think Captain Finn expects trouble- bandits, militia, this kind of thing.&nbsp; Do you think we will have trouble?&nbsp; Will they give us a fight at the docks?"&nbsp; He seemed both curious, and perhaps a little hopeful. "I know nothing about what conditions could even be like in the US now, but perhaps you will have a better idea."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Welcome... Home? Towards OMEGA's Omega. (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>16-06-2013, 11:45:07</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i1240.photobucket.com/albums/gg481/indytims/liam1_zps538bd928.jpg)</div> <br><br>&nbsp;<strong>Name:</strong>&nbsp; Cpl. Alex Clark<br>&nbsp;<strong>Nationality:</strong>&nbsp; Canadian<br>&nbsp;<strong>Class/Skill Set:</strong> Designated Marksman/Sniper<br>&nbsp;<strong>Location:</strong>&nbsp; Mess Hall<br>&nbsp;<strong>Tagged:</strong>&nbsp; open<br><br>Alex listened to everything that was said about him, picking up on various details as his head turned to regard each speaker. Lee spoke up - as he often did - with the usual candor and confidence that came with his position and experience. Alex, of course, was just the 'dumb cannuck', so he kept his trap shut and listened. That was one of the things he did best, anyway.<br><br>Then he turned his head to regard Lt. York and he had to struggle to keep his mouth from hanging open. A goddess in uniform if he had ever seen one, he glanced around quickly to see if anyone else was as struck by her appearance as he was. Her accent only added to her allure, at least to the cold-blooded Canadian who wasn't used to hearing such an accent anywhere near his home. Since no one else had their mouths hanging open like a whale-shark swimming for plankton, Alex presumed that it was just him and regathered his senses just in time to hear her call out his name.<br><br><em>"Corporal Clark bring your sniper rifle we may need it..."</em><br><br>"Yes ma'am," he smartly responded. Hell, she could have told him to bring the entire ship, and he would have done his best to do so. She looked so -familiar-, too, but at the moment he couldn't place it. Maybe he had simply seen her earlier on the ship somewhere?<br><br>Then, the hats were passed out - and once against Alex was dumfounded, but in a much different way. <br><br>Were these people -serious-? Did they think that this group of people was in some sort of bad American Western movie? The yellow braid alone would stand out like some sort of beacon to any opposing snipers, providing a nice, clean, bright target for them to aim at - a target which rested upon the skulls of those wearing them. But Alex simply nodded his silent thanks as he took the hat offered to him, and held it in his hands respectfully, eager to see what Lee thought of it.<br><br>Lee set his hat down and began a round of introductions. They had a medic now, Corporal Godly, which was a relief and a nice reassurance. They also had a grenadier, Specialist Johnson. Once Lee was done, he expressed his wish to speak with the LT alone, and the rest of them were dismissed. Alex nodded to any of them that glanced his way as he eventually turned and made his way from the Mess Hall, intent on collecting up his gear and preparing for their departure, as well as going to requisition any gear that he was instructed to bring.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Welcome... Home? Towards OMEGA's Omega. (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>AlexStone</strong> on <strong>18-06-2013, 04:43:13</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div align="center">(http://baltimorechromiumresiduecleanup.com/_resources/images/photos/2011_terminal.jpg)<br><em>Dundalk Marine Terminal, before the world blew up.</em></div><br>If Sparrow's Point, at the entrance to Baltimore's harbor, was anything to go by, this would be a very, very short mission.&nbsp; The Hand of God itself had come down on the spot marked "Old Road Bay" on the Chief's charts, and turned the shipyard at Sparrow's point into a heap of twisted steel and concrete.&nbsp; The cranes stuck out of the water at odd angles, and their bases seemed as much melted as snapped.&nbsp; Lying at the dock was a smallish freighter on her side, collapsed nearly onto itself with rust- not a bit of paint could anyone see on the hull, it seemed to have been all burned off.&nbsp; On the other side of the bay, what was once a forest was now twisted into a scorched abatis, and there was supposed to be a town somewhere in between the two.&nbsp; There wasn't.&nbsp; <br><br>The parade of boats- some Navy, some stolen from abandoned marinas nearby- had made its way up the Chesapeake from the Bay Bridge.&nbsp; Someone would see if the Bridge could support traffic, but that wasn't going to be B Troop's job.&nbsp; As they waited for the sun to go down, they got the first bit of news- C Troop didn't even have to get close to Annapolis- no stone was laying on top of another at the Naval Academy or in town.&nbsp; Someone had put a bucket of instant sunshine right atop Bancroft Hall, the massive dormitory, and then put another one right across the mouth of the Severn River, as if to prove a fucking point. (That point: They were assholes.)&nbsp; The crater was still a little hot, even.&nbsp; Not enough that you'd notice it from the sea, but you wouldn't want to camp there.&nbsp; <br><br><div class="floatleft">(http://i43.tinypic.com/19laio.jpg)</div><br>It was a cloudless night, and the moon, half full, stood brightly out in the night sky.&nbsp; Without clouds or the sun, the temperature began to fall rapidly once total darkness overcame them- the Navy guys huddled into their woolen peacoats, particularly as the breeze picked up.&nbsp; At 0130 AM, the navy Lieutenant in charge of this whole screwup passed the order, and they proceeded in a column- "line astern" according to Chief Bivona, who was in overall command of the Platoon's water transport- towards Fort Carrol, the stopper to the harbor's bottle.&nbsp; Once there, the formation broke up, everyone to their own destinations.&nbsp; Chief Bivona kept his boats moving slowly cautiously in the dark.&nbsp; As they passed under the Francis Scott Key Bridge, they could hear it creak slightly as the wind blew, and the bridge's bulk blocked out the moon for a bit. That said, it had not collapsed, which was the first good news they had gotten.<br><br>About 10 minutes later, they were close enough to start making out Dundalk's port by their night vision scopes.&nbsp; Shockingly, the place was not a radioactive cinder.<br><br>It was actually fairly well preserved.&nbsp; As the boats made a slow procession around the perimeter of the dock, it was pretty clear that Dundalk was mostly intact- one of the cranes had collapsed, but the rest were still there.&nbsp; Three ships had been docked and abandoned.&nbsp; One now lay partially capsized, leaning against the sea wall.&nbsp; One had settled into the water, about halfway down before she hit the floor of the bay.&nbsp; The third had, at some point, slipped her bow moorings, and now jutted out into the harbor like a tooth smashed out of place.&nbsp; Too much more detail couldn't be found in the greenscale images generated by their NVGs- the ships might be rotting, rusting hulks, but that would have to wait for daytime.&nbsp; <br><br>Once they reached the mouth of the canal that separated the Mid Atlantic Terminal from Seagirt, the Chief brought the wheel back over, and sailed towards the harbor before turning back towards the southern of the two terminals.&nbsp; He didn't want to go probing too far up the canal at night, and Seagirt was more disorganized, from what they could see, and the approaches more likely to be fouled- or maybe the Chief was losing his nerve, piloting in the dark on an open boat in a strange harbor that should have been wiped from the face of the earth.&nbsp; <br><br>The most obvious place to go in was on the southeast side of the terminal, as far away from the ships as possible, near the big parking lot.&nbsp; The three boats approached in formation, working forward slowly.&nbsp; They closed with the tall seawall that formed the boundary between the sea and the United States of America.&nbsp; Boatswain's Mate Johansen was the first one back in the US, as each boat boosted a sailor up onto the wall, and each one carried a rope ladder with them, which they tied to cleats on the dock and dropped down to the boat deck.&nbsp; Several unsteady steps later, 3rd Platoon was ashore, and Chief Bivona cut the engines on the boats.&nbsp; <br><br>Without the rumble of the engines, it was very, very calm, and very very eerie.&nbsp; A dock like this should be well lit, and busy, even at night.&nbsp; The whole shoreline should be awash in yellow sodium light, but it wasn't.&nbsp; Just a few sounds- the water lapping against the dock.&nbsp; The slight woosh of the wind.&nbsp; The distant clanking of a unsecured crane hook banging against something in the distance.<br><br>The shuffling, then running footsteps from the stack of shipping containers 50 yards to the north.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Welcome... Home? Towards OMEGA's Omega. (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>mayovagn</strong> on <strong>18-06-2013, 05:24:16</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				(http://daamanagement.co.uk/images_client/main/249_Josette_Simon-Square.jpg)<br><strong>Jen Godly "V"<br>Sitting on the dock of the bay, watching the tide go away.<br>Curious what the running noise might be.<br></strong><br><br>Boats did not like Jen. This was fine, she didn't like boats. They felt like flighty and unpredictable things that could, at any moment, decide firmly and resolutely against you and cause a drowning. This was not a desired outcome in a method of transport and it should not be tolerated. There was some to-ing and fro-ing and a lot of what could only really be accurately described as 'buggering about', yet what the septics seemed to refer to as 'hurry up and wait' which didn't have nearly the right amount of frustration in the phrase to adequately convey how you felt to be in that situation. There was a fair bit of bouncing around on water and pootling about from place to place and some spookyness involving heading towards a spit of land you knew was there and were aware that those in control of things could see, yet you yourself were totally oblivious to due to reasons.<br><br>Then they were arriving and quietly climbing up onto the dock. It was going rather well, which meant of course it was all about to decend into a horrible cluster fuck. The noises of people moving about nearby were no real surprise, this was it, this is where it all went horribly wrong and they all wound up as kebabs for the local starving population of mutated frog people. Who was it who had 'eaten by mutated frog people' in the 'What nasty thing will happen when we land pool' again? Wasn't it that attractive squaddie from first platoon? Ah, what did it matter now? It was both a good and a bad thing that the sounds of shuffling were not coming from Jen's arc of cover. When they had arrived they had, of course, all taken up their designated cover arc and settled in. The sounds were coming from behind, Jen was facing the wrong direction. The shuffling became running and well, that wasn't the best news. Still, it was someone else's issue and that was all well and good because frankly Jen didn't want to shoot anyone anyway.<br><br>She had almost managed to not shoot anyone up till now. She had a wonderfully low count on actually having to fire a weapon in anger and she was intending to stick to it if she could. Not that she couldn't shoot, she was okay at that at least, oh no, she just would far rather preserve life than take it away.<br><br>That running sound was really quite worrying, make more annoying by the way she couldn't turn to see what it was, she had to keep to her own arc...
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Welcome... Home? Towards OMEGA's Omega. (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Phaia</strong> on <strong>20-06-2013, 06:51:07</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i1217.photobucket.com/albums/dd394/Vithe_rothe/Domino/raven%20queen/SummerGlau01_zps5c008d1e.jpg)</div><br><br><br><br><hr><strong>Name: 1st Lieutenant Alexandra 'Andi' Mary York<br>Nationality: USA<br>Class/Skill Set: Command/ Trooper/ Pilot<br>Tagged: Enlisted Mess Hall with B Platoon<br></strong><br><br><hr><br>**Before the Mission**<br><br>Andi had listened to Hart and Lee, having learned hard lessons on keeping her mouth shut until she needed to speak. Both Sergeants had a good handle on things and she was fully able to Trust, for now at least, Lee's assessment on Choi and his suggestion. <br><br>As she readied the team and sensed some misgivings in members about the hats she made it clear they were for dress and undress but not for field, there she expected everyone to wear a helmet to start. As planning went along she sent up 3 teams from her section. <br><br>"okay when we hit the LZ both sections will fan out to recon the immediate area. Sergeant Hart with his Section will establish a Perimeter at the LZ in case we have to with draw. I want everyone in groups of 2, Lee and Choi with the SAW, Clark and Johnson, Myself and the 'Doc'. Do Not go anyplace without your backup and everyone keep with in visual if at all possible. Hart will handle comm back to the boats. We are here to scout and see what is left people. Not to go all trigger happy and shoot up the locals. Get some rest if ya need anything see me or Sergeant Hart."<br><br>[loads out include extra concussion grenades and energy bars for trade]<br><br>**mission**<br><br>Andi did not mind the boat ride she was after all a pilot and if anyone thought the small rocking of the boat was rough they had never flown in air filled with tracer rounds and missiles. She was outwardly calm but inside feeling tense since this was in fact her first real combat ground mission. Only Hart knew the full score and had been working closely with her the past weeks filling in the gaps in her skill sets. Her eyes scanned the dock area and narrowed as they checked the rad readings... So far everything looked good.<br><br>She was first out of the boat and over the edge and up onto the dock, her rifle up and covering her area with a slow back and forth waiting till she could hear all clear from everyone else. The night was clear and the area dim as sounds played out, the gentle lapping of the waves. The distent sounds of the boats of the other groups and then the sudden sounds of running feet. Her hand went up for quiet then a quick motion to spread out and stay low. For down she would keep talking to a minimum.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Welcome... Home? Towards OMEGA's Omega. (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>21-06-2013, 17:52:30</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i1240.photobucket.com/albums/gg481/indytims/liam1_zps538bd928.jpg)</div> <br><br>&nbsp;<strong>Name:</strong>&nbsp; Cpl. Alex Clark<br>&nbsp;<strong>Nationality:</strong>&nbsp; Canadian<br>&nbsp;<strong>Class/Skill Set:</strong> Designated Marksman/Sniper<br>&nbsp;<strong>Location:</strong>&nbsp; Mess Hall<br>&nbsp;<strong>Tagged:</strong>&nbsp; open<br><br>Lieutenant York explained that the hats were not for use in the field, and Clark resisted letting out a big sigh of relief. He knew Americans were often bold and brazen, but even this would have been a bit beyond that. She expected helmets, though, which were almost as bad to Clark, but definitely preferably over the alternative as he glanced down at the cavalry hat in his hands.<br><br>His head snapped up when she began to outline the plan, and he noted that he was partnered with Johnson, glancing over at the man for a moment and giving him a slight nod before returning his eyes to the lieutenant as she explained their objectives.<br><br>*&nbsp; * * *<br><br>Eventually, it was go time. Clark arrived when and where he was expected, dressed for the occasion. He saw that everyone else was, as well, and the sight of all the people involved in the landing gave him comfort - as if he could almost imagine the world hadn't changed much. But it had, and being surrounded by a gaggle of yanks was the most poignant reminder of that he could imagine.<br><br>Soon, they were in the boat and the operation was underway. The short trip felt like it had taken a small eternity. Being on the small craft on the open water was about as vulnerable as they'd get. No cover, no place to hide, gear weighing you down so a fall into the black, murky water raised the chances of drowning considerably. If an enemy attack was going to happen, this is when it would take place - IF the enemy saw them coming.<br><br>Clark let out a breath as they reached the dock safe and sound, though, and dismounted from the boat and back onto land - finally - when it was his turn to move.<br><br>The Canadian kept Johnson off to this side, within his side field of vision. Suddenly the lieutenant's hand gesture put the group on even higher alert - the sound of running feet, perhaps fifty to sixty yards ahead, grabbed his attention as he took cover as best he could, staying low, weapon leveled in the direction the sounds came from. Perhaps they were scavengers. Perhaps they were drifters and salvagers. Whoever they were, they weren't members of their troop so they were unknowns, and as Clark had learned in the recent past, unknowns had a way of ruining your day pretty quickly.<br><br>Afterall, what would a 'welcome home party' be like... without the party?<br><br>-ark 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Welcome... Home? Towards OMEGA's Omega. (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>vin26m</strong> on <strong>22-06-2013, 12:05:28</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/9/94/126px-TunnelRatROCFilecard.jpg)</div> <br><br>&nbsp;<strong>Name:</strong>&nbsp; Sergeant Nicky Lee<br>&nbsp;<strong>Nationality:</strong>&nbsp; American<br>&nbsp;<strong>Class/Skill Set:</strong> Combat Engineer<br>&nbsp;<strong>Location:</strong>&nbsp; The boat deck, then the dock<br>&nbsp;<strong>Tagged:</strong>&nbsp; York, Choi, Godly, Clark, Johnson<br><br><hr><br>Sergeant Lee appreciated Lieutnenant York's acceptance of his input about Choi.&nbsp; It gave Lee someone to lug around some ammo and it gave Choi a chance to stay close to a veteran and stay alive.<br><br>But there were other things he appreciated about York.&nbsp; When the boat was against the dock and the rope ladder was dropped onto the boat deck, Lee was about to have Clark, their sniper, or Johnson, their infantryman, take the point.&nbsp; Usually, officers stayed in the rear, but instead, Lee almost got a face full of the Lieutenant's bottom as she went up the rope ladder first.<br><br>Still, Lee would have preferred to have one of the other grunts go first, partly because they probably would have been better experienced for spearheading their section, but also because York was the leader.&nbsp; If she got hit, that would hurt team morale.&nbsp; Having an officer get wounded or killed was bad enough, but having a female get hurt or dead was worse, and more so a gorgeous one.<br><br>But there was nothing he could do about it now, except admire the silhouette of her shapely bottom as she climbed the rope ladder.<br><br>At the top, Lee found some cover and scanned the area while the rest of the section got into position.&nbsp; He was looking and listening for enemies, but he tried to make out the structures in the area - what could be used as shelter or cover, where traps or mines could go, what might be good to blow up, and where there was potential for scrounging up useful gear or materials.<br><br>When Choi got up, he pointed at her and gave her a visual hand signal.&nbsp; <em>Come to me.</em><br><br>When others joined, he gave them another signal.&nbsp; <em>Take cover.</em><br><br>Then there were the footsteps.&nbsp; Whoever it was, they were not attempting to conceal their movement.&nbsp; They were taken by surprise, or baiting them closer to some kind of trap.&nbsp; Still, it had to be investigated.<br><br>More signals.&nbsp; To York and Godly.&nbsp; <em>Stay here.&nbsp; Cover my movement.</em>&nbsp; Lee didn't want their leader and their medic getting exposed unnecessarily.<br><br>To Clark and Johnson.&nbsp; <em>Go around and flank.</em>&nbsp; They had the stealth, awareness and trigger discipline to move quietly and engage only when necessary.<br><br>To Choi.&nbsp; <em>Follow me.&nbsp; Watch my back.</em>&nbsp; If she were with Lee, he can keep her cool if a firefight started.<br><br>Slowly, using shadows for concealment and anything else for cover, he started approaching the source of the footsteps.<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Welcome... Home? Towards OMEGA's Omega. (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Neysha</strong> on <strong>23-06-2013, 02:34:35</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<br><div class="floatleft">(http://rebzombie.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/05/the-front-line-Kim-Ok-Bin.jpg)</div><strong>Name: Sukhee Choi<br>Nationality:&nbsp; American<br>Class/Skill Set: Mechanic<br>Location:&nbsp; Motor Pool<br></strong><br><br>Private Choi was understandably nervous about her whale boat approaching the murky shore, and was beginning to wonder if Sergeant Lee had actually talked to the Lieutenant about her, though she was unsure and even if he did, she found herself not caring too much. It wasn't like there was much she could do to change her fate now. Or even wanted to. Despite having seen plenty of combat in Europe, the truth was she didn't spend much time firing any shots in anger but rather spent most of it hiding, relaying messages, digging in, fidgeting with equipment, humping ammunition or firing in the same general direction as anyone else as opposed to anyone in particular. She didn't think she was adverse to killing, she just felt others were better qualified. <br><br>As the whaleboat made landfall so to speak on the pier, she had received her orders from the Sergeant and hauling a pair of extra boxes of SAW ammo on her already trim kit and loadout, she followed the Sergeant towards the containers, following several paces behind him as he stalked his way towards the voices. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Welcome... Home? Towards OMEGA's Omega. (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>AlexStone</strong> on <strong>24-06-2013, 01:37:11</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div align="center">(http://i44.tinypic.com/juwjh2.jpg)<br><strong>In the Stacks of Shipping containers<br>Lee and Choi (And Johnson and Clark, potentially)</strong></div><br>The shipping containers lay stacked three and four high around Lee and Choi as they moved towards the sound in the stacks.&nbsp; It was impossible, under the circumstances, to see what color the containers were- everything looked flat and various shades of green in their night vision's gaze.&nbsp; The stacks seemed to run for a long way down- certainly without the assistance of image intensifiers, there would be no way to see the end, and even with them, they seemed to stretch off to a hazy distance.&nbsp; Every few containers, whoever had stacked them, back when people had the ability to move these things, had left enough of a gap to walk between the tall stacks that formed the long, straight <del>shooting galleries</del> alleyways between long rows and tall stacks of steel containers.<br><br>Despite their best efforts, it was impossible to keep totally silent.&nbsp; Ammo rattled in belts and cans, boots dragged across the concrete and asphalt that covered the ground under them.&nbsp; The whole thing was amplified by the cavern they moved through, corrugated steel bouncing and arching soundwaves up and down the way, and the fact that it was a still night- little wind, cool air, little humidity.&nbsp; Of course, the person- it was clearly one person, it seemed- didn't cover his tracks well, running and stopping quickly, as if ducking between the gaps, or stopping randomly to look around.&nbsp; The sound seemed to come from several directions, echoing around- though, Choi seemed to have a good handle on where it came from.&nbsp; Tracking the sound across the rows proved a little time consuming for those involved, given the caution with which they worked.&nbsp; <br><br>As they moved around a corner between two clusters of stacks, they walked right around into something rather unexpected.&nbsp; The door on the shipping container had come off at some point, and turned it into a large, perfectly formed, rectangular cave.&nbsp; The stench inside was impressive- rotting food and meat, an overflowing toilet and flop sweat washed right out of it.&nbsp; But, that quickly proved an afterthought.<br><br>There was a woman in the doorway.<br><br>She has a revolver in one hand, clutching something tightly to her body with another.&nbsp; She turned into a duelist's pose, pistol in the hand facing the pair, the bundle in her other hand away from them, shrouded in darkness.&nbsp; The gun wasn't up.&nbsp; Yet.&nbsp; <br><br>"<em>You can't have my baby!</em>" she shrieked.<br><br>********************************************************************************<br><br><div align="center">(http://i39.tinypic.com/o8cgax.jpg)<br>Back at the dock<br>Everyone Not in the Stacks<br></div><br>Out on the docks, things were.. evolving.&nbsp; <br><br>"Dammit!&nbsp; Get that rope around the barrel and the action, so we can get it up here!"&nbsp; Sergeant Hart wasn't yelling- that wouldn't be too stealthy.&nbsp; But, his voice was still forceful as he directed the crew down in the boat, and it carried a bit down the waterfront.&nbsp; Luckily, there didn't seem to be anyone else out there to really give up the game to.&nbsp; The guys in the boat seemed to get the job done, and Hart, Huerta and Commenia, along with one of the Navy guys, started to heave on the line, with Hart directing when to heave to pull the big .50 cal out of the boat and the tall dock.&nbsp; "Keep it coming!" He urged.<br><br>Perhaps a hundred yards off the water sat a long, low building.&nbsp; It was hard to make out too much detail, other than no one had opened fire on them from it.&nbsp; Hart had sent Stover and Piper forward to provide security for the team as they worked to get supplies out of the boat, watching the building, in case someone inside was really patient, or if someone came down the road between it and the dock.&nbsp; The two seemed to be assembling some sort of hasty position out of debris nearby.<br><br>"Alright, Lieutenant- we've got the boat's radio tied into the troop net, and it'll repeat back to your platoon's tactical net.&nbsp; Everyone should be able to listen in to the Troop now, but if you want us to switch frequencies to Squadron or something else, you'll have to give us a call.&nbsp; We'll monitor 1460, if you want us to dial another frequency into the repeater.&nbsp; When do you want to start to offload, Ma'am, or do you want us to keep your stuff in the boat for now?"<br><br>That's when the shriek from the stacks cut through the night at the docks, mostly a unintelligible mess between the stacks and distance.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Welcome... Home? Towards OMEGA's Omega. (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>vin26m</strong> on <strong>24-06-2013, 02:15:59</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/9/94/126px-TunnelRatROCFilecard.jpg)</div> <br><br>&nbsp;<strong>Name:</strong>&nbsp; Sergeant Nicky Lee<br>&nbsp;<strong>Nationality:</strong>&nbsp; American<br>&nbsp;<strong>Class/Skill Set:</strong> Combat Engineer<br>&nbsp;<strong>Location:</strong>&nbsp; In the stacks of shipping containers<br>&nbsp;<strong>Tagged:</strong>&nbsp; Choi, Clark, Johnson<br><br><hr><br>Sergeant Lee immediately nudged Choi back around the corner.&nbsp; He let go of his SAW, letting it hang from under his arm, and pulled out a pistol and a concussion grenade.<br><br>He pointed away from the woman.&nbsp; <em>Watch my back, Choi.</em><br><br>Lee peeked around the corner.&nbsp; <strong>"Lady, I don't want your baby."</strong>&nbsp; <br><br>He released the safety of his M9 9mm pistol.&nbsp; <strong>"I don't want anything.&nbsp; Except for you to put that gun down."</strong><br><br>He looked around, hoping Clark and Johnson would be able to come around to flank this woman.&nbsp; <strong>"What do you want?&nbsp; What does... your baby want?"</strong><br><br>Her posture was defensive, maybe she could be talked down.&nbsp; Or at least he could stall her until the other half of his fire team showed.&nbsp; He didn't want to drop her, but he would if he had to.<br><br>He tried to stall her more, to get a feel for her.&nbsp; <strong>"How about some food?&nbsp; You want food?"</strong><br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Welcome... Home? Towards OMEGA's Omega. (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>mayovagn</strong> on <strong>24-06-2013, 02:49:49</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				(http://daamanagement.co.uk/images_client/main/249_Josette_Simon-Square.jpg)<br><strong>Jen Godly "V"<br>Sitting on the dock of the bay, watching the tide go away.<br>Curious what the running noise might be.<br></strong><br><br>The arc, covering the arc till she was told to move, that was what was important. Till the other members of the landing party had secured the immediate area and she could move on to other things.<br><br>The burning curiosity to know what the bloody hell was going on out there with the running and the shouting and the banging about notwithstanding of course.<br><br>She hadn't known these folks long, but she didn't want to see them dying around her. Partly because they seemed half decent, but mostly because she was sorta relying on them for her own skin.<br><br>It would be really nice to know just what was going on. It was always the waiting that grated, waiting and not knowing, trying to keep your imagination in check, trying to not think of the pink elephant, which of course would then start dancing in your head immediately. In Jen's case it was often a Spetznaz shaped pink elephant. She had come so close that night. If it wasn't for her naturally good nightvision and her dark skin tone, coupled with her ability to remain very still and quiet in mortal terror of her life for a very long time she was certain she would have been killed along with the rest of her platoon.<br><br>Still, could be worse. She could have stayed back in Blighty instead of here playing 'hunt the spooky noise' with a bunch of yanks and a canuck.<br><br>What was going on out there?
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Welcome... Home? Towards OMEGA's Omega. (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>24-06-2013, 10:08:29</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i1240.photobucket.com/albums/gg481/indytims/liam1_zps538bd928.jpg)</div> <br><br>&nbsp;<strong>Name:</strong>&nbsp; Cpl. Alex Clark<br>&nbsp;<strong>Nationality:</strong>&nbsp; Canadian<br>&nbsp;<strong>Class/Skill Set:</strong> Designated Marksman/Sniper<br>&nbsp;<strong>Location:</strong>&nbsp; Container stacks<br>&nbsp;<strong>Tagged:</strong>&nbsp; open<br><br>The grouped worked together to home-in on the noise. It sounded like a single bogey, but of course if there were others out there who were -stationary-, they wouldn't know that until it was too late.<br><br>Lee gave the flanking signal, and without a word, and as quiet as he could be, Clark followed the directive, making a wide sweep out to Lee's right flank. Clark assumed Johnson would shadow him and they'd take the right flank together, or Johnson might head to the left, so they could cover both flanks.<br><br>The stacks of containers were like a metallic maze, reminding him of one of those hedge-mazes he had ventured through one Halloween back home. He had only made it about half-way through the maze when he and his girlfriend Suzie decided to sit in one of the darkened dead-ends and make out. <br><br>This time, he navigated the 'maze' with NVGs and his weapon raised and ready to dispatch any armed resistance he came across. So far, so good... until he heard the woman's shriek.<br><br>Taking her baby? What the fuck was Lee trying to do? Take some woman's kid? Or was the woman just having a fit of paranoia, since Lee likely didn't have a use for -anyone's- baby? Keeping his breath regular, moving as quickly yet as quietly as he could, Clark rounded a corner and saw the scene that Lee was likely looking at. Clark hid most of his body around the corner of one of the containers, his body shrouded in darkness for the most part. This type of work, stealth and being unseen, was one of his specialties. <br><br>He lined up the woman in his sights - Clark was to her left, and her attention seemed completely on someone ahead of her - someone out of Clark's line of sight. It had to be Lee, but even if Clark couldn't see him at the moment, he could see the woman - and the gun she wielded.<br><br>~Put the gun down, lady...~ Clark mentally thought to himself. He had zero wish to put down a woman - and risk harming the child to boot - but to protect his team, he knew it might become necessary. Gently, silently as he held her in his sights, his finger flicked the safety switch on his weapon to 'Off', and then he waited....<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Welcome... Home? Towards OMEGA's Omega. (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>AlexStone</strong> on <strong>24-06-2013, 18:28:07</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div align="center">(http://i44.tinypic.com/juwjh2.jpg)<br><strong>In the Stacks of Shipping containers<br>Lee and Choi And Johnson and Clark.</strong></div><br>The didn't quite put the gun down as much as she put herself down, right on her ass.&nbsp; A metallic rattle and clatter followed, as her ass kicked aside a number of tin cans, sending them across the metal floor of the container.&nbsp; She seemed to slump back against a saggy cardboard box, which collapsed even more with her weight, barely supporting her, while the cans eventually scattered, the sound muffled by various wrappers and papers that clogged up the floor of the container, almost as some sort of nest.&nbsp; <br><br>She sat limply, her jaw hanging open slackly, her eyes unfocusing as she settled back.&nbsp; Her feet came up, lifting her knees to her chest.&nbsp; She draped her arms down her knees, and let the pistol hang limply from her hand, the other arm clutching a bundle of cloth against her stomach, between her thighs and her torso.&nbsp; Her limbs were long, and narrow, her skin hanging off her arms loosely, like a shirt that was just too big.&nbsp; Dirt lay smeared across her face, sunk into the hollows of her cheeks and down her bare forearms.&nbsp; She started to shiver a bit, shaking sharply, but minutely.&nbsp; Her lungs kept working, though, and her breath formed a fog in the cool night air.<br><br>The stench of the place was starting to get overwhelming.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Welcome... Home? Towards OMEGA's Omega. (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>mayovagn</strong> on <strong>30-06-2013, 05:10:56</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				(http://daamanagement.co.uk/images_client/main/249_Josette_Simon-Square.jpg)<br><strong>Jen Godly "V"<br>Sitting on the dock of the bay, watching the tide go away.<br>Curious what the running noise might be.<br></strong><br><br>"We could use a medic up here, we have a civilian who has medical issues here Lieutenant." The sergeants voice over the radio, Jen's eyes narrowed for a moment, she waited for the order.<br><br>"Godly, go."<br><br>She was up in moments rolling to her feet and starting off in the direction she had heard the commotion from before. "Godly on my way, guide me in." She walked forward slowly, carefully, rushing wasn't necessary it wasn't declared as an emergency, better to be there a few seconds later than trip and injure yourself on the way.<br><br>The woman, when she arrived at her destination, was emaciated, had a wild stare about her and was breathing a little erratically. The medic spoke quietly, calmly, soothingly to the woman as she carefully looked her over with a pen light. Checking her over visually before listening to her chest and a few other little medical things. She gave the woman a smile and a nod before stepping back out of earshot and getting back on the radio.<br><br>"Leftennant," Jen pronounced the rank the proper English way. She had generations of her brethren and sistren breathing down her neck on that one after all. "the woman the serge found is malnourished, quite badly. She is going to need feeding back up on good solid stuff if she is going to make it long term, but slowly. Too much food right now will be just as bad most likely as just letting her starve. Too much of a shock to her system. She can be saved, but would likely have to be well supervised and looked after. She is a bit out of it, a bit thousand yard stare, could be the lack of vitamins and minerals, could be the state of the world. Can't say without more time. Suggest someone takes her back to sickbay where she can be properly evaluated if we can spare the men and resources."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Welcome... Home? Towards OMEGA's Omega. (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>vin26m</strong> on <strong>02-07-2013, 12:50:50</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/9/94/126px-TunnelRatROCFilecard.jpg)</div> <br><br>&nbsp;<strong>Name:</strong>&nbsp; Sergeant Nicky Lee<br>&nbsp;<strong>Nationality:</strong>&nbsp; American<br>&nbsp;<strong>Class/Skill Set:</strong> Combat Engineer<br>&nbsp;<strong>Location:</strong>&nbsp; In the stacks of shipping containers<br>&nbsp;<strong>Tagged:</strong>&nbsp; Choi, Clark, Johnson<br><br><hr><br>Sergeant Lee gave orders to Choi, Clark and Johnson.&nbsp; He disarmed the civilian, taking her S&amp;W Model 19 revolver and four rounds of .38 Special.&nbsp; He would check it out later.<br><br><strong>"Security.&nbsp; Form a perimeter.&nbsp; Cover Godly while she does her thing with the civilian."</strong><br><br>Once everyone was settled in, Lee set his SAW up and talked to Godly over his shoulder.<br><br>As the medic checked on the woman and called in a situation report to the lieutenant, Sergeant Lee talked to her about an assessment of his own.&nbsp; <br><br><strong>"She's in bad shape, Godly, and not just in the 'I live in a cargo container after the end of the world' sense.&nbsp; There was something about her that just doesn't fit, medically speaking.&nbsp; You think it's more than just starvation?"</strong><br><br>After a few moments of silence from the surrounding area, Lee said, <strong>"I'm going to check out the container.&nbsp; I'll probably be able to spot any booby traps, and it will give us an idea of what's going on with her and around here."</strong><br><br>Lee had the others expand their sectors of security while he went into the container.&nbsp; He didn't stay long.&nbsp; The smell was terrible, and the source of it was a bucket she used for a toilet.&nbsp; There were empty cans of soup and a nest of ruined blankets.<br><br>There were some potentially useful things, too.&nbsp; Two cans of beef stew, two canteens of water and... over a dozen electric ranges still in their shipping crates.<br><br><strong>"Lieutenant, this is Lee.&nbsp; The shipping container the civilian was in has... 14 brand new, unopened electric ranges.&nbsp; Looks like the squadron will be able to cook once we get some electricity going.&nbsp; I can engineer something up later.&nbsp; All these containers probably have all sorts of useful equipment and consumables."</strong><br><br>Lee covered his sector again.&nbsp; <strong>"Lieutenant, what's our next move?&nbsp; We can bring the civilian back to the other section, then patrol more of the docks.&nbsp; Once that's secured, we can probe the interior of the port.&nbsp; Maybe we'll find something useful to keep for ourselves and other stuff for the troop and squadron."</strong><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Welcome... Home? Towards OMEGA's Omega. (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Neysha</strong> on <strong>04-07-2013, 00:29:31</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://rebzombie.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/05/the-front-line-Kim-Ok-Bin.jpg)</div><strong>Name: Sukhee Choi<br>Nationality:&nbsp; American<br>Class/Skill Set: Mechanic<br>Location:&nbsp; Motor Pool<br></strong><br><br><br>"Umgh... God..." Choi muffled underbreath, resisting the urge to just gag as the strench wafted outward from the filth of the container the woman was apparently living within. She wanted to go one handed with holding her weapon so she could cover her mouth and nose with her arm but resisted the unprofessional urge to do so and just grunted her dislike. Thus... when the Sergeant Lee ordered her and some of the others to form a perimeter, she was relieved. She hoped discovering new kinds of smells wasn't going to be standard on this mission, but with them in a major city, and from what she remembered of the ration crunches in Europe, that made it not seem so likely. Without water, power, transportation and other infrastructure break downs, things probably fell apart quick. Even she, with her admittedly average intelligence, could realize that. <br><br>But in the immediate situation, she formed a perimeter which allowed her to suck in the bland, fairly less odorous, but far from clean, air being brought over the container park from the ocean. Small victories.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Welcome... Home? Towards OMEGA's Omega. (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>AlexStone</strong> on <strong>05-07-2013, 21:28:38</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div align="center">(http://baltimorechromiumresiduecleanup.com/_resources/images/photos/2011_terminal.jpg)<br><em>Dundalk Marine Terminal, before the world blew up.</em></div><br>As First Section returned from the stacks, supporting the disheveled woman from the container, collapsed into a state of catatonia, Chief Bivona, the commander of the boats, called up from the water below them.&nbsp; "Hey, lieutenant?&nbsp; Your boss is calling you on the radio.&nbsp; Well, your XO, technically."&nbsp; He paused as one of the sailors caught up to him.&nbsp; "And my boss is calling me- something's afoot."&nbsp; <br><br>Lt York nodded, adjusting the tac radio on her pack to the radio repeater the Navy had set up.&nbsp; She keyed the radio, and spoke. "CLUB QUEEN, this is CLUB TREY ACTUAL, over."<br><br>There was a burst of static.&nbsp; "CLUB TREY, this is CLUB QUEEN.&nbsp; Report Status, over."<br><br>York took a breath before replying. "CLUB TREY is feet dry, heavy equipment offloading.&nbsp; Facilities look intact at initial inspection.&nbsp; No evidence of blast, no immediate radiation.&nbsp; Dock is in good shape." She gave it a good stamp with her boot. "That's all preliminary, over."<br><br>The was a static laden pause, then a response. "Understood, CLUB TREY. Standby, over."&nbsp; <br><br>Expecting a minute or two silence, she waited.&nbsp; Something broke the still silence, up to the north.&nbsp; Gunfire.&nbsp; A quick exchange, drifting over the water.<br><br>The radio leapt to life. "Break! Break! Break! HUS BUS, HUS BUS, this is CLUB DEUCE.&nbsp; Red priority.&nbsp; 3 to pick up.&nbsp; Grid 636154, out."<br><br>"HUS BUS, enroute, out," responded a calm female voice.<br><br>The man from 2nd Platoon continued. "CLUB QUEEN, this is CLUB DEUCE, contact, over."<br><br>"Go, CLUB DEUCE," commanded Finn.<br><br>"Engaged unknown force, fire exchanged.&nbsp; 1 Blue wounded, 2 orange wounded.&nbsp; Unknown force disengaged.&nbsp; First section overwatch, second on pickup, over," replied CLUB DEUCE.<br><br>After a brief pause.&nbsp; "Understood, CLUB&nbsp; DEUCE.&nbsp; Advise and report.&nbsp; Break any new contact.&nbsp; Out.&nbsp; CLUB QUEEN to CLUB TREY."<br><br>York gave a quick jump.&nbsp; "CLUB TREY, over."<br><br>"CLUB TREY, you are to proceed around the perimeter of the Dundalk terminal.&nbsp; TRIPLE BLUE needs to conduct their recon, and you are to sweep the dock of any threats to their efforts.&nbsp; Engage and destroy hostile forces if able.&nbsp; If unable, report.&nbsp; Detain all non-hostile unknowns.&nbsp; Cover the area from your current position, around the waterfront, to the Broening Highway, over."<br><br>York considered the map in her mind.&nbsp; It was just over two miles, and she had to protect her landing site, too.&nbsp; This was going to suck.&nbsp; "CLUB TREY is to sweep the dock, from our landing site to Broening Highway, for hostile forces, in support of TRIPLE BLUE, over."<br><br>"Exactly, CLUB TREY.&nbsp; Radio if you need support.&nbsp; Keep an ear peeled in case CLUB SMOKE comes on line.&nbsp; Out."&nbsp; <br><br>York reset her radio, then looked up to see the platoon already assembled loosely around her.&nbsp; The radio traffic had drawn them all in around her, so she decided to give her orders like this.&nbsp; "Alright.&nbsp; Sergeant Hart, 2nd section is going to secure our landing area.&nbsp; Take possession of that building over there, fortify it, and establish sentries.&nbsp; Support the sailors, and watch our new guest.&nbsp; I'll radio when I finish the patrol, or send up an illumination round from Johnson's M203 if the radio's out."&nbsp; <br><br>Hart nodded. "Yes, ma'am."&nbsp; <br><br>She continued.&nbsp; "First section, we'll make the patrol.&nbsp; Clark, take point.&nbsp; Lead us along the waterfront, as close to cover as you can.&nbsp; Lee and Choi, you'll be at the center.&nbsp; If there's trouble, get a firing position and suppress the trouble as fast as you can.&nbsp; Johnson, take up the rear. Anyone comes up behind, put a grenade on them.&nbsp; Godly, you're with me,&nbsp; We'll float from front to rear.&nbsp; Keep your eyes as open as you can.&nbsp; <br><br>"Let's move out."&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Welcome... Home? Towards OMEGA's Omega. (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>mayovagn</strong> on <strong>11-07-2013, 02:44:05</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				(http://daamanagement.co.uk/images_client/main/249_Josette_Simon-Square.jpg)<br><strong>Jen Godly "V"<br>Heading into Indian country, now with real Indians! (Note some of the real Indians are former natives of India...)<br>Wishing that people would stop shooting at each other and just learn to get along.<br></strong><br><br><br>This seemed like it would be so bad. The yank army were feeding her and provided her with actual medical supplies, allowed her to feel like she was making a real difference. The squad wasn't so bad, if the LT seemed a bit vacant at times and the Sgt had wandering eyes going on... But they were not at all a bad bunch. The civvie they had found looked like she could possibly recover in time and now... Now there had been shots fired and the call had gone out for the medevac boat.<br><br>Arse.<br><br>Why did it always come down to some joker thinking he was king of the hill and deciding that the only way forward was to slot someone? Wankers. Ego. It was to blame for so much ill in the world. Without it things would likely not be as, well, nuclear and generally unpleasant as they had been in recent years.<br><br>The thought of casualties snapped her back fully to reality. This was something she had to be cool, cold and professional about. Triage drills started to run through her head as she waited for orders. Then they came and it was a case of heading out into the unknown. The unknown where people were being shot. Great. That thrill of 'Why the fuck am I here and not in bed somewhere snug and warm again?' welled up inside her. Some people, young people, usually the kind that had never seen real action, would claim that they never felt fear. Idiots. Fear was good, it kept you going, kept you awake and alert, kept you alive. You just had to stop it from reaching terror.<br><br>Following the Lieutenant Jen accompanied the squad as they headed further into the unknown. The glow of the eerie green world in the goggles she was wearing was disconcerting. Still, it was better than tripping over, say, that discarded crate or that large section of pipe, or falling down that big hole... Yes, the googles were not such a bad thing.<br><br>There was a fire of some sort, likely a camp fire, across the other side of the docks. Jen pointed it out to the officer and kept walking.<br><br>The bridge across was not to far ahead. She could see it in the alien glow of the NVG's. These things were good, and useful, but they did give you a very strange flat take on the world.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Welcome... Home? Towards OMEGA's Omega. (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>NiceTexasGuy</strong> on <strong>11-07-2013, 04:31:39</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				(http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/7/7e/American_soldier_in_Vietnam.jpg)<br><strong>Name:</strong>&nbsp; Randy James "R.J." Johnson<br><strong>Position:</strong>&nbsp; Grenadier<br><strong>Location:</strong>&nbsp; Dundalk Marine Terminal - among the shipping containers<br><br>*******<br><br><br>Johnson had seen some <em>fucked up shit</em> in the war, but through it all and way back in the back of his mind he held on to the idea that things were different back in the States.&nbsp; Sure, his intellect knew a lot of shit had gone down back home, but in his heart he convinced himself it wasn't as bad as what he'd seen in Europe.&nbsp; When he got close enough to see and smell what was going on in the cargo container, he had to back away and take in a few deep breaths to keep from gagging.&nbsp; Then a few sips of water, and he was okay.<br><br>Yeah, not too bad.&nbsp; And this is Baltimore, big city in the Northeast.&nbsp; Folks back home are country folks, they know how to survive and take care of themselves and each other.&nbsp; &nbsp;Besides, he had no business being around the opening of the container anyway ... he would keep an eye on the northern perimeter of this little operation and let the people making more money than him sweat the small stuff.<br><br>When finally they began to get organized to move again, it was almost a relief.&nbsp; It was a bit of a relief to be tail-end charlie, too.&nbsp; He didn't relish the idea of running into something he didn't know how to deal with.&nbsp; After all, this wasn't Europe where he'd learned to tell good guy from bad with a fair degree of accuracy (knowing your Area of Operations helps) ... this was America where everyone was supposed to be on the same side, which in many ways made it worse.&nbsp; Here they would be faced with the decision to <em>shoot or not shoot</em> their own countrymen, an additional step in the process that the process didn't really have time for.<br><br>It was nerves, probably, that made him start chattering as he double checked the placement of the M203 rounds in the carrier, so he'd be able to find what he was looking for in the dark.<br><br>"Ya know, back home there was this family in town lived in a house that smelled sorta like that.&nbsp; There was like three or four generations living there ... musta been a dozen kids in school and they all smelled.&nbsp; Everybody thought it was just them not cleaning their house or somethin', ya know?&nbsp; Turns out the cops went in one day and they had grandma layin' in bed in a back room, all dirty and sores all over her body.&nbsp; That's what smelled so bad.&nbsp; They's just keepin' her alive to collect her government checks."<br><br>Okay, so maybe not everybody back home knew how to survive and take care of each other, but most of 'em did, he was sure of that.<br><br><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=175864.msg8516372#msg8516372">Quote from: AlexStone on 05-07-2013, 21:28:38</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">"Let's move out." <br></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br>And he did, falling in line behind the others and doing his best to cover the 180 degree arc behind the patrol (which fortunately wasn't always 180 degrees, given they were moving along the water's edge much of the time.)&nbsp; Still, in an environment like this, he realized being assigned to bring up the rear wasn't the big favor he thought it was.
			</dd>
		</dl>
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