Jan simply braced himself, aware that if he was on the turret, he wouldn't do very well out of the impact, as he bailed back down to where his 416 was in the passenger footwell, back into a seat as he barely was able to brace himself. The HMMWV was well armored, but it was no tank, and it carried more than enough momentum, do do some seriously nasty damage to the Merc, as they rammed into it's side. Jan wasn't belted up ,and felt himself be thrown forward, his arms in front of his face as he felt his helmet impact Scott's seat, as the Pole barely came back to his senses as the vehicle creaked a little from the harsh force that had been exerted, opening up the door, a little dazed and confused as he poked the HK416 out first, then rounded the corner around the armor-plated door, reinforcing Zhenya as he pulled the man out. He watched the Russian, as he threw him on the floor, and punched the light out of him, the canister on the floor, as Jan looked over at the anarchy, and the madness, before looking over at Zhenya. This place was completely dead and gridlocked- it was a nightmare. "Nice play, Zhenya- We need to move, ASAP. Get in the vehicle- up on gun, but keep your head down for now till we're out of the city." Jan said, as he looked back, his sunglasses still intact despite the fact that they had basically crashed into a vehicle at a reasonably high speed, with the HMMWV built well enough to pull away. Opening the door, Jan covered, the dusty Polish GROM operator checking the car for any hidden movers, before clambering in after Zhenya was securely in with the device, before bungling into the vehicle himself. "Scott, get us the fuck out of here. Iraqi Security Forces could be coming, and they don't like the look of Americans making a ruckus." Jan added, just hoping there was enough time. He had a good chance to get a breather in the car, but the crash had winded him to some degree, and he only now felt the real kick in his lungs of the air coming back. Already checking his rifle, flipping the PMAG out, he put it back on his plate carrier, as he flipped a new one in, cocking the rifle as he took a simple guess that if things went bad, then Iraqi Police or any remaining TIAF militants were fair game. --------------- The satellite phone rang, Huscarl sitting in the tent, as he finally heard it ping through, to Colonel Sanderson. "Device is dealt with, Colonel. EOD just rendered it neutral, and it's no longer an issue." "Understood. Intel is getting a picture of the global situation- the Russians have promised a fierce retaliation for what happened in Grozny, and we've found a key military stronghold of the TIAF forces- they've been pushed to Arat Military Airfield, in the far north-west of Shirak Province, Armenia. In the lower mountains, but it's snowed over. We want to find what we can in relation to the manufacture- and this airbase is our best bet, so you're joining in with the assault." "And the Armenians haven't got the manpower to force them back, so they're asking the Russians to join in. Kurwa." "Indeed. A whole fucking brigade of VDV, Captain Bogdanowicz. We've bought ourselves some time, and instructed them to hold back until 0800 hours..." "Jesus Christ. They aren't fucking around. Alright, where will that leave us, Sir?" "Right in the middle of it. You need to get your sniper team to eliminate any AAA guns, and clean out any major resistance. Russian CAS and their supporting transports don't want to get their hands too dirty, so you'll co-ordinate gun runs and bombs on the airfield's main command structure after it's down. We've talked with the Russians, and through Zhenya you'll get those- if you're familiar with JTAC duties, it should be fine. Your way in is via helicopter insertion, in the mountains to the west, and you'll make your way down to get an overview. The snipers will be dropped in the early hours before you, to get a sniping position and get a grip on the situation." "Good. Any friendlies directly on our end?" "Spetsnaz, possibly. Though they're waiting for you, they won't act without anything stupid. They have other priorities in the areas- so it allows you some time." "Great...well, time to go fill my lungs with mountain air again, and have to speak Russian again. So we land in, lase some targets for Russian fast air, go in and get whatever information we need, and then wait for the Russians to back us up?" "We'll brief you when you get closer, but that's the thick and thin of it, Captain. You'll be leaving by tomorrow. Be ready." The phone went dead, as Jan nodded, already putting it back, as the black T-shirted Polish soldier walked out, into the evening sun at Kisik Kipuri, the US camp north of Mosul they had been at earlier. A particular anchor-type emblem sat on his shirt's arm- something that also was on his uniform in roughly the same place, known as the Kotwica. It was a symbol harkening back to the days of WW2, where the Polish Resistance adapted it as their impromptu symbol. It was what the first Polish covert operators kept in mind, and the [url=http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/6/67/Kotwica_symbol.svg/425px-Kotwica_symbol.svg.png]Kotwica[/url], or the "Anchor", usually sat atop a Polish flag on Jan's uniform, below his rank insignia. Many other Polish SF wore it, and many foreigners didn't understand why. But it was a symbol of fighting spirit, and after all, was a memory for those who fought beyond what Jan would call a regular state of mind. It was courage, signified in a simple image, that while a small touch, was something he remembered his former CO would always say, again and again. Courage wasn't a state of mind, it was a lifestyle. (For the next op, Zhenya can have an LMG or Scott can- completely up to you lads. But AT though, and probably a heavier-end of the spectrum in firepower.) -------------- Somewhere in Shirak Province, Armenia 0600 Hours 11th December, 2013 Neil adjusted his position in the snow, the rocky outcrop cold, but the set of trees around it concealing it well. Thing was, Neil's view down his Spotting Device was perfect, as the angle was good. The DSR-50 sat to the side, as Neil looked over to Wendy. "This is what you get when terrorists decide that winter was the best time of year to do terrorism. Fuck." He said, chuckling a little, as he looked down the optic. "Okay, it looks pretty fucking bad to be fair. I see three Su-25 Frogfoots on the side of the runway, poorly maintained at 1,100m, direct ahead, and two BMP-1 IFVs under a camouflage net, ping that to 1200m, to the left of those. Fuel dump is at the same distance pretty much, and that's further reference left, close to that lorry there. That runway won't get any fucking planes taking off it, not with that ice- so those things are practically immobile. Hold up. Two very old Kamaz Lorries and a BTR-60 APC, going across the runway." Neil said, adjusting his device a little, able to make out a small set of thermal signatures. "This rifle will go through those vehicles like butter, but we don't want to go loud just yet." Neil added, as he shifted up, aware that they had been here for hours now, simply waiting, already observing. The fact was, they had to shoot at something such as that, it wouldn't be too hard, or at least, Neil hoped- the .50 cal bullet would spiral through it due to it's penetrative measure. Meanwhile, over on the Turkish side of the border, the MH-6 Little Bird containing the rest of Lima thundered, moving with pace and skill that a pilot would need in these mountains. "Crossing over now, were are now in Armenia gentlemen. We are five mikes to LZ Echo, check your seatbelts are done up tight, it's going to be a tight LZ." The pilot said, in a rather half-joking manner towards the end, as Jan, hanging off the side, knew it was probably the only reason he hadn't fallen off yet. He wore a variation of Puma, in a much lighter tone, the mixed greys not digital, but a fitting color on his uniform, with the ranking and Kotwica on the left shoulder. On this fine morning in the Armenian Highlands, the mountains they passed over about 1,250m in elevation, the snow had some good effects, but it wasn't as bad as they had seen in Ardahan Province, where they had just been. The Turks had kicked seven shades of shit out of the TIAF, and it meant that they had now had to go over into Armenia, to deal with the forces they had. This airfield, according to the last UAV report, had roughly 100 to 150 militants within a 1km radius of it, and from that, Jan guessed 40 of those would be on the airfield itself. Perfect, if the opportunity presented itself, this would be a fairly simple run, so long as they moved quickly down the hills to a suitable position. Jan had his 416 setup with a winterized camoflage, the ACOG a TA648 6X, with an RMR atop the rifle also. The M320 sat under the rifle's barrel, and a AN/PEQ-15L, with both a IR Laser and Light module, sat on the side of the weapon. A Surefire Mini Monster silencer sat on the end, and the stock was back to a Magpul CTR Carbine, pushed about midway. The Magpul PMAG magazines Jan used were still there, with a Puma-camoflage assault back, that contained the rest of his gear. A pair of heavily red-tinted Oakley sunglasses sat on his face, with a Ops Core helmet, painted a grey shade with a flashlight attached to the side. A aptly camoflaged plate carrier came into play too- Jan using the same one as used in Ardahan. "Good to hear- Scott, check your AT is good, LZ should be clear but if it isn't, we're going into hell anyway." Jan added, speaking into his microphone rather than yelling to his side, as he raised the HK416, scanning the area ahead, as they brushed through a valley, headed to a small gap in a unforested section of hill.