Stürm Adler chuckled as Swordfish warned him of the pressure, but as soon the torpedo launched forward, he felt himself holding onto the torpedo a bit harder. The pressure of the sea squeezed him and his armour ever so slightly, but his training and now nerves of steel, kept him sane as they made their way underneath the Atlantic Ocean. The constant pressure reminded him of Moscow, the constant pounding of artillery, tank fire, grenades and infantry, and the demolition of the Kremlin right underneath his feet, it felt the same. "Let's hope this will be the first of few endeavours underneath the sea, I'd rather be a tank than a torpedo.

He turned his head to see what Swordfish was talking about, and looked down at the liquid rock which spewed out of the bottom. "They'll be wishing they'd been here years earlier, when the Atlantic Ocean won't be littered with Allied ships. I'm not a praying man, but I'll be damned if that isn't the gate to Hell." He said over the comms to her. He hoped that they weren't too far from their LZ, or whatever one could call a LZ when coming from the ocean. 

Soon the torpedoes reached what Swordfish had told Stürm Adler were their entry-point. The torpedoes slowed their movement until they reached a complete stop, marking the final station for their trusted underwater transport. Stürm Adler did his best to get off the torpedo, his armour more clunky that it usually was, even for his now years in use. "Jawhol, Swordfish. Ready to raise hell on Earth, meine Frau?"