"The Hot Hell"
April 2nd, 2011
H-Hour- Minus Sixteen

The noise of helicopters above was crystal clear, revibrating across the rugged terrain as the Chinooks passed into the distance, from the view out the side of the UH-1Y Venomd. Within that helicopter, was a certain team aboard. This was Charlie Squad, of 1st Platoon, 3rd Battalion Canadian Regiment. But a set of Americans joined their ranks, from the US Marines. And made things a little different in this situation. More than just a little, they had slightly different weeapons, nationalities and camoflage. But most crucially of all...well, they were different in ways that everyone already could simply guess. Staff Sergeant James "Chaplain" Bishop looked out the helicopter, sitting at the right of the chopper, looking out into the abyss that lay below out of the helicopter. Redeployment, back to the front. Back to Camp Spear. And he had a new team. Introductions had been made, but they were still gelling together, on this flight to the encampment.
"We're approximately ten minutes out from Camp Spear, we're to be well recieved I hear." The pilot added, as James adjusted his sunglasses, checking his headset.
"Understood. Welcome to the Hot Hell, ladies and gentlemen. Out there, are enough dirty bastards wanting to get their hands on us. If you've never been, Afghanistan is just about best now. First poppy harvest of the year, so expect every farmer that has half a braincell to be given an AK by the Taliban and told to shoot on sight at ISAF personnel." He said, sweeping his hand out of the side of the helicopter, adjusting his helmet and his chest rig, looking over to his left, inside the helicopter. The team. The designated marksman of Charlie, as well as his 2IC, was Corporal Pelletier, with Petty Officer Duke, as along with Corporal Westfield and Private Jennison. They all had a wide spectrum of combat under their belt, James included. They'd seen enough war between them somewhat, and Charlie knew that they'd be sent right into the fray.
"Looks like it's going to be just us on this deployment. Might end up getting a ride with one of the LAV crews, you never know." James added, looking to the rest, the team well balanced and forged, ready to take whatever shit was coming at them. In his head, [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aRPCrWPAtEQ]Pink Floyd[/url] came on, as he looked across the expanse through his Oakleys, aware that this tour would have a bit of action, but perhaps not too much- so that at least the men he came with would come home.

James had his C8 by his side, pointing downwards to the floor of the helicopter. His assault pack sat on his lap, with his helmet and various other equipment just on him. They'd left Kandahar Airport roughly an hour ago, and were sweeping across the Afghan countryside, quickly. They'd been previously in some light work with a Provisional Reconstruction team, for almost a week. So it was safe to say, that James was still learning the team's niches, and inversely so. 

(Short post, to establish the scene and so on. Things will get more developed.)