[b]'T-those tanks, sir...'[/b]

It was a relief that Bons had finally awoken, although Meulemann hadn't told him of his squad's fate. The four of the lay prone on the second floor of a bombed out house, gazing down through the rubble at the Imperial command post and trying to come up with a plan of attack. The enemy officer, a Colonel by the looks of him, was in plain sight and would fall easily to either sniper; the problem lay with the dozen logistical soldiers running back and forth and more pressingly those two tanks. Even if they didn't immediately spot where the shot came from, they could just blast every possible building until they got lucky; the Captain doubted his men would escape unharmed. Even when one of the tanks rolled off toward the front lines, Tarquin held fire. The risks were just too great at the moment... [i]Give me an opening, anything...[/i]

A few miles to the north, Sergeant Harald's group was setting up for their own attack. The three of them crawled slowly along a ditch toward a small enemy position, taking care to remain unseen. Harald could hardly believe his luck; they had somehow stumbled upon an artillery spotting team, two men complete with their own APC. If they could get close enough to kill the Imps in one volley... They might even be able to fool the enemy into shelling their own troops. The three of them continued on slowly, the pounding of their hearts growing ever louder as nerves took hold.