Carl leapt up into the back seat of the ASLV. And got the 40 up to snuff. As they pealed out he was just swinging the thing into position, and had to crank it back around as they roared passed those technicals. The big 40mm launcher began to cough, ripping into some of the technicals. He jerked and rolled with the ASLV as they bumped out of the town and onto the road. He twisted the gun around and began to fire back the way they came. The Forty growled as it unleashed rounds, crashing into the technicals. Carl called to Ross, "Our tailgaters don't like our gifts. I'm gonna keep giving them until they accept it." He cackled, still firing without remorse. As they barreled down the road he kept firing. When the Apache passed by and hammered the last of them he grinned broadly, "Good effect on target there Whiskey Six. Fly low, fly well. Thanks for the help." He tucked the Forty off to the side as they continued on. Carl grinned broadly as they approached the LZ, "RCAF to the rescue, only a matter of time until the Canadian Master Plan comes into being and all of the world will bow before us."As the Chinnok came buzzing in the pilot chuckled over the radio, "That's supposed to be private information. You guys must be Knight. And that SEALs team that went missing. Or what's left of it." Carl raised a fist in greeting to the CSOR operators as they passed. Carl hopped out and placed a few safety straps on the floor and onto the ASLV he then nodded to the CSORs, "Audeamus gents. Good to see that I'm not the only Canadian out here." He shook hands. As they took off he came back to join Ross and the SEALs, "Like a little glimpse of home you know?" ----- Carl had decided to take a quick nap, they were more or less out of danger they could afford the little luxuries. He jolted awake though when the Chinnok jerked. He himself jerked awake and grabbed a suppport spar for security. He looked about, then heard it, "MANPADS! We're taking rounds." He gripped the spar tightly, "Fuck me!" He grit his teeth and held on for life. His armor wasn't going to keep him alive from this he thought just as everything went black. ----- Awhile later he heard something bang against his armor. He coughed, and heard Burns, "Lt. Cardinal? LT? Can you hear me? Come on big guy." Carl coughed again and reached up to push his visor up, "Holy shit...I'm alive...Burns? Who's left?" He got up with the SEALs help and took stock. The CSORs dead, as he got up to his feet he felt something click in his knee. Carl limped forward grunting painfully, "Think i sprained something...fuck me sideways...where's the Captain? Ross? Buddy!" He limped over and looked into the chopper spotting Ross. Carl grunted, "Keep an eye on him...Burns help me with the ASLV...I think we might want it's firepower..." ----- Sometime later he heard Ramsey, "Carl! Ross is up!" Carl came limping back as quick as he could looking in to see Ross getting up, "Fucking hell Cap. Thought we might have lost you." He grunted, the pain killer her had taken a little while ago still hadn't worked it's way into his system. So his knee which could very well be sprained and twisted hadn't stopped hurting yet. Carl limped inside to help his partner up. Then followed him out, "Well I guess all of this is going to be something we can tell our kids in the future." He grinned broadly. As they went about their planning Carl kept looking down the way the enemy would be coming. "This is going to be one hell of a fight." He got up to follow Ross into the chopper. Spotting the weapons as they came to them, "Well well...gifts from on high." He reached down to where he had the three CSOR dogtags tucked into a leg pouch, "Thanks boys." He patted the pouch then gathered the weaponry, "With this Timby I ought to be able to give those guys something to think about." He grabbed the Timberwolf and the C6, along with their clips and magazines. He carried them outside, setting them down where he can get at them. He set up quickly, unstowing the Timberwolf, popping out it's bipod and readying it. He turned to assist in taking out the quick responders. But as soon he could he was back on the Timberwolf. He cycled the bolt, and fired, the roar of the .338 Lapua round shattering the air. A man screamed in pain as he fell to the ground, missing his arm from the shoulder down. Carl wasn't trying for instant kill shots. This wasn't the time for lined up firing. He could do it. He'd been in the Arctic Rangers before this, he'd landed shots with that Enfield. But this wasn't the time. He just wanted to land shot. Take enemy out of the game. Lessen the tide that would hit them. He fired again and again, he had a limited amount of those five round box magazines. But he intended to use them all to their fullest. He made that trip up to them one hell of a rigourous trip. Anytime someone came out onto open ground there was a round hissing down towards them. He kept it up until he heard a crunch. He looked out from the scope to find a round jammed into the bolt, "Shit! Timberwolf is down!" He grabbed got up and ran for the C6.