[h3]Sergeant Harald, Gallian Militia[/h3]

The squad returned in dribs and drabs, much to Harald's annoyance. He wasn't sure whether it was disrepect for his rank or something more harmless, like fatigue from last night's battle, but the squad just wasn't functioning quite right today. He took a deep drag of his cigarette while keeping an eye on the formerly wounded. They seemed especially odd, but that was no surprise. If only they could spend a day in rest... But time was against them and the rest of the Regiment counting on them to clear the way. Harald flicked the dogend away wearily and climbed up into the driver's seat. Before he could start up the engine, he felt a tap on the shoulder. [b]'What, Jatmoore?'[/b] He cast an eye back toward the girl, seated in the back of the APC. She [i]did[/i] look rough, but that might have just been yesterday's after-effects. [b]'... Hopefully it won't come to that. Since we have a few more bodies now, I might tell the injured to sit this next one out. Depends on what we find.'[/b] He appreciated Hunt's candour, if not his life-saving techniques. [b]'Can you take the MG, mate? And get one of the new guys watching the back.'[/b]

Before Hunt could reply, the passenger side door was wrenched open and a soaked Carn stuffed himself inside. Suppressing an irrtated sigh, Harald answered with a curt nod and called out the window. [b]'Load up, kids. Rotate sentries and gunners ever three hours. If memory serves, we're about a day's drive from the next strongpoint. If you need a piss break, just yell.'[/b] Once everyone was aboard and all kit stowed, he fired up the ragnoline engine. He couldn't say that he liked the way these Imp machines handled, but for fuel efficiency there were none better. Nevertheless, the Imperials had set up a number of refuelling checkpoints around Vasel in order to expand their supply lines and it was one of these depots that the team was headed to next. He gunned the engine and set off.

[hr]

After twelve hours hard driving, Harald was reaching the limit of his endurance. Once he got to the point that his eyelids were drooping by themselves, he slowed and parked up at the edge of a field, partially hidden by a line of hedgerows. Getting out to stretch his legs, Harald nevertheless kept his rifle handy. This was enemy territory and he'd be surprised if they didn't run into trouble before reaching their destination. Opening the APC's rear hatch, he sat down on the step while rolling a cigarette. Most of the squad was awake, it seemed. [b]'Just a quick pit stop. If anyone needs to take a shit, help yourself to a bush.'[/b] He smiled faintly, amused by the thought of some of the more dainty squad members doing just that. [b]'Anyone know Vasel well? Apparently there's a ring of old coach houses around the city, part of the old horse and cart transport system. Nowadays they're just inns, but they still sit on the main routes into the city. Apparently. Never been there myself.'[/b] Harald couldn't help but feel somewhat flippant about the whole situation. The orders he had been given were so vague, so open to interpretation, that he could have had a picnic somewhere between Breda and Vasel and probably qualified as doing the job. [b]'Technically, the one we're going to is where the city actually begins. According to the map anyway. It's on a steep hill that overlooks the city, right on the ridge before the Vasel floodplain. If all goes well, we'll be able to sit back and watch from the roof as the rest of the Regiment hits Vasel.'[/b]