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[color=0AB100][sub][i]"Caught wind of something coming, so what'll it be, Captain?"[/i][/sub][/color]
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[color=Silver]	There, in a dark, dingy dugout - where the rats and mice gnawed at the walls, with roaches on their backs and nits in their furs - sat a candlelit map of the frontline. At its top were the words: [b]Plymouth Lane[/b]. There were creases all across its papyrus-like body where recent scribbles had been marked down. In the vast open plains at the map's eastern side were the labels of: "No Man's Land". Each mile of unentrenched land had been circled with possible positions for advanced defences and to highlight any potential lanes of threat after the premonitions of something large coming afoot. And what had the Captain done to prepare for this? Well, there were only two things he could do.

	Ever since the winter had settled in, Middleton had lost many of his centralised powers and freedom of movement. It was a frustrating piece of business, but the with the arrival of additional forces and the congregation of assisting regiments, the Generals and Colonels sat far behind the frontline had withdrawn the autonomy he wished to have. He was restricted from orchestrating large scale manoeuvres, as least as far as the Europan Front would allow, and his favoured use of artillery cannonades had to be confirmed through a series of radio calls to his superiors, half of which were denied without much thought. He knew better than anyone else that an offensive in their wintry conditions would be rather disastrous, more so than the usual assault, and so he had opted for an aggressive defence - hammering the Imperial positions with a near constant stream of mortar and soft artillery fire. What had come of this was a disappointing two-paged letter about how they were to just dig in. Of course, he still made use of his indirect-fire capabilities, but only on such a scale where his high-command wouldn't take much notice.

	On the agenda for that day, however, were two meagre but potentially viable plans to make better use of their defensive positions. The first he had made clear on the map in clear, black ink. He watched as it soaked into the paper, immortalising its presence on the map. It would be a small, yet permanent addition to the frontline, and he knew it'd make good use of it. For five or so straight days, he'd been stood in the shitty dugout without any intention of leaving. But on that day, Alexander prepared to make due haste for the men and women underneath his command, for he had a task to get going.[/color]

[color=0AB100][b]"Sergeant Talas?"[/b][/color] [color=Silver]He pressed the lid of his flask against his lips and sipped dry the cold watercan. Then, he eyed around the dugout, noticing no shift in his expected subordinate.[/color] [color=0AB100][b]"Sergeant Talas!"[/b][/color]

[color=9F40B6][b]"Here, sir!"[/b][/color] [color=Silver]The NCO waltzed in, half-arsed, before he met the busied Captain on the prowl. He watched as his superior sauntered over with bags beneath his eyes, and a freshened drizzle of water still soaked on his lips.[/color]

[color=0AB100][b]"We have our job. I'll need you to gather these soldiers and to take them to the assault trench."[/b][/color] [color=Silver]From the table, he had drawn out a handheld letter. On it read the names of several soldiers all within the same platoon, all under his own command. They read: [i]Corporal Sokołowšky, Private Grumman, Private Mehetabel, Lance Corporal White, Private Roe, Sergeant Schafer, Private Furst, Private Morvan, Private Blanc, Private Levesque + Private Daunte.[/i][/color] [color=0AB100][b]"When acceptable, within two hours I want you to send them out for a raid on the opposing observation posts and, if they remain covert, perhaps the Imperial frontline trench, in the exposed regions. I've already sent that bloody Delfziji lad to gather some so you may knock into him along the way."[/b][/color]

[color=9F40B6][b]"Collateral, Sir?"[/b][/color]

[color=0AB100][b]"No, no,"[/b][/color] [color=silver]he peered outside into the frosted trench,[/color] [color=0AB100][b]"snatch and grab - take at least two Imperial soldiers as prisoners. If possible, though unlikely, get them to grab an NCO. If not, just grab any Imperial stood in their strike zone. As soon as they have someone, and provided casualties are low, then they are to retreat immediately back to our lines. I need information, Sergeant, so make sure they know not to fuck up."[/b][/color]

[color=9F40B6][b]"Very good, sir. Anything else?"[/b][/color]

[color=0AB100][b]"Yes - send someone around the trench. Give them this letter and get them to find these soldiers."[/b][/color]

[color=Silver]	From the same table, he drew yet another piece of paper, two in fact - one for himself and one for the Sergeant to hand down - which read out the other list of names: [i]Corporal Robin-Charpentier, Private Cienie, Corporal Romijnsen, Lance Corporal Black, Private Hagen, Private Vastergoth, Private Farris + Private Penttilä.[/i] Around Lucia's name were several ink splodges, as if he'd contemplated whether or not to cross off her name. There was a slight twitch in his eye as he looked back at the name, a few times over, will a little stain of reluctance hanging from his tongue. He watched as the Sergeant snatched up his spare list and he looked back up to the Captain nonchalantly for additional information.[/color]

[color=0AB100][b]"Tell them to meet me in the supply trench. Get the boys there to wind up some wire-racks. I'll brief them in proper when we get there myself, but you can let them know that I'll have them on laying-duty. Half cover, half setting it up."[/b][/color] [color=Silver]The two looked at each other for a while whilst Alexander reached into the Sergeant's pocket and took out his own flask, before downing the contents. He creased at the bitterness, instead tasting alcohol over water. There, he spat it to the floor and tutted at him. He handed it back and, before heading out into the wilds of the trench to meet his people at the supply trench in the support line, he grimly bellowed back at the Sergeant.[/color] [color=0AB100][b]"And fix your liquid formality, you drunken bastard!"[/b][/color]