At the Basepohl air base the 5th Combat Helicopter Squadron was alerted in a surprisingly calm fashion. There were much less men at the base, and most of them were technicians. Walther and Wolfgang were awoken and informed that they had to defend the power of the Workers and Peasants from NATO agression, which was Propaganda for "Go blow shit up". With the alarm sounding thoughout the GDR they put on their equipment, grabbed something to eat and went to the Mi-24 that was waiting for them. Walter took lead. His gait made him seem like he had a rough night with another male the previous night; he seemed a bit nervous and jittery as well. He had plenty of training, but the real deal was still quite a bit different from all the training and drilling.

Wolfgang got into the gunner's seat and did a systems check - all green. He closed the canopy and looked around. The hind was a massive helicopter, an impressive machine, but that didn't mean it was capitalist fire-proof. He looked around and checked in. They were ordered to support the GDR-Soviet advance on Hamburg, a major port city. They were kicked straight into a major battle. Walther climbed into the pilot's seat. doing the same systems check. Better safe than sorry. He closed his canopy as well before initiating the take-off procedure.

"Straight on to Hamburg. We're probably tossing quite a few troops at the city. There's no way we can lose this.". Wolfgang sounded excited but nervous as the Hind took off. "Let's hope for a good hunt."

''I am confident it will be.'' As Walther said this, the Hind removed itself from the ground little by little, slowly taking off with an impressive amount of noise and dust whipped up by the rotors. They flew, just like the rest of the squadron, in the direction of Hamburg. During the flight they received the news that West Berlin had fallen without much resistance, which was a huge morale boost not only for them, but for the entire NVA. Around two hours later, still in severe darkness, they arrived at their destination. Here they would refuel their helicopters, stretch their legs, and then go out to do their duty to the German Democratic Republic, and smash the traitors. But first, where's the closest bush?

[b][center]Meanwhile, in Seedorf[/center][/b]

The night of 10-11 November was, in Thomas' words, "Kankerkoud". The men of the 41st Tank batallion had mostly settled into their sleeping bags already, but Thomas couldn't sleep since he just chugged a pint of beer and a load of deep-fried food as well as not being tired. Remaining awake for hours he was finally dozing off around 0115 when he heard a group of radio operators running across the hallway shouting in a distressed tone. While it woke the less steady sleepers up, Thomas flipped shit. "HET IS GODVERDOMME PAS KWART OVER EEN, KUNNEN JULLIE BEUNHAZEN JE BEK DICHTHOUDEN?!", he shouted throughout the dormitory - waking everyone up. It was raining insults in his general direction, but then one of the radio operators kicked the door in and shouted even louder. "WAKKER WORDEN, VODDEBALEN! HET IS OORLOG!" Nobody even bothered to respond, but jumped out of their sleeping bags and threw their stuff on.

Quintis, being a light sleeper, already found himself awake from the initial rain of insults. He grumbled something before shouting ''IK PROBEER HIER TE SLAPEN'', then attempted to head back to sleep... Until the radio operators kicked the door in. He quickly joined everyone in the throwing on of the stuff. David found himself still awake, sitting on his new ride's engine deck. He had spent the day prior cramming some personal belongings into the thing, and couldn't sleep now. He had a... Premonition, as it were, that shit was about to hit the fan. Actually, he was just having trouble falling asleep, but a premonition just sounds more interesting.

Senior officers were already busy communicating with nearby units as the men of the 41st Brigade ran to their tanks. "Voor Koningin en Vaderland!", Hendrik shouted to wake himself up. Knowing there was absolutely no time to do trivial things, he stuffed all the things he needed into his sleeping bag, folded it and threw it over his shoulder. He barely put his boots on, let alone tied them, he didn't even button his shirt, but he just put his beret on in the proper fashion and legged it. When he did so, Thomas got up and essentially did the same, except that he put his beret under his shoulder stripe and put his sunglasses on. Because the door was crammed, he jumped out of the window and grabbed Hendrik's shoulders. "Waar is Quintis?!", Thomas inquired in a rather loud and uncivilised way. 

"Die komt wel, waar staan wij?", Hendrik asked.

"Geen probleem, zoek David met z'n oogpotlood op de motor!"

Turns out Thomas was right, David was sitting on the engine deck - But not with eyeliner. Both men tossed their sleeping bags in the turret bustles and climbed in - careful not to even touch the guitars. Hendrik got in first, crashing on a thawing bag of fries. When Thomas jumped in next to him he held up in front of him, looking on in disbelief. "Had je 'm niet ergens anders neer kunnen leggen?" He threw the bag at Thomas who stuffed it away. "We hebben andere problemen!", he said as he looked out to see Quintis arrive at the tank. "Als de bliksem naar binnen!"

Quintis rushed to the tank, climbing onto the vehicle without any effort. Getting inside, though, took a bit more effort. David looked up at his driver, silently enjoying the sight of their own giant trying to cram himself into the tank. As soon as Quintis was inside, he descended into the turret as well, taking his position in the commander's seat.

Sarcastically, Thomas handed him a mirror as Hendrik looked at where Thomas put the fries. A wide assortiment of snacks, deep frying fat, and a bunch of personal belongings were there. It would be rather cosy in the tank, if it weren't for the little detail that World War Three had just started. Hendrik turned the radio on, listening to the chatter as he properly tied his shoelaces and fixed his shirt. When he was done, he closed the hatch above him and sat back. Whatever happened only God knew, but it'd change world history forever. David wasn't terribly concerned with world history. He was concerned with his eyeliner. Quintis was concerned with actually finding a comfortable position, something which proved more or less impossible with his great height. The radio chatter stopped, catching the attention of everyone but David, who wasn't finished with his eyeliner. World War Three could wait for him, but not for the commanding officer of their squadron, who was calling out to his troops. "Attentie, eskadron A, rij naar de bekende posities op het Elbe-Seitenkanaal zodra ik uw naam noem, over. " He ran down the tanks in his squadron to make sure their communications were functioning, until he reached their tank. They called it Henk, but officially it was known as 'Al Capone'.

After sorting out his new wave look, David immediately went to work on contacting the captain, assuming the other three crew members knew what to do now. "U komt binnen als een baksteen, ritmeester. Luid en duidelijk, over." He put the radio away. ''... Elbe-Seitenkanaal. Quintis, doe je ding.'' David simply said. Quintis knew damn well where he was supposed to go now, and soon enough, the tank's engine came to life with a deafening roar.

[hider=translation]
"IT'S A FUCKING QUARTER PAST ONE, CAN YOU IDIOTS SHUT YOUR FACES?!"
"WAKE UP, HOBOS, WE'RE AT WAR!`
"I'M TRYING TO SLEEP HERE"
"For Queen and Fatherland!"
"Where is Quintis?"
"He'll turn up, where are we?"
"No problem, look for David on the engine with the eye pencil"
"Couldn't you have put it somewhere else?"
"We've got other problems."
"Attention, sqadron A, move out to the known position on the Elbe-Seitenkanaal when I call out your name, over."
"Coming in like a brick, Captain. Loud and clear, over."
"Elbe-Seitenkanaal, Quintis. Work your magic." [/hider]