FourtyTwo

World War 2 RP - 1946?

Woah. Woah, woah. I like the fucking sound of this. I genuinely think you are onto something here- this is brilliance. Count me in- it couldn't be a nation-RP in my view, and that's the only flaw- where to begin with? I mean, a normal army unit couldn't work, so I can only imagine that perhaps the Secret Services are the places to start- perhaps among the OSS, and the Soviet and British equivalents, perhaps even exploring the themes of Germany's rapid development of munitions and supplies (ie. the mass-production of Me 262s and the huge outgunning of Soviet Yaks in response, and so forth) to really illustrate the idea. Or perhaps a larger-scale political RP, not nation, but political- among people such as Stalin, Churchill and their various aides and ambassadors. I mean, it's a lot of ground to cover- I really like the concept and idea, it's just where to fit. Special Operations? Meh...but you have to have V2s, V3s even, shit, throw in all the stuff that the Nazis had on the drawing board as things that were perhaps on the brink of a production, and I think you could suddenly see a very, very different outlook on the world.

In regards to Japan, nuke or no nuke? I can only assume that the continuum is still the same in the Pacific, as the Germans basically cut support to them in time, and that the Japanese surrendered, leaving Nazi Germany (or rather, a mostly de-SS-ified Germany) as a significant force that could at any moment, throw it's lot in with the West and fight the Soviets. I mean, the formation of the French Fourth Republic (I think), the idea of Norway and Finland (Norway having a strong Nationalist influence) both seeing the fallout of Nazis pulling out, and seeing perhaps Communist influences in their resistance movements (imagine the Norwegian resistance being infiltrated by the NKVD...yeah, it doesn't need thinking of).

So you see my interest in the wider area of things- and I think that while I can't say that I alone can solve the idea of how we come into this, you can put me in as a person who takes a great intrest in what would happen- and you're the first person who I think who's finally put across some sort of legible idea about the Nazis. You haven't a Wolfenstein New Order though, no spoilers, or in that regards, this sudden idea that a Cold War wouldn't happen, and the Nazis would be superior- they're merely a third party, which I find cool (leaning though). Though I think I'd shit myself laughing if it DID go ahead and have Nazi Ubersoldaten, and so on and so on :D

Able Archer: 1983

SyrianHamster said
EDIT: I know Konrad mentioned that a PACT air assault was definitely under way, but I want to know what kind of resistance Eckhardt's assigned column is going to meet initially? Will they find loads of burned out structures, mingled with downed Migs? Or will they find the Brits waiting for them, untouched and ready to receive?

When Janusz's team is on the ground, they'll be the first in the aftermath of artillery fire on Lubeck and the surrounding areas. Since Lubeck Airfield is seen as a priority target, bombing it heavily or shelling it isn't really an option- and hence the Airborne to clear it out and hold as a potential Forward Air Operating Position. Though they do have some CAS in the form of the Hinds and Su-25s in area, and will eventually roll along to Lubeck itself to continue once friendly motorized units break through to their position. While the East doesn't use Maneuver Warfare a lot, helicopter-based teams were in use, and it lends itself to the more rapid nature of an airborne brigade- as a shock troop, not a hammer blow tanker-type force.

Able Archer: 1983

5km South of of Wismar, East Germany
2nd "Błyskawica" Battalion , 6th Airborne Brigade

Some shitty Polish music played in the helicopter, over the loudspeaker, as the helicopters flew in about 50m over the water, the forested area below close to the lake a nice area, in this nice winter's day. The Pilot in particular liked this, as the Mi-24W, both the doors in the back opened up to let some air in. The other chopper was keeping formation, and also had it's doors open, the two Hinds above Lake Schwerin imposing enough, and they were Polish.
"We need to turn this shit off, badly. Put a cassette of some Led Zep in, I tell you." Janusz said, the helicopters banked right, headed towards the coast, and moreover, to the bank of the lake where the battalion of paratroopers had set up.
"Ah, you know what would happen though, Sierżant- they'd cut us open when we arrived. Plus the pilot likes this, and I don't want a pissed off pilot." Michal said, the second in command, as the soldier behind him, Viktor, looked back. He had a PKM in his hands, pointed downwards of course, laughing a little at it.
"Oh come on, you know what it is like. Those American war movies, when they are in Vietnam, music from two decades ago playing from their helicopters. Haha, those fuckers actually lost against people with Chinese replicas! Pew pew pew!" Viktor laughed, as he aimed his PKM out the door, making the noise that brought most of the squad inside to laugh at least to some degree, Michal a little more serious.
"I'm just saying, it would't work, we'd have our balls in our mouths. Sierżant, what's our plan of action after we hit the concrete?" Michal asked, as the helicopter slowed down, headed right for the landing zone.
"Battalion commander will update us on the situation, we've got work to do. Be ready for combat- things look shitty, looks like we're going to get deployed with the Hinds, so expect the worst. "

This place wasn't on an airfield- it was within a large former Nazi military compound south of Wismar itself, that had been one of the last to surrender in the Second World War. Particularly, it was a significant Polish deployment base, from which Błyskawica was deployed from, or at least, a large proportion of it. The base was quite an open area, but heavily fenced, and was predominantly a military heliport of sorts, with a very short open concrete landing zone that most helicopters came down on and moved to park from. The Hind's landing gear came down, as they hit the floor, the helo still moving as they rolled a little, pulling slightly to a small grass section, the other Hind following in neatly, as their own came to a stop.
"All out! Go, go!" The helicopter stopped, as Janusz led the way, the other one coming over, as the blades of the Mi-24 kept spinning, before slowly shutting down, the helicopter armed to the teeth, being a new addition to the Polish People's Army. Walking away from the helicopter, Fireteam Czerwone in tow, he moved out from the landing zone to regroup with the other team, Janusz himself carrying his AKMS and RPG-72 on his back, seeing the other fireteam disembark. It was risky getting both the first and second in command in one helicopter, but it was something that had resulted from the other fireteam being collected from elsewhere, following a mess of a redeployment. Now, they were regrouping as their regular force, and Janusz was in command.
"On me, lads." Janusz added, as they headed towards the interior of the base, Mi-17s flying past, as Janusz kept his eye out for the Battalion commander, They were getting briefed and readied, as the first forces on the ground following the Special Forces and other rapid deployment forces in area.

The situation to the Poles had come clear, and it seemed pretty harrowing. NATO had attacked the Warsaw Pact's forces and were infringing on their territory, at least 5 kilometers in, apparently. It meant war- and retaliation had to be swift and decisive. It was what they planned for, but co-ordination was key. The briefing had been to the point, and the dark grey Moro camoflage that Janusz's unit wore told most what they needed to know, about their role. Not special forces, but the first to fight, and a Hammer blow of a force when deployed correctly. They moved back to the helicopters, Janusz clear he'd have a brief quickly over with his men, though the noise was pretty bad.
"As you heard, we're moving to Lubeck Airfield, to take out any NATO fast air that isn't already engaging ours, and to take the airfield as an operational asset for us. The runway there is important, and roughly a couple of platoons are deployed there. We're going to be calling both our Su-25 fighter support thanks to our friendly Soviets, and we know that most major SAM and Anti-Aircraft has been dealt with- but not all. Special Forces already made a dent in the side of some NATO operations near Lubeck- though the harbor there has been wrecked it seems, and if it's Scorched Earth that NATO want to play, we're in a race to keep this airfield intact. The helicopters will continue to provide fire support for us- but we'll have a 800m hike to reach our OP, expect a rough landing." Janusz said, as he checked his AKMS again, looking to the choppers.
"We've identified a clearing, and 6th, 7th and 8th Platoons of the Battalion are support units, working from the north-east and the south-east of the airfield. We go from the West- and strike right into the defunctional terminal and main core of operations. The platoons will have little armored support on hand, and aerial support is unavailible- let's make it happen, lads. Bialy, you take that Hind, we'll take this one Czerwone. Let's go!" Janusz said, as they moved with a certain pace, the helicopters firing up, as the two Hinds were quickly back in the air, the noise of jets and other helicopters filling the air. The rest of the airmobile company in particular were using Mi-17 "Hip" Helicopters, for a greater capacity, and within minutes, they were making huge headway.

"Command receiving, this is Mlotek Actual, we're in the 1K zone, we are roughly five minutes out to Landing Zone Goral, over."
"Understood Mlotek, continue as planned. Get your Forward Controller in the team to ready the Close Air firemissions when needed ,we have a limited set of close support available over the next half an hour on Lubeck Airfield. Resistance should be minimal- most aircraft have either been destroyed on the taxiway, or are airborne. Airspace is contested, but we have friendly aircraft en route to reaffirm and hold the airspace over your region." Battalion command replied, the doors on the Mi-24 shut for good reason- this was a combat helicopter, and the use of munitions within it, without the ear defenders, would leave them deaf.
"Affirmative, loud and clear. Mlotek Actual out." Janusz said, as they crossed the border, headed over a canal diverted from the mighty Elbe river.
"Two minutes to LZ! We're flagging enemy UH-1 aircraft, standby..." Janusz heard, as suddenly, the noise of a loud whoosh could be heard of a single , as the helicopter flanked hard left, and the other hard right. They pulled in close, and despite countermeasures, the two UH-1 Iroquois were quickly swept off, perhaps not realizing that the combination of the Polish, Soviet and GDR armies were now sweeping in both on land and air in a big, big way.

The Mi-24 rocked a little, as the pilot dumped speed and kept the chopper low, now almost brushing the pines as they swept round, circumnavigating the airfield from the south, as they approached a reasonable clearing, that was able to accommodate two Hinds, but probably nothing larger than that. The gear went down again, and the doors opened, the men inside quiet, due to the loud nature of the chopper.
"Go, go!" Janusz said, as his team disembarked, the helicopter taking flight above the treeline again, the noise of the frontal Yak-B cannon erupted, and in a loud way.
"The fuck's going on!" Jakub yelled, one of his men, as the helicopter kept on engaging, the other one landing rapidly and almost too rapidly, as the men emerged, and moved quickly, the helicopter leaving the ground.
"Crap...this isn't good. Biskup (Bishop, Mi-24W Section), what the fuck is actually going on?" Janusz asked, as Michal got his end of the fireteam ready, the six men covering an area ahead, as Michal looked to his.
"We're seeing enemy movements directly west of you, seems like we were loud and bought your attention, we guess around half a platoon's worth of movement and they've got us in view. We need to replan our flight path and provide fire from a different angle. They're moving through the pine forests, towards the airfield peremeter fence about 200m east of you- there's a forest between then and there, we can send a few S-8 salvos to keep them off your back. How copy Mlotek?"
"Understood, Biskup, we're working on it. Continue with fire support, waste these men and keep any mechanized units from our back. We'll do the rest, thanks for the heads up." Janusz said, as he looked over.
"Everyone, ready for contact front! Looks like we have them loud and clear, let's not let them down. Machinegunners, stick on the flanks and keep up the main volley of fire from a fixed position- everyone else, keep advancing and use the trees for cover! We'll let our Hinds sweep the worst, and we'll cut down the rest!" Janusz added, as he moved out, the squad moving quickly as they headed through the forest at a combat pace, the noise of heavy gunfire right close to them and above them evident. British soldiers could be seen ahead- they looked like they were British Army, and by no doubt, not a part of this exercise. And sure as hell, they knew that this was a Warsaw Bloc advance. Their vehicles had been torn apart, but they were moving from the tented command post on the southern end of the taxiway, to where the Poles were waiting. And what the Hinds didn't clear, the Poles did.

Able Archer: 1983

Haha, you got that fucking right. Poles, ESPECIALLY in the 80s, were asking for the end of it all through Solidarnosc (or Solidarity), which basically toppled Communist Sat elite States in Eastern Europe, and brought it about. We hated the Russians, and even Janusz is there not for some shitty Soviet-backed Socialist cause, just his country and a reliable living he likes. If it wasn't for the fact that he liked his country and his job, he'd drop guns. But to say the least, he won't like the West Germans. For most part, even East Germans in general. But if they roll in to reinforce their gains, then he'll be cool about it.

Juggernauts (BigPapaBelial and kingkonrad) IC

The minutes passed, over the snowy and desolate terrain, as the Growler kept hauling ass. bumpy as anything over the terrain, the GPS showing they were almost 500m away from the designated point.
"Almost there!" Jenny yelled, as they went over a particularly large bump, Ross thrown up a little as he held the gun, cursing.
"Fucking women drivers." Ross said, laughing like anything and saying it in a particular manner that would piss her off, as Jenny just held it in, hearing the comment too much yet knowing that she drove better than most men that had undergone the Advanced Vehicle training. She'd like to see Ross try driving over a boulderfield close to a glacier, she thought to herself.
"Yeah, yeah...we're here. Ross, I'm going to kick you in the balls when you get out of that thing, and it's going to be a fucking good one. Now we wait." Jenny said, the Growler coming to almost a dead stop, as they skidded on the snow, the sight of a few rocks and a unremarkable site visible, but only just. The clear morning was now beginning to fill with fog, as slowly and surely, it filled the area, and was getting stronger by the minutes. It was surprising to see, but something they had to deal with.
"Well...where are they.." Jenny said, as suddenly, two white things emerged from an alcove, where Andrew and Nolan had hid under the overhang. Andrew had gotten a little colder, but his body temprature rose a little when he moved up, the XM500 in both hands, the heavy .50 cal carried as he jumped down some rocks, looking at the vehicle with the three Juggernauts.
"Surprise motherfuckers!" Andrew said, moving down the rocks, laughing a little as she looked over, Ross pointing the gun sideways and almost levelling it on them two when he saw something rise in the corner of his visor, a little panicked but then realizing it was friendlies.
"Cordite! Get your asses over here, you look cold." Ross said, as he checked the perimeter with the M2 Browning, the two snipers moving briskly down as Andrew looked over at the three.
"Good to see you. So now what? We on the quads or with you?" Andrew asked, cutting down straight to it, as he looked around, the large .50 cal rifle in his hand something that even with a shortened barrel due to the bullpup, was still significant. Ross looked over, just starting to explain.
"Well basically..." He said, as he was interupted, the noise of a voice on the other end coming in.
"Knight, Cordite, this is Merlin. Callsigns Brute and Bear are being redeployed further down the valley, the fog's getting worse, we can hardly operate any air transport. You can probably see it- it's sweeping in quick, so they're relocating. They took a beating in clearing a significant command post, but they say they're still willing to take on Tempest with you. Sending you GPS co-ordinates of their new dropzone- it's far further down the mountain, you guys are on your own for now."
"Understood, Merlin. We're moving out." Ross said, as he looked back at the two snipers.
"Jump the back- the quads are a liability, we can't have them down there. It's going to get bumpy." He added, Andrew leading the way as he moved quickly, running around to the back of the vehicle as he clambered in behind Ross, up on the gun, Andrew himself taking his hood off and his balaclava, to get some cold winter air on his face. Jenny hit the gas, the vehicle already moving

---

Natalie adjusted herself in her suit, following refuelling, back over the mountains.
"We're being redeployed, apparently. Mountains according to a friendly Osprey that was there a few minutes ago wasn't too suitable as an LZ for us because of the fog to move from on our feet, and besides, I like the idea of direct action more. They're deploying us further down the mountain- a hotter LZ, but it's about a kilometer out from Fort Tempest, and we'll be on our own. No significant gun runs, or large-scake fire support till the rest of the team comes. Besides, we want this Fort intact- no dumb fire missions to level it, in case we take out half the local population, so the best we'll get is maybe an Apache to help us. But hey, that's fine by me." She said, as she clicked her hands, herself feeling at least cooled down, after she burnt herself.
"You know, I knew that woman. A bit. I mean, it doesn't surprise me one bit. Lots of rumors going round that she killed Qaddafi and then ran for the money, and that the guy that died on the streets was a double. I could have gone into his Amazon Guards if I asked I think, mauled him with my titties myself. What a horrible human being. Both of them. Wait...you know, both of them?" Natalie said, chuckling a little, as she knew that the innuendo had slipped through, though it was a little dark, and perhaps something a little too open.
"Ah well...I suppose I've got more than enough ammunition. Might request for a new suit altogether to get setup for me, you know, move on. Yours could still work, but I always wanted something like yours, but with a more femme touch to it, my working. If it works for you, then it can work for me, just fine." She said, a loud noise yet no flames being heard, as Natalie's face held the worst of it in, feeling her rear rumble. Pearl Jam played over the stereo in the back of the Chinook, and Natalie, adjusting the shot-up Beret on her faceplate, smirked.
"It's far better than our shit in Russia. Far, far better. You Americans always do some things right, but I wonder what you'd be like in the VDV, if you weren't that big. Now our Paratroopers...they have courage I tell you, I mean I went through the process and myself, made them efficient killing machines. Badly armed, yes, killing machines, most definitely- no Chechen could stop them if you gave us the right drop zone and rifles. The men are good fun, especially when they're your bitch. They were my bitches. Hmm...when you tell a whole plane full of men pumped so full of testosterone that you'd throw them out one by one without a parachute if the first man faulters and they believe you, you know you're feared. Maybe there is sexism in the institution. Good thing I'm physical evidence that it doesn't..well, exist that much now." Natalie said, laughing a little, as she sat up, checking the scenery out the back door, the two warpainted faces of the two Super Heavies clear to see. She kept her lightening pattern, the blue and red starking, yet nothing too ridiculous. It looked more like it fitted someone like her, something appropriate, like Victor's was for him.
"When we're done with this, we're going to fuck like nothing else. I don't know how we can top before, but between us...we can figure something out, my big Brute. Anyway, business before pleasure. We have a lot to deal with, before we get a lot of the latter." Natalie said playfully, as she checked the M134, bringing it up on her lap, as the Chinook came in.
"We're coming in! LZ is hot as the fucking spicy chilies I got in the post, there's fucking hundreds of these bastards!" The crew chief on one of the M134s on the side of the Chinook said, Natalie laughing as she put down her visor, engaging her HUD as she brought up her own M134.
"Good thing I've got another minigun then. Hold us steady. Down we go." Natalie said, as she looked out the rear door, coming down on some sort of house roof, as a relatively safe LZ compared to most of the others. Moving out the back, Natalie knew it was a meter drop, but something they could deal with, onto a low one-storey roof. It was fine, even with the weight, she thought to herself, as the Chinook's rear and side gunners opened up, laying down fire. As she lept out the rear, aware she'd hit the roof, one thing quickly occurred to her. That wasn't a sandstone, or a mudbrick, or even a very strong wooden structure. It had a corregated roof.
"Shiit!"

She slammed through the structure, making a giant-sized hole, aware that Victor would follow. And as luck would have it, they fell right in front of a pair of insergents, Natalie landing right on her side, on her shoulderplate and in some ways, her rucksack. The terrorist screamed loudly in Arabic, and fired AK rounds at her, the bullets pinging off, as it made her angry, and she got up with a ferocious, adrenaline induced movement, the early morn not something she was still in her prime within. The Spetsnaz Machete on her left arm, by the reinforced GPS, was already out, and it was a bash, slash, stab and generally, fuck shit up weapon. And oversized. Natalie simply took the close range rounds, walking towards him as the man realized it was pointless, as she then lashed out a strong kick in the moment his mind was still struggling to comprehend what he saw, and walked over, thinking.
"Futility is horrible, isn't it?" She said, as she bent over, popping her visor temporarily as she stabbed the man hard in the throat, the man's grabs pointless to her, as she saw a mist of blood arise, and go on her face. She put her visor down, and looked back.
"FUCK! Let's fucking go!" She said, as she walked back, offering a hand to Victor, and then headed towards the other corner of the shack, kicking a metal door in with significant force, already firing the M134 up. She felt bloodlust rise, and it felt eerily familiar.

Emerging into the open courtyard, which would have been a fraction too small for the Chinook to make a safe drop or landing, Natalie took out at least six individuals on an adjacent building, letting Victor follow up, as she took the point, the half slum, half undeveloped village a small dot on the map by Fort Tempest, and something that was literally full of OPFOR enemies. Plenty to kill, her mind thought to itself, as she kept up the fire, rounds spewing as the noise of the weapon sounded like a genuinely pleasurable noise. It was like Thor's lightening bolts, in comparison to the Thunder of the XM312 that Victor wielded, the boom to her light.
"Now, we rearrange this place! Victor, you want point? We're headed down the hill, towards the fortification- we'll have to scrap any exterior defenses with some 30mm guns first, or else we'll get RPG'd to shreds- let's take our time shall we?" Natalie said, feeling the bullets ping as what felt like a whole squad of soldiers fired their AK-12s and AKMs at the two, the bullets harmess even though a lot of their armor had taken a hit. They weren't backing down, not today at least.

Task Force Hephaestus

No problem, I think it might be blurred on the map, but I think it is called that- Nisi rather than Nial. Nice post by the way- if you want, you can incorporate any elements of stuff you'd want Zdislav to see- they are predominantly on recon, but I like the way you encapsulated the air. It's a lot of panicking and tension among NATO forces- things really have gone to shit, and from the way that most of NATO forces look after running away from being shelled and gun-runned by AAF Buzzards, they're pretty screwed. As you know, Husky under Huscarl isn't there for only helping NATO, due to ulterior motives that they don't really know about- and though I don't want to spoiler anything, what you saw between Patterson and Huscarl isn't the worst of it.

Likewise with RPC- but I've PM'd about a few tiny kinks which just get up in my perfectionist streak a little. Skyth can tell you about this, don't worry! :D

Heavy Nazis, Heavy Guns- Restarted (ONL and kingkonrad)

"I suppose not." Victoria said, as she looked down on Rudolph, aware that the metal walls, while a little echo-y, would keep the noise in, on the most half. Not much more needed to be said of the few hours they spent, letting him take the lead.

---

(Grimsey, by the way, is a island off the northern coast of Iceland. Very, very far north- it is actually on the border line of the Arctic Circle)

29th November, 1943
0300 Hours
Somewhere close to Grimsey Island, Iceland

The U-Boat stuck deep, and quiet, rumbling under the waters that many freighters felt scared to run on. Akureyri saw ships enter in and out, but the winter was hitting hard, and many of the encampments already saw a growing proportion of soldiers dying from hypothermia and cold-related problems. But under these waters, you wouldn't tell if you were in the tropics or under the Arctic Ocean- this was the North Atlantic for what Sturm Adler and Victoria knew, as she led the way of the pair. She wore her uniform over her tactical suit, as Sturm Adler, suited up, followed the femme fatale.
"You always thought I must have been passive, ja? I mean, I always sat at base and gave you support. Turns out that was just a stopgap, I mean, for a long while, I wanted to become operationally involved. But perhaps, the frame of a female is not as suitable as the typical Aryan man, so I have a different method, if you know what I mean." She said, looking back at him, as she opened a hatch, clambering down some stairs, as they headed towards the front, the torpedo room. It was empty, bar one or two Mariners.

A large Atmospheric Diving Suit of some sort, that had been hugely changed and modified (a MG42 instead of the gun there, and a cleaner sort of appearance with the air hoses, the back being a pair of huge air tanks and so on) sat in one of the corners by a large opened crate. An MG42 sat on the right arm, and it stood about a little larger than Victoria did, though modifications within the legs and arms bulked up the suit, clearly the motorized system.
"That's the thing. It's an atmospheric diving suit, built to withstand the pressures of the deep. I'll call out on radio what my callsign, let's keep it quiet for now. It's roughly between what Vampire has and what Tyrant has in terms of armor, I'm guessing- it can take a good beating, but it is not built solely for it. It's the best that the designers in the Kriegsmarine can develop for a requirement to dive deep and far below any detection. Now, the North Atlantic Ridge, some geological thing apparently, makes a seriously steep drop to almost 2,500m before the landmass of Grimsey and Iceland comes to about 300 meters deep, so we're going to need to use a set of water thrusters to make sure we don't sink to the bottom. You'll probably die if you drop below 700m- though I'll have to wait till about 1,300m before my suit becomes compromised. You'll feel a little squeezed, but yours should be fine, after Dr Ludwig's modifications. Don't let it panic you- you'll just use up more oxygen, and so on and so on. Follow me, and you should be fine." Victoria said, the Mariners checking a pair of oversized torpedoes, that were clearly developed for only one reason- to carry a payload of two very heavily armored soldiers. She moved over towards a desk, and retrieved a Gewehr 43 Rifle, with an attached Vampir optical sight and a silencer on the end of it, that had been particularly developed for this rifle- making it capable of ranges of up to 500m as a silent sniper rifle. A Sten MkII Silenced, or the MP 751 (e) as an adapted German weapon, was also on the table, and had been modified considerably, eliminating the flaw of the SMG overheating under sustained fire as well as being far more accustomed to Victoria's hands. Yet the only noise this thing made when the shots were fired was the firing pin being hit, and the target perhaps being a little..noisy, if they were hit non-lethally. But Victoria always made sure of the latter. Lastly, a Welrod, her last silent weapon, was the last to find it's way into her suit, tucked into a reinforced bulky cabinet on the rear, by a reinforced battery and a hefty oxygen tank, which suited itself to prolonged periods of diving. More than perhaps Sturm Adler's would last, as it seemed a purpose-built device. She retrieved knives, grenades and other explosives, packing them in, as she checked the specialized and reinforced MG42, jacketed up in a metal casing and connected to a large ammunition store on the suit's mid back. She looked over at Sturm Adler, who's underwater equipment was not specialized, but would be required- an oxygen tank and a connection to the already existing supply in the suit would be required, as well as the water thrusters that would at least keep them from sinking. The ones on her suit were similar to what Tyrant would have in their size- they had to be particularly brutal, in order not to sink like a brick into waters far too deep.

"Check your oxygen supply, have it ready. It may be something new to you, but once you realize how incredible the feeling is, you'll long to return. Remember, the pressure will crush you like a tin can if the suit becomes compromised in any way- 600m is deep enough for us to linger at without Allied Shipping seeing us." She said to him, as she walked back to hers, the suit about a few inches taller than her, and a little wider. Taking her uniform off, her infiltration equipment on with a Welrod at her hip and her...well, tasteful rear visible to Sturm Adler due to the nature of her infiltrator's suit. She clambered in, detaching the helmet as she put it back down once completely in, sealing the suit as the entire thing whirred up, and her arms vaguely connected. A remote firing had been set up for the MG42- many things felt like they had been developed from Project Tyrant, and been incorporated into the development of the diving suit. Perhaps more things would come across from Viking's and Tyrant's projects, over to the others in the 505th perhaps. But even in this thing, Victoria knew she was no Tyrant- she was a little more bulky and a little larger a target than Sturm Adler, perhaps with only a little more protection. The U-235 itself was in itself, a proof of what the Kriegsmarine had seen as a rapid development- and the great emphasis of submarine warfare had allowed them to deeper, and far, far more below the surface than ever before, this almost going to a maximum operating depth of 500m- far, far deeper than many submarines had ever gone before. The fact that their suits were made of such high grade material, and designed with such precision in mind to tolerate such pressure, was something which at the time, did astound Victoria. This was a nation that was making technological quantum leaps, and it felt like anyone that was on the other side wasn't going to have a chance.
"Okay..all feels good, with me, Sturm Adler. Operational Channel from here on out- You're in the other tube, since you can't share I'm afraid. And it's like a fucking steam cooker in here..." She said, being a tease to the man that she knew she could perhaps call an "interest", to a very specific degree, as she felt the heat kick against her suit. Though she knew she had to disembark at a point and go out into almost -20 degrees of cold, getting some heat into her body and then moving out, would work. The fact that the skin-tight infiltrator suit was heavily thermally insulated didn't look obvious, but even clothing of this type was getting more and more future-like, she thought to herself, and she'd feel a little chilly in this thing, but not freezing.

Moving over, the suit's metal feet making a loud clanking on the metal floor, she began to crawl into one of the torpedo tubes, with the assistance of one of the mariners. She backed in, legs first, as she kept her arms high, the mere fact that this was the way it was a little strange, but something she had to get used to. The nosecone was slid back on with a pair of exploding bolts, to detach it once the torpedo had travelled at least 20km, the whole thing fueled up and a long-range operation. She sat back, checking communications, as she felt the tube be lifted, another group of Mariners placing it into the firing rack, as she felt the whole mechanism jump.
"Well...if this is what being fired out of a cannon feels like, I'll stick to wearing this sort of stuff. Callsign's Swordfish, Sturm Adler. I'll see you in the water- look for the light. Oh, and don't worry about depth charges. We're fathoms below any, and you wonder why the Allies haven't figured out submarine warfare truly yet." Swordfish said, looking out her visor into the blackness, a giant yellow light mounted on her shoulder- disengaged for the moment, as she hummed something to herself, then feeling a giant rush. as the whole thing propelled, with a loud crank and a sudden whirring. On the scale of things, the submarine and the torpedo that had been fired was insignificant, but the occupants of the next fired torpedo that was sent alongside, and the one ahead, were more significant than any Allied force would think.
"I'd love to tell you how much sweat there is inside this thing around my breasts, but I think we've gotten all the...well, hot talk over earlier. Let's just stick to business. I suppose once we hit ground, I'll be running around shooting anything that seems to be a threat to our progress, patrols and the like with my silenced equipment. Only use the silenced FG42 to eliminate anything that comes close- and remember, don't make too much noise. Once the charges are down, you return the favour, escort me back to this thing, and we'll clear the rest of the island's AA defenses out, before calling the Fallschrimjager to finish the job and for us to drop back into the deeps of the ocean. By that time, they should have the rest ready with that submersible of theirs, I hope so at least, and we'll be off to the mainland. You'd be surprised at what they teach you to do back in Britain..shame not a lot of my comrades saw the same, and instead, are now dead." Victoria said, chuckling at first, aware that teasing Sturm Adler did partly piss him off, but was something he enjoyed, and she went for that sweet spot at times. She felt for him- more than she did for Reinhard, just because he wasn't so undisclosed, and perhaps more attentive, and not so loud and unthoughtful. Not so distorting and getting in the way of her personality, he listened to her, and she knew he enjoyed it. It was perhaps something her personality took- a much more independent and thinking woman, not some object. And it was that perhaps that made her feel right about Rudolph, to feel at ease with him. Thoughts like these helped her to pass the time, inside a reinforced and motorized heavy atmospheric diving suit that was within a torpedo, about half a kilometer under the North Atlantic Ocean, above a giant ridge of sorts a couple of thousand meters below, that separated the European and North American parts of the world. Things, at least to her, didn't look like they were getting any more sensible anytime soon. This was progress, and more than that, this was the victory she craved.

Task Force Hephaestus

Huscarl looked over, already aware that what they had done was a little far-fetched, but something they had to do. Bundling the box into the rear compartment of the SDV, he shut the door, kicking out to move to the front, where he just about saw two screens in the front, and the basic structure come to view. Grabbing a hold, Huscarl slid himself into the driver's seat, securing himself down inside as he looked over at the controls. It had been a long time since he'd piloted an SDV, but he had a vague, vague idea of how this worked. Like a miniature submarine, but easier on the ballast bit on how that worked out.
"Lights on...okay, Mischief, we're following suit, we'll need to keep this thing for later if things hit the fan." Huscarl said, aware that whilst Mischief couldn't hear him very well, it would probably get through. The rear propeller span up ,as he looked to his diving partner, already getting the SDV to pull out and away from the sunken shipwreck, Huscarl guessing the fight wasn't going to be easy.
"Nice one out there by the way. Fucking AAF scum...this was a long time coming, I bloody felt it." Huscarl added, as the SDV's front lights illuminated the sea floor ahead, the SDV moving quickly in the waters off the island, into Kyifi Bay and towards Tempest.

---

The noise of howitzer fire was heart-stoppingly scary. To SSgt William Patterson, who had been a few hours ago, talking to the CTRG operators, it wasn't a noise that he had heard in a long while, but he knew precisely what it was. They had left Rogain and the road mined, as planned, and despite being completely off-guard, they had stopped the first wave .Through what miracle, he didn't know, but the Platoon Commander, Lieutenant Andrews, of 2nd "Hoplite" Platoon was dead, and it left William in charge of what was now 18 men, down from 32 of Hoplite's original. To say the least, they had suffered heavy losses, and had barely enough equipment and survivability left in them. He looked back to his troops, three females and the rest men, all mixed in their roles and ability. They had one AA guy who had actually taken down one of the AAF's Buzzards, and the feat of downing a CAS jet was something that brought morale. Followed by this shelling. They were still moving with pace, barely catching breath now as they were hidden in the tree-lined valley leading to Tempest, aware that it was their only route out.

"Specialist Fitzroy, sitrep ahead?" Patterson said, as the pointman ran back, huffing and panting.
"Nothing...shit, nothing at all. We've got a scorched pair of trucks Sir, ION contractors. All dead." He said, as Patterson cursed. The very PMC that had been working in tandem with NATO forces hadn't even made it out. Only keeping formidable now would save their minds- they were in total rout, and they had little they could throw against the patrols of AAF Striders that now were going to Air Station Mike-26 and possibly beyond.
"Alright...look, my contact, Huscarl, said that we get to Tempest, we get a chance of holding our ground there and recouping whatever we can. Camp Maxwell and LZ Connor were almost completely packed, but 3rd and 4th hold the line there. And if Thunder's still in the game, maybe we got a chance of launching a counterattack later tonight. But we ain't got any officers, and communications is fucking short range, no externals. Dammit. Okay, platoon, form up a staggered column, 20m pacing, if it's a fucking Greenback, cap it." Patterson said, checking his MX 3GL in his hands, adjusting the optic slightly as he got his breath back, looking over at the rest of his men. Their uniforms looked tattered from dirt, and they were well battle-worn. The moon was fully out as the clouds slowly cleared and the rainy mist stopped, but it was still shit conditions, Patterson made no mistake.
"Motherfuckers." Fitzroy said, as he cocked his MXC, the JTAC holding behind Patterson, the Platoon moving out, as they swept through the valley, the crackling of twigs underfoot a silent noise, between the noise of loud explosions both close and in the distance.

"Contacts front, four men! Engage at will!" Patterson yelled, as he moved behind a tree, the staggered column already laying a suppressing volume of fire from the back, as Corporal Davis, the radiowoman turned Autorifleman, provided the majority of that from her MX SW, as well as PFC Wilson, who also sent a 40mil downrange to decimate a part of the patrol. The bullets flew past, but the AAF force had been caught more offguard in sweeping the forest out, and hadn't expected it. They were cleaned out, the four men downed as the remainder of the beaten back Platoon headed down, the four men little competition against 18 hardened 101st Airborne soldiers who had literally waded through hell.
Within three minutes, the team had swept through the valley, and moved forwards, seeing what was left of Tempest, as they covered each other's movements with a certain tactical observation of sorts. Patterson kept point, and was already into the tight combat, looking around. The main HQ had been blasted by a mortar round, and the two metal containers, Huscarl's billet totally destroyed whilst the other had been indirectly smashed, with the boats also sunken and destroyed. Surprisingly enough, the tents and the Hunter HMG under the camoflage netting were intact, with the main outer perimeter still defendable, including the the metal patrol tower which still stood with the mounted gun. It had been empty bar two men that had been responsible for defending, but they weren't anywhere to be seen. Patterson swung his MX over his shoulder, looking around as he adjusted his helmet.
"Well, this is it. Men, set up a defensive position on the northern side around the remainder of the fortifications- Fitzroy, you're up on that mounted gun in the tower, Wilson and Carter, you guys get the caches out of that partly demolished container, and then see what we have left in the shipping containers. If I last remember, we have a Hunter in pieces, so see if you can get the majority of the scrap parts out. Davis, get a table up with weapons and ammo for us to resupply from, we're going to need everything we got, then work back on our radios to see if there's anything else left since we routed. We hold here till either we run out of bullets, or we hear Blackfoots fly overhead. Get to it, gents!" Patterson said, as he looked around, looking over to the sea for a moment, before looking to the now completely demolished HQ building.
"Understood Sir!" She said, Corporal Anna Davis already moving out, the fact that her shortened hair and bruised face was one that could contend with the rest of the gents here suggesting that she held her own here, and in a situation like this, there wasn't anyone questioning her position. Nobody really questioned anything- they knew Patterson was what they had left, and they had to get to it.
"Where the fuck are they.." He muttered to himself, as he moved out to a position himself by one of the H-Barriers, to get a northern-facing position up.

---

Corporal Ian Stanley was what you'd expect from a Welshman, plus a little more. The L85A4, as well as the rest of his tank crew, were keeping eyes on, as LZ Connor teemed with activity. They didn't understand for some reason, why they hadn't been bombed- the luck of Hoplite downing a AAF A-143 Buzzard was unknown to them, and was why a firemission that was planned to wipe out the two remainder camps in the south from the map hadn't happened. For now though, everyone was buzzing, and nobody had a single clue what to do. It had been almost half an hour, and a single AAF patrol had been beaten back from LZ Connor, some SF unit or some shit like that, but they had taken the wrong approach and been on the wrong end of a combination of 4th Platooon, Bronco Squad, and Stanley's unit. But things still say in disarray, and as Stanley looked out of the watchtower, no NVGs on, his eyes fixated on what saw of the plumes of smoke. The base had taken some losses, but they were intact, mostly.
"So they're all dead then?" Lewis said, the gunner on the Marshall, the other guard on the tower. Chief Warrant Officer Liam Hartley was in charge of what was left of 4th "Vanguard" Platoon, and despite being all 16th Air Assault Brigade in their composition, Bronco Squad had ended up attached at LZ Connor, following a patrol gone bad. For what Ian knew, Camp Maxwell's 3rd "Crossbow" Platoon had made it through, despite heavy mortars, though the defensive force at Mike-26 had completely capitulated.
"1st and 2nd, not a chance. Dead." Ian coldly replied, looking over.
"Can't say that though, I mean, you know..."
"They bombed the shit out of Rogain, and there's no comms. No long range, short range works only to fucking...Tempest or so, if we restore it from here. NATO doesn't even know we're getting bombed and shelled, and back there, there's the Aegean Sea. Greenbacks had us this time, and we're sitting here, waiting till the next set of mortars gets it right from the Forward Observers. We need to sit the fuck up and do something. Get that Marshall out and kick some serious arse, get the fucking lads in. Then again, we're waiting to see if we can salvage something from comms again on the long range...and unsurprisingly, we haven't got it working. I heard they executed a bunch of fucking NATO soldiers from what one of our Scouts said at the Air Base, I just don't get why either. We'll probably join them." Ian said, a little cynical as he looked over.
"Shit man, you only see the bad side of things. Could be a one-off."
"Well, if you haven't realized yet, the AAF does outnumber us, at least three to one, And as corrupt and badly organized as they can be, this isn't their character. Why are they in Mike-26 straightaway? Why'd they slack on bringing troops to the south? It's as if they've had their hand forced, and it sure as shit ain't those pricks up top doing this." Ian said, as Lewis shrugged his shoulders.
"All I know is, we're in the shit now, mate. And you know that if we get murdered, I ain't leaving without firing that 40mil in some Greenback's fat fucking face." Lewis said, even bringing a smirk to Ian's face, as he checked the perimeter, making his way down and back towards the tank, as another pair of soldiers from 4th Platoon moved up into the tower, without barely a word spoken as they changed around, the Chief Warrant Officer still working with a few other members of his 4th Platoon to restore communications. Runners had been the predominant form of comms for now between 3rd and 4th Platoons, though only intermittent radio contact had been made. But coming back towards the main camoflage netting, where a temporary Platoon HQ had been made over an old laptop and a map, as well as the Marshall, it seemed some progress was being made.
"Corporal! Get the engine fired up on the Marshall, we're making some sort of comms with 3rd- they need help, and you're to take Bronco Squad to the south of Camp Maxwell to stop 3rd Platoon getting outflanked there. Most of 4th's going to stay here- we can't afford to lose any more ground, and we're losing time, fast. Lieutenant Barnes, Thunder-2's at your disposal if you need more fire- but stay the fuck away from Mike-26, as we saw very heavy resistance there earlier." Ian heard, as Lewis, as well as LCpl Mitchell, who were also running over, the tankers getting their helmets as they scrambled to get the Marshall moving.

---

The SDV came in closer and closer to the sea floor, as Huscarl guessed that Mischief and the rest would have made it quicker- the SDV not changing massively in it's depth, but the sea floor coming up, as they approached land.
"We're surfacing Praetorian, get ready to get your rebreather out of your mouth. Now we find out the extent of the damage." Huscarl added, as the open-doored SDV came up, about 50m from the shore, as Huscarl had the SDAR ready by his knees, ready to pull it up and fire when needed. The SDV slowly rubbed on the sandy shore, as he eased off the gas, taking the mask off as he exhaled hard, emerging from the SDV as he swept the area, his uniform soaked and in the dark, his eyes adapting to the relative darkness. The fire kept some sort of light around, as well as the moon, so to some extent, NVGs were limited in their scope. Moving up, he saw Mischief and the rest of the CTRG team come in and break land, as Huscarl looked over to the M134-armed RHIB, to double up the fact that CTRG was back on Stratis. Huscarl turned to them, but the sighting was broken by one thing.
"Shit, we got people, west side? No AAF marks! Foxhound!" One of the tower guards yelled out, before he considered opening fire, the call to signify the friendly callout to identify friend or foe.
"Pheasant! We're friendly forces, I'm Captain Arran Birgirson, UKSF, hold your guns! Staff Sergeant Patterson among you lot?" Arran said, his hands in the air, as he knew that the boat team had been rather unexpected. These guys really weren't used to frequent combat, Arran thought to himself, as a yell could be heard.
"I'm here! Get these people in, they're assholes for keeping us waiting, but better late than never, right Captain?" Arran heard, as Patterson moved to the entrance, seeing the CTRG unit make land, as Arran looked over at the group of US Airborne, who looked tattered, tired and most of all, like they had really gone through hell and back holding back the defenses. Arran took his vest and his other equipment from the boat, as the team dismounted, the Staff Sergeant looking around, as he looked at them.
"With respect, the fuck happened to you? You leave us here and we get fucking bombed. Nothing to do with you, right?"
"That's out of your questioning Staff Sergeant, and no, don't tell us that we created this. Matter of fact, the AAF are going to "evict" you from this island, and we're here to make sure you don't get driven into the sea, because a fucking global war could spark over this bloody rock. You want to live, you're going to want to keep your trap shut, and your ears open." Arran said, as he moved into the compound, Patterson instantly protesting.
"Woah woah woah, what the fuck...you telling us we ain't doing our fucking jobs correctly? We've waded through the seven circles of hell for you to tell us we're going to bow under you?"
"You're doing it again. Saying you'll be respectful then being disrespectful is an irony, and we haven't got the time. Look, any CO's left at all? We lost comms with you guys when we were arriving, just fill us in." Arran said, as the team moved into the base, Huscarl still carrying his vest as he moved over towards the Hunter, putting his rebreather on the bonnet as Patterson looked over.
"Lieutenant Andrews is dead, and last we heard, Air Station Mike-26 is a no-go zone. Camp Rogain got bombed, and we've mined the roads between the Old Barracks and Camp Rogain, before running for here. LZ Connor and Camp Maxwell is still intact, I think, they're still fighting back. We've got Lieutenant Barnes and Chief Warrant Officer Hartley left as probably the last command units, no other officers. Shit, we've gone through at least a couple of squads of AAF, these guys fucking aren't local to the deployment of Greenbacks they had here earlier." Patterson said now, a little less angered, and calmed as Huscarl looked over, getting his vest on, as he checked his SCAR-H once again.
"Then that leaves me as the only one capable of running our defense then right now, both in this camp and on the island. I outrank them both those two at those places respectively, and there's only one way that we can even think about getting back at these bastards without getting annihilated."
"What, you taking over this? You ain't a figure of authority, you're just a Special Forces.."
"Again interruptions, Staff Sergeant, you're not making it any fucking easier, do you understand me? Stand the fuck down- what else do you think, you can do a better job than me or my lads? You haven't even half heard me out, you bloody know that. You did your part- now you fall in and do as you're fucking told." Arran said, authoritatively, as he looked him almost direct in the eye.
"Now, we need to get communications up and running, rearming, and defending. There's a mortar in that thing over there...shit...they actually bombed my Billet. Well anyway, the one next to it, there's a disassembled Mk6 Mortar. Get it online, put 82 mils into Stratis AFB on random spread, and we'll work from there on what next, to at least confuse them. We need to regroup with friendly forces, and get co-ordinated. Staff Sergeant, you've done your job from here- but the only way it's going to work is if we divide up teams and keep things locked down. Mischief, Praetorian, over here- rest of you, keep a watch." Arran said, as he looked over to the destroyed HQ.
"We'll have Mischief here as Alpha Team lead- get your best men from the remainder of your Platoon, Staff Sergeant, into his unit, and get the rest of yours into Bravo Team, under Praetorian here. You'll both be two squads of infantry, and a potent force to throw back in the Greenbacks, so long as you don't take casualties. Charlie will be comprised of your walking wounded and remainders, with yourself taking lead as a support and defense unit at Tempest, and Delta, a Direct Action and will be headed up by Athena here to work on getting any NATO forces back onto Stratis. I'll stay from base and maintain a command- I'll work with Alpha or Delta when required, to make sure we keep the running even." Huscarl said, as the other two came over, Huscarl looking over.
"We'll work on a structure but for now, there's a bigger priority. Perimeter defense, reconnaissance of our immediate area of Greenbacks, and getting friendly contact established with NATO forces as a part of TF Hephaestus on Stratis, then wider NATO MEDCOM. Otherwise, you can forget about any offensives, Patterson. We'll get another sit rep in half an hour- Delta, you move to Girna as I mentioned earlier, Alpha's going to be performing first recon to the north in Nisi Bay, Bravo gets a western reconnaissance down our valley to Mike-26, and Charlie, you continue to reestablish what we can of this scrap metal. If I need to take over this entire bloody island's friendly forces since there isn't anyone of higher rank, so be it- there's bound to be at least half a Company's worth of men we have at hand, so we can capitalize on that. Let's get hustling gents." Arran added, guessing it'd be a long night.

---

Things moved slowly but surely within the base, as Huscarl got his shit back together, and squads within the next ten minutes had been drawn up. All that had been totally screwed had changed eventually, as a basic HQ setup was made in the wreck of the HQ structure, with the crate that Huscarl and Praetorian had retrieved now among another set of crates full of SCARs, MXs and other weapons under a improvised camo net in the partly wrecked structure, on tables and in large pallet boxes- with the CTRG MSBS A2 rifles being particularly around. Explosives, grenades, ammunition was set, and most of the elements inside Tempest had gotten back on their feet. Perhaps it was that the AAF knew so little about Tempest due to the CTRG's presence there, that had bought them the most security- and due to it's insignificance, had been bypassed. Huscarl was back to his regular kit, changing his SCAR-H for a specialized SCAR-CL 6.5 EGLM variant, a previous contender for the Future Rifle competition which it had lost to the MX, due to cost. But this weapon was a future-generation SCAR, chambered in the newer 6.5mm round, and packed a classic punch, that CTRG and some US forces had taken in specialized roles. Transferring the EGLM, as well as getting a Silencer and a ARCO optic attached with a IR Laser Pointer, things weren't too bad. Getting a smaller tan-colored Assault Pack due to the fact that he carried less equipment overall, as well as a few more mags for the ACP.45.
"Comms are back up, Sir!" Davis said, as Huscarl moved over, Davis herself a part of Charlie due to the fact that she was Hoplite Platoon's former radiowoman, though the MX SW that she had taken from a deceased Autorifleman in the team didn't look out of place by her bag close to the radio, as well as the standard kit she wore.
"Great. That's medium-range working again- most of it on that area of comms flows through Mike-26 and a few towers in the north, thank fuck we've managed to get the network online." Huscarl said, as he moved over towards a partly broken chair, sitting down as he adjusted the microphone in his helmet.
"All NATO forces receiving on this net, this is Captain Arran Birgirson, UK Special Forces- callsign is Huscarl. Anyone receiving?"
"Shit...understood Captain, Chief Warrant Officer Hartley receiving at LZ Connor..we've got significant contacts north of Camp Maxwell, a massing of AAF forces, Crossbow and Vanguard Platoons are still fully-operational, we've lost all contact of Hoplite and 1st Platoon at Stratis AFB....you don't sound very familiar.."
"There's little time to explain, Warrant Officer- no detailed specifics either, since this net is potentially compromised, we're running it on a thread over this length that AAF forces can tap. Recommend you mobilize a small fireteam to secure Girna and rendevous with Delta, a squad we'll send your way to keep an eye out, until we get a more secure line to establish contact, and get ourselves co-ordinated. They don't see anything by 0000 hours, they leave, understood Hartley?" Arran said, as he looked over, the flames in the distance from other burning outposts and wrecks littering the place.
"Copy that Huscarl. We've lost all other officers on the island, you're the highest ranking officer left if you are what you say."
"Understood, Warrant Officer. I guess I'll have to take the gauntlet. Get to work on securing the network- we need a stable line, before any more chat. Huscarl out."

(This is where it gets interesting. I've given two positions of command to Zdislav and Linn, as leaders of Alpha and Bravo elements within the reinforced "Hoplite" Platoon, which are basically going to be yours in free-rein to RP with. They'll be forces of around 6-8 men in each squad, and they'll be performing initially reconaissance and engaging extensively with AAF forces, though eventually, they'll be fully-fledged assault forces. Don't worry, they'll still indirectly be under the command of Huscarl.)
(Also, RPC, you can post now. Jump into the fray- don't worry, I have multiple character disorder in RPs, and I detail a lot as GM- so you can make far shorter posts than I do, though keep some detail. Bronco's with Thunder-2 moving north from LZ Connor- I've updated the map.)

Able Archer: 1983

I think that it'd connect well with the Airborne ethos that Janusz's unit would have- they'd have friendly reinforcements of a higher caliber, such as an armored team, back up their claims.

Able Archer: 1983

I do want to have my Polish Squad of Airborne Infantry come as somewhat a shock, following the SF moving in to eliminate key targets. I agree with Hamster on this one- it'd be somewhat unexpected, and even if they were at odds and waiting for shit to happen, it would take the Warsaw Pact to kick the bucket back at NATO and retaliate in a way that is not planned for. I'll have them at base for my next post when I make it.