FourtyTwo Member

0600 Hours Somewhere in the Mediterranean Sea, Off the coast of Egypt HMS Eagle The HMS Eagle was a fine Aircraft carrier, an Audacious-Class Aircraft Carrier operated by the Royal Navy. On the deck, sat a number of helicopters and planes, ranging from Douglas Skyraiders, Hawker Sea Hawks and Westland Whirlwind helicopters, which would bring most of the Royal Marines on this carrier to the fight. While perhaps the Royal Navy was more used to deploying amphibious task forces by the waves, today would be different. Since Korea, the idea of the Royal Marines entering battle from the sea would change- they'd come from the air, or at least this part of 40 Commando would. The early morning sun had wiped out any sea fog, and it was all stations go, as far as the Fleet Air Arm had considered. And this was the mere surface- inside, was most of "Forty", or 40 Commando itself, the detatchment of Royal Marines from the 3rd Commando Brigade. In particular, apart from the storage of Westland Wyvern CAS aircraft, the area had become a large staging area for the airmobile forces of 40 Commando. A various set of netting, and armories were set up in the large aircraft bay, surprisingly less filled than usual. The Med was still as a pond today, and the sun was basking out, though this being the late autumn, it wasn't as hot as it could get. There was a hubub of supplies, squads arming up and general movement, as a few squads at a time, they moved out from their armories and briefings to the deck, to board up into helicopters or standby for tasking. The place was a hive, to say the least- the Invasion was already underway, since the 16th Airborne Brigade had touched down at El Cap Airfield, and despite losses, essentially captured the middle of the Suez Canal. They now had to liberate Port Said, and that meant effectively storming the place. They were up against militants and the Egyptian Army according to Colonel Harris, the head of 40 Commando- and in the whole scheme of things, that meant that the enemy was nowhere near their standard. Total air dominance had been established, the Egyptian Navy practically didn't exist and therefore was not a threat to the Royal Navy, and the Egyptians were so poorly armed with British Colonial weaponry and any other foraged kit, that it would be like fighting Zulus all over again, Andrew thought to himself. Andrew sat on a ammunition crate inside that cargo bay, looking at his watch. They were meant to be here, the section he now had inherited and had brought over from Cyprus, they were a minute late now; and that was enough. They were leaving in twenty, so whatever introductions were going to be made, were going to have to come fast. He sat under a netting that was placed up inside, the cold steel at his boots and a Sterling on his lap, magazine unloaded for obvious safety reasons. This wasn't a weapon you kept loaded when you didn't want to shoot, it was that simple, even on the Mk4. The Section was meant to be here, and then, one man of a few came. They'd rallied up probably in the mess, but even so, this wasn't on. The young man, Daniel, wore his uniform with uncertainty almost, as he approached Andrew. "Captain Mackenzie? I heard I'm with you." Daniel said, in a weakened voice, as Andrew laughed. "They gave me a bloody boy, seriously. You fucking refer to me as Captain, they drill that into your head at Basic or I will fucking drill it into you with a fucking knife, right fucking here. What's your name, lad?" Andrew barked back, the Anglicized Scots accent as sharp as the Trench Knife at his hip, the older Marine's uniform looking tattered and worn, but still just as neat in some way or form. Swearing from the Scotsman sounded like he'd already plunged a dagger into his heart. "Private Parsons, Captain. I didn't mean..." He simply said, as Andrew nodded, looking him over, as he stood, currently unarmed, Daniel cut off entirely by Andrew's loud and overbearing voice. "Cunting hell, I am actually going to trip over your umbilical cord, you look like you've barely fucking gone through puberty. National Service? Or just trying to impress some slag?" Andrew asked, knowing full well where he was going. "Yes, Sir; I'm a National Serviceman." Daniel replied, gulping, as Andrew shook his head. "Well, I've got my work cut out. You aren't a shitting serviceman, you ain't even fucking the West Country's best tribute at a National Serviceman. Right, you grab the L7A1 I've been penciled with in the squad, you're lugging that thing. If I saw, you wanted an MG. You now have the most advanced weapon that we have in our arsenal. Well done." Andrew simply said to Daniel, as he nodded, walking past, scared somewhat of Andrew already. This wasn't good, no matter what way he said it. Just as Daniel's hands were grabbing the GPMG, Andrew turned his head and looked over, Daniel aware that you didn't ignore his stare without inducing something. "Don't fuck this up, Parsons. I'll have your fucking head on a pike by the hour if you don't fire that thing as God intended. I know your type. Keep it in mind." He said, harshly at the end, as Daniel adjusted his beret, aware that Andrew wasn't taking any prisoners, as he looked down to the notes he'd made, on the Section composition. "And it turns out we have a lass as a fucking nurse, some bloody Currymaker, a pair of Northern Irish twats, another pair of fucking children and a couple of old farts who look like they could be in a retirement home. Brilliant. Just, fucking, brilliant. The cream of the fucking Royal Marines, the most elite that Great Britain offers and we've got that. Jesus." Andrew said to himself, as he took a few magazines from the crate behind him, lumbering up in his chest rig, the long range radio housed in a Bergen by his feet, for later communications. Fact was, Andrew wanted to go and take some names, and he didn't want to miss his helicopter, or else there would be hell and paperwork to pay. Hell was fine, the paperwork the RN would want filled out could find it's way down someone's esophagus if Andrew knew it came to it. (NOTE TO ALL- the racism and sexism is going to be pretty bad from Andrew, as I may have forwarned. It is IC, and will not transfer over. Andrew's pissed-offness can stem from little things- the very slight delay being enough.)

Accepted. No more oldies, I say- let's stick with younger characters (nothing under 17 though) from here on out. I think I'll post the OOC shortly.

Well, either. I'd rather the Bren, because the L7 is meant to be more of a trialled weapon in the RM at this time- with a Machinegunner indeed at this time using the Bren as a standard tool. This is the modern site keep in mind- I would go with a Bren if I were you, as that is in itself, usually employed as a section's MG.

Get your ass in here, now. I would want that, and while we have a marksman (BigPapaBelilal's character), I want to have that character, it sounds excellent. At this time, Indians were mixed in their treatment. Racism did exist, but in the military, racism isn't as prevalent as it is in Society- look at the Gurkhas as an example. I mean, what I would say, is that in IC, a character such as Andrew might use a slur, but it would as I say, be in IC. I would say that at Britain at the time, there was underlying tensions (but it only really boiled over in the 60s), so an Indian character would be fine. I'd actually love to see that happen, so go right on ahead. Though word of note- I'd stray from Marksman, perhaps go for a Automatic Rifleman or a Machinegunner, Anti-Tank or even perhaps a Grenadier- we need a little more firepower in the team, if you could, though tell me what you reckon and we can work something out.

She's a little too young- she would have seen the tail end of the Korean Conflict at 17, though I do guess if she was very slightly on the older side, it's possible she went through her medic's training and was deployed in time. I guess accepted- I know that the 50s wouldn't have been a time where females served alongside males, and hence, as you've mentioned, the sexism and harassment is going to be something that will exist. I did allow female characters in these two roles as it's the only two plausible methods, and I did want to not keep it as a total sausage-fest even so. I'd say that there will be harassment particularly from Andrew, I'm afraid, because the shock of having a female on his team is going to drive him up the wall. Also, I'm working on a CS of my younger character.

> Hello everyone. It just so happens that this is exactly my cup of tea so I'll be working on a CS today for "the girl" of the group because I like the challenge of earning my place with the boys. XD Well, in which case, end up making either a Medic or a Radiowoman- effectively, there *aren't* any Royal Marines on the frontlines who are female, especially in this period. But for the sake of it being just something that I feel would work out in these two roles, we can get away with it, I feel- though I wouldn't want more than one if I'm honest. Make what you will, and I'll let you know what I reckon.

I should mention- I reckon we should try and aim for more younger characters from here on out, as a sort of mention- one or two more and the OOC goes up.

Nice, also accepted.

Well, either way, whatever floats your boat really. Could even have a mix- a soldier that's just fought in Colonial wars, and only just that. I would like to see tension between not just the real veterans of the Royal Marines, older and really war weary soldiers, but younger, and really inexperienced blood. Not as a Section Lead- as a fireteam, perhaps, as my lad will be in charge of a 12 man section of Royal Marines. I did forget to mention that- it will be on a Section-Level, with NPCs in the gaps of Fireteams, but you will fill most of the roles in with human players. As the team is helicopter-bourne, it's the easiest way to fufil that sort of feeling, and give a sort of urban-assault playout.

Name: Andrew Mackenzie Gender: Male Age: 34 Appearance: [Andrew](http://i.imgur.com/hV28YVn.jpg) (Note- the Royal Marines Beret is Green, not Brown, and obvs, this is a modern picture, so subtract the MTP.) Just like his reputation, Andrew looks genuinely like you'd think he would. He stands at about 6"4 and has a well maintained brown beard, with short brown hair, and blue eyes. He has too many bruises and small injuries to list- he has served in four conflicts and played Rugby for both the Royal Navy and Royal Marines, and even despite his age, he's near the peak of atheliticism, being more concentrated in strength than stamina- being aware that he is more fit than some young recruits joining, which is rather remarkable. Quite simply put, you don't walk into a dark alley with his silhouette, even at his mid 30s. He has a scar running the whole length of his chin to his right cheek, though it's mostly covered by his beard, and a broken nose, being a habit of his from past sports.. He has a strong Glaswegian accent, understandable due to many years in the South of the country, but sometimes, he can be jumpy in how he speaks. He has a tattoo of an Anchor on his right shoulder, of which he obtained in the Royal Navy, whilst a Trident-figure is tattooed onto his mid back alongside a sea serpent (resembling the Loch Ness Monster) on his left shoulder; all of these usually covered by his uniform and something that the Royal Marines even at this time has as a sub-culture, relating to the Navy. He can usually be seen wearing in this theater, a weathered brown Khaki shirt and trousers, alongside a RM's Green Beret that covers his short hair, a simple load bearing vest for ammunition and equipment usually on his uniform; of which has the insignia of a Captain and the Royal Marines Commando insignia. A pair of what looks like the most dusted military boots most will see sit on his feet- they have literally lasted three wars since the Palestinian conflict, and Andrew maintains it proudly, refusing to change them. Rank: Captain Role: Section Leader Weapon and Ammunition: -L2A3 Sterling SMG, 9x 30 Round Magazine, 9x19mm -Webley MkIV Revolver (Chrome Finished) -2x Mills Bombs -4x Mixed (White, Blue, Red, Green) Smoke Grenades Brief Background: Andrew Mackenzie was born in Gorbals, Glasgow, to a poor family, his father being a docker and his mother being a housewoman. He was brought up with three siblings- his younger brother and two older sisters, having most of his childhood in the rough times of the 1930s. His father almost became unemployed, and was the only family breadwinner, with Andrew expected almost straightaway to go into the Shipbuilding Industry, and help him out. This didn't happen, due to the outbreak of war- and Andrew joined up into the Royal Navy, as a Seaman, being something that even his father approved of in the end. However, he wanted more action, and found that life on deck wasn't exactly as rewarding as he had expected. He found recruitment into the Royal Marines, and more specifically, 3 Commando Brigade was a choice to make far more natural than most, in 1941- he was very athletic at this time, and played as an amateur for the Royal Navy's Rugby team. He wanted to see conflict, and become involved, and following a year's worth of training, saw his first ground-based combat in Operation Overlord, landing on Gold Beach and assaulting to La Riviere, as a Lance Corporal. He proved his worth in the Battle of the Scheldt, where he was promoted to Sergeant, and given his own squad- though he never got the chance to command as the war was quickly ended in the West, and before 47 Commando's redeployment to the Far East, Japan had surrendered. He was a remarkable man- he remained despite the expiration of his national service, and the fact that war was over, he remained as a NCO, being transferred to 40 Commando in the re-organizational shifts that occurred within the Royal Marines at the time. "Forty" was deployed to Palestine in 1947-1948 as a buffer force, and he saw even bloodier CQB warfare take place, in which almost no remorse was ordered; to Israeli or Arab forces that attacked British positions. This was a different experience to what he usually experienced back in the Second World War- this was an enemy that crawled out of the woodwork as an insergent force, not the German Army's codes. They had valor in his perspective, they didn't fight like rats, and it hardened his resolve. Following the end of this tour, he returned home and married his wife, Beatrice, before being asked to further his career in the RM and become an Officer. Following a year's Officer Training, he was deployed to Malaya with a Royal Marines section, and took on the worst of the Communist Insurgency, often being known as one of the most remorseless and successful in conducting Counter-Insurgency warfare. Close Quarters Battle and paranoia of any and every local was sometimes unprecedented, but it worked for Andrew. His approach of no holds barred, ruthlessness towards suspected Communists be it simply shooting on sight or taking men away from remote villages was harsh, but something that his superiors did not stop. He didn't want to lose any of his men to those bastards- and he became a cold, and almost psychopathically-minded Officer, being able to put his mind to one task- defeat the enemy, without losing any of his men. This tour of duty was perhaps the most destabilizing- the jungle environment, while somewhere he did flourish, lost him almost 20kg of weight, following illness, yet he got through it thanks to a dubious supply of medicine and ill-prepared paperwork. He had two children with his wife over the next few years despite a rough relationship, followed by a light deployment to Oman during the Jebel Akhdar War, as a part of a small detachment that 40 Commando sent en route to the Far East, being something he had a lighter role in. Still, he received a disciplinary for almost beating three local individuals to death, following the death of one of his men to a landmine whilst on patrol, and became famed among Royal Marine ranks as one of the most scary individuals you could be ever placed into a Section with. He loved his men truly, but didn't even respect anyone that was out on their first time, or moaned, complained, or had a problem with the way he ran his ship or the Royal Marines did. He happily enjoyed his men enforcing beatings on the weaker men in his section, where needed if someone fell out of line and didn't pull their weight- and he'd make sure that if they didn't, they'd be thrown out very quickly, rather than waste his time. And it wasn't as if he didn't enforce this off of a lull of his past-times- whilst not as fit as he was when he initially joined, the bearded Glaswegian could easily take many Royal Marines no less in hand-to-hand combat and pretty much murder them, with zero remorse. His views are an old Colonial's- he is often racist, xenophobic and Imperialistic, in how the world works and how it needs to work; although he respects any Gurkha or foriegn face in the British Military that can fight like men possessed. He doesn't drink heavily or turn to any substances- on the surface, he's a exemplar officer of the Royal Marines, being a model for his men to look up to. Yet Andrew seems to be a true psychopath, something which perhaps his superiors recognize yet let slide, as it keeps the machinery working. In 1956, he was stationed aboard HMS Eagle, as a part of a new Helicopter-borne 40 Commando battalion-sized force, with a new section- and being sent off to another British conflict. TLDR: He's going to pretty much demonstrate why you don't fuck with a Marine like him. Equipment: -British Fatigues (Khaki Drill) -Trench Knife -Long-Range Radio Rucksack -Navigation Tools -Zippo Lighter (There's a Story) -Water Canteen/Rations --------------------------------------- Name: Daniel Parsons Gender: Male Age: 18 Appearance: [Feller on the left](http://www.defunctspeedway.co.uk/Army%20Reg%20&%20Bill%20Bartlett.jpg) Daniel looks like a child to some- he doesn't look war weary, or even like he's been subjected to fighting at all. He stands at about 5"11, with a fresh face that has very few scars or cuts. While the Royal Marines standard of fitness demands most young men to be close to their peak in athleticism, Daniel looks like he barely made the mark- he could keep up with his compatriots, and just- possibly being the harsh reason he's now carrying a heavy GPMG rather than a Sterling. He has brown hair and a clean shaven face, not that he has grown a beard; with hazel-coloured eyes. He has a regular English accent, almost too Middle-Class, and wears a fresh uniform, alongside a RM Green Beret and boots. He's got no ink, at least, not yet. Rank: Private Role: Machinegunner Weapon and Ammunition: L7A1 GPMG (Trial) 6x 200 Round Boxes, 7.62x51mm NATO 2x Mills Bombs 2x White Smoke Grenades Brief Background: Daniel was born to a middle-class family in Clifton, Bristol, being brought up in a household that was subjected to the Bristol Blitz and general bombing by the Germans. His father worked as a bureaucrat in the local council and as a part-time ARF warden, whilst his mother worked at a munitions factory, being something they maintained to the end of the war. Daniel himself was evacuated to the countryside due to his youth, and spent four years of his youth generally working and helping out in rural Devon. His education was fairly affected, and he was able to only obtain meager grades in School in the early 50s, being still a teen while some of the people he'd later join in the Royal Marines gritting their teeth in war. Daniel had been rather spoiled throughout his youth, and allowed to live a more liberal lifestyle, though when he turned 17, National Service took him in 1955, and he was able to get himself into the Royal Marines. Why Daniel did this he now wonders- the training was grueling and he was subjected to hell, being almost transformed in the process into a fighting fit Commando. This wasn't what he imagined the Royal Marines to be. He thought if he'd keep his head down, he's get through his Service, and that would be it. He's as fresh as grass when it comes to warfare, and while not expecting to be deployed as a part of 40 Commando's Reserve, this suddenly happened almost six weeks after the end of his training. He was deployed to HMS Eagle, and given an L7A1- an early FN MAG, a trial weapon within the Royal Marines at the time, being a future replacement for the Vickers and Bren Guns of old. He's still a virgin, and many of his squad-mates will often remind him of this fact- not to mention that he still bricks himself at the noise of gunfire. Equipment: -British Fatigues (Khaki Drill) -Ammunition Bergen -Scouts Knife -Water Canister/Rations