RP (non-canon) 1st SORT: Operation Husky


Retired Staff
10 July, 1943, Gela, Sicily.

It had been several hours since they had dropped. Behind her, closer to the coast, April could hear the sounds of combat, with the main invasion force landing, clashing with the Italian defenders of this Island; Sicily. But that was none of her concern. Right now, she was focused on the mission she and her team had been given. Outside the city was a small castle, which was being used for Axis communications. Intelligence believed there was also a code machine. Her group, the 1st Special Operations Reconnaissance Team, had been tasked with infiltrating the castle, taking down the communications center, and stealing the code machine.

So they had been dropped. Just another unit with all the other paratroopers being dumped over Sicily. Except the 1st SORT was different. Nearly all of them were female, which was entirely unheard of on the battlefield. and on top of that, the women weren't normal women. Given special training, and augmented under a special program called Project NECO, these women were elite supersoldiers. Or at least, that was the intent. A few had been in battle before, expatriots from allied nations, but the majority had been trained only after volunteering for the NECO program. And so, here they were, on their first mission as the SORT.

There was just one problem April could see right now. Or rather, that she couldn't. Paratroopers were called Sticks, because once they were dropped they were blown around like sticks in the wind. The 1st SORT was no exception, and they, too had been scattered over the Island's beautiful countryside. Luckily, they all had the same target, so April knew they would be congregating around the castle. If they weren't dead yet.

The young, blonde, American soldier peered over an embankment, catching a great view of the castle. Miraculously she had retained all of her equipment during the drop, and right now she clutched her M1 Paratrooper carbine, ready in case an enemy approached. There were enemies all around, in fact, and April had already seen several groups of soldiers march down the castle road toward the city of Gela. This was a good sign, because it meant there was less resistance for them to deal with.

At least, that was what she hoped.


Well-Known Member
So picture it, Sicily 1943.

BOOM... headshot... or maybe it was, with the 20mm round it was hard to tell. One moment a Nazi was standing there on a ledge, next, a pink mist and man paste on the wall behind. Rosy smiled as she dragged her L-39 back behind a building before hefting it and moving off to find wither another target or the rest of her stick.

She had already spent an bit of time on the ground looking for her hefty rifle. She wasn't going to leave that laying around. There might be children or adults that would touch it and make it sticky... It took a bit of sneaking around before she found it's chute blowing in the wind on a roof top. The rifle apparently have hit the roof and punched through damaging an office below. The man there was excited that he was being liberated, but kept yelling at her in his language. she was sure it had to do with how she would be paying for the damages. though language was not her strong suit, she pushed him away from the gun he was standing before. Surprising him with her unladylike strength.

"Sorry Bub, she's mine..." Rosy Grunted as she picked the beast of an anti-tank rifle up. "You happen to know where I am? I's Sure It ain't Kansas..." She walked over and looked out a window. "Please tell me those fly boys got me at least in the right area... This is Gela right?" She pulled a map out of her pocket and looked at it trying to compare it to what she saw. She smiled when it seemed the skyline matched a bit to her map.

Blowing a kiss to the still bitching Sicilian, Rosy headed out the door. Wedging her half smoked cigar back between her lips she found her way towards the castle they were supposed to attack. Stoping from time to time to throw a round at distance, to destroy a German vehicle or solder.
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Potato Salad
Clair Elizabeth Sheffield, Colour Sergeant in the Royal Army crouched behind a boulder. She had landed in a decently wooded area, requiring her to cut her parachute to get down from a tree, and now was getting her bearings. She had ascended a small rise, taking her to a clearing where she now had her big rock and a view of the castle and Gela in the distance. She frowned, wishing the drop had been a bit more accurate rather than all of them getting sent all over creation. That was always the fun of parachuting in, getting the team back together after.

She was on the short side, closer to five foot than she was to six, but she was not a little thing. Clair had pleasing curves and long flowing platinum blond hair that was currently pulled up into a knot to keep it out of trouble.

They had a rendezvous point of course and Clair took a moment to consult her map once she had ensured there were no Nazi's lurking around her landing area. There was plenty sign of them and they were crawling around the castle and city. "Well, lets get to it" she said in her estuary accent and folded up her map, stuffing it back into it's pocket. She had her Bren packed and clung to her De Lisle carbine. It was loaded and the safety off in case she needed it in a pinch. That said she rather preferred to link up with her friends before coming across any hostiles, so she kept her wits about her and took a little more time to move along and keep herself out of sight and quiet. Stealth was key right now and hell if she was going to be the one to blow the operation to the krouts by slipping up now!


Well-Known Member
Corporal Robert Osborn, formerly of the Marine Raiders, ended up landing somewhat closer to the target than the planners had originally anticipated, the wind had caught him up in a gust and blown him well off course. He shrugged and muttered to himself "huh, Italy, well at least the weather's nicer here than it is out in the Solomon's fighting the Japs. Well, may as well head for the rendezvous point."

He was relatively tall, a bit over 6 feet tall, and rather well muscled with short cropped brown hair.

He hefted his BAR and made sure all the rest of his gear was in place and started to make his way towards the planned staging area for the Op. He hadn't had much time to get to know the other members of the unit but knew that a large number of them were women of some unique sort and that concerned him, but he was a Marine and would do whatever needed to be done to help his country win this war.


Well-Known Member
Tiffany let out a small grumble as she shifted a little in the tree she was in. She had landed in the field and after a spot of wiping off the vomit from her lips, she had righted herself and eventually climbed a tree. She hated planes, hated them with a passion, and yet she had jumped out of a perfectly good plane to the ground below. Sure, she had training in parachuting, but still, it sucked...

She had landed in a field, just outside of the town and a short distance to the objective, but had yet to see any of the others. Maybe it had been a lucky gust of wind that had thrown her aside toward the objective, toward their mission point and thrown the others askew, but there was little she could do about that now. She had rolled the parachute up as she hid in the tall grass and crawled her way to the tree to gain higher ground. With her parachute at the base of the tree hidden in the grass she left her grease gun resting on top of her parachute, allowing her to scan the edges of the town where she had already dropped two nazis with clean, crisp headshots using her rifle. She was sure she had seen her squadmates drop back in the town, and she would do her best to cover them, but more to that point she was there for her kill rating. She did have a point to prove to her brothers after all, and the acceptance into this squad was already one notch in her belt over her brothers.
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Retired Staff
There was commotion everywhere, just not in April's immediate vicinity. she could hear sounds, fighting, scuffling, yelling, shouting. Things going on everywhere. It was all chaos, and the young American soldier felt that she was in the eye of the storm, just waiting for it to start moving and sweep her up in its devastating turbulence. Instead, she decided to start moving, and slid back down the embankment to try and circle around to another side of the castle. Crouched low, the blonde was running parallel to the embankment when she suddenly stumbled upon a cutting that had been made into it, and just inside was a pair of Italian soldiers. the three of them all paused for half a second of stunned silence, before one of the Axis soldiers yelled and raised his rifle, but it was too late; April's M1 Carbine went off in four swift shots, and the two men dropped. She dashed forward, shouldering the rifle and pulling out her knife in one fluid motion, dipping in to silence the men permanently with almost surgical precision.

But that small noise had been enough. The castle suddenly changed. windows which had been resolutely shut now flung open, gun barrels pointing outward in all directions, suddenly so much more watchful than it had been moments before. April silently cursed her bad luck, but she couldn't change any of this now. She had to find her squad, so they could mount a proper attack on the castle.

Off she dashed, running again around the perimeter, not quite as fast this time, but much more aware, and infinitely more ready for whatever might happen.


Potato Salad
Not too far away Clair heard the commotion and swore as the castle looked to go into full alert. It had been close. Maybe it was one of her mates?

"Blimy" she growled. Seemed like someone had let things slip.

She continued along, moving quicker now, she had to make check out the cause of the commotion and make sure it had not been one of her people getting caught. She quickly approached the embankment where the sound had come from, her carbine at the ready in case there were hostiles and peered over. She spotted two dead soldiers, enemies, both shot and stabbed. Seemed she was on the right track at least. Then movement caught her eye and she saw someone running off, had to be a friendly.

Clair booked it, keeping low and swift as she moved to follow and catch up with the other person, but keeping enough distance for now not to startle them.
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Well-Known Member
Robert noticed the castle suddenly go on alert, "what the hell did one of those crazy dames do to kick that anthill" he muttered to himself as he moved to find a good spotting location to start picking off Germans and Italians with his BAR. He'd take a few out and then move on forward to keep making his way towards the rendezvous point where they were supposed to be staging before the assault.


Retired Staff
As April continued her swift, crouched jog around the castle, she noticed a sound following her. another pair of footsteps, mirroring her own. At this point, however, she couldn't tell if it was one of her own or an attacker trying to take her by surprise. Suddenly, she stopped, boots grinding to a halt in the soil, and turned, brandishing her M1 Trench knife, spiked knuckle guard held out defensively.

Clair saw her quarry stop, turn and brandish a short bladed weapon. She stopped, keeping beyond 20 feet away from her. "Thunder" she said, just loud enough for the other to hear. If she got the correct response it was a friendly, if not, well, her carbine would be the next one doing the talking.

The Immediate response of "Flash" from the paratrooper-uniformed woman in front of Clair immediately let her know it was another one in her squad, the blonde hair sticking out from below the olive drab steel pot suspended above her skull being the telltale sign that it was April.
"The hell are you doin' runnin' after me like that?" she asked, stowing her knife quickly as the possible threat was unveiled to bea friendly.

Clair let out the breath and lowered her weapon as she approached more casually. "Makin sure you were not some hostile" she replied. "And now, linking back up with someone from my squad" she shrugged. "Seen anyone else yet?"

April shook her head. "Nobody but you and some guards back there." April unslung her rifle, and turned back in the direction she had been heading before. "Ah think we're almost at the rendezvous point now, we jus' gotta make sure everyone else gets there, too.

Clair nodded. "Aye, lets get going then, no reason to dilly dally about eh?" she grinned and kicked off, back on the way to the meetup point and feeling a bit more secure now that she had found one member of the team.


Active Member
Riikka was fairly certain that, if there was a God, then he hated NECOs. Or at least, He hated this particular NECO. Because after jumping out of the plane the Fin had found herself drifting through the cold night air on a course that she had no doubt was leading her to the wrong destination. She remembered from photography what their landing zone was supposed to look like from the air, and while she hadn't seen them until she was much lower, it was clear that the trees she had been coming down in to were not the clearing that the team had been aiming for. So with many a profanity in numerous languages she had come crashing down through the branches, arms raised to shield her face the entire way. And she had found herself hanging from the branches several feet above the forest floor.

Of course the bayonet of her trenchgun had proved a quick and helpful tool cutting herself free, landing on the ground just in time to hear voices and the sound of shuffling underbrush headed her way. She didn't speak the language but could recognize Italian well enough when she heard it. Thankfully she had applied camouflage beforehand and dark hair worked well in the night. The two young men who came looking for the source of the noise hadn't seen what had been coming when she sprang on them. The first was taken out with a trio of rounds from her Mauser to the back when they had walked past the tree. The second had Riikka's knife buried deep in his throat before he could say a word of alarm -- though the gunshots did that for him if anybody was nearby to hear them.

That meant Riikka had needed to move quickly. Dragging them to the base of a tree, Riikka had placed the two bodies close together, and had fished out a pair of grenades from their equipment that she rigged under the pressure of their bodies. The only other time spent was fishing her wool cap from her webbing and tucking her hair under it before taking off at a jog. Thankfully, if there was a God, he'd been kind enough to show her the mercy of all her gear surviving the drop. But she still kept quiet and low as she ducked past several patrols, including hiding in the ditch for a time as a convoy of troops and supplies had headed past her towards the beach defenses.

Yet what had looked like a going-well-if-still-FUBAR situation had gone even worse when Riikka had been moving crouched just beneath the lip of an embankment, away from the road and further around the castle to where they had been briefed to meet up. Of course it was around that time when she heard gunshots, closer than those of the beach assault, and sounding like they were coming from her general destination. At that moment the castle had come alive and Riikka but down another profanity as she throw herself to the dirt for cover to avoid any searchlights.

She glanced around her, desperate to find any signs of the rest of her team in the early morning darkness. But when that failed she settled on the fact that her best hope was still making it to the rendezvous point. With her shotgun at the ready, Riikka started that way again at a low crouch, with pursed lips and a beanie pulled tight meaning the whites of her eyes were the only break in the NECO's face-paint and olive drab uniform. As much of an up-front girl as she tended to be, the Fin had no interest in getting spotted by the Italians garrisoned in the castle.


Part Time Llama, Full Time Dude
FM of the Valsh'Nar
Antoinette thought that this had to be some bad joke, here she was some cat-hybrid thing in the middle of the night stuck in a tree. To make matters worse she was blown off course and had landed somewhere right outside of the objective about 75 yards away from a guard post. "Dieu merde..." She mumbled to herself as the wind picked up and the sound of cracking wood hit her ears. Within a few quick moments Antoinette was on the ground, the branch she was stuck on along with her parachute a few feet away where it broke off and landed on the ground.

Scrambling out of her harness, she fumbled around in the dark for her M3 Sub machine gun trying to find it before the guards realized that there was a French commando less than a hundred yards away from them. Quickly locating the small machine gun, she scampered off away from the guard post towards the rally point.

To her luck she wasn't that far off from it, and once she arrived she took a moment to fix herself, dusting the dirt off of her kaki breaches and straightening her resistance armband before tightening her hair bun.As she adjusted her beret over her new cat ears (she figured she would never be used to them) She had to scoff at the crudeness of the British commando outfit she wore, its design though functional was anything but good looking but Antoinette figured that it was better to be hidden then to be shot at by all the Jerrys out here. Once she was done she leaned up against a nearby tree in the clearing that served as the rally point and lit a cigarette, keeping her M3 at the ready in case any non friendly's showed up.


The Ultimate Badass
Game Master
Valerie had found her parachute caught in a tree in the woods when she'd made landfall. Hanging there precariously for a few moments, she put her hands above her head and grabbed each cable and cord. She then put her other hand to the hilt of a combat knife, looked down at the ground a few metres beneath her. She wasn't like people. She had to remember that. She could survive things the average person couldn't. She looked back up to confirm that every cord that was keeping her in the tree was in her grasp. She then grimaced and cut the cords, landing feet first into the forest floor, and looking up from the brush carefully, looking for signs of movement.

Nothing. It was safe to proceed. She double checked that all of her gear was accounted for. Short magazine Lee Enfield rifle? Check. Sten Mk. II with suppressor? Check. Webley Revolver? Check. Knife? Still in her hands. Ammunition? All present and accounted for. Scarf? Still around her neck. She lifted the Sten off of her back and placed a magazine into the receiver pulling the bolt back and proceeding carefully towards the rendezvous point, crouched down in the underbrush. She feared that being blown off course and having to untangle herself from her parachute delayed her - but it was no reason to rush things and become a moving target for the Italians.

So this is how payback starts... she mused gently as she crept through the brush and scrub.


Well-Known Member
Tiff had been following some soldiers through her scope while situated in the tree. Thankfully there were a few dispersed throughout the field between the village and the castleleft, giving her plenty of cover to hide as night turned to day. By the time they had light, she was well hidden, though uncomfortable as hell from the branch in her back. That was a good thing though as it meant she wouldn't fall asleep or become complacent..

Then the castle went on alert, causing her to jerk a little as she worried she had been spotted. Holding her breath as she waited for her tree to e lit up with gunfire, Tiff let her breath out as she counted to fifteen and nothing came... so she began picking her targets. One with a rifle poking out a window went down, throat sprouting a blossom of blood as he dropped to the ground. Quick as she could she cycled the spent shell casing and loaded in a fresh round, pulling up a next target to try and give her group some coverage.
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Well-Known Member
Unit 731 Document No.004157, 5th August of the Imperial Year 2599.
Effects of Falling on a Human Body
Due to a successful operation on a sizable enough Rebel Chinese village we have acquired enough test subjects of median build, height and weight for this experiment. The multi-height wooden scaffold constructed earlier this year for this experiment before it was delayed was used. Subjects will be bound before being used to reduce experimental variables, with spares and survivors handed over to Team B for their experiments. Results are listed below in table format detailing height of drop with derived velocity of impact in the Y axis, and which direction of the body made contact first in the X axis. Results will list severity of injury immediately after the experiment, and if the subject survived, complications the week after. Dead and more than lightly injured subjects are autopsied for maximum accuracy in injury analysis. Copies of these results should be sent to the IJN and IJA to better prepare medical services if any of our soldiers are in danger of falling any of these heights.

"... Fian, you know, we should have burned every last one of those papers."

"Fucking give me a break!" Lieutenant First Class Fian Vel Steyr yelled at his subconcious as he hurtled through the air high above Sicily, it was bad enough that the horrifying memories of reading those documents came to him unbidden long after he was recalled from China, it appeared to have developed a mind of its own in his black haired skull to toss out context-sensitive nightmares at him. This used to trouble him a lot, until reality decided to join in the fun when he was called to an airbase for a secret op only to find his newly assigned team were the demons from the past in the flesh. The feeling of fear dissolved into anger when he realized what a grand betrayal this was. He had to admit though, those were some nice looking demons. Except the Brit dame with the face that looked like she was hit by a frying pan.

"Fuck her!" He yelled again, him and his memories decided this was common agreeable ground to end the flashback session. Coming to his senses, he pulled his safety chute and discovered he wasn't unlucky enough for his No.2 to bail on him too.

Once the world stopped spinning, Fian scanned his surroundings. He wasn't given much time with the new team and the mission plan handed to them by Command was very bare bones. The NECOs dropped without him hours before the first ray of light in the morning for stealth but screw that, there appears to be a firefight in progress somewhere down there. He was the standby replacement CO, and presumably something happened to the regular CO and thats why they tossed him out of the plane, alone, hours later. But he wondered why they need a CO for this bunch anyway, if China was any indication even one of them could tear a platoon of trained men to pieces, let alone a bunch of unmotivated Eyeties. He didn't need to do anything.

Still, he looked around for landmarks, especially the castle keep that HQ given him a map of, that housed the objective they had to ste- Secure!

It was right below him and coming up fast. Jesus Christ.

His mind decided not to tell him the results in cell Y4X2 (No injury, usually). The top of keep was an open floor flanked by a tower on both ends with stone floors and fortifications, why was it unmanned he didn't know, and considering he wasn't shot at yet he could presume the guards were busy paying attention to the NECOs at ground level, he realized the irony that their indiscretion may have saved his bacon. After a noisy crash that was dampened by the increasing gunfire and solid stone floor, he ignored the scraped knee he had suffered and quickly pulled his parachute in before it draped over the side and became a large white tapestry on the castle walls announcing his presence. This done he then scrambled over to bolt the sole trapdoor leading into the western tower he was on.

Then he remembered to breathe.
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Well-Known Member
Yet another tiny white could falling down to ground. Except this was not cloud, it was a parachute. And under it hanged a woman, holding hard on the straps and wondering why the hell is the parachute white, when they are jumping in the middle of the night. Luckily no pasta-lover decided to send her a present in form of a bullet or flak-round. They were probably busy shooting at the planes. Thanks to that Catherine Smith landed safely, though hard in middle of the olive grove.

"Ooomph," she hurted as she fell on her side. "Super-soldier, bollocks. It still hurts damnit." She cursed as she got up, the pain going away very very fast. The girl quickly dragged her parachute into a small ball and stuffed it under a cart that was nearby in the field. Then she went for her strapped, leg-bag where the goodies were. Few minutes later she was armed and equipped, the empty bag hidden with the parachate. On the girls back where two tubes, one shorter and one longer, each had a different scope. Her rifle for now was scope-less as the scope was fairly useless in middle of the night. With her rifle loaded and magazines fitted into ammo-pouches Catherine set out to get to the meeting spot.


That was several hours ago when she landed. The morning was getting closer and she did not find anyone else from the unit. Not April, not Riika, not anyone else. The canadian frowned and moved on. She did not hurry, since being in hurry could get her killed fast. Italians were supposedly no great fighter, but even pack of rats can bring down a cat. Besides her objective was not the castle, random italian troops were there for the british and american paratroopers. Not to mention the allied forced lending by the coast. The booming sound from the distance could already tell her that the landing is on the way.

That all was not her job though. Her job was to get to the castle quietly and regroup. At least for now. The element of surprise should give the small SOG team a good chance to catch the mario with his pants down. And then shoot him in the arse. That all went down as a paratrooper whose chute did no open as Cat got closer to the castle and saw it was on full alert. She cursed at this in her mind and silently slipped across the road, while no one was around. Regroup point was not far now.

Within few minutes she was there. Silent as a cat, if not more. Her improved eye-sight coudl easily see the figure waiting there with smg in her hands. Catherin recognized the french girl. Ant, short from Antoinette. Also known as pineapple, though no one said that to her face. At least not often. The canadian sneaked close and then said. "Thunder." Thought she did not waited for response. "Damnit Ant, you want every pasta-lover in that castle know we are here? Put that cigarette away!"


Part Time Llama, Full Time Dude
FM of the Valsh'Nar
"Ze last zing zees Italians should be worrying about is zee smell of cigarette smoke." Ant said taking one last drag from her nearly gone smoke before snubbing it into the dewy grass with her boot. "Plus, if zey could see it from zee castle I would be amazed with zeir eye site."

flexing her arms above her head she turned and walked over to cat as if she had just woken up from a long nap, "I take it you did not see anyone else on your way 'ere un chat? Or are we alone on dis endevour?" While she waited for the canucks response she pulled out another cigarette and put it in her mouth, but did not light it.

Doshii Jun

Perpetual player
Retired Staff
Jane had landed without a lot of fuss. The Italians on the ground lacked discipline; as more and more parachutes and Allied forces reached land, the fewer units remained cohesive. She was about 700 yards from the rendezvous point, with a row of trees between her and the start of the hill the castle was on. There was a guard post before the treeline, maybe 200 yards away, the hapless guard standing with his submachine gun over his shoulder and his pistol stuck in its holster. An officer? He was looking toward the castle with what Jane could only interpret as mild interest. Probably an NCO.

She took stock of her supplies. All of her weapons survived the drop; she carried her Welrod pistol with her rifle strapped on one shoulder. She had her .45 along her leg. Rifle grenades were in her pack. A little bit of survival gear in the form of biscuits and paracord. Not much. But enough. She found a small copse of bushes and ducked into it, slipping to her knees.

The guard post was about 90 yards away. She slipped her rifle off her shoulder and set her pack down. She blinked away a little sweat from her eyes, careful not to wipe at the brown-black makeup the Fin, Riikka, helped her put on her face. Thin-gloved hands dove into the pack and fished out her grenade launcher mount, a grenade and a clip of blanks.

Launcher first. It snapped into place without much trouble. Jane brought her eyes away and looked around the stubby shrubs and didn't see anyone. She kept her new, pointy cat ears alert. She didn't hear anything either. She quietly loaded the clip into her Garand, then affixed a grenade.

As strong as she was now, she worked the rifle as she as taught, with the butt secured into the ground. She had the sighting down easily, especially in the faint moonlight combined with the white paint of the guard shack.

She squeezed the trigger and watched the guard house as the grenade shot off into the sky.

The guard didn't see much and hardly reacted to the noise, idly turning toward it. Then he was gone with a fat column of smoke, fire and noise after the grenade hit the ground between him and the shack. He fell out of the column a second or two later, limp on the dirt road leading to the castle. Shouts soon echoed in the distance. A little fire started to catch on the lifting road gate.

That might draw a squad or two, Jane thought, unloading her rifle of blanks and reloading it with live rounds. She stored all of her grenade equipment again, readied her Garand and took off for the treeline.

She reached an embankment first, and landed in it. She looked down, and just a dozen yards or so away was another dark figure, clutching a shotgun and generally headed toward the rendezvous point.

Jane sighted her in as fast as the other person had a bead on her.

"Thunder," Jane said.
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Retired Staff
April and Clair finally made their way to the meeting point, near which the blonde American noticed two of their comrades already gathered. "Thunder!" she whispered as loudly as she dared, alerting the other two to their presence. The amount of nearby gunfire- and that explosion a few hundred yards away- was a dead giveaway that most of the 1st SORT had arrived at or near the little castle.

"How are ya two holdin' up?" the midwestern farm girl asked as she crouched low, scanning their immediate surroundings for any patrols or other signs of enemies. they seemed to be fairly safe for the moment however, as their enemies were more concerned with the 'louder' soldiers whom were making a ruckus about the fields and nearer the road. However, opposite their position, on the other side of the castle, a couple more patrols materialized from the main doors, one heading down the road toward the now-burning guard shack, and another splitting off into the overgrown fields, wading through the waist-high crops to look for whatever was causing all the noise. All the while the rifles in the windows watched, though now they began to fire sporadically, after one of their own had been sniped. The Italians had noticed Tiffany's muzzle blast, and now her perch in the tree became the newest target for the Italian guards to hunt for.

As for the unlucky Fian, he had very little to do from where he was but listen to the gunfire, and to the frantic messages of the radioman wafting, in a muffled form, through a nearby wooden trapdoor that must lead down into the radio room. Fian's Map only held so many clues as to the interior of the castle, but being on the roof did give him some vantage points on the surrounding area. For now, though, all he could do was listen to two voices, one in Italian, and one in German, conversing over the radio. Though Fian didn't understand the Italian radioman, the voice of the German seemed to be arguing over something about reinforcements. They would come when they were available, he said, Or maybe they wouldn't come because they were not available. Fian couldn't be certain from this distance.


Well-Known Member
From the middle of the fields would come a series of bursts of rifle fire as Robert engaged the patrol moving into the field. He'd be firing well aimed 3 shot bursts going for chest and head shots to ensure a takedown of the eyeties. With each burst one man would go down and as they counterfired Robert would already be in a crouch moving to his next firing position. He intended to lead the opposition on a merry chase until one of the NECOs could get in and start cutting the patrol down from the back.


Lover of Purple
Private Morgan Page wasn't having a good first mission.

"Out! Get out of the plane!" Someone yelled, which sounded like a perfectly good idea considering the amount of fire now surrounding him and the twenty other guys inside the small Dakota. And then the plane took care of that for them and snapped in half.

Morgan was flung from the broken up plane into the dark sky, opening his eyes just in time to see the severed tail of the plane swing towards him as it fell through the air and swat him away, spinning into the dark. By the time he found the cord for his reserve parachute he was already completely disorientated, as the thin silk spread above him he looked down at the dark ground.

"Yup, can't see a damn thing!" he thought to himself, and then realized that the small bag that had been around his leg, the one carrying nearly all the ammunition for the garand across his chest, was missing. It must have slipped right off his foot during the drop.

He didn't really have time to think about that as the ground rose up to swallow him. Something appeared to be burning beneath him.

The Field

"Wow, wow, wow!" Morgan cried as he fell swiftly into the dark crops, rolling with the impact as he landed with a loud crunch. Untangling himself out of his harness in a few seconds he sat up, lifting the edge of helmet with a thumb and looked around. Dark figures were moving towards him through the tall grass.

"F-flash?" he tried, nervously.

His reply came in the form of a bullet slicing through the strands of wheat, cutting the heads off as it passed next to his shoulder, missing him by inches.

"Ah, nuts."

Morgan scrambled through the grass away from the dark figures, running, crawling, bounding somewhere, anywhere away, keeping low.