The men went about the business Luke had ordered, and did so very effectively.
He was pleased about that.

He knew that while he would’ve preferred the strength of a full military unit, they had a solid group of people who knew to keep their heads in the right place. At least, so far nobody had flung themselves into a panicked rage and did as they were told. Communication was a bit stiff, but what can you expect in wartime. Most soldiers weren’t great debaters.

As they covered their tracks, McGuinness returned to report on their surroundings. South seemed the most obvious choice; continue the mission. As Romo dealt out the weapons of the deceased, the Captain found himself a place where they all could hear him.

“Listen. I know our situation is grim, but I can only think of one logical course to follow. As we were told in the briefing: If this mission fails, then the folks back home could be in serious danger. We head south, towards the mountains. The castle should be there.”

He looked at them all, and thought of something to add.

“We can still do this. There is no way we will see those Nazis succeed, ok? Let’s move. And keep it quiet. We may need our ears to pick up on approaching enemies. Sgt Romo will assign your positions.”

He looked at the sarge and nodded, giving the man permission to take the stage.

I>“Listen. I know our situation is grim, but I can only think of one logical course to follow. As we were told in the briefing: If this mission fails, then the folks back home could be in serious danger. We head south, towards the mountains. The castle should be there.”

The Capt. looked at them all, and thought of something to add.

“We can still do this. There is no way we will see those Nazis succeed, ok? Let’s move. And keep it quiet. We may need our ears to pick up on approaching enemies. Sgt Romo will assign your positions.”
Cpl Clements stowed the gear that Romo had given him and double checked his carbine making sure it was ready.. He pulled a half cigar out of a ammo belt pouch and struck a match on his on his pant leg and lit the cigar as the Capt droned out about their duty and their mission. As a cloud of smoke surrounded him, he smirked and checked his compass before taking a couple paces to the South, eyeing their intended path. He intended to take his usual spot … at the point… he didn’t expect that Romo would say otherwise.. So he taking a grip on the carbine he was ready to lead the way.. With the others behind in what ever order the Sgt. declared.

“We can still do this. There is no way we will see those Nazis succeed, ok? Let’s move. And keep it quiet. We may need our ears to pick up on approaching enemies. Sgt Romo will assign your positions.”
With the Captain leaving the order of march to him Romo set to work at once. Seeing that Clements had already semi-positioned himself as point Romo decided to leave him there with 1 exception.

“Ok listen up Clements your on point, but use the Thompson instead of your carbine as it has a better rate of fire. Spray and pray in the dark is better with a faster firing weapon. McGuinness your next and I want you carrying that carbine I gave you instead of your 1 shot snipe weapon. Captain your after him, then Stewart, and with the 2nd Thompson I’ll bring up the rear. That way we are covered front and back with faster firing weapons then the carbines or .45’s. Ready whenever you are Captain”..........

July 14th 1943, 2 am to 7 am, Day One of Mission
What was left of the unit moved out of the area and headed south. The men took their positions and moved with as much speed and stealth as was possible in a heavily forested area. The full moon helped to illuminate the darkness but the trees and their leaves canopy cut off a lot of the light, leaving the team wandering around in the dark. It is also hard going as you are moving uphill alot.

An hour passes, then two. A pair of 109's fly overhead, very low to the ground. Could be the same ones that shot you down for all you know. You all duck for cover without an order. They fly low passes around the area for the next hour, slowing down your pace, but they don't open fire, nor launch flares so the possiblility remains that you may not have been spotted. The trees would make it hard in broad day light, let alone in the dark like this but daylight will be breaking soon.

Clements calls a halt to the march as you come over a ridge as the dawn sky begins to fill with morning light. Below stretchs a large valley and there is a field of cabbages, carrots and rutabaga all in early growing stages. Further away, about 200 yards, is a farmhouse. The house seems very quiet, and you can make out a driveway that must lead to a roadway. If you can find the road, chances are you can figure out where you are.

OOC: Figured you might want a date and time index.

McGuinness watched the soldiers begin falling into position with his usual steely-eyed stare. While most of them seemed to possess some battlefield experience, his instincts still told him that none of them were true predators. Clearly he was the only sniper in the group, and while the others might have killed men they had not truly hunted them. Going out into no man's land to hunt other human beings fully capable of hunting you back changed a person. The displacement that most soldiers experienced when killing distant targets is not available to a sniper. Where as the soldier sees only a human shape when he pulls the trigger, the sniper looking through their scope must look the person in the face as they end that person's life. Choosing if and when the people in their scopes live or die is like playing the hand of God, and as such it can have serious ramifications on the psyche of the individuals who take this role.

McGuinness was not one of those who cracked under this pressure, but it had certainly had its effects on him none the less. It was only his firm belief in the righteousness of his cause, and his experiences as a youth hunting and trapping for food to feed his hungry siblings, that gave McGuinness the insight to accept that he did only what had to be done. Just as his father and his father's father before him had, he fought to protect not only his country but also those who couldn't protect themselves. In his mind if he had to butcher men as if they were animals in order to accomplish this then so be it, Corban would do what needed to be done. It was this determination that had led to McGuinness's calling card, that and his appreciation for the copy of Divine Comedy that he had read some years ago. Believing as he does that the Nazi's are amongst the worst of all traitors, in that they have betrayed all of mankind in launching their genocidal war, it is not hard see why he would wish to send them to the ninth and lowest level of hell as described by Dante. It was as a symbol of this intent that McGuinness began leaving a nine of spades behind in his sniper nests after successful hunts.

McGuinness halted his musings in order to move into position to support Clements, though he did so only carrying his sniper rifle. "Sure thing Sarge.. though I wouldn't call my girl here a one shot wonder, she may be a bolt action but I can empty a five round clip in a three and a half inch grouping at six hundred yards, and in less then fifteen seconds I might add. Besides, that carbine would be more useful as a paperweight or a club then as a rifle considering that it has a bent firing pin.. falling out of a plane during a firefight is as hard on gear as it is on soldiers Sarge."

As the rest of the small 5 man unit gathered itself McGuinness moved into position to support Clements, however instead of the carbine he did so carrying his sniper rifle. Before Romo himself could say anything, McGuinness beat him to it.

"Sure thing Sarge.. though I wouldn't call my girl here a one shot wonder, she may be a bolt action but I can empty a five round clip in a three and a half inch grouping at six hundred yards, and in less then fifteen seconds I might add. Besides, that carbine would be more useful as a paperweight or a club then as a rifle considering that it has a bent firing pin.. falling out of a plane during a firefight is as hard on gear as it is on soldiers Sarge."

Now Romo was no fool having been in the army for many years more then the private standing before him and had witnessed all forms of lollygagging as it was called. As the carbine had been in working order when handed to McGuinness it was highly unlikely that it had all of a sudden become broken on its own.

“Hand me the weapon Private”

Once in his hands Romo proceeded to do a quick weapons check............

(OOC: Ok need a DM call on this, now though I’m not sure about a World War II carbine I do know from my time inservice that to get to a Assault Rifles firing pin it has to be somewhat disassembled. Now if the firing pin on the carbine is indeed ‘broken’ after it was initially checked out as ok then its clear to Romo that McGuinness did it himself.
However from the time I handed out the weapons till now I do not think he would have had the time to do so WITHOUT being seen as the time lag is only minutes from handing out the gear to marching.)

"Sorry Sarge, but why do you think I'd bring a broken rifle?" McGuinness responded smoothly. "As you can see the only rifle I have on me is my own."

Shrugging to himself internally, McGuinness figured he should have known Romo wasn't going to drop this foolish notion that the carbine was somehow a better weapon then his Springfield. Either he had a false idea about the weapons platforms or he was one of those micromanaging types that just had to have every minute detail his way, even if that meant endangering lives. While the mission was already proving to be more complicated then it first appeared it looked like it would only be growing more so at this rate.

[OOC: I rp'd that he moved off to strip the weapon in order to ensure that it would have a irrepairable defect, one way or the other, and that he intended to lose the rifle afterwards. I then rp'd in my last post that he only has his sniper rifle on him when he joins the march. While you could certainly try to discover where the rifle is now it is clearly not on McGuinness's person.]

Sgt Romo set out to assign everybody their positions, but Luke noted how Brutal took his own spot before any orders had been issued. He made sure to remember this, for he hoped not that the man had a habit of assuming orders before they were handed out. The Captain was sure that the corporal had enough experience to determine his right course in most cases. Still, he feared there would be times that he wouldn’t. After all, this wasn’t your average operation.

But his pondering was interrupted by a conversation between Romo and McGuinness. What were they thinking, quarrelling in an otherwise silent forest.

“Sergeant, private, I told you to keep it quiet. We don’t need this.”

He turned to Romo: “McGuinness can keep his weapon of choice. But you…” he faced McGuinness, “you will listen to your superior next time. We can’t have friction in this small a team.”

“Now both of you man up, and start walking!”

Although he had been whispering, his hissing tone made it clear that there was no more discussion to this matter.

At dawn they reached a valley, where a farmhouse was the first sign of civilization they had encountered since their landing. He took a moment to take in their surroundings, scanning the area for any signs of the castle, or any other landmark.

He didn’t like the open fields of the valley. They would be easy targets here, eagerly spotted by whoever was looking out for them, or any other form of invaders.

“Sgt Romo. Do I remember correctly that you speak German fluently? I want you to head out to that farm with as little equipment as possible, and see what you can learn. Lose your jacket. Tell them you’re a private in the German army and that you’ve wrecked your vehicle a little further and got lost. You’re looking for the castle. If the farm is clear, we will follow.”

“McGuinness, you provide cover at all times. Keep your eyes open.”

He eyed Doc and Corp. Clements. “Doc, keep an eye on the west end of the valley. Brutal, scan the east.”

“Oh, and Sergeant…” he told Romo before he left, “Don’t forget to greet them properly.”

Brutal had taken up the point position and it looked like Sgt Romo didn’t have a problem with that.. In the way he saw it he was the logical choice.. The Sniper wasn’t going to be the point man. .. Certainly not the Doc… or the Captain.. Though Brutal would love to see how he did…. And he knew the Sgt would probably take the rear guard.. So that left only him at point…

Hefting the Thompson that Romo had insisted he carry… he didn’t have a problem with that… the Thompson would be better at close range… which they would be in within these woods..

The process was slow with little light … and the buzzing of the ME overhead looking for survivors … them… was slowing them even more… but after what seemed like an eternity in the dark… they came to a farmhouse…

They stopped and checked out the area… it seemed harmless… but you could never count on that… Brutal looked back at the others assembled there with him … his gaze paused on the Private and he thought of the little tiff that had happened before they had started out.. Brutal didn’t get the Private… he seemed to have a screw loose … but what counted was how the man handled himself in combat… if he could hold his own and fire that rifle as well as he seemed to think he could… then he would be worth his salt… but time would tell.

“Sgt Romo. Do I remember correctly that you speak German fluently? I want you to head out to that farm with as little equipment as possible, and see what you can learn. Lose your jacket. Tell them you’re a private in the German army and that you’ve wrecked your vehicle a little further and got lost. You’re looking for the castle. If the farm is clear, we will follow.”

“McGuinness, you provide cover at all times. Keep your eyes open.”

He eyed Doc and Corp. Clements. “Doc, keep an eye on the west end of the valley. Brutal, scan the east.”

“Oh, and Sergeant…” he told Romo before he left, “Don’t forget to greet them properly.”
Brutal chuckled a bit at … what he thought was a joke… from the Captain… as he pulled out another cigar and lit it up…

“Don’t forget to kiss their asses while your at it Sarge.”

Then with a nod to the Captain he moved a couple paces to the East and took up a guard position… he squatted down on his haunches and scanned the East… with an occasional glance back at the direction of the farmhouse where the Sgt would be going.

Jack just stood there watching the little drama unfold.
It reminded him of a pack of wolves vying for Alpha male.
Young pup pushing his way around, the number one rival showing him he isn’t big enough yet and then the pack leader putting them both in their place.

It was almost good enough to be an old Indian tale.
Well at least that’s settled, for now.

As they headed out Jack saw Brutal pull out a cigar and light it.

Oh great, let’s light a damn flair and use it as a headlight. Gee that smoke travels for miles and no one around here smokes cigars unless they’re a Nazi Officer.
Jack fell in behind the Captain as they made their way through the brush.
With bright moonlight it was easy to maintain about 5 to 10 yards between each other without losing sight.

The night always seemed to make sounds travel easier.
Jack heard the engines of the 109’s from far enough off to get out of sight.

I hope Brutal’s smart enough to dowse that stogie.
The glow from that thing could give us away.
After several passes the planes moved on and they headed out again.

The group moved on and as dawn was breaking they stopped near a farmhouse.
The Captain sent Romo on a recon and gave the rest of us our orders.

“Doc, keep an eye on the west end of the valley. Brutal, scan the east.”
Brutal chuckled a bit at … what he thought was a joke… from the Captain… as he pulled out another cigar and lit it up…
As Brutal started to move for a better position, Jack hissed at him, “Hey Brutal, don’t you know you can die from smoking?

Some sniper is going to see that flaming log in your mouth and blow your f****** head off!”

Jack moved to take up position to watch to west, he hoped the cigar smoke didn’t roll down to the farmhouse while Sarge was trying to convince the locals he was alone.

As Brutal started to move for a better position, Jack hissed at him, “Hey Brutal, don’t you know you can die from smoking?

Some sniper is going to see that flaming log in your mouth and blow your f****** head off!”
Brutal chuckled as he took a hit off his cigar and blew the smoke in Doc's direction.

"Dont worry Doc.. the bullet will probably go through me and kill you too."

Brutal didnt worry about the cigar giving them away... if someone was close enough to smell the cigar smoke they would have to be part Bloodhound to track it to them.... and as for the glow.. he knew it was a risk and never smoked them when they were trying to be covert... at the moment they were in the woods near a farmhouse that they were about to send someone up to and talk to the residents.. if there was danger.. then they were about to become exposed to it and no thanks to his cigar... so.. for now he puffed away while waiting.. he hated waiting.. so he smoked.

"Don’t worry Doc.. the bullet will probably go through me and kill you too."
Jack smiled to himself and whispered back to Brutal,
“I’m safe then, it’s not likely a bullet will get through that Bull’s head of yours. Anyway I’ve got dibs on your cigars. ”

Jack strained to see any movements to the west and tried to distinguish anything that didn’t sound like morning.

“Sgt Romo. Do I remember correctly that you speak German fluently? “

“Yes sir since birth”

“I want you to head out to that farm with as little equipment as possible, and see what you can learn. Lose your jacket. Tell them you’re a private in the German army and that you’ve wrecked your vehicle a little further and got lost. You’re looking for the castle. If the farm is clear, we will follow.”

“Ahh sir even without the jacket I’m not dressed as would a German private but they may not know that being out here and all so be ready to assault the house if needed.“

Romo quickly removed his weapons and other gear including his BDU jacket keeping only 1 .45 pistol tucked behind him with his shirt over it and a extra clip in his pocket.
As he started to move away towards the farm the Captain gave him 1 more piece of advice that being raised by German parents was perhaps a bit trite.

“Oh, and Sergeant, Don’t forget to greet them properly.”

“Yes sir I know the drill”

Romo found himself moving across a field towards a two level brick building, painted beige with a terrace on the south side with a number of chairs. The front of the terrace Romo could see as he got closer was open, but there were no people visible.

Strange an open door, yet no one around? The Master Sgt thought to himself.

Stepping up to the open door of the terrace he stopped and knocked on the doors siding

“Hallo, Hallo, ist gemand hier?”*

As Romo awaited an answer he continued to stand respectfully on the terrace, even taking a step back as to not seem too threatening to whoever would answer his call.....

(*Hello, Hello is anybody here?)

Sgt. Romo moved up the short wooden stairs to the cover terrace that surrounded the south and west side of the house. There were no signs of life, no response to his calling out. Once upstairs he looked through the nearest window, about the middle of the house.

Inside was a dining room and parlor. The large wooden table was set for dinner, tablecloth put down, a big stock pot in the centre and bread set out as well - just like everyone should be coming down for a meal. One chair, at the head of the table had been knocked over and laid on the ground. Moving to his left, he looked in on a big family room, comfy couch and chairs set close to a radio, a large fireplace with pictures on the mantel and hunting gun of some sort hung above. Two chairs were knocked over here as well.

Moving to the open front door, The Sarge saw that many feet had travelled through the doorways recently, by all the dirt tracked in and out of the house. Boot prints were easily seen in the dirt, going up and down the stair on this side of the terrace and down the driveway. To the north was a barn, though not a very large one. The door was also opened and swinging in the breeze.

Back at the end of the forest, the rest of the team looked on. McGuiness kept an eye on Romo through his scope. He couldn't see any movement from the house, even a brief look to the second floor windows hadn't shown anyone. Seemed strange that no one would be home.

Brutal and Jack traded some comments quietly as they stay on watch. The captain looked on wondering if this farmhouse could be a refuge for the team, or a trap.


OOC: If you move to check out the barn, you will no longer be covered by the sniper as the house blocks the way.

As Romo moved around the small farm house, carefully looking in through various windows, he got the feeling that the farm house was empty, which in and of itself was strange. With the barn the only structure left to investigate the Master Sgt knew to move there would put him out of line of sight from the others and that would not be a good idea.

Slowly moving back to a spot where he could be easily seen by McGuiness he gave the sign for the others to move forward to join him outside of the house. With that done he kept an eye on the barn and a hand on his 1911 as he awaited the arrival of the others..........