"Downtime"

[SuperCommando]

As everybody was working their way across the obstacles, GySgt. Malone and the assistant DIs watched and took notes on their performance. They kept silent, offering no advice, encouragement, or (thankfully) even a hint of verbal abuse. Malone’s stylus scribbled furiously over his datapad, but exactly what he was jotting down was anybody’s guess. He kept his face deliberately blank.

Not even when four separate people failed did he so much as berate them. Lt. Zaboroski had been delivered to the camp surgeon and was expected to return later in the day, One Captain Llyod took a splash right at the end and the other disqualified herself to help him, and Staff Sergeant Wolfe nearly drowned but had been pulled out and resuscitated by two nearby DIs. Malone merely jotted it all down and moved on.

Laying on the grass beyond the obstacle courses were a couple of large, open crates. It was here that the Gunney waited after everybody was finished. Tucking his datapad away in its case on his belt, he pulled out an assault rifle from one of the crates.

“All righty boys and girls, time for the REAL fun,” he announced once everybody had gathered around. “The next exercise is a small unit combat simulation. In this crate you will find protective vests…” he gestured to a DI standing nearby, who was already wearing one. They featured a groin protector and collar, as well as three pouches in front. “…And in this crate are your weapons. In this exercise you will be using MA5Cs equipped with simunition rounds.”

Malone suddenly lifted his rifle and fired a shot at the DI wearing the vest. The weapon barked and spit out a casing, recoiling back into his shoulder just as if he was using live ammo. The human demonstration dummy, however, merely let out a sharp “Oof!” and a splotch of red paint appeared on his chest.

“In each vest are two spare magazines and a pair of ballistic glasses. Each gun already has a full mag loaded. Gear up while I explain the exercise.”

He dropped his assault rifle back in the crate, stepping back to allow people to gather the equipment as he talked.

“As you can see, behind me is a forested area. The forest lasts about one kilometer, beyond which you will find a small cluster of buildings. HERE ARE YOUR INSTRUCTIONS: There are FIFTEEN drill instructors waiting for you, either in the forest or the buildings, pretending to be enemy forces. You must eliminate ALL enemies to finish the exercise. A hit anywhere on the torso is a kill shot, a hit to the arms or legs can be ignored. DO NOT aim for the head. If you score a kill shot on an enemy, they will get down and MUST NO LONGER BE TARGETED. These men have volunteered to do this exercise for you, so please respect them and do not shoot them when they are down. IF A KILL SHOT IS SCORED ON YOU, you must raise your hand high and keep it there to show you are out, and then report back here to this spot and await further orders. DO NOT say one word to anybody as you leave, because dead people don’t talk, and spoiling enemy positions to your teammates or whatever is UNSPORTSMANLIKE and CHEATING, understood? DON’T DO IT! Also, there will be no grappling or hand-to-hand fighting in this exercise. If you find yourself at extreme close range with and enemy, simply yell ‘tag’ to eliminate them.”

“Now then,” he said, getting his datapad back out and bringing up a list of names. “You will be divided into two teams. If I call your name, you will be team alpha… Raspallo! Lloyd! Lloyd! Redsont! Landcaster! Rom! Now if I call your name, you will be team bravo… Colsten! Wolfe! Dombrovski! Fisher! Abrams! Norgate! There, that’s everyone. The key to this particular exercise is TEAMWORK, not just within your own team, but between both teams as well. It is over when all enemy targets have been found and eliminated, or if all of you are eliminated. And one last thing…”

When Malone made a gesture, one of the assistant DIs brought him a pair of handheld radios. “I promised the two people to finish first get something special. Raspallo, Colsten, get over here!”

He handed one radio to each of them. “In order to communicate and strategize between teams, one man on each team will act as radio operator. No passing it on to somebody else, either. You are the only ones on your teams with a radio, so if one of you gets eliminated, both teams lose contact with each other. Just something to keep in mind.”

The Gunnery Sergeant then turned to address the group as a whole for one last instruction. “All right then! You have as long as you need to discuss plans within your group and with the other team. When you are ready, move out and show us what you’re made of!”

----------------

NOTE: Let’s start a countdown of enemy targets in the OOC thread. Every time you take out an enemy, post the new number remaining (not just how many you “kill”, but the actual total). This way it should be clear to everybody (at least OOC) how many are left at all times.

A lot of directions and details to remember this time, I know. But you can do it!

[Deleted]

Redsont suited up and double checked the straps on his vest before heft his "military issued" paint ball gun. He looked it over before grabbing the two extra mags and placed each mag in it's one pouch before putting on the ballistic glasses. After suiting up he went over to the other members of Alpha.

"Alright, I recommend a serpentine path through the woods. We'll locate the enemy faster, and they'll have a harder time tracking our movements. But that's up to the leader, so who's up for it?", Redsont said.

He wasn't one to take charge unless he needed to. He figured that the serpentine manuever would allow them to stay alive longer, allow them to search all around them so they weren't ambushed, and confuse their enemy.

[spartan129]

Raspallo put the gear they had been given, and hefted the paintball gun into his arms. Taking the radio with mingled feelings of pride and guilt. He had been put on a team with the two officers. This wouldn't be pretty...He again tried to give the man an apologetic look as the two teams grouped up. When Redsont pointed out that they'd need a leader, Raspallo spoke up:

"I think one of the Captains would have the most experience in such matters." He was trying to make amends with them, a task that seemed impossible. Subliminally, he adjusted the radio to a more comfortable position.

[nex]

Crash took the radio with mixed feelings. The extra piece of kit would be useful, but he didn't enjoy the prospect of added responsibility. He laid it out on a crate, before carefully drawing out his PDA from an inner pocket and laying it alongside it. He pulled on one of the padded vests. It was uncomfortable, but he didn't fancy being hit by one of those shots with less protection. He slipped both his PDA and the small radio into one of the pockets.

He tucked a pair of spare mags in the other two, before hefting one of the heavy assualt rifles. He treated the weapon with disdain; his preference in recent years had always been with covenant weapons; they were lighter and packed a heavier punch. For now it would have to do.

Taking out the radio again, he checked the frequencey and power levels, before holding down the transmit button.

"Colsten to Raspello, Comms Check."

He paused for a second, thinking.

"We're gonna need shorter radio designations."

[spartan129]

"Comms working, Colsten," Raspallo replied, hoping he wasn't cutting off a teammate, "And I suppose we could simply use our team names." In Raspallo's mind, this would make the most sense: Alpha and Bravo wee easy to refer to each other as.

Although he wasn't showing it, the young Corporal was growing more excited for this task with every passing minute. It reminded him of his childhood days, engineering war games with friends. He never liked to hold the responsibility of leader, but did like the fact that he was important as the radio operator...A twang of guilt at how he had gotten the position hit him again.

[Dutch]

Okay, perhaps Fisher was a tad out of shape from the excessive amounts of partying that had occurred after being made a "Hero of Lethe." By the time he'd gotten to the severely uneven monkey bars, he was panting pretty heavily. When this was through, time to start the evening exercises again.

He wasn't first or second, not even third. He'd gotten himself strategically tangled in the last part of the course to assure of this. He'd seen plenty of guys, back in training, trample each other into the mud to get the special first place "prize" before, only to receive a extra ten laps instead.

So Fisher stalked in taking sixth place. Once everyone else was through, he stood around, intently watching the MA5 being handled by the Gunny. As he heard the explanation of this elaborate combat exercise unfold, he let his lips split apart in a grin.

"Oh boy, this'll be fun." He muttered quietly to himself. Malone split them apart into teams and Fisher grouped off with his team. He was feeling better now, a rifle in his hands and with his second wind coming on, he anticipated facing off against the instructors. An evil grin crossed his face as his slid on his armor and checked out his team.

Ah, so he was with the ONI guy, Colsten. This should be interesting, Fisher looked forward to seeing what ONI was teaching their guys nowadays.

[Martial Virtue]

Dylan took one look at the corporal when he and Sierra went to join their designated team and shot him a nasty glare. Sierra noticed the exchange but said nothing. She’d been planning on having a quick chat with the corporal following the obstacle course to appease both parties, but that would have to wait. In the meantime, she put on her ballistic glasses and adjusted her vest, keeping a tight grip on her assault weapon with her left hand. The captain took another moment to survey the team – Alpha – and decided that she would take command of it. Knowing Dylan, he’d probably send the corporal off to an early paintball “death” without much regard to the objective at this point.

“I’ll take charge,” Sierra said. “Corporal, you’ll keep me updated on Bravo’s position through the exercise. Redsont, I like your idea of making an unpredictable path through the forest; that sounds like our best bet for now. Let’s try to get coordinated with the other team as soon as possible, and we’ll get moving.”

[spartan129]

"We could coordinate a path where we took a serpentine path on the east side and they took a rounded path on the west side," Raspallo suggested, "But that's just my idea." He amended the statement to sound more respectful. He did think that that was a rather good idea, though...while Alpha slithered through, Bravo could arc around them. They would meet up on the other side, and if there were still DIs left, then the two teams could simply double back, closer to the center.

[nex]

"The problem with that plan..." He spoke casually, off-handedly almost, as he checked his rifle over. He didn't want to sound like he was interferring in their plan.

"is that without FoF tags, we won't know when we're approaching each other, and if we lose Comms at any point, we could end up shooting at each other."

He paused letting that sentence drop. A Friendly-fire incident in this setting would be disasterous.

"Any plan where we split off and planned to regroup elsewhere, would be solely dependent on the Comms man, and up-to date location mapping, or cross-checking every contact with your team. That's not really feasible."

Personally, he preffered a standing line sweep, with the two radio men helping to keep track of contacts and 'kills'.

[spartan129]

Raspallo didn't know how to respond to that, so he figured he'd let Captain Lloyd assess the situation.

---------------

Wolfe had not enjoyed nearly drowning.

He had hoped he could make it at least a little bit further through the course, Before having to get a brace of sorts for a small injury. He took a vest and gun, and grouped up with the rest of the soldiers and Marines. Unless the Staff Sergeant was mistaken, he was the highest-ranked member of Bravo Team. He figured he would take command of them; they'd need a sufficient leader.

"Crash, you make a good point," Wolfe said matter-of-factly, "I suggest that we establish countersigns. If a radio operator is taken out, then we'll use them. It won't help with stealth, but hell, it beats shooting each other."

[Martial Virtue]

Sierra frowned in thought for a second and pulled her MA5C into both hands. “Alpha and Bravo teams will move together,” she said after a moment. “I agree with the spook; we don’t want to get separated out here and risk not having contact with one another in case a radioman gets hit - and then take each other out by accident.” She glanced up at the expectant stares of the members of her team. “We move together and keep each other in line of sight at all times. Not so bunched up, but not too spread out, either. A few meters of maneuver space each should be good. Anything important that we absolutely have to communicate to the other team, we use the radio. Otherwise, keep the simple stuff to hand signals. We should be able to get through the exercise easier that way, and it'll give us something to fall back on if either of our comm guys get hit.

“Anything else anyone would like to add before we start, or are we ready?”

[Jakob]

Dmitri frowned and raised his hand, looking questionably at the Captain.

"Ma'am, going together will make a larger target and slow us the hell down. I do not think we should risk it."

[mrkaizer]

Michael took another long drag from his cigarette and scrutinized Jacobs face, the distant stare.
“How are you sleeping?” he asked, exhaling a large cloud of grey smoke towards the window. It expanded as it floated, then was caught in the draft and was sucked out of the room.
“If you’re having trouble sleeping, I have a few options if you’d like to do something about it.”
Combat stress reaction, post-traumatic stress disorder…there were too many veterans and too few psychiatrists Michael thought to himself. And there was a huge need for personnel in the field. He hoped that if humanity survived this war, it wouldn’t be made up of broken veterans who had seen too many battles.

[Deleted]

Redsont decided to speak up. He had learned a thing or two on Lethe, particularly from the spartan he worked with. He learned a few of the spartan's secrets, such as signals spartans used when radio was out of the question.

"I have an idea, we go with the two seperate paths and used the radios to check our positions every fifteen minutes. And if we encounter a group but aren't sure who's who and can't use the radio do to distance, we could use a signal. A word phrase would be to easy for the enemy to catch onto. So how about a tune? I think I got one.", Redsont said before whistling the first five parts of row your boat.

Redsont than waited as he glanced around to see what the others might think about his tune signal idea.

[Jakob]

Jakob stretched his legs a bit as he poured him self another glass of the drink, slowly bringing himself into the world of a drunk and refused to care what the doctor thought. He did not know what he went through, screw his useless opinion. Jakob merely looked up with a solemn face, his mouth straight and his features solid and motionless. He opened his mouth to speak but stopped, tripping over words.

"I do not sleep." Is what he said. Taking a pause in order to gather himself more. He straightened his PT clothing and moved a bit more. Squirming to get comfortable. He coughed and continued, "the shit I have seen, it is something I have night mares of every night." He took a long chug of his drink, ignoring the burning sensation. "Do you know what it is like to see your father die and for no one to stop it? To see him die in a matter so violent that it scars you for life?"

He quickly chugged the wrest of the drink down, coughing a bit before he started his preach again, "or to see the men you command and promised to not allow to die, killed before your eyes when you could have stopped it?" Or set the glass down and looked at the floor. "Or to kill civilians, innocent people, and only realize too late that the rebel outpost you were told to lob a grenade into was actually a shelter?" He paused and looked up, meeting the doctors eyes.

"These are the night mares I relive every night, the faces of family, friends, innocent lives. Each one equally dead and gone. Each one with me some how causing their death. These are the events that play through my head, every time I close my eyes and every time I fall asleep." Jakob sat on the bed and brought his legs up, wincing a bit at the pain in his chest. He closed his eyes.

"Sometimes... I enjoy it. Being able to remember these things is a mixed blessing. It is as if they are still alive..." he drifted off, then his eyes darted open and he turned to the doctor.

"Then you realize... they are all dead."

[mrkaizer]

Michael sipped his drink and listened to Jakob. He had heard the tale before, both as an intern and after his graduation. It was the price of war. A price paid by every member of the armed forces that saw action, by every displaced civilian, and by people such as himself. People that had to pick up the broken pieces of men, both literally and figuratively, and try to put them back together again. All the king’s horses and all the king’s men…

Meeting Jakob’s eyes Michael debated whether or not to flag him as unfit for active duty, and have him transferred to a mental healthcare facility. It was clear that he was suffering from PTSD. He was needed in the field, there was no doubt about that, but would he do more harm than good? And even if he did function as he should, and didn’t break down, he would still do himself even more harm.
Michael sighed inwardly; he wasn’t qualified for this crap. If you came in with your guts hanging out, fine, Michael was a skilled trauma surgeon and knew it, but this?

It felt like the tale was drawing to a close, at least for now, and he had to make a decision. Damn it, this should have been picked up earlier. He had to report it, it would be insane, not to mention illegal, to do anything else.

Michael got up when Jakob finished speaking.
“Wait here a minute, I’ll get something.” He walked to the pharmacy and entered the code to open the door. From one of the large shelves he selected a small bottle of pills, and walked back to Jakob.
“These will help you sleep.” He said, handing the bottle to Jakob. “Baby blues. Take one after you’ve gone to bed. You’ll be out like a light after a few minutes. They metabolize quickly too, they’ll be out of your system in…15 minutes, give or take. That means you can be woken in case of an emergency during the night. Downside is that they won’t keep you asleep, like if you wake from nightmares.”

Michael hesitated a moment before continuing.
“You do know I have to report this, right? I’ll have to make a report in your medical file. They’ll send a psychiatrist to interview you. I’m not taking you off active duty…yet, unless you want that. The psychiatrist will make that decision when and if they get around to sending one. I imagine they are pretty busy these days.”

[Martial Virtue]

"Duly noted, Sergeant Dombrovski, but the alternatives aren't looking any better at the moment. The order stands." Sierra turned to face the Helljumper who'd also spoken up. "Sergeant Redsont, I'm wary of anything that'll give away our position, and you can bet that in most cases, even a preselected tune would. What works for super soldiers won't always work for us regular folk."

With that, Captain Lloyd shifted the assault rifle in her hands and said, "All right then. Let's get started."

[Jakob]

Jakob stared forward for a minute. Trying to process the entire thing. He could not, at any costs, allow this to happen. His men needed him, he needed them. He could not leave them with some one else, they were his men for Christ sake. Jakob took a deep breath, forgetting where he was. He was good with emotions but sadness was not one of them, it never was.

His hand released the glass he was holding, it smashing across the ground. He still stood forward, shaking a bit as his breaths came out ragged. He slowly came back to reality and turned to the doctor. His mouth agape a bit.

"Y-you can't do that... my men, I can not leave them. I do not care if you have god damned Admiral fucking Cole transfer to the hell jumpers just so he can lead my men. I have to lead them." He quickly looked around a bit, trying to think of something to make his argument work more. He stuttered again.

"I-I-I can p-put in a good word for you t-to Admiral Ackerson. I can c-call him up right now! If he listens to anyone it will be m-me!" Jakob knew he had no argument but was trying to convince himself more than the doctor at this point. He desperately looked around again, trying to find something. Anything.

[mrkaizer]

Training and experience kicked in, and Michael took a step back and adopted a relaxed pose. Instinctively his hand went to where his radio would have been, and hence the panic button, back when he was a paramedic. It would have alerted dispatch and sent the police, there had been plenty of psychiatric emergencies in the time he spent in the LAS. Of course he didn't have a radio now. He made a quick check of his surroundings finding nothing he, or Jakob for that matter, could use. No sedatives, no weapons, and the nearest comms device was at his desk across the room. All of the corpsmen were out monitoring the exercises.

He let Jakob finish raving, then took a careful step towards him. His mind quickly went through his options.
“Take it easy Jakob, calm down.” He held up his hands, palms forward, and forced a smile.
“I know how you feel about leaving your men. But what if something like this happens in the field? What if you break down then? From lack of sleep, fatigue, or seeing something that reminds you of old battles and bad memories? You need to cope with this before you can safely command men into battle again Jakob.”

Michael motion towards a chair by the desk.
“Why don't you have a seat, and we can talk about this?”
There wasn't any doubt any more. This soldier was coming off the line right away. The only thing in question was how that would happen. Hopefully it would be quietly, and not sedated and under guard.

[Cabel]

[UNSC Training Ground, Drill Grounds: Epsilon Eridani System: Planet Reach: 0800 Hours, Monday, April 15, 2531]

The sun glinted off the titanium triple-barreled M41 LAAG as the olive-drab Warthog, a four-wheel drive utility and reconnaissance vehicle set on four over-sized tires, bounced along the dirt and gravel road leading to the particular UNSC Training grounds designated to house the “Heroes of Lethe”. The very men and women the media had been hailing as heroes, and had been raising morale from what Outer Colonies remained to the core worlds of the Inner Colonies. What the media wouldn’t tell the masses of the many worlds of the Earth Sphere and those UNSC personnel fortunate enough not to have been cast into harm’s way to face the hordes of the Covenant was how the very victories the media celebrated were hard fought. How many lives lay down for their eternal rest on worlds burned to cinders? It had been nearly six years since the first encounter with the Covenant, and for now the UNSC had been fighting a stalemate. Some of the Outer colonies had been lost…no, he couldn’t dwell on that.

His old Drill Instructor back when he’d been a green recruit going through boot camp had an old saying every morning before the day’s exercises, that if a soldier dwelled on thoughts of death or of defeat the battle had already been lost. Mark hadn’t entirely understood what his Drill Instructor had said after Boot Camp as he’d been piss’n’vinegar and ready to fight, but years down the road he’d come to understand what that man had meant. A soldier had to have his mind clear, ready to do what they must in order to preserve the cause. Mark had tried to instill that very lesson in his recruits during his time as a Drill Instructor back at Ft. Lewis on Earth, but even the best training couldn’t prepare a freshly minted Private for their first firefight. The men and women he’d been given orders to drill weren’t fresh recruits, but hardened veterans…at least most of them. There were those personnel that hadn’t fought on Lethe, but as with any war the amount of novices declined by the day. Maybe the Heroes of Lethe would take his lessons to heart, and would live to train others.

The reassuring growl of the Warthog’s hydrogen-injected twelve-liter eight cylinder engine echoed for miles through the ravine, as the vehicle’s sole occupant and driver approached the instacrete gate house and the adjacent instacrete machine gun-bunker lined with sandbags. The Warthog came to a steady stop in front of the chain-link fence, and one of the guards manning the gate stepped up to the vehicle requesting photo-ID and security clearance of the driver. The marine carried his MA5C Assault Rifle slung over his shoulder, and wore the standard issued fatigues given to the military police branch of the Corps.

“Sir, can I see your ID and orders?” the Lance Corporal asked.

“Of course,” Master Sergeant Mark ‘Spade’ Sorelson replied, reaching into the fatigue jacket’s left breast pocket to retrieve his ID. He’d find his orders to the camp in the right breast pocket of the jacket before handing both to the Lance Corporal. “Master Sergeant Mark Sorelson, assigned to Gunnery Sergeant Malone. I’m supposed to drill the Heroes of Lethe, the men and women the media’s treating as celebrities,”

“Fresh from Earth, Master Sergeant?” the Lance Corporal asked, looking over and verifying the orders with the Main Control of the Camp.

“Yes. I took the first flight from Ft. Lewis, and landed at New Alexandria’s spaceport an hour ago. The UNSC FleetCOM must want to see what the Heroes of Lethe are about, if they thought it prudent to order an old Drill Instructor from his duties back home to Reach,” Mark explained, being polite and answering any of the Lance Corporal’s questions. The Lance Corporal had only been following his orders, and filling them out to the letter by stopping every vehicle that came up to the gate.

“Your orders check out, Master Sergeant. The Gunnery Sergeant has already started the morning’s exercises with the Heroes of Lethe, but you’ll be able to find him on the exercise grounds,” the Lance Corporal replied, having received confirmation from the Camp’s Main Control. The marine handed the Master Sergeant his ID and orders before signaling for the fence to be rolled back.

“Thanks, Lance Corporal,” Mark said, before manually shifting the gears of the Warthog to drive before proceeding through the open gate into the camp’s grounds. The gate rolled back into position behind the Master Sergeant’s vehicle, as Mark made his way through the Training camp’s vast grounds.

[Jakob]

Dombroviski sighed and looked around, everyone was standing awkardly wondering what to do, what heroes these hardened veterans were, so brave as to not want to be shot by practice weapons. He turned to the Captain and rudely remarked "I guess that scholarship to west point really paid off didn't it Captain?"

He started walking towards the target, the stock of his weapon nestled under his arm pit. He stopped and turned on his heel. "I got point, start moving already."

[Deleted]

Redsont sighed and began to walk towards the forest. It wasn't a tactic he would use, but the again these weren't typical circumstances of battle. So Redsont figured just to push through and show these marines how to get things done. He pushed through the beginning thicket of bushes and entered the forest in a half crouch. He watched his footing as to not make too much noise, as he listened for anything ahead of him. There was a noise from behind him, which Redsont assumed was the other soldiers behind him. Shortly after was a noise from the front left, along with what appeared to be the shaking of a tree branch. Redsont instinctively jumped to the side as three paint balls raced through the air above him. Redsont ggot back to his feet and aimed the rifle at the source of the shaking branch and fired five shots into the branch. There was a startled gasp then a moan as the shrouded foe moved from his cover revealing himself and the bright colored splotches on his chest. The man smirked as he walked towards Redsont with his hands up, making Redsont slightly wary of the man.

It wasn't until the man made a shifty glance to the left that Redsont felt the need to react. He leaned behind a tree as several paintballs impacted against the tree's bark. Redsont hadn't managed to find out where the enemy was and didn't dare poke his head out. So he thought of another tactic, he would force them out. Redsont launched from behind the tree and three more paint balls shot past him. He engaged in a roll towards where the paint balls came from and saw the "bogey" by her rifle's sleek metal against the green of the bush she was hiding behind. Startled by Redsont's manuever, she lowered her guard where Redsont slipped in and placed his hand on her shoulder.

"Tag, your done.", Redsont whispered as he gently pushed her back and went back to focusing on the remaining forces.

(OOC: Thank you, and that's how you do it! 13 left, be sure to pick up the slack. )

[Jakob]

Dombroviski snapped his fingers shortly after the sergeant's maneuver. He shook his head and muttered how stupid the guy was. "Nice dance sergeant, I do not think split jaws will be as amused though. But hey who am I to judge." He said, turning around and moving on slowly. His feet crunched the many branches on the ground and he noticed the density of the trees lightening a bit.

He continued forward, his gun half raised and half lowered as he slowly looked in both directions. Not a soul, or at least that is what they wanted him to think. He slowly moved and then heard a louder crunch ahead of him, something only he heard. He raised his hand in a fist and got to a crouch, signalling for everyone to stop.

He looked behind him for half a second and then looked back. Moving is finger to the Captain, he scrunched up the index finger' signalling for her to move up. Waiting for her to do so, he waited to hear her quick foot steps. Two eyes staring at her as his head turned, one of them a different color with the side of the face it is on covered in a massive burn mark. He coughed lightly to clear his throat.

He waved his finger straight ahead; where he wanted her to look, not daring for them to see him point out a location specifically and said "those two rocks by the giant tree slightly to the right; straight ahead. I count two tangos." He then did a similar thing to the left,
"where those two trees tangle and grow over each other, one behind it; two behind the rocks to the right and on to the fallen tree.

Finally doing the same thing to his right, he whispered "then we got a machine gun nest to the right behind the old log and rocks. He coughed a bit again and turned to the captain.
"Ma'am, this whole area is a kill zone. I say we withdraw and do it quietly."

--

Jakob was visibly shaking at this point. He looked at the seat and then back at the doctor, his pupils darting between the two. Slowly they slowed down and settled on the seat, sighing as he came to terms, he walked over to the seat and sat down. Resting his hand on his jaw and leaning forwards, he moved his eyes to him.

"Damn I am a mess, ain't I doc." He swallowed his pride, his Adams apple visible in his throat as he let out a deep breath and looked at the ceiling. Closing his eyes slowly, he looked back down to the man.

"One more mission. That is all I ask." Is what he said, sighing the words. "Was going to retire soon, figured that might be a good time to, one last mission to say goodbye to my men and make sure they are left off in one piece." He said, his eyes giving the doctor a stern look.

He leaned back again, his mouth betraying his expression as he smiled. "The shit I have seen will land me in worse places than some sort of military mental asylum. I think I can handle a final mission before I get off and get help on my own time."

[Jakob]

(OOC: Double post to get the ball rolling.)

Dombroviski sat there waiting for the commander to speak, almost a few seconds passed and she still sat there, in deep thought about what to do. Dombroviski cursed and heard and bolt sliding in a machine gun. His back bolted up right and he shouted "GET BEHIND A TREE, MOVE MOVE MOVE!" He dived to his side, knocking him and the commander over and the two tumbling behind a near by log as all of the soldiers scattered. Paintball bullets peppered where he and the captain were just sitting.

Dombroviski tucked his legs under his arms and pressed his knees to his chest to get more cover, his gun laying out next to him. The commander was motionless, she laid there with a very obvious splotch of paint on her uniform. She stood up, put her hands up and chuckled a bit. Dmitri nodded and so did she, she turned and ran off. Dombroviski cursed and shouted, "SUPPRESSION FIRE, SOME ONE, FOLLOW ME!" He un clipped a smoke grenade from his belt and rolled it out into the opening where he just was.

There was a pop and the area filled with a thick gray smoke, the machine gunner fired into the area randomly, hoping to hit something. Dombroviski ran towards the side of the machine gunner, concealed by the smoke, and briefly grabbed some one's shoulder to signal the soldier to follow him. He dived to the ground inside a ditch to the right of the gunner. Looking up, the smoke had slowly cleared and the gunner and the three instructors with him were oblivious to his actions. Pushing his rifle to aim, he looked at the person next to him.

[Wax™]

Sat behind one of the many tree's around the perimiter of the battle, he tucked his leg's in so his knee's were up against his chest so that he was not caught out of cover, his MA5 Assault Rifle was laying idle by his side just screaming to be fired, the young Sergeant look over his shoulder at Dombroviski as he screamed out 'SUPRESSION FIRE' before slowly turning back, 'This training exercise is stupid' he thought to himself.

His train of thought was interrupted bu a pop, it caused him to blink followed by a shiver down his spine, he looked over his shoulder and noticed a thick gray smoke filling up the area infront of the scattered marines, he looked up at Dombroviski as his shoulder was tuged on, he slowly pushed himself to his feet grasping his weapong tight in hand before following after the First Sergeant.

He ran to the side of the machine gunner almost directly behind Dombroviski, before he made it to the ditch he droped himself against the dirt and did a base ball slide into the ditch, he patted the First Sergeant's back to let him know he was covered before he took aim on the area way from the machine gunner, he would frequently change fireing positions making sure to cover Dombroviski.

[Jakob]

Dombroviski nodded and looked around for something they could use. One instructor was on the gun, peppering everything he saw, one was on the cover next to him and firing and the other two were crouched and aiming into the trees. Defending the gun. It was mounted on a very large; collapsed tree. Its age showing but its sturdiness unwavering. Dombroviski cursed, there was no way out of the ditch without being mowed down, if he started shooting, a similar fate would have him.

He looked up and there was a very dead tree next to the nest, on it was a large branch that was hardly held together; it being held only by a very thin sheet of bark. If broken, it would fall right next to the instructors, getting their attention.

He patted the man on the back and pointed, whispering
"you a good shot? Try and hit that branch, I got the gunner. When you are done with the branch, start shooting." He readied his rifle and got a bead on the gunners side.

[Wax™]

Swilved his head around to face the man before looking at the peice of bark, he noded and lifted the stock of his Assault Rifle to to rest against his shoulder, he leaned his head to the right aiming down the sight closing one eye, he would take in a breath and concentrate exhailing slowly.

He pulled the trigger of his rifle a three round burst of training bullets propelled with great velocity to the broken branch severing the bark from the entire tree, the brancg would fall by the instructors, Sergeant Bowers smiled leveling his line of sight to the instructors, waiting for the First Sergeant to fire before he sprays them with his rifle.

[Jakob]

Dombroviski smiled and right before the man fired, dropped the goggles to his eyes, hoping to keep the loose dirt from kicking into his eyes. He squeezed the trigger when he heard the branch fall and the instructors all snapped their rifles to the left, checking for targets. Briefly confused before the turret gunner fell to his side, shouting at the pain of six practice rounds hitting his side.

Dombroviski leaned to the right and sprayed his rifle, dirt kicking up into the air all around them as another instructor fell to the ground.

[Wax™]

Pulled the trigger of his Assault rifle and fired a series of short controlled burst's in the direction of the Instructors he was'nt sure it were his practice rounds or the First Sergeant's rounds that were hitting the instructors, but he did'nt really care he was told to shoot so he shot.

Would squint his eyes as the tactical glasses that are attached to his helmet begin to get dusty, he would lean to the right so as not to shoot the First Sergeant in the back of the head, he can help but smile slightly as he hears each round go off, once he had lost a visual due to the amount of dust he would cease fire, lifting his right hand to wipe the dust from his tactical glasses.

If all the instructors were either fleeing or moaning in main on the ground, he would sit back in the ditch and wait furthur Orders from the First Sergeant, even though it is just a stupid training exercise.

[Jakob]

Dombroviski laughed at the falling men, he grabbed the sergeants shoulder and pulled him up with him. He pointed at the log, "get in cover and shoot the guys to the right! I got the gun!" With that he point to a rock outcrop directly in front of the clearing they were ambushed from, several instructors were behind it peppering the teams position.
Dmitri; without waiting for comfirmation, ran to the machine gun, he loaded a flesh magazine and aimed down the sight, grinning. He let loose a series of projectiles at the instructors direcrtly in front of him. About five in all, two of them went down and three more ducked behind cover and did not come out.
Dombroviski shouted to a man he saw hiding behind cover, occasionally ducking out to shoot and waiting for a chance to run out.
"Sergeant! Redsont!" He said, looking at him while blindly firing the gun, "flank the guys on the left! I will keep them down!"