Hotel 6

[grundel70]

Here is a story I started to throw together. It has been a while for me, but after reading some of the well written stuff here, and playing some Vietcong, i was once again inspired to write. I borrowed heavily from the game Vietcong, and also several special forces books i read and movies I saw. But mostly it is my own creation. I hope you enjoy Part 2 should come later today.

Warning....there is profanity in this story...read at your own risk.

[grundel70]

++Hotel 6++

++0530…Morning Haze++

The sun was creeping over the horizon, finally day was taking its place where night had ruled for the past several hours. The morning haze lingered over the ground, casting an eerie visage over the landscape. At the base of the hill in all directions, where the clear, tall grass of the hill gave way to the dense foliage of the jungle, the mist crept out like steam escaping from a slow boiling pot. Lush flower patches dotted the base of the trees along the edge of the forest, and the sounds of the local wildlife changed from the creepy night music of nocturnal insects to the gentle morning symphony of a world awakening.

Along with the flora and fauna, the denizens of Hotel 6, the small military base situated at the top of the hill, were also switching from their nightly habits to that of their daily ones. The distant sound of a chopper could be heard, as the American workers began to assemble near the pad to unload their weakly supply shipment and welcome any reinforcements that were scheduled to arrive. Today they were getting only one, a Staff Sergeant out of Ft Hanson near Baltimore. They had lost a few people on a recent patrol, and this was all that command could muster up for the time being.

Sgt Crawford’s first view of the Lutze valley was impressive. It was quite beautiful, and like most would say, it was hard to believe that a bloody war was being fought under the lush, green canopy of the jungle below. Doug Crawford, however, was well trained and versed in this type of warfare, and not a stranger to low intensity conflict, as was often the case out here. This was, however, Babylonian country, and they where at home here, often coming from out of nowhere, hitting hard, and returning to the nothingness that they emerged.

As the chopper landed, soldiers immediately began to grab supply sacks and crates from the choppers cargo bay. Crawford hopped down, with one hand gripping his Kevlar helmet to prevent any backwash from the rotor from blowing it free. A non descript soldier approached him and offered his had to shake.

“Sergeant Crawford? Welcome to the Ritz!” He said, with a wry smile. “Captain Martin would like to see you asap.”

“Thank you, corporal” Crawford replied. He followed the non commissioned officer away from the pad toward a sunken bunker with an American flag flying outside the entrance. On the way he took a brief mental picture of Hotel 6. There were a small group of ‘sunken’ bunkers in the center of the compound, apparently general purpose buildings such as latrines, mess, infirmary, command post, bunks, and other possibilities. The base peremiter was defined by a series of trenches fortified with wood and sand bags, and every 50 feet or so, a fortified bunker with a mounted machine gun of some sort. SAWS he was guessing, but he could not be sure. M60’s possibly, or even .50 cals. Barbed wire extended further away from the trenches in most directions, and he was sure there were planted claymores, shape charges, and other nasty surprises for any would be invader. They entered the command post where the captain Martin was going over some paperwork with his company sergeant major. Martin looked up from his paperwork when Crawford entered, dismissed the sergeant major, and directed his attention toward his new charge.

“Staff Sergeant Doug Crawford reporting for duty, sir!” He stated, snapping a sharp salute.

“At ease sergeant” The captain replied. “Welcome to Hotel 6”

“Thank you, sir”

“Lets go over a few things here, sergeant. First of all, drop that parade ground crap. Out here, we call everyone by our last names. So I suggest you get to know everyone. Once the loonies see you saluting someone, that person is as good as dead. Their snipers are crack shots.”

“Loonies, sir?”

“The Babylonians”, Martin answered “ around here folks call them loonies. You may want to get used to the lingo, especially if you are going to lead a squad. Another thing, the men like to call this place ‘the Ritz’. Call it Hotel 6 in casual conversation, and they will look at you funny.

“Roger, Wilco” Crawford responded “Loonies and the Ritz. No saluting and last names. Understood”

“Good. Now get rested up and be prepared for a mission briefing at 1300 hours later today. There is nothing like getting acclimated with your men by a good ole combat patrol. There hasn’t been much activity in the area lately, but that is no garentee that you will not see some action. The corporal here will show you over to the NCO’s bunker where you can get situated, get some grub, and get ready for your action”

“Understood sir” Crawford responded. He almost saluted, but caught himself, and held back.

The corporal lead him out of the command bunker to his new home.

++0900…chow time++

“So, you’re the new sergeant.” Corporal Conner stated over their oatmeal and toast breakfast, sitting across from sergeant Crawford at the mess table.

“That would be me.” He replied. He was green to their eyes, but not green to combat. That was evident to the men that were eyeing him in the mess. A scar was clearly visibly across his forehead…shrapnel or a knife wound perhaps…and his left forearm severely burned. He did not look up from his chow when he responded.

“So what do you think of our 4 star establishment?”

“The room service could be better….Conner is it?”

“Yeah, that’s me. And you ain’t shittin’ ! Get used to it. That is about all we have around here from breakfast. Oatmeal and toast.”

“Well, at least I will be regular.” He replied, straight faced.

Conner smirked “Yeah, but the latrine guys won’t be too appreciative of that.”

Crawford almost smiled. Almost.

“So you are going out with us today?” Conner asked.

“Yup. Baptism under fire. Best way if you ask me”

Conner did not say much, just sat back and looked at him “You obviously have seen combat. Where at? Viconia? The Alundian islands?”

“Cut myself shaving.” He replied, thinking that Conner was referring to his visible wounds.

“Yeah, right.” Conner said “And I say you spent a lot of time in charm school as well”

“Graduated top of my class”

Conner smirked again. Smart ass this one was, he thought. But at least this guy wasn’t out trying to win the men over right away or prove himself before it was possible for him to do so. He respected that. “All about business I see. Out in the bush we will have plenty of time to get to know each other, I’m sure.”

“Out in the bush…I am going to need everyone to do their job.”

“Oh, we will do our job. You will also need to rely on our experience as well. You have 8 men going out with you, and all 8 have seen the loonies in action before. Don’t think that you can do this all by yourself. Don’t think that just because you have a few scars you know all there is to know about everything.”

Crawford continued to eat, unphased. “Damn, this butter sucks” was his only reply.

Conner, once again, smirked. He liked this guy.

++1300…mission briefing++

Captain Martin stood before the men and the map of the surround valley. Hotel 6 was distinctively visible in the center of the map. Red lines were drawn on the map with wax pencils outlying their various objectives.

“Crawford, your team designation will be Lance one. Command will be Camelot. Fire support will be the 120mm battery stationed at Ft Gash, designation Thunder. Airsupport from Mitchell Airbase will be designation Dragon.”

Martin paused while his team took notes. “Insertion for Lance one will be here, position alpha” he pointed to an x on the map “ Once inserted, your team will make a combat patrol to points designated bravo, charlie, and delta. Once complete, you will hump over to point echo for extraction.” Each point was designated on the map and pointed to by the captain. You are to engage any loonies encountered at will. Rules of engagement are aggressive. Enemy activity in the area has been reported as being light. Some contact is possible. Are there any questions?”

“Yes, I noticed on the map that charlie and echo are near what appear to be villages. Are these to be considered hostile?” Crawford asked “If there are civies in the area, should we limit airstrikes and arty strikes in those areas?”

“Those villages are abandoned” Martin replied “you have virtually unlimited use of Thunder and Dragon. Use as you see fit.”

“Roger Wilco”

“Now, have you all met your new squad leader?” Martin asked Lance one.

They all nodded. Between breakfast mess and now, they have all had a brief encounter with the sergeant to at least make themselves known. They all knew that over the next few operations, under fire, is where they would really mesh as a team, if they were to mesh at all. Most opinions were out on the new sergeant.

“Standard squad load out for this op.” Martin continued “Conner, you are on the SAW. Dawkins, Brooke, you guys are on sniping duty. Turner is the medic. Otherwise standard patrol load out for everyone. Extra ammo for your m16.” Normally he would not go over this, but wanted to make sure that the new sergeant new everyone’s duties.

Crawford added to the briefing “If I may, sir” Martin nodded “ I want all those not on the above assigned duties to carry at least one belt for the SAW.”

The squad nodded. They usually did so anyway.

“If there is nothing else, then lets get moving. Load up and move out. Lets all make it back for dinner.”

“****” Dawkins whispered to Turner “That is reason enough to get whacked.” Turner smiled.

[grundel70]

Oh, and btw, just to clarify, this is grundel. But when i tried to log in under my old log in and id, it apparently was gone due to inactivity. I reregistered under this name...for those old guys who have been around wondering.

[SKILORD]

I guessed it was you.

Nice to see you back. Good start.

[Richelieu]

Welcome back Grundel!
Looking forward to your stories.

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Great start, certainly looks like a nice story coming up, looking forward to some more.

[TheGuitarist]

Glad to have you back. Keep it up.

[johncmcleod]

I am very glad to see you're back writing stories for the forum. You're my favorite civ author. This one is good so far, it's a little bit different than your others but I really like it.

[grundel70]

++1337…Insertion WP Alpha++

The trip in was uneventful. Foliage in the area was too dense to make any solid determination of enemy activity in the area…if there was any, they would find out soon enough.

The massive Blackhawk Helicopter drifted to a hover over waypoint alpha, and to thick ropes were thrown out from either side as Lance one prepared to fast rope to the jungle floor about 80 feet below. As the Blackhawk hovered two old, but still viable, Cobra gunships patrolled the area providing security for the insertion. Two by two, the team quickly roped down to the jungle below, one on each side of the egg beater. In a matter of less than a minute, Lance one was feet dry, and the aircraft pulled away.

“Roger that Lance one” The pilot of the Blackhawk replied through the teams earpiece “See you in a few hours at waypoint echo. Good luckguys”

The team quickly assumed a defensive perimeter around their position. Everyone dressed for the part, weapon in hand, face painted in jungle cammo, backpacks bulging with equipment, mostly extra ammo for themselves and for the SAW gunner, but others with their needed paraphernalia. They no longer needed one person to carry a radio, as they all had the ability to transmit and receive from command themselves with their own communication gear, which they wore much like a jogger wore a walkman cd player or radio. All carried m16’s with the exception of Conner, Dawkins, and Brooke. Conner lugged around the squad light machine gun, military designation m249 SAW (Squad assault weapon) with an 100 round box magazine attached to the weapon. The good thing about this weapon was its versatility…it fired the exact same round as the m16a2 that all the men were carrying, and was even able to be loaded with the 30 round clips that they all had in a pinch, but they all had one magazine with a belt of 100 rounds for the gunner. The French company that originally designed the weapon did so with that in mind…so that the next generation battlefield featured weapons that did not need their own clips, but one clip could work in different types of guns. The snipers were relatively lightly packed compared to their counterparts. They often were given more leeway in what they were allowed to carry. In this case, Dawkins carried an old, but highly reliable and powerful m14 with a Tasco ‘Big Dot’ scope. This scope was not that powerful compared to most scopes, only enhancing perhaps an additional 50-100 yards. But in the low visability of the jungle, little extra range was often needed. His sniper counterpart, Brooke, brought the big hardware in case they really needed to reach out and touch someone. His Robar fired powerful .50 cal rounds over great distances, and his scope powerful enough to see over them. The bolt action rifle was massive, and he kept it slung for safe keeping when they really needed it. For now, he carried a m4, a shortened version of the m16.

Crawford reached to his shoulder and activiated his mouthpiece to talk to command “Camelot, this is Lance one.”

After a few seconds “Lance one this is Camelot. What is your status?”

“We have successfully been inserted and are at waypoint alpha, preparing for our patrol”

“Roger. Request sitrep at bravo, charlie, and delta. Thunder and Dragon standing by.”

“Roger Wilco. Next contact at bravo. Lance one out.”

“Roger that. Good luck.”

“Alright gentlemen, time to earn our hazard pay” Crawford whispered to the squad “Fan out, 3 by 3. Lets hump it over to bravo.”

The men acknowledged, and began their patrol.

++1415…approaching wp Bravo++

One of the three men in the lead, a young specialist named Blake, raised his lift fist slightly, giving the sign to stop. The patrol crept to a halt, and waited.

After a few moments, he began signing some more, the universal soldier speak of special forces. Crawford interpreted in his mind. “He sees three enemies, moving east, they do not see us yet.” Now was the time. He started signing his own orders. With only three of them, they would shadow the unit and ambush them when they were in lethal range. With three of them, he was reluctant to snipe them from here, as the third may get away and alert a larger force to their presence.

His orders received and acknowledged, the squad began to quickly but quietly move in on their unsuspecting prey.

The three ‘loonies’ seemed to be army regulars…they had on their standard jungle fatigues, helmets, assault rifles, and various equipment. Like most loonies, they all wore beards and had a slightly tan complexion. They were moving away from the group, toward bravo. Crawford’s patrol was making steady ground on them…200 yards, 175 yards, 100 yards…Crawford wanted to get to about 50 yards before engaging.

They closed in around their victims, and the natural sounds of the jungle were interrupted by the sounds of automatic gun fire. Two loonies dropped right away, and the third, without even looking back, began to flee away from the group.

“Don’t let him get away” Crawford yelled over the sound of gunfire

The squad directed their gunfire at the last survivor as he furiously tried to escape his death. Leaping over fallen trees, running through bushes, he frantically made for the safety that only distance could provide. The squad, once he started to get out of effective range, began their pursuit.

Just as skillfully as their quarry was making his way through the brush, so was Lance one, frantically but deliberately pursuing him through the hot, sticky jungle. He was out of range for the moment, but they were not going to let him get far. He was making his way toward waypoint bravo, which was getting closer to the base. He didn’t have anywhere he could go.

They started making their way into a valley…Lance one had him trapped. He could not escape without going back toward them. The Babylonian soldier seemed oblivious to this, however, as he made his way deeper into the arroyo.

Crawfords senses began to tingle. Something was wrong. He took a brief inventory of the situation. His squad was in a shallow valley, high ground with excellent cover surrounded them on all sides. As they were approaching the end of the gorge, anyone caught in the valley by a force above would be a perfect victim for…

‘AMBUSH!’ Connor yelled as his squad assault weapon opened up with a rain of fire to the valley’s edge to their left. Gun fire was returned down on their positions from all sides. They had walked into a death trap. Lance one scrambled frantically for cover. They shot their weapons in all directions above them, wasting no ammo. The first rule of low intensity combat in an ambush situation…spare no ammo.

Now would be a good time for Thunder or Dragon, Crawford thought to himself, shooting at the muzzle flash of a weapon in the bush 25 yards above him and to his left. “Lance one, lay down surpressing fire to cover our retreat. We are going to back track out of this valley” He yelled over the gunfire “We will leap frog back. I will call Dragon for support. Anyone hit?”

His squad reported back. Someone had a slight arm wound, but claimed they would be fine. “I am consulting the map” He advised, letting his men know he will not be firing his weapon for a brief period. Crawford identified their position, and then identified the rim of the valley to which he would call in, what he hoped would be, a precision air strike. They were too close for Thunder. Dragon would have to do.

“Dragon, this is Lance one requesting air mission” Crawford spoke into his radio

“Lance one, this is Dragon. We are standing by.” A radio operator responded.

“Dragon, requesting air mission located at coordinates Victor one two. Repeat. Air mission requested at coordinates Victor one two.” Crawford located the position on the map of the enemy forces, squarely at the spot labeled veritically by the letter V and horizontally by the number 12.

“Lance one, this is Dragon. Air mission requested at coordinates victor one two. Confirm?”

“Dragon this is Lance one. Confirm. We are in the vicinity, make sure you drop it in the pickle barrel”

“Roger Lance one. Last transmission received and understood. Keep your head down when you hear the loud noises overhead. Dragon out.” The operator at Mitchell Airbase knew they were in trouble…not only by the stressed tone of Lance one’s squad leaders voice, but by the distinctive monophonic cracks of small arms fire dispersing all about him during the conversation.

As was standard operation procedure, they always had aircraft scrambled for air missions 24/7. They were not in the habit of getting a request, scrambling jets, and then lighting up an area…rather they had aircraft on station at various strategic locations. The radio operator relayed their mission coordinates to the nearest available pilots, who within seconds were on route.

“Ok boys, its gonna get toasty in here” Crawford yelled “Lets get the hell out of here”

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Brilliant!!

[vovan]

Grundel!





I'm glad to see you back. And back with some goodies too. Great stuff here.

[TheGuitarist]

Great job; uber-realistic dialogue, pulse-pounding action, and of course the suspense.

More please!!

[johncmcleod]

The French company that originally designed the weapon did so with that in mind

To get techinical, I'm 99% sure that a Belgian company designed the SAW, but it doesn't matter.

You really know your stuff. While you were gone you must've read a lot of special forces book or something, cause this is very realistic. My only suggestion is that you explain some of the military slang in further posts or something, because I wasn't quite sure what the guy meant by 'hump it over to Bravo' etc. etc.

Keep it up!

Oh, and don't be one of those flakes (like me during one of my stories) that posts part of the story and gets us hooked to it and then doesn't finish it. There is nothing (well, maybe some things) that piss me off more than a good story that is unfinshed.

[steamthunk]

Not sure what kind of game Vietcong is, but I'm guessing squad based warfare more than Civ. Regardless, this is well written and sets a nice mood. Not that it matters a whole lot, but I'm assuming the heroes are Americans?

[grundel70]

vietcong is one of those ultra realistic first person shooters...where it takes into account things like aiming your weapon through the weapons' iron sight, one shot can kill both you and the bad guys, shooting from behind cover, realistic weapon ballistics and recoil, etc...

I knew the Minimi was made in europe for use of nato forces, much like the G11 and the olderG3 to use standard Nato ammo, and interchangable magazines. My marine corp buddy, who was a infantry squad leader when he was active, helped me alot with many of the technical aspects and soldeir speak. Being a roommate of a person who owned their own sporting good store, most of the weapon info i got from him. Both my marine corp buddy and my ex roommate indicated the Minimi was made in France. My appologies if this info is incorrect.

This story is basically a vietnam war story, with the babylonians substituting for the vietnamese, and held in a more modern environment. (ie blackhawks instead of iroquois (aka heuy) helicopters, m249 instead of the m60, etc...

Everytime I promise a story to be completed by a certain time, life gets in the way. So instead of me promising I will post the final chapter later today, I will simply state that it will be posted shortly

As always, thank you for the compliments.

PS...Definitions...

Roger Wilco...Not only is this a gaming program to allow you to voice chat with friends while you play online, but it is short for 'Roger, will comply' which was standard army lingo (i don't beleive it is still used) for acknowledging an order.

Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, Delta, etc... is military designation for letters of the alphabet. These were used to make sure that things such as coordinates and other important facts are not misunderstood or heard incorrectly. Whatever the word starts with is the letter it represents.

Humping it...advance, walk, march, etc...

Insertion...dropping off a unit/squad for combat operations..

Extraction...Picking up a unit/squad from combat operations

Lance,Dragon, Thunder...when a mission is created, special terms are used to designate certain parts of the mission. Often these are related terms... Greek gods, foods, etc... they represent supporting units, signals, or when a certain task is complete. For related terms, I chose an Arthurian theme to try and be original. Now that i think about it, I should have used 'merlin' or 'claymore' for the artillery. Oh well.

Any other terms that are not clear, please let me know.

[grundel70]

++1450…Falcon’s talons++

The two f16 ‘Fighting Falcons’ came out of their turn and were headed directly toward the waypoint sent to them from base. This was a close air support mission helping out some ground troops in trouble. For this, first Lt Vance call sign ‘Stryker’ and his wingman, first Lt Hagerson call sign ‘Barney’ selected 500 lbs ‘dumb’ bombs…not very different than those used fifty years ago. Though they were called ‘dumb’ as they were not guided to their target once released, the advanced electronics, radar, and targeting system of this fighter could allow it’s pilots to put this type of ordinance right on the money. Also, since their target was only a spot on the map, they had nothing to ‘lase’ or otherwise lock onto for their more advanced weapons…the laser guided munitios needed to have either someone else, or the pilot, keep a laser pointed at the target so the bomb could ‘fly’ itself to it. The radar guided ‘Mavericks’ needed some object to lock onto with either the map in the cockpit, or on the heads up display. These missiles were primarily used for anti building or vehicle roles. The ‘Durendal’ anti runway bombs were for just that…they buried themselves deep into the ground…specifically runways, entrenched bunkers, or bridge foundations before they went off. Again, no good for this role. The cluster bombs they carried as well would be perfect for this type of mission, but due to their large damage radius and close proximity of the good guys to the target area, they would not work either. Neither one had any flammable or napalm based ordinance, so good ole fashion 500 lbs bombs chock full of explosive goodness will just have to do.

“We are 45 seconds away from target’ Stryker said to the airbase controller.

“Roger. Time to bring home the bacon’ The radio operator replied

Stryker and Barney both punched in the coordinates of where they wanted the bombs to land on their onboard computer and nav map. Once typed in, the HUD then displayed a long, vertical line across the aiming reticle. It was very simple. The closer they got to their target, the faster the ‘top’ of this line would shrink. When the top of the line intersected with the aiming reticle, then that was when they released their presents.

Crawford and company heard the distinctive sound of jet aircraft overhead. They knew that the canopy of the jungle made it almost impossible to tell where they sound was coming from, and in most cases, by the time you heard the noise, it was too late.

“GET DOWN!” He yelled, and immediately dove for any cover he could find. He hoped that the rest complied.

The sound grew louder in a mere seconds, until it was deafening. Then, the ground shook. They did not really ‘hear’ the explosions as much as they ‘felt’ it. Everything around them seemed to be enveloped within this ground shaking explosion.

A few seconds later, Crawford looked up. He heard nothing but a loud ringing noise in his ear. The world around him turned into a soundless void. Smoke was everywhere. He looked around. Brooke lay close by, and did not move. Connor was looking at him, and mouthing some words.

It wasn’t until a few seconds later that he realized that Connor was not mouthing the words, but yelling at him about something. Slowly, the ringing subsided, and Connors voice, although barely, could be heard.

“ARE YOU OKAY?” he asked?

“Yeah, im fine” He replied “Casualties?”

“I thin” His sentence was interrupted by the bullet that entered the side of Connor’s face. Blood and flesh erupted all over Crawford.

The loonies, those that survived anyway, were advancing on their position.

Crawford immediately began firing on the advancing force. “CAMELOT, THIS IS LANCE ONE” he yelled into his mike.

“Lance one, this is Camelot. What is your status”

“WE ARE BEING OVERRUN! WE HAVE CASUALTIES, REQUEST IMMEDIATE EXTRACTION”

“Lance one, say ag” His radio went out. Apparently his receiver had took some damage. Around him his squad was firing their weapons at whatever targets presented themselves. He was unsure how many loonies remained. He continued to fire.

The battle ensued for what seemed like an eternity. After about 30 minutes, the Cobra gunships and blackhawks were on site. Each aircraft firing its weapons surrounding the area where yellow smoke emerged from the jungle. They could still here the fighting going on underneath them. The yellow smoke was a smoke grenade used by one of Lance one to show their position….

++0700, the next day++

Sergeant, First Class Musson stepped off the ‘slick’ as it landed. Solders, working in the morning haze somberly went about their job. Unloading some supplies, and replacing them with three dead bodies. Musson glanced the tag of one as it was loaded.

“Crawford” It stated.

A young private came up to the new sergeant and greeted him. “Sergeant Musson? I am Private Turner. Captain Martin wants to see you in the command post right away”

Musson’s eyes did not stray from the body bags that were loaded onto the slick. Turner continued

“Yeah, that is the sergeant you are replacing. Poor bastard. Didn’t even last a day”

They hunched as they walked, a habit when working around helo’s, toward the command post.


The end.

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Excellent stuff most enjoyable to read

[johncmcleod]

Great job!

Here's a quote from specialoperations.com on the weapons page:

The M249 SAWS light machine gun is gas-operated, magazine or disintegrating metallic link-belt fed, individually portable machine gun capable of delivering a large volume of effective fire to support infantry squad operations. The M249 fires the 5 improved NATO Standard SS 109 type 5.56mm ammunition. The M249 replaces the two automatic M16A1 rifles in the rifle squad on a one-for-one basis in all infantry type units and in other units requiring high firepower. The Belgian Fabrique Nationale XM249 "Minimi" was standardized as the M249 Squad Automatic Weapon System in 1982. The M249 filled the void created by the retirement of the M1918A2 Browning Automatic Rifle (BAR) during the 1950s because interim automatic weapons (M14 series/M16A1 rifles) had failed as viable "base of fire" weapons.

Anyway, great story. I wish it was a little longer though. Will you write more stories?

[johncmcleod]

In case everyone thinks I made it up, here's the link: http://www.specialoperations.com/Weapons/LMG/

Doesn't really matter though.

[vovan]

Thumbs up on this one, Grundel.

[TheGuitarist]

Moving. Excellent as always.

[steamthunk]

You mean war isn't always glamorous? Nicely done. Can't say I saw the ending coming.