Retrospection
As you enter the room, the first thing you notice is the strange humming of the old ventilator which sounds like the motor of a damaged Matilda...oh yeah, the Matildas...the whole base is full of that strangely camouflaged vehicles and you can't think of any reason why the British Army has painted tanks in blue/green and yellow in midst the desert...oh yeah...oasis capturing maybe...
Besides you, some other guys already sit in the room and all seem to suffer from the immense heat...again like 45 degrees Celsius...
Suddenly the door is thrown open and with large strides a rakish, grizzled major of an unknown unit enters the room.
Hello gentlemen , you are here since you have proved yourself as absolute experts in your field. Expert sniping, expert demolitions, expert information extraction and so on. That's why you were extracted of your former units and are now here in Sidi Barrani . As you know, the Italian troops are only about 20 kilometers away from us, sitting in their trenches and waiting for our onslaught - but that is not of interest for you anymore, since you will now belong to a unit consisting only of five men and me. I'm Major Cornelius von Gilding, former “Sturmbannführer der Waffen-SS Sondereinsatztruppe Fenris”. He rolls his sleeve up and shows you the SS blood group tattoo on the inner face of his left arm.
After switching sides I fast became head of the ASSF – Allied Secret Special Forces. We, and I say we, because you are now also part of this unit - are tasked with disrupting any Nazi action involving certain... projects of the Third Reich that are out of normal military actions. Since time is pressing, we are starting hour first mission in exactly... he looks on his watch 117 minutes, at exactly eighteen hundred.
Now
The hot wind stings into your eyes and cheeks, small sand particles dance around in the air and it's not easy to spy at the Germans from behind the sand dune.
Von Gilding, wearing a typical desert outfit now with an old-fashioned topee full of scratches, hands the field glasses over to Oskar
What can you make out?
Between some palms you can make out a German tank and a Kuebelwagen.
Between some palms you can make out a German tank and a Kuebelwagen. There is also some kind of trailer for a Krad or something and a tent.
Between some palms you can make out a German tank and a Kuebelwagen. There is also some kind of trailer for a Krad or something and a tent. Several German soldiers move around in the small camp.
Retrospection
A young man with bleached blonde hair sits slouched in his seat, sweat rolling down his face as carefully he carefully marshalls some shreds of tobacco into a straight line and the neatly transforms them into a cigarette. He looks up as he places the cigarette in his mouth and you can see the flaking skin and explosion of freckles that is a sign of a pale skinned person who'd recently spent quite a while in the sun.
He wears the sandy coloured uniform of a british infantryman but with the patches and insignia ripped off and Finnish flags and insignia sown on instead. Fishing in his breastpocket he pulls out a lighter that looks like it could start a fire in a hurricane and lights his cigarette, taking a breath and blowing a satisfied jet of smoke out through his nostrils. A standard issue british pack sits next to his chair with a long canvas wrapped rifle leant against it. The rifle itself differs from the norm slightly in that it has both a bipod and scope mounted on it, marking its owner as some kind of sniper.
When the rakish looking man appears and starts speaking Oskar glances up from fiddling with his lighter and cocks an eyebrow at the strange accent, but keeps quiet as the guy explains why he and the others in the room are there. When the man finally stops jawing Oskar puffs the last life out of his cigarette, flicks the butt into a corner of the room and turns to address the his new comrades.
"My name is Oskar Hietamäki and I am very pleased to be killing Nazis with you all. I am liking sound of Secret Special Forces too, is good strong name, good omen for future."
Now
Oskar takes the field glasses from his new commander and tuts for a second at the lack of netting in front of the reflective glass lenses before dropping onto his front and quickly bellycrawling up to the top of the dune and peaking over at the Germans in the distance.
Sliding after a few moments observation Oskar slips back down the sandy slope to report his observations to the commander.
"Nazis between palms, have tank, Kuebelwagen, trailer for Krad or something and there is also tent. Layout is like so."
Oskar pulls one of the few letters he'd recieved since leaving Finland from a pocket and uses the stub of a pencil from the same pocket to quickly sketch the layout of the german camp.
Von Gilding takes the field glasses back, rubs the sand off from them and stows them away, back into his pack.
Good job, Oskar. Between the palms is a former railroad station, after some Italian air raids nothing is left of it besides the road that is leading to it and the railroad tracks. As far as we know there is a train coming in about he takes a look at his watch thirty minutes. It will stop here and be loaded with a crate that is somewhere down in that camp...we have to prevent that, since this crate is extremely important...so we have like 1800 seconds left to work out a plan.
Rrospection
Gregori is a gaunt eastern european man perhaps more Ukrainian than Russian. He smells strongly of vodka, body odor, and.....other smells. His gear is ragged and seems ill suited to the desert around him. He glances at the faces around the table and gives a warm smile of yellowed crooked teeth. He sets his bloodstained and well used rifle aside and takes a seat. He says nothing as the german officer speaks. His face is covered in a scraggly muff from perhaps a week or two of not being shaved.
"Is good to be making acquaintances with new squadmates. My name is Gregori. I will not bother you with last name for your wretched grasp of Gregori's mother tongue may make father spin even more rapidly in grave than from dissappointment of son taking orders from German."
now
"Is two plans, both simple but first depends on explosives. First plan, is blow up railway tracks. No tracks mean no train, simple. Second plan slightly less simple but still simple. Oskar circle round camp using dunes as cover, start picking off Nazis. While Nazis shooting at Oskar everyone else sneak in from behind, kill Nazis and take box. Again is simple, even bear could do."
V. Gilding peers over the dune and shakes his head
The tracks have to remain intact, blasting the train wouldn't solve our problem, since we not only want them not to have the crate, but have to bring the crate back to our camp. Your second plan also has one problem - the tank?! Oskar what kind of tank was it by the way?
It's a Panzer IV Ausf. E. The most modern and heaviest German tank available at the moment.
It's a Panzer IV Ausf. E. The most modern and heaviest German tank available at the moment. Yet the machine has massive heat problems and there is at least a 33% chance that the tank will overheat when started during this time of the day.
"Gregori is thinking tank not issue if we simply take tank. We get to ride back to camp with crate rather than trudge through hot wasteland being chased by angry shouty riflemen."
"Tank is maybe a problem yes. Any other plans?"
Oskar describes the tank as best he can and sits pondering the hole in his plan and any ways it might be possible to overcome such a large tank shaped crack in an otherwise rocksolid plan.
"Oskar is liking Gregori's plan even if Gregori probably a dirty goat lover, but does anyone know how to drive German tanks? Major Gilding?"
"Gregori drive fascist tank with great precision in crushing fascists who is thinking Gregori is comrade. Is much funny."
Gilding arches an eyebrow
Fly a plane - yes, drive a tank - absolutely not.
Retrospection
Looking distinctly uncomfortable is a tall readheaded man built like a scarecrow. His unfifrom falls into the classic military maxim of either too small or too big, in this case far too big for his spindly frame. Several times he grabs at the front and pulls it away from his sweaty chest.
As he does so he also plays with a small crucifix that hangs around his neck.
In his lap is a large medical kit that he occasionly opens and inspects time and time again.
As the major comes in he startles and rises in his seat, trying to look like he has been paying attention all along.
When the major reveals his SS tatoo he looks uncomfortable and touches the same spot on his own arm.
Now
"Good eyes, ah can't see ah bloody thing. So tha thank is tha main problem is it? Ah don' supose we can jes blow it up? Do we have explosive we can plant at all?"
"Ah'm Liam by tha' way"
Retrospection
Not sitting but standing, sort of, more leaning against the nearest post is a lanky Australian gent in Khakis. Not too much meat on the frame, though from the looks his hands are steady enough. Brown eyes sit on his tanned and weathered face resplendent with a handlebar moustache and peering out from beneath his slouch hat. A toothpick is being idly maneuvered from one side of his mouth to the other. Despite the lack of comfort of the other men, he seems to not mind the heat bearing down on them (doesn't mean he isn't also sweating like a hog in season).
Upon the major's entrance, he looks up though doesn't stiffen to attention and spits the toothpick onto the ground. Blimey, I didn't sign up to be the hand puppet of a bloody Kraut. All I heard was that some slick new unit needed a fella who knew his way round a detonator. Spose I should give the Kraut a run, least he ain't a bloody Pom. "Mornin, I'm Phil Hargreaves."
Now
Knowledge Military:
Knowledge Tech:
"Thats a brand spankin new Panzer IV E out there, didn't think they had tech that new out here in the ass end of beyond. From what I gather though the bloody things have a bit of a heat problem, so she'd just as likely quit on em before she got started."
Whistling a bit tunelessly as he thinks "I've got a bit of dough that we could use to set a fire under the Krauts asses if you like, but I'm not sure that's the best approach. How big is this crate you're after anyways?"
Two strong men he looks at Gregori and Oskar should be able to carry it without problems...I mean at least for some hundred meters, then we can load it onto one of the camels.
he looks back at the half dozen camels that wait about 100m behind you with your Algerian guide, Mustapha.
Mhhh, or we just send our guide into their camp to distract them...maybe they think he was a local and while he asks dumb questions, we could sneak up on them.
"Distractions are always nice...but if tha thing us an' them are waitin' fer is that important, might they not jes shoot him on sight?"
Liam shields his eyes and peer down towards the Germans, trying in vain to make out the camp in the wind and sand.
"Do we know what tha' packet is? Or is that "need to know" basis?"
Seems we know WHAT we are to do, seems straightforward enough, get in there, steal a packet, get it back to camp. It's the HOW that is causin' problems.
"Do we know how many men 'ill be on tha train? 'Cause we need tha worry about tha tank, tha men down there an' tha men on train right? That's a lot of shootin' tha be done."
"Gregori is thinking oen tank can carry all men plus crate while deflecting fire of fascist cowards away from glorious soviet charge. Gregori does not need to know what is inside crate, long as it is not bomb to explode in Gregori's face Gregori is generally satisfied. If nothign else we park tank on tracks adn laugh as fascist cannot get huge complicated machine made from backs of slave labor from tracks."
"And if tank does not start like Phillip says we blow it up and take Kuebelwagen. Is plan, so Oskar, Gregori and Phillip at least must sneak in. Everyone else move to closest dune and provide covering fire on escape? Also, does box have any special markings, way to tell it right box?"
One hand smoothing out his handlebar mustache "There is one other trick we used to clear out rabbit warrens back home. Strap a stick of jelly to a bunny and send him back home, fuse runs out and he clears out the warren for you." turning to look at the camel "Hows about we blow up a camel? I can rig it so she goes boom boom when any of the Krauts take a dip in her saddlebags, then we use the rain of filthy german guts as the signal to jump out of hiding and finish off the unlucky ones still standing?"
I don't mind blowing up a camel, very imaginative idea, Mr. Hargreaves, but Oskar, we cannot take the Kuebelwagen, because there is no road leading from here to our base, in the sand the car is useless and to your question, Mr. Gregor, the train will be so full of soldiers that we rather don't even think about fighting - we have to be faster. There is a stylised wolf head on the crate, that should be sufficient to find it. Any way, let's crawl a bit closer, making out more details will help. Hop, Hop, Hop, 1400 seconds left!
"Glad you like the idea, won't take a jiffy. Slap the 808 in the tucker box, bit o cord and deto - and Bob's your uncle. standing back from the camel obviously pleased with his work. "Now no-one get silly and have a grabbo of the saddle or we'll be off to meet the big man upstairs."
Phil gets horizontal and shimmies like a frilled lizard with hot feet at the top of the dunes, and hazards a crouched run whenever the enemy is out of sight.
Acrobatics:
Liam trudges along in the wake of the others, stopping on occasion to spy on the Germans.
Time tha do some shootin' Ah take it?
"Ah, maybe Oskar is not so good at plans after all. Will keep quiet and stick to shooting for moment."
As the group moves forward Oskar bellycrawls up to the top of each dune they pass and takes a quick peak through his scope at the german camp, fixing the positions of each soldier in his mind as he does so.
At the final dune before the camp Oskar removes the scope from his rifle and carefully slides it into its leather case. Is no need for so close, just make Oskar easier target anyway. He then snaps out the legs of his bipod and locks them in place before setting himself up just below the peak of the dune, ready to pop up and start picking off Nazis when the explosions and shooting starts.
While the Major, Oskar, Philip and Liam have already reached the last dune and have also somehow managed to drag the camel with them, Gregori is still behind.
What is he doing? Is that a vodka bottle? Whatever...one of you guys able to make the camel run into the camp? I imagine trampling it through the tent next to the tank, maybe the blast even ruins the tank track on that side. Explosives ready, Mr. Hargreaves? Some kind last words for our courageous volunteer?
He peers over to the camel which just stoically eyes the German camp
A real hero...
Oskar looks sceptically at the camel, absently rubbing at a trio of long scars just visible underneath his short cropped hair.
"Oskar could try, but does not have good history with animals... always found it best to shoot and then move animal where needed... Oskar will give it slap on backside like the cow bandits in western movies, seems to work for them."
Wriggling back from his position on the dune, Oskar uses the camel's harness to pull it round so it is pointing in the general direction of the tent and then gives it a hearty smack to the hindquarters in an attempt to set it on it's way.
"Aye Major, she's rigged and ready. When the first Jerry comes for a looksie we'll get a flash and bang show."
What is he doing? Is that a vodka bottle?
With vodka bottle in hand Gregori shares a quick drink with the brave suicide camel ensuring that it is a mildly drunk brave suicide camel.
"Is good for suicide soldier to be getting one final drink before wandering into final battle."
His mission of mercy done Gregori joins the others by the dune.
Acrobatics.
As Oskar gives the camel a smack on the back, Gregori stumbles forward, leaving the cover and standing on the peak of a dune.
And while the camel gallops down the dune, you suddenly hear the voice of one of the guards
Fritz, schau mal da, ein entlaufenes Packkamel. Das schnapp ich mir, ich glaub, da hinter war sogar noch eins.
Fritz, look over there! A runaway pack camel! I'll get it and I think there was another one behind it.
The other one grins and replies
Ja Hans, aber wenn was zu saufen drauf ist, dann wird geteilt, hehe.
Yup Hans, but if there's booze on it, we will divide it among all of us, heh.
He grabs the camel by the reins and begins to drag it into the camp.
Realizing his sudden exposure Gregori falls to one knee behind the dune. Cursing quietly.
As he finds a position on the dune he carefully pulls his M1 Garand from his back, fixing the bayonet in place. Just in case...
He carefully checks the magazine and then pats the stock affectionately as he puts it in place and sights down at the German camp.
His eyes rest on the German by the by the wagon, trusting in the explosion to take care of the two closest. Carefully he begins to recite the Lord’s Prayer.
"In nomine Patris...et Filii...et Spiritus Sancti"
He then takes his crucifix and places it between his teeth, waiting tensely.
Phil tries to put together a logical plan of action for how the unit was going to divide the targets up....
Intelligence Check for 'Plan':
....but something gets lost in translation between the whispered words and sand sketches, leaving the rest somewhat confused as to what was intended.
The German soldier in the front notices the full saddle bag and hoping to find booze, money, maps or secret documents...even corned beef would be better than what's really inside...unstraps the saddlebag.
A moment later, after a deafening explosion, the camel is running away, confused and wounded, but quite alive - the fact that the bomb was so close to its body made most of the impact hit the Germans.
While one of the two Landsers lies at the ground only able to moan after his arm was torn off, the other one yells
Falle! Eine scheiß Falle, Hilfe!
A trap! A f.ucking trap, help me!
Surprise Round
Leaving the wounded German to his comrades, Phil crab walks northward behind the cover of the dune top.
Gregori follows Phillip eager to being making shoot but not eager to begin getting shot.
Liam crawls up right near to the major, readying himself for the firefight to come.
He keeps a little distance between himself and the major, just in case the Germans have grenades.
As the others move up to attack Oskar pokes his rifle over the top of the dune. Jamming the butt into his shoulder and pressing his cheek to the stock, Oskar takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, calmly lining up his sights on the injured german as he does so. His finger tightens ever so slightly on the trigger and he holds his breath for a moment. The rifle's hammer drops and sets of an explosive chain reaction that ends in a loud bang and a hot piece of steel jacketed lead rocketing across the desert sand toward it's distant target.
Round 1:
At the cracking retort of Oskar's rifle, Phil's mind turns to the tank. Hope the bugger doesn't start, but if it does.... ain't gonna do much good this far away from it. And on that thought he bounds up from hiding like a kangaroo and hoofs it across the dunes towards the tank.
Shouting over his shoulder as he runs "Keep the kraut's heads down, I'll see to the heavy machinery." his lanky frame cutting a slightly comical figure with his rifle slung crossways on his back, messanger bag of explosive greetings jumping up and down at his side and pistol in hand.
Oskar's bullet smashes through the landser's neck and makes him whirl around, dead before he even hits the sand,
With the bomb and that precise shot, tank driver and commander are taken out and the remaining two gunners (Philip has spotted one inside the tent) and the kuebelwagen driver try their best to defend the heavy machine.
Rd 1 order:
Liam
Cornelius
Oskar
Philip (resolved)
Germans
Gregori
The moment the first German falls Oskar begins scanning for a next target, he quickly realises that the tank is blocking any shot and jumps to his feet. Swinging his bag onto his back he makes ready to sprint down the other side of the dune and toward the camp.
Liam stands up, looks for a good spot to run to and spies the row of sandbags.