Gregori runs close behind Phillip smiling broadly at the mans sizable balls. Gregori has no doubt he will turn this group into proper men in short order.
Two of the Germans skirt the tank on the northern side while the third hurries out of the tent and fires at Gregori with his Walther PPK
Nimm das, du Schwein!
The major stays close to Liam shouting all the time
Mow them down, Hop Hop Hop!
Rd 2
Liam
Cornelius
Oskar
Philip
Germans
Gregori
Having the major shouting in his ear does nothing to improve Liams humour, which is already low thanks to the searing heat.
Ah'll bloody well "hop" ye in a minute if ya don't shut up!"
Wisely, he decides to hold back the profanities (for now) and instead imagine how nice it would be if the major accidently found his way on the train tracks, was moved down by the train and then had the wounded camel collapse on top of him right after.
Round 2:
Noticing that the Germans to the North of the tank seem nicely close together, Phil starts grinning Silly buggers never learn.... Fishing out a wee pineapple from his messenger bag Phil steps out from behind the tank "Here you are matey - CATCH!" as he lobs the grenade skyward at the closest German.
No sooner is the missile out of his hand then Phil hits the deck and kisses the sand with his hands on top of his slouch hat.
Grenade Toss:
Scatter Roll:
Damage Roll: DC15 Reflex for half
Looking dumbfounded, both Germans try to run away in different directions, slamming slap-stick like into each other, becoming a thrashing pile of...minced meat...
The last remaining soldier drops his pistol at once and falls on his knees.
Nix will fight mehr! I geb up!
He says in his strange German gibberish.
From behind the tent you hear the Major's voice
Good job, gentlemen and now find the crate, HOP HOP HOP!
Gregori can be accused of many things but being nice is not one of them, particularly after being shot at. He knocks the german officer to the ground with his rifle butt spitting curses and epithets at him in a long loud string of russian and shaking so violently his rifle might discharge from his sheer rage.
Liams training takes over and he goes from body to body, checking for signs of life.
His medical kit is in his hand as he aproaches the German on the end of a savage beating.
"Easy there big man, not much fun hitting someone not fightin' back is it? He's giving up, let me have a look at him."
Thinking a little tact might be in order he adds.
"Ah think the major wants yah to find the crate, what with yah being strong enough tha carry it."
Oskar had been moving along the dunes to line up a shot on the german by the tent when he surrendered so instead he jogs into the campsite to join up with the rest of the squad and search for the box. He shakes his head and spits at the sight of Gregori wailing on the remaining German.
"Is typical Soviet, let a man surrender and then shoot him in back of head. No warrior code in Russia, just peasants and thugs."
Oskar quickly collects the fallen and surrendered soldier's weapons and hops up to take a look inside the tank before starting to look for the crate.
Gregori doesn't seem to hear Oskar as he turns to Liam with a murderous look in his eyes. For a second it looks like Liam will get a face to butt demonstration of the sturdiness of soviet design when Gregori simply smiles and turns to the german on the ground.
"You behave for praying man or Gregori come back and f~#% you with his bayonet till you scream for god yourself, yes?"
With that Gregori storms off and searches the tent.
Picking himself back up off the ground, Phil has an grin from ear to ear. Dusting off the sand, he retrieves his pistol and holsters it "Nice bit of exercise, pity there weren't a few more of them to play with..." He stops for a few moments and surveys the camp.
"Well now, we can't be leaving all the toys for the Krauts to come and pick back up. Major - you said we can't take the kubel, mind if I have a wee bit of fun?"
To avoid being too close to an angry Gregori, Oskar heads over to the trailer and checks for any wolf head stamped crates tucked into, under or generally around it.
Von Gilding walks into the camp like Caesar did when he sudbued the Celts. Don't paying attention to the prisoner he walks over to the tank, knocks at it and grins
Mr. Hargreaves, any chance you can drive this baby through the desert?
Inside the tent Gregori finds the decribed a crate. It's not bigger than a ordinary cardboard box but quite heavy for its size.
The German prisoner remains quiet after Gegroi's threat and looks to the ground, obviously waiting to be shot.
Von Gilding meanwhile calls over to Oskar
tell the guide to come down here with the camels, will you?
Grinning wryly at the Major "I'll give it a red-hot go" and he then clambers aboard to open the hatch and get started trying to get the tank started. Not reading German, he tends to operate off a more intuitive basis.
Gregori drags the crate out of the tent.
"Crate is found! Now Gregori make sure germans come home to sorrow and thirst instead ammo and food."
With that he makes the search for "loot" up to and including enemy soldiers socks.
With that he makes the search for "loot" up to and including enemy soldiers socks.
"Yessir, Oskar will be back in a minute." Slinging whatever rifles he found over his shoulder Oskar jogs out of the camp and returns a few minutes later with the guide and all his camels.
"Major Gilding, guide is wanting extra pay for blowing up of camel. I did not say anything, left it to you."
Upon his return Oskar checks the Kuebelwagon for any valaubles before cutting a rag from the uniform of one of the dead Nazis and jamming it into the petrol tank. He then rolls a cigarette and sits on the bonnet of the car waiting for the petrol to soak into the rag enough for him to light it.
The "loot" consists of ten rations, three pack of cigarettes, three Walther PPK, two Mauser 98 K (same statistics as the M1 Garand), two hand grenades and 250 Reichsmark.
Soon the tank is running and there are no signs of overheating.
After Oskar has told the Major that the guide demands some compensation, he sighs, takes some of the Reichsmark bills (50 mark) and walks over to him.
Meanhwile Oskar has set the Kuebelwagen on fire and after about ten seconds the car is blwon up with a flash of fire.
"All but one o' the Germans are dead Major Gilding, an' no injuries sustained by our lot. What do we do with tha prisoner?"
Liam has been busy patching up the German soldier, mostly stopping bleeding and doing his best to keep the swelling down.
"Maybe we best bring 'im along fer tha ride? Don' want 'im tellin' the rest of the Gerries 'ow we look."
War is war, the major might just put a bullet in 'im, but it won't be me doin' that.
Lighting one of the cigarrettes for himself he dumps the whole lot itno the running tank along witha collection of boots and socks before calling to the rest and getting to the crate.
"Someone is making carry with crate yes? Come on shoot fascist and we go home!"
As the major returns, he shoots Gregori a puzzled look, points at the socks, but then just shakes his head. Turning to Liam he responds
Good point Mr. McGregor. We will take him with us. He will be send to the P.O.W camp in Algiers. Hey, someone help Gregori with the crate, thanks to Mr. Hargreave's wonderful talents we are able to leave now.
He takes a look at his watch and adds
We should hurry now, 800 left. Hop Hop Hop!
Oskar strolls over from where he had been admiring the burning car and takes one side of the crate and with Gregori's help hoisting it onto and then into the tank.
"Oskar will stay on outside of tank, shoot at any Nazis who try to follow."
Oskar takes a seat on the top of the turret and waits for their prisoner and the rest of the squad to bundle into the contraption so they can be off.
Liam motions with his rifle for the prisoner to move ahead. He finds a good place in the tank where he can sit with his rifle pointed at the German.
"You are our prisoner, give us no trouble and you might survive the day. You already know what happens if you make the big man mad."
"Prisoner secured sah! McGregor ready tha leave."
A few seconds after the engine starts, you see Phil's head pop out the open hatch atop the tank and give a sloppy salute with a wide smile on his face "Righto lads, the cavalry awaits"
After the major and the squad climb aboard with the crate and any other spoils of victory Phil gets the tank underway "She corners like a bloody mule Major, but she'll get us back alright. Any chance we could wait for the train and test out 'Bessie's' turret?" hopefully questioning.
If turned down "Ah bugger, still not too bad a haul for the first trip out."
"Maybe is good idea for tank to stop before we are reaching camp, Oskar get off and tell camp that panzer coming is captured and not to shoot? Is just a thought."
Oskar settles back and enjoys the slight breeze caused by their travel, keeping an eye out of any signs of pursuit as he does so.
Von Gilding climbs the tank and positions himself at the front like a captain at the bow of his ship.
Mr. Hargreaves, accelerate! Hop Hop Hop!
The tank, full of an allied special command and a lone beaten and fearful German, rumbles back to the camp after the major has clarified that waiting for the train is not an option.
They would call a Stuka that would tear us to shreds in mere minutes, no we leave now. Enough havoc for one day
A white flag poking out of the main cannon, the tank rolls through the base's main gate where you are greeted by the whole English regiment that is stationed here, with a lot of "Halloohs" and "Huzzahs".
Great job gentlemen! I will meet you all tomorrow at seven hundred. Until then, no orders, enjoy your victory.
Phil pulls the Panzer into whatever passes for a vehicle bay in the camp before killing the engine and clambering out. With a somber look on his face he accosts the nearest British motorhand and addresses him "Give her a good wash and top up the tank for us" before winking and moving on.
Fishing a pack of ciggies from his bag he flicks one into his mouth before offering to the rest of the squad. Lighting it up he takes a deep drag.
Liam shakes a hand at Ohillip offering him a smoke; instead he produces an old and battered pipe and begins to stuff it with tobacco.
"Ah say we did good boyos! Got tha box, got a prisoner for inter'gation, stole a tank, an' nobody was hurt.
An' we used minimal resources tha boot. Begorrah, but tha is a good feelin'. We went in an' out as fast as the Sidhe ridn' tha wind."
Gregori just smiles and nods as he shares the wealth of boots, socks, german rations and weapons among the group. He then changes out his ratty sand encrusted holed up and nasty socks for new socks fresh from the fascist corpse.
"Prisoner is lucky to be in capitalist hands. He get nice warm bed and food for rest of war. Last prisoner Gregori's unit had was fed stones until bursting and then drag behind tank until the screaming stopped." Gregori says this as a matter of fact with none of the sadistic jollyness he might normally portray.
Liam lights his pipe and begins to puff on it thoughtfully.
"Pity there was no officers, Ah was hopin tha get myself one o' them Lugers fer a sov'ner"
He shrugs nonchalantly and idly plays with his combat knife.
"Ah wish mah ol' Liutenant had brought 'is with 'im when 'e came to tha' medical tent...Ah could have brought it with me after cutting 'is neck."
Clapping Liam on the shoulder as he smokes "Don't fret my pet, I'm sure there'll be a bunch more Krauts ready and willing to cough up a luger for you in the future."
Liam nods at Phillip.
"Ya, one way or another. Assumin' yah won't jes blow 'em all up first o' course."
After one long pull on his pipe, Liam decides to come clean.
"Yah all know how tha major is an ex SS man? Well...yah see..."
Liam slowly rolls back his sleeve to reveal a simillar tatto on his own arm.
"Ah was foolish, the Gerries were fighting tha English...and I wanted tha help em kill some...didn't think much about it at first...but some o' the things they done...I had to get out, had to set things right..."
"The first step to becoming good communist comrade is admitting that one is either greedy or fascist." Gregori says as he starts trying on the various pairs of boots to see which ones fit best.
-A man just under 6 feet, walks over to Gregori. He is wearing a white suit and a white fedora shades his face from the desert sun. A practiced eye would notice he has a gun in a shoulder holster, but carries no obvious weapons. He carries a leather dispatch case which is chained to his wrist.
-He removes his hat, and reveals his face. His head is shaved, and he has the eyes of a Kazakh or Buriyat, but the unmistakable round face of a russian. He says to Gregori in native Russian with a far eastern accent,
Здравствуйте. Меня зовут Владимир Ли, Николаевича. Тайной полиции, Гоминьдан, в последнее время в эту организацию
In English he adds Greetings. I'm Vladimir Kim, and have recently been attached to this organisatsiya. Forgive me but my English is not so excellent. I am from Shanghai, China, and my orders are to assist in the areas of espionage, sabotage, interrogation, and assassination. I have experience in all of these and speak English, German, Japanese, Chinese and my native tongue as well
To anyone staring at him, Vladimir shouts My mother was Chinese! Anything else!? He glares around like an angry dog, just daring anyone to make eye contact with him.
Winking at Liam "I'll promise I'll leave the next one with fancy epaulettes to Oskar or Gregori"
Proferring a cigarette to the newcomer "I'm Phil and I blow sh*t up." waiting to see if he takes one before putting the pack back in his bag.
He bows slightly,take the cig, opens a silver cigarette case of his own, and places your cigarette inside it.
Thank you Phil. You are Anglish yes?
Settling Ivan with a stern gaze "Do I look like I'm a tea drinking, crumpet sniffing, limp wristed fecking Englishman? I'm Australian mate, we might have the bloody Queen on our money - but theres a world of difference"
You see Ivan slowly repeating each word, and opens his case and removes an english-russian dictionary. So you are NOT from England...you are from Australia...but what is this word...fecking? How to spell? He asks you, in all seriousness.
Phillip's face screws up in confusion a few moments before he guffaws with laughter. "Never mind that one mate."
английский мат-так трудно понять. English vulgarism, is hard to understand. He shrugs his shoulders.
A group of laughing English soldiers passes you and one of them throws you a bottle of some liquor over and points at a large tent. With a heavy scouse accent he explains thate there is going to be the Cindy Whitefalls performance tonight.
All of you know Cindy from posters and postcards, she is a blonde bombshell who does small time in North African bases because she wasn't able to get any more roles in the film industry after the outbreak of the war.
As the soldiers pass by, Liam looks away, puffing furiously on his pipe and scowling.
Lime bastards...ah might be fightin' with ya now, but Ah don' have to like ya!
"Communist comrade? Ah care about one thing only, freeing Ireland from oppression. If being a "communist comrade" would do that, ah'd be on tha bandwagon in one second flat."
Liam gives Ivan a cursory once over, then shrugs and goes back to smoking and making small talk with Phillip.
"Ah can see why they'd be excited, not a lot o' women 'ere, wish we 'ad one in tha unit."
Gregori looks over at the chinese man his mouth agape for a long moment as he speaks. He seems as if he has a million things to say but cannot say them due to the sheer crowding of them around his mouth. As the soldiers pass he snatches the bottle and mutters an excuse for himself in Russian wandering over to the large tent.
To Liam: "Aye and since they're mostly English fops we'll shine out by comparison" before standing back upright from the spot he's leaning against. "Whatdya say - should we go have a geezer at the lady?"
"Come on... Ivan aint it? I'll explain the difference between a pasty Englishman and a bronzed Australian on the way"
Inside the large tent at least 200 hundred Tommies have assembled. Sitting in rows in front of a rickety wooden stage adorned with the Union Jack, they wait for the show to start. Bottles of beer and spirits are shared and given around and someone has managed to shoot two Thomson-Gazelles that now rotate over a fire with a spit put through them.
A young leftenant walks through the rows, holding a can in his hand asking for alms for wounded fellows who are sent back to England.
Hey, you guys are the commandos, eh? Got some spare dollars?
Li says nothing. Just stares at the guy, hoping he goes away.
Wo ting bu dongHe grunts in mandarin
Liam, secretly overcome with compassion (even if they are English) Silently hands out what dollars he has on him at the moment.
After that he tries to decide if he is hungry, thirsty or mostly just interested in the show.
"Ah wonder wha' kind o' act they're fixin' tha show in a place like this?"
Oskar doesn't say anything, but the stony expression on his face says more than enough about his opinion of the new recruit to the squad. When Gregori breaks away from the rest of the group he takes it as an opportunity to distance himself from the unpleasant man and once in the tent he finds a place leant against one of the support poles and rolls another cigarette.
When the man with the can comes past Oskar drops in a few dollars, remembering his old comrades with their fingers taken by frostbite and bodies ravaged by soviet bullets. Good deed for the day done with, Oskar heads toward Gregori, determined to get a taste of whatever the spirit is before it all disappears into the drunkard russian.