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[Aseaheru]

July 24th, 2000

 From the Diary of Petty Officer 3ed Class Harry Gaylord, USN
 Things have quieted down some now, the Russians apparently content that they have wiped out our forces in the area. I bet they think that SAM of theirs wiped me out, along with the rest of the crew. Dunno why we where picking up those seals, but, hey, at least one of them lived... We managed to hook up with a bunch of dudes left over from the fifth infantry, hope they got a plan.


 The war, atleast for you, is over. The fifth infantry division is in shambles, spread over much of central Poland, with hostile units all around. But you still have to live. And in a world where governments are fractured, where the people are largely bent and broken, where finding your next meal is often a fight to the death... Well, that war has just begun.

 For you and the other survivors (or otherwise associated individuals) of the 5th Infantry Division(mechanized), what happens next is the question...

OOC Thread and info

[StrawBarrel]

It is a summer morning and a man sits in a forest clearing. The man sits on a log. Although a sizeable log, the log is dwarfed by the rather large man. Also resting on the log, next to the large man, is a bulky pig, more formal known as the M60. Resting in his dark brown hands is a lightly singed kevlar helmet. Wallace stares intently at the burns. After his brown eyes break contact with the helmet, he sighs deeply.

Chief Petty Officer Wallace Gordon sits and waits for the others.

((OOC: We're in the forest described in the OOC intro, right?))

[3_14159]

The leaves rustle slightly as a tall, lanky man steps out into the clearing. His angular face --- sporting a scar on the right cheek --- is dirty, just like his uniform while his boots and the scoped rifle he's carrying are clean. He looks slightly more relaxed than any of his companions would've seen during the last weeks. As he draws closer to the encampment, making sure that he's been seen, he nods towards the waiting man.
"Chief," he says, his accent making the small flag patch on his uniform redundant, "I have still not seen any patrols or pursuit. I believe it is fair to say that we have finally outdistanced them."

[Knave]

For the first time in recent memory, Dr. Marshal Matthias was not awoken by the sound of gunfire, shelling, or the shouting of his fellow soldiers pleading for a medic, but by the creeping sunlight of a sunny day. The last few days seemed like a godsend, no patrols and relative calm in the camp.

Marshal stretched slowly, rising from his impromptu napping spot in the Humvee. In the back of his mind he knew they weren't out of the woods yet, (literally) but he allowed himself to ease into the morning. Brewing a small pot of coffee he fixed himself a cup and poured the rest into a thermos. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply the scent of the morning brew. He knew it would taste horrible, but he really didn't care.

He walked at a leisurely pace to a small gathering by a fallen log. He knew they were all tired, but there was a palpable sense of relief over the small reprieve they had given themselves.

"Colonel, Chief." he offered each a friendly nod, extending the thermos of coffee for anyone else to partake in. "I don't remember the last time I slept that well." He rubbed the back of his neck trying to work out a small kink. "I think we should probably have a discussion on where we want to go from here. It's quiet now, but it won't be forever. We also have to figure out what to do with our... 'guest'."

[StrawBarrel]

Wallace takes a sip of coffee. He then glances over his shoulder. Seeing only trees, he returns his attention back to the group.

"Well Captain," Wallace says. "I figure we probably ought to travel west and try to link up some friendly forces. The only problem is that we only have three vehicles and not enough gas for all of 'em. Luckily we got ourselves a still and a forest so we can probably spend a few days trying to fill our thousand liter tank. As for that woman... I don't really know, Captain."

[3_14159]

Kepler takes one of the cups, thanking Wallace.

"Moving westwards seems to be the best course of action. Long-term, that is. For now, we should gather supplies and reconnoitre the area. Find out who lives here, how to exfil, how to get food. I think we're fairly safe here, but I want to make sure."
He takes a sip of coffee and looks towards the van with the prisoner.
"I don't know either, Captain. For now, talk to her. Maybe she knows something about the enemy disposition?"

[Funk]

As for the woman she is Serzhant Lilya Grigorievna Suchkova, Formally of the 20th Soviet armor  and now a captive of U.S. 5th Infantry Division(mechanized).

Lilya stairs up at the tree line as she plait's her light brown hair in two long braids.
As the man, Kepler turns towards her she speaks
"You Yankees. You want go home? home west, what west? Big sea west. You want go US? Go east, We walk It long way."
Lilya's English is broken and simple as if she constrained by her vocabulary.

[Aseaheru]

 Funk, can you make a language test against a... 6?

[StrawBarrel]

"Walking?" Wallace says, turning to Lilya. "That's a good idea. We can converse gas by scouting the general area on foot for now."

((OOC: Ignore this post if we have to make rolls first.))

[Funk]

Funk, can you make a language test against a... 6?

(18 on a 20d, this is a simple concepts right?)

[Knave]

Matthias stroked his stubbled chin as he considered the options given to him. "Not inclined to head back East into that hornet's nest. That's for sure." He frowned a moment before producing his map. Not once at his time at Fort Sam did he ever believe he would be responsible for command decisions "Not sure State side would be any better to be honest, but hard to believe it would be worse than here."

"This was the last given fallback position that was given to me." He jabbed a finger towards Kalisz in the southwest. "If we're looking to meet up with our brothers in the 5th, this is probably our best bet. Do we have a concrete idea of our fuel situation? How long do you think it would take to brew up enough juice to get us the 40 or so klicks? We'll also need a couple volunteers to reconnoitre the area. Would be good to get eyes on Turek to the Northwest as well."

[3_14159]

"How many will be left of the fifth? We haven't heard anyone on the radio for days." Kepler takes another sip of coffee. "We'll need ten days, maybe two weeks for forty klicks. Less if we're moving by roads." He finishes the coffee, hands the cup back to Matthias.
"I'll do the reconnaissance. This was my line of work once, after all. How about you look for food in the meantime? I'd prefer to keep our provisions for emergencies."

[StrawBarrel]

"I'm ready to some marching. You can sign me up for recon too, Captain." The CPO says.

[Aseaheru]

 Arron, looking up from the book he had managed to snag from somewhere, takes the time to comment. "Anyone else fail to understand what the Ruskie said? Sounded rude, thats about all I understood."
Meanwhile, Harry is busy sleeping underneath the Unimog.

[StrawBarrel]

"Whatcha got there Arron?" Wallace says, gesturing at the book.