Location: 1 km south of the village of Ladek Starey
Time: 1505 20 July 2000
<After stashing his ruck and most of his gear, he moves to the flank of the remaining group, holding his weapon
in a nonthreatening manner - yet ready for near instant use.
He steps into the open, gripping his weapon a little tighter in anticipation of eating lead, and challenges the
group: "Identify yourselves!">
Lee swings his M249 to bear on the newcomer. "You identify YOURSELF!" he shouts "Drop the weapon,
NOW! You're outgunned 3 to 1. You may get me, but not my friends."
Lee motions for the two villagers to keep their AK's on the stranger.
Keeping the 16 muzzle down, Smith raises his left outstretched, fingers splayed.
"Hold on, bruthah!! I ain't here to be no goldilocks... Come on now, you ever seen a Sov this black befo'??
Besides, it's really just you 'n me anyway. Popgunners don' count no how, and I woulda-coulda hadja officier butt
from the treeline anywhooo."
Pause.
In his best parade ground, non-com drawl, "Suh, Seeeargent Emmit Smith, No Relation, US Ahhrmy Rangers, currently
detached and lawst behind emmenny laihnes, suh!!! Suh, absolutely no relation, suh!!" If a guy could be at
patrol ready and attention at the same time, this is what it would look like... in spades.
Lee keeps his M249 trained on the sergeant. "Shoulda, woulda, coulda, Mr. Smith. You alone or are there some
more of your boys waiting to bushwack us? Quite frankly, I don't care if you are black, white, brown, or red white
and friggen blue."
He slightly cocks his head towards the sounds of the firefights to the north and to the south. "You hear that?
That's some of my friends getting shot and killed, so I ain't to happy about someone waltzing into camp with a
weapon, asking ME to IDENTIFY MYSELF." Lee then gestures to the two villagers, "See these two guys. They
used to live in a small village about a klick north of here, pretty nice place, until a Russian patrol came by.
All
the villagers are on the run now. They ain't too happy about strangers with weapons right now."
Lee then points his M249 above the newcomer's head and squeezes off one shot. Then he points it back at the new
guy, he shouts "The next one's between your eyes or between your legs, your choice. I advise putting the weapon
down, then we talk. NOW BREAK YO' SELF FOO' !"
Smith snaps back "You a might bit insecure fo' an offisuh puke, and settin' a record for offisuh-type stupidity.
You think I drag mah sorry ass all the way up here just to say 'howdy, crackah'? Or 'yess, massa'? I woulda whacked
yer ass if I didn' think you was red, white, and blue. I guess I fergot all about the damn confederate flag bein'
the same fuckin' colors."
"Nor would I have hopped outta the bushes if I had privates and corporals left... You do the rank math. That's
why you're back here where it's safe, and the rest o' ya' units out there dyin', suh!!"
"We all live a world of Sov-eee-it diesel-drenched shit at the moment, so pardon mahself if'n I ain't to sympathetic
to yer conscripts, but if'n you even so much as wiggle that triggah fingah in mah direction, I'm gonna empty this
entire magazine down yer throat and eat yer punks fer breakfast barehanded."
"Now get off'n yer shit and be sociable like the rest of us. Sounds like you need a good noncom, suh. 'Specially
if these two's all yous got left. If you got half a command and control brain left in yer head, you'll be wantin'
to hear what I *know* about why the damn, gasoline-powered, Sov-eee-it energizer bunny's whuppin' ya' ass."
"Yer call, dip-, er sorry, suh. This'n can go easy fer ya', or hard... but I ain't puttin' nothin' down, and
I got the goddamn decency not to point my little stick at yo' ass. You choose, suckah."
Lee thinks to himself "I hope that Ikeman gets back soon, he'll be able to tell if this jackass is for real
or not, and teach him some manners..."
Smith notes that the vehicles are in decent shape, and that one of the trucks has a red star on the door. The leader
has a M249 SAW, and the two others have AKs.
1700 meters south of the village of Ladek Starey
Time: 1505 20 July 2000
<Ingle thinks to himself "So here I lay, waiting for someone to show the initiative to check me over and
discover that I am not a bad guy." He begins to loudly sing a collection
of tunes by Laura Branigan. "Gloria, how's it going to go down? Will you meet him on the mainline, or will
you catch him on the rebound?" After about 2 minutes he yells out "There are Warsaw Pact forces around,
and I want BLOOD!">
Ingle, waiting for someone to move, begins to sing again "Oh say can you see, by the dawn's early light..."
Off key, of course. "You people mind if I put a field dressing on my leg, so I don't bleed to death?!"
Ikeman shouts "SHUT YOUR HOLE DAMNIT! I'M ON MY WAY!" Ikeman slowly moves forward towards Ingle. Once
there, he kicks away his weapon and does a quick pat-down. He then puts a field dressing on Ingle's leg. Once finished,
he says "let's see your ID." Ingle slowly pulls out his ID and hands it to Ikeman. Ikeman looks it, then
Ingle, then at the ID again, then Ingle. He finally says "what unit were you with? who won the 1967 Superbowl?
Who is the best boxer ever?"
<Whitedog hears the singing and shakes his head, thinking to himself "whoever is singing wants to make
sure they don't get shot, but with singing like that, they just might!" He then advances slowly towards the
singer, keeping an eye out for the ambusher that shot the singer.>
Stewart hollers back at the shooter "THAT WAS RUDE! DON'T PISS ME OFF OR THIS SNAKE EATER WILL OPEN A CASE
OF WHOOP ASS!" He then waits for a response from the machine gunner.
Location: 2km East of Highway 43, 14 km Southeast of Ladek Starey
Time: 1430 20 July 2000
<Major Pickett says "no tools, and I don't really want to stick around for too long. We passed a set of
tracks of a friendly AT unit about 10k north of here, they may have the tools you need. They were heading east
by the tracks. You might want to link up with them. As for myself and the rest of my group we are going to Krakow...we
heard rumors that the city has electricity and running water. We are going to check it out. I know what you are
thinking, and as much as I'd like an additional man, it's probably better for you to link up with that AT unit.">
SFC Smith sighs deeply as he lets the words sink in...
"Have they abandoned me? Where the hell will I go?" Smith thinks, trailing off.
He soon comes to grips and picks up his gear, and takes a moment to see the crew leave, while heading on, in search
of the other unit he was informed to link up with.
As Smith continues with the journey, his primary weapon is softly cradled in his arm, in a cautionary yet relaxed
fashion for easy access. In the meantime, SFC Smith takes note of the surroundings, combing the ground for any
tracks and signs of recent passage.
Suddenly, Smith hears a twig snap behind him, followed by a voice, "Drop your weapon and turn around real
slow" Smith, being an intelligent fellow, does as he is told. He turns around to stare down the barrel of
G11 rifle at a range of about 10 meters. The individual is wearing what seems to be an american style uniform,
though it has no patches or other distinguishing marks. The soldier speaks "Name, Rank, Serial Number, Unit,
Commander."
LTC Star observes Smith while waiting for him to answer. He dresses the part of an american soldier quite well,
having the most complete uniform he's seen in a while, almost too complete.