"So ... Colonel Darling ... Sir! No trace of Panzers?"
"No. The panzers are mostly focused in Tunisia and Algeria and they are having a hard time keeping the supplies flowing to where they are, let alone the deep parts of Egypt. Three lorries means at least 30 men on detached duty, looking to haul back antiquities."

After's Alistaria's report
Thank you Lieutenant Thanatos, as always you leave me wondering why we have a research division when we have you. Imagine what would happen if this staff worked and the jerries could summon up water and food in the desert? They wouldn't need to wait on their supply lines. Water that heals? It boggles the mind to consider that in Hitler's grimy hands."

Honestly, mummies, right? You ever hear anything about how to fight a mummy? Or any other legends of Egyptian critters we need to prepare for? Is there anything we need to be sure to bring?"
"Ahh yes, excellent question Private McGuiness. " Darling answered and pulled a folder of papers out of his bag, "On this topic, I may have, for once, more relevant information. I managed to get a copy of Howard Carter's notes for the KV62 incident. It was not easy as Pierre Lacau had forbidden any copies to be made and thought he had destroyed them all. Luckily I was able to talk to Mina ... I mean Almira Herbert, the former Countess of Carnarvon and she had her personal assistant write us a copy of the only notes left in England. I am afraid they are a bit spotty, as Carter was not a military man and clearly shaken up by the events that lead up to the excavation of KV62." Darling looks up from his musings and realizes everyone is staring at him with some surprise, "Oh yes, the King Tut affair was a very violent one with many things that were, how shall I say it - unexpected. Luckily the media took off with the" Mummy's curse" rot and we swept most of it under that rug. But keep in mind that does not mean you will be dealing with the same here. "

Summary of Carter's notes: Carter makes reference to meeting up with undead and supernatural while excavating the famous Tut's tomb. He ran into zombie like creatures raised from the servants, animals and minions buried within the tomb. He ran into spirits and apparitions that sucked the life out the living as well as statues that animated and attacked people. He also faced a well-preserved priest that was able to cast fire and lightning around and could not be killed until they found all the canopic jars that held his inner organs and destroy them. The Tut mummy itself never rose up against them.

Low level Undead - extreme trauma to the head kills them. Fire also kills but slower.

Spirits and ghost like creatures - Cannot cross barrier of salt, shotgun spray of salt disperses them (disperse as in they dematerialize and take some time to reform), sunlight/bright light causes them to disperse. No known way of killing

Statues and inanimate objects - a lot of damage until the structural integrity of object gives way

Higher Undeads (embalmed undead) - Head shots do not work, fire and strong light drives them back but setting them on fire only makes them angry and more dangerous (flaming undead). Canopic jars seem to hold their souls so they all have to be destroyed to kill them. Sunlight may work but they are usually far underground.

"How about you ... Colonel Darling ... Sir? Any Theories?"
"None that I care to conjecture Corporal Miller. I believe we have seen enough things that were beyond our scope of expertise to not dismiss this as balderdash and poppycock. The SS certainly believes they have potential so we must assume the same.

Star's Story......

Star awoke, swallowing the sense of dread and fear that churned her stomach. Looking around the room she recognized she was in her room, not the cell. She was in the barracks not in the holding cells that they had dumped her in for weeks on end in the Nazi castle. Wiping her brow she winced the scar on her should blade pinching, pulling the skin taunt. The old scars burned into her shoulders were healed; the pain only minor. Even after so long, the first few long minutes of every morning was the same.

Star brushed her hair having to use her good arm to support the other as she held the brush. After struggling slightly she managed to get dressed and look half presentable.

Going down to the medical office she looked around for Doc.

"Hey doc! ", Star grinned seeing Doc turn and roll his eyes at her with a smile.

"Hey Ali."

"Don't call me that!", she huffily growled under her breath."
"Ya, got a minute?... I need you to look at something for me."

Star made a gesture with her thumb over her shoulder as if pointing to her back. Winching as the muscle pulled taught and her arm froze in place before going limp to her side.

Doc's worried glowers made Star blush slightly in chiding even though nothing more was said.

Taking her aside into a private area; Doc examined her back and put a lotion on the scars and worked it into her back while they bantered back and forth to ease the tension for both of them.

Days like this made it seem like yesterday that they had saved her, but her burns were old now and she barely flinched when doc touched her scars.

Doc made a joke about her being ticklish. Star glared at him making a comment about him being on the safe side of her when making that comment or a boot may connect somewhere unpleasant as sitting on the table gave her a convenient advantage should he stand before her.

In the beginning it had been hard for both of them.
She had screamed and even cried as he had touched her back in the slightest. Once they'd gotten to the barracks he'd been the one to stitch the lacerations an clean the burns.

When Star had fought him when some of the burns had become infected.

He was gruff with her even to the point of being mean but he always bluffed only ever having to resort to actually calling someone to physically hold her down once.

Alistaria had apologized afterwards only to be rebuffed by doc.

Star trusted few like she trusted the team and fewer yet the way she trusted doc.

She'd always felt weak, but she knew she made up for it in the combined knowledge an experiences she had amassed; thought some of them weighed heavily on her.

The captain was lost in thought for a moment when Colonel Darling pulled out the aerial photos of the site they were about to visit. As Miss Thanatos relayed her knowledge, he could see the ghosts of roman soldiers roam the buildings and find their way inside. One by one the legionnaires disappeared from his mind's eye, only to be replaced by echoing screams, the clash of iron on stone and whet thuds. Through the chaos of battle a voice, not unlike his own, yelled:

"Run! That's an order. Once you're safe, I'll blow the charges!"
It was swiftly cut off by another; Corporal Clements.
"No, you go. It's been an honour to serve with all of you."
A handfull of legionnaires reappeared from between the stone architectural remains on the photograph. Last was their Centurion, looking back as he ran. Then the building exploded in a black and white mix of fire and dust.

"Hey Cap! Never heard tell of any 'Coven' during my days with the British 'Rat Patrol' units! But there be plenty of Scurvy Cut Throats roaming the sands! They be ready to slit yer throat for yer canteen of water! Any strategy suggestions Cap?"

Luke Edintore shook his head. The picture was a still image, too gritty to even see any good details, let alone the ghosts of his guilt. This was not how it was going to be this time. This time, they would be prepared.

He looked at Corporal Miller and pointed at the folder of papers containing Howard Carter's notes.

"Any suggestions? Sure, Corporal. We take those and we take them to heart. If salt is what they can't bear, we better load up the dried pork. We better stock up on anything these creatures can't bear. And the ‘Coven' does sound like an assembly of German witches, which isn't so strange after what Miss Thanatos just explained about the magical powers of this staff of Mo-Pelar. Since I don't know if witches have any weaknesses at all, we suggest we make haste and make sure we get to that staff first."

He turned to the group as a whole.

"Alright team, we have one hour before we're expected at airfield 4. I will see all of you there in thirty minutes, fully prepared. Bring whatever you can to destroy or repel this ancient Egyptian vermin. I'm sure they're still in there somewhere. They always are. Bring ammo, bring light. Bring your guts and bravery. Let's go!"

Rat response to Corban: "Okay Sniper! Snipes are One Thing! Mummies are Another! My Money is on Mummies! Ham Sandwich Tomb of Doom! Right Up Our Alley!"

Rat response to Doc: "Desert Rat Patrol and Tommy Guns! Gotta talk faster than a Tommy! Snakes are one thing! Scorpions are another! You know where you can stick that Toe Tag!"

Rat response to Colonel Darling: "No Panzers! Great News! Germans! Zombies! Animated Statues! Ghosts! Oh My!"

Rat response to Cap: "German Witches! Ancient Egyptian Vermin! Salt Supplies and Weapons! Got It Cap! See You in Thirty!"

[Time Jump]
Rat heads to the Mess Hall and Infirmary to get as much Bagged Salt and Extra Salt Pills as he can possibly carry!

He also gathers up as many Wooden Tent Stakes as he can possibly carry!

Rat packs his gear, adding as much Extra Ammunition as Possible, before heading to the Air Strip to assemble with the YeOlde Team!

Private McGuiness liked the information they had received. Going in already know a bit about how to fight these things would help a lot. He'd heard about Carter and the King Tut stuff - curse and all. (He must have learned something in Mr. Dahl's history class!) At least he'd heard what the public was allowed to hear. He needed to know it all. Too bad it didn't seem like there was much more.

"Sir. Thank you for the information. That will be very helpful. You said ‘extreme trauma to the head' for the lower types of undead. Do Carter's notes make mention of whether or not a single bullet is enough? Can I pick one off with a well-aimed bullet? Or will that take multiple bullets or a shotgun? Or do we just not know?"

The sniper paused for a breath and added, "I don't usually use shotguns. Do they need to be rigged in some way for salt? We need to get some shotguns, salt shot - and regular shot. I'd imagine a shotgun blast might be a good way to generate "extreme trauma" to the head. Anyone know if salt shot will do the same damage as regular shot? It would be nice if we didn't have to reload for different critters. And what is the most mobile way to generate a lot of light? Anybody here know this stuff?"

As the captain ordered them all to get ready to depart, Corban couldn't help but wish for a few extra minutes. "Cap'n, sir. My bags basically packed and ready. In 30 minutes is it possible to get our hands on some shotguns and shot - salt and regular? I'd love to blast a couple sandbags before we leave to compare the effects. That report gives us an edge, I'd sure love to maximize it."

After hopefully getting a few quick answers Corban ran to get his gear. It didn't take long. He'd been expecting another mission on short notice, so he'd kept it packed. But he really wanted to make sure they had the right equipment. And while he'd used a shotgun before and seen its effects, he'd never loaded one with salt. He wanted to know how it was done and what the result would be when the trigger was pulled. "Prepared" and "alive" were two words that seemed to go together in the military, especially in Ye Olde military.

Capt'n Luke finished up, "Alright team, we have one hour before we're expected at airfield 4. I will see all of you there in thirty minutes, fully prepared. Bring whatever you can to destroy or repel this ancient Egyptian vermin. I'm sure they're still in there somewhere. They always are. Bring ammo, bring light. Bring your guts and bravery. Let's go!"
Jack could see the team starting figure up what extra things they could take along, "you folk don't get carried away adding extra stuff to your kit. You get that over 95 pounds and you risk not getting up off the ground. I don't want to see no broken legs cuz you want to carry extra salt. The Colonel ‘l bet more than likely'l have a supply chute ready for us, so just take what'cha can carry."

Like the rest of the team Doc kept a kit ready, a few minor adjustments to sure everything was secure and he was ready to head to the field.

Sandwiches and tea at a briefing, little wonder the British had conquered the world all those years ago when they planned every detail over a delicious cup of the brown a bite to eat. True that they'd lost the let the US and Australia go separate ways but there was scarcely anything in Australia to make a sandwich out of that wouldn't kill you and the Yanks had thrown most of the good tea in the ocean. Now the Jerry's were having a go at world domination and thought waking up with a handful of sauerkraut and schnitzel would get the job done. Guess they weren't paying attention.

The thought snapped Sargeant Richard Harris Branigan back to reality, his internal monologue over the benefits of starting a discussion with tea causing a similar lack of attention. A quick survey of the room found he was quick enough to have not missed any of the briefing, and most fortuitously it seemed like no one had noticed his brief reverie. A lucky break, to be seen so distracted would have been,terribly ungentlemanly.

As expected, Darling was swift and to the point, laying out the objectives before the assembled group with trademark British efficiency. Dick savoured his tea as the briefing concluded, "Stop the Jerries, get the magic, bring it back home." A year ago those words would have seemed out of place, but by now he'd learned in dealing with the Nazis that there was little they couldn't mess up, including it seemed your own awareness of cosmic forces and their effects. Still, the mission remained to stop ol' Carpet Chewer from getting his hands on something that Dick couldn't understand, and that couldn't be simpler.

The abrupt clack of mishandled china assaulted Dick's ears just as the Colonel was finishing up, serving adequately to draw the group's attention to the singular woman in attendance, the non-commissioned Alistaria of Romania. A rambling explanation of some historical facts followed, giving Dick thought that perhaps the Lieutenant would be of better service in a museum of sorts as opposed alongside them on the battlefield, not that his objections had brought about any change thus far. He could only imagine the indignity of bleeding to death in the desert accompanied by her berating him for vandalising "important historical landmarks". He involuntarily shuddered.

"Hey Legs! Thanks for the History Lesson!"
Rex's trademark tactless response brought a smile to Dick's face. They were alike in many ways, Rex and Dick, but it was perhaps their differences that had made them unlikely friends. The man was uncouth, uncultured and had rightly earned his nickname of "Rat", but there were few gearheads Dick could talk to among those on the front lines so he'd have to do.

"Sarge best have a supply of explosives for any unexpected German tanks!" Rex, it seemed, had a sense of humour.

Dick stroked his moustache in mock thoughtfulness, "Well I guess I hadn't thought of that, Corporal,", his bearded face cracked a wry smile, ",I'll have to repack my bags."
Dick's mind wandered as Corbin discussed the presence of mummies. While he figured his mother would probably disapprove, Dick figured there'd be at least one ruin that would need demolishing. It wasn't exactly proper form to destroy a two thousand year old structure, but on the other hand,he was a servant of the Crown,

The Captain's orders brought an end to that temporary fantasy.

"Alright team, we have one hour before we're expected at airfield 4. I will see all of you there in thirty minutes, fully prepared. Bring whatever you can to destroy or repel this ancient Egyptian vermin. I'm sure they're still in there somewhere. They always are. Bring ammo, bring light. Bring your guts and bravery. Let's go!"
The others scattered, hurriedly seeking to pack their bags with salt, perhaps for occult obstacles, perhaps because they had no idea that sugar went much better in tea. His bags were packed and he had enough equipment to level a pyramid, he'd have plenty of time to meet the Captain at the airfield. Nodding respectfully at the Colonel as he placed his tea cup gently on the table, Dick turned to make his way out.

You all disperse to gather your gear and get ready for the mission. In a half hour time, you are on the airfield near a C-47 that is being fueled. Darling is waiting for you on the runway with two shotguns and a duffel bag. One of them you recognize as the Sauer 12g Double barrel Shotgun that you took from the farmer's house during the Rautenberg mission. The other is a pump action "Ithaca model 37 HS" in pristine condition - no really, it looks like it has never been fired or taken out of a case before.

"This is the best I could do on short notice. The Sauer you might remember but this one here is the personal property of a very dear friend of mine - so I'd appreciate it if it came back in good condition." Darling hands them over to you gingerly. "They are both the same gauge and I had young Durkins from the fire brigade load as many shells as he could with some road salt using a shell loader. Hopefully this will be enough for you."

In the duffel bag are:
two boxes of 12 double aught buck shells (24)
30 12g shells loaded with rock salt (The ice clearing road worthy rock salt)

As you board the plane you realize there is not a lot of room to sit as the cargo bay is rigged with fuel tanks and a snakepit of hoses running from them. A guy in a flight suit gives you a hand with coming on board and the supply container says, "Sorry about the tight fit there mates. We got to spend 12 hours in the air for this mission, give or take so we needed to take on extra fuel." He sniffs the gasoline scented air, "I would recommend no smoking on this flight. Sorry chums but I'd rather not risk the possibility if you caught my meaning. Hope no one is shooting at us along the way because we might just blow up like a roman candle on November 5th. Cheerio then."

OOC: Last chance to ask me for anything. More ammo? Mirror? White Phosphorus grenade?, flares?, etc etc .... you do not need to put water, salt tablets and food down, I assume everyone has 3 days worth.

If you are using the supply chute, I need to know exactly what you put into the container, just in the unlikely possibility your plane does get shot down and explodes hundreds of miles off course leaving you in the desert stranded.

Now if you want to know how effective rock salt is against humans, check out Rock Salt Shotgun. However, you have to remember the salt is for incorporeal spirit creatures only, which have no "body" to begin with, so consider that)

Private McGuiness ran for his bags hoping to get a chance to look at whatever equipment might be provided. When he arrived a bit later at the plane he was pleased to see Darling holding a couple of shotguns and a duffle bag that evidently carried shells. "Not my weapon of choice," he thought to himself, "but a good weapon for the circumstances."

Hearing about the salt loaded shells he smiled again. In the few minutes he'd had he'd gotten information off of some other soldiers more versed in the splatter-shot style of weaponry - and it seems salt shot was pretty much worthless. Except, of course, for ghosts. And that was the point. Now they'd have to decide who carried them. He didn't think he was the best choice. He could shoot one, but the rifle was his tool of choice. The up-close splatter didn't seem to require his aim. A waste of his skills, perhaps? Well, he'd have to see how the group wanted that to work.

And a couple of flashlights for light. Now that was an odd weapon. But weird times call for weird measures. Or weird critters call for weird weapons. Weird Wars call for . . . well, something like that. He grinned at Darling as he helped load the gear - "Let's go get Boris Karloff - again."

Your feet hit the sand of the desert and you roll with the impact as you've been train. Despite flying for six hours over hostile territories in a plane that could blow up if someone lit a match, you managed to complete the jump and hit the dropzone with reasonable accuracy. A good sign perhaps?

You all gather up your chutes quickly and fine the supply crate with the extra equipment. People divide up the stuff (Who is carrying shotguns?) as the sunlight is fading on the horizon. There is no one around for as far as the eye can see but there is a wisp of smoke coming from the east - the direction of the site.

Corban is the first on to find the tracks in the sand about a quarter mile from your landing site. A truck, and one that passed by recently - probably an hour or two, Rat puts forth based on the track and how little they have erodes in the sand and light wind.

Nothing to do but follow the tracks and see if they were going your way.

If you are new to my games, a Silver Screen is a reveal of something happening elsewhere in the story but that you can not react to as you are not there. I find they add to the story and make things interesting

The lorry pulled a stop outside the only semi-intact building amongst the ruins. Major Helga Von Brulga looked at the smoke rising from the back end of the building and shook her head. "Fools! They will ruin everything!" She got out of the driver's seat and moved with haste to the back of the lorry banging the sides as she did with the riding crop she carried. "Come on Ladies! Zack Zack! We have work to do!"

Out from the back of the Lorry came 12 women. All were dressed in black leather body suits and carried highly modified MP40's, a multi-pouched belt around their shapely waists and a black backpack. The ladies silently and swiftly followed the Major into the building.

"Herr Oberleutnant!" Helga cried out as she entered the main room. There, german soldier were moving bodies of the former occupants around. The Lieutenant jumped slightly and hurried to face the Major.

"Major Van Brulga!" He saluted, "I was not expecting you so soon. We have only just put down the resistance to our occupation." His eye moved to the women behind the major, "Why are these .... women here Major?"

"They are with me and you best keep your eyes and your men in check!" The Major shouted so all could hear, "Because they would all as soon kill you as kiss you and right now I am leaning towards the killing."

He looked up nervously. Major Helga Von Brulga was over 6 and a half feet tall and about 4 feet across at the shoulder. Her left eye was gone and the scar was visible on the top and bottom of the patch she wore, embossed with a death head emblem. Rumour was that an Oberst attempted to kill the Major to cover up his incompetence - by shooting her in the head. Only it took out her eye and she killed the man with her bare hands.

"Oberleutnant." The Major said curtly, "Your instruction were to keep some alive for us."

"They were very resistant Major. We were forced to fight for our lives."

The Major kicked over one of the bodies and looked at the weapon underneath, "The well trained German army is routed by religious fanatics with old rifles and knifes? Next time I see the Fuhrer I will tell him our training needs to be more stringent!"

"But Major! They ..."

"I am not interested in your excuses Oberleutnant." The major removed her gloves and started to walk across the room and to the back with the ladies following in stride.

"They had no information worth the effort." The Lieutenant said dismissively."

"That is probably true but I needed volunteers for an experiment. Now, I will have to use your men."

"What! Major! I must protest."

The major ignored the protests of the man as she made her way to the back of the build and down a large set of stairs descending under the building itself. Then they made their way into a worship room were a great number of dead bodies laid on the floor.

"Do you see it ladies?" The Major asked.

"Yes Major!" they answered in unison.

"See what?" the Lieutenant asked irately.

One of the ladies stepped out of their formation and walked up to the lieutenant. She smiled at him charmingly and playfully touched his collar, "Hi. I'm Rain. What is your name?"

"Umm. Oberleutnant Andreas Maxseiner."

"Andreas!" She purred, "What a lovely name. Can you do something for me? I want you to look me in the eyes. Yes they are up here. Keep looking in my eyes and walk backwards. It is a test Andreas and if you do what I say, you will pass."

"Umm. Rain, This is most unusual."

"I am a very unusual girl Andreas. Keep looking into my eyes. What colour are they?"

"Green. They are umm Green."

"Good. You see you can do as you are told. Keep walking and keep looking into my eyes. Yes they are still up here. Oh Gott in Himmel! Tell you what, how about you focus on this button right here." She said and pointed to the top bottom on her leather jumpsuit. "That's better! Just focus on that and if you are good, I will let you undo it."

"Umm. Sure. I can."

"Focus Andreas. Focus. And there we are. You can turn around now."

"The young man finds himself in a room with 20-foot tall walls capped by a domed ceiling. Torches attached to the walls brightly illuminate the five rune covered walls. In the center of the north wall, a 20-foot tall statue of an Egyptian man, with arms outstretched, holds an altar bowl of blazing fire near his chest some 15 feet above the floor. A stone staircase leads up to the bowl. "

"How did we get here? Who lit this fire?" Andreas asked confused.

"It is a old secret Andreas." Rain said wit ha laugh and she ran up the stairs towards the fire, "Come on Andreas! I promised you something." She said with a finger on her button.

The Lieutenant followed cautiously, still not sure where he was or what was happening. When he reached the top rain grabbed him playfully and spun him around so his back was to the fire. "Okay Andreas. I did make a promise.' She said and stepped back away from the bowl and arced her back so he could admire her curves.

Then she kicked him hard in the chest with a fast booted spin that pushed Andreas backward and into the flaming bowl. He screamed in outraged surprise and then the flames shot high, to the roof as he fell into the fire.
Rain stepped up and looked down into the bowl. "Hmm. The Major was right. Oh well. Time to get more volunteers."

As soon as they landed, McGuiness joined his fellow Ye Olders in gathering together their chutes and other gear. But he always kept his eyes on their surroundings.

He considered standing guard to be his duty. He was the sniper, not the commanding officer, not the doc, not the spook expert and not a demolitions man. Keeping his eyes open is what he did. So while the others finished the last bit of unpacking and dealing with the gear he wandered the edge of their landing zone, looking for anything, or anyone, of interest.

What he found were some tire tracks. They looked new to his eye, but he called over the others and Rat confirmed his diagnosis. Perhaps they weren't far behind the coven. Time to catch up with the bad guys. Or bad gals. Whatever they were, if they were aligned with Hitler, they were bad.

As Corban waited for the captain to issue the order to move out, he continued to closely watch their surroundings. Time to move out . . .

Star took her place on the plane, stowing her gear around her. She never minded flighting but sometimes she wished the plain's weren't so striped down and filled with ripe fumes. hopefully they wouldn't be to high from the cargo when they finally had to jump.

Star's feet touched the ground an slid shifting in the sand. silently cursing she twisted the ropes of her shoot an quickly pulled in down an wrapped it as they'd been trained. Looking around to see how the others faired in the dark always seemed humours to star.

finding the others they divide the extra supplies.
Star took the pump action, an loading several shells. star smiled sheepishly. "just in case.."

(if needed) star devised a quick rucksack out of her shoot wrapping an tying the folds an fabric.

It was a long six hour flight in a noisy and cramped space. The converted C-47 Dakota crammed every spare inch with fuel storage to enable the plane to make the round trip. The smell of the high octane petrol was just next to nauseating. Wearing a full pack and chute basically Doc couldn't move, so he made the best of it kept cat napping through the flight. When the jump master crawled over the installations to make his way to the door the jostling woke Jake. The time it took the jump master to prepare the supply chute and check the static line allowed Doc to wake.
As they approached the target the team stood and hocked up. Doc had made arrangements with Captain to be last man out. This gave him the chance to watch where and how each member landed. Experience taught him he tell if someone landed hard and needed him. The supply chute usually came after him and he get to it quickly too.

The pilot gave the green light and the jump master started ushering the team out the door. When Doc's turn came he paused in the door remembering members no longer with them, before jumping out Doc touched the Red Dragon patch of Team YeOlde as his silent salute.

The sand gave more under his boots than hard dirt would, but a bend of the knees made for smooth landing. Quickly burying the chute Doc made his way the supply chute. The chute had collapsed nicely and he didn't have to chase it down. Detaching the bundle he rolled it open and checked everything. As the team arrived he passed out the ammo and supplies. Star stepped up and he handed her the pump action shotgun.

Taking the double barrel he opened the action the slid in a salt shell into each barrel, snapped it closed and slid it securely through straps of his pack. With everything secure and stowed the team followed McGuiness made their way toward their assignment.

As you board the plane you realize there is not a lot of room to sit as the cargo bay is rigged with fuel tanks and a snakepit of hoses running from them. A guy in a flight suit gives you a hand with coming on board and the supply container says, "Sorry about the tight fit there mates. We got to spend 12 hours in the air for this mission, give or take so we needed to take on extra fuel." He sniffs the gasoline scented air, "I would recommend no smoking on this flight. Sorry chums but I'd rather not risk the possibility if you caught my meaning. Hope no one is shooting at us along the way because we might just blow up like a roman candle on November 5th. Cheerio then."
Rex 'Rat' Miller smirked as he pulled out a Lucky Strike from his pocket and stuck it in his mouth, looking at each member of Team Ye' Olde with his familiar mischievous grin, knowing how unsettling it was for the others, trying to guess if Rat would light one up and in turn light them all up?

He seemed to have an endless supply of cigarettes, American was his preference, with Chesterfields his main smoke for leisure times.

Rat had a habit of sucking on a Lucky Strike, especially when flying to a new mission drop site.

Since this was a desert destination, the Corporal seemed to have an endless supply of Camel cigarettes packed for this particular mission, along with plenty of the Dunhill Brit brand that he smoked from time to time as a courtesy to his British Allies.

Rat had managed to find plenty of wooden tent stakes and a generous extra supply of salt pills to carry with him, before boarding the plane. Not to mention the Torch (Flashlight) as the Brits called it, along with as much extra ammo that he could manage with the rest of his personal gear that was secreted inside the supply crate.

He stared at his photograph of Betty Grable in a swim suit, when he was not reading the Psalm 91 Scripture torn from a Bible, that had been given to him by his consort, the Lady Pamela, who had made him promise to carry the torn page with him, also making him promise to read it as often as possible for his safety, as well as for her own peace of mind.

Besides, it helped him to sleep in relative peace during the uneventful flight, since Rat refrained from speaking to the others, choosing rather to prepare himself mentally and spiritually for the mission.

[Time Jump]
There is no one around for as far as the eye can see but there is a wisp of smoke coming from the east - the direction of the site.

Corban is the first on to find the tracks in the sand about a quarter mile from your landing site. A truck, and one that passed by recently - probably an hour or two, Rat puts forth based on the track and how little they have erodes in the sand and light wind.

Nothing to do but follow the tracks and see if they were going your way.
Rat pulled out a Camel, lit it, enjoying a few deep drags, before examining the tracks that Corban had found, after gathering their gear and disposing of their chutes.

"Looks like a truck passed this way, about an hour or two ago, judging from the depth of the sand, that seems to be undisturbed by the light wind blowing across this God forsaken waste land. Cap, you got any marching orders?"

Rat had refrained from commenting about the wisp of smoke he had seen on the horizon upon landing in the sand, choosing rather to gather his gear and silently make his way towards their target site.

He paused long enough to light up another Camel, his back towards the horizon, awaiting further orders from Captain Luke Edintore.