Infantry Camp 2015 (IC, Open, Human, MT)

[Vangaziland]

Here: viewtopic.php?f=23&t=345255

Task: To build kinship with infantrymen from around the world.

Condition: Several ranges on a Vannish Army base, Vannish logistics and an international cadre of infantrymen from officers and NCOs to team leaders and RTOs on a squad level.

Standard: Conduct a 5 day mission starting with basic marksmanship and culminating in a platoon live fire exercise.

Greetings,

Infantry Camp 2015 is my personal brainchild for a way to build camaraderie between the world's infantrymen. As we know, exercises like this end up in memories. Memories end up as stories. Stories help influence opinion. We need to build a sense of unity today more than ever.

At the same time, Infantry Camp will be a great way for us to celebrate the infantry from the weaponry and tactics to barracks life.

Allow us to welcome you to Vangaziland's largest training center, Fort Emerazi. These are some of our best ranges, surrounded by the local taiga's forests and meadows. Ride in Vannish MOWAG APCs through mock-up towns as part of an international platoon. Experience the Vangazi cuisine in MRE and Mermite form.

I hope you will sign up for the course, and perhaps even run part of it.

Harold Vanerrsen
Command Sergeant Major
Army Of Vangaziland

Schedule

1st Half = 0900 hours-1300 hours.
2nd Half 1300-1700 hours

[b]Day Zero
1st Half - Inprocessing
2nd Half - Kit Inspection

Day One
1st Half - Squad Time
2nd Half - 300m pop-up target course

Day Two
1st Half - Heavy Weapons Familiarization
2nd Half - Squad Time

Day Three
1st Half - Driver's Course
2nd Half - Field Artillery Course

Day Four
1st Half - Squad Time
2nd Half - Room Clearing & Urban Operations

Day Five
First Half - Blank Fire Exercise
Second Half - Live Fire Exercise

Day Six
Egress[/b]

[Vangaziland]

Day Zero
1100 hours

Fort Emerazi was a sprawling facility, home to the Headquarters of the 11th Infantry Brigade. This exercise would be taking part in a rural section of the base known as 'The Ranges'.

The infantry teams would be brought in from the town's regional airport by bus... There were a few convoys of large, private chartered almost luxurious buses. It was supposed to help give the guys a nice welcome, since it was above the standard of typical infantry life, which usually included school bus level transit.

The buildings along the side of the road look new near the entrance to the base. The bus passes through a decent amount of civilian traffic. Every once in awhile, a MOWAG Eagle passes the bus, military units on duty ferrying this or that.

After passing through midday traffic, the buses make their way past some small ranges as the traffic begins to thin and buildings become replaced more and more by trees and large, green late-spring fields. The sounds of M4s or sometimes heavy weapons sound off along the roads that lead deeper into the woods.

The real ranges were located out in the forest about a twenty minute drive away from the populated garrison area. This was the area the Vannish soldiers called 'The Field'. There were several sets of barracks. Units would be assigned their own building in Complex 10600 for this exercise.

It was tucked off from a road lined with pine trees, a set of one story open barracks rooms marked by a sign leading off of the road. Each small building had room for a platoon, about 50 bunks. So since each squad would be assigned their own hut, they would have plenty of extra space. Again, this was a luxury for infantry life. All the bunks were still in the room, but soldiers would spread out and sometimes claim 2 bunks if they had enough clout.

Along the bare walls of the bunkbed lined rooms were printed and taped signs mentioning the first formation time 1600 hours. There was going to be a kit inspection. The Vannish weren't going around judging kits or anything. They just had to check with each of the squad leaders that every soldier was ready to go.

Nobody had any ammunition at this point, but soldiers did have their empty magazines and other issued combat gear.

The one thing they didn't bring with them were their vehicles. They would be using Vannish transport for the next few days, MOWAGs. There were the Eagles, 4X4s which ferried soldiers on detail to and from the garrison area. There were the Eagle 6x6 gun trucks, which had brought breakfast chow in the morning for the earliest arrival of soldiers and was currently making the left turn at the sign for Complex 10600 with lunch.

A central building, surrounded by the barracks in a U shape was a large classroom with very simple desks and a rolling, stand-up white board.

Behind the U-shape of barracks around the classroom, there was a large rectangular shaped chow hall. There was a kitchen in a closed off section that wasn't opened yet, at 'Day Zero' where three meals would be prepared by Vannish Army cooks from 256th BSB, the support battalion. Again, simplicity was the key word as far as the food was concerned.

A decent amount of funding was allocated to the food here, so everything was of pretty good quality. There were also rows and rows of sports drinks and energy drinks soldiers could take back to their barracks. Later on, they'll be able to load up their trucks with drinks in large coolers.

A large gravel parking spot was behind the chow hall, most vehicles parked on the far side of the lot so the fumes never reached the hall, but the vehicles were in sight. So far, just a 6x6 Eagle parked in the lot. It was being unloaded by Vannish enlisted carrying containers of chow into the dining facility and setting it up. Buses would be arriving throughout the day.

The guys unloading the truck were from the 1-93, the Vannish squad working with the international squads. So far, the week had been full of details, getting the area ready for the course... Ranges and the like take a lot of setup.

Now lunch is set up, soldiers are starting to eat. A runner is going around to units that have already arrived letting them know that lunch was ready. A lot more buses are still scheduled to arrive, making things just a little late but still manageable.

[New Hayesalia]

FORT EMERAZI, VANGAZILAND

The New Hayesalian Air Force C-130J, painted in the sharp ferris camouflage common to most aircraft of the NH MIlitary, touched down with a solid thump on the runway of the regional airport. In the back of the craft, men and women of the New Hayesalian Marines Danburnight Battalion, named for the ship they usually served upon, had been chosen to participate in this impressive training regimen here in Vangaziland.

The Combat Shooting Team, formed of 10 participating members under the command of an observer- Marine Captain Oliver Harnade- was built of normal Marines from one of the best regular Marine Battalions, picked for their excellence in the trade. The Marines had brought everything they would need- ammunition, ordnance and equipment for the activities planned- now being handled by loadmasters of the New Hayesalian Air Force.

The Marines began to deplane. Dressed in temperate woodland F.E.A.R. camouflage Wraith fatigues, they seemed an imposing sight. With sepia brown berets distinguishing them as New Hayesalian Marines, the Marine Crest bright against the drab background, their confidence radiated and more than a few of the local ground crew found themselves taking a moment to check out the New Hayesalian ensemble.

The New Hayesalian Marines didn't come unequipped either. The Vangazilan Military had provided a small bus for the Marines, but they had also sent in a six-ton truck for their gear- two duffel bags and a field bag for each Marine, plus three weapons crates, plus three crates for the SLADAR disposable rocket launchers, plus additional field gear consumables and things that could be given to other participants- little souvenirs with a military flavour.

The New Hayesalians weren't bringing amateur kit. Explosives, munitions, body armour and the advanced soldier strengthening suit, plus advanced helmets and electronics were part and parcel of the New Hayesalian standard infantryman. The Marines, despite a touch of jetlag, clambered into the back of the bus without hesitation. There had been little contact with the Vangaziladese military before now, but they were said to be a professional bunch. The Marines loved professionals.

The Marines themselves were a variety. Led by Marine Captain Harnade, a smooth and professional soldier although he was only around to observe and report. The real leader was Marine Chief Corporal (equivalent to a buck Sergeant) Fred Inver, the squad leader. Like most except the newest recruits to the Marines, he was a former member of the New Hayesalian Army until the establishment of the Marines as an independent force in 2012. Some, like the amateur bodybuilder and intense Marine Emily Terxas, were transferred from the Navy. But all shared the classic thoughts that the Marines were better fighters than both of those two units put together.

Moving deeper into the wooded areas, the Marines were informed by the Vannish driver that the kit inspection was taking place. The Marines had double and triple checked their gear before getting onto the Herc, and were confident that they would prove their gear was in check. The barracks were crawling with Vannish personnel already- but in the principle of gears before beers, the Marines had to get their crates off the truck and get their sleeping gear set up. More used to the bunks aboard the Navy's various ships, the Marines saw this as pretty luxe accomodation. In the 50 bed hall, each marine took a bottom bunk with their gear on the top, and began putting their own gear away in the back of the hut.

By midday the job had been done. The Marines readjusted their uniforms before headed to their rank's respective mess hall, preparing themselves for the Vannish style of cooking. Although, the rows of energy drinks made for precious bounty to be plundered by the thirsty New Hayesalians.

[Vangaziland]

The last Vannish soldier sat down at the table, finished with the last few runner details. The table was full of several conversations. You had Gallosen, Frederix, Olson, and Ebberson sitting together. They made up alpha team, the first half of the squad. At the moment, they were sitting near each other, conversing about sports.

CPL Gallosen and SPC Frederix were from the same small town and were a few years apart in high school. They were the team's riflemen. Each was assigned an M4 carbine with an ACOG. These two were a good team, seeming to interact by thought. At the moment, they were on the same side of a sports argument against Olson, the team's Gunner.

SPC Olson was a man of 6'2 with a stocky frame. Running was his weakness, but he was good at his job. The weight of the machine gun and ammo never seemed to slog the big guy down. Luckily, he nor any other soldiers had to watch their weapons right now. They were locked in a cage and watched by a member of Bravo team right now.

Ebberson, the 203 grenadier was the squad's joker. He was loud and always had something to say. Right now he was cracking jokes on Gallosen and Frederix's favorite lacrosse team. Gallosen carried a scowl and a harsh tone in retort. He took lacrosse seriously.

Bravo team was eating quickly and quietly. They had a guard shift coming up at the AHA where all the ammunition was kept. Ammunition was not to be brought onto the barracks area. Unless it was on a truck dropping off soldiers quickly.

The two riflemen on B-team were CPL Winters and PFC Hammen. The corporal was constantly training PFC Hammen with quizzes and exercises. Hammen was still learning the ropes. All the team's attention went to helping him learn.

The gunner was SPC Vanley, a quiet introvert, with a high IQ. Reading was one of his hobbies.

SPC Henley wasn't at the table, instead on guard duty at the Vannish barracks room. He was the grenadier for B-team.

The Squad leader was SSG Tomsson. Right now he was just listening to the sports conversation and occasionally shaking his head at Ebberson's loud jokes.

Tomsson was from the capital city, Emeros. He's been in for about 7 years and has established a reputation as an even-heeled, reliable warrior. He saw a little action back when the Vannish Army was a part of the IFC. He has his whole military career planned out. This course was just one more resume builder for his file.

Outside of the Dining Facility, a truck pulled up. It was a 6x6 Eagle V gun truck, covered in woodland camo paint. It pulled up, waiting to take bravo team to the AHA.

[New Hayesalia]

The Marines lined up to get a hold of the Vannish 'delights' served in the form of fresh fruits, power bars, warm soups and hot meals. In the coolness of the Vannish countryside, these little luxuries were likely needed to maintain morale. The New Hayesalians moved over to two tables next to a Vannish squad, where a few soldiers were in intense debates. The Marine Captain had been pulled aside to a quick meeting, leaving his troops to enjoy their lunch before the kit inspection.

As the Marines tucked in, the Vannish were noticing their international compatriots. A few were looking at the olive green patcheson the Marines arms. The New Hayesalian flag was obvious to most, but more specifics ont he team weren't known.

The Marine team had ten members. Split into two teams- the Attack and Weapons teams- they brought a huge amount of firepower in the early stages of any war. The two females on the team had sat across from each other, personailities suited well to each other- in fact, they had shared half-sections in basic training and in Marine Infantry training, only to both be posted aboard the NHS Danburnight. Physically, they were quite the opposite. While the teams first grenadier, Marine Tina Harshop, was an accomplished distance runner, even holding the Marine Basic Training record for the fastest 2.4km run, she had nowhere near the brute strength of Marine Emily Terxas. An amateur- a loosely used phrase- powerlifter, Terxas had won armwrestling matches against just about every NCO at training and against every member of the NHS Danburnight. It wasn't uncommon for her to practice with 180kg bench presses, and it was no wonder she was the team's rocketman, armed with six lightweight SLADAR antitank launchers.

To the left of Terxas, Marines Proficient Joseph Guiles and Yeshua Abed, a rifleman and gunner respectively, were comparing rather scientifically the attractiveness of a somewhat obscure New Hayesalian singer to an Allanean actress, although the two rascals were achieving little progress in convincing each other of their side.

The team's designated marksman and rifleman Marines Chris Killcop and Josh Randox, young lads who were on their way to a Proficiency rating if this trip was successful enough, were discussing the events of the coming week with Marine Chief Corporal Fred Inver, a transfer from the Army- although his hair had not come with him, as he said. Inver was often commented on by members of other squads about his style of leadership- one that seemed quiet but uncaring to outsiders, but known by his troops to be intensely proud of his unit and dedicated to giving his team the best possible go of things. Despite the obvious commendations headed Inver's way if this exchange was successful, he had already decided that it would be only with the support of his troops and only with the entire groups success that he would happily accept them. Failure was not an option, even in this 'friendly match.'

Further down the table, the remainder of the weapons team were engaged in a classic debate- was the Roundshot Air Burst Weapon or the MRAD more equipped to hitting distance targets. Of course, Marine Corporal Raul Silvartes, a first-generation New Hayesalian immigrant by virtue of New Hayesalia's strong anti-slavery program, was leading the discussion. Himself the bearer of the squads Rounshot, designed as an extremely precise grenade launcher- an RPG on steroids, in a way- he was fiercely supportive of his tool. It was his hope that if this exchange was successful, his next posting would be approved for the Slaver's Lament Battalion. Named, like all Marine Battalions for the ship they serve upon, the NHS Slaver's Lament held the responsibility with a number of other vessels to patrol the high seas for human traffickers, putting a stop to the practice.

Of course, the debate wouldn't have been complete without an opposition, provided by the newest Marine, Marine Paul Wippa. 19, although looking more like 15, Wippa had received his Expert Shooter badge in his first ever military shoot at basic training, a rare feat. He had been immediately poached after basic infantry school for sniper qualification training, where his shooting skills were second to none. There were only four marksmanship qualifications in the New Hayesalian Military- Expert Shooter, available to just about all military members with a good shooting hand; Sniper Qualified, for graduates of their service's course; and Expert Sniper, for those with the rare ability to hit just about anything anywhere. Wippa had already achieved all of these, and while he was qualified to become a specialist sniper in one of the Marine's Reconnaissance Companies, for now he was occupying the position of a Sharpshooter in an Infantry Company. The final award was the Champion Shot's Medal. Only four of these medals were awarded in a year- one for the Navy or Marines, one for the Army of Royal Montmarian Guard, one for the Air Force or Netforce and one for the very best shot in the entire Military. That final award was Wippa's target.

The final member of the team was the fast-talking, exceptionally witty and notoriously smartarse Marine Dave Badrad. The teams Ammunition Bearer, carrying additional belt 7.62mm ammunition for the MG and three additional SLADAR launchers, he wasn't blessed with the coolest of jobs but at least it was a job to keep him in shape, he admitted.

He also found himself looking around at the Vannish troopers. They seemed quite a professional group, armed with modern weapons and well trained in their use. Obviously a growing nation- there was obvious quality, and while a lot of resources had been sent to this mission, it was clear that there wasn't the reach available to the New Hayesalians.

Being on the end of the table, Badrad leant over and struck up a conversation with one of the nearby Vannish chaps. With a quick handshake and introduction to one Specialist Ebberson, he started off asking what life in Vangaziland was like, and of course trying to figure out where he should be headed for cheap drinks on the town after the exercise.

[Vangaziland]

"What's Vangaziland like?" SPC Ebberson asked rhetorically. "It's not that bad." He pointed out to his squad who had quieted a bit with this conversation taking over their attention.

"As you can see, we all look alike." In truth, they were all a light goldish-brown. "We're all a mix from a long time ago. Very tolerant place. Lots of tourists." That was code for women, and possibly men for the female soldiers. "There is a little town called Coro around here that's not too bad. But this is like the middle of nowhere for Vangaziland... A town around a base. I'm sure you know the type."

Ebberson was the right person to ask. He liked to talk. The Vannish soldiers wore a form of multicam camo that was less olive drab. They had several uniforms, but this was the standard. The SPC continued in his loud, slightly grainy voice.

"Now the Vannish Army.. It's real simple. Can't go wrong with that. You see we've still got M4s in this day and age. We don't get the funding like the Air Force. Do you know what they fly? F-23s... Not YF-23s... F-23s."

"What is your unit and your country like? I hear you do a lot of patrols at sea doing good work in a good fight." asked SPC Fredrix, somewhat interrupting Ebberson before he said something weird.

The driver of the truck walked in from the rear door. He wore a reflective PT belt over one shoulder. Detail.... Some random PFC from the 93rd. Quickly, he walked to the line and started to get his lunch tray settled.

For now, random platoons from this squad's unit have been working details around the clock. You would think these platoons would be proud to support this international mission. But sometimes they would rather be playing Vannish Army Online.

"Where is the coolest place you've been sent?", piped up SPC Olson from the far corner. Naval-based units travelled a lot more often usually.

[Yukonastan]

Day Zero
1330 Hrs Local

Like a steel cloud, the Yukonastan A400 airlifter descended upon the Vannish airfield with a vengeance. Aboard was half of 3rd Platoon C co, of the prestigious 52nd Mechanized Battalion, along with their their 30 ton IFV affectionately known as "Field F--ker First Class" (dashes optional), still smelling of fresh paint. From the windows, WO I Ernest Smyth saw the C130J Super Hercules belonging to New Hayesalia and nodded, impressed. They'd be facing some stiff competition over the coming week - the best kind of competition.

As the big bird settled into its home for the week, the troops grabbed their duffels and saw the waiting minibus, along with a five-ton truck which was quickly waved off for not being necessary. Their uniforms stood out in their simplicity, yet imposing, yet reassuring. These guys were professionals, and like their New Hayesalian comrades before them, the Yukoni mechanized squad got more than a few looks. A diesel turned over and started rumbling within, and the IFV started to clunk down the ramp, with barely enough space for a driver and commander aboard. Head and shoulders out of the left hatch was Pte Roger Williams, and out of the right the beaming face of Cpl Dane McFarland (known as the Swede) showcased exactly the spirit that the entire unit possessed. Their supplies, namely rifles, rocket launchers, boxes upon boxes of ammunition, field supplies, and protective equipment meant that soldiers couldn't even drop their personal kit in the tracked gun truck.

1420 Hrs Local Since the Yukoni team had arrived too late for a base lunch, they had stopped by a sandwich joint on the way, getting stares from the locals not only for their rugged looks, not only their field dress, but also for the light tank parked across four spots like it was an everyday occurrence. Their sandwiches bought, they hopped back into their bus, diesels turned over, and soon the entire squad set off again at 84km/hr towards the base they'd be spending the week - beautiful Fort Emerazi.

[OOC - Will continue my arrival in a few hours.]

[Yukonastan]

Day Zero
1445 Hrs Local

The small convoy of Yukoni troops and equipment was now at the entrance to Fort Emerazi, and before long, the "F3C" had parked itself on the parking lot by the barracks, before shuddering into silence. Its crew hopped out and took their duffel bags off of the turret, before forming up in front of their IFV. A few minutes later their fellow squadmates joined them and WO I Smyth called them to attention.

"Men. And women." nodding to the two female members of the team, "welcome to Fort Emerati. We are here to win. We are here to prove that the YEF Mechanized is the best there is." People nodded. "With that said, however, I don't want any hostility toward any other teams. Especially not the Hayesalians." More nodding. "We're here to win, but we're also here to learn new ways of doing things, to get a fresh spin on tactics we've drilled for years and years."

Before he went on, he gestured at the light tank cooling down behind his squad. "This is perhaps our greatest advantage, being mech inf. We get a mobile pillbox and a cannon. We can do how much with it?"

The nine soldiers belted out, in unison, "Everything and then some, chief!"

"Good. We're in time to get settled in ahead of the briefing, go make your bunks and stow your gear. Back here at 1530. Dismissed!"

The soldiers took their duffels and ditched them in the barracks assigned to them. Being that these barracks were for fifty men, it was very spacious inside. Guns were locked to bedposts, blankets and sheets were roughly wrapped or dumped on mattresses, and personal effects were stashed in footlockers left for the purpose. Pte Natasha Rogers and Smyth piled into the IFV, started it, and drove it over to the ammunition depot. Once there, Smyth and Natasha told the Vanghazi soldiers how to handle their supplies and what would be stored where. Within a short time, the entire rear bay of the IFV had been cleared, the roof hatches opened, and the machine parked back in front of the barracks - which now flew the Yukonastan flag proudly.

The squad formed up in front of the IFV, and before long, they headed off to meet their fellow competitors.

[The United Remnants of America]

Vannish Army Base, Vangaziland
Remnant 10th Infantry Battalion, 1st Division, 4th Army
Day Zero, 1500 Hours

"Jesus Christ, how much longer?" Corporal Gary Burns managed to say through gasping breaths. They'd been running for nearly an hour straight now, and according to Burns' estimate, they'd run something like eight or so miles.

"Well, The barracks are like a quarter-mile ahead, so, like, couple minutes." The reply came from Sergeant Craig Simmons, Burns' best friend and the team leader. They'd grown up as kids and enlisted together, fought wars together, and currently they were running and sweating together.

Burns managed a groan through his teeth, even though his lungs burned for air and his muscles ached, "Why are we doing this? This is like, twice the length of a normal run? What the fuck's with Hig?"

As if he'd heard the summons, Master Sergeant Jeffery Higgins came up beside the two. Higgins, Simmons, and Burns were the only three " original"members of the 3rd Platoon, having been the only survivors from the platoon during the Remnant-Korean War. Their entire company had been badly devastated, and some companies of the 10th IB had been completely destroyed. Higgins looked sideways at his two comrades, "Bitching about me, eh? You know if you quit talking and kept running, you'd get there quicker."

Burns grimaced while Simmons grinned, but both said nothing, Higgins nodded and picked up his pace, yelling out so the half-dozen soldiers around them, all panting and smelling of sweat as they ran, could hear him, "And... Stop! God job, boys and girl! You just showed to the others around here that Remnants can run harder and longer, and tomorrow, we'll show them we can shoot better, and by the end of this, we'll show 'em that no Remnant takes shit for nobody, oorah?"

As the ten soldiers stumbled and grumbled to a stop, some holding their arms above their heads and wheezing, others bending over to catch their breath, all of them gave a tired-sounding reply, "oorah."

Higgins held a hand to his ear. He was sweating through his uniform, but still kept upright. His insides were dying, but he had to look strong for the rest of the squad, even if he was nearly twice as old as some of these kids. "I'm sorry, boys and girl, I don't think I heard you!"

At the nagging, the other nine soldiers managed to stand straight up. One could see their chests puff momentarily as they inhaled to burst out, "OORAH!

"Thank you! Was that so hard? I want you all to barracks in less than ten for wash up and inspection." With that, Higgins turned on a toe to himself go into the barracks. He actually didn't know if they'd had a barracks to themselves or not, but he was going to find out.

Simmons and Burns, as well as the rest, waited a couple minutes before following their squad leader. Burns and Simmons bumped fists, Simmons speaking, "Y'know, something tells me this is going to suck, these next five days." Burns grunted and nodded, unable to speak at the moment. Simmons kept talking, "I hope we got our own hall. It might be hard to explain to another unit why Alex is bunking with us...." Burns looked up at Simmons and then back behind them at Specialist Alexandra Peterson, the platoon medic who'd accompanied them. She was the only female in the squad here, but in the URA, there were unisex barracks to promote unit cohesion. Due to the way most units worked, including this one, Burns couldn't even look at her as a sexual being, merely a fellow soldier. That perception was aided by the knowledge that cases of sexual assault and harassment in the Remnant Military were usually punishable by decades of imprisonment or death.

Burns finally managed to speak after catching enough of his breath, "Yeah, s'gonna be an intersting week, Craig."

[Tevehas]

'Tevehans Don't Dance'
Day 1 15:00
Sgt. Maxwell 'Nickname' Wilkes
1st Platoon, 5th Tevehan Mechanized
Regional Airport - Vangaziland

A haze of heat followed behind the jet engines of the cargo plane, a Tevehan flag on its tail. As it touched down on the tarmac, it quickly taxied to its landing spot at the airport. The flight crew and cargo technicians quickly began getting to work along with the soldiers brought with it to ratchet loose the coverings and straps holding down the two medium sized vehicles that would be used to deliver the platoon to the base. Two men, dressed in fatigues entered each vehicle and drove them down the ramp of the cargo plane and onto the tarmac. Loading their trunks with ruck sacks, spare gear, and a black case the soldiers made ready to depart as they boarded the vehicles.

Sgt. Wilkes looked out the window as the vehicles began to depart from the airport. He had seen many like it before, various ground crews and vehicles darting to and fro as aircraft landed and lifted off. The only difference was that security wasn't provided by a private contractor. As they neared the gates, the driver of the lead vehicle showed the guard at the gate some documents, and drove onto the road. The global positioning system's monotone voice was the only thing breaking the silence in both vehicles, a mix of culture shock and unfamiliarity keeping the occupants quiet and alert.

[New Hayesalia]

"We work on aircraft carriers a lot so we see a lot of F-22s, the navalised versions, never seen an F-23 though. And the Marines is pretty decent for travel. Especially on big trips we usually get a chance to do some long port visits. Allanea, Yohannes, Quendi, I've been to all those places with the Marines, and I haven't been in so long. New Hayesalia is a good time though, mate. Always something to do, everythings really well connected. You can get from one side of the country to the other without needing your own car, which is good because some places- Quepasa for example- are total shitholes. But then you get the touristy places like fuckin' Oppentin or Montmaray, Hawkreach that sort of place. But a lot of places are a great medium. Basically if you like nature there's nothing better, just about anything you wanna do you can do there. Plus drugs are legal so there's a fuckton of hippie places dotted through the country. But yeah, anyway."

"But in terms of what we do, the biggest mission of the NH Navy is reducing piracy and mostly slavery. Huge anti-slavery campaign so we have duties in that. But a lot of it is just being ready. World's a tinderbox man, all it takes is a spark and we can be sent anywhere. So anyway," he said, cracking open a Red Bull. "What's on the plan for this arvo?"

[Vangaziland]

SPC Ebberson replied. "Yeah there are a lot of trains here too, even making their way out here in the woods to get to Coro. Our Navy is fighting piracy on three fronts right now. I bet Vangaziland would get involved with your fight if they could. But yeah, it all sounds like the same old infantry stuff. Nice to meet you."

The soldiers started to go around the table introducing themselves, with name and rank.

"Oh your question. Today we're supposed to take over guard duty at the AHA. It's the Ammo Housing Area, where all the heavy weapons and ammo will be stored under guard. They've got a radio out there. Usual guard duty. I heard they might get other squads to pull shifts so we might not have to go."

The squad leader spoke up. "There is a kit inspection at 1600. Just to make sure everyone has everything after their trip. That's it until tomorrow. We have squad time in the morning, so its up to your unit to get things ready, drill, PT or whatever. We have a short hike to the 300m pop up range. It'll be a kit march for just about an hour.... Just to get the mech infantry guys out of their trucks. Then we have a 300m range, just to make sure our weapons are on target."

The truck driver showed up and stood at parade rest for the squad leader, waiting for his attention, but slightly rushing him while he was talking. "What?" asked the SSG.

"Sergeant, we're ready for the detail now." He said to the Vannish SSG. The PFC turned to the New Hayesalians. He was a new soldier and didn't take the time to familiarize himself with the different nations' rank structures. But he recognized the New Hayesalians.

"And your truck has to come too sergeant." He said sergeant in a shaky way to the foreign soldiers. He wasn't sure who was in charge there, but wanted to show respect to their NCOs.

"I guess we have to get to the AHA. Follow the big gun-truck in a few minutes. There we can probably check out some of our heavy weapon systems... We'll even help you guys unload your truck."

[New Hayesalia]

"Chief Corporal, private. Good to hear, cheers." The Marine NCO looked to his troops and told them to wrap it up, and also telling the Vannish soldier that they'd already unloaded their gear. Finishing their food rapidly, pocketing a few powerbars on the way out, the New Hayesalians left the tent with sepia brown berets worn proudly. Taking up the invitation to follow the Vannish troops to check out their heavy weapons, the Marines mounted the back of a gun truck and followed their international comrades along.

[Vangaziland]

In addition to the Eagle 6x6, two DURO IIIP gun trucks had pulled up to ferry soldiers and gear to the AHA and back. These trucks were common in the Vannish Army. They were invaluable for moving equipment in urban theaters.

The .50 cal M2 machine guns mounted to each of the gun trucks were the first heavy weapons on display for the visitors. In truth they were an aging system. But they were reliable. The large mounted optical RWS sights brought a level of accuracy and speed in target acquisition, making the M2 as relevant as ever.

SSG Tomsson was the last Vangazi to leave the chow hall. He turned to face everyone before leaving and announced, "If anyone needs to drop off any heavy weapons ammo, coordinate with the corporal sitting in the corner. He will get guntrucks set up to ferry you to the AHA. Or if you just want to check out some heavy weapons before the kit inspection, you can catch a ride in one of the trucks outside."

With that he turned and headed out to catch up with the truck. He climbed up into the DURO, picking up a helmet. In all of the seats, crewman's vehicle helmets had been placed so that passengers always had a helmet, even if their kit was in their barracks.

The trucks made their way through the woodland road. Time seemed to drag on slowly as the trucks made their way through the windy Vannish forest. Along the way, they passed an occasional range. All was quiet out here though.

The trucks pulled off onto a tank trail; a dusty, dirt road. The trucks pulled off to the left, testing out the suspension with big bumps that rocked the vehicles.

The sound of crunching dirt and constant bumps took over the once smooth and quiet ride. The convoy twisted up a small hill, where a slight washout of the trail the week before caused a rough ride.

The hill leveled out and lead through the woods, into a meadow. The turn off to the AHA was soon afterwards. There was a rifle range here with a big gravel lot that the vehicles were pulling into. The Eagle guntruck and the DURO IIIP pulled up alongside one another.

One by one, the soldiers hopped out of the vehicles.

There were several structures, including a set of covered benches and several shacks. The largest shack was locked and under guard. This was where the Vannish ammo was stored.

"How was the ride?" asked SPC Ebberson to one of the New Hayesalians.

[New Hayesalia]

The team's sharpshooter, Marine Wippas, turned back to the Vannish PFC. "Felt like I was in the back of a Javelin IFV making an amphibious assault. Steady but sickening. You need some windows in these things bro.

The teams disembarked, the New Hayesalians getting out of a few of the gun trucks. The Marine's supplies of SLADAR rocket launchers, Roundshot grenades and other 40mm grenades had been brought along for storage, in mil-spec crates. And anticipating that the Vannish would want a look at the New Hayesalian tools of the trade, they had mounted up with basic webbing and their weapons.

Like the Vannish, they laid out their arms. There were Ripper Mk3 rifles and smaller carbines, some with underbarrel grenade launchers and a variety of scopes. The New Hayesalians also laid out their light and medium machine guns, the M240L and the GD Lightweight MMG; as well as more traditional precision weapons, the HK417 designated marksman rifle and the Barrett MRAD, a heavier field sniper rifle. SLADAR single-shot rocket launchers and a Roundshot airbursting grenade weapon were also on display, made safe of course. The plan was they would go through a short demo of their weapons later, when the Yukons, Americans and Tehevans arrived at the ammo point.


[recommend we speed it up to the kit inspection/demo]

[Vangaziland]

SPC Vanley, Bravo team's introverted gunner, spoke up. "That is an impressive display. Ours is gunna look like crap."

A couple soldiers chuckled. An older sergeant came around from behind the ammo building. "Okay, gentlemen. Put the weapons on the tables there."

The Vannish teams split up and helped each other quickly grab the weapons systems, two per system. Quickly the line laid out the weapons.

Corporal Winters stepped up and quickly started down the short list of Vannish Heavy Weapons. "Okay", he said, pointing. "That's a MK19 grenade launcher. Then another famous M2 Heavy Machine Gun. I think we'll utilize Remote Weapons Systems targeting so it'll be point and click type stuff. After that we have the AT-4 Rocket Launcher. Of course we use the M203s mounted on the grenadier's rifle also but that's not on display."

"We favor indirect fire in our doctrine usually." SPC Ebberson said. "We have a mortar element on the company level. Mech units get 120mm on company level. We also have the Artillery Observers, we call the the Fire Support Team, on the company level. These are mainly just the weapon systems for our vehicles, with the AT-4 filling the role of quick direct fire support."

"We also sometimes use Javelin or LAW anti-tank systems as well", piped up PFC Hammen from the back of the formation.

SSG Tomsson looked down at his watch. "I hate to break this up, but we've got to get ready for this kit thing." The Vannish kits were in the barracks with their weapons under watch. "Hammen, you've got detail. We'll bring you a dinner plate since you'll be out here for a few hours. But at least it gets you out of inspection."

"Roger Sergeant", was the young soldiers response. In many ways he would rather hang out here than stand in his vest for an hour waiting for the inspection. Rumor has it, an officer might speak. That meant the formation would take even longer.

And just as soon as they got there, they started to load back onto the trucks. But it was a good way to break up the day and go for a truck ride.

Once the last truck was loaded up, the radio talk bounced back and forth. Once it was confirmed everyone was aboard, the trucks took off down the dusty Vannish tank trail.

It was a quiet trip back. As the trucks pulled back onto the road, they passed a whitish-bluish fox that scurried across the road as well. It had been hunting mice in the bush.

The big armored trucks rambled down the road, past the ranges and meadows before coming back onto the complex. They came to a stop behind the chow hall in the big gravel lot.

"Home sweet home!" Ebberson's voice was the first thing anyone heard when they got out of the trucks.

The time was now 15:00. They had an hour to get ready. Of course, they would get their stuff right now and form up to be early.

It wasn't going to be a strict inspection. What would happen is there would be a lot of waiting. Some people might speak to the formation. Then they will tell the squad leaders to fall out and check their squads. Basically making sure everyone has everything, besides live ammo. Then they'll line back up and that's it for the day.

Tomorrow was another simple day. They had squad time in the morning, which meant they could prepare last minute stuff or train by themselves. Of course, if squads wanted to work together they could. Then there was a formation in the afternoon, a short road march to the 300 meter pop up target range. Basically, the soldiers would file down a line along a rifle range and shoot pop up silhouette targets from distances ranging from 50m - 300m. Then they'd march back home and that'd be their day.

It was all basic level stuff, muscle memory. The Vannish weren't trying to teach any advanced concepts here. This was just an event to build camaraderie and provide a good photo op.

The running joke was that, since the course was designed to show internationals what life in the Vannish Army was like, that the course was designed to advertise for the Vannish Foreign Legion.

[New Hayesalia]

Unfortunately for the New Hayesalians, they had no excuse to avoid the kit inspection. Locking away their heavy weapons and pyrotechnics, and remounting a gun truck, the ten Marines reported back to barracks to load up in their full Individual Soldier Ensembles. A multi-layered system of long underwear, a Warrior Web strength support unit- a simple exoskeletal design supporting major joints- as well as combat fatigues and load bearing gear.

The fatigues themselves were extremely high tech. NIR-reducing, highly breathable, wear resistant and most importantly comfortable, international soldiers often looked at them with envy. Worn atop that was the Chameleon Mk II Load Bearing Equipment and Body Armour. The New Hayesalians wore body armour suited to the likely weaponry of the enemy- each plate rated to sustain at least one 7.62mm AP round with 60% chance of stopping a second one, to counter sniper threats; although they could withstand multiple non-AP hits. The system is modular, comprising of the main torso and waist sections with options for the arm, leg, groin and neck portions.

The torso and waist sections must be worn as these comprise the Main Load Bearing Equipment sections. The Chameleon BAS is individually fitted to a soldier, using 3D whole body scans allowing the fit to match the soldier's requirements. Of course, great armour meant nothing without a great helmet, and the New Hayesalians had created the CCH - Chameleon Combat Helmet- for this. Made from advanced plastics and very lightweight compared to similar Kevlar products, CCH offers true ballistic protection up to 7.62mm at medium to long range. Again module pieces made the helmet work for most soldiers- with integrated ballistic eye protection from Nomad, integrated electronic sound amplifier with automatic cutoff for noise above 80 DB, integrated NVG mount and lined with shock absorbing gel to lessen impact energy transfer by 40% it was possibly one of the most well-designed helmets in the world. But it was the onboard electronics- a 9LAND battle management system linked to the Chameleon, providing individual soldiers a link to higher command and abilities with personal miniature Harris radios, CBRN detectors, translation and transcription software, identify friend or foe, onboard cameras, navigation alerts, vital signs monitoring and other command warnings and advisories. And all of this, sans the camera, was covered in artificial foliage or spray painted to reduce the chance of spotting the New Hayesalians. Like the Body Armour worn, it was highly modular. While the standard model offers protection to the skull above the upper neck, the ears, and the forehead; additional pieces include the Head Sock for optical and IR concealment, face plate for protection, mandible protectors, night vision goggles and the CBAS Gasmask, providing MOPP 1 when worn and protecting from burns and other such injuries. And of course a subdued New Hayesalian flag was attached with velcro to the left side of every helmet.

And as well, the soldiers carried the traditional gear like IFAKs, ammo, rations and other gear in their integrated webbing and additional field packs. For the sharpshooters, this included lightweight sniper veils; and for the section leaders, Harris radios to communicate with each other and command.

Standing with each other, the Marines were basically indistinguishable except for size and equipment. All wore nearly the same equipment, with the exception of the ammo bearer's heavy pack; the rocketeers pack with six tubes ready to be accessed and fired and the face plate, a pink lipstick mark stenciled on it as a joke; snipers with their veils worn almost like capes; and of course the fact that those soldiers carrying heavy weapons carried carbines, clearly shorter than the full sized ones held by their rifle team comrades.

The New Hayesalians looked mean, digitally connected, futuristic and intense. It was clear to see why the average New Hayesalian infantryman was feared in the fight, but a squad of them was nothing short of horrifying.

[Vangaziland]

The Vannish Squad filed out from their barracks room into the gravel lot behind the chow hall. This would be the best spot for formations, it being a wide open area. The trucks were parked a good distance away in the background. A few random soldiers strolled in and out of the chow hall on the other side of the formation.

There was plenty of space for all the squads.

The Vangazi formed up behind the New Hayesalians. SPC Vanley called out to the squad, "You guys are going to make us look like crap again."

Ebberson was the only one who got the joke and previous reference.

The Vannish went in the opposite direction of Infantry doctrine. They were more in favor of the lightweight, mobile soldier. The most requested piece of infantry gear is the lightweight plate carrier. This was what they wore, small vests made up of webbing that connected several plates, but did not have a lot of extra protection aside from them. There was no neck plate, no 9mm protection. The plates rested high on the chest. Their helmet was the ACH, a lightweight helmet that barely covered the ears.

What it lacked in protection, it made up for with mobility and morale boosts.

It was colored in the same darker version of multicam that the Vannish uniform was. It was less olive and more foliage green to blend in with the Vannish landscape.

There were 2 portable GPS units in the squad, several compasses, a laser rangefinder. They were used to working with maps. Camelbacks were built into their assault packs. They had their first aid kits. NVGs. Multitools.

Team leaders carried a small walkie-talkie, short range radios just for admin communication. Their tactical communications would be done mostly by voice. This meant the Vannish had husky voices from the constant yelling.

The squad leader carried an MBITR tactical radio. This was a secure, larger walkie-talkie that when paired with the right antenna, could reach aircraft.

They each carried an MRE in their assault pack, opened and broken down from the original packaging. They had wet weather gear or other random gear in there as well, gortex that they could throw over the top of their uniform. Gear to stay dry was just as important as any of their other gear.

Besides other random small tools and pieces of gear, the Vannish brought outside snacks, MAXIM Magazines, chewing tobacco, MP3 Players. Of course, all this stuff was hidden for inspection, just in case.

They hadn't been briefed on which night they would be spending out in the field, but when it came, the Vannish would be entertained.

[The United Remnants of America]

Kit Inspection

The Remnant Infantry squad stood to attention in a single, straight line in front of their beds. The barracks hall was rather bare compared to the personalized barracks of the platoon's barracks back home, with posters and memorabilia scattered everywhere, but that was the cost of being in a foreign location.

Sergeants Higgins and Simmons walked slowly down the line in front of their eight comrades. The team's rifles, pistols, and grenades were stored in the footlockers at the ends of the beds. The soldiers themselves, minus the sergeants of course, were down to their skivvies, which included grey boxer-briefs. In the case of Specialist Peterson, she also wore a grey sports bra. The uniforms of the troops were laid out neatly on their cots. For this trip, the team had taken their "standard," or urban camoflauge kits, meaning their flat grey-blue pants and shirt were on the bottom of the stack, with a pair of black gripped boots sitting cleaned in front of them. The boots would've been polished, but they weren't smooth enough to polish, rather being rough and bumpy in order to disrupt glints of reflected light. On top of the grey-blue clothing was the armor, which was a more cement-grey appearance and included shin guards, kneepads, thigh covers, lightly armored gloves, gauntlets and an intricate shoulderpad rig that was attached to the chest and back plates. On top of this gear, there was an optional jacket, but that hadn't been brought for this trip, so the troops had a "riot police" look when they were geared up.

A holster-belt was also there, known as the "crotch strap," to the troops for the loops that wrap around the upper thighs. There were a set of large dark grey pouches lined across the belt for various equipment. Finally, a backpack was the last of the standard pack, which was filled with rations, a bedroll, a survival kit, personal items, and any extra gear needed. For Specialist Peterson, she also had a medical kit that hung on top of from under the standard backpack. For radio operator Corporal Washburne, he carried a tactical satellite phone in a chest rig pocket.

Finally, a helmet was the last essential item of gear, a grey vented helmet, lined on the inside with a from-fitting cushion for comfortability and layered with the latest bulletproof material. A chin-strap held the helmet on, and a boom mike wrapped around with the chin strap to be able to speak into it. This meant that the helmet held within it's layered armor was lined with several electronic systems. The communications, the IFF chip, the GPS locator, and an augmented reality system was all added into it. The final piece to the helmet was a drop-down visor that covered and protected the eyes while working as the visual component of the augmented reality system. Alternatively, the visor can be replaced with a pair of sunglasses or a pair of goggles that are combined within a breathable O2 mask. Though, for everyone present, the visor was what was used, since the sunglasses and O2 mask/goggle systems were too expensive for grunts. There were also sometimes cameras installed within the helmets, however for this training mission, they'd been removed.

Master Sergeant Higgins nodded appreciatively as he looked over the troops and their equipment. He smiled as he passed each soldier and noticed their dogtags or shoulder tattoo, or both. The reaosn behind the tattoo was an optional choice if a soldier thought himself too forgetful to keep the dogtags or just as a simple fashion choice. It was more popular among veteran soldiers where the idea was that dogtags could be blown off a corpse, so it was expected that over half the soldiers present here had their name, rank, blood type, and ID number. Due to the rank being on the tattoo, promotions could be a painful process.

Simmons and Higgins stood in the center of the lineup while Simmons leaned in to speak quietly to Higgins, "They're good I think. I just think we packed light for this."

Higgins shrugged and replied, "Not really. It's just a training mission, so we don't necessarily need all of our equipment here. And since we're not the entire platoon, we don't get the perks of some of the specialist soldiers." He looked to his left and right at the troops, "Good job, boys and girl. You're as always prepared, but what do we say?"

As one, the eight soldiers replied loudly, with Simmons speakng it quietly, "No combat-ready unit passes inspection. No inspection-ready unit passes combat. Sir."

Higgins chuckled quietly and nooded, "Good job, troops. We'll show 'em what a Remnant Infantry looks like, won't we?"

"Sir, yes, sir!"

[Military Democracy of Birtonia]

Fort Emerazi
Sergeant-At-Arms Andrew Beyard

A lone soldier stepped out from another barracks building and stood at the position of attention in front of an area of gravel. He was clad in all black fatigues, his armor and other gear were black as well. He carried with him his AR-14 assault rifle, standard issue for soldiers of the Birtonian Ground Defense Force.

In a few moments ten other soldiers, all clad in the same style ran out of the same barracks in a single line, which split into two lines as they exited the building. They assumed a small formation in front of the other soldier, about ten paces away from him. Each man made sure the distance between the man to his front, left, right, and if applicable rear, were all equal. For a light infantry unit, the Birtonians were rather heavy, they had thick armor plating augmented by soft ballistic armor underneath, side plates guarded their internal organs. The vests were equipped with shoulder paldrons, crotch protectors, neck and throat protectors, and lower back protectors. These all were equipped with the same soft armor, rated for 5.56mm and high degrees of shrapnel protection.

The squad and team leaders were all equipped with compasses and maps, while the squad leader and RTO carried GPS systems in their assault packs as well.

Each man carrying a rifle had a standard load of eight thirty round magazines on his kit with one more in his weapon. Automatic riflemen carried minimum of four ammo drums, with an additional in the weapon, to a total of five.

Their assault bags and rucksacks were not present, save for the Radio-Telephone Operator, he carried his man portable radio along with a whip antenna, secured within a special assault pack built to accommodate communications equipment.

"At ease" commanded Andrew.

"Inspect your men, then report to me for inspection." he again commanded the team leaders. He relaxed as well and put his hands behind his back, he looked around and eyed the other units conducting their own inspections.

[Vangaziland]

The pre-inspections were a storied military tradition. There was always check, after check, after check. But now, an Army officer made his way to the front of the formation. He was Captain Horris, Commanding Officer of the Vannish Infantry Unit running this exercise.

All the units had made their way onto the grounds and were together in a U-shaped formation with all the squads facing the center, where Captain Horris now stood.

"Group, atten-tion!" The squads snapped to attention.

The Vannish Captain was about 5'8". He was a slightly nerdy looking older man, with military-style, black-framed glasses.

"Squad leaders, conduct squad checks."

The squad leaders moved from the far right spot on their formations and ritualistically walked down their rows. They looked over the soldiers uniforms but everything would be found in place, obviously. After a few minutes the squad leaders fell back into their positions.

"Parade... Rest!" The squad snapped to position again. Now the Captain loosened up. "Alright Soldiers... Marines.. Welcome to Infantry Camp 2015! I look out and can only be impressed with what I see. You are all credits to your nation. Remember, in many ways the world is watching. Literally, as we will have journalists come through a few times. Everything we do here will be simple stuff you've done a thousand times before. Reach out to each other and make the most of this time. Get good training out of it and hopefully make new contacts."

The Captain looked at his watch.

"Okay, we'll keep this short. Group, attent-tion!" There was a slight pause as the squads snapped to position again. "On the command to fall out, you are released to your squad leaders. We'll see you tomorrow at 1300 before the road march to the rifle range."

There was another pause.

"Fall out!"

The squads were now released for the day. The soldiers stayed in formation, waiting for their squad leaders to tell them what to do next. Everything planned was done for the day. If soldiers wanted, they could leave town. There were even maps that led to a specific pub in town. 'The Red Sun' was a local establishment that had lots of cheap drinks. Its name referred to the red sun on the Vannish Flag. It was a military bar, but a cool one.

There was talk of getting trucks set to convoy soldiers to the base PX store so they could buy things they need that they 'forgot'. Like smokes, sunflower seeds and beef jerky. Or magazines, mp3/video players or cameras.

The Vannish base was basically open to these individuals.

[Military Democracy of Birtonia]

Fort Emerazi
Sergeant-At-Arms Andrew Beyard

"Fall out!" echoed the voice of the Vannish Captain as he dismissed the formation. The Birtonians still stood perfectly at attention waiting for the officer to leave the formation, once he did an about face, Andrew was able to move to the front of his formation again.

"At ease boys" he ordered, "So here's the skinny, you are all authorized leave for tonight, the local town is a military town so they know how to take care of us. In addition there are Vannish trucks transporting us all over the base and surrounding areas. I'll remind you all that you are here representing the BGDF as a whole as well as our country. Now, by all means, slam some brews, bang some hoes, meet new people, but for god's sake, if I have to bail you out of a Vannish prison cell, your military career will be over so goddamn fast you won't know what the fuck just hit you." he finished.

"Next hit time is tomorrow morning at 0730, full kit" he added.

"Squad, atten-TION!" the men snapped back to the position.

"Fall out!" he commanded one last time, each man took one step backwards and moved away from the gravel area. They all went to ground most of their gear and change into dress uniforms, keeping their USP 10 pistol on them however. Some were going to the post exchange, while others made plans to hit the bars around time, one or two decided to stay in and eat at the chow hall and call it an easy night.

Andrew stayed in the gravel area, lighting a cigarette. It was a rather bitter tasting smoke, a little stale as well, but he expected that, this was an old pack from the Yarmalan campaign that he forgot in his trousers. He inhaled again as he waited for the Remnant formation to disperse. He wanted to meet them, after hearing so much about them and their operations with the Rangers on Task Force Atlas.

[Vangaziland]

"Come on man, let me get a smoke." SPC Ebberson's voice echoed through the complex.

Ebberson and Vanley had been making their way from their barracks to the little shack that comprised the smoking area. There were two benches facing each other. It was quite the social place.

"I just gave you a cigarette. Relax, bro." SPC Vanley replied one way but reached into his pack and passed Ebberson a smoke anyway. They were an odd pair that had grown to become almost friends. The problem was they argued all the time. Except it wasn't really arguing, it was Vanley's style of humor. Ebberson was all to happy to play into it, maybe for the free cigarettes.

The Vangazi had dropped off their kits and were still in their fatigues. Their teammates were busy changing into the 1 pair of civilian clothes that they had room to bring. But the Vannish soldiers weren't in a rush to see the same small town that they lived in. It was just as easy to hang around the pad and see what was going on.

Ebberson noticed the Birtonian first. "Hey man, how's it going?"

[Military Democracy of Birtonia]

Sergeant-At-Arms Andrew Beyard

Beyard was still in full kit, but that didn't bother him because the weather was unbelievably bearable. He continued to wait around the smoke shack for the Remnants to disperse their formation. He was only halfway through his smoke so it didn't bother him too bad that they weren't done. He eyed a few of his men walking out of the barracks in their dress uniforms, no doubt to attract the Vannish women that they heard before they shipped out over here.

A pair of soldiers walked up to the smoke shack and nonchalantly greeted him. He turned around and glanced at the two, they were Vannish soldiers, still in their uniform.

"It's going well Specialist." Andrew said as he noted the younger soldiers rank. He made it a point to study Vannish ranks before attending this training in their own country. "Just waiting for the Remnants to disband. You see the female over there? I think I'm going to do some public relations for Birtonia while I'm here."

[New Hayesalia]

The New Hayesalians weren't as snappy, nor did they want to be. The team broke off easily as the Vannish captain fell them out. Marine Chief Corporal Inver took all their attention for a moment- "This kit, formed here, 0730. Don't forget your jack rats. Weapons section will get heavy kit and attack section will start loading mags after that. You're all on EKO. Cut away, team but remember, 0 blood alcohol before a shoot." New Hayesalian orders weren't strict or overly complicated- wear this and be here by this time, do what you want until then. The Marines here were proven to be competent operators, part of the reason the Chief Corporal had no worries about letting them out on the town, and they were easily able to adjust their behaviour to the situation at hand.

The Marines slung their weapons and removed helmets, pulling down their Head Socks. How interesting that they just looked like normal people without them, but a uniformed killing force without. Psychological warfare had many forms, perhaps.

As the Marines broke off into little groups, Marine Wippa folded the stock of his MRADand slinging it. The 19 year old was a confident man, walking with a sniper's confidence. He found himself with the designated marksman, Marine Chris Killcop. While he often made fun of Killcop's HK417 as a pea shooter, and Killcop criticised his MRAD as a replacement cock, the pair of marksmen were thick as thieves.

"So Chrissy boy, what you reckon?" Wippa began, kicking his mate's boot.

"I know exactly what you're thinking." he replied, the curve of a smirk wrinkling his face.

"Oh yeah? What's that?"

"You see that URA chick don't you. Of course you do, you've been staring for the last fifteen minutes. Could've at least waited for her to put her shirt back on."

"Fuck off, can't have been that obvious."

"Not to many other people. But you see that Birtonian sergeant over there with the fag?"

Wippa looked over, eyeing up the Birtonian. He, like his men, was kitted out, but it seemed to be more of a Vannish style than New Hayesalian.

"Not a fucking chance I'm letting that happen." Wippa said, immediately. He hit his friend on the shoulder, a signal of 'she's mine.' Without a second thought, the perhaps over confident Marine approached the URA medic, a Specialist, fully kitted out. She outranked him, a lowly E-1 compared to her E-4, but with the knowledge that the URA had about 13 enlisted ranks to the New Hayesalian Marine's six, he felt confident.

Peterson was actually quite attractive- pale and very clear skin, and blonde, a strong jaw framing a pretty face. She, like the rest of the URA, had a rig closer to the NH sode of things, with advanced helmets and durable load bearing gear. Most probably, their armour was heavier to stop 7.62 rounds like the New Hayesalians.

"I gotta say, Specialist," Wippas said, rather smoothly- and correctly guessing her rank- "The dog tags tattoo is a pretty interesting idea, but you're the only one here that's actually rocking it well."