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[Ontorisa]

BROTHERS IN ARMS
A Realistic Military RP By Ontorisa. Sponsored By The Pub: P2TM RP Group
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Theme Song

“In war, there are no unwounded soldiers.” - José Narosky

---

Near Sarajevo
Bosnia and Herzegovina
0700 Hours [Local Time]
2nd Lieutenant Ajdin Jusic

27-year old 2nd Lieutenant Ajdin Jusic sighed as he adjusted his camouflaged field cap on top of his head. His platoon had been sitting in their defensive positions for almost forty-five minutes and still there was no sign of the Serbs. He turned, keeping his hand close to his M4A2 as he surveyed his men. His platoon was meant to be more of a warning to Sarajevo, as the capital's defences had not bee fully prepared. As well, their American reinforcements still had not arrived yet. Sarajevo needed whatever the Americans were going to send, and the city needed it soon.

"Lieutenant!" One of Jusic's men called out. "How long do we have to sit here?"

"Until Sarajevo is ready!" Jusic called back as one of his men in the trenches got up and stood next to him.

"But sir, there's no one coming." The soldier chuckled before motioning to the deserted paved road they were guarding. "It's a ghost town out here."

"Cut the chatter, I'll check with Sarajevo." Jusic nodded to the soldier before he turned and began walking over to his radio.

Then he heard a loud snap as Jusic wheeled about to see the man he had just been speaking with, collapse in a heap as gunfire erupted. The Bosnian soldiers were caught completely off guard as small-arms fire crackled about from the tree-lines the Bosnians had been watching just a second ago.

"Contact front! Engage!" Jusic shouted before ducking behind cover and checking his M4A2.

He lifted his carbine and fired in semi-automatic bursts at the treeline where the Serbians were firing from. His soldiers were scattering about, searching for cover in order to return fire. He could already see it, a few of the Bosnian soldiers lied dead, blood pooling from their wounds as their bodies laid in mangled clumps.

"Contacts bearing 282 degrees! Focus fire!" A Bosnian soldier screamed as they returned fire, the indistinguishable sound of M16 Rifle and M4 Carbine fire snapping back.

Jusic shifted, getting out from behind a giant rock and moved to his right, past a dead Bosnian, towards a stack of crates where one soldier lied, looking over a few times and popping off a few rounds. He looked over as Jusic slid in, huffing.

"Sir!" A hail of bullets raked their position. "Respectfully, what the fuck do we do?"

"We have hostiles pinning us down from treeline, not giving us any breathing room." Jusic gasped for air as he shifted once again. "We have to coordinate our fire on one of the positions of the men before we ca-"

He heard it before he saw it. Jusic heard the rolling of tracks, the roar of a diesel engine as he looked around the boxes to see a T-70 Main Battle Tank, pristine and ready to fire. Men screamed as the T-70 fired into, what Jusic thought was a cluster of them. They appeared to have evaporated into a dark red mist as the cover they had once used was now gone, along with the Bosnian Soldiers.

"Come out Bosnian bitch!" Someone called out, as gunfire broke out again, this time, it was weaker as Jusic could only assume the Bosnians were small in number now. "Show us what you bleed!"

Jusic bent over and fired out at the Serbs, who had moved up at a phenomenal rate. One of the men doubled over and landed face first as the other Serbian soldiers dropped down into a prone position and returned fire. Ducking back into cover, Jusic looked over at the Bosnian soldier with him.

"Shit." The Bosnian growled as he heard the gunfire rake their cover. "I'll go left, you fire from right?"

"That's the plan." Jusic ducked out again and put down effective fire on the Serbians' last known position before he dropped back into cover.

He looked over at the Bosnian soldier, who was still peaking out. Jusic tapped him, and noticed the man dropped over, a splatter of blood being heard as the man hit the ground.

Fuck. Jusic thought to himself. Fucking damnit.

A few more bursts of M21 Assault Rifle fire and M16 fire before it died down. Jusic puffed out his cheeks before he reloaded his rifle, his hands shaking uncontrollably. Footsteps could be heard. The magazine slid into the M4A2.

"Oh look! A survivor!" A Serbian shouted before he fired at a dying Bosnian soldier.

The agonizing scream could be heard as multiple shots were fired. Jusic looked out again and aimed down his sights before firing at the nearest Serbian soldier, dropping him before shifting and firing at another. The Serbian dropped, howling in pain and clutching his knee as Jusic continued to fire at the Serbians, sending them diving for cover.

He didn't last long as rounds flew his way. One, taking his throat and his breath away. Sitting backwards, Jusic choked on his own blood, as he grabbed at his throat, trying to breath. It was to no avail as he slumped over, gasping but only felt the warm, red liquid flow over his hands. He laid there, dying before he slipped out of consciousness, and away from this hellhole.

[Empire of Donner land]

Neum
HM3 Edna York


"So this guy is stoned out of his mind, just fucking stumbling through Times Square on new fuck'in years eve and he comes up to me and grabs me by the shoulder and he says 'I need to g-go home.' And like the good Samaritan I am I offer him a ride." Edna explained as she packed medical supplies into her backpack, Gauze, Morphine, Hemostatic powder and other things among it inside leaning against a HUMVEE.

"Yeah, yeah, what happened next?" Another Marine said wanting the rest of the story Edna had only partly talked about. "Hold your horses, I've got to make sure this stuff isn't misplaced. We're heading into combat probably." She said closing the pack and putting it on. "So I put the guy in my car and as I'm driving down this empty street, spooky as shit, I hear the door open behind me and, I swear to god, the guy fucking leaps out of the Car onto the side walk and tumbles to his feet. I stop, and he's stumbling to this alley leaning on a wall." Edna stopped speaking to him to open the door to the HUMVEE and sat in the seat.

"Don't leave me hanging here, what the hell!" The Marine cried out not wanting to be left with a cliff hanger. "I save the best for my friends man, I don't even know your name." Edna smirked at him and closed the door locking it. The rest of the story was most likely the strangest new years she's had. December 2016 hadn't been a good year and that might have been the only thing good about it. Her brother had been diagnosed with early onset Dementia, now in a home somewhere in Carolina being cared for by his Wife and the nurses and her Sister had been in Prison for drug charges, either for using them or selling them. Together, the York siblings weren't doing too well now that Edna was in the Balkens fighting in a war that most likely no one cared about back home.

Edna had heard about the attack at Sarajevo, how a Serbian attack had broken through. She didn't know anyone there, but sympathy still ran through her mind about it. For those that had lost a family member most of all. This made her think about how her own siblings would react to her death, they should all have heard about her deployment. She didn't get a chance to call before she was shipped off. If they didn't know, they would know if she died. A depressing thought for some, but Edna was used to it. She had faught off the depression for now, talking helped, but not talking about it specificly. Which may have done more harm than good to her.

Looking outside, they were atleast in a somewhat safe place. She was used to the gunfire, the sound of screaming. It was practically in her job description when she became a Corpsman. But being away from it was a nice change of pace from what she usually experienced. Especially in Afghanistan, she swore if she had a quarter for every inch of gauze she used, she would be as rich as Donald Trump, maybe even richer. It was a running joke in her squad during her last tour of the Country.

Edna turned to the others in the HUMVEE "So, how are you all doing this fine day?" She said nestling the M16 between her legs leaning back in her seat.

[Ubaria]

Lance Corporal Dominic 'Domino' Russo
Heum, Bosnia


Domino drummed a vague beat with his fingers against the metal chassis of the Humvee he was lent on, a beat he couldn't quite place but had stuck in his head anyway. Domino was his moniker back in Afghanistan, it was just a silly joke that stuck because it happened to fit in well with his name, the joke being that the squads motto was 'Hot Lead Delivery within 30 Minutes or the next one's free', it was goofy and probably not funny in any other situation but back in that sandy hell, you needed anything to take your mind away from things, any excuse to laugh, he had even considered getting a Dominoes Pizza logo tattoo'd on his inner bicep or chest in a bout of inebriation, that never came to fruition though.

The lone Autorifleman took a secondary glance at his surroundings, he had been so pre-occupied with getting his gear up and ready that he really didn't take in the sights. Neum, a small bastion of civilization, no matter how small, on the coast of the Adriatic and Bosnia's only access to the sea, it was surrounded by bristling forests and twisted sets of alpine roads, a shocking contrast from the usual sandy and flat warzones, it would make for some interesting combat. Dominic placed a stick of gum in his mouth, making an effort to cover it up, when somebody knew you had gum, you didn't have any more gum.

[New Grestin]

"One day the great European War will come out of some damned foolish thing in the Balkans"
_{Otto Von Bismarck, 1888}

Chapter 0
Calm before the Storm

Julia rose from her bunk, quietly, a cocktail of sleeping pills still flowed freely through her veins. Stumbling past the rest of the bunks and into the shower, she let her head lay against the wall as warm water flowed over her. Sleep remained just as evasive as it had for years, leaving her behind to lay in bed and stare at the ceiling for hours, staring at bare concrete and thinking nothing. Even when she did sleep, her dreams were few and far between. Most nights, if sleep did come, it would consist of simply passing out and awakening the next morning with little memory of any subconscious escapades.

She stood there for what felt like hours before finally breaking from her stupor. The sun eagerly peeked through the blinds of the barracks; a portend of the day's events. Yet for her, it provided a headache alongside anxiety. She didn't even want to be here. She was perfectly fine just building bridges and defusing bombs, but now she was on the express elevator to hell. Hell, in this case, was Sarajevo. What an irony it was, that after all the fighting of the Bosnian War, all the death and destruction and lives sacrificed, that everyone was right back to square one. The irony would have amused her if she wasn't about to get shot over it.

Violence had become a fact of life now, that was something she had had to make her peace with. The constant wars, the insanity that gripped the planet, it would never end. Her grandparents drank from that cup, just as her parents had, and just like she now would. Fighting in the nightmarish desert hellscape that was the Middle East had been unpleasant to an indescribable degree, but as Julia flicked through the news on her phone, she could only imagine the horrors that awaited her in the Balkans. She'd been in the military for, god, how many years now? She couldn't even remember at this point. Years of stress had ground her memory down to a nub and only the essentials survived.

She remembered

A cool breeze blew past, blasting against her face. She shivered, then checked her watch again. The transport was late. Not that she really minded. In fact, she was hoping it might never show up to shuttle her back into combat. She'd grown comfortable doing technical work and now, after all this time, she was being drug back, kicking and screaming into a war that she had no stake in.

As was the way of modern warfare.

Much to her chagrin, the humvee soon pulled up and she forced herself to collect her things and step inside. There were others inside, but she paid them little attention, instead choosing to plant her face against the window and try to sleep. Of course, her luck wasn't that good, and instead she found herself staring out at the winding alpine path that the humvee trudged along.

"So, how are you all doing this fine day?"

Another voice emerged into the quivering din that was the humvee. Another woman. Julia sighed and turned back out towards the road.

Perhaps she could get her sister to pull some strings, get her transferred back into central Europe again. She dashed that thought away quickly, though. Even if Jen was a senator, she doubted she could pull something like that off. Better to just bite the bullet and get it over with. The Serbs would probably crumble under NATO anyways.

"Fine." Julia croaked, trying her best to shake off her groggy morning angst. Looking over the assorted troopers in the humvee, she tried her best to crack a smile. It ended up as more of a sly grin, but it was better than nothing. She tried her best to not come off as an ice-queen. Her sister's nickname had ended up as "The Iron Maiden". Julia preferred "Damsel", if for no other reason than the perfect flavor or irony it provided.

"So, you guys are going to Sarajevo too? I heard that death and burning buildings are great for your relationship."

[Sarejo]

Corporal Samuel Turner sat on an empty crate, smoking a cigarette and cleaning his M4 before they were to be deployed, which was expected to be at any moment. He wiped down the barrel and cleaned the bore, before moving onto the receiver and firing pin. Satisfied with his cleaning job, he reassembled his rifle and took a drag on his cigarette.

He slung his rifle over his shoulder and walked over to a nearby rock to watch the dark water that lay in front of them. He took another long drag and looked over at a Seabee who was loading more gear for their deployment.

"Beautiful in the early morning." he said casually to the Seabee.

"Yeah, but I much rather be back in the states. New York is less cold than this fucking place right about now." the engineer replied, shivering for emphasis.

Samuel scoffed. The Seabee shrugged and left to go get more gear to load. Samuel turned back to the water and watched as his cigarette burned down slowly, and so he lit another one. He thought back to the day before he left on deployment, which was when his wife had given birth to their son.

Suddenly someone dropped a crate of MREs, the cursing drawing his attention. It was lilely some new boot right out of boot camp, judging by his severe lack of a beard or any facial hair at all. Samuel decided to toss his ruck in his HUMVEE and check on the rest of his fireteam.

[Ontorisa]

Neum
Bosnia and Herzegovina
0710 Hours [Local Time]
Staff Sergeant Liam Hamilton

Hamilton stood with the two other squad leaders in the 2nd Platoon, Gregory and Lewisson, just catching up after the long ship ride. They stood, quietly chatting while making sure their radios were on, so they could head to their respective squads as soon as possible. Looking up at the grey sky, Hamilton sighed.

"Anyways, so I said to the chick what the fuck do you mean you shoved a carrot up his ass? and she just smiled at me and winked." Staff Sergeant Gregory motioned while telling his story. "Fucking weird man. Telling you, never go to North Dakota for a good time. Swear that half the people there are hopped up on drugs and the other half are just weird."

"Sounds like your kind of place eh Simon?" Lewisson retorted as the two laughed. "How are both of your squads looking now, after that new wave of rookies came in?"

"I don't know about either of yours, but we have a bunch of females all of a sudden." Hamilton looked back down before taking off his helmet and adjusting a few straps. "No offence to them, but what the fuck? Half of my squad are women and I dunno."

"Can't be that bad." Lewisson replied before shrugging. "I got some kid who spent a tour in Afghanistan and another who was in Iraq."

"Brutal, I mostly still have 2-1 together from before." Gregory regarded the two. "None of the guys were re-assigned thankfully."

All Blackjack 2 Squad Commanders, we're moving out in 10. Find your squad and prep.

"Alright boys, see you two in Sarajevo." Lewisson mock saluted them before turning and walking off in the direction of some of the HUMVEEs.

"Good luck man." Both Gregory and Hamilton nodded to each other before walking off in their separate directions.

Blackjack 2-3's set of HUMVEEs were in the rear of the motor convoy. They had four HUMVEEs, two of them armed with M2 Machine Guns, one armed with an Mk19 Grenade Launcher and an unarmed one. As he walked over, he already could see a few of 2-3's marines gathering. Sighing, Hamilton tapped his radio.

"All Blackjack 2-3 elements, report to the HUMVEEs ASAP. We're heading out now." Hamilton ordered over the radio before turning and continuing his advance to the HUMVEEs.

[Deramen]

Neum
Bosnia and Herzegovina
0710 Hours [Local Time]
Staff Sergeant Liam Hamilton

Hamilton stood with the two other squad leaders in the 2nd Platoon, Gregory and Lewisson, just catching up after the long ship ride. They stood, quietly chatting while making sure their radios were on, so they could head to their respective squads as soon as possible. Looking up at the grey sky, Hamilton sighed.

"Anyways, so I said to the chick what the fuck do you mean you shoved a carrot up his ass? and she just smiled at me and winked." Staff Sergeant Gregory motioned while telling his story. "Fucking weird man. Telling you, never go to North Dakota for a good time. Swear that half the people there are hopped up on drugs and the other half are just weird."

"Sounds like your kind of place eh Simon?" Lewisson retorted as the two laughed. "How are both of your squads looking now, after that new wave of rookies came in?"

"I don't know about either of yours, but we have a bunch of females all of a sudden." Hamilton looked back down before taking off his helmet and adjusting a few straps. "No offence to them, but what the fuck? Half of my squad are women and I dunno."

"Can't be that bad." Lewisson replied before shrugging. "I got some kid who spent a tour in Afghanistan and another who was in Iraq."

"Brutal, I mostly still have 2-1 together from before." Gregory regarded the two. "None of the guys were re-assigned thankfully."

All Blackjack 2 Squad Commanders, we're moving out in 10. Find your squad and prep.

"Alright boys, see you two in Sarajevo." Lewisson mock saluted them before turning and walking off in the direction of some of the HUMVEEs.

"Good luck man." Both Gregory and Hamilton nodded to each other before walking off in their separate directions.

Blackjack 2-3's set of HUMVEEs were in the rear of the motor convoy. They had four HUMVEEs, two of them armed with M2 Machine Guns, one armed with an Mk19 Grenade Launcher and an unarmed one. As he walked over, he already could see a few of 2-3's marines gathering. Sighing, Hamilton tapped his radio.

"All Blackjack 2-3 elements, report to the HUMVEEs ASAP. We're heading out now." Hamilton ordered over the radio before turning and continuing his advance to the HUMVEEs.

Arber was talking with his friend. He looked over and saw three men speaking. As one of them pulled a radio and spoke. His radio buzzed with a command. Arber turned back to the Marine. "Peace bro." he fist bumped his friend and then moved to the HUMVEEs. He had no idea which of the HUMVEEs his squad would be taking but hoped it was the one with the guns. One guy came up to him. He saluted him. "Hello Staff Sergeant! " He didn't know this guy but he was clearly ranked higher then him.

[Barboneia]

Private First Class Kyle O. Pierce leaned against a HUMVEE, an absent minded look on his face. He seemed to be staring up at the grey, dismal sky, as if he were expecting something to fall from it, be that snow, or a meteorite. He held a pair of goggles in his hands, slowly turning them over occasionally. He sighed, and folded his arms. This place was a lot different than Afghanistan, he had already realized, but much more so than he had originally thought. For one, it was much colder, he didn't see any sand, and he hadn't been offered any beers yet. And he doubted he would be anytime soon. Kyle remembered the words of his older brother, Jeremy, right before he had joined the military. "You're going to end up getting killed! Do you really want to risk your life for this shithole of a country?" Kyle had known that the answer to that was yes.

"...I don't like this place much," he said out loud, to no one in particular. He wasn't even sure that there was anyone around, but he didn't care. He felt the need to speak his mind, so he did so. "Sure, the last place I was deployed was much hotter, and you'd end up gettin' sand everywhere, but I prefer sand to... Whatever the heck is here. Snow, I'm assumin'. Maybe dirt." He mumbled a bit as he heard his radio go off. Luckily for him, he was one step ahead of whoever had told everyone in 2-3 to be at their HUMVEEs. So Kyle simply continued leaning against the one he was leaning against, occasionally looking around.

[Cerrania]

Corporal Douglas Maclan Davis III
Neum
Bosnia and Herzegovina
0710 Hours

Corporal Davis was never, usually a man to get impatient. But lackadaisical action had always seem to really get his goat. So, as soon as the Staff Sergeant issued the command to report to the HUMVEEs, the Corporal began his own set of barking orders. He rousted several Marines from the cards game they were in the midst of, moving them to their respective vehicles. It didn't take long to organize the boys, always ready they were. Approaching his own HUMVEE, Douglas leaned against the vehicle next to the Private. Pierce, Davis believed his last name was. Procuring a cigarette from a pocket, the Corporal offered one to Pierce before lighting his own.

"You smoke, Private?" Davis asked, chuckling for one reason or the other. He then clapped the boy on the shoulder and smiled at him, shifting the weight on his FILBE to the other shoulder before speaking again, "'Cause now might be the time to start."

The Corporal, actually, couldn't be more pleased that they were in Bosnia. At least here, he could see a tangible threat, a real enemy, something he could point at. The members of the Serbian Armed Forces were the enemy. Lines of battle could be clearly drawn on a map, and Davis didn't have to wonder if the next woman he passed had a child wrapped in her cloak or a grenade.

Davis shuddered at the thought. Bad memories of Afghanistan were something he hardly wanted to resurface. He grabbed the grip of his M16A4, which was a beautiful and deadly thing. A vertical foregrip, combined with an RCO sight and some ergonomic tuning made for an incredibly precise weapon. Thumbing the magazine release, Davis finally raised his voice to yell for his fireteam.

"2-3 Alpha! Over here. Now!" He bellowed, waiting for his team to gather round. Removing the half-smoked cigarette from his mouth and flicking it into the air, Davis smiled at each individual team member as they approached.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to USMC Airlines, flying from Neum to Sarajevo. You will be occupying first class seats. I'll be one of your flight attendants for today. The travel time will be about four hours. Please, sit back, take a deep breath at the pungent smell of your squadmates, and enjoy the flight!" He said, smiling and laughing at his own joke, regardless of what the others in his team did.

[Barboneia]

Kyle stared up at the taller, somewhat older man. What was his name again? Corporal Douglas Davis? That must be right. He smiled at him weakly, rejecting the offer of a cigarette. "Ah, thanks for the offer, sir, but I don't smoke, nor do I intend to. One of my buddies from school told me 'bout his uncle, who smoked so much that he got a hole in his neck, and so he gotta speak through a voice thing now, 'cause his lungs are so messed up, too. Although, I honestly didn't pay attention, 'cause that friend of mine was always making up loadsa hogwash to mess with me-"

Kyle went quiet as he listened to Corporal Douglas yell out for "2-3 Alpha to assemble". Oh jeez, we're going to get yelled at like there's no tomorrow, I reckon. Instead, however, the corporal cracked a rather humorous joke. The Kentuckian chuckled a bit, before realizing something. He wasn't part of Alpha, he was part of Bravo! He was at the wrong HUMVEE! Darn, I really am an idiot sometimes... Kyle knocked a closed fist against the side of his helmet, before stepping away quickly, looking for the other members of Bravo.

[Pan Asian Amercian Coalition]

Lance Corporal Flynn
Bosnia / Herzegovina
7:10

The chilliness of the Balkans was a cold shock to most, but to Lance Corporal Flynn, the chill was a pleasant change of pace from his previous deployment to painfully arid Afghanistan. Derrick leaned against a crate of nondescript supplies, idly flicking through a small pocketbook of useful Croatian phrases and trying to blow vapor rings with his breath. Both efforts were met with varying degrees of success, but both did a good enough job of occupying a few minutes as he waited for the orders to mount up. Just as he managed to puff out of perfect ring, the radio began chittering away.

"All Blackjack 2-3 elements, report to the HUMVEEs ASAP. We're heading out now."

Stuffing the book in one of his many pockets and slinging his M249 Para over his shoulder, Derrick made the brisk walk to where the HUMVEEs were parked. Derrick was not particularly pleased with the HUMVEE, he had always preferred the comfortably cramped insides of the Bradley, but the only person who cared was him. If it were up to him, he would've been in the Armored, but then again, he was the only one who cared. This dislike of the light HUMVEE manifested as a deep, condescending sign as he got within arms reach of his sections' vehicle. Luckily, he was the first one from his section there, so he could enjoy a few minutes of quiet as the squad formed up.

[Vacif]

'Light infantry my ass....'

Calin zipped up the camouflaged rucksack carrying the team's spare ammunition. He carried a little less than the squad's automatic rifleman, but he still carried more than the average rifleman. While he loaded up his equipment, he conversed with several marines from the Blackjack contingent. They were members from other squads, most of them new transfers like him. Satisfied that everything he needed was with him, he hoisted the bag up and onto his back. "You guys ready for some action?" The responses from the others varied but the general consensus was an enthusiastic remark usually along the lines of "Hell yeah" and "Let's do this!".

"Better than freezing my ass off in this wasteland." One of the marines blandly remarked, Calin hadn't caught his name, and if he did he sure as hell didn't remember who he was. If he was correct it was one of the transfers from for 2-2.

"Y'know, my old DS made us run in our summer PT Gear whenever one of us bitched about the cold." grunted one of the riflemen. "Also, this ain't nothin'. You have nothing to complain about."

"Yeah, maybe where you're from but I am So-Cal boy, we don't exactly get cold weather." The small group of marines continued to talk for a while to pass the time. Eventually going over each others fears. Some were heights, the other the ocean, spiders, or snakes, and even....mimes? As they conversed a tiny little spider descended down from the web above them, curious of the commotion the marines were causing below it. The other men paid little heed to the tiny black arachnid but Calin took notice of it. Apparently their Bosnian allies hadn't heard of spring cleaning before.

Standing across of him was the private who'd admitted to his fear of spiders. He too took notice of the spider, and while he didn't show too much emotion, he pursed his lips quite tightly, and leaned his head backwards. A grin tugged at edges of his mouth as a mischievous thought came to mind. Quickly, he inhaled through his nose, and blew out through his mouth. The sudden gust of wind flung the spider off of its string and right into the private. It was a moment before he fully realized what had happened, and promptly flipped his shit. The panicked marine recoiled backwards, almost stumbling over because of his gear, and searched frantically for the 8 legged arachnid. Judging from his jerking of the arm, he found the creature and proceeded to fling the small thing across the room. The sudden commotion shook the others out of their conversations and laughter quickly arose. The peeved man quickly grabbed the closest thing he could see, an M18 smoke grenade and chucked it at Calin. He instinctively moved his head and caught the metal canister with his right hand.

"Jeez calm down! It was only a tiny spider!" he managed between laughs. The sight was incredibly satisfying to watch. "Don't you think that's a bit of an overreaction? I mean you threw a frigen grenade at me for Pete sake!"

"One, you're a dick, two, that's a smoke grenade, and thr-!" before he could finish that thought, the Motorola attached to Calin's vest sparked to life, summoning the elements of Blackjack 2-3.

"All Blackjack 2-3 elements, report to the HUMVEEs ASAP. We're heading out now." ordered staff sergeant Hamilton over the radio.

Calin interrupted the man before he could finish his points. "Gotta go, bye!" he turned on his heal and made for the door. "Don't let the spiders bite! I hear there are a lot of 'em living in these old buildings and all over the forest!" he yelled back as he left. He could practically feel the guy flip him off as he left.

He jogged his way towards the motor pool where several groups marines were already gathered as well as their olive drab convoy. He could hear an older guy yelling as he got near. "2-3 Alpha! Over here. Now!" Hey, that was him! With a small grin, and sped up and got in line just in time for his squad leader's fine announcement.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to USMC Airlines, flying from Neum to Sarajevo. You will be occupying first class seats. I'll be one of your flight attendants for today. The travel time will be about four hours. Please, sit back, take a deep breath at the pungent smell of your squad mates, and enjoy the flight!" He said, smiling and laughing at his own joke, regardless of what the others in his team did. That was his cup of tea, but a little humor never hurt anyone, so he let off a small grin. "Private first class Calin Blake reporting in!" he snapped off a quick salute to his squad leader.

[Ontorisa]

Neum
Bosnia and Herzegovina
0710 Hours [Local Time]
Staff Sergeant Liam Hamilton

"Private first class Calin Blake reporting in!" he snapped off a quick salute to his squad leader.

"Fall in with your fireteam commander Blake." Hamilton looked at the assistant automatic rifleman.

Hamilton had already gave the orders to the fireteam commanders a while ago. They were to dismount and head eastwards into a small urban complex where they would set up a temporary Forward Operating Base for Blackjack 6. 2-3 Alpha would lead the way, with 2-3 Bravo holding down their six. Hamilton took a look at his map, at the area of Sarajevo, looking at potential choke points they could use against the Serbians if they attacked. If the marines could set up a kill zone right off the bat, then the Serbian offensive had the potential to grind to a halt.

But Blackjack 2-3's role right now, was to mount up, drive to Sarajevo and then set up. It wasn't really the best set of orders Hamilton had ever had, but orders were orders.

"Fireteam commanders, make sure you relay what we're doing in Sarajevo to your fireteam, out." Hamilton radioed 2-3 Alpha and 2-3 Bravo, before he walked over to one of the HUMVEEs.

Inside was his squad corpsman, HM3 York. Hamilton banged on the window before motioning for her to come out.

"I have to tell you something." Hamilton mouthed to her before he stood back a bit.

Already, a few HUMVEEs and MTVRs were setting out, but they were probably from Rhino 6 or Magician 6. Rochester had yet to move out. Hamilton stood there, impatiently as the 24th MEU milled about, organizing themselves and slowly, one by one, driving off to their rendezvous objectives. Hamilton could already feel his pulse start to accelerate. It was a great feeling, first taste of combat in what felt like decades. A fantastic and exhilarating mix of adrenaline, fear, anxiousness and excitement.

He was ready, but right now, he wasn't sure if 2-3 was.

[Hafflegar]

PFC Ryan Panzer 0700AM
Neum
Bosnia and Herzegovina



PFC Ryan Panzer sat on the ground by himself, propped up against the right front tire of his Fire team's assigned HUMVEE and minding his own business. Sighing, he checked his watch again. Weren't we supposed to report to the trucks at 0630? Where the fuck is my fire team? The last he saw of them they were just getting out of bed at around five thirty this morning while he was already awake, showered, shaven, and ready to go. Ryan could tell the other guys didn't like him very much, but then again he didn't very much care either. He thought it was kind of funny that some of his good friends were cooks whom stayed back in the states. With another bored sigh, he dislodged another rock from the ground with the small stick in his hand and spit a stream of brown saliva out onto the ground. This is just great. Join the marines, Fly halfway around the world, just to sit in a cold ass motor pool and watch everyone -else's- fireteams get ready to do shit. Shaking his head he grumbled to himself, "Shoulda just went MARSOC." His grumbling was suddenly interrupted by the motorola radio squawking from his shoulder,

"All Blackjack 2-3 elements, report to the HUMVEEs ASAP. We're heading out now."

Glancing around mildly, and seeing literally no one else from his fire team, Ryan hauled himself to his feet and picked up his rifle from where it was leaning next to him. "Dibs on the gunner's chair" He said to no-one in particular, opened up the door and slung his assault pack into the back with his rucksack and stepped up into the HUMVEE.

[Deramen]

After speaking with his higher up, Arber moved over to the HUMVEE he would be taking. He pulled out his radio and barked a command. "Everyone in Blackjack 2-3 Bravo meet me at the HUMVEE immediately! Failure to do so will bring you a world of hurt!" He put back the radio back into his pocket. H walked to Corporal Douglas. He managed to catch the joke he was telling. He chuckled. "Nice one Douglas. Do you have a smoke? I lost my packets." Arber gave puppy dog eyes and whimpered. "Pwease?"

[Ubaria]

"All Blackjack 2-3 elements, report to the HUMVEEs ASAP. We're heading out now."

The call went out, as it happened, Dominic was leaning against the entirely wrong convoy, that explained the lack of people paying him any attention. Cradling his M27 in both arms, Dominic sauntered over to the waiting line of Humvee's that had been assigned to their squad, two M2's a One-Nine and an unarmed, a respectable amount of firepower though he felt safer in an MRAP or MTVR, more chance of soaking up an IED explosion than a Humvee, which would more often than not, completely flip over.

"Lance Corporal Russo reporting in Staff Sergeant" Dominic stopped a few feet from the lead Humvee and adjusted his pack, making sure each strap hugged his body as to alleviate the sag.

[Ontorisa]

Neum
Bosnia and Herzegovina
0720 Hours [Local Time]
Staff Sergeant Liam Hamilton

Hamilton watched his squad mill about, talking and unconsciously getting prepared for Sarajevo. He felt the anticipation in the air, everyone was anxious to get into the field. Only thing they were missing, was Blackjack 6's order to move out. Taking out his notepad, Hamilton reviewed the orders his squad was assigned over and over again before he looked back up.

Then it came. The order.

All Blackjack 2 Squad Leaders, this is 2 Actual. Advised 6 has given the nod, we're mounting up and heading out to Sarajevo. Out.

Hamilton grinned as his radio finished squawking. He looked up at his squad before breathing in.

"2-3! Let's mount up! Let's move! Let's move! We have our order! Alpha, you're grabbing the M2 in the front! Bravo, you're in the One-Nine! Charlie's in the rear M2! York's with me in the unarmed! Let's head out now!" Hamilton shouted the order.

[Hafflegar]

Neum
Bosnia and Herzegovina
0720 Hours, PFC Ryan Panzer



Ryan Panzer suddenly became aware of his Squad leader barking orders from across the motor pool as he began to get set up in the gunner's seat. A twinge of adrenaline and more than a little bit of fear smacked him like a sack of concrete as it suddenly dawned on him that he had spent the last two hours at the entirely wrong HUMVEE!. Shock suddenly dissolved into anger and Ryan burst out into a stream of colorful curses as he clambered out of the turret and collected his gear. "Son of a fuck, mother fucking fuck fucker!" As if to emphasize his point he slammed the door to the HUMVEE and sprinted the 100 meters or so over to his actual vehicle That's great. Haven't even seen contact yet and I'm already fucking up! Once he reached his fire team's truck, he spotted Corporal Turner not too distant from the vehicle. Ryan glanced inside the vehicle and he could see the Corporal's gear already stowed. Setting his ruck and assault pack down with a thump, he opened the back driver side door and slung his equipment up into the truck beside the Corporal's.

This task completed, Ryan closed the door and walked up behind the Corporal, making sure to maintain a respectful distance before snapping to parade rest, Arms behind his back, eyes forward, with legs relaxed and shoulder width apart, "Where do you need me, Corporal? I uh... don't have my MUMVEE liscense yet so I figured I might as well take the gunner's turret."

[Gvozdevsk]

Lance Corporal Estelle Leclerc had just finished loading the magazines for her M27 IAR when the orders to mount up came. She inserted the last magazine she finished loading into the rifle, pulling back the charging handle to chamber a round. For good measure, she removed the magazine and inserted another round to replace the one in the chamber, giving her a total of 31 rounds loaded and ready to go when she put the magazine back in her rifle. Having one extra round may seem negligible at best, but Estelle was a good shooter and new that one well placed round was all she needed to end a man's life.

Estelle thought about that for a second. She had killed before in Afghanistan. But that was a different situation. The Taliban couldn't shoot straight and seemed almost as if they wanted to die. But the Serbians, they're a trained and well equipped conventional force. To her, the Serb soldiers that were about to be on the other end of her rifle almost seemed more human than the Taliban, and that made it more difficult to actually think about killing them.

As she was thinking about this, she made her way over to the Humvees. She looked around for her fireteam, and quickly spotted them mounting up on the Humvee with the mounted Mk. 19. As she was making her way over, she heard her fireteam leader barking orders into his radio, ordering the fireteam to fall in.

Great, we've got a hardass, she thought as she got in the back driver's side seat of the Humvee. As the automatic rifleman she probably should have taken the mounted gun, but in the event she had to fire from a moving vehicle she felt much more comfortable using her IAR.

[Legatia]

Jack Lancaster, Private First Class, United States Marines, was sitting and finishing off a Twix bar. The nineteen year old had never smoked or drank, in part because it wasn't legal and he couldn't mooch them off of the exchange back home. The Marine had it in his mind that a soldier with a smoke in his mouth was the picture in the dictionary next to "veteran" or something like that.

Leaned against a HMMWV, Jack overheard the call to mount up. Feeling a little eager today, the Marine turned to his squad leader, Corporal Turner.

"Hey, Corporal, mind if I take the wheel?"

[Barboneia]

"Uh... Oh!"

Kyle looked around frantically, before locating the HUMVEE he and his squad were assigned to. He noted that it had a Mark 19 mounted on top of it as he rushed over to it, adjusting his pack so it didn't weigh so heavily on his back. He stepped around the back of the vehicle, and climbed into the passenger's side back seat. Kyle looked over at who he was sitting next to, and wracked his brain trying to remember who they were. He knew their rank, and he had eyed her a few times before, but what was her name, exactly? He swore he used to be better at remembering these things...

"Hi, Lance Corporal!" he said, smiling. "Isn't this exciting? I wonder if we're goin' to see combat immediately or not." He stared at the window, resting his M4 on his lap. "Boy... If my parents could see me now... I'd hope they'd be proud."

[Vacif]

Giving a quick nod in response to his squad leader's orders, he briskly made his way to the not so far away olive drab Humvee. He pulled open the driver side door of the vehicle, and threw his back in the back before climbing into the driver's seat. He figured that the fireteam leader probably wouldn't be driving cause he'd be talking with the squad leader, and the automatic rifleman would probably be on the M2. As for their rifleman, well they could sit pretty in the back. Shutting the metal door behind him, he awaited the rest of his team to get in.

[Galdius]

Neum
Bosnia and Herzegovina
0710 Hours [Local Time]
Private First Class Charlotte Gerhardt.

"All Blackjack 2-3 elements, report to the HUMVEEs ASAP. We're heading out now."

The familiar voice of the squads leader crackled over the squads communication, informing the squad that the wait was over, and it was the time to mount up and head into the potential shit storm that could become of the operation in Sarajevo. There was little in the way to mask what lay head, she had heard from the briefings and various rumours around the water cooler. The Serbians would be hammering the city hard, sending in the whole she-bang, Heavy armour, IFV's and a well trained infantry force to back them up. Not the overzealous hajji's in pyjamas that the united states had been doing battle against for the last decade or so, but more well-trained, well equipped and uniformed force who likely wouldn't mind spilling some american blood along with the Bosnians soldiers as well.

a feeling of nervousness stirred deep down in her stomach as she worried about what lay ahead for her on the unsteady path, which had more to do with the fact that this fight would be her very first, one that didn't involve cardboard targets in a firing range. The sixteen weeks of hard training still fresh in the back of her mind, and now she was here on her first deployment, which was going to be far from cushy and it was almost set in stone that they would run into serious resistance from the Serbian armed forces in the city when the eventually come, if the aren't already there. But whilst her nerves where going absolutely fucking haywire at the thought of combat but on the flip side, she was excited, almost eager to experience the rush of combat. It was she had dedicated three and a half months too, and now she wanted to get some. It was a strange feeling, being scared shitless of the thought of combat whilst simultaneously being excited by it.

She made her way towards Blackjack 2-3 Bravo's humvee. Padding down her vest pouches and checking over her gear one last time with her free hand to ensure that she had everything she needed to do her job was where she needed it to be and wasn't forgotten as she walked at a brisk pace towards her fire-teams vehicle. "Ammo....Check......Grenades.....Check....Medkit....double check..." her own mutterings where quickly broken by the bellowing voice of her fire-team leader. She involuntarily rolled her eyes whilst simultaneously upping her pace as he threatened a world of pain to those who those squad members who didn't show up at the humvee, being his usual self. She didn't exactly have a bone with the guy, and he had been through some amount of shit from what she had heard from others considering that he didn't talk about himself, but the guy was an unnecessary hard ass who seemed to act more like her former drill instructor than a fire team leader.

And just when she thought she had escaped the likes of Drill instructor Hammond.

Not wanting to potentially piss off Bonaparte any longer, she tossed her ruck inside the Humvee before climbing into the passenger seat of the vehicle, only to find out that the fire team leader wasn't actually in the vehicle. Taking a quick look into the back as she got comfortable in the passenger seat, she caught a glance of the two squad mates, Elle and Kyle. She hadn't had all that much time to get to know them all that well, but she had chatted with them a number of times, as she did with most of a platoon just before deployment.

Elle seemed generally all right, friendly enough but not particularly on the talkative type. She had however helped point out a few "Rookie" mistakes that she had made. Kyle was, well, kyle. The guy seemed too annoyingly nice and caring to be in a job that involved kicking down doors, blowing shit up and occasionally shooting at people, on that note however he was more than friendly to her despite being a near incompetent greenhorn boot, so glad he was in the fire team over some of the others that she had the pleasure of meeting. In fact, she was grateful that she was in a squad with the two of them, who both had a number of tours under their belts in combat zones and where good at what they did. In fact, Charly was most definitely the weaker link of the squad.

She had gotten into the vehicle just at the right time to key in on a conversation about how proud their parents must be in them, which was typical for kyle. She silently chucked, softly grinning at his choice of topic, which was strange at best. "Oh, my parents are real proud of me kyle.." She smiled sarcastically, turning over to her side in order face the two in the back, sporting a warm smile. "They are real glad that I turned down some scholarship so that I could join the marine core and travel the world, meet interesting and strange people, some of whom may want to kill us." But her sarcastic humour aside, she knew that her parents were surprisingly proud of her. She had accomplished more than they had expected out of her, almost amounting to the same as what her brothers did. She turned back around, the thoughts of her parents now fresh in mind, smiling as she faced the front of the vehicle, cradling her rifle in a low position, barrel facing towards the floor of the vehicle. "Say, any of you two seen Arber?" Despite the fact that he was just a second ago shouting down the comms, he was surprisingly nowhere to be seen.

[Pan Asian Amercian Coalition]

Neum
Lance Corporal Flynn
Blackjack 2-3 Charlie
Bosnia / Herzegovina

"2-3! Let's mount up! Let's move! Let's move! We have our order! Alpha, you're grabbing the M2 in the front! Bravo, you're in the One-Nine! Charlie's in the rear M2! York's with me in the unarmed! Let's head out now!"

Quiet time now soundly over, Derrick mentally prepared himself for the upcoming action as he secured his backpack to the flank of the HUMVEE his unit was assigned to. Derrick took a deep breath to help relax as he did a quick double check all of his equipment. Everything was in order, from his gas mask plus filters to every AAA battery, just as he had left it the last time he checked five minutes ago. He threw the rear left door open and clambered over the seats to reach the gunner's position in the center.

"Morning." said Derrick in a banal but friendly greeting to any of his squad who were paying attention as he used his foot to pull the armored door closed.

First come is first served, in this case, first on the Ma Deuce. He took the spot unopposed by his erstwhile comrades, whom were somewhere else upon closer inspection. Derrick quickly inspected the American classic, and finding everything met his admittedly lax approval, he leaned back against the turret ring and waited for his squad to show up.

[Sarejo]

...

Corporal Turner looked up at the man in his fireteam, Private First Class Ryan Panzer, and heard him ask to take the gunner's seat.

"Yes, Private, climb on up in there. *Turning to the rest of his fireteam* All you load up! We're out in three!"