[headquarters]

now thats a nice write up.Let me embellish some on you current situation :

He spun the cylinder on his six-shooter for the 11th time that grey,bleak dawn and holstered it again.The brown leather and polished steel looked garish against the mottled olive drab of his mopp suit.The troublesome gun traverse on the T-34 he had just unstuck was making a robotic humming sound as the gunner ceaselessly swung the barrel on the 85 mm main gun -like a boy playing with a new favourite toy .He casuallty walked over to the ruin of a brick walled house and squatted.Inside a squad of infantry were digging out positions .In their mopp suits they looked like strange beasts in the grey,dim dawning.Scampering over the debris and clawing with hand tools at the dirt and debris.He watched their slow progress for a fe minutes and then stood.In a little while a HMG .50 cal would be set up here and undoubtedly draw fire from all sorts of NDP unpleasantry.

No need to stick around for that .

Up at the line ,300 meters or so away ,another casualty was being hurried back to the aid post.The stretcher bearers running crouched double .A RPG round hissed malevolently over their heads and hit a wall some 50 meters ahead .Unfazed they kept on coming .

He had to admire them for that. The body on the stretcher bounced painfully in the straps .God only knew if he would make it .

The din of the battle seemed strangely muted inside the mask and moppsuit hood he had on.

So much so that when he concentrated he could almost imagine it gone .He thought of himself riding through the same ruins on his Appaloosa,cradling an Austrian .308 FN-FAL in his elbow and chewing on a straw.It would make a cool scene in the dusty surroundings he thought.

If he could have ridden without the NBC gear. It was really starting to bother him by now.The mask was slowly suffocating him and the suit made him sweat with every step.But he knew better than to take it off ,like he has seen some do.

The dust that would have made this such a cool scene in a western was radiated.Inhale enough and spitting blood and eventually collapsing was inevitable.

He has seen plenty of those slow,slimey ,cancerous deaths.

A few rifle rounds found their random way to the wall he had placed himself behind.The muted ricochet sounds brought him back .Just moments after finishing up his mechanic work ,the vehicle commander had informed him that the big chief wanted all assault team personel up atthe brick houses for a renewed push . That meant him .

What was so important about this place anyways ?

They would be pushing off soon ,so he started making his way up to the line.He ran from a corner still standing to a pile of debris that was once a house and knelt down .Panting he squinted through the glass of his mask and took bearing on a low foundation wall with charred bits of timber still attached to it .Just as he got up to make the dash -a few rifle rounds hit the debris covering him . A jolt of cold fear sped through him making his hands shake instantly. Had they spotted him?

He couldnt remember how he got there but suddenly the run was over and he was lying prone behind the foundation wall .Still 150 meters to go to the brick houses.
Sweat trickle ddown his back and started to cool .Soon he would be clammy and cold again.

Some tracers zaped erratically overhead .MG fire he thought.

This was going to be a long 150 meters.