Desert Hiatus...

Posted on Sat Sep 16th, 2017 @ 1:05pm by Sergeant Jon Jameson

Mission: Mission #2 - SGM 1
Location: Iraqi Desert
Timeline: Pre-Mission/New Arrival

OOC: A pre-mission post getting into charcater.


The ruined ancient battle-tank, a soviet built T-72M, lay forgotten in the sprawling wilderness of dunes and low hills. It’s blackened and rusted hulk reminiscent of the sprawling carcass of a dinosaur from some forgotten age, the broken trailing tracks half-hidden by drifting sand. A pale furred desert fox, ears pricked and alert, stood in the shade of the tank’s jutting barrel. The small creature sniffed at a piece of meat before it, an unexpected treat. It grabbed the morsel between sharp teeth and then disappeared into the shade and shadow beneath the ruined vehicles main body.

Jon Jamison, better known as “JJ” or “Bacon” to his SAS team mates, put away the Ration Pack and looked up into the azure cloudless sky and wondered about the long-dead Iraqi crew of the stricken tank - a forgotten victim of Gulf War 1 or Desert Storm, an airstrike decades ago using depleted uranium shells. No doubt the crew’s bones were scattered somewhere hereabouts or buried nearby beneath the sand in some unmarked grave. Crouching down JJ rubbed the warm sand between his fingers, it was more like a coarse gritty Kitty Litter he put out for his pet cat back at Base rather than Sharps sand used for building and such like.

“This whole country’s just one big Kitty Litter” JJ muttered beneath his breath pulling a camo burnoose scarf about his mouth and picking up his weapon, a G3 KA4 with a fold-away stock.

“We got company” Harry ‘Bonehead’ McCauley muttered from where he lay half-hidden in his desert camo gear, his head wrapped mufti-style in his own scarf. He nodded to the South West pointing out a dark speck just off the hazy horizon. “Chopper coming in low and fast SSW… five plus klicks out” the other member of the SAS ‘watch team’ noted, raising a laser targeting monocular to his left eye. “Looks like an old Bell Huey, an antique… non-reflective black paint job so probably Yank Spec Ops”

[Some minutes later…]

Sand settled as the dull balck and unmarked Huey rested on its skids, the pilot looking ourt from the Perspex canopy like some giant soul-less insect with a huge glistening black helmet on, mirrored visor down… An insect or some black clad minion straight off the Darth’s Death Star awaiting orders to vaporise some unfortunate planet or other. The man who jumped off the chopper, ducking down as the blades spun loosely overhead, was so out of place from his surroundings that JJ had to blink twice to make sure he wasn’t seeing things.

The man, an American no-doubt, with his flashing all too-white all-even-teeth and a light weight cotton suit. White oxford shirt buttoned up and wearing a tie… in this heat! The suit and the close-cut blonde hair cut all screamed Langley down to the mirrored shades that hid his eyes and the OD sealed order folder tucked under his arm.

“You’re looking for me particularly… Out here! Couldn’t it wait?” JJ snarled in disbelief a few moments later rubbing at the heavy, grizzled beard now shot with a few grey hairs that clung moss-like to his chin. He looked incredulously at the new arrival, one Agent John D. Sawyer (possibly even his real name) who stood there sweating in his suit – the arsehole was even wearing a white T beneath his shirt. No doubt he was used to some chilled AC Intel and Coms compound in the rear rather than out here in the boonies of the deep Iraqi desert.

“Yep, all for you… John JJ Jamison, 2nd Regiment, SAS” the 'suit' nodded, wiping a finger at the stiff collar of his shirt. “I’ve got your secondment sealed orders and transfer right papers here” Sawyer replied in his Mid-Western twang, tapping the OD envelope that had more stamps on it than an Indian long distance letter. “You’ve been recalled and it has to be right now…”

“Is it going to be a long trip?… I haven’t packed or sh*t” JJ muttered putting an unlit cigar in his mouth, out of habit.

“Your gears being stowed as we speak on a waiting C40 clipper all for you…” Sawyer replied with a broad grin that JJ wanted to punch instinctively.

“As for the trip it could be far longer than you’d ever imagine!” Sawyer added with a knowing smile...