NationStates Jolt Archive

Peters Air Force Base, San Allimos, Aequatius Prime

Even though the 1st Parachute Infantry Regiment was still mobilizing for operations overseas, although a majority of the base remained open to the awaiting Desert Cadre of mechanized forces from Russkya. They were to endure a training exercise alongside one of the maneuver brigades of the 14th Armoured Division, famous from the Separatist Conflict, stationed in the Western Desert. One of the division's liason officers, a young Major Richard Concord, waited in the comfort of the lounge which afforded a view over the rolling desert, peering out on the mesas and shrubs of the terrain. The sun remained high as it poured its heat over the area, drowning the air with an almost unbearable heat and blazing sunlight. Major Concord sat back in his seat and fixed his sunglasses as he awaited the arrival of the first aircraft on the tarmac.

The Russko-German Corps, or "Deutsche Korps," is comprised of the ethnically German demographic of the Russkyan population. For the purposes of Exercise "OASIS GUARDIAN," they had been selected to provide a cadre, dubbed "The Desert Cadre," which would become the training staff of the Arid Regions Warfare Theory and Doctrine School in Russkya, with field exercises conducted in suitable arid regions around the world as they were available. The Russkyans hoped to train further in the Western Deserts of Aequatius Prime in the future, but that would have to wait until after Oasis Guardian.

From the same sky that shimmered with the massive heat of the day came a dozen An-124 and a quartet of the larger An-225 Antonov-designed, Russkyan-flown heavy-lift strategic aircraft. With the appropriate permissions of the Peters AFB control tower, they touched down in sequence on the designated runways, taxied to the designated laager points, and began offloading their cargo.

Their cargo consisted of Oberstabsfeldwebel Paul Balck, an imposing figure in his issue battledress, followed by a full company of Panzergrenadiers and their L-15 "Badger" Infantry Fighting Vehicles, and a troop of modified Fennek vehicles from Panzer-Aufklärungs-Abteilung C, one of which was commanded by Oberfeldwebel Frank Nielsmann. The units formed into march columns, the Panzergrenadiers embarked on the Badgers and the Reconnaissance troops forming the edge of the spearhead, all coordinated by Sergeant Major Balck, and on the signal of the lead vehicle, rolled away from the runways and tarmac. Clear of the risk of any possible interference with aircraft, the units formed into a laager formation with professional precision, and Balck dismounted his vehicle to confer with the officers of the Company and Troop, waiting for a liasion officer to arrive.

Again with the blessings of the Peters AFB traffic controllers, the Antonovs lifted into the sky and began the return leg to Russkya, where they would return to supporting the operations of 1 O-E Regiment in the Stovakian Peninsula.

Approached by one of the Air Force NCOs, Major Concord made his way down to the tarmac, he placed his field cap over his buzzed hair and fixed his sunglasses again as he stepped out and took his seat in the passenger side of an open M910 humvee. The vehicle moved with a start and was rolling over the tarmac towards the arrived elements of the Russo-German personnel. The digitized pattern matched well to the terrain as the loose fitting service uniform moved in the wind as the major dismounted the vehicle after it came to a halt, he was followed by one of the Air Force NCOs, an older man with slightly graying hair. The officer stepped forward and greeted the Russkyan commanders, "Welcome to Peters Air Force Base, smack in the middle of the beautiful Western Desert, I'm Major Concord, your liason officer from the 14th Armoured Division," He paused and introduced the NCO, "This is Chief Master Sergeant Ben Rothman, everything on the tarmac's his, anything you need, he's the man to speak with."

As all of the Company's commissioned officers were currently busy attending to their platoons, Balck stepped forward beside Hauptmann Kiesel. Kiesel halted and saluted with parade-ground precision and Oberstabsfeldwebel Balck stood to attention just behind and to the left of the Captain.

"Hello Major Concord. I am Captain Kiesel, of Der Krieglied Panzergrenadier Regiment, Panzergrenadier Division Number Nine-Twenty-One. This is the Cadre's Sergeant Major, Chief Warrant Officer Balck."

Balck nodded at his Aequatian counterpart as his officer spoke. Behind the dismounted officers and NCOs, the majority of the troops were still inside their vehicles, sheltering from the heat in the shade of the troop compartments and crew stations, the interior lights off, and the air conditioning active. Every man was beginning to feel the heat, their combat uniforms being vented at the armpits and groin with a camouflaged mesh sown into the uniform, but the material being thick and not breathing well enough for the arid region climate. Lesson number one, thought Balck, change into desert combats on the flight over. Lesson number two, he continued silently to himself, eyeing the Aequatian uniforms, will hopefully not be that the desert uniforms are also hopeless for this heat.

"It's a pleasure and honour to meet you, it's nice to meet comrades that are currently on joint operations overseas on the Stovakian Peninsula," He said, eyeing the soldiers taking shelter from the harsh sun, "I was to inform you that the first few days would consist of a rigourous acclimatization to the environment here, including proper hydration procedures."

The sergeant added as the major finished, "As for your vehicles, we can keep them off in one of the hardened hangers for the time being, as a squadron of F-28As are currently on long-range escort for the airborne's transit overseas," He mentioned, pointing to one of the hangers sitting alongside the runway.

The Captain and Sergeant-Major nodded affirmative simultaneously. Kiesel stayed with Major Concord while Balck about-faced and bellowed across the tarmac in Russkyan, as the majority of his fellow soldiers weren't yet wearing their personal role radio headsets - and even then, vocal orders were generally the norm. The Hauptmann spoke.

"Yes sir, that sounds like a damned good idea. We will laager in the hard shelter and await the arrival of the rest of the Brigade, I believe they are arriving via sea and then rail transit to this, or a nearby location.

If you have enough personnel here to begin acclimatization, we can laager, form up by platoons, and go from there."

Oberstabsfeldwebel Balck indicated one of the hard-shelters and immediately the Reconnaissance vehicles headed in that direction, followed by the platoons of the company as they broke their laager formation and headed for the new, possibly temporary, home.

The major turned to Kiesel, "Your people will be staying in temporary barracks in the hanger during the acclimitization, after which we will be moving to the Norman Training Grounds out in the desert. The 14th Armoured Division's elements are already preparing for the arrival of the rest of your forces, although we have a few officers and specialists to speak with your soldiers on specific topics such as survival, maintainance and navigation."

Hauptmann Kiesel bid adieu to Major Concord with a quick and militarily precise salute, then rejoined his Panzergrenadier Kompanie. The vehicles arrayed themselves in neat rows by Platoons on the left of their temporary quarters, and the Grenadiers dismounted, each carrying a heavy bergen rucksack. Two Feldwebels and a Leutnant began segmenting the provided barracks by Company and further by Platoon for the First Battalion of the cadre. No. 2 Battalion would do that itself when it arrived via rail, along with Brigade Headquarters and the Support Abteilung.

The Panzergrenadiers, meanwhile, sorted themselves out by Section and Platoon and racked out, changing into their desert combat uniforms, a baggy, lightweight and durable set of trousers and combat jacket accompanied by hard-wearing and well ventilated desert boots, everything in a shade of simple Khaki desert-tan. Thus kitted, the soldiers began camouflaging their personal equipment and weapons with brown and khaki tape. The purpose of this exercise was to determine modifications nessecary to the combat uniforms and equipment for operations in arid regions, and a suitable camouflage pattern.

Johann Lossow looked back across the flatcars at his Gunnólfr tank and the fellow machines of his platoon and company. The newer Zulu Mk. IV tanks had arrived in time to accompany the tanks of No. 1 Company, "B" Battalion, SPz BDE "Michael Wittmann." The young man turned back to the gunner of a Mk. IV who shuffled crisp new cards between dextrous fingers. His desert-khaki "Panzerkompli" overall bore the rank insignia of a Stabsunteroffizier, and the name-tape across the left side of the chest, above a slanted, zippered pocket, read "Kohelmann." His tank driver already held a pair of cards, one face up, the other face down.

From the front of the passenger compartment, a half-platoon of Panzergrenadiers began singing to pass the time. One of the curiosities of the Deutsche Korps was that even after the participation of Russkya on the Allied side during WWII, the Deutsche Korps, often comprised of men who could trace their lineage back to Wehrmacht or W.SS men who had emmigrated to Russkya with their families at the end of the war, rather than face Soviet occupational rule, sang the old Soldatenlied (Soldier's Songs), without any edits. They did not sing any Nazi-heavy soldatenlied, but did not bother to edit out certain words and phrases in the accepted songs that were printed in their issued song books.

Heiß über Afrikas Boden die Sonne glüht,
Unsere Panzermotoren singen ihr Lied.

The song, freakishly appropriate for Operation Oasis Guardian, picked up throughout the compartment until all the Russko-Germans present were singing, either tapping their boots or knocking on a nearby table in time with the tune. It's title was Heiß über Afrikas Boden, translated as The Sun is Glowing Hot over the African Soil.

Deutsche Panzer im Sonnenbrand
stehen im Kampf gegen Engeland!
Es rasseln die Ketten, es dröhnt der Motor!
Panzer rollen in Afrika vor!

"Do you figure we should translate the songs to English and sing them to see what the Aequatians think of our tradition?"
"I'm not sure how well that would go over. The tune... doesn't quite fit - and it's probably best not to piss off the guys who have more live ammo available than we do. I mean, listen to this, it doesn't sound right: The Sun is glowing hot over the African soil / our tank engines sing their song / German tanks under the burning sun, stand in battle against England / the Treads are Rattling, the Engines are Droning / Tanks are advancing in Africa."
"Yeah, that's an issue. Ah well. How's Number Three Company doing?"
"They're sweating, like the rest of us. Wish we were in our tanks, eh? We'd have AC then."

As the Russkyans settled into the temporary barracks, Rothman spoke with his hanger supervisors about setting aside a number of other hangers for the remaining elements of the brigade-sized cadre. As the soldiers moved about on the base grounds, the scream of jet engines were heard overhead as a flight of four F-29A Hurricane fighters lifted off the runway loaded with laser-guided 225-kilogram direct attack munitions and banked Northwest as they moved towards the proving grounds and the waiting target buildings.

Central Rail Station, San Allimos, Aequatius Prime

Large sections of the station's cargo and holding area had been cordoned off for the arrival of the Russkyan heavy equipment as the civilian ground crews, working with both Aequatian and Russkyan logistics specialists, handled the unloading of the vehicles, such as the L-16 wheeled vehicles which closely resembled the familiar UNISUV family of vehicles in the Republic's service. One of the heavy-lift cranes whined with its hydralics as it hoisted one of the Zulu mark.IV main battle tanks, the 140mm gun pointed backwards over the engine compartment as it was lifted from the flatbed car and onto the pavement of the grounds, The Russkyan crews were directed by a number of Combat Operations Support Command (COSCOM) personnel as they placed rubber pads on the tracks of the Zulu and Battlewolf tanks and L-15 model armoured vehicles so as to avoid damage to the local roads.

Captain Ronald Kirkpatrick, one of the directions managers for COSCOM at the station, walked through the yard as the people worked, his bright white hardhat with the COSCOM insignia and his desert uniform as he looked for the Russkyan in command. He approached a group of Aequatian and Russkyan enlisted logistics personnel taking a cigarette break, "Can anyone here direct me to the Russkyan C.O. here?"

An Unteroffizer sprang to attention as soon as he saw Kirkpatrick's rank insignia. His Hauptgefreiter also stood to attention, and the Gefreiters as part of the unloading element stood to attention as well before rejoining the offloading process, leaving their two senior men to talk with the commissioned officer.
The Unteroffizer, a Master Corporal equivalency, directed Captain Kirkpatrick to Oberst Hofstetter, the Executive Officer of the "Desert Cadre" and a Tank-man by history and trade. He returned the Aequatian's salute and amicably nodded.

"Captain. I am Colonel Pavel Hofstetter, currently the commanding officer of this detatchment. Brigadier-General Ostarhilde was called away by the Politburo a few moments before we embarked our transports here, so he will arrive shortly via aircraft, I would imagine."

That said, the Colonel carried on in his accent-free and precise English.

"I noticed that your people are insisting on the rubber blocks for the treads. You must excuse me, and my apologies, but Major Franck here will be able to liase more effectively with you than I at the moment."

Dieter Franck stepped up, his Major's insignia bright and freshly issued, unbleached as yet by the elements on his combat uniform's epaulettes, which were simple strips of buttoned-down fabric bearing the low-visibility rank marker on their attachment 'slips.' The honour of the Aequatian's salute already returned by his superior, the Major wasted no time in extending his hand and a ready smile. "Hello Captain, I am Major Dieter Franck," occupying Kirkpatrick while his superior officer attended to other pressing matters - for example, how a vehicle crew of Number Six Company had been able to fit an entire distillation unit, albeit compact, inside their L-16CP without upsetting any of the ruggedized electronics.

"Greetings, Major," The captain said with a quick salute and return, "I know you tankers don't much like the time taken to install the rubber pads, but it is the law in peacetime, for everyone," He said, taking out his clipboard from underneath his arm and handing Franck the top page, "That is the route your people will be taking through the Southern edge of the city, the larger eight-lane roadways will provide us with a half of it to yourselves. Our MP units will provide 'security' for you, mostly as a guide," He explained as he returned to his clipboard before speaking again without looking up, "Oh, and even though fraternization is frowned upon and we would prefer it didn't occur, we know we can't stop human nature while you're all here."

"Quicker to install the rubber blocks than to load up platoon by platoon on heavy transporters to the kaserne, Captain. We can't take certain roads at certain times of the year out in the steppes because during fall and spring the rain or melting snow turns them to mud and if we take the roads, we risk breaking them and they will literally shift. The Russians, like us, call it 'raspusitsa' - and it is Hell on manuever warfare. An integral part of some of our defensive strategies, too."

Franck accepted the paper and quickly inspected it before handing it off to a nearby staff-man who checked it and then transcribed the route onto their map of the area. This information was then transmitted to all TADS displays. Despite this, unit briefings would brief commanders from Battalion to Section level on the route, in detail.

"Being out in the desert will prevent much fraternization. That, and fear of Sergeant Major Balck. I'm told that your women aren't built like... some of our regional neighbours are. That may present some problems, but until these lads get thoroughly drunk they'll behave properly. As to the guides, much appreciated - but the security aspect of that, why is that required? We're not likely to see any gangbangers conducting a drive-by shooting on my movement columns, am I?"

Franck of course knew better, but made the weakly amusing comment anyways. Aequatio was, to him, a Western country, and his impression of those lands was that they were replete with what was not often found in Russkya. One example being gangbangers, or actual street gangs.

"Most of the larger cities around Aequatio have locally-maintained militia units, mostly for territorial defence purpose," He explained, pausing to look over at a group of personnel working and turning back to the major, "Since they aren't maintained with the same level of organization as say, the Army Reserves or National Guard, a few militias have been known to be led by corrupt individuals and are a concern for the civilian police forces. We don't expect any trouble, but it's always better to be safe than sorry and end up with an unecessary delay in the schedule."

A group of Kitsune armoured cars arrived with the letters "MP" painted in matte black over the solid tan scheme of the vehicles. A young man with an NCO insignia on his uniform's shoulder opened a door and stepped down, his footwear were a pair of locally-produced tan suede boots which were more comfortable in the desert environment. He approached the two officers, his G65A2 carbine slung over his shoulder and webbing and saluted as he greeted them, "Sergeant First Class Leon Gregor, commanding officer of the MP detachment, reporting for duty."

Major Franck returned SFC Gregor's salute and shook hands with the Aequatian NCO. "Gregor, that's a name we have in Russkya too. The Captain here was just telling me about the militias and how they're not as regulated as the Reserve or National Guard. Any corrupt militia leaders in this area, and any chance of them causing trouble for either of us?" The Russkyan officer addressed this question to both Kirkpatrick and Gregor.

A few meters behind Franck, the staff elements of the Brigade's Headquarters came to the conclusion that aside from two more Zulu Mk.IV tanks and a quartet of L-15IFV vehicles, the Brigade would be ready to move in five minutes, a liberal estimate of the time it would take for them to finish forming up in march columns, a task already mostly complete. Already unit leader briefings were under way. A second briefing was noted and slotted for an introduction of the Aequatian liasion and guides for Company and Battalion commanders. Reconnaissance units moved up to the front of the march columns to lead through the streets, tanks behind, with the Infantry behind those. Finally, the support elements were masked in a sheath of Infantry vehicles at the rear of the column, backed with a final platoon of MBTs. Another Major tapped Franck on the shoulder, speaking in German.

"Whenever you've got it sorted out, you'll have to bring them up to the front of the column where the Company Commander and Battalion Commander meetings are taking place, introduce, explain, ensure route, et cetera."

And with the characteristic efficiency of the Russko-German Corps, the Brigade HQ packed itself away into a series of Command Vehicles which rolled out on their rubber-fitted tracks to their assigned spot in the dual column. Oberst Hofstetter walked to the front of the column to attend the unit briefings, though it wasn't strictly required. Panzergrenadiers and tank-crews sat on or inside their vehicles, a few of them rearranging gear in these few minutes to create a marginally more comfortable storage arrangement.

The sergeant shook his head, "Not any that are bold enough to challenge an armoured column, especially one with those beasts," He said, pointing to one of the Battlewolf tanks, "It should be an uneventful yomp out to the base."

Captain Kirkpatrick looked over the vehicles as his staff managers informed him the same information that the major had, he turned to the Russkyan, "Well, my job is pretty much done here, I'll leave you in the sergeant's capable hands. It was good to meet you," He said saluting and returning to his work.

"My people are ready to go at any time," Said Gregor as he marked off a paper for Kirkpatrick with his signature and saluted before the captain left, "We'll have four lanes all to ourselves, so I'll have my cars move ahead and block the intersections while the column passes."

"That's good then," Franck replied, "As I would hate to have to blow up parts of this fine city. Yes, I do like the Gunnólfr myself - isn't too big, but does look intimidating. Uneventful is good."

Franck returned Kirkpatrick's salute and indicated the front of the column as the Captain left. "Right, Sergeant. Let's head up there and introduce you to the Battalion and Company commanders with your unit, since you'll be leading off." The briefing wasn't far off, and halted as Major Franck and the Aequatian NCO approached. Franck saluted his Colonel and introduced the gathered commanders to the Sergeant First Class, outlined the basic movement order and order of march, then left it to the NCO to elaborate to the gathered officers and senior NCOs how the Aequatian MPs would facilitate this task.

He guided the officers over a map with his finger as he spoke, "My detachment's Kitsunes will be leading the way with vehicles along the side of the convoy to cordon off intersections as it passes by. We'll be taking the entire causeway out to the base and from there on, the Air Force security squadron at the base will take over and get you settled before moving onto the exercise grounds. I know it seems stupid that you'll be handled by the Army, Air Force and Army again, but that's how the orders come down to me. Anyway, let's head out then," He said as he saluted and started off towards his vehicle, placing his carbine in his hand as he shut the door and the armoured car started off towards the front vehicles.

As per their training, Oberst Hofstetter, as the ranking Russkyan officer present in the briefing area, returned SFC Gregor's salute and dismissed the assembled unit and subunit leaders. Panzergrenadier officers and senior NCOs unshouldered their personal weapons and headed back to their vehicles, tank officers gave the arm signal for their tank drivers to start up their engines, and on that cue the engines of every vehicle in the column roared to life.

At the head of the column, the Panzer-aufklaerungs (Armoured Reconnaissance) units moved out behind the Aequatian Military Police, and happy to be moving - at last - Hauptfeldwebel Johan Lossow smiled to himself as he sat on the rim of his Gunnólfr's commander's hatch, communications headset holding an old Deutsche Afrika Korps panzer-sidecap he'd acquired through the memorabilia markets in place. He wasn't the only man with such "antique" headgear, nor was he the only man who thought of themselves as the reincarnation, albeit Russkyan, of the famed DAK.

If nothing else, they were here to learn how to live up to that self-set, privately-kept, thought.

The vehicles moved forward along the street, Sergeant Gregor sat in the passenger side, separated from his driver by a mass of radio equipment on the Kitsune's centerline. He peered out the window back at the column as the vehicles started down the roadway, his own field cap was not-unlike those of the DAK-style caps equipped to the Russkyans as he brought the brim down over his eyes as the car drove, one of the other MP troopers stood at the small turret mounting, leaning against the turret-ring and resting his hand on the wooden buttstock of his loaded MG68 GPMG. Gregor checked his watch as they drove, seventy minutes, he thought as they passed the first intersection as it was already blocked off by MP Rhino armoured carriers.

OOC: Sorry about the delay there.

Lossow pointed out one of the Rhino armoured vehicles to his gunner. The other man wore the loose and comfortable khaki-brown tanker-coveralls designed several decades ago as the arid regions armoured vehicle crewman battledress. Over this uniform, nicknamed the "Panzerkompli," he'd belted his sidearm and on the roof of the vehicle to his right, between him and Lossow, sat a loaded and unmodified MBRS rifle, firing the heavy yet surprisingly quick 9.3x39mm round. His tank commander called out to him;
"Looks like something we could use in Estonavia."
"Ja. They call it "Rhino," I think. The others are Kitsune - we should get some of those for patrol operations as well. Maybe we will learn enough about them that the General puts in a good word and we end up with them in the near future!"

Both men shouted over the noise of dozens of heavy tank engines, comparatively lighter engines on L-15 and L-16 vehicles, and the noise of tracks and wheels on concrete or asphalt as the tanks rolled down through San Alimos. Lossow's Gunnólfr continued on its path, followed by the remainder of its platoon and then the elements of the Cadre that weren't ranging ahead of it.
One of the speed-happy Panzeraufklaerungs drivers gunned his Fennek and ran the vehicle up the side of the march column, the Fennek's commander waving to him from the open roof hatch, MBRS rifle - fitted with a T-03 underbarrel grenade launcher - attached to him via a tactical sling and held firmly with one hand. Lossow and his gunner returned the wave and the vehicle continued forwards to the front of the column as ordered.

Aequatians had always been comfortable with the presence of military personnel and vehicles about, having been such a central piece of the nation's culture since its founding, this meant that many of the denizens of San Allimos were little bothered by the massed Russkyan column passing through the South end of the city. Although a number still managed to line the streets and greet the visitors with waves, cheers and the like as the vehicles moved.

After an hour, most of the column had reached the open highway leading to Peters airbase, the open desert differed much from the confines of the city, allowing a long view out over the sand to the massive plateaus sticking out of the flat terrain. Sergeant Gregor ordered his vehicle forward ahead to reach the front gates of the base ahead of the convoy, the armoured car sped down the road as they approached the gate. One of the Air Force Security troopers walked forward, his G28 rifle slung over his shoulder, "Afternoon, sergeant, brought us more of your dogface cronies?" He said light-heartedly.

"Come on now, Airman, we're only here for a little while," He replied, "Could you direct me to the Army liaison on-base so I can talk with him?"

The trooper nodded as he pointed inside the base, "Yeah, just head down along this main avenue, take a left and there should be one of them to meet you at the operations building."

"Thank you, airman, continue on," Gregor said as he saluted and had it promptly returned before ordering the vehicle forward into the base. The Kitsune halted in front of the building as the sergeant opened the door and was greeted by another Airman with a G28 in-hand, he saluted quickly as he passed through and stepped inside. After a couple of minutes speaking with the officer and handling the procedures, he returned to the vehicle as it made itsway back to the front gate for the arrival of the Russkyans.

Stabsunteroffizer Hans Kohelmann waved from his place on the Zulu Mk. IV main battle tank's turret. He toggled the communication switch on his communications headset and spoke to his driver and commander. The Commander was a Company Commander, Hauptmann's insignia new on his epaulettes and collar.

"Herr Hauptmann, do you think we will be granted leave during the exercises?"
"Most likely, Kohelmann. Yes, I see them too," the officer responded, noting the handful of Aequatian women and waving with his left arm, right hand seemingly glued to the reciever cover of the PKMT machinegun in its Overhead Weapon Station mount. "You were part of that envoy that delivered the reproduction King Tiger to Emperor Sviatov, yes?"
"I was, sir."
"Tell us about that again, then."
"Well sir, we delivered the King Tiger after the driver accidentally rammed it backwards out of the shipping container, instead of forwards, because it was bastard dark in there and no-one had thought to give him a flashlight for some reason. All the same, good times were had by all, except for Yuri. Yuri was one of the reenactors who tried to hit on one of the Kilrany Imperial Guardsmen. She was fucking huge, sir. You know how they're generally only more muscular but still proportioned comparatively to regular women, like these girls here? -" Kohelmann paused to wave at a knot of young girls standing at a street corner - "Yeah, she wasn't. She looked like she could benchpress the both of us and then shotput you a hundred metres, Herr Hauptmann."

The driver, head out of his hatch, keyed his transmit switch. "So what happened to Yuri, Stabsunteroffizer?"
"Ah. Yuri got lucky. It wasn't like he had a choice, though."

--

Cadre Sergeant-Major Balck downed another litre of water before returning to the game of football, or as the Americans called it, soccer. It was a different game, played out on the sands, but certainly helped with acclimatization. He checked his watch quickly and sprinted ahead a few metres to cover a defenceman who was being hounded by a Leutnant and an Oberleutnant as he tried to work the ball forward, away from the goalkeeper. Rest of the unit should be here in maybe two hours more, probably far less, the Oberstabsfeldwebel thought briefly, before returning his full attention to the game: Senior NCOs on Officers, with most of the enlisted men gathered around the edges of the marked playing field.

Captain Kiesel helped his L-15's crew with the job of repainting the "Badger" IFV a solid desert tan, sleeves of his battledress uniform rolled half-back across the forearms as was the Russkyan fashion. He, as well as a number of the others, had already begun to tan under the harsh sun. The loose-fitting and lightweight yet durable combat uniforms were immensely comfortable and seemed festooned with a suitable number of large cargo pockets with cloth internal dividers for magazines or grenades, as was the Russkyan practice. So far none of the engines had issues with the desert sand and grit, but they weren't out on manuevers yet. Kiesel stood on the roof of the mostly-painted Badger, painting the roof of the turret and the ATGM housing. He looked up from his task, hearing the noise of massed engines and tracks, and then back down.

It would appear that the remainder of the cadre had arrived and was waiting at the gate for the liason officers and guides. A vehicle crewman carefully stenciled section, platoon, company, battalion, and brigade numbers onto the machine, adding the vehicle's name below in a cursive script, which read; "Hammer."

Major Concord stood at the edge of the tarmac as he watched the game's progress in the sand, At least they're taking to the climate well, He thought as he continued on towards one of the briefing buildings and retreived himself a bottle of water from one of the Delicious Vendables™ machines sitting in the hallway before walking back out into the sun, the brim of his cap shading his face as he took a drink from the plastic bottle. Soon enough they would be leaving for the proving grounds out in the desert, matching wits against each other in the "Sandbox" as the troopers of the 14th Armoured Division referred to the training area. The major looked down at the water bottle as he began to peel back the label from the clear plastic, the stylized "DV" logo on the front had been something that any Aequatian under the age of thirty could immediately recognize, as the company had grown to prominance and spread its brand of not only vending machines, but the chocolate bars, potato chips, other snacks and a complete line of soft drinks, all produced within Aequatio.

Another flight of F-29A Hurricane tactical fighters lifted off the runway as they flew towards the bomb range laden with guided munitions. The Air Force had chosen a bad time to hold exercies with the combined Army exercise with the Russkyans and the deployment of several units overseas.

"Franck?"
"Ja, Herr Oberst?"
"Tell the Feldgendarmerie to dismount and start directing the Brigade into their quarters. Laager the vehicles per SOP. Tell the air-defence boys they're not to shoot down those fast-movers yet. And I think I will go put a call in and see when Brigadegeneral Ostarhilde can arrive."
"Jawohl."

Oberst Hofstetter walked back towards one of the command variations of the Badger IFVs, using the satellite communications array to contact Russkya and inquire as to his commanding officer's status. Meanwhile, Franck used the encrypted HQ band to transmit the orders to the Feldgendarmerie, whose armbands bore the abbreviation "FG / MP." He passed a clerk who flipped through the Order of Battle books to find the precise designation of the FG unit that would be deploying. The ORBAT read:


Overall Commander:
- Brigadegeneral (Brigadier General) Hans Ostarhilde
Executive Officer:
- Oberst (Colonel) Pavel Hofstetter
Cadre Sergeant Major:
- Oberstabsfeldwebel (Chief Warrant Officer) Paul Balck

Brigade
- BDE HQ & Signals Coy (Inc. Electronic Warfare Abteilung)
- Sanitäts-Kompanien (Medical Coy) No. 423 (From Support Unit B)
- Mechanical Detatchment No. 211 (From Support Unit A)
- Feldgendarmerie Trupp (Field Police / Military Police Troop) No. 4 (Support Unit B)

Combat Battalion No. 1
- 1 Bn Panzergrenadier from Panzergrenadier Division No. 921 "von Brasche", "Der Krieglied" PzGrn Regiment.
- 1 BDE Panzer from Panzerdivisionen No. 30, Panzer Regiment 'Götz von Berlichingen'.
- 1 Engineering Demibattalion from PzDiv No. 30.

Combat Battalion No. 2
- 1 Coy Heavy Tank, from Schwere-Panzer Battalion No.2 "B", Schwere-Panzer Brigade "Michael Wittmann".
- 1 Coy Gebirgsjäger, from Gebirgsjäger Divison No. 1 "Edelweiss"
- 1 Bn Panzergrenadier from Panzergrenadier Division No. 921
- Panzer-Aufklärungs-Abteilung C, from Aufklärungs Brigade "Florian Geyer"

Abteilung "Alfa" (Supporting)
- Flak-Abteilung No. 1, from Combat Support Group No. 1 "Sturmwind"
- Panzerjäger-Abteilung No. 1, from CSG No. 1 "Sturmwind"
- Panzer Artillerie Regiment No. 2, from CSG No. 3
- 1 Squadron Assault Helicopter (Mi-24P-R)


The Feldgendarmerie moved to assist the Aequatian MPs and Air Force personnel in directing the Brigade to its temporary homes. By nightfall, the unit would be settled in and commencing familiarization and acclimatization.

The next morning following the completed arrival of the Russkyan brigade group, a number of vehicles arrived at the entrance of the building housing the command elements of the Russkyan force. In place of the usual Arid Region Disruptive Pattern boonie hats or field caps, these soldiers wore basic tan, representing a training unit. They belonged to the Training Detachment from the 14th Armoured Division and would pass on simple instructional procedures for the other commanding officers concerning keeping their forces well supported in the field when at the proving grounds in the maneuvers exercise.

A team led by a Master Sergeant, an assisting Sergeant First Class and consisting of three Staff Sergeants and a number of assisting corporals were attached across the several mechanized infantry companies within the Russkyan brigade. They would be directing a number of exercises which would help the soldiers, or panzergrenadiers as they appeared to be preferred classed, cope better with the desert climate once out in the field and "fighting" against a most uncooperative OPFOR that was 1st Brigade, 14th Armoured Division. A number of officers, a handful of Lieutenant-Colonels supported by Majors from several MOS fields would brief the Russkyan officers on intelligence gathering, reconnaissance, small unit tactics and maneuvering strategies specific to the desert terrain, as well as discuss their own strategies in hopes of transfering an already capable cadre into a premiere unit of desert fighters.

Master Sergeant Joaquin "Rock" Rogers stepped out from the passenger seat of the Cougar HMMWV as it came to a halt by the assembly area for his assigned company for training. His assistants, all younger NCOs from the division's mounted infantry battalions, would be best suited for the job of helping the soldiers better known for lurking in the trees of great forests find their strength in the orange sands of the Western Desert. He fixed his Tan beret as he stepped forward towards the headquarters platoon's area, his worn leather holster carrying a shined silver-plated P9A2 sidearm.

Under a large tent, those normally used by the Aequatian Republic Army for mess halls in the field, a large grouping of Russkyan officers sat in rows of folding chairs behind mess tables as a group of Aequatian officers, mostly majors with a few lieutenant-colonels, stood or sat in folding chairs of their own in front of a long line of photographs, manuever charts and other notes posted to whiteboards. Brigadier James Harrison, the commanding officer of the training detachment stood at the microphone as he spoke, "Greetings, gentlemen, today we all get to learn how to play Rommel."

The officers of the Panzergrenadier battalion in question consisted of First Lieutenants (Oberleutnants), Captains (Hauptmanns), and the Major in command of the formation. The Lieutenants (Leutnants) were afield with their platoons, attempting to adapt their own tactics and learn new tactics suitable for the concealment-less expanses of the Western Desert.
Outside this large and repurposed mess-hall tent, the command vehicles of the various Kompanies and the Battalion's HQ element were parked, their crews beginning to make notes on what would need to be done in order to ensure their reliable function in arid region environments: at the moment, it seemed that a more effective filter to protect the engine's intakes from these smaller particles of sand and dust were required.

Stefan Nikolaievich Mannesmann, the Major commanding the battalion, held his salute through Brigadier Harrison's introduction. Behind him, the battalion's officers stood at attention infront of their chairs, staring straight ahead in their neatly-ordered rows and columns. Their notepads and similar tools were tucked into the bellows pockets of their arid regions combat uniforms, one of the pieces of kit that the Russkyans had somehow managed to get near-perfectly right without previous practical experience of combat in the desert.

It would appear that the cadre would be recieving the training it had arrived for. The professional soldiers were eager and intent to undergo it, and their Aequatian colleagues seemed just the troops to provide it.

In the desert, Oberfeldwebel Frank Nielsmann stood next to his reconnaissance vehicle, part of the reconnaissance subunit that had been temporarily attached to the first "undergoing training" battalion from Panzer-Aufklärungs-Abteilung C. His vehicle was parked next to an L-15, one of the nearby platoon's vehicles, the Panzergrenadiers in full combat equipment, watching the Aequatian cadre approach. Unsure of when the training would actually start and fully expecting a rude surprise like that from the instructors at NORDLAND, the entire platoon spread out into an outwards-facing "wedge" formation.

Brigadier Harrison returned the salute to the cadre officers as he started to outline what was to be covered, "The most important concept for you all to follow at your levels of command is the gathering of intelligence, your geological and recconaissance units attached to your force should be busy at work, although being able to capture maps from your opposing force will be your best source of information. Your M.I. and Recce personnel will be tasked with creating what are called "Traversability Maps" in Aequatian services which will be made available to your headquarters and they will contain the following," He used a laser pointer on a large projection screen on the requirements for the maps.

o Terrain that could be traversed by any type of vehicle in all parts and in all directions.
o Terrain outside the Pistes* (*tracks) that was moderately or poorly suited for vehicular traffic.
o Terrain with many steep cliffs.
o Salty swamps and depressions that were impassable after rain.
o Sand dunes that were difficult for vehicular traffic.
o Information on plant growth.
o Broken terrain.
o Impassable cliffs.
o Cliffs that were less steep and that could be traversed in numerous places.
o Passes over the cliffs, with information as to whether they could be used by wheeled or only tracklaying vehicles.
o Trails, with information as to their usability for wheeled or tracklaying vehicles.

"Intelligence of your terrain and your enemy will be the most influencial factor in the tempo of your operations, poor intelligence will only hinder operations in an already hostile environment and cause you an increased number of unnecessary casualties," Explained Harrison as he continued, "Your most important assets, at least upon initially starting desert operations will be your human and geospatial intelligence personnel and equipment, especially your recce troops. Now then, even though it is important that not only your command elements become aware of the situation within the area of operations, but it is also necessary to provide your individual soldiers with the necessary navigational equipment so that they can effectively follow your orders, no need in knowing where the objective is only to have your maneuver forces become lost en route and scattered in the featureless desert. Although systems can be mostly replaced with computerized networks with information provided by satellites, UAVs and recce units, there is no harm in giving troops an effective, although analog, redundancy in the form of helicopter compasses to mount in vehicles such as jeeps and transport trucks and personal compasses given out to each soldier, preferably a standard compass floating in oil, much like the modernized British models each carried by Aequatian soldiers today."

"When it comes to your choices in deployed weaponry, range is the most important factor to consider. Marksmen and anti-tank weapons are best suited for these operations, considering a scoped rifle and a trained hand will wreck havock on an enemy formation and the range offered by anti-tank missiles compared to tank guns. However, this does not mean you should not consider armour at all obsolete. As proven in numerous conflicts in the past, such as the 1940-43 North African campaign, 1973 Yom Kippur War and Operations Desert Sword/Sabre in 1991. Your tanks will be the most effective maneuver element, provided you have the fuel and personnel to maintain them, giving you considerable firepower and initiative against an enemy."

"To finish, I will leave you all with a few important notes of mention, you should strive to concentrate his own forces with respect to time and space, while, at the same time, attempting to scatter his opponents and defeat them one at a time. Luckily, the terrain, especially in the Western Desert, offers unlimited possibilities for such action. Supply routes in the open desert are unusually vulnerable. A commander should protect his own supply routes with all available forces and try to destroy or cut off those of the enemy. Operations across the enemy's lines of communications can often force him to break off an attack at another point, since the supply system is essential for combat and therefore must be protected above all else. The armored troops are the backbone of the motorized army. Everything depends on the tank; the other units are there merely to support it. Therefore, the battle of attrition against the enemy armored units must be fought as much as possible by one's own tank-destroyer units. One's armored troops should deliver the final thrust. Data collected by intelligence and recce should reach the command in the shortest possible time, and the command should make its decisions and convert them into action as quickly as possible. The commander who reacts the quickest wins the battle as it is the speed of one's own movements and the organizational unity of the troops that decides the battle and deserves special attention, since desert terrain places hardly any obstacles in the way of swift movements. It is of great importance to conceal one's intentions. Deception maneuvers should be encouraged by all means, in some cases to make the enemy commander uncertain and induce him to resort to caution and delay.

And finally, when the enemy has been thoroughly beaten, the attempt can be made to exploit one's success by overtaking and destroying major elements of his defeated units. Here, too, speed in exploiting unobstructed desert terrain is everything. It is necessary to reorganize one's forces for the pursuit as rapidly as possible, as well as to reorganize the supply system quickly for the offensive units. Any questions from this point on can be directed to one of my assistants and we will help in clear up any misunderstandings."

Two men from the Russkyan Strategic Doctrine Analysis and Studies Centre, or RSDASC, were attached to the Stabskompanie (Staff element) of the Cadre. They immediately noted the difference in doctrines; for the Aequatians it would appear that the armour was the backbone and that all else was designed to support the armour's operations. This was in direct conflict with the Russkyan doctrine in which the Infantry were the backbone and all else exists to support them.
However, it was possible that in the desert things would change substantially - unlike the temperate environments of all kinds that the Russkyans were traditionally organized and trained to fight in, the desert did not present cover or concealment for the Infantryman, thus increasing his vulnerability, and no IFV or APC had the protection or armament of a MBT. Simultaneously but not actually with the operations staff, the RSDASC men began plotting out the ideal organizations of "Battlegroups" that would serve for offensive operational manuever units in this new combat environment.

One of the Hauptmanns, commander of a Panzergrenadier Kompanie, mentally catalogued his equipment and what would function best in the desert. It would be obvious that the MBRS rifles needed to be issued with their COSA-2 optics, that the sustained-fire kit for section machineguns would always have to be carried, and that the vehicle with its ATGM launcher would become a valuable asset.

Fortunately the basic principles of operations weren't immensely different from operations in any other area. The major key would be to adapt to the environment and develop methods of deceptive or concealed manuever, as Russkyan units were woefully unused to operating in environments where they could not conceal themselves.
Equipment-wise, nothing appeared to be breaking yet. Information on the environment and arid regions environments around the world would prompt the development of a new desert combat uniform of the same cut and material but in a camouflage pattern, and a standardized camouflage pattern for vehicles and equipment as well. Harrison spoke to the inner pragmatist of every Russkyan when he spoke about analog navigational aids. One of the Stabskompanie, an Intelligence Officer, stood to attention with a brief list of questions in his left hand.

Harrison acknowledged the intelligence officer as he stood up, "Yes, lieutenant, what are your questions? If I can't answer them, I'm sure one of my assistants can."

Outside, many of the training NCOs from the 14th Division began showing many of the Russkyan infantry a few of the simple tasks which helped combat the arid climate of the Western Desert. Master Sergeant Rogers approached his assigned unit and greeted the Russkyans in their kit, admiring the L16 variant parked next to the IFV, it resembled the M1184 recce vehicle and he smiled to himself before approaching the respective company, "Now then, who's in charge here?"

Oberleutnant Hans Jugendmann barely consulted the list of questions and with the clipped English accent he had began to speak. "Danke, Herr Brigadier. The questions I have are as follows: May myself and my comrades acquire a number of these British-type compasses your forces are issued with? Also, according to Aequatian experience, what is the optimal distribution of navigational aids? Presumably each Section and Platoon will be issued with detailed maps, but should this trickle down to Fireteam level? Thirdly, overhead imagery acquired via UAV will be more difficult to interpret in this environment with regards to terrain. Will it be possible to 'borrow' a number of your UAV and intelligence personnel to train our own in interpretation of this data?"

Jugendmann, not for the first time, mentally cursed his difficulty with speaking less 'formal' English.

Nielsmann, in the absence of the Leutnant who was currently working with Number Three and Four sections, was the ranking NCO present. He greeted Master Sergeant Rogers with a handshake and introduced himself as "Senior Sergeant Frank Nielsmann, temporarily commanding this reconnaissance patrol as well as this Panzergrenadier section." Three vehicles were present; the L-15IFV, L-16CRV, and modified Fennek, sans a crewmember (Nielsmann himself) who stood with his MBRS rifle strapped to him via its tactical sling, left hand resting on the foregrip.

The brigadier was happy to see the officers willing to ask questions, too many former training partners were too proud to seem ignorant in front of superior officers and ended up lost in the middle of the dustbowl, calling for rescue over the emergency channel. He addressed the first question, "For individual compasses, Aequatian desert units provide a compass to each soldier as a part of their kit, larger compasses installed in vehicles are also part of a standardization loadout for most arid region vehicles, along with climate control system, increased fuel capacity tanks and water storage. As for maps, I'll direct you to Majors Ingram and Mann, from intelligence and unmanned aviation respectively."

Major Ingram rose to his feet as the Brigadier took a seat, "We'll be providing a number of people for your own intelligence teams to analyze the information collected by the UAVs. Major Mann here will also detach a number of his own men to help with your personnel."

Outside, Master Sergeant Rogers returned the handshake, "Nice to meet you, senior sergeant, shall we get started then? I want to have your people in a line so we can discuss personal procedures."

"Thank you again, Brigadier." The Oberleutnant nodded acknowledgement at both Majors and sat down again.

Behind Jugendmann, three or four officers made notes in their olive-drab covered notepads. One of the officers, a logistician by trade, began to sketch out plans for water transport and water resupply procedures: Generally in temperate and even alpine climates water was available, meaning that the simple purification tablets or even the larger purification trucks were capable of handling water needs for as much as a full battalion of soldiers, but that wouldn't be the case here. The officer was reading a book titled "Panzer Commander" by a former Colonel Hans von Luck, which detailed the Oberst's experiences in North Africa as especial interest to the "Desert Cadre." He had no particular interest in attempting to fight Aequatians away from various watering holes and the like, and the logistician also knew he wasn't the only officer who had a copy of von Luck's memoirs.

Outside, Nielsmann signalled for the section to stand easy and dismount vehicles, where applicable. Another hand signal and the soldiers converged on him, forming a single line with the flanks bending around slightly in a shallow "U" with Rogers at the centre, all men facing inwards. An open-palm gesture, back of the hand towards the ground from Nielsmann indicated that Rogers could proceed as he wished. The section's machinegunner, "Stormwind" GPMG held in one hand by the carrying handle, let the weapon rest on the ground, stock in the sand, muzzle held aloft by the bipod.

The lectures continued within the tent, each of the specialty officers providing the Russkyans with their expertise on their chosen careers, allowing for their allies to take many notes and ask all th questions they wished, with Brigadier Harrison interjecting with his own command experiences when the opportunity arose, providing a more human touch to the lessons being bestowed.

Meanwhile, Rogers looked around at the soldiers that had assembled around him and his training assistants. He nodded to the sergeant as he started, "The most important thing you can remember in operating within the desert is to remain hydrated, standard procedures within the Aequatian Army is to provide each soldier with a total of one litre of water every hour during the daylight hours. As excessive as this might seem to a regularly temperate force, you will find that it's required in the field to maintain a relatively healthy force."

It was then that one of the corporals handed the master sergeant a canvas bag and Rogers produced one of the bonnie hats with an attached hood printed in the destinctive Aequatian Arid Region Digital Pattern, "The second most important concern you will have in the desert is the sun and heat, you can remain as hydrated as possible, however, if you are not protected against the heat of the sunlight, you will suffer and become ineffective due to heat stroke. Keep yourself well-covered and take advantage of natural shade as best you can, especially on the outside of your vehicles, as staying within them will only expose you to an even hotter interior."

The master sergeant replaced the hat in the bag and handed it back to one of the corporals as he pointed at one of the L-15 vehicles, "Sand and dust, blown up by the wind, will be your vehicle's greatest enemy other than munitions. If you aren't careful, the foreign object damage caused by these elements will mean more time spent in depot-level engine change outs than actual combat, and if you're like my boys, that'll drive you absolutely crazy. Now as you might not have specialized air filters like those installed in the 14th Armoured's Mackalls, Spartans and UNISUVs, we can make due with a few "interim" substitutes," He said as Rogers summoned another of his corporals who produced a plastic package of women's pantyhose, much to the collective laughter from the Russkyans before silenced by the master sergeant, "This material will stand up fairly well to the heat and will help greatly in decreasing the amount of sand and dust being sucked into the engines of your vehicles, use a standard knife or bayonet to cut it into strips so you can work them into bands you can secure over the air intakes," He said, handing out the package to Nielsmann, "One pair should be enough for a single air filter, just be economical with the material."

"Well, we do have air-conditioning. And unless the Leutnant took it, we also have a cooler rigged to the interior roof of the troop bay in the L-15, but that's not an official modification." Nielsmann took the pantyhose and tossed it underhand to the driver of the L-16CRV, who proceeded to clamber over his vehicle attaching it to intake vents, tossing the remainder to the crews of the L-15IFV and Fennek. He continued. "When stationary, it would be a good idea to carry poles and wires as well as a kind of half-tent to rig to the vehicle for shade. Our ground-sheets should provide good top-cover if we have to dig in, as well."

The gunner of the L-15 opened one of the cargo pockets on his uniform and withdrew a tan 'shemaugh,' unfolding it as he spoke.
"A litre of water sounds like a metric fuckton, it'll rival or probably exceed fuel consumption. How much do you recommend we try to keep in and or on the vehicle, Master Sergeant? As much as we can?"

"Exterior storage on vehicles is also good to have, if you can install anything to keep personal kit and other necessary equipment on the outside of your vehicles," He said, "Aequatian vehicles are usually fitted with exterior baskets to carry rucks, heavy equipment and weapons."

"Two canteens on your LBE or LBVs full at the minimum, although you will want to maintain a constant supply of water which you can drink from without having to constantly resort to your canteens," Rogers explained as he examined the L-15 vehicles, "The cooler is an all right addition, although you'll want something closer to a keg-style container which can be easily refilled."

Nielsmann and the other Russko-Germans were now covered with shemaugh, fieldcap, "boonie hats," sunglasses, or the issued goggles that were tinted black, were quite large, and securely held in place by a wide headband. They were ventilated as well, and the intent had been for vehicle crews to protect their faces with shemaugh, goggles, and the "Combat Helmet; Vehicle Crewman's" (CHVC as it was referred to in most documentation). Overall, the Russkyans had taken the lesson "Stay out of the sunlight" well to heart. The last of the pantyhose was used on the intakes of the L-15IFV, and the crew of the "Badger" rejoined the line only to have Nielsmann dispatch the Unteroffizer back to the vehicle to retrieve the "special package" in the cooler. He addressed the Aequatians and their Master Sergeant in particular.

"I agree with you that the large keg-like system would work best, our new "Nizhom" heavy APC has something quite like that. We'll rig those into our vehicles in the near future, the real advantage of the cooler in this machine is that we can carry more than just water. In this case, good beer."

Nielsmann turned and gestured grandly with his left arm, holding the pose for a few seconds while staring at the L-15. He sighed and dropped his arm. "This is why I didn't go to acting school. My sense of timing is horrible." Muffled by the interior of the Badger, despite all hatches being open, an alarmed shout, a curse, a loud thud, and then the Unteroffizer stumbled out carrying two nondescript cardboard cases. "Still good! We're still good! Cooler's on the deck now, but we're still good. Beer's fine. Now which one of you fuckers fit an entire five kilo bag of ice in there ontop of the beer, because that wedged it in and nearly broke my legs when I tried to get it out, tipping the bastard cooler free from its mountings."

The junior NCO put the cases down in the sand and went on in a falsetto voice, mocking one of his comrades. "Well I know it's secure, Unteroffizer, we fixed it with the metal brackets to the comms-mounting and we all know that doesn't come loose." He took a breath. "Yeah, never comes loose my ass. These BDUs are indestructible, or I'd have a long tear in my trouser-leg here. Now I'm going to have local women asking me how the fuck I got a cooler-handle-shaped bruise on my thigh. How the fuck do I explain that? Oh, well this battle scar was picked up when I kneed an Aequatian Master Sergeant in the groin during hand to hand combat drills and his Testicles of Steel bruised my thigh. Yes, that'll work real well."

Over the laughter of the Badger's driver, at whom the mockery had been directed, Frank Nielsmann shrugged, saying; "Well, moral of this story is that we'll have to figure out a better mounting for that keg, Master Sergeant. Side-rack storage should be easy enough, as would vehicle roof stowing, but that has me concerned about shrapnel or weapons fire puncturing the water tanks or the like. Any suggestions?"

The master sergeant paused only momentarily as he examined the interior passenger compartment of the modified desert Spartans, remembering where the water storage was placed, "On the Spartan, personal weapon ammunition for rifles and light machineguns was taken out to make more room for water, which was seen as something more important, since most fighting in the desert occurs mounted and by the vehicles themselves. The M4A3 mounts small tanks underneath the infantry benches, providing them with a relatively safe place against penetration or spall damage and can be easily retrieved should the vehicle become inoperable and the crew and passengers have to wait for recovery by the FSB boys."

The team of Aequatian corporals laughed at the discussion of the 'Aequatian Testicles of Steel' while one of the staff sergeants looked over the cooler itself mounted in the L-15IFV, "It's a normal, civie cooler, sarne," He said to Rogers, "Nothing like the standardized equipment we have back in the Spartans, but it will more than do for this exercise."

"Excellent," Said the master sergeant as he turned to the edge of the tarmac and looked out over the sand, "Form up!" He shouted as his team assembled behind him and he turned to the Russkyans, "The engineer company that arrived with us has been nice enough to construct some counter-mobility training aids for all of you to try and defeat," As Rogers explained as he walked, the corporals were busy setting up one of the M2 tripods behind a small sandbag bunker as the master sergeant led the Russkyans to an area fenced off with red plastic tape, "Here we have the first obstacle, this, gentlemen, is a minefield, it is ten metres across and thirty metres long with a density of two green smoke mines per square metre, setting them off will let me know which of you will have letters sent home. And to make it challenging, the nice corporals over there have decided to put you under fire with an MG68E1 loaded with paint rounds in a sustained fire mount. Navigate the field, keep low... and don't worry, even Aequatians have suffered an appaling 'casualty' rate in their first go at this exercise," Rogers walked over to the bunker as one of the corporals pulled back the firing bolt on the GPMG with a loud announcement that the weapon was ready.

Two of the Russkyan NCOs made a quick note on their pads to develop an under-seat water tank for vehicle stowage and useage and acquire suitably cooled kegs in the meantime. Nielsmann, being in command of the patrol and temporary command of the section, convened a quick O-Group with his fellow NCOs. Two minutes of conversation focused around that this was to be a dismounted section attack with Reconnaissance breaching the field and Panzergrenadiers in overwatch, the general understanding that they had free reign to breach the obstacle provided that they didn't simply bypass the designated area. Given that the Aequatian GPMG had yet to open fire and scythe down his troops who were currently deployed in an all-around defence around their vehicle's laager site, it was assumed that attempting to breach the obstacle would result in a hail of low-velocity vegetable-dye being hurled at his soldiers.

Three hand signals and the crew of the "Vixen" were dismounted and prepared for dismounted combat, forming up behind him in a staggered column formation. He waved forward a man to take the "Point" position, disengaged the safety on his rifle after ensuring it was loaded with blanks, as did all of the Russkyans, and the Panzergrenadiers broke into two fireteams, setting up their GPMG on its bipod on the right of the Recce troops, and the other team setting up on the left and just slightly forward of the Recce soldiers. Nielsmann heard the distinctive sound of two T-03 underbarrel grenade launcher being loaded, and he ordered his section forward.

Nielsmann and his dismounted Recce troops spread into a shallow "wedge" to breach a suitably wide gap in the minefield, shuffling along slowly on their stomachs, using their combat knives or bayonets to gently prod the sand at a forty-five degree angle, attempting to find the buried devices without triggering them. At that moment, the Aequatian MG68E1 opened fire, effectively freezing the dismounted Panzer-Aufklärungs troops in their tracks. Two immediately became casualties, one with a burst that tracked down from hip to knee, and the other was effectively "dead," with four marks stitched along the side of his torso. The response from the Panzergrenadiers was instant - the "Sturmwind" GPMG opened fire in controlled bursts of fifteen rounds, blanks meant to simulate unissued low-velocity paint rounds that would force the crew to keep heads down, and then two 'thumps' as the T-03 UBGLs threw smoke canisters infront of the machinegun position, a bright red cloud forming in seconds.

Nielsmann threw another red smoke canister to his front to mask his section, and under the covering fire of the Russkyan GPMG the other Panzergrenadiers advanced via bounding overwatch of battle-pairs to the "KIA" and "WIA," evacuating them to the casualty collection point behind the inactive vehicles. The recce troops continued searching a lane through the minefield, heard the machinegun cease fire as it was reloaded - the expected slackening in fire non-existant as rifles, denied a target, began firing to continue suppressing the Aequatian gun crew, ceasing fire as the GPMG was reloaded with a fresh belt of blanks - small neon-orange triangular flags marked discovered landmines, and as the Recce troops fired at the Aequatian MG position frontally with individual weapons, the PzGrn fireteam switched positions and resumed firing, producing an enfilade fire on the Aequatian position. The Recce troops bounded forwards again, and the other PzGrn team, not equipped with the GPMG, headed through the minefield in a crouch-run, their NCO pausing briefly to throw another smoke canister from a kneeling position to continue obscuring the view of the GPMG. Two Panzergrenadiers also became casualties, both "KIAs." Having successfully breached the obstacle, the Russkyans continued the firefight.

This was achieved with the Recce troops reloading and storming the Aequatian GPMG position under covering fire from the "through the field" fireteam, as the Russkyan GPMG was forced to cease fire before endangering friendly units. Another smoke canister into the GPMG sandbag bunker, this time white to denote a fragmentation grenade instead of an actual obscuring smoke can, followed by the surviving Panzer-Aufklärungs storming the position, firing quick double-taps into anything wearing the Aequatian desert camouflage pattern. Nielsmann knelt and threw the still-emitting smoke canister out of the sandbagged bunker as one of his fellows threw the other canisters over to where the white smoke had landed and began burying them in sand to cease their "burn." The Oberfeldwebel called in over his PRR, ordering the Panzergrenadiers to regroup and commence defusing the landmines and tallying the "Butcher's Bill" - a list of those killed or wounded in the engagement. The machinegunner reloaded his partially-spent belt, the brass cartridge casings gleaming in the sunlight beside his weapon and also prone assistant gunner, whose MBRS rifle lay close at hand as he peeled open another ammunition "can."

The corporals stood at their still smoking MG68E1, a pile of collected casings from the 8.5mm paint rounds, the junior NCOs were divided among those who had been "killed" by the false fragmentation grenade and those who had been overrun by the assault forces. Master Sergeant Rogers applauded, "Well done, all, well done," He said as the soldiers assembled and the debriefing took place, the Russkyans received both praise and criticism from the veteran NCO before they moved onto the next training area, a firing range complete with fighting holes, grenade bunkers and a long-range firing zone.

He picked up a G28A1 rifle without a magazine from a small wooden table and turned to the soldiers standing around him, "Now I know this isn't your rifle, but the lessons should transfer just fine," He said as he pulled the charging bolt and slide the top of the receiver off the weapon and set it down on the table, revealing the weapon's firing mechanism, "While oiling the weapon is necessary to keep it functioning, procedures dating back to Aequatio's time using the old Mk.4, No.1 Lee Enfield, that a soldier only uses as much oil as deemed necessary to keep the weapon functioning or almost none at all, as the sand tends to stick very well to the fluid and will not only jam your weapon worse, but piss your QM people off even more when they have to machine you new parts," He explained as he assembled the rifle and loaded one of the magazines with a red band of tape over it, "Sighting in the desert, especially interior zones, will be difficult in the daylight hours because of the heat coming off the ground. It will cause the air to become wavy as the heat rises which will either obscure targets or even make them seem moving, proper sighting applies more to anti-tank gunners especially since tracking their target is important. After about one thousand metres, your view will become even more obscured without the aid of a thermal or night vision system, especially when it applies to IFF procedures. Unfortunately, there are not many remedies other than using advanced sighting systems other than closing range to identify your targets to engage."

Near-instinct screamed at the Russkyans at the single thought of potential damage to their weapons. Almost as one, they immediately stripped off their shemaughs, laying them out flat on the sand and immediately unloading and field-stripping their rifles down to basic components, wiping the oil off the parts with rags carried for the purpose by each individual soldier. Most of the troops carried these rags in small plastic bags to protect their uniforms from the rag, and the rag from grime, as it was used to carefully apply the oil to various parts of their rifle. Thus cleaned of oil and any minimal dirtying built up by the mock engagement a few minutes before, the Russkyans snapped their weapons back together again and re-donned their shemaughs, the marginally dirtied side facing outwards.

"Okay," Nielsmann began. He turned, indicating one of the Reconnaissance troops who'd been "killed" by the Aequatian fire and one of the Panzergrenadiers who'd "survived" the earlier engagement. "Saunders, Theil, go get live ammunition, COSA-Twos, and help Auster get the sustained fire mount and some live belts for our Stormwind." Three soldiers peeled off and jogged back to the vehicles a few dozen meters away; they would return much more slowly, burdened with the weight of ammunition and gear.

"Well, Master Sergeant, if you're up for it we can check out each other's weapons, trade on and off every few magazines. I've plenty of live 9.3 of both varieties in the back of my vehicles. As to antitank and the like; standard passive night vision equipment will work as well as infrared sighting gear? We have both available on our tanks, I know this, but the Panzerjägers may not. Does this also apply to Infantry equipment, or just the more powerful viewers on the vehicles?"

"I wouldn't mind giving your weapon a try, I've been told the 9.3 kicks like a bad pregnant woman," He said with a smile, "Passive night vision will work only at night, as the daylight hours will obscure your vision even more. The best sight to use is an infrared thermal viewer with dual polarity to provide increased effectiveness in acquiring targets. If it's possible, it's best to equip each of your soldiers and vehicles with the option for both thermal and night vision. On this range, there have been targets set up at different distances between fifty and five hundred metres. Long-range shooting will be taken between three hundred and a thousand metres and will consist of both human-sized targets and vehicles for anti-tank gunners."

"She's not that bad. Like a PMS'ing ballerina punching you - I've been to the ballet, and those women have very nice legs, it'd hurt if they kicked you. 9.3x64 can kick like a mule though, put on the Stormwind it's not too bad, a bit more distinct on the SVD-K, though, but we don't have one here with us at the moment, more's the pity." Nielsmann handed over his MBRS rifle after checking to ensure that the safety was on. The weapon was fitted with nothing but attached iron sights to the top rail. Behind the NCO, the GPMG's crew affixed their weapon to its sustained fire mounting, affixed the optic, and loaded the machinegun. They would begin engaging man sized targets at about eight hundred meters.

The L-16 and L-15 rolled up closer to the firing line, the Fennek already in position. The vehicle commander stuck his head out of the hatch to check on the heavy BRG-15 machinegun in its mounting, patted the weapon once on its reciever and ducked back inside the vehicle. Panzergrenadiers spread out into a firing line and shouldered loaded rifles, one man laying down a GWS.81 "Weasel" LAW beside him before kneeling and resting his left elbow on his left knee, sitting back on his right haunch as he shouldered his rifle, fitted with the COSA-2 optic, much like the Canadian C-79A2 "ELCAN" sight. Like the C-79A2, the COSA-2 was noticably improved from the original.

Nielsmann reached back and clicked his radio through frequency presets until he found the one he was looking for, ordering the vehicle gunners to fire at their discretion, and allowing the Panzergrenadiers to do the same. The GPMG was first, and tracers - one loaded every ten rounds in this particular belt - flew lazily downrange and bisected their targets. The hammering noise of the GPMG was them replaced with the sharper individual cracks of the MBRS rifles, and as every man burnt off the last of his magazine, junior NCOs ordered "Staggered Burst" fire as part of a practice drill to ensure that a section could keep up a sustained fire on an area target without more than two men out of the entire section reloading at the same time. In order to do that, one man fired a few rounds, then another did, and so on and so forth until the first man fired again. It also worked on full automatic and with other weapons as well. The second variation of this drill, which the GPMG and the Fennek vehicle were carrying out between themselves, was simply for one man to open fire, and then the other to open fire as much as fifteen seconds later, which would ensure that the first had time to reload when his magazine ran dry. Et cetera.

The automatic cannons held their fire for the nonce, and one of the vehicle crewmen stuck his head out of the hatch, then both arms, fingers touching above his head, elbows braced on the side of the hatch. Instinctually, Nielsmann checked to ensure every man was wearing his shemaugh and goggles, and this being the case, he waved his right arm once at the crewman who ducked back down inside and let loose with a "Roc" ATGM.

Rogers traded the G28A1 with Nielsmann for his MBRS, he examined the weapon before taking a stance at one of the open spots in the firing line before switching the rifle to semi-automatic and taking shots at a few of the targets downrange. The weapon kicked hard, reminding him much of the 8.5mm round fired by the Aequatian G70 battle rifle, but it was more than managable as he placed many of the rounds square on the target's center. The Russkyans were allowed to get used to firing and sighting their weapons before being debriefed on future care for their weapons in the arid environment. At the end, Rogers stood before his attached group, "Tomorrow will be night-time navigational training, especially for you recce guys, however, until twenty three hundred you have liberty and will be provided passes and transport into San Allimos. You're dismissed."

The unexpected news of passes and furlough in San Allimos measurably brightened prospects for the night, and the dismissed troops rode back to their kasernes in the air-conditioned comfort of their vehicles. This had the side effect of forcing each vehicle to "button up" for the environmental control system to be effective, but this was considered to be a "training drive under arid region conditions" and had the notable bonus of keeping the returning units cool and in shade.

Various companies and platoons checked between each other and it was determined that Number Two Battalion had earned the passes for the night, having performed the best during training. This was no real suprise, their Infantry component was comprised predominantly of Gebirgsjaeger, arguably one of the top ten elite units in the entirety of the Russkyan Military that weren't classed as a "Special or Unconventional Operations force."

Debriefings were conducted with all knowledge pooled, memorized, and lessons learnt applied as best they could be at all levels, from Brigade to Fireteam.

Arrangements for the night were set, with most troops conducting refresher training and some PT at dusk, and one full platoon of Panzergrenadiers with red armbands attacked another platoon of Panzergrenadiers, equipped with green armbands, in an all-out melee combat training exercise that looked incredibly brutal but resulted in barely any bruises, let alone bloodshed, dislocations, or broken bones. Morale raised by games of (non-American) football, "murderball," melee combat exercises, and a stone-bottled beer issue, the troops who weren't going on liberty settled back to enjoy local television and radio or rest. Those who were, formed up by platoons and waited for Aequatian transport to arrive.

A parade of forty massive M939A5 5-ton transport trucks pulled into the assembly area for Number Two Battalion in order to transit the Russkyans into one of the government-sanctioned entertainment zones of San Allimos, where they would be allowed general freedom, with limited overwatch from a joint Aequatian/Russkyan MP force. Sergeant First Class Gregor sat in the passenger seat of his Kitsune armoured car, his rifle replaced with an M12A1 shotgun loaded with non-lethal rounds as a small single-shot M206A1 grenade launcher sat inside the vehicle, next to CS gas grenades and concussion munitions, It's going to be a long night, He thought as he looked over at the grenadiers embark onto the large trucks.

Frank Nielsmann found himself in the same M939A5 truck as Johan Lossow, who like the vast majority of his fellow "Schwere-Panzer" kameraden still wore his desert-tan panzerkompli overalls. The latter, upon seeing the subdued but still distinctive "Armoured Reconnaissance" insignia on his battle-jacket shook Nielsmann's hand and sat down heavily next to him, stretching his legs out infront of him.
A little awkwardly, given that Panzergrenadiers were still clambering aboard, but the M939A5 had room to spare compared to the URAL 4320 or ZIL-131/R trucks that would have been used for such a simple troop-transport purpose back in the homeland.

"So, I say we claim a pub for the greater glory of the Brigade."
"Recce leads the way. Try and find one on a corner?"
"If you'd like. Where's the rest of your patrol?"
"Nick! Gustav!"

Hauser and Rahn leaned forwards from their seats on the truck, looking up the loadbed towards Nielsmann. "That's it?" The Panzer-Aufklärungs man nodded. "Just the vehicle crew from the CRV, now. The rest of them are likely on another truck. How many crews do you have?" Lossow looked around, making eye contact with the tank commander of each crew and motioning with a "on me" gesture. "Four crews, now. All Battlewolves; so a dozen total. Fifteen with you and yours. Should be enough to get started?"
"Ja. Get a little buzzed, but not sloppy drunk. We should all be able to at least walk in a semi-straight line by the time we get back. Night navigation tomorrow, and probably combat exercises as well, so I'd rather not be sitting next to a growling engine with a migraine headache."
Lossow nodded agreement. As good as the suspension on the Battlewolf and Zulu tanks were, and as smooth as the terrain around here was, being jolted around in a metal box under the desert sun did not sound like a whole lot of fun.

Wolfgang Grau, meanwhile, was in one of the lead M939A5s with a large portion of his platoon. He was seated nearest the exit, and held onto the frame supporting the loadbed cover as he looked outside the truck, looking for and seeing the Feldgendarmerie and Aequatian Military Police. His field-cap bore the grey metal "Edelweiss" pin. He sat back down on the bench, resting his elbows on his upper legs. His platoon leader fidgeted with the silver band on his left hand, sighed and pointed at Grau.
"Grau, if I get hammered and it looks like I'm going to get some action, kick my ass."
"Zu befehl, Herr Leutnant. Can I get that in writing?"
"What the Hell for?"
"Well, if I'm kicking your ass and the MPs walk in through the door, they're just going to see that it's a senior NCO beating the ass off a commissioned officer. They're not going to have heard this conversation."
The officer sighed and pulled out his notepad and pencil to scribe the order when one of the soldiers who'd recently joined the unit leaned over and quietly spoke to Oberfähnrich (Master Sergeant) Wolfgang Grau, pulling a tape recorder out of his combat trouser cargo pocket. "Well, Oberfähnrich, they'll have heard it." Grau looked at the man, rolling his hands over so the palm faced the sky, fingers half-curled in the traditional "What in the Hell?" gesture. "Well, Master Sergeant, I figured something epic would happen and a video camera is too bulky, so I might as well have a recording of it."
"When this is over, I want that tape."
"Shit."
"No, not because it needs to be destroyed. Because my sister works at a radio station in the Western Oblast."

Unteroffizier Otto Albrecht stepped up to the side of the Kitsune and rapped his knuckles on the metal next to the window, nodding at SFC Gregor. His Feldgendarmerie insignias were bright on his faded jacket, distinctive for the reason that then there could be no quarrel about who he was or what he did for his paycheque with any drunken soldiers. He carried a handgun on his right hip, securely fastened into its leather holster and hooked to his belt via a white lanyard, his beloved "whupass stick," a telescoping metal truncheon in its quick-pull pouch on his left side, magazine pouches, and a water-filled canteen.
"Hey, Sergeant. We'll have an easy time of this until the end of the night, when we need to round them up and out of the pubs. That is to say, we'll have an easy time provided there's not a whole lot of civilians here - are there?"

Gregor turned to the Russkyan Unteroffizier, "Hopefully things will be quiet for at least a little while, it's the middle of the week, so I doubt there will be many civies out in the bars, although they're always out... except that your boys can expect to see very little action, as many local girls are discouraged to seek out military personnel. Just make sure that your people don't get too disappointed," He said as the sergeant set his shotgun down at the side of the seat, "I'd hate to have to drag people off to the stockade." As he spoke, the M939A5 trucks began to pull out and started off towards the city, "Let's hop to then."

"They'll be well behaved," Albrecht said, "because they fear the Sergeant Major and know better than to get blitzed in this heat on a one-day liberty. It would be more challenging if this were a two day furlough or longer, then they'd think they have time to recoup from a hangover." The Feldgendarmerie man looked up the road at the trucks beginning to pull out and his vehicle with three other MPs pulled up alongside the Kitsune.

"Let's get to it then, aye." He swung himself down off the Kitsune's side, stepping across to the stilled wheel of the modified UAZ-469b which would do service as the general-purpose light vehicle until replaced by an indigenous design, stepped up onto the hood, over the windshield, and dropped down into the passenger seat. The driver gunned the engine and the vehicle ran up the side of the moving trucks to take a place near the front of the column. Unteroffizier Albrecht pointed to various bars and pubs as they entered the sanctioned part of town; indicating them to his new men and what was likely behaviour, including the tendancy of certain troops to put on staged street-fights.

The Aequatian MP officers decided on a centralized point of operations with Gregor and his command staff working out of an area blocked off by the Kitsune armoured cars, with the Cougar Humvees running patrols through the streets as the M939A5 transports came to a halt and the Russkyans panned out into the district to hunt down the bars. The sergeant stood up in the turret of the vehicle and set his pair of wapons down on the rooftop as he rested by leaning back against the turret ring and opened a small paperback at a dogeared page and began to read. He had thought wrong about the civilian population being out, as they were flooding the numerous bars, pus, restaurants and clubs en force, more than once a pair of girls in fairly revealing clothing, thanks to the desert's evening warmth, distracted him from his book and earned the calls of the younger MPs standing around on the sidewalks, he set the novel down and looked up at the evening sky, Who thought it was a good idea to let loose twelve hundred Russkyans into San Allimos tonight?

Rahn thrust both arms into the air and bellowed something not sounding dissimilar to "Whooyeah!" the moment he saw that there were infact, a large number of civilians, and an acceptable portion of them were women. And mostly attractive women at that. Nikolas Hauser backhanded him on the upper chest.

"Uncivilized lout. Ten degrees left our twelve o'clock."
"Wilco."

Three Aequatian women walked down the street, two in miniskirts - and if those miniskirts were cut five inches shorter, it would qualify as lingerie rather than outerwear. Nielsmann turned to Lossow. "They're like barbed wire."
"The women? They don't look jagged and 'stabby' to me."
"No, the miniskirts. It's like barbed wire. It protects the peremiter, but it doesn't obscure the view."
Lossow nodded in acknowledgement and pointed at a pub on the corner.
"That one. For the greater glory of the Brigade."

And so the group stormed the front door of the pub, the Armoured Reconnaissance soldiers making a beeline for the bar, bellowing their not-yet inebriated warcry of "For the greater glory of the Brigade!" in their native tongue. The bartenders shrank backwards against the racked liquor before realizing the Russkyans really meant no violence as they lined up at the bar. The call had attracted a full platoon of Panzergrenadiers, including their officer, a smaller man of a metre and a half in a room where most of the Russko-Germans were a metre and three quarters tall. He jumped up on a nearby table with a large glass of dark beer in his left hand.

"I claim this land in the name of the Tsar!"

Jeered down by Russkyans, he tried again in his clip-accented English.

"All right then. I claim this land in the name of miniskirts and women who love foreign accents!"

Nielsmann put a half-empty glass on the table infront of him to join in on the resounding chorus of "Urrah!" That war-shout coming from a full section of Panzergrenadiers behind him caused him to feel the force of the sound, not entirely dissimilar to the feeling one got from being too close to a subwoofer at maximum volume.

Hauser and Rahn drained their glasses and set them down on the bar, paying with coin and setting their distinctive Panzer-Aufklaerungs black side-caps upon their heads before leaving the bar, unsure if there were restrictions for drinking outside a pub or similar. They followed a gaggle of civilians near a club where a half-dozen Gebirgsjaeger stood, some leaning against the wall.
"Back me up, Gustav."
"What?"
"Just as I said."
Nick stood infront of the Gebirgsjaeger and spoke loudly in German.
"So I hear the lot of you travel in groups this big because you can't take on a half-drunk civilian without reinforcements."
The response was instantaneous; "And we hear that you can't handle your liquor, so you recce boys travel in small groups so you don't embarass yourselves infront of too many of your buddies."
"And what would you do, Hansi, if I told you that your commie mother sucked so much pinko -"
Two of the Gebirgsjaeger detatched themselves from the group and vaulted over the hip-high metal fence that served as the que for this particular club, their comrades grinning behind them. The tallest reached out and took Hauser by the collar, pulling him in close and lifting him bodily off the ground. The second grabbed him by the ankles and pulled out to the left as the first switched his grip to take the Recce man by the wrists. Gustav held up a hand, watching a small crowd part to make way for a UAZ.
"Now!"
Both Gebirgsjaeger swung Nick back, then forwards onto the street, releasing their grip. The lithe recce man rolled to his feet infront of the UAZ and its startled driver, waved to the MPs, winked at the girlfriend of a not exactly insubstantial Aequatian, and walked back off to Gustav and the Mountain Infantrymen, shaking hands with each.

"So they're not taking the bait."
"Not yet. Wait for the night to go on a bit longer first, or pick an Aequatian patrol. That was a good roll, I was a bit worried about your shoulder if you didn't tuck your arm in fast enough. So, shall we find some unattached women?"
"Or women with weak boyfriends and no sense of personal loyalty."
One of the GBJ slapped his mate on the shoulder and jerked his head down the street towards the pub currently occupied by Lossow and company.
"All right, Jorgen," the man said, "try not to get so hammered you can't find your way back to the trucks. Manuevers tomorrow."
Jorgen nodded and went off, dropping a cautious but confident arm around the waist of a nearby brunette and introducing himself not fifteen metres up the street.

Lilith Bryan flicked her auburn hair back as she looked at the partly drunk Russkyan soldier who had placed his arm around her, "Well now, what do we have here?" She said playfully with a shining smile provided by the dark crimson of her lipstick, "Have I been captured in this invasion of S.A.?"

Throughout the district, the other visitors had not wrecked as much havock as was expectd by the authorities, although there had been a few incidents of civilians or soldiers over-stepping some boundries. One particularly bloody incident occured when a bar night manager was struck in the nose by a casual hit during a friendly scuffle between the panzergrenadiers and called for the MPs to arrive, the Russkyan and Aequatian MPs took a report of what had happened and gave the grenadiers a small lecture before sending them off to another bar and providing the manager with treatment from one of the many medics that were on hand from both the 14th Armoured Divison and the Air Force base.

Gregor continued to watch over the now jokingly referred to 'Raping of San Allimos' as it was named by the MP officers, the box of non-lethal 12-gauge rounds sitting next to the M12A1 was still untouched, the sergeant more than pleased if they were returned to the quartermaster in the same condition. He shifted his utility belt as he set the holster bag for his M93A2 Protective Mask while he leaned on the turret ring, returning to his book.

"We? Well, what you have is a slightly inebriated Gebirgsjäger, at your service," Jorgen paused to run a hand down Lilith's arm and take her hand in his, lifting her hand to his slightly inclined head to kiss the back of it, "and what I seem to have is a very pretty girl wearing a very dark red lipstick. Jorgen Saunders, miss. And your name?"

"Look, mate, I really don't want any trouble. I didn't know she's your girlfriend, and she didn't seem to mind so much - y'see how Goddamned confusing it is in here with the lights? I'm lucky I didn't end up grinding against the Leutnant's ass. Now, generally speaking, I'd suggest you let me go and stop trying to drag me outside, becau-"
"You're a yellowback, Nick."
"Wait, what? Say that again, Rahn."
"You're a yellowback, Hauser."
"Well then. Why's that?"

The Aequatian stood somewhat bewildered, one hand wrapped around Hauser's collar, while Rahn and Hauser bantered.

"Because you don't want him dragging you outside. I'd just take him outside and dispose of him."
"Oh really?"
"Indeed, kind sir."
"I see. Well then, we shall have to have a crack at this, shan't we?"
"Indeed we shall, indeed we shall."

Now completely bewildered, the linebacker-looking Aequatian had his left hand slammed down off the collar of Hauser's jacket as he backed fully through a rear entranceway into a semi-dark alleyway crowded with trash cans and dumpsters. Hauser's right hand came up and struck the man in the solar plexus with a closed fist, stepping to the side his shin slammed into the back of the man's knee, and he proceeded to wrap his hand in the back of the civilian's collar and drag him out into the street, followed by Gustav Rahn who quietly shut the club's door behind him as he left. Inside, one of the Gebirgsjäger apologized to the man's girlfriend for the unpleasantness and offered her a drink.

On the street now, the Aequatian had regained his balance and was now trying to swat a fly, swinging hammer-blows at Hauser's head and chest. Rahn shouted directions at Nick, alternating between German and Russkyan in the event that a handful of the locals understood German. Slowly Nikolas Hauser backed up, each movement an evasion of a powerful blow. Once he ducked under a side-swipe and emerged on the backside of it, left arm trapping the blow and an open-palm smack to the side of the man's head, letting the Aequatian's forward momentum carry on as he stepped around the man, planting a blow in the upper back and propelling him further towards a Kitsune armoured car. The goal Hauser had in mind was not to draw the Aequatian's blood. He stepped under another hard-swung blow, bending his knee low and only slightly ducking his head this time. Hauser shoulder-rolled across the pavement and sprang to his feet a few meters from the armoured car, waving hello at the Aequatian MPs and spotting a pair of Feldgendarmerie working their way towards him.

"Gustav! Delay them!"
"Fuck that, mate! I don't want a concussion!"
"Christ, and I'm the yellowback! Fuck, fine. Make sure none of these guys behind me clock me with a shotgun-stock then!"

Rahn sprinted around the side to stand between the brawling pair and the Aequatian MPs, bellowing loudly in English at them. "It will be OK in about thirty seconds! Put that fucking shotgun down!"

Ah, crap, thought Nick, as a massive punch was directed at his face. He whipped his left arm up, deflecting it slightly with his forearm so the blow would go over his shoulder, wrapped his arm over the Aequatian's and back under so that his left hand gripped the shirt under the man's shoulder, and stepped back with his left foot. This simple motion pulled him off balance, and a fierce blow to the inside edge of the right shoulder began spinning him into the ground. The knife edge of Hauser's palm rapped against the civilian's temple, and he stepped back from the unconcious man with his hands away from his sides, palms facing the Military Police.

That didn't quite stop the Feldgendarmerie, who tackled him anyways and rammed a truncheon into his gut for good measure. Kneeling on his shoulders, the FG man looked down at Hauser and shook his head.

"No, man. Sure, it was a good show, but c'mon, they carry shotguns and teargas. Breathe. Inhale. Do it. In. Right, exhale. You'll be fine. Sorry about that."

The Feldgendarmerie patrolman got up and collapsed the "whupass stick," sliding it into its holster before letting Rahn help Hauser up off the street.

She smiled at his gesture and compliment before speaking, "My name's Lilith, Lilith Bryan and it's nice to meet you, Jorgen. Are you here for the field exercise out in the desert?" She asked, looking over his tan uniform and foreign insignia.

Gregor walked over the pavement of the street, his boots making little noise thanks to the suede design, after having stepped down from his halted Kitsune, he had been called to examine a scene of a brawl between a few of the grenadiers and a clumsy civilian, two of the sergeant officers saluted as he approached, the M12A1's forestock in his hand as he nodded the return, "What happened?" He asked with a sigh.

"Well, sarne, it appears these two here," Started one of the MPs pointing to the two Russkyans being held by their own force's officers, "Were a little too close to this guy's girlfriend inside that club," He said pointing to the man being loaded into an ambulance by S.A. municipal paramedics, "And the usual penis wagging ensued."

The sergeant pinched the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb and looked down at the stained ground before lifting his head back up, "So what do you FG boys plan on doing with this pair?" Asked Gregor as he couldn't help but crack a frustrated smile, like that of a father being called to take his troublesome son home from the principal's office.

The two Recce soldiers stood at ease where the Russkyan MPs could keep an eye on them, until Gustav Rahn heard the Aequatian say "penis-wagging." In Russkyan, he turned to his friend.

"Did he say dickwaving?"
"He said penis-wagging."
"I heard dickwaving. I'm going to do the Cockdance."
"I can't help you. You know that right? I can't help you."

Rahn shrugged, and thrust towards one of the FGs, who with a dawning look of horror, preempted the situation by whacking the man in the jugular with the metal truncheon they carried, universally referred to as the "Steel Whupass Stick." Gustav crumpled and Nick sighed in relief. At least he wouldn't be shot in the groin with the hopefully nonlethal rounds loaded into the Aequatian MP's shotgun. Johan Lossow and Frank Nielsmann stepped out of a bar accompanied by a massive gaggle of approximately reinforced platoon-strength half-drunk Panzergrenadiers and even a few GBJ men as well. Nielsmann marched up to the MPs with military precision, halted - the sole of his boot producing the cracking "slam" so beloved of parade squares on the street - and looked down at the unconcious Rahn. At the sound of Nielsmann's German, Hauser snapped to textbook-perfect attention.

"Hauser! What happened to my systems operator?"
"Herr Oberfeldwebel! Hauptgefreiter Rahn suffered blunt force trauma to the jugular artery resulting in instantaneous loss of conciousness!"
"I can see that, Gefreiter Hauser! Why did he suffer blunt force trauma to the jugular artery?"
"He commenced the Cockdance, Herr Oberfeldwebel!"
"Then did he deserve it, Gefreiter Hauser?"
"Jawohl, Herr Oberfeldwebel!"

Nielsmann turned towards Unteroffizier Albrecht, one of the Feldgendarmerie on the scene who'd nodded a greeting at SFC Gregor earlier.
"Unteroffiizer!"
"Herr Oberfeldwebel?"
"Is my man free to go?"
"Yes, Herr Oberfeldwebel!"
"Good!"

Nielsmann picked the unconcious Rahn up by his shoulders and handed him off to one of the Panzergrenadiers, who slung him up and over a shoulder. Nielsmann turned to Gregor.

"Have you seen the movie "Jarhead," Sergeant? Because from what I can tell, that "Field Fuck" in the Kuwati desert is a lot like the "cockdance" and no-one needs to see that. Rahn obviously had a little too much to drink, unlike the rest of us. We'll carry him around; since I'm not done drinking and trying to find one of your countrymen whose pants I can get into. Unless you have any qualms with us carrying an unconcious man around until he eventually snaps to again... should be about ten minutes."

Around two corners and several hundred metres away from the unconcious Rahn, Jorgen Saunders smiled. "I am, Miss Bryan - may I call you Lilith? - as are all of my countrymen here tonight. And why would you happen to be out on the town this fine night, when my half-drunk colleagues are roaming about?" The Gebirgsjaeger gently guided Bryan along the street, occassionally looking around for a corner cafe. One wasn't in sight yet, but Saunders didn't know the city particularly well - at all, really - so he was operating off the assumption that coffee had to be available somewheres within walking distance.

Gregor shook his head, "I'm afraid we can't let you carry him around in that condition, we'll have our medics keep him safe and bring him back to the base," The sergeant motioned to the unconscious man as two medics walked over and gently picked up Rahn under his arms and dragged him to one of the waiting Cougar Maxi-Ambulances.

Lilith smiled, "You may, and I'm out just to enjoy myself after my break-up a little while back," She said pointing to a small cafe sitting next to a closed music store, "I want some coffee, let's go in there!" She continued, tugging at Saunders' arm cross the street.

Jorgen Saunders smiled and let Lilith guide him into the small cafe, reaching into the inner pocket of his battledress jacket for his leather wallet and paying for both coffees, nodding towards a corner table and pulling her chair out with one hand while placing his drink on the table with the other, and sitting down as she did, laying his cap flat on the table as a few years of military decorum stated was nessecary when sitting down to eat.
"Your recent break-up?"

Nielsmann turned to Lossow.
"Well then, how about we go teach these Aequatians some proper drinking songs?"

And so, the gaggle left Rahn to the tender mercies of the medics as they returned to the bar. The Panzergrenadier who'd slung him over a shoulder lifted the man's wallet into the air, stating loudly: "Drinks courtesy of Rahn!"

"Thank you," Lilith said quietly as she took her seat, "My boyfriend thought it was best to separate after he left for the army, feeling that he couldn't handle being so far away... only to sleep around the last week before he left for deployment, I'm sorry, I shouldn't be bothering you with this crap," She said hanging her head and looking down into her mug, taking a sip.

Gregor waved off the FG officers and the Russkyan rabble as he returned to his armoured car, the surrounding chaos of the nightlife all in the background as he sat back in his seat as the vehicle drove forward through the streets, finding its way towards the command post.

Saunders sighed and half stood, reaching back with his left hand to take the chair by its back and bring it around the circular table ninety degrees from where it was - when he sat back down, his back would be towards the counter but he could see the door without turning his head. This also put him just about beside Lilith, rather than across the table from her, as was his intent, and he sat back down as she lifted the mug to her lips.

"So dumbass figured it would be a good idea to leave on a bad note? I'm guessing he's Infantry, and not one of the clever ones, hm?" A trio of Russko-Germans showed at the door to the coffee shop, one raising a quizzical eyebrow at the Gebirgsjaeger only to be subtley waved off by Jorgen. They carried on down the street, as the grey steel "Edelweiss" pin on Jorgen's cap was visible from the doorway and none of them particularly wanted to annoy one of the "Mountain Goats."

"He was such a jerk!" She said abruptly before becoming quiet, "He's serving with one of the units based outside the city, I think he was with infantry... he always went on about those damned Spartan tanks," Lilith said as she set her mug down on the table and moved the chair closer to Saunders' before picking the drink back up again, "I just can't believe what he did to me."

While San Allimos continued to be lit up with the massive party created by the Russkyan battalion, the Army COSCOM units arrived at Peters Air Force Base with several heavy equipment transporter trucks to bring the Russkyan tanks and armoured vehicles along the Prime-01 Highway out to "The Sandbox" proving grounds where they would prepare for the field exercises.

"Of course my plane is fast, it's powered by a plot device." Karl Ostarhilde donned his battlejacket, bearing the rank insignias of a Brigadier General. Oberst (Colonel) Hofstetter laughed at the reference to a webcomic that was often printed out and affixed to the corkboard in the administration office, and welcomed his commanding officer to his command. A "General's Meeting" for both Independant Corps had been convened, thus his delayed arrival. This night, while 2nd Battalion was busily relaxing in San Allimos, he would bring himself up to speed on his command. The General watched the crew of a Zulu Mk.IV tank carefully load their machine onto a tank-transporter before dropping his head to the printed situation report.

Jorgen raised an eyebrow and put his mug back down on the table. "Spartans? Pretty sure that's an IFV, and that'd mean he's Infantry. Also, outside this city? That's too far away for him? What a foolish bastard, and pardon my French." The Mountain Infantryman half-drained his mug.
"Some say that variety is the spice of life. I've never really seen that as a suggestion to "go and piss off a girlfriend," I've always seen that as a suggestion to "re-read the Kama Sutra." Do you know what division he was with, Lilith?"

With the Russkyan commander's arrival, it was custom for him to meet his "adversary" as one of the general purpose Cougar humvees pulled up to the Air Force briefing building where Ostarhilde was staying after his arrival, in a clean Arid Region Digital Pattern uniform, Brigadier Gordon Church, the commanding officer of the 14th Armoured Division's 1st Brigade, stepped down from the vehicle and followed Brigadier Harrison inside the building and through the hallways to where the Russkyan general was located before greeting him, "Herr General, it's nice to meet you... I'll be your rival out in 'The Sandbox'"

Lilith paused to think, "I think he was with the 14th Armoured detachment, or division, something like that," She said taking another sip from her coffee, "It was the same unit that took part in the Separatist Conflict out in Olympus a while ago. It was the reason he wanted to enlist."

"Fourteenth Armoured is lending a brigade for us to play against in the "Sandbox." And I've got a book on Aequatian military history that I should really start reading whenever I get back to barracks somewheres.
I remember being told about the Seperatist Conflict during an orientation briefing, but that's unfortunately about all - they chose to brief me while I was half-asleep and jet-lagged." Jorgen paused to drink deeply from his mug again. "No real reason to get into a history lesson though. When you're finished with that mug, would you like another, or should we leave?"

BdeGen Ostarhilde shook hands with Brigadier Church.
"I look forward to an educational asskicking until I figure out what I'm doing in the desert, Brigadier." The Russkyan officer then shook hands with Brigadier Harrison and offered the Aequatians a mug of fresh-brewed coffee or tea, while ripping the top off of a small paper satchet, pouring the powder into a ceramic mug, and taking a small electric kettle from its stand on his desk, adding hot water to the mixture. He inhaled deeply and sighed. A small gesture with the mug, and he explained. "Kye. Greatest of all the hot beverages. Hot chocolate, I think you call it."

"Well, we're meant to be uncooperative, but that won't be until you've become good and ready for the fight," Said Brigadier Church, "Plus using our MILES III system is a little different than firing real weapons at each other, there's less to take into consideration."

The generals refused the offer, "Thanks though," Was their reply before Harrison spoke, "We'll be holding a second set of training once we're out in the proving grounds, mostly relating to vehicle formations, navigation during the day and night and just personal care, as the open desert is a little different than an Air Force base. The COSCOM people are working now to prepare the vehicles for transport, but after that, it'll be up to the support units to keep them running, with help from our people as well."

While the preparations were being made at the base, Lilith and Jorgen remained at the cafe in San Allimos, she finished her drink when she noticed the clock, which resembled a cartoon cat famous in Aequatian children and collector's circles, on the wall and her cheerfulness was replaced with a rushed worry, "Oh my god, I completely lost track of time, I have to meet my cousin at the Metro station..." She fumbled around in her purse and produced a small paper card and sliding it across the table to Saunders, "Here, take this and keep it until your war games have finished. It was nice meeting you, Jorgen," She said getting to her feet and exiting the cafe. If the soldier was to examine the card, he would see her name next to the logo for Aequatian Military Industries and her title of "Accounting Department Manager", although there would be something of even greater interest on it, the number to her cellular phone."

"Yes, from what I know of it, MILES-Three is prettymuch point and click. I suspect the both of our units will be doing some missing until we collectively remember we don't need to lead our targets or compensate for drop." Ostarhilde drained the mug and laid it on the tabletop.
"I suspect we will be OK for surviving in the desert. Until our engineers figure out an effective sand and grit filter, our mobility will be hampered. This is already obvious to you, and should add an interesting dimension to the wargames. At some point tomorrow, you and I should sit down and have a discussion of how best to lead our commands in this kind of an environment."

Jorgen stood from his chair as Lilith did, bidding her farewell and watching her leave the cafe. He looked down as a Feldgendarmerie enlisted man stood in the doorway watching him, sliding the card towards him and picking it up, surprised to learn so much about her career at a glance - he'd not been expecting a manager - and marvelling at his luck with the cellphone number. This was securely tucked away in the slash hip pocket on his trousers, and the FG soldier motioned; his patrol was tasked with rounding up troops that may have strayed outside the "Entertainment District" and ushering them back in so they could get back on the M939A5 trucks when needed. Jorgen left a few coins on the countertop and left the cafe.

"As it's pretty much the same system we've been using since 1991, the Aequatians will have little trouble in working with it, although it should not be difficult for your forces to become accustomed to it as well, it does not have a steep learning curve like many of the video games now on the market," Harrison said.

Church removed his field cap and held it in his hand as he continued, "Although our own forward support battalion people will be busy preparing my brigade for the exercise, I'm sure we can spare a few personnel to go over the logistical needs for an armoured force before the maneuvers are to start."

Around the San Allimos district which had been "drained" of its alcohol from the visiting battalion, the Aequatian MPs worked together with the Russkyan gendarms in rounding up the panzergrenadiers for the drive back to Peters AFB and sleep for the next morning's movement out to "The Sandbox" or the San Allimos Brigade Training Grounds (SABRTRAG) as it was officially documented in Army texts. Sergeant Gregor walked around the streets as the MPs searched in teams for any roving grenadiers in the bars and clubs of the city's district, his M12A1 slung over his shoulder as he fixed the bandolier of 12-gauge shells that was hanging over his body armour, as it was later in the evening, the Aequatians had outfitted themselves with increased protection, including the new model "Cuirass" Mark.I Lightweight Protective Vest (LPV) which used both ceramic inserts and a new system of synthetic spider silk-like substance and reinforced Kelvar-like design for strength and protection, based off personal armour used in Pantera as well as the new "Stahl" Mark.I Lightweight Protective Helmet (LPH) which is constructed of the same "spider-silk" material with additional acrylic glass face visors.

The Feldgendarmerie looked substantially less heavily armoured next to their Aequatian counterparts, wearing soft caps and no body armour. Having demonstrated excellent self restraint due to knowledge of near-immediate manuevers, the Second Battalion was only "a quarter drunk" and would recover near-fully by morning. A handful of men had drank more than they should have, and these were for the most part carried back to the trucks as if they were battle casualties, mostly for the sake of it, though one man was sufficiently drunk that if he didn't recover well enough by morning, the Cadre's Sergeant-Major would have some unpleasantness.

Unteroffizier Otto Albrecht stepped between a half-section of Panzergrenadiers and the bar, rapping one on the forearm with the extended truncheon. That man didn't blink and simply shrugged the truncheon off, finishing his beer before donning his cap and leaving with a small pile of coins or a few bills on the bartop, as his mates did likewise. Every few seconds one of the men in the patrol would shout "Back to the trucks!" and point down the street. Surprisingly, "disengaging" from the entertainment area was a relatively simple affair - the veteran livers of most of the professional soldiers here had simply shrugged off most of the alcohol poured on them, and it was only a handful of the "juniors" who'd gotten sloppily drunk.

Ostarhilde made a small note on the umbiquitous notepad most officers seemed to perpetually carry.
"Well, Brigadier, I suppose we will need a large number of spare parts, especially if there's a sandstorm or something similar. The exercises prior to the final exercise will give my units, especially the logisticians and mechanics, time to adjust to repairing and resupplying equipment in desert conditions."

Gregor was happy to receive the message from his junior officers that for the most part, the Russkyan second battalion had been collected in their majority and the M939A5 transports would start back to the base while those that were discovered afterwards would be transitted back via MP Kitsunes or civilian taxis, depending on what was to happen. The sergeant released the chinstrap on his helmet and removed it as he took his seat in his M1270 before ordering it down the street as he wished to monitor his other squads working in the district.

Harrison nodded at Ostarhilde's comment, "Your brigade will be living out in the staging area of 'the Sandbox' for three weeks before the full maneuvers begin, in those twenty days, we'll run smaller exercises, recce in-force, raids and a lot of navigation training all in day and night hours. In that time, all of your people will have plenty of opportunities to learn how to fight and function in the Western Desert."

Ostarhilde put his notepad away, simultaneously speaking. "Moreso than they have already. This will be interesting; learning how to camouflage ourselves in this environment will likely be the top priority. I suspect we'll see individual camouflage and vehicle camouflage evolve as we carry on with our training exercises here. My thanks for allowing us to train here and for training us - even if we "lose" the Final Exercise we'll have won a lot of arid regions combat experience, and that's why we're here.

Gentlemen, it is late and I mustn't keep you from your commands any longer, just as I must tend to my own command." Ostarhilde shook hands with them both again, and picking his cap from the desk, went to inspect his headquarters elements.

"Right then, I'll see you tomorrow then, brigadier," Said Harrison as he led Church out of the room and down to the waiting humvee as they left for their own quarters and prepared and rested for the coming morning.

The COSCOM transporters that had been loaded with the Russkyan vehicles were moved to a staging area and placed under guard of the Air Force Security Squadron while the logisticians continued their work under the watch of the mobile flood lights.

OOC: Through the miracle of fluid time.

Brigadegeneral Karl Ostarhilde stood on the roof of the L-16CCV command vehicle, and watched his Third Battalion lead the way into the staging area in the desert. A massive number of Aequatian Heavy Equipment Transporters and other vehicle transporters, plus his own logistics elements, were shifting each battalion as a whole, piece by piece. Wheeled equipment was free to roll on its own, but anything tracked was on a tank transporter and carried North by skilled and seemingly bored Aequatian COSCOM troops. More than a little nervously, tankers seperated from their vehicles fidgeted in the troop trucks that brought them North. Soon enough they'd be mated together again and allowed to roam on familiarization exercises, to put what they'd learnt to a more practical test.

Below him, in the bay of the L-16CCV, a number of staff updated laminated paper maps with the information that they'd both manually plotted out and taken from the Battlenet systems of the vehicles. A greater distribution of navigational aids had been made amongst the Russkyan soldiers, as suggested by the Aequatian trainers, and with a measure of luck - as this kind of terrain was completely unfamiliar to the Russko-Germans - they'd be able to conduct ranged patrols and the like without getting lost up to their asses. Freak sandstorms were another worry for all concerned. The mechanical support companies were busily devising and manufacturing a number of filters for vehicle engines, as the desert sand and grit was the one thing that had potential to remove the normal extreme reliability of the Russkyan equipment.

The move continued over night, with vehicle crews experimenting with thermal and passive night vision imaging systems, as did the Infantry. By sunrise of the next day, the entire Brigade was in position, picquets set, and undergoing a period of "Rest and Maintainence" prior to commencement of any operations. One Tank Commander shook hands with a COSCOM man as his vehicle, the last of the MBTs, was offloaded at approximately 02.38 local time. The lighter IFVs and other vehicles had already been moved into position, and many of their crews were sleeping under hasty shelters erected by their machines.

Dawn arose, a massive orange-yellow glow emanating from over the horizon, viewed by the picquets with the 03.00-06.00 shift. One Panzergrenadier snapped a quick photograph of a tanker sitting on the roof of his vehicle in the dawn's growing light, then continued his patrol. That tanker looked up into the sky, saw only a scattered handful of clouds, and found his shemaugh, which would protect his face from the harsh sunlight in conjunction with his darkly tinted goggles as the day wore on.

Brigadier Harrison sat in the passenger seat of a Cougar humvee as it drove through the pathways that had formed in the sand between the Russkyan tents from the movement of vehicles throughout the night. He was heading for the command post of Brigadier-General Ostarhilde to outline the coming weeks' training courses that would be run now that they were in the desert proper.

He watched as the panzergrenadiers settled into their new homes fairly well, the general purpose tents set up with laundry drying in the sun and surrounded by sandbags with soldiers either resting in the shade or cleaning their weapons according to the new procedures handed out by the Aequatian training regiment. He would bet his month's salary that the 1st Bridage, 14th Armoured Division was in the exact same position and routines in their living area on the other side of the training grounds, almost four hundred eighty kilometres to the Northwest of the Russkyan's position.

The vehicle kicked up sand as it came to a halt in front of the tent and Harrison stepped out of the open vehicle and greeted the sentry outside with a salute before entering the tent in search of the Russkyan officer.

Now that the Brigade was deployed in the field, the sentry at the command tent's half-open door didn't return the Aequatian officer's salute, but as the honourific did have to be returned somehow he snapped to a ramrod-straight attention, feet angled at the precise thirty degrees stipulated by the drill manual. He relaxed again as the officer walked into the tent.

The reason for not returning the Brigadier's salute was simple - though not nessecarily under threat at that precise moment, NORDLAND had taught the Russkyans to always assume that a enemy combat patrol, sniper team, special forces raid, or even large-scale infiltrating Infantry assault was just at the turn of the hour. As such the sentry didn't salute the officer as such a gesture marked the man out as a good target for any sniper observing the area. Inside the tent, the Russkyan commander gestured in greeting and waved the Brigadier near one of the currently bare operations tables, waving down the man's salute, no need for such formalities in the field, and shaking hands.

"Brigadier Harrison," said Brigadier General Ostarhilde, "good to see you again, welcome to our sandy abode. Straight to business?"

Outside, a few engineering vehicles carefully utilized digging tools and rollers to produce decently surfaced roadways which were economically wetted with pressure hoses set to "Mist" to keep dust down, and defensive positions were constructed in depth utilizing interlocking fields of fire, preregistered artillery, machinegun, and mortar zones, and reaction drills established. The action helped acclimatize soldiers to their new positions, and the Russkyans began re-learning how to conceal themselves in their new home. One of the senior NCOs could be heard remarking to another: "To Hell with this tan shit. My battlefield needs to be green."

The training general nodded as he walked over to speak directly with Ostarhilde, "I hope that your quarters are well-secured, because as part of your cadre's training, there is an Army Special Forces company from one of the Corps' resident SFGA units wandering about and will be planting 'bombs' or gain access to files or maps in command posts," The general grinned, "Consider it something to keep you on your toes. As for conventional training, we will be starting with company-level training with the panzergrenadiers for maneuvers with their accompanying mechanized vehicles before we move onto battalion task forces and combined arms actions in the desert. For the company-level training, you'll be working together with a few selected infantry companies from the second brigade of fourteenth armoured."

Outside the living area of the Russkyan camp arrived three companies of infantry mounted in their M4A4 Spartan armoured vehicles and the desert fighters dismounted from their compartments and took up a position under the shade of the vehicles and waited for the arrival of the forces they would be working with in the mechanized training. After training with the Russkyans, they would act as OpFor shortly in a small exercise. One of the platoon sergeants, Staff Sergeant Lauren Potter sat on the front hull of her section's Spartan, her full kit, like the other armoured infantry, was stowed away on the side of the vehicles and they were left with nothing more than their unloaded weapons and standard utility uniforms with rimmed boonie hats or field caps and personal webbing.

Sentries along the peremiter had noted the advance of the Aequatian unit, plans were made, and Numbers 1 through 3 Kompanie, Panzergrenadier, were deployed out of the gates to laager near the Aequatian unit. Leaders conferred, and a Panzergrenadier with his webbing and rifle close at hand beside him rested with his back against the roadwheels of the L-15 Badger IFV.
This man made eye contact with a nearby Aequatian, who slid down in the sand slightly lower in the shade of his vehicle, and underneath the shelter-half rigged to one side of the Badger to create a 'half shelter' from the sun, the Panzergrenadier slid down further. Eventually the man was resting with just the back of his head against the roadwheel, and shouted across the sand in accented English: "Damn it, stop trying to out-relax me!"

Oberfeldwebel Frank Nielsmann sat on the roof of his recce vehicle as it pulled up next to the conferring unit leaders; he was "currently commanding the small reconnaissance detatchment attached to this three-company excursion to the lovely orange sands and crushing heat of the Aequatian Western Desert," by means of introduction when queried, and listened intently to the impromptu O-Group in progress.

Sergeant Potter turned her head at the Russkyan's comment and laughed as she noticed both of the soldiers attempting to best each other in expressing their relaxation, although she was more amused by the thought that anyone would ever be comfortable in the arid environment. The company commanders and liaison officers spoke with their counterparts, discussing the coming training, which would be new to the visiting foresters and second nature to the Aequatians. The training detachment officer, a major, approached the group of captains and lieutenants and introduced himself as one Arthur Hammond and started explaining what was going to be occuring for the mechanized infantry for the next two weeks, "We'll be running drills for a number of procedures for mechanized combat and maneuvering in the desert, you infantry will be mated to your track drivers and them to you, as you'll be depending on each other in the field, whether it's the vehicles providing covering fire for an advance or infantry covering an L-15 that's thrown a track or has been hit, you'll all learn to act and fight as one unit."

He organized the six companies of mechanized infantry to pair off with their counterpart unit and assemble for the start of the training, right down to the section-level where the infantry would mount and dismount from their vehicles, each L-15 and M4A4 and its accompanying infantry were set, the training sergeants addressed their attached groups, extentions of the Major's outline for the training, "Movement and initiative are important in desert warfare, the featureless terrain provides an equal playing field when it comes to fighting, much like the ocean, and it is those who can put their boots on the sand and engage faster who will come out on top."

The Aequatian infantry donned their full combat kit, personal armour, helmets and load bearing equipment, before mounting into their vehicles as they would at a battalion assembly area before an attack, allowing the Russkyans to witness the motions as the Spartans started their engines and started moving forward. Once they had been moving for a moment, the major called into his radio headset, "Contact! Enemy positions forward!" and the vehicle's halted immediately, kicking up some of the finer sand as the rear compartment ramp was released from its hinges and its hydraulics whined as it was pressed down into the ground and the pounding of boots first on the steel floor followed by the sand as the Aequatians disembarked from their vehicles and the section broke down into its two fireteams and each team formed a line on the two flanks of the Spartan and went prone in the sand as they trained their weapons on the imaginary positions.

The officer watched closely as he called into the headset again, "Enemy neutralized!" No sooner had he finished speaking that the Aequatians folded back from their line to the rear of the vehicle and crouched as they took their seats inside and the vehicle started moving as its ramp closed up against the armoured compartment. The vehicles moved forward momentarily before turning on their tracks and coming back to meet with their Russkyan partners. From that point on for the rest of the morning, the Aequatian and Russkyan infantry repeated that drill with the attached drill sergeants calling on their headsets to their respective infantry sections.

As the infantry trained, throwing up sand and dust in their movements outside the camp, Brigadier Harrison continued to speak with Ostarhilde, "While the infantry train with their counterparts, I'd like to run a few other exercises, such as tank gunnery with your Battlewolves and Zulus with our Mackalls, field artillery drills in deploying and pulling up their guns for movement and air defence gunnery, similar units will be arriving from the first brigade to take part in the exercises."

Ostarhilde grinned at the prospect of tank gunnery training. "Yes. Gunnery is certainly something that should be covered today, given that the desert conditions will change its nature substantially. I do so like the massive 140mm gun on the Mark Four and Battlewolf. Air-Defence will be critical, and I don't have any towed artillery with me, just SPHs, but it will be good practice for them to learn what kind of ground will sink them in up to their roadwheels when they fire. Well, won't take long to set up the logistics for any of this." The two senior officers supervised the staff who set up the supporting units for the in-training units, ensuring adaquete amounts of fuel and ammunition would be available. This was the simple part; Ostarhilde asked Harrison's opinion a few times on material transport methods as the temperate environment made supply transfer much easier as there was little risk of the Russkyan trucks sinking in up to their axles if they left a hardened path.

In the desert, the Panzergrenadiers cocked an inquisitive eyebrow at the Aequatian's concept of "He who dismounts first fights first thus lives first," or more correctly at the air of revelation they'd had when they revealed the concept. Yes. The sky is also blue, thought Feldwebel "Vik" Holstein as the L-15 jerked to a stop in the sand and the rear ramp slammed down. In under five seconds the entire complement excepting the crew had debussed and were prone in the sand, spaced out from their vehicle and facing forwards as the scenario called for, with the machinegun team and antitank launcher closest to the vehicle; which was spaced ten metres away from either in the event of "vehicle death" as it was doctrinally termed. On the command to re-board, the outlying riflemen were inside within five seconds and the final group, the machinegun team, was aboard as the ramp was rising on its hydraulics. The vehicle rocked backwards as it headed back towards its start location.

Next, vehicle formations were covered. So far everything except the actual gunnery had been essentially the same as to manuever in temperate environment; none of their Instant-Action drills needed to change, none of their battledrills were wrong, it's just that there is no cover in the desert, something that continually confused the Russkyans when they realized perfectly straight lines were actually possible without exposing themselves to enemy fire - they were exposed anyways. And thus the picture-perfect manuevers continued. Very similar to manuevering in the steppe... just thirty degrees warmer than it normally was. Which when in full battlegear, was sweltering. Canteens were nearly drained and replenished, with the natural caution of the Russkyan soldier not allowing him to drink more than two thirds of his canteen's contents before refilling, especially in this climate.

The "Mark Four" Zulus and heavier Battlewolf tanks left the encampment next, to regroup with their Mackall counterparts - a machine that would undoubtedly prove bloody formidable in the desert.

Potter lifted the front edge of her helmet up as she adjusted her field goggles before looking over at the Russkyan tanks that had emerged from the camp as they met up with the arriving tank company of fourteen M20A1 Mackall tanks, the lead tank, the company commander's, came to a halt with the Captain riding from his cupola behind the massive MG96B 20mm machinegun. The others lined up opposite the Russkyan Zulus and Battlewolves as the engineers on the hastily-constructed gunnery range littered with old, former National Guard M55 Black Tiger tanks and M113A5 Centaur APCs for use as targets for the coming tank shells. The vehicles were moved to the gunline at the range as the M4A4 Spartan-derived tracked ammunition and fuel carriers, different than the wheeled trucks of the Russkyans, pulled up behind them as the supply personnel started to unload the 125mm sabot rounds and handing them off to the tank crews. Captain Criss Kubrick, the Mackall company commander, approached the Russkyan tanks to greet his counterparts.

Throughout the day, other Aequatian units began to arrive, including a battery each of both field artillery armed with the new M199 Thor self-propelled guns and M1200 Vampyr air defence vehicles accompanied by Air Force controllers for the QA-37B Dragonfly target drones, which had the same flight characteristics of most close air support aircraft. The Air Defence battery commander, Major Joshua Markham, stood beside his vehicle as he spoke with the Air Force remote pilots, their UNISUV M1171 directions vehicle was having trouble negotiating the sand of the open terrain, its eight wheels sinking into the sand as its crew tried desparately to free it without having the shame of contacting the aid detachment and its engineers to recover it.

Harrison's eye caught the Air Force M1171 crew working with their vehicle and grinned as he pointed it out to Ostarhilde, "I think that might answer your concerns," He said, fixing his cap, "For the most part, many of the usual cargo transports that accompany a temperate mechanized infantry and armoured division like our M38 and M939A5 trucks are switched out for our tracked carriers based off the Spartan chassis, allowing it to navigate the desert ground better. Although that may not be an option here, the best way to keep your wheeled assets up with your armour columns is to have them follow in the compressed sand of the tracks of the advancing vehicles, if you'd noticed, most Aequatian vehicles like the Cougar hummers, trucks and UNISUV vehicles have the same wheelbase as our tanks, something we kept from our days of using the old American Abrams and M998s."

Lossow handed rounds up from his place by the hull of his Battlewolf so his gunner could load them into the automatic loader in the turret's bustle. A few of the machines were being reloaded by the magazine replenishment vehicles, a simple five-minute operation, but for the sake of the exercise a few vehicles, including the commander's - his - were doing it manually.

A few of the Russkyan trucks were bogging down but the crews were able to near-immediately free themselves by taking the spare lumber from the loadbed of the truck and placing it under the wheels to free themselves from certain areas. Were this a more permanent operation, engineers would lay corduroy roads over the sand and rock. Ostarhilde pointed out a ZIL-131/R truck stopping next to the immobilized UNISUV to lend assistance with the unditching "tools" and within a few minutes the UNISUV was scurrying across the sand. Brigadier General Ostarhilde's staff made a note to ensure that any unit deployed to the desert had a greater complement of L-15 tracked general-purpose armoured vehicles, rather than the wheeled L-16GPAV variation thereof.

Back at the tank firing lines, ammunition haulers moved away as the Russkyan tanks reported ready to fire. The Russkyan tanks put up small yellow flags to indicate a "Ready to Fire" status. Red would indicate "Firing" and Green would indicate "Have Ceased Fire." Lossow stood in his hatch, old "Afrika Korps" sidecap held in place on his head over his shemaugh and goggles via the communications headset, microphone an inch or two from fabric-covered lips. He held up his left arm and looked across at the Aequatian armour commander.

The Mackall crews had completed their own rearming just as quickly as the Russkyans as the tracked ammunition carriers kicked up sand as they pulled away from the gun line as the individual tank commanders ran their own red cloth flags up the third false communication's aerial carried on all tanks to provide them with the appearance of command tanks, thus protecting the true vehicle in combat. Kubrick replied the gesture with his right hand from the turret of his tank as he spoke into the microphone on his helmet's headset, "We'll start with a few shots made on the targets, use both normal and thermal imaging sights, as the featureless desert makes it difficult to identify targets with a normal sight from long distances, using a thermal sight will allow you to quickly identify your targets even better during the day, especially in the more frequent minor sandstorms that obstruct vision beyond a thousand metres."

The engineers had moved away from their working areas, the last targets being tanks hulldown behind makeshift tank trenches and bermes, after they had cleared the range, the order of "Weapons free" was given over the radio channel as one of the M20A1 platoon command tanks took the first shot as its 125mm PK3A1 main gun fired, spitting flame and kicking up a massive dust cloud in front of the sealed tank. The sabot was placed square on the turret of an olive green M55 tank, the hit sparking as the pyrophoric effects of the depleted uranium shot were seen as the dart pushed through the cermic and steel armour and inside the empty turret.

Lossow nodded his affirmative and then acknowledged properly over the radio, feeling the concussion of the M20A1's maingun firing when it did. He dropped down inside his tank and dogged his hatch, then selected three targets and uploaded them to the TADS. His tank and two others would engage. Tank commanders called in "ready to fire" states, and the autoloader in Lossow's machine rammed in a triple-stage shaped charge warhead that could penetrate up to 850mm of RHAe instead of an APFSDS round.

The breech closed and the gunner saw a green light in the top left of his field of vision as his head was pressed against the rubber protective cups of the gunsight. He used the rangefinding stadia on his optic to find the range, laid his sights, and announced "Target." The entire operation had barely taken three seconds.

"Fire."

And the 140mm gun slammed back inside the tank. Outside the gunner and commander's vision were obscured by the tremendous muzzle blast despite the forward-slotted muzzle brake, and the projectile screamed out over the desert sands to slam into the midsection of the turret of an older MBT target and melt through the armour efficiently and mercilessly.

"Kill. Load Sabot. Prepare for continous sabot. Target eleven o'clock, range estimate one thousand three hundred. Use thermals and rangefinder."

The gunner punched the appropriate buttons, his field of view changed, and the autoloader prepared to serve the gun a continous buffet of 140mm APFSDS projectiles. Zulus and Battlewolves engaged targets in tandem with the Mackalls and soon the efficient gunnery had completely wrecked the "enemy" vehicles. There was no doubt that the gunnery of both sides was more than formidable; but then again conditions weren't that harsh. Lossow himself didn't dare to think this, for he figured the desert was much like the ocean - dare to underestimate it for a second or think it would always be pleasant-ish, and it would surely rise up and smash you down for your impertinence. He smiled at that thought and selected another target, leaving his individual tank commanders to do the same for their gunners.

The tankers wrecked their havoc on the old vehicles on the range before the ceasefire was called and Kubrick addressed the armoured soldiers through the radio channel as the clouds of sand and dust began to blow away in the wind, "Well done, take five and start rearming as we'll be engaging the last targets on the range, the tanks dug into their trenches and artificial bermes. While it may be more difficult to engage target dug in more temperate regions, the low density of the sand compared to earthen soil allows for much less protection to be provided for the vehicle against kinetic energy rounds. A tank hidden behind a berme can still be engaged with a sabot depending on the thickness of the sand, although for the most part, it will be almost ineffective in slowing down a round. Observe," He said as he switched channels and directed his assistant command tank to engage one of the loaded M55 tanks sitting behind a tank trench, the main gun fired, releasing a sabot round which penetrated the sand of the trench and proceeded to strike the turret of the tank, placing the round square on the ammunition storage which exploded orange as the rounds burst from the compartment.

As the combined tank force continued their gunnery on the range, there was the sound of jet engines over all of the ground forces as the Air Force personnal had finally placed their vehicle, with the aid of the Russkyans on the ground, in a spot which would not allow them to be stuck in the sand as the first of the QA-37B aerial drones flew overhead, these would act as targets for the air defence units. Major Markham returned to the sat on the turret of his M1200, the VAMPYR radar suite sitting in front of him as he kept an eye on the passing aircraft as he waited the arrival of the Russkyan L-15 and L-21 vehicles.

Almost as one man, the entire crew of Lossow's tank, and the crews of many of the other tanks were doused in the stark realization that the environment wouldn't even protect them from enemy gunnery - not that a whole lot will protect you from a APFSDS round travelling at around a kilometer and a half per second, but now digging in to create a defensive position was of rather questionable value for the armoured vehicle crewmen. This realization manifested itself in one word: "Shiiiiiit." Lossow looked away from the plume of greasy-black smoke that was the ammunition fire aboard the M55 target, and as he was the command vehicle he ordered all others to hold fire in order to conserve ammunition; more correctly to observe targets which were now in low supply.

In the familiar rhythem of commander to gunner battle communications, Lossow assigned another target.
"Mike-Five-Five tank, two o'clock, eight hundred. Sabot."
"Target."
"At your discretion."

The gunner switched from standard optics to his thermal sight and then to passive night vision. Choosing the last of those three options, he re-centered his optics on the target, again using the computer-assisted stereoscopic rangefinder to determine range rather than lasing the target with the rangefinder, saw the second green light blink on, and then pulled his trigger. The 140mm gun roared, jerking backwards on its recoil-path and then the autoloader began to reload it. Three seconds later another APFSDS round was in the breech and the gun was without a target but otherwise ready to fire. Downrange, the target sported a fresh perforation; the round had lanced through the sandwall and into the hull of the vehicle, just below the turret. Overpenetration had carried it through to knock another hole in the far side of the tank before the used sabot buried itself some dozens of metres in the soft, sandy soil behind the targets.

As the armoured units finished their gunnery practice, the Anti-Aircraft units moved via a series of staggered columns to set up in a variety of formations on the desert floor in the designated target area. A tracked Badger command vehicle, recieving directions from the handful of Aequatians its crew had to ask, pulled up alongside what would turn out to be Markham's M1200.

The antiair batteries consisted, generally speaking, of a pair of L-21A "Jaguar" vehicles - essentially SAM-armed Gepards with twin 30mm on the L-21 "Kodiak" chassis plus four L-15 air-defence vehicles. These were coordinated by a command vehicle and battery radar set which supplemented the onboard radars, with heavier equipment further up the chain as was required. Formations assumed consisted mostly of shallow wedges, though the "All Around" circle was seen in a few instances in order to test its effectiveness in the desert. Until the order to engage at will was recieved, the gunners of all vehicles amused themselves with tracking any QA-37B within range. The noise of turret servomotors became the predominant noise over the idling sound of the multifuel or diesel engines.

Markham smiled at the arrival of the Russkyans as he jumped down from the hull of the Vampyr vehicle, his tan-coloured suede boots kicking up a small cloud of dust as he straightened his uniform blouse and field cap as he approached the vehicles as they tracked the Air Force drones, "Greetings, gentlemen, it's good to see that you're all eager to get to business and show those flyboys who really owns the sky."

Within a few minutes, he had collected the crews in front of him and his own officers and vehicle crews, with one M1200 still actively tracking a target a good thirty five metres behind him, "The desert's open environment provides us with a very nice field of view for sight gunnery, but also eliminates normal ground clutter for tracking and air serach radar systems. Unfortunately, this also provides aircraft, especially SEAD planes, the same advantage towards you with their anti-radiation missiles, cluster bombs and cannon fire. So just as with any other area of operations, time between detection, tracking and engagement should be as short as possible."

He signalled to the Air Force captain sitting atop the tan M1171 and the gesture was returned as one of the orbiting QA-37B drones cirlced around and lined itself on an "attack run" on the air defence gunners' position as the stationed Vampyr's turret, guided by the turret-mounted phased-array radar, hidden away inside a white dome, spun to action as the six launch tubes each containing the new MIM-270B Aquila Infrared-guided SAMs and four protruding M125A6 35mm cannons pointed skyward at the approaching aircraft as the linked cannons fired, spitting flame as the massive casings fell into the sand as the QA-37B started spinning as its port wing was torn off and the fuselage disintegrated as it plowed into the sand of the air gunnery range in a firey explosion. The major directed the crews back to their vehicles with a promise from the Air Force personnel that there would be plenty of target snacks for the gunners.

Kubrick stepped down from the turret of his M20A1 onto the hull and then onto the ground as the tank crews from both sides took the break in the training to converse, when capable of overcoming the language barriers, or examined each other's respective vehicles, the 140mm gun being appreciated by many of the older tankers, with the old Predator tanks having a rifled 135mm gun several years prior in Aequatian service. The autoloaders were another area of interest, an a source of jokes towards the "rookie" loader soldiers, "We'd have to actually do our own laundry or sewing if our Macs had autoloaders," Joked one of the corporal drivers as the group continued to converse.

The midday sun had stopped most of the intense training, leaving the air defence gunners the only ones to continue as the infantry also took the opportunity to rest in the shade provided by their vehicles, the Aequatians removing most of their field kit and reverting to their olive green tee shirts soaked with sweat from the heat and their ARDPAT tropical "boonie" hats. Staff Sergeant Potter sat in the passenger compartment of the platoon lead's M4A4 with the rear ramp down as she ate from one of the Individual Meal Packages, or IMPs, as they were usually called them for their taste when compared to the visage of the small demons from childhood stories. The afternoon would call for less intense training, mostly firing range with long-range weapons and light anti-tank weapons against targets or the OpFor of "Neverwhereland" as the range targets were named by the Aequatians stationed in the Western Desert region. A quartermaster team, riding in the tracked armoured carriers, arrived with crates of small arms ammunition for the Aequatians along with each section also gaining a crate marked in black-stenciled paint text "16x LAW-75A Launchers, 75mm HEAT" with much grins from the mechanized warriors while HETs arrived with M113A5 Centaur vehicles for targets on the designated firing range for the infantry.

For reasons solely due to logistics, certain modifications had been made to the domestically produced "L-Series" vehicles, originally designed by the superlative firm of IMW-LDS. For example, rather than retain the FN-MAG/58 derived coaxial machinegun firing its 7.62x51mm NATO round, a modified "Stormwind" GPMG was utilized, for all intents and purposes resembling a PKMT, firing the Russkyan 9.3x64mm ammunition. Only these minor changes were nessecary - the vehicles otherwise performed beyond superbly, for example the L-21A "Jaguar" modification of the L-21 "Kodiak" MBT.

In essence, the L-21A was a Gepard SPAAG with SAMs. It filled the role of Medium and Long Range Air Defence for the "Desert Cadre" and was armed with twin 35mm LCA.42 automatic cannons as well as two four-cell launchers for GWS.85L "Vulture" surface to air missiles. Operating independantly of the battery headquarters with its acquisition and observation radars, the Jaguar nearest Major Markham's vehicle - not an intentional choice, simply a coincidental matter of geometry and range - had two servomotors operate simultaneously - one swinging the turret around to the appropiate bearing, the other raising the LCA.42 "Thirty-Fives" to the appropriate elevation. Inside the vehicle, the gunner triggered a Vulture SAM, which blasted free of its launch cell and accelerated to maximum velocity in the span of a few moments, the smoke trail disappearing as the rocket motor burned out. On the gunner's radar and battle information display screen, the missile transected the targetted drone neatly. Outside the vehicle, as the drone's symbol blinked off the screen, the distance-muted crump of an explosion and a black-and-red ball of explosives-generated fire against the azure blue sky. The vehicle commander ordered the gunner to switch over to the automatic cannons, and the next target was engaged and quickly destroyed with a pair of short bursts; the target flopped upside-down into the sand of the desert, plowing its own grave as it burned.

Ordered to cease fire, Jaguar crews conversed with Aequatian counterparts while the L-15ADV (Air Defence Vehicles) had their go. The sound of their 35mms and short-ranged SAMs echo'd across the sands to the currently-resting Panzergrenadier and Panzer elements. One of the Russkyan tankers patted the rear of his Zulu IV's turret, an interim design until the new MBT could be brought into general production, rattling off the impressive specifications of the Ob.640-type automatic loader to the nearby Aequatian tankcrew, before pulling his canteen from its pouch and taking a long draught from the heavy-duty plastic. "But," he finished with a wry grin, "It does mean that us civilized types - vehicle commander, driver, gunner, have to do the dirty work. You've got your manservant there."

Resupplying via the general-purpose armoured vehicles (L-15GPAV) at headquarters level, the Russkyans recieved additional small arms ammunition and antitank rounds in addition to their basic battle loads. As this happened, batteries were dispatched to each PzGrn Kompanie from the antitank unit. To each Coy went ten L-15ATMV vehicles, lavishly armed with the potent GWS.78V "Roc" ATGM. Referred to as a "battery" rather than a "section" due entirely to their heritage, the battery commanders conversed with company commanders and were told only to engage targets in conjunction with the IFVs, per doctrine, as the Infantry targets would soon be in short supply. A nearby Panzergrenadier racked the bolt back on the Stormwind GPMG he served, as if on cue, and the commanders laughed before going to coordinate with their Aequatian counterparts who would have first go at the ranges.

The corporal drank from the tube attached to his "Camel pack" water container sitting on his back, before he replied, "True, but there's never a shortage of dirty work for any of us," He said as he removed his tan-painted CVC, Mk.I helmet and held it by its straps as he examined the roadwheels and tracks of the Zulu tank in front of him, "What's breaking track on this babe like?" He asked as the crews continued about.

Staff Sergenat Potter had finished eating as she stuffed the IMP's empty package into the trash barrel set out by the quartermasters as she picked up her customized G65A3 carbine and joined the platoon's lieutenant as they spoke with the company's commander and the other platoon leaders with the Russkyan officers and sernior NCOs. Each platoon would take a go on the range, with their Aequatian or Russkyan counterpart observing before switching out, the first platoon being Potter's own. With a rolling of her eyes, she returned to her platoon and lashed at the infantry sections to the range and wait for the arrival of their counterparts.

As the training groups on the ground continued with their exercises, the sound of helicopter rotors could be heard as the approaching form of an unfamiliar aircraft approached, "What is that, a fucking Hip?" Said one of the mechanized infantrymen as he hefted his MG66A2 squad automatic weapon in his arms and looked at helicopter, seeing it's resemblance to the Mi-17 helicopter.

Brigadier Harrison smiled as he turned to Ostarhilde, "The specialists I contracted out from the nearby 16th Marine Division's STAR Battalion are here," He said pointing at the arriving UH-83A "Fury" helicopter as it circled the basecamp and touched down just outside to avoid blowing away any of the tents with its rotor wash. The blades kicked up a sandstorm as they died with a slow hum and the rear ramp fell into the sand as a group of infantry walked down, in uniforms that the Russkyans would notice as considerably different than the digitized patterns used by both the Army and Air Force personnel they were accustomed to since their arrival. Their packs were draped with a covering in the same pattern along with their helmets and armour vests, half of them were carrying a second pack along their their rucksacks, a longer, canvas pack.

The first of the figures that stepped off the helicopter approached Brigadier Harrison and Ostarhilde and saluted before speaking, "Sir, Master Gunnery Sergeant Kurt Rottman, reporting as requested with the training detachment from the Surveillance, Target Acquisition and Reconnaissance Battalion, Sixteenth Marine Division, Sir," He said as the rest of the teams assembled behind him, each currently resembling normal Marines, their uniforms devoid of all insiginia other than brown ranking markings on the collars of their Desert Standard Uniform.

"Ahh, the 'Rottweiler' of the Fifth Marine Expeditionary Force's own Solifugae Legion, we're most lucky to have you," Said Harrison before abruptly pausing, "Well, they won't be so lucky..." He continued with a smile before allowing Ostarhilde the chance to speak with the Marine.

The tanker nimbly hopped off the hull and showed the Aequatian the simple and surprisingly durable linking system used for the tread components.

"Just like any other tank. If the track breaks, it is easy enough to fix but if the tank rolls all the way off the tread then it can be a royal pain in the ass to get back on. We're apparently going to get an improved track system on the new tank, whenever they finish with the prototypes and put it into general production, but I don't know when that will be. On the sand, I'm not too worried about the ground breaking the track but if we throw one in too-soft sand it'll take the recovery vehicles to help fix this fucker up; and we're nowheres near as heavy as you, looks like. Only about forty-five tons here, what does your beast weigh?"

BDEGen Ostarhilde returned MGy Sgt Rottman's salute and shook hands like a Russkyan; quick grab, firm - and for those with a weak handshake, a crushing - grip, up then down, and release. Careful to pronounce the unit's name correctly despite the clipped and yet simultaneously rhythmic accent his Russko-German heritage gave him, he said, "Wilkommen, Master Gunnery Sergeant. It would appear you have quite the reputation, and at some point you'll have to direct me to a good book where I may learn the history of this Solifugae Legion." Ever observant, he noted the long canvas cases and came to the logical conclusion. He continued: "Snipers, I presume. Well, at some point I have little doubt that I'll either be shot at or "killed" by you or one of yours during the exercises. My second in command, Colonel Hofstetter, has had some bad luck with your counterparts, as I recall."

Oberst Pavel Hofstetter, a tanker by trade, shook hands with the Aequatian Master Gunnery Sergeant, picking up where his commander had left off.

"I was "shot" by a sniper while my tank was travelling at sixty kilometres an hour, cross country. The sniper's logbook said that he fired from seven hundred meters, dead ahead of us. He also shot a platoon commander and a company commander before we were able to batten - button? - down inside our tanks. So you'll forgive me if I don't offer you a beer until after you've shot and "killed" me. Most likely repeatedly." A wry grin, prototypically Russkyan.

Breaking by platoons, the Russkyans sat by and watched the Aequatians line up on the ranges. Despite being a simplistic exercise, the Russkyans watched how they positioned themselves carefully in the event that they might pick up on an unmentioned nuance that would come in handy later.

The corporal glanced back at his own tank, as the loader and gunner worked to clean the 125mm smoothbore PK3A1 main gun, "The Mac's weigh a good sixty six tons, closer to sixty seven when she's fully loaded," He said turning back to the Russkyan tanker, "There shouldn't be too much trouble in recovery, unless you fall into a pit of soft sand or into the bed of a wadi close to the wet season, then you're fucked good and proper. Believe me, nothing pisses the engineers off more than putting a tank into soft mud," He said with a wry smile.

The senior Marine NCO couldn't help but smile at Harrison, "Only the Army calls me the 'Rottweiler', Sir," He said with a slight pause, "In the Marines, we call it doing our job, Army pukes just seem to be impressed with that," He said looked the Army Brigadier in the eyes. The Army officer laughed at the same moment as the Marine as they hugged, "How's the misses, I trust Katie's still well?" Rottman asked.

"She's good, a little pissed I'm out still playing soldier in the sandbox, but good," He replied as the other Marines appeared to relax, never dreaming of speaking to a superior officer, Army or otherwise, in the same manner as their Master Gunnery Sergeant, "How's your misses, Kurt?" He asked.

"The Corps is just fine, Jim," He answered with a wry smile, "Twenty years and we're both still faithful," He joked with a loud, boisterous laugh before turning and greeting the Russkyan's handshake with an equally strong handshake, "There's a few books I'm sure you can find in one of the sections of any Aequatian bookstore or library," He noted the general's observation of the sniper's weapons, "That is correct, Sir, although there's no being 'shot at' when it comes to our field, you're hit once and that's it." Rottman then greeted the colonel in the same manner as the brigadier as the conversation continued, although knowing better than to correct an officer he did not know well, "That's all right, you won't have the misfortune of being on the wrong ends of our rifles, although we're here to offer a few pointers to your boys, how many do you have with your, brigade is it?"

Staff Sergeant Potter kneeled into a crouching position alongside the the platoon's lieutenant and one of the section machinegun teams, the gunner in prone position slapping down the cover assembly of the MG68E1 general purpose machine gun mounted on its bipod as the assistant, prone as well, held the chain of 8.5mm heavy rounds at the feed, prepared for the cycle to start, the weapons free order came at the sound of an air horn from the company first sergeant as the humanoid targets were propped up in random fashion, allowing the Aequatian infantry to open fire.

The weapons were all customized in some fashion for the desert's mechanized warfare with most of the weapons being painted over with tan or the standard blotched saffron/light brown scheme that was popular among troops copying the same fashion used by special forces troopers, many of the soldiers used carbines while those who carried the standard issue G28A1 rifle had replaced the solid polymer/steel-skeleton buttstock with the G65A3 carbine's adjustable model, making it easier to use within the confines of the Spartan armoured carrier, but retaining the standard-length barrel of the weapon. Many of the riflemen had attached small weights, likely from fishing kits or tire balancing, and had attached them to the ejection port covers in order to keep them closed as often as possible and prevent the sand or dust from endangering the weapon's firing mechanism or chamber, a lesson hard-learned from the Republic's days long ago of using the AR-15 platform for their service rifles. Automatic riflemen equipped with the MG66A2 section automatic weapon had done the same, removing the steel skeleton stock with a "parachute" model adjustable or those from the G65A3.

The staccato of semi-automatic rifle fire, drowned by the short bursts from the light machine guns and the sustained lengths from the medium weapons, continued as they engaged the targets, the designated marksmen for each section, armed with the common SSG90A1 took careful aim with their weapons as they engaged the further targets and only occasionally fired while those armed with the massive SMAW-90 anti-tank launchers took aim with their weapons' muzzles pointing skyward as the compressed gas of the soft launch propelled them from the canisters and into the air before firing their primary motors and soaring off into the sky before crashing down onto the weak top armour of the M113A5 and M55 targets provided for them, detonating. The first sergeant called a cease fire, his message traveling down the line as each soldier set the safeties of their weapons on, removed the magazines and ammunition belts and cleared the chambers before standing up and back from the firing line as the Russkyan platoon was to take their place.

Ostarhilde's left hand wavered from the wrist on a flat plane, left to right with loose fingers, the hand gesture signifying not sure, but. "Sniper platoon from the Regs, so I'm pretty sure there's a full thirty. Ten to fifteen teams, though, depending on mission requirements."
Out by the Zulu Mk. IV MBT, the Russkyan crewman looked across the desert in the direction of the only wadi he could remember seeing on the map. "Dry now, though. Bloody parching out here. At least it gets cooler during the night - can you fry eggs on your glacis plate? We tried it earlier on the commander's hatch, since I figured frying an egg on a overheated ERA cover-plate was a bad idea, and only got it half-cooked before he showed up from the O-Group."

On the ranges, the Russkyan platoon dismounted their vehicles and formed a firing line by sections, section GPMGs being bedded down onto sustained fire equipment taken from the tracks while the platoon marksman settled down into a braced cross-legged position and the other Panzergrenadiers found comfortable positions in the sand. The platoon commander dropped his left arm, and section NCOs bellowed firing orders and targets, practicing this rare opportunity for controlled fires. An RPG-7V thumped backwards into the gunner's shoulder, the PG-7VR warhead slamming into a armoured target and detonating its tandem shaped charge payload. A moment later, another RPG-7V landed an OG-7V fragmentation projectile amongst a small cluster of targets, who were also liberally splashed with fragments from the T-04A2 UBGL issued to a handful of the grenadiers for comparison with the older T-03. One of the riflemen fired his GWS.81a LAAW from the prone position, careful to keep his legs clear of the backblast zone and the rocket travelled a short arc to detonate against an already "killed" target.

Prone in the soft sand, a Grenadier fought to keep a stable shooting position and eventually found a workable compromise between what he wanted to do and what the sand would allow. Lowering his head to the iron sights of his MBRS rifle, he engaged targets at three hundred meters, the rifle recoiling against his shoulde with each pull of the trigger. The bolt cycled back against its return spring, ejecting the spent casing and then the ejection port shut itself again as the bolt went forwards, a built-in precaution against environmental fouling. Smiling slightly, the soldier switched to automatic as his fireteam was ordered to engage an area target at six hundred meters, adjusting his sights appropriately before kneeling and firing once more with his three companions. He blinked, trying in vain to force the mirage away, and adjusted his fire as ordered, slowly learning - as was the rest of the Brigade, with continued range-work - how to adjust to firing through mirage to produce more efficient fire.

The Marine leader listened as the brigadier spoke, his assistant wrote on a small notepad before quietly consulting with Rottman and allowing the master gunny to address Ostarhilde, "All right, a platoon is a good size to work with," He said as the E-8 assistant spoke with the other Marine snipers, "We are going to set up our accommodations and we'll start with a quick orientation today, two hours time with your snipers assembled here."

The corporal smiled, "Oh, it cools off in the evening and it's nice for the 'magic hour' before the sun sets behind the horizon," He said fixing his issue face scarf, "Then it gets unbearably cold once it's dark. The desert is a region of stupid opposite extremes, hence why we're issued with those," He explained as he pointed out one of the darker coats worn by an Aequatian sergeant walking with his infantry section, the pixellated green and dark green swathes were broken up with a black grid pattern, "The grid pattern helps with infrared scattering while the green distorts the body's outline in the green colour of normal image intensifier goggles. Its button-in liner and hood are good for keeping you warm when you're outside a vehicle, plus it helps to have as extra weather gear. It just sucks that the infantry get them more than we do. As for the fried eggs, yeah, we've cooked the entire platoon's breakfast on the Mac's plating in the morning sun, the heat absorbing materials in the armour are good at both hiding us through IR glasses and retaining heat for cooking a few things."

Potter watched as the Russkyans took their turn on the firing line, standing next to the company first sergeant as she replaced the collected empty magazines back inside the pouches attached to her webbing. The allied soldiers were taking well to the desert's environment, either that or they were hiding their frustrations well with the sand and heat. The platoon sergeant took the break time to fill her canteens from the water trailer which had arrived with the mess section, the other platoon riflemen and soldiers had the same mindset as they were gathered around the bulbous tan-coloured tank mounted on a single-axle trailer.

The tank crewman nodded at the Aequatian's last statement. "We had something similar. I think its being redone to be reissued, I'm not entirely sure. And it sounds like your armour plating has some of the same stuff that our Nadyasha covers do, absorbs the heat and reduces signature."

On the range, the Russkyans finished except for two Panzergrenadier NCOs who were attempting to explain the new combat rifle range at NORDLAND to a handful of the new recruits. Besides a "Hogan's Alley" style environment in which to move and fire, there was the conventional firing line with different procedures. The juniormost NCO there picked up two loaded magazines, stripped off his combat webbing and tossed it to an observing soldier, before nodding his readiness to the other NCO.

Without hesitation, that NCO stepped in towards the other to stand alongside and swung one leg back across his knees, neatly executing a hip throw in the process where the other man rolled across the sand, keeping his rifle tucked closely to his body, rolling up into a kneel. Freeing one magazine from its pouch, he deftly loaded the MBRS rifle just in time to be shoved from his kneeling position, where he flung himself over onto his back and racked the charging handle back to chamber a round. Bringing his rifle to his shoulder in the prone position, flipping over onto his stomach as the charging handle slammed forward, he disengaged the safety and brought down three targets with quick and accurate double-taps, practically no pause between the shots so that it nearly sounded like automatic fire. The other NCO dug down with his boot to ensure at least a foot of sand before any rocks or the like, and brought the safety off his weapon, flicking the fire selector down to full automatic. Kneeling, the other NCO continued his double-tapping before a swift knee to the shoulder sent him sprawling onto the ground.

Despite this, he maintained his grip on his rifle and rolled up into another kneeling position, firing another series of double-taps. Three rounds were expended on a target close in with two to the chest and the third hitting the throat rather than the head, and a fourth hit a target at the two hundred meter mark as one round before the bolt locked back and he unloaded his rifle quickly, dropping the magazine down the neck of his tucked-in undershirt. The flat of the rifle's reciever was used to push him into the sand, where he freed another magazine from its place in his pocket, and fumbled it, dropping it in the sand. Bellowing as many of the instructors did at NORDLAND, the other NCO fired a short burst into the sand near the soldier who flipped up onto his front with his rifle grasped in both hands, executing five rapid pushups against the soft sand of the range. Reaching down with one hand the senior NCO pushed him off balance as he regained his knees, but much to his credit the junior NCO was able to retrieve his magazine as his counterpart screamed "Load your rifle! Faster!" no more than two feet away from his ear.

Despite the short burst near his right knee, the JNCO reloaded his rifle deftly and fired his full magazine in under thirty seconds with aimed single shots, the vast majority of which were quite accurate. Standing, he retrieved his webbing, brushing sand from his uniform and shook hands with his senior, the other men somewhat disbelieving of the new tactic now being used to train some of the fresh recruits, and used on the non combat-experienced personnel running through their refreshers at NORDLAND. Brutal, but found to be more than effective.

Ostarhilde acknowledged the senior Marine NCO, and the appropriate arrangements were made quickly and efficiently, as was the tendancy of the Russkyan Military. The Scharfschuetzenzug - Sniper Platoon - was gathered together from their various training exercises, and all men kitted up with water, their ghillie suits, rifles, and other battle equipment. Most of the snipers used privately purchased canvas "assault bags" to stow their ghillies in, and opted instead to wear the issued desert combat uniform in lieu of the heavier ghillie with the bagged camouflage slung over their shoulders by the straps of the assault bag. A few sat cross legged in the sand with their spotters, near where they presumed the meeting with the ARMC snipers would be. One, his spotter sitting beside him in the traditional Japanese kneeling pose with his ankles tucked up underneath him, read a well-thumbed paperback book, face serene. His spotter's face was equally serene and shaded by the wide-brimmed cap he wore. With deft movements he broke down and then reassembled his rifle by feel alone. Waiting two minutes, he did it again. Another two minutes, and again. He stopped after doing it four times, smoothly transitioning to a cross-legged pose where he pulled his own book from the bottom cargo pocket of his combat jacket. Pausing slightly, he looked up at the ARMC snipers making their preparations, then returned to his novel.

"Infrared isn't something that most armed forces consider equipping their ground troops with for some reason, believing that night intensification is more than enough," Said the corporal, "Those that do have IR-capable viewers are always of poor quality and even though our countermeasures don't make us invisible, it certainly helps when their gunners can't tell the difference between the weaker engine compartment area and the front hull."

Potter and the other staff sergeants looked on at the Russkyan display, "Rather brutal, don't you think?" Asked a Mess section technician as he measured the gauge on the water tank.

The sergeant shook her head no as she took a drink, "Not at all, you need to be hard with these boys and girls, otherwise they don't learn it well enough and it costs you at times when it really counts."

Rottman and his squad of Marine scout snipers and observers stood before the Russkyans as the SNCO examined each of them personally in his head, looking at the details put into their uniforms, combat webgear and weapons. He was impressed by them, knowing that Russkyans meant good soldering, but this was his playground and good soldiering would not be enough for him. "Greetings, I am Master Gunnery Sergeant Rottman of the Aequatian Republic Marine Corps, I've been called down here to teach you boys how to shoot and hide properly in my desert. You may say that there's no such thing as cover in the desert, well I'm afraid that's bullshit, cover is what you make of it." As Rottman finished speaking, one of the Marines emerged from the sand as it fell off the material of his cloak and onto the ground as he racked the bolt on his SSG-30, lifted his facemask and grinned at the stunned Russkyans, his white teeth standing out in the shadow of his tropical hat. "A single man with a scoped rifle can wreck havoc on an enemy formation in the open desert, if he can hide properly, now pick up your shit, we're stepping outside," He said motioning to the waiting Army humvees.

Nonplussed by the sudden arrival of the Aequatian sniper rising from the sand - though many of his comrades were startled - the one spotter who'd expected such a dramatic entrance from the "Sandkings" as the Aequatians were becoming known to their Russkyan counterparts simply got to his feet, picking up his camouflaged MBRS rifle before heading towards the 'humvee' vehicles. The adjusted ghillies worn by the Russkyan Regular Army Snipers had been tested in the field by themselves, but all were eager to learn from the ARMC, sensing the desert talents of these stalkers and sharpshooters.

"I noticed that earlier, yes. While the Zulu here doesn't have infrared countering materials built into her armour yet, the new tank will, and will even be supplemented by the Nadyasha I mentioned earlier. The infrared viewers on our vehicles and gunsights are much, much better than usual I suspect... but our Infantry don't have anything like that, to my knowledge. Perhaps some special rifle optics, I wouldn't know.
What do you carry for personal defence, if you have to bail out of your machine? At NORDLAND, my instructor carried a sawn-down SVT-40 battlerifle with him, ancient thing but it worked beautifully out in the steppes. We've got these pistol pockets on our panzerkomplis, they're great but hey, a handgun is what you use to fight your way back to your rifle. Does the "Mack" have much room for small arms for your use?"

The tanker swung himself up deftly onto the engine deck of the Mackall and crouched on the turret roof under the high desert sun, almost white in its intense glare, though no man was foolhardly enough - though they would have said anything from "mentally handicapped" to "fucking retarded" in relation to this thought - to look up into the azure blue sky to check on the sun itself.

The corporal reached over the armour of the tank and retrieved his personal weapon from the driver's compartment, a small MP45 submachinegun before climbing up onto the turret and holding it out for the Russkyan tanker to see it, "Standard issue defence weapon for drivers and commanders, gunners and loaders get the newer G102 'Commando' short carbine developed for special forces," He said pointing to the stored rifle inside the turret at the loader's seat as the young private looked over his station.

The humvees rode over the sand well, their suspensions and wide wheelbase allowed them to "crawl" as was mentioned in Aequatian field manuals when in the desert. One of the Marine snipers peered through his telescope into the distance as they drove to the waiting rifle range placed atop a large berm that had been formed by the wind, it was high enough to overlook the camp and was far enough away that they would be uninterrupted in their activities. As the vehicles came to a halt, Rottman stepped out from the passenger's seat and onto the sand. The other marines and Russkyans followed suit as the senior NCO stood before them again, "First lesson we'll be covering is concealment within the desert, using the sand to your advantage instead of a hindrance. Being that the terrain is generally flat, the desert does not provide you with the same cover as woodland or alpine settings, so that means that said cover must be created by yourself. When presented with a particularly high berm or hill, you can dig into the side and create a small makeshift laavu with bracing against the sand to provide you with a concealed position, although it is best for stand-off distances using high-velocity and anti-material rifles like Jefferson's SSG20 rifle," He said pointing to a marine hefting the massive weapon, "Although time-consuming in construction compared to other cover, this will conceal you well against detection and the same flat terrain will provide you with one of the greatest fields of fire available."

Many of the sniper/spotter pairs had notebooks out. To the ARMC cadre, it would be apparent that at the moment, none of them were writing anything. As to why, that would be because the most recently made point is that a constructed hide had exactly the same benefits and disadvantages as in a temperate environment.

"Presumably the desert wind would make anchoring of any concealing sheet-like material a nessecary modification," said one sniper,
"and given that, what is the effectiveness of using say, desert camouflage netting as a 'light ghillie' or a cover for use when firing from the prone in this type of terrain? What of a light sheet coated in glue and then sand? And since I don't have any large-scale overheads of this area, are there any exposed rock formations nearby in which it would be easier to hide than out here in the 'wide yellow yonder?'"
These last three words were accented with a fair imitation of a Southern-States American accent and delivered in deadpan.

On the roof of the Mackall's turret, the tanker nodded approvingly, impressed with the short G102 rifle. "We sometimes get MBRS rifles for this use. A few times we've experimented with FN P90s or automatic handguns with detatchable stocks, et cetera. As of yet they haven't issued a custom solution - though we don't have a whole lot of issue with the MBRS, I quite like it."

"I hope you're not getting ahead of me, son," Rottman said with a stone's expression as he continued, "Anchoring is necessary, as the open terrain allows for a wind strong enough to take the ugly off your Mama's face and will rip it out of the ground if you do not secure it properly, which will then get you fucking killed," explained the senior sergeant as he walked over to one of the standing Marine snipers, "Locke here has constructed his own ghillie from a borrowed aviator's flightsuit for desert climates along with a cloak produced from a lightweight jungle raincover. He's painted it in a light tan colour and sprayed it down with an aerosol glue and dumped in sand, providing him with the lightweight desert cover, in addition to anything else he would employ once in the field." A large rock formation sat at the entrance of an old cave alongside a small exposed rockface of a mesa, Rottman pointed to it, "While rock formations may seem like a tempting place to fire from, their height creates an exposed position that you don't need. Use them as daymarks for navigation only, blending to the sand is by far your best bet for remaining concealed and allow you to be the most effective in your shooting."

The corporal nodded as he set the MP45 to its leg holster, "The Armour's commander in TRADOC is looking to get the '102 as standard vehicle issue for us, we're all hoping for it too."

Harrison's aide de camp, an older sergeant, approached the command tent of Brigadier Ostarhilde as he stepped down from the Cougar humvee, his tropical boonie hat secured to his head as he grabbed a folder off the dashboard along with his small digital handheld Razzberry device, the military issue being a simple black compared to the plentiful colours available to the civilian market.

At the mention of Locke's methods of concealment the Russkyan Army snipers and spotters made their notes in neat Cryllic script in pencil on their OD Green notepads. The sniper who'd asked the question about rockfaces sketched in a quick relief of the mesa's rockface and cave, writing in underneath the sketch: Western Desert apparently devoid of rockfields, avoid heights as always.

One of the FG guarding the command tent's entrance waved Harrison's aide-de-camp inside, where he was intercepted by one of Ostarhilde's aide-de-camps, a youngish Hauptmann with four topographic maps rolled up and tucked under his left arm.

The lecture was kept short by the Master Gunnery Sergeant as he much preferred practical application and physical learning over sitting in the sand or classrooms to educate soldiers. The Russkyan scouts were informed that each team had a particular target assigned to each respective team present in the surrounding desert which was approximately three hundred hectares in size, with the Marine marksmen about looking for their counterparts and monitoring the lessons. Rottman also issued one last warning to the Russkyans as he released them to the desert, "God help you if I or one of my non-comms spots you... because we certainly won't."

The sergeant removed his hat and stuffed it into a pocket on his fatigues as he greeted the aide-de-camp in the command tent, "I'm here to deliver a message for Brigadier Osterhilde concerning the scheduling for the exercises, he is to meet with Brigadier Harrison at 13:15 where the events will be scheduled and planned," He said as he provided the officer with a note with the same information to present to his superior.

The 1st Brigade, 14th Armoured Division troops were busy in their own camp at the opposite corner of the training grounds as they prepared for the coming exercises, running company and even a few battalion-level maneuvers in the desert as the vehicles and personnel acclimatized themselves to the desert environment.

The Captain nodded and checked his wristwatch. "It is twelve fifty hours now, Sergeant. I will inform my commander and we'll be there by thirteen ten hours. If you'd like, cold drinks in the two fridges by the tent wall and a coffeemaker is around here somewheres. In this heat though, I don't think it's seeing much use." He placed the maps infront of a geographic technician and retrieved his own cap from its place under the shoulder strap of his battledress jacket.

"Just a moment, Sergeant."

Ducking through a partition he stood infront of an doorway, sans door, and knocked on the wooden "duck boards" that served as flooring in the command tent. Ostarhilde looked up from his novel, an American book written by a US Army Major, titled "Tin Soldiers."

"Yes, Hauptmann?"
"Sir, the Aequatian aide-de-camp is here respectfully reminding you of your appointment with Brigadier Harrison."
"Excellent timing, I just finished this chapter. Inform the aide that we will be leaving within five minutes, I trust that you've already offered him refreshments, and notify First Brigade that they are to be prepared for joint training exercises no later than thirteen thirty hours."
"Zu befehl, Herr Brigadier-General."

Yes, thought Ostarhilde. That would do quite nicely. Fairly certain that they've still got at least two battalions tied in with their "panzers" and have been conducting their own training. Acclimatized by now, certainly. Where'd I put that bookmark? Ah yes.

Marking his place in his book, he left it on the "ready bunk" and picked up his cap and goggles on the way out the door, greeting the Aequatian NCO as the entourage left the command tent complex.

The sergeant waited outside at the Cougar "G.P." vehicle, not sure if the Russkyan general would be accompanying himself or following in his own vehicle. In any case, the journey would not be far to the helicopter pad where Harrison had just arrived in one of the small MH-10D Raven liaison and command helicopters from his own command post across the "Sandbox". the brigadier awaited the arrival of his counterpart as he stood in the shade of the light helicopter.

The 1st Brigade, 14th Armoured Division, was one of the few "legacy" forces remaining fully intact since the last reorganization despite the fact that it was no longer considered for many expeditionary combat operations with CENTCOM. They had been designated as the Army's official desert Opposing Force training unit, and although they were a full division on paper, the reality was quite different. The only full maneuver force was the first brigade, equipped with the equipment common to an armoured infantry brigade such as the Mackall main battle tanks and Spartan mechanized combat vehicles. The other two maneuver brigades existed virtually and were used in simulated exercises for logistics personnel at the Army Quartermasters School's Desert Operations Phase. The only other units that physically existed on the ground was a single battalion of 155mm self-propelled field artillery, an air defence artillery company and a provisional aviation battalion, consisting of a combination of utility, attack and heavy-lift helicopters.

The only outside Army units to participate in the OPFOR exercises with the 14th Armoured were members from the nearby 17th Special Forces Group (Airborne), slated for operations in desert nations, who provided the OPFOR with personnel for use as either enemy special operations forces, rebel guerrillas or even as nomadic "Bedouins" or other irregular, but armed, individuals. From time to time, the 17th SFGA troopers were known to infiltrate into the headquarters of visiting battalions in Red Cell operations, even once eliminating the entire headquarters and command staff of an unlucky and weary National Guard battalion attached to a regular brigade for training. The Russkyans were well-warned of the roving threat of the bored Special Forces soldiers.

The decision of the Army Chief of Staff to establish OPFOR training units was made with the recent surge of foreign missions being undertaken by the Aequatian Republic and the variety of hostile nations being faced during expeditionary operations. The need for the Army to be even more prepared for such operations made the OPFOR a necessary addition to the order of battle, as the realistic training meant that, hopefully, the Army would suffer fewer casualties when in the field. In the light of joint operations, however, it was decided to also integrate the Aequatian Republic Marine Corps into the Army training, so that both branches may benefit from the training. The ARMC had a long tradition of excellent training afforded to them with the 20th Marine Division, which consisted of not only the basic training regiments, but also the combat application schools, such as the Jungle Warfare Readiness Centre in the Central Jada Rainforest near Espandor.

Ostarhilde made his way into his counterpart's command tent after a short journey. Outside, his vehicle's driver and that of his Aequatian escort's chatted in the shade about the difficulties of navigating sands in a wheeled vehicle, and No. 1 Brigade, "Desert Cadre," stood to their vehicles, ready for operations. Crewmen and soldiers rested in whatever shade they could find, extra rations and water were brought up, and vehicles were triple-checked along with navigational equipment.

Although probably not on par with the Aequatians, who'd been nicknamed "Mechanized Bedouin" for their desert capabilities, the Russko-Germans hoped to give these armoured Bedouin a challenge at the very least.

[OOC: The next section will be written by Aequatio, based on an over-MSN conversation as to what the two commanders will discuss and dialogue in particular.]