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The Morlocova Crisis

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  • The Morlocova Crisis

    Hi everyone. This is my first attempt at a story here so feel free to comment/criticize/write death threats. Note also that my story is not completely Civ3 based. Anyway, here goes.

    For years now the island of Morlocova have been the centre of disputes and wars between the governments of the United States and the German-Russian alliance. This chain of small islands have been deemed "Most unsuitable for human colonisation" by explorers all over the world and for good reason. They are remote, they are hot, humid and tropical monsoons inundate the island with up to 50mm of rain every day for 3 weeks. On the island, where there isn't dense, humid tropical rainforest, there is scorching hot, arid desert. Indeed Morlocova is not the most plesant of places to be, but one small factor attracts the governments of worlds to the island like flies to a rotting piece of meat. That factor is the elusive resource Uranium. It is unknown why uranium sources only appear on Morlocova, no nation seems willing to try and explain this phenomenon either, all they want is to try and exploit the resources as quickly as they can.

    Seventy years ago, the Americans detonated a device in near the deserts of New York. That device was the Manhattan Project. Russian spies quickly acquired the schematics for this device, they sold it to their allies the Germans who traded it to the Chinese who sold it to the Indians and so on. With the world becomming nuclear-aware, and governments everwhere realising that control of nuclear arms was crucial to victory, the focus of the world shifted from the Sino-Mongolian border disputes and the Franco-Japanese war to the island of Morlocova. Peace treaties between nations were quickly signed, but only so those nations could rebuild their tattered militaries. Twenty years ago, on November the 8th 2034, the first of the Uranium Wars began. No single nation held onto the uranium resources long enough to utilise it, and when the dust settled in 2037, nearly all other nations of the world had been either conqured, annexed or destroyed by either the Germans, Russians, or Americans. The Americans had by far captured the most land, and also won the Uranium War and began manufacturing nuclear weapons. The Germans and Russians signed the Dresden Pact of 2040 in order to protect eachother from the Americans.

    The year is now 2054. The uneasy silence between the Russo-German Alliance and the United States has been replaced by nerve wracking tension. A German spy was caught in the city of Manchester, on his way to Washington DC carrying what has been described as a "Water borne Nerve Agent", American F-15s patrolling the skies over Russian occupied France have bombed a small township claiming it had radar guided missiles locked onto them, the Russians have re-emerged from a peroid of unrest and christened their new nation as the Soviet Union and have implemented a strong Anti-American policy. American troops have been triple reinforced on Morlocova, the combined Soviet-German fleet is nearing Morlocova, troops are rallied, tanks are reactivated, the second of the Uranium Wars is looming on the horizon.

  • #2
    Russians again! Hehe, isn't it funny that nobody wrote much about them, and now there are three stories where they are present almost at the same time?

    Any way, looks like an interesting beginning. I know some people have been getting tired of the 'classic' civ stories, like this one appears to be - one that focuses on a clash of nations, - but this nonetheless lokks to me like a promising start. Please go on.
    Last edited by vovan; November 12, 2002, 11:41.
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    • #3
      Interesting start, good hook please continue!
      A proud member of the "Apolyton Story Writers Guild".There are many great stories at the Civ 3 stories forum, do yourself a favour and visit the forum. Lose yourself in one of many epic tales and be inspired to write yourself, as I was.


      • #4
        Mr. Luftwaffe, looks like a nice war is brewing. Bring on the carnage! Everyone should try to land on that island at the same time and have a battle royal in the rain.
        Last edited by unscratchedfoot; November 12, 2002, 00:43.
        Here is an interesting scenario to check out. The Vietnam war is cool.


        • #5

          EDIT: Okay, if you want to play with the 'edit' button, scratchy, so be it.
          Last edited by vovan; November 12, 2002, 11:43.
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 (login required)
          Halo 3 Service Record (I fail at FPS...)
          Spore page


          • #6
            Thanks for those replies guys! Here's the second part:

            Landing craft 03. Bravo Wave. 0405 hours. 3 kilometres from the shore
            A icy cold spray of salty water woke Hans up from his daydream. He was sitting with 31 other marines in a German made "Invader" landing craft which was in line with 10 others just like it, carrying human cargo, just like his one. The spray kept flying over the edge of the craft and landing on the soldiers' faces, wetting their boots, seeping into their packs. They all kept hard, emotionless faces however, this was "Quiet Time" as the marines called it, a time when they'd all take a moment to remember their loved ones, friends, family, pet dogs, whatever they treasured in their lives because all of them knew that these thoughts may be the last times they see those loved ones again.

            Hans peered through the observation slit on the landing craft's front door. He could make out a faint outline that was the beach. Off the beach he could see thick black smoke, thousands of tracer rounds being fired off from machine gun nests, and although the beach was still a matter of minutes away, he knew he could hear the screams of Alpha wave's brave soldiers as they were cut down, limbs torn off, flesh shredded by American machineguns and motars. "Alright men! Let's get ready to disembark! Prepare for battle as soon as we hit shore! Remember the briefing! Good luck to all you men!" Hans' company seargent shouted over the din, by now the motar shells were splashing around his landing craft and bullets were wizzing overhead. To his left, a motar shell scored a direct hit on a landing craft, sending pieces of gore, metal and gear soaring in all directions. The guy behind Hans vomited. Hans gritted his teeth and mentally prepared for the battle, he was only the 3rd person from the door, and he knew he'd have to be quick. The landing craft suddenly buckled and jerked, the bay door fell down and the guy in front got hit in the chest with an American sniper's shot. The contents of the landing craft poured onto the beach, they waded across the water, they hid behind hedgehogs, and they advanced under constant fire. Hans ran up the beach, but only made about 2 metres worth of progress before being forced to hide behind a iron and wood barricade. Around him, his fellow soldiers were being slaughtered, their blood making the sand a dark crimson colour. Hans peered over the top of the barricade, he spotted an American machine gun nest firing off rounds at the soldiers on the beach. Lifting his MP-80 Assault rifle, he fired off a burst of 5 rounds before realising at that distance, he wasn't going to hit anything.

            The beach was a narrow, long strip of sand down the eastern coast of Morlocova. It consisted of a beach which went for 10 metres, then there was a brick wall about 1 metre high, behind the wall was a trench running parrallel to the beach, behind the trench was a series of small hills pockmarked with machine guns, barbed wire and bunkers. Hans knew that he had to regroup with the remainders of his squad who were crouched behind the brick wall, firing off shots when the opportunity presented itself. Mustering his stamina, courage and strenght, Hans made a quick dash across the beach to the wall about 7 metres away. He ran as fast as he could under the weight of his pack, rifle and armour. When he was only 1 metre from the wall, he made a headfirst dive, narrowly missing a stream of red hot bullets that shredded the sand which he was standing on a few seconds ago. "Hans!" greeted one of the soldiers, "Good to see you made it! Here, help us set up the charge" said the soldier as he handed Hans a small satched charge. Hans inserted the green packed into a gap in the wall caused by a missing brick and gestured the "OK" signal to his friend, who then shouted "Alright everyone! Get the hell back!!". Everyone behind the wall shuffled and scurried back as he touched off the charges. A massive explosion and a shower of debris and rubble later, a hole 4 metres across had been blown in the wall, several other of these holes were also being produced all around the beach. The holes were like a massive, loud, dirty green light for the German marines who then began to pour through, charging up the American hills with little regard for life or limb. Many were mown down on the hills, and those that made it fired their assault rifles furiously onto the Americans, shredding their uniforms, flesh, bone and organs. Several Americans tried to use their bayonetts on the Germans, who responded by shooting them at point blank range. Hans climbed to the top of the hill, one American corpses were slung over the machine gun and the rest lay on the ground, their limbs twisted into grotesque shaps. From the hill Hans looked to the ocean, Charlie wave was closing in, looking back, Hans saw the remaining American forces flee to the deserts to the west. The beach was littered with the countless corpses of German marines, the sand was a dark crimson shade and everywhere he looked, there were bodies or parts of them. Hans stared out at the waves and wondered, if they were to pay such a heavy price for just a beach, then what would they have to sacrifice for the Uranium?


            • #7
              Like It !!
              A proud member of the "Apolyton Story Writers Guild".There are many great stories at the Civ 3 stories forum, do yourself a favour and visit the forum. Lose yourself in one of many epic tales and be inspired to write yourself, as I was.


              • #8
                Cool. I hope there are lots more battles like this one coming.
                Here is an interesting scenario to check out. The Vietnam war is cool.


                • #9
                  people. Thanks for your comments . Anyway, here is my next installment in the Morlocova Crisis series, it's from the perspective of an American infantryman, Matt Brown. Guess who the next installment is going to be based on...enjoy!

                  Camp Foxtrot aka Monkey Cesspool. 0301 hrs.
                  "Monkey ****" thought Matt as he lifted a spoonfull of his stew and inspected it. He thought he saw something move. The food being served to the American soldiers on Morlocova was nearly as bad as the conditions they had to endure. Today's breakfast was beef stew, atleast it had been beef sometime during the past century. It was now just brown chunks of spongy, styrofoam flavoured meat floating in a watery brown stew. Matt took a deep breath and shoved the spoon into his mouth, and into his throat in order to allow as little of the stew to make contact with his tounge. As he withdrew the spoon he shuddered with disgust and thought to himself the thought, the thought that had kept him going for all this time, "Just 2 more weeks of this and I'm rotating back!" he thought over and over and he continued spooning the stew into his mouth.

                  The old "Mule" half track's engine roared and it's exhaust blew out thick black smoke as it tore it's way down the old, pot hole riddled dirt road towards the Drop Zone. Matt wondered why his platoon was still stuck with these obsolete old trucks instead of being given new "Leopard" APCs. Then he remembered, the same reason his platoon ate crap even though it was a simple process to refrigerate good food, they were stationed on an obscure side of Morlocova, a side nobody would care to attack from, all the good stuff goes to the boys at the Northern Line. He looked foward, his truck was second in the convoy, right behind the platoon commander's jeep, behind him were 4 other similar trucks, all carrying soldiers. Behind the trucks carrying fighters, there was a medical truck, or as they were known "Battlefield medicine". The convoy tore down the old worn out road, and suddenly came to a stop at a small clearing. Everyone on the truck jerked to the front and got up. "Disembark, all!" yelled the platoon commander as the men poured from the trucks streching their tired, aching musscles and reloading their old bolt action rifles. They didn't get modern rifles, they weren't deemed important enough by the brass. With heavy packs on their backs and marching songs drowning out the sounds of their rubber boots treading on the harsh desert sand, Matt and the rest of the 92nd Infantry Platoon marched eastward to their destination.

                  0302 hrs. Beach-station 12.
                  The platoon dug into their positions as the previous squad hobbled off in the direction of the trucks. They knew nothing was going to happend, nothing ever did, all there was to do was to look out at the ocean and finish off their daily tobacco and booze rations. Matt climbed the stone stairs leading to a machine gun nest on the top of a small hill. The machine gun was atleast decent quality. It was manufactured in England, a "Martin-Stirling 7.92 Shredder". Matt got on his belly and positioned his hands on the machinegun as two of his buddies went prone to his right, ready to start feeding the machinegun it's ammo belts. Time went by and nothing happened, Matt and the rest of his gun crew had descended into a more relaxed position now, he had turned onto his back and was enjoying the sun's rays on his face, his buddies were sitting facing each other and playing chess on a small magnetic board. "Check mate!" said the soldier facing towards Matt as he grinned while the other one handed him a packet of tobacco and muttered obscenities under his breath.

                  0400 hr.
                  As Matt laid with his head resting on the butt of the machinegun, he thought he heard fire crackers. As he thought about it more he realised something, firecrackers weren't supposed to be let off, in fact, there aren't supposed to be any firecrackers on the island in the first place. Matt quickly lept up and looked around, the crew of the machinegun nest next to his were firing towards the beach. Guys on the side of the hills were firing their rifles in the same direction, firing and working the bolt action on their antiquated rifles. Matt quickly turned to face the beach and he saw in the distance an entire row of landing craft, quickly looking through his bionculars, he say that they all bore the emblem of the Royal Eagle. They were German. Quickly manning his machine gun, he started firing at one of the craft all the while his crew guided the ammo belts from their cases into the gun. The English sure knew something about making weapons, because as soon as the front bay door of the German landing craft crashed down, an entire row of soldiers were shredded before they could get off, the rest either jumped over the sides or they ran off. They ran in seemingly random directions, zigzagging and ducking behind things making it difficult to hit them, Matt decided to use the "Garden hose" technique, by spraying his fire around an entire area instead of concentrating on one bit. It worked, he succeeded in either pinning them down, injuring them or killing them outright, Matt started to grin with gruesome satisfaction as he kept on firing, trying to hit the ones that had hidden behind a stone wall, it was futile, the hardness of the stone combined with the distance reducing the velocity of the bullets meant nothing got through.

                  Before the first wave of invaders had been killed off, another wave was already on it's way, motar support had been radioed in to support the defenders, Matt saw a motar score a direct hit on a landing craft in the distance. The rest missed however, they splashed into the water near the crafts and made massive splashes that got into the boats. As the German marines stormed the crimson red beach, Matt decided to use the garden hose tactic again, but this time it didn't work as well. The second wave of invaders were seasoned indeed, they were agile and fearless, they ran and hit the sand and hid behind barricades with such guile and precision that they could only be veterans, experienced from either intense training or actual combat. The American defenders were firing on them as well as they could, but they were too quick, they ran fearlessly through a hail of American bullets, and while many of them were cut down on the beach, most of them made it behind the wall. From behind a barricade, a German soldier shot at Matt, his bullets narrowly missing him. Matt turned his attention to the barricade, but he just noticed something. The alloy barrel of his machinegun was sagging under the intense heat of thousands upon thousands of rounds of ammo being fired. He quickly swore under his breath and pulled and turned the barrel release lever on the side of his gun, the half melted barrel dropped onto the ground with a dull thud. "Reload!" shouted Matt, but it was unneeded, his crew had already gone to work, screwing on the new barrel, and doing other things all the while Matt saw the German behind the barricade get up and get ready to run. "Hurry!" Matt urged his crew as they gave him the all clear and he began firing again. The German made a frontal dive and the bullets from Matt's gun shredded the sand which he was standing on just a few seconds ago.

                  Now the remaining Germans were all hidden behind the stone wall running parrallel to the beach. The Americans stopped their gun fire and anticipated the German's next move. Matt saw an entire group of Germans moving away from a section of the wall, and before he could conclude that they were using satchel charges, one detonated and sent rubble flying everywhere. Elsewhere along the wall, several others detonated, and the Germans ran under the cover of the smoke and dust into the trenches, over them and onto the hills. The Germans charged up, shouting their warcrys and firing onto Matt and his buddies. One of his crew got shot through the head with what must've been a hollow point round, because his head exploded when the bullet impacted with it. The other had his chest ripped open by a spray of automatic gunfire. The Germans were nearly everywhere he looked, and some were already on their way up the hill he was on. Matt quickly put the body of one of his dead crew over the machine gun, and laid down. He then pulled the other guy over him and shut his eyes, playing possum.

                  The gunfire eventually stopped, and Matt was just about to open his eyes when he heard the crunching sound of a German boot next to his head. He could feel the presence of the soldier next to him. He heard him say "All this....for uranium".


                  • #10
                    Cool new idea: the battle from both sides' perspective. I also like the small things you added in like the chess game, the sun, older equip etc which added a lot to the realism of the situation (something I really need to work on in my stories).

                    So aren't the Russians supposed to be helping out the Germans here? I hope they land on the north shore and see what the Americans really got. It looks like the Americans are in a bit of trouble now that the Germans got a toehold on their island. I'm looking forward to some even bigger battles.
                    Here is an interesting scenario to check out. The Vietnam war is cool.


                    • #11
                      Another very good piece of the story, Keep it coming!
                      A proud member of the "Apolyton Story Writers Guild".There are many great stories at the Civ 3 stories forum, do yourself a favour and visit the forum. Lose yourself in one of many epic tales and be inspired to write yourself, as I was.


                      • #12
                        Thanks for your comments guys. It's doing wonders for my ego *jokes*

                        Here is the 4th part in my series (if you count the prologue) this time it's from the Russian's perspective.

                        Luska's Cafe. Paris, Russian occupied France. 1102 hr.
                        Ivan sat at a boothe near the end of the cafe. It was empty except for a few regulars hanging sitting at the bar. "That man must've nursed that one cup of coffe for about an hour now...", Ivan thought as he gazed at an elderly bearded man wearing a green sweater, hunched over a cup of coffee. An attractive young waitress walked over to where Ivan was sitting, "More coffee, mesiour?" she asked. "No thank you." Ivan responded. The coffee here was horrible. It was one of the main reasons nobody ever came here, that and the fact it lay within the Docks District of Paris, which was not the most plesant of all neigbourhoods. Ivan could remember one time during the first Uranium War, when an entire Russian infantry division was driven out of Paris by 20000 odd French sailors and longshoresmen weilding lead pipes and bottles. Still, despite it's poor location and bad coffee, the cafe's privacy was the main incentive for Ivan's visit. He had been told to meet another agent, Sergei here at 1105. Ivan looked down at his wristwatch, only 1 more minute.

                        Sergei, Ivan's superior was always on time and today was no exception. As soon as the second hand on Ivan's watch hit the 12, the chimes on the door rattled and a cold breeze flew into the room. A man wearing a long grey trenchcoat and sporting a serious face walked in. It was Sergei. Sergei walked past the old man in the green sweater and the waitress, paying them no attention, he walked directly to the boothe Ivan was sitting at and sat down opposite him. Not saying a single word he pulled out from his trenchcoat a yellow manila envelope. He put it down on the table and slid it across to Ivan. Ivan picked it up, opened it and lifted out the contents. The waitress asked Sergei what he wanted, he said he wanted nothing, he must've heard about how bad the coffee is. Included in the envelope was a sheet of paper, a report by the looks of it. Ivan read through the contents of the report and then looked at Sergei. "The Germans actually made it through?" Ivan asked after a breif silence. "Yes. I guess the beach was not as heavily fortified as you had anticipated, but no matter, this is only a minor setback." Sergei said as he leant back on his padded seat and light up a ciggerette, after taking a few drags, he got out another envelope and handed it to Ivan, "New orders. Remeber the procedure. I got to go now. Goodbye" he said as he stood up to leave. Ivan looked at the envelope, plain and yellow, he looked up, Sergei was gone now.

                        Checking through his blinds, watching to see if anyone was observing him. Even though he had lived in the same apartment for 5 months, he still scrutinised every square inch of it, you could never be too careful of bugs or secret cameras. Satisfied that the security in his dingy 1 room apartment was at full integrity, Ivan opened the envelope from the cafe and poured it's contents onto a table located in the middle of the living room, which also doubled as a bedroom. Inside it were orders for his next assignment. A sheet of paper and a photograph. Ivan read the sheet of paper:

                        TO: Agent Ivan Smirnkov
                        FROM: The Bunker, Moscow
                        SUBJECT: New orders
                        SECURITY: A1

                        Everything from Moscow is A1 security, thought Ivan. He continued reading.

                        Germans made it through eastern fortification. They're still weak and recovering however. New orders: You are to goto a small Uranium mining town called Digger's Peak located near a Uranium mine in Morlocova...

                        Damn. Thought Ivan, an assignment in Morlocova was the last thing he wanted. He continued reading the letter.

                        Travel light. All equiptment will be provided for you on site. Once in the town, goto the miner's barracks, ask for a miner by the name of Ian Rudsky, claim to be his brother from America-England. Your accent is passable so don't worry. From then on he will give you your further instructions. Now for your travel plans....

                        How nice of Moscow, thought Ivan, to provide all the travel plans so he has to do nothing except turn up.

                        The flight was uneventful, from Paris to Vladovostok and then onto a small single engined light plane which flew him to a small island north of Morlocova. There Ivan was smuggled aboard an American workers shuttle carrying workers and settlers to Morlocova. America had begun trying to colonise Morlocova, but the inhospitable terrain, the jungle disease and poor ariable land meant only small towns littered the island landscape.

                        Grr..sorry people but I'll have to leave it there today. I've got too much to do, but I'll come back to it as soon as I can. Thanks for your patience and support. I guess this is one of those "TO BE CONTINUED" things, ehe? Yeah I hate them too.


                        • #13
                          Good descriptive writing again. I could even taste the foulness of the coffee it was so realistic. That cafe needs to package up some of that coffee and send it to the yankies eating that cruddy stew on Morocava for a tasty dinner set.

                          I smell treachery in the works. And dude, I really wanna see Russia have a go at morocava too and have another good slaughter.

                          frogface says, "Bring on the carnage!"
                          Here is an interesting scenario to check out. The Vietnam war is cool.


                          • #14
                            A proud member of the "Apolyton Story Writers Guild".There are many great stories at the Civ 3 stories forum, do yourself a favour and visit the forum. Lose yourself in one of many epic tales and be inspired to write yourself, as I was.


                            • #15
                              Hi guys. Sorry for the LONG delay between installments, but I've just been heaps busy...and i've been having some serious brain drain over the past days. But now it's all good. Here is the conclusion of Ivan's story.

                              Morlocova. 1433 hr. Digger's Peak - Population 5000.
                              Ivan walked out of the "Settlers and workers processing office" located near the outskirts of Digger's Peak, one of the many backwater miner towns set up by the Americans on Morlocova. The harsh, dry desert heat hit Ivan hard as he stepped from the cool airconditioned office building. Looking up the street he could see no tall buildings, the tallest structure visible was a water tower. The local temple was a rushed affair, from afar it looks as it were built of stone and motar, but if one inspects it closely enough they would find it to be nothing but sandstone render on cheap, prefabricated plasterboards. The rest of the street was made of plain looking whitewashed brick houses which housed mainly miners and their families. They all looked the same, save for numbers sprayed next to their doors in black spraypaint. Ivan started walking up the street, looking for number 17.

                              Eventually Ivan found number 17. It was located along a street with about 12 other houses, on the other side of the street was the city's grainary and bus depot. The depot served two purposes, one was to encourage people to use public transport and cut down on pollution levels which would only add to Morlocova's inhospitability. The other purpose of the buses was to ferry workers to and from work in the Uranium mines every day, from 7am to 8pm 6 days a week. It was Sunday so Ivan's contact was bound to be at home. Ivan walked up to the wooden door of the house and rappled on the door with his knuckles three times. A few seconds passed and nobody answered. Ivan knocked once more, this time the door swung open and Ivan met face to face with a man about his height, sporting a goatee and a neat buzzcut. "Yes?" the man asked. Ivan said nothing, instead, with his left arm dangling by his side, Ivan made the Spy's Signal with his left hand, it consisted of making an O shape with the thumb and finger while the other fingers are kept in a straight line. Acknowledging the signal the man gestured Ivan into his house and then after quickly scanning the street, closed the door.

                              The inside of the house was at a very comfortable temperature. One of the perks of being a miner for the Americans was a free airconditioner for every household, without one it would be impossible to get along. The house was a small one room affair, not unlike Ivan's apartment in Paris. It's walls were whitewashed and the room was kept in a permenant twilight because the only window had blinds pulled down over it. A table covered with papers and other paraphenelia was in the middle of the room, to one side was a small room containing a toilet and shower, and a small hotplate lay next to the toilet door. "My name is Boris. You must be Ivan." the goateed man finally said. "Yes, I was sent here by the bunker, they said you'd give me my orders" Ivan replied. "Yes yes, but you must be tired after that long trip, why don't you take a nap, sleep in my bed, I have to go out and arrange a few things anyway, I'll wake you once I get back." with that he opened the door and stepped into the blazing heat leaving Ivan in the cool, dark confines of the room. He was rather tired and so he lay down on the small single bed which lay in one corner of the room. Ivan fell asleep immediately, cooed to sleep by the gentle humming of the airconditioner.

                              "Wake up Ivan. Time to get to work." said a voice as Ivan blinked the sleep out of his eyes. It was Boris, he was standing over Ivan shaking him by the shoulders. "What time is it?" Ivan asked, Boris checked his wristwatch, "17:02, it's just after sunset" said Boris. "Damn, I slept for 3 hours" Ivan said, shaking his head and getting up. When he got up he looked on the table, the papers and other junk had been replaced, instead on the table lay two Russian PVK-02 submachine guns and two ammo belts. Ivan instinctively put on one of the ammo belts, and taking one submachinegun, locked and loaded in a new clip of ammo. "Not now, we won't need them yet" Boris said. Ivan sheepishly took off the ammo belt, unloaded the submachinegun and put it back on the table. The airconditioner was off now. Walking outside, Ivan spotted an American manufacturered "Pacifier" jeep. Boris and Ivan climbed aboard and Boris started to drive in the direction of east. They chatted as the jeep roared it's way through the streets of Digger's Peak, kicking up dust as it tore it's way down the dirt roads. "Tonight, all we're going to be doing is to go a few clicks east, the Germans managed to get ashore onto a beach about 30 kilometres east from here. They haven't gotten any vehicles yet, but we're thinking that they're still a couple days away because of the lack of roads and such." The jeep approached a roadblock being guarded by a single American soldier. "Damn. See that yellow paper on the dashboard?" Boris said as he used a finger to point at two pieces of yellow paper held on the dashboard by pieces of blu-tac. "Hold them up to the guard, but if he says he's never seen you before, tell him that you're one of the new mine inspectors" Boris told Ivan. "Got it" Ivan said acknowledgingly. Surprisingly however, the guard didn't ask a thing and let the two go through without a single question. "He must be new" Boris said with a sigh of relief.

                              The jeep was parked on the bottom of a hill, Boris and Ivan had climbed to the top and were now observing the German's encampment. The Germans' military doctrine dictated that once a beachhead is established, hold onto it and await the arrival of reinforcements, in this case, the all terrain vehicles. The Germans had made a neat encampment on a small plain about 1km south of the section of the beach they stormed. The camp was a square shape with one main gate and 10 guard nests placed at regular intervals. Boris observed the base with his binoculars as Ivan looked around for danger. Boris had put his binoculars away and was about to leave when Ivan spotted a small squad of German soldiers about 10 metres away, they had spotted them and began to fire their rifles while shouting at them, ordering them to halt. Ivan and Boris ran down the hill, at places actually sliding on their backs until they were at the jeep. With the Germans in pursuit, Ivan and Boris got on the jeep and sped away at full throttle. One bullet narrowly missed Ivan's arm and shattered the passenger's seat's rear view mirror. "Damn, I just got this jeep.." Boris muttered.