Play@YSDC

"Hmmm...Maybe...." pondered Birdy, his long finger tracing semi-purposeful lines round the map. "Here...no...maybe...."

He stabbed the map furiously. "Satan's Arsehole! we don't know where the hell we are!" he concluded. "And its cold, I'm tired, I'm hungry".

"Its in the lap of the Gods now, folks. Virgil, where are you?" he concluded, stomping off without purpose.

"Well, I have this other map, it's part of a map, maybe Birdie..." Richter tried pulling it out of his pocket, but the other soldier was already off shaking his head. "If anyone wants to take a look at it it, it's here."

"The map would be more helpful if we knew where we are on it right now," says Nick. Not much good at reading it, he instead examines the tracks. "Maybe they're ours, maybe they're not. I have no way to tell. Army boots are pretty much the same."

Freddy looks at the maps briefly, and for a moment he thought he had it, but quickly dismisses the thought.

Navigate,[dice]0[/dice]

Maybe we should mark the trees, Sergeant. And no, Birdy, not like that, you can keep your pants on.

With part of the squad arguing in hushed whispers the tracks were theirs, Maddox thinking they were German, and part of the squad wishing they paid more attention during field navigation - Maddox was getting angry.

"All right, God dammit!" he says, "Ryan, signal third platoon!" Pvt. Ryan crawls over to where the squad thinks 3rd platoon went and shots in a stage whisper: "Third platoon! Hey!"
Silence reigns...
There are a couple murmurs from the squad: "Are we lost too?" "Are we going around in circles?" "Damn, I can't see shit."
"We are NOT lost." Sgt. Maddox affirms, reaching for his compass. He stares intently at it, holding it scarcely an inch from his eyes. "Damn it all," he grumbles, settind down his rifle and fishing out a match. He strikes it against the brim of his helmet and rasies it to the compass face...




Everyone proceed to the new thread here: The Face of Battle