08 MAY 2003 / 2200 hours
3/103rd PHOENIX Camp
formerly RB Winter State Park
approx 25 km W of Lewisburg, PA
Sean grabbed his rifle and headed for the door. He signalled to Sherman that he was going around the back of the building to flank and Sherman should go the other way. Guiness stalked behind his friend not making a sound. The dog seemed somehow to have grown even bigger, his muscles in his flanks were tensed, his lips were pulled back showing his impressive teeth.
Sean glanced at him and couldn't help but smile...it looked like his dog was giving him a very maniacal smile, as if asking 'Fresh meat, Boss?...'
Despite training, and loyalty, the dog's animal instincts won out. Guiness' growling and barking continued, and escalated. As much as Sean might have liked to turn the four legged set of teeth on some enemy, there was always the chance that the person(s) outside were friendlies. And if not, the dog's growling would surely alert them that they had been discovered. Sean realized he probably should leave the animal inside. He continued with the plan, along with his militiaman as backup.
What is that? Cunningham had already considered going and have a look with his dog dutifully behind him. But then, no, the dog would stay behind. Maybe it's just something blowing against a wall, a loose piling, Sherman thought. But the way Guiness had assumed an aggressive posture, even its stubby tail was standing straight. Sherman was worried.
He indicated to those in the room to carry on as normal. He motioned to the two militia men guarding the breezeway, one to follow Cunningham, the other to go with him. Sherman then headed outside, trying not to make any noise.
Thankfully Sean had less distance to traverse in the dark. His ankle already throbbed, and he had been on it all too much this evening, helping the wounded and those tending to them. Well, if slow was all his legs could carry him, at least he could manage to be quiet in doing so. Both he and the militiaman, Tommy, had scoped bolt-action hunting rifles.
They rounded the SE corner of the Aid Station, and headed North. Sean heard the tapping sound even louder, and it was accompanied by the sound of digging. The noise was easy for him to identify -- a metal shovel on the hard, sandy soil surrounding the building. Finally, Sean and Tommy reached the NE corner of the building and peered around.... Sherman, armed with his M16, and militiaman Carl (scoped bolt-action hunting rifle) quietly rounded the SW corner of the building, and continued North with their sweep of the area. The tapping sound was lost for a moment, but then regained as the approached the NW corner of the building. Sherman peeked around the corner, M16 at the ready, but saw nothing. Still the sound continued. The sound was apparently coming from EAST of the sandbagged entrance to the Aid Station. With the intervening sandbag wall, it was impossible to see anything EAST of his current position. He belly-crawled along the North wall of the place, with Carl covering him from a few meters back.
Niether Sean nor Cunningham have NVG, but ranges between those involved are not very great...
S- Sherman (Carl is 2m WEST of S)
C-Cunningham (Tommy is 2m SOUTH of C)
A-a crouched figure, facing WEST, aiming a rifle
B-a crouched figure, digging near the building.
08 MAY 2003 / 2204 hours.
Upon rounding the corner, Sean observed more than he wanted to see -- two figures a few meters from him, one digging with an entrenching tool, the other providing cover. He wished he had his pistol ready, but there was little time to switch off. And when he fired at one, he'd better crank another round into the tube quick or... Aw dammit, they might have seen him!
Sean eased around the corner, aimed, and shot the person with the rifle from a range of 6 meters. His .30-06 boomed, and the man was knocked flat as the round went cleanly through his chest, and slammed into the sandbags. [GM-but not through the sandbags and into Sherman. Of course, I checked, though... ;) ]
The digging figure, 4 meters from the muzzle of Sean's rifle, was deafened by the blast. He rolled over several meters to the North, and drew his pistol...
Sean's militia teammate Tommy whipped around the corner, scanned for a target, and fired more or less blindly at the figure rolling around in the sand and gravel. A gasp was heard, followed by more shuffling around in the gravel...
Sean had a second to yell, and he screamed "SAPPERS!!!" at the top of his lungs...
Ben, I will allow you to move Sherman and Carl in the time between Sean fired, Tommy fired, and Sean yelled "SAPPERS". You may move EAST 8 meters to a point inside the sandbagged NORTH entrance to the Aid Station if you wish. This rate takes into account your utilizing cover, hopping over the sandbagged wall, and ID-ing yourselves to those people and doggies inside the Station.
Tommy is exposed. Sean has partial cover at the corner of the building, of course depending on the exact location of the guy rolling around in the gravel.
08 MAY 2003 / 2202 hours.
(formerly RB Winter State Park)
"Damn, now I wish I brought Guiness!" Sean kept looking through his sights at a chance to hit the second Sapper with out killing him. "I want this F**K alive!" he shouted hoping the others realized the potential cache of info they had before them.
Sherman heard two very loud rifle shots, on the other side of the sandbagged wall. Followed by Cunningham shouting Sappers. He looked at the militiaman Carl, "Follow me." Taking the direct approach Sherman ran forward using the cover of the sandbags. Then cried out "DON'T SHOOT. IT'S ME, SHERMAN!" To those inside the first aid post. From the cover of the entranceway Sherman peered round to see what was happening.
[GM] (hoping this isn't too confusing...) I put some green at the N of the map to denote light cover in the form of 3"-10" pine trees.
All Hell breaks loose.
The figure that was digging near the Aid Station rolled to the point labeled A. and continued firing in Sean and Tommy's general direction. Neither 3/103 man was hit. Tommy returned fire, and may have hit the person...
There is automatic fire directed at the corner of the building, from the points labelled X. Additionally, Sherman detects generalized movement in the trees at the point labelled Y. Sean has no knowledge of this movement. Finally, both Sean and Sherman detect movement at Z, which sounds as if it is going away, to the North. In no case can either of you see an actual person, just muzzle flashes, or hear some branches cracking, and some forceful talking back and forth...
Tommy was hit in leg from the initial burst of automatic fire from the treeline. He dropped right where he was hit and screamed horribly. A second burst ripped into his head, and he quit screaming. A few more bursts peppered the corner of the building near Sean, sending splinters and chunks of debris flying. Hopefully the log walls would hold.
Sherman and Carl looked on in horror as Tommy was cut down. Sean was pinned down at the corner, either that, or he'd been hit. The volume of fire against that area was pretty great. The muzzle flashes gave away positions, and Sherman remembered that would work both ways whenever he opened up. Carl could take it no longer and fired twice to the NW, (at Y). Not sure, but he thinks he hit something.
I'm leaving choice of targets for Sean and Sherman up to you since I'm giving more info than when you posted earlier.
There are so many targets, so little time...
Eric any chance of moving along of the top of the sandbagged wall and jumping on anyone below?
It might be possible in daylight, when no one was firing in the general area, but as neither is currently the case, I'll have to say no. ;)
Attached is a diagram showing the positions of Cunningham (C), Sherman (S), and the tapping/noise (X).
From your posts, do you want both exit SOUTH, then Sherman go clockwise around the building (W, then N, then E), and Cunningham to go counter-clockwise(E, then N, then W) ? This is how I read it from your posts, I just wanted to be sure this is what you intended.
08 MAY 2003 / 2206 hours.
(Formerly, RB Winter State Park)
Despite never quite getting along, seeing eye-to-eye, or being thought of as anything remotely resembling partners or a team, Sherman and Cunningham together provided the additional security to the Aid Station that Sherman or Cunningham alone could not do. Sean's ankle still throbbed from the round he had taken just days ago, and stumbling around in the dark did little to alleviate the pain. At least he had been able to curb his language instincts in front of the women. Sherman vacillated between anger and pity for the militia. While it was their job, he found it hard to blame them for not getting their act together and charging the unseen foes in the darkness. They just weren't cut out for it. Come to think of it, who among the group really was...
A few more wounded filtered into the Aid Station. This brought the casualty count up to 6 KIA and at least 12 WIA... At this rate, it would be Sherman, Cunningham, Guiness, and an old Amish lady with a broom, left defending the Camp. Sherman and Cunningham assisted as best they could inside the Aid Station, Sherman helping lift and transfer the wounded, with Cunningham keeping a watch on the doorway. After perhaps 5 or 10 minutes of this activity, a tapping or rapping is heard outside. At first, it was barely heard, with the moans and cries of the wounded, sounds of basin's clanking, clothing being cut away, etc. Sherman heard it first, and called it to Cunningham's attention. The sound is being made on the wooden building itself, at the north side, a few meters east of the breezeway.
Guiness's stub of a tail is as straight as a bayonet, and his hackles bristle like a porcupine's quills...
A few words of description: The Aid Station is located in the former dressing stockade just north of the beach area. The building itself is rectangular, and of log construction (some protection from small arms fire and fragments), and is basically in three parts, a men's section at the east, a women's section at the west, and a breezeway seperating the two. There are two doors on either side of the breezeway -- at the east, leading to men's area, and Aid Station, and at the west, leading to women's area, and Lifeguard Station.
Both halves were converted into sleeping areas. Sherman and Cunningham each have a small, yet private room in the men's (east) section. The only access to the sleeping areas (men's or women's) is through the breezeway. A 1.9m high sandbag wall protects both north and south ends of the breezeway. Actually it is two sandbag walls, the closer to the building having an opening in the middle, and then a second wall a meter or so out from the building being slightly larger than this opening. This necessitates walking around a corner to gain access, and was done to prevent bullets from going straight into the breezeway.
Just to the north of the breezeway is a stairway cut into the bank, and this is paved with large granite stones, and was further improved with sandbags. This is as good a defensive position as currently exists at Phoenix Camp. If you remember, Sean tripped around here earlier when the shots were flying.
The Aid Station (SW corner of MEN's area) was recently enlarged from the original pre WWIII 2-bed facilities to allow for 5 patients (walls were knocked out, and replaced, and some space was "stolen" from the men's sleeping area). Likewise the Lifeguard Station (SE corner of WOMEN's area) was recently enlarged (space was "stolen" from the women's sleeping area). Therefore there are patients on either side of the breezeway.
The real "treatment / triage" area is the Aid Station, and it is that door that Sean is guarding. Yates and 2 assistants work there also. The Lifeguard Station was originally an office, (desk, filing cabinets, etc), and now still serves that function plus secure storage for medical supplies, plus space for 5 more patients (total of 10, now). Hannah and 1 assistant work this area, and it is generally for those requiring less skilled care -- either light wounds, or those beyond hope... Sherman is currently guarding this area. To speak to Cunningham he must raise his voice only slightly above "normal" conversation levels. They are approx. 4-5 meters apart.
There is a militiaman guarding each end of the breezeway. The man at the north has an M1 Carbine with 15 rnd mag, and the man at the south a 30-30 lever action.
The diagram will make it all as clear as mud...
08 MAY 2003 / 2208 hours.
(formerly RB Winter State Park)
As a recap, militiaman Tommy was just cut down a meter or so in front of Sean, who is pinned down at the NORTHEAST corner of the building. He is taken fire from NORTH and NORTHWEST of his position.
Sherman and militiaman Carl have just made it to the WEST side of the sandbagged NORTH entrance of the Aid Station. Carl shot at some movement due NORTH, but is unsure if he hit anything.
Sherman reacted to Carl's firing by hopping over the sandbagged wall into the entranceway of the Aid Station. Carl likewise hopped the wall just as several bursts thudded into the building walls right where the two had been standing a few seconds earlier. The fire then switched to the sandbags, and Sherman heard Carl huddle down against the ground.
At the same time, Sherman identified himself to all inside. Be a real bummer to get taken out by friendly fire. Hannah's voice echoed up through the hallway that seperated the two sides of the building. "Clear, Sherman!" Glancing back her way, Sherman was staring at the stubby sawed-off shotgun that frail little Hannah had kept in her saddlebags during their trek from Bryn Mawr. Damn anyone who'd think of facing her down when she was armed with that...
The firing eased off abit, at least near Sherman's part of the building. Sean, on the other hand, was in a bad way. He worked the bolt on his rifle a few more times, returning fire, and cussing like his usual Irish self, but he was way, WAY outgunned at the moment. He thought his last shot might have dropped one of the @#$% eating yellow @$$ed #$%@#$ raiders, but at the same time, the shower of half-foot-long splinters of the log building produced by their fire was hard to ignore as it needled back at Sean.
A loud THUNK! slammed against the easternmost section of the NORTH wall of the Aid Station. It was followed by an explosion. Two seconds later, something carromed off of the north wall and into the entranceway, right between Carl's feet. Carl screamed "GRENADE", grabbed the bomb, and tossed it over the side of the sandbag. He did so, but was greeted with a torrent of bullets as the raiders resumed their fire. Carl was hit in the shoulder and chest, and went down. The grenade explosion happened a few seconds later, a grim punctuation to the man's serious wounding. Sherman helped the man back down to the safety of the ground, just as yet another grenade sailed in and pinballed around in the alcove of the Aid Station. Carl looked into Sherman's eyes for an interminable second...
On TV, we'd cut to a commercial about here...
The grenade banked off the sandbagged wall of the inside of the entranceway, clattered down two steps, and came to rest right on Sherman's left foot. Visions of Sherman's childhood, of his parents, of graduation from the State Police Academy, of Hannah tending to him when he was sick from the radiation, all flashed through his mind. Damn, this seemed a poor ending after all he had been through.
The impact was sudden, swift, and forceful. Sherman went down, and went down hard. Swept. Carl had scissored Sherman's legs with his own, and taken the big man down as he rolled on the grenade. A second later the blast deafened everyone in the Aid Station, and lifted Carl a full 2 meters into the air, depositing him in a jumble on the steps to the north.
He had given himself so that Sherman might live...
The first two were frags, which ripped up the north wall, but you don't really have time to check out how badly. The last one that landed on Sherman's foot was a concussion grenade, if that stirs any thoughts or reactions...
[LT1 Will “Wiz” Jackson]
Wiz was in one major-league bad-assed pissed-off mood. Things were going to shit and beyond. The bag of destructive goodies he lugged hurt his back, the big revolver in his belt dug at his balls, not to mention the presence of enemy troops inside the compound, and no MAJ, no Robbo, no Wu around to help drive off the heathens...
Aw, @#% it. Who was he kidding? The John Wayne act was gonna get him killed. Or maybe he didn't care at this point. At least he was doing something, and that was satisfying. It was kind of like at the Gap not long ago -- overwhelming forces everywhere, and no concerted defense or plan of resistance. Well, Wiz would just have to start the war from right here.
The last he had heard, Berger was doing OK. The SGT had taken out some kind of light artillery or rocket launcher over near the Rapid Run Natural Area. Wiz hadn't heard much from the Aid Station, and casualties were bound to be piling up with all the shooting and explosions happening, so checking that place out seemed a logical start. Problem was, battles, Wiz was finding, were not always very logical...
He hefted the large bag of weapons to the other shoulder. He was sure to have a large raw spot on either shoulder tomorrow, if there was a tomorrow for him. The duffle bag seemed to have given birth to a few cinder blocks -- it was getting heavier every minute. Nevermind. Keep going. Gonna put a hurtin' on someone tonight...
He neared the old concession stand, er, mess area. That term was correct. It was a smoking shambles of a mess, alright. Wiz heard more firing ahead. Automatic weapons. Some single shots. Yelling. Yeah, it is around the Aid Station. Good guess, Jackson. You're at the right place at the right time, for a change. @#$%ing duffle bag is @#$%ing heavy.
He went low, trotting forward down the last few meters of the trail toward the Aid Station. More bursts of firing, damn close now. Wiz could see them, jeez, 80 meters ahead. He dropped to the ground. Damn, out of wind. Hope they hadn't heard him. His lungs ached. If they had, he'd be taken fire. Wiz grabbed up one of the grenades, in the dark, he couldn't be sure which, and stuck it in the cargo pocket of his pants . He took the safety off his SKS, and grabbed the M1 that the CP guard had held in his hands when he had been taken out by the assassins that about killed Wiz back there. The rest of the stuff would have to wait here in the duffle bag.
Wiz moved up abit, and then froze. 60 meters. This would have to do. Much closer and he'd probably run afoul of someone or something he couldn't see. He leaned the SKS against a tree, laid the Garand in the Y of the forked tree, clicked off the safety, and lined up on one of the shadowy forms in the firing line ahead. A series of grenade explosions near the Aid Station put him into action.
He fired his first aimed shot, and missed. He then rapid fired the remaining 7 rounds into the mass of raiders who were firing on the NORTH wall of the Aid Station. The Garand recoiled stoutly. It made a lot of noise. Wiz wasn't sure if he hit anything. Not that it mattered. The @#$%@#$%s attacking the Aid Station now had to make a decision, and that bought all of the Bloody Bucket people some time.
08 MAY 2003 / 2211:40 hours
Sean -- your weapon is now empty, and you are reloading. You are still pinned down from the fire from the NORTH. You have 10 rnds .30-06 on your bandolier, and a 2 1/2 boxes (50 rnds total) in your backpack. Plus the M1911, 7rnd in it, and a spare 7rnd mag.
Sherman -- you are dusting yourself off following a concussion grenade explosion. Your ears are ringing, your throat is choked with dust, your head feels like someone brained you with a 2x4, and you are severely disoriented. It seems you didn't take much compared to the militiaman, however. He's most definitely KIA. Your M16 has a 30rnd mag in it, and you carry another 6 on your harness. Plus you have an M92 with 15 rnd mag, and 2 spare mags.
Wiz -- the Garand is empty. You have 2 additional 8 rnd clips on the sling, or you can pick up the SKS nearby (30 rnds in it, and another 26 loose in your fanny pack).
Josh, FYI, the Garand is a semi-auto, 8 rnd weapon. Has much better long range performance than the SKS. However the SKS has a 30 rnd mag, and a scope. You choose. Plus you still have the "random" grenade, your Beretta DeLuxe(15 rnd mag, plus 29 loose rnds), and the .357 Magnum (6 rnds) thrust into your belt.
And no status from the other parts of the Aid Station. At least not until you have a look.
08 MAY 2003 / 2211:40 hours
Sherman knelt down against the sandbagged wall, having absolutely no idea where he was. He rubbed his eyes, he felt sh#thouse. His head throbbed with pain and his throat was so dry he could not swallow. Looking around groggily he tried to get his bearings. Smoke and dust obscured his vision and except for the ringing in his ears everything was completely silent. The experience was very surreal for Sherman, time had seemed to slow down.
A few meters away he could make out a shape on the ground. He concentrated through the swirling wisps of smoke and the shape took the form of a body. He could make out a boot and followed along the leg to the torso, an arm and then to a head. He stared intently at the head to see the face. It was the militiaman Carl. He spoke the man’s name, but could not hear himself. He said it again, his mouth was open but he could still not hear the words come out. I'm deaf, he thought. Sherman stared at Carl’s face… he didn't even know the man’s last name. He moved towards the body, knowing full well that Carl was dead.
In the far distance he thought he could hear something. He stuck a finger in his ear and shook it about. The noises were short and sharp, weapons fire. More images flooded his thoughts, the Aid Station... enemy infiltrators. We're under attack, he remembered. Sherman began crawling up the steps, his weapon pointed towards the entranceway into the Aid station. The nearer he got to the top of the steps things started to speed up, the weapon firing became clearer and louder and he could make out dark shapes which seemed to move very quickly. His hearing come back abruptly, like having earphones ripped off and suddenly finding yourself in front of a speaker blaring heavy metal music. The problem was Sherman still felt he was in slow motion.
Sean realized by the wall of lead coming his way every time he stuck his head out that he was dangerously close to getting pinned down. Or worse yet, pegged. "Well I know I can't move forward, how about back?" He started searching behind him, looking for good cover. Maybe he could find an area that would allow him a better vantage point and still allow him to cover this entrance into the aid station. Maybe he could even pull them in and do a little sniping.
08 MAY 2003 / 2214 hours
Aid Station and surrounding area
Sherman was alive, and not spouting fountains of blood, but he felt nearly as bad as when Hannah had dragged his sorry irradiated a$$ into the Lewisburg Camp of the 3/103rd some time ago. Only this time it wasn't Thorium residuals from slagged Philly, it was probably a Close Encounter of the Concussion Grenade kind. Non-lethal weaponry, nothing! Gravel and splinters of wood in the area were no doubt kicked up from the blast of that thing, and provided some frag effect. And Sherman's ears were about as clogged as that ear infection a few years ago left him -- might as well be cottonballs in his ears. He partially regained his equilibrium, pointed his weapon up the steps, and continued crawling that way. If he was toast, and those raiders rolled over this place, he'd slow at least 2 or 3 of them down before...
Then there was yet another explosion, and still more gunfire, dead ahead to the north. Sherman steeled himself, resolved to see this one through to the bitter end. His thoughts were not of himself, just those in the Aid Station. And Hannah... Just as his thoughts turned to her, there she was, beside him, the younger college gal sarcastically giving him advice as she checked him over for unseen wounds.
"You fool, why don't you answer me? Oh, dear, you never could do anything right without me. Are you OK?”
Sherman could see that she was forcefully emoting now. Had he not heard her earlier, and she thought he wasn't answering?
08 MAY 2003 / 2216:30 hours
Groggily Sherman looked at Hannah, what was she saying? He replied but could barely hear himself. He shook his head at her and pointed at his ears "I CAN HARDLY HEAR YOU." he shouted. He stuck a finger in his ear and moved it around rapidly, then hit himself on the side of the head with the palm of his hand. It didn't help. "THEY THREW A GRENADE." He pointed over at the body of the militia man "CARL'S DEAD."
Sherman grabbed one of the sandbags and pulled himself up. He placed a hand on Hannah’s shoulder and pointed to himself and to the top of the stairs "CUNNINGHAM'S STILL OUTSIDE." He then pointed at her and back down the bunker "YOU GO BACK AND LOOK AFTER THE OTHERS."
08 MAY 2003 / 2216:45 hours
Aid Station and surrounding area
Even in the half-light it was easy to tell from her expression that she disagreed with Sherman. However, she knew what it was to argue with this stubborn ox of a man. She threw her hands up in the air in disgust, and stormed back into the Aid Station.
Moments later, a wounded civilian crawled up beside Sherman, patted him on the shoulder, and gestured to him. The man, Hackenburg, Sherman thought his name was, pointed to himself, and then to his ears, and finally, out to the woods just past the sandbagged Aid Station. He smiled broadly at Sherman, and chambered a round in his bolt action rifle.
Nodding in agreement at Hackenburg, Sherman thought good man. He'll be my ears. Though he didn't need those to see what was happening outside. The raiders were getting more persistant and it appeared had attempted to throw a phosphorous grenade at the aid station. Luckily they had fallen short. Thank god thought Sherman who shuddered with the image of the stuff on his skin, one near miss with a grenade today was enough.
Sherman turned to Hackenburg. "Ready?" Then he started moving back up the stairs.
IF any raiders are seen (probably more than we need) THEN we will start shooting back
[Sean] "Dunna get much better'n the building. Maybe I could find a spot -- a vantage point - that'd let me cover this entrance into the aid station. Or snipe someone’s arse.
Sean quite easily heard Sherman's telling Hannah of recent events at he front of the Station. Hell, everyone else within half a mile now knew that Carl was dead, they threw a grenade in on top of them, and that Sherman was, at least temporarily, deaf as a post. Sean would have to thank Sherman later for also telling everyone that Cunningham was still skulking about.
Regardless, Sean knew his present position was no place to be for long, so he went with what seemed the simplest option - cut around back south of the Aid Station, and set up at the NW corner of the building. From there, he could perhaps catch some of the raiders off guard. He got going, keeping low and slow, partially out of regard for stealth, and partially out of regard for his enflamed ankle, which made him grit his teeth, and curse nasty oaths to himself with each step. To his surprise, he met one of those SMG-armed raider blokes face to face as he rounded the SW corner of the Aid Station.
Having emptied both the Garand and his SKS at those attacking the Aid Station, Wiz peered through darkness and smoke to perhaps see his opponents. He was sure that he took down several of them, but there were still more to deal with. While searching for them, he readied the Spanish-labelled INCEND grenade he had taken off of one of the raiders back at the CP, and pulled the pin.
It was all but impossible to see anything given the conditions, except for the occasional muzzle flashes from the enemy's fire. Wiz figured they could also pinpoint him that way, so he quickly stashed both of his rifles in the duffle, and relocated, readying to toss the grenade.
Within 5 seconds of Wiz moving, 3 quick bursts tore the brush and slender trees where he had just been. Wiz was still, like a block of RB Winter Park limestone, and there were no more probes of automatic fire in his area for the moment.
The raiders were shooting the crap out of the NE corner of the building. There had been 2 or 3 grenades tossed at the front entrance of the place. Moving forward, Wiz was now close enough to hear the raider's whisper, and he even detected a hint of body odor from one. That was close enough for Wiz's purposes. Well now it would be the raider's turn.
Wiz steadied himself, then lobbed the grenade with all of the skill of the athlete who he really was. The spoon handle of the grenade sprung loose, and tumbled through the air. The munition actually pegged one of the attackers in the head, and rebounded off the leg of another. The terrified raiders hit the dirt, but in a mere 4 seconds, the grenade had detonated, scattering white phosphorus over brush, trees, and men within the area of effect. The screams that resulted would be something that Wiz would carry with him till the day he died. Wiz was just narrowly outside of this deadly circle.
Sherman and Mr. Hackenburg are at the N end of the sandbagged area near the steps. You missed the sound of Wiz capping away with his rifles, but you did take in a nice fireworks display a few seconds ago. Wiz is now on the map, roughly at the "P" in "Pavillion" that labels the diagram. The center of the WP grenade's explosion was at the 7th "trail" block east of the N entrance to the Aid Station.
Also narrowly avoiding the resultant BBQ from Wiz's otherwise perfect throw is said Aid Station. (I do mean narrowly as in, only because Wiz rolled an outstanding success!)
Sean is dancing merrily with a raider at the SE corner of the building. Sean's arms reacted before his brain even registered the threat. The big Mick brought the stock up in a fast arc hoping to catch the man under the chin.
if he goes out take his weapons, and use his (bad dude's) boot laces to tie him and just leave him, maybe useful info after this whole thing is done.
08 MAY 2003 / 2218 hours
RB Winter State Park