Task Force Osprey - Python Squad

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Makoons

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TASK FORCE OSPREY
Python Squad over Somalia, Eastern Africa



Your squad's helicopter finally reaches its destination. The large city has been the site of some pretty nasty engagements in the past, and apparently history likes to repeat itself, as the U.S. Army and the local militia are duking it out once again. The Army didn't want to lose as badly as it had back in '93, so this time they brought in you. Task Force Osprey was made up of the best special operations soldiers from the U.S., Britain, Canada, and Australia, and you always completed missions. Not always like this, but TFO got shit done quickly, efficiently, and quietly.

This time, things were going a bit differently. Instead of being dropped off in the same area, Python's 3 fireteams would fast-rope into 3 separate locations, with the remaining solo teammates set up in a way to cover their team in another manner. It was dusk when the squad was dropped in, so the Militia wouldn't be able to get a clear shot at the Black Hawk, and so they would be left guessing where the fireteams were. It was harder work for C2 to keep track of them, but it was how TFO got most of their missions done, and the only way a single squad could cover a large amount of ground with just 9 people.

Now that the sun was rising, everything--from the air temperature to the barrels of everybody's guns--was going to heat up fast. Finding the warlord for this clan was going to become an utmost priority, and destroying the militia's weapons cache would put a nasty blow in their ability to retaliate. This mission was by no means easy; going through constant crossfires, dodging RPGs, and staying inconspicuous throughout it all was what TFO was created for.

On the one hand, the Army is available for support. On the other, a small company of PMC's seems to have other plans.


If you didn't see it, here's the signups.
 
"Spartan 0-1, to all Fire Teams, radio check, over." It was time to get to work, and work will be hard.

Jeff spoke into the microphone on his headset, wanting to make a quick headcount and check on equipment before anybody rappled down, to minimalize any accident. He looked at Ratchet next to him as Jeff looked down, the land becoming larger and larger as they raced closer to land. Jeff had a light Norwegian camouflage pattern on his uniform, wearing the Black plate carrier as he checked his radio, equipment and all
"Spartan 0-1, Check, Over." He took out the magazine, checked the rounds, and then put the magazine back, looking out into the desert as he patted the MICH Helmet, wearing the same pattern cover on the helmet as he looked down the RDS out into the land to see what they were up against.
 
Ratchet didn't say anything, instead pushing the boat to it's limits, to try and reach land before the other two teams rappelled down. The boat would be the only reliable way out of hostile territory. With a quick glance at the engine, Ratchet swore, "shit, it's not pissing anymore," As he turned off the engine.
 
"Spartan 0-1, to all Fire Teams, radio check, over."

The ambient thrumming of the blackhawk's engines and the whirling of the rotors made the radio message slightly difficult to receive. However, Viper got the meaning of the message regardless as he nodded his head towards Eban-Emael. "All green, Zero," he said resolutely. He did a final one over on all of his gear checks before sinking into the back of the canvas seat, his head dipping towards the open door to his left. Under the sand and the dust, Viper could have sworn he could make out an MSR. They must have been close to the city limits. It was that sudden realisation that sent Viper's nerves erratic. That pre-battle adrenaline, the butterflies in the stomach, the shaky hands, the sweat on the brow, all causing his heart to race as fast as the engine of the helicopter in which he flew. He grasped at his BDU trousers, crumpling the MTP camouflage in his hands. Not long now, he thought to himself, not long now.
 
Jeff looked at the Air Force Chevrons on his right shoulder, feeling it through his OD gloves as a remembrance to his Air Force days. He looked to his left shoulder and had the standard IFR Reversed American flag. The Unit patch was not shown, and as a cover patch was replaced with the 173rd Airborne Brigade. "Equipment check clear... Alright boys and girl, I will not stress the mission objectives enough, as I know we forget a million things everyday... Hopefully, your minds won't forget this, nor your taining. Primary objective is to find the Somali Warlord identified as Mohammad Askali, Somalian Warlord and principle leader of the Somali Militia. Orders are simply put capture and do not kill. Yes, that's right capture. We want to instill some sort of headless chicken kind of strategy toward the militia and let them realise that they're leaderless. Secondary objective is a weapons cache located somewhere in the city. Blow it up, and continue with mission. Rules of Engagement are as follows: Do not engage at women, children, or civilians, unless they pose a harm toward you or your men. Captured are not to be hurt or killed, and if wanted by them, will be nourished and taken care of until we reach back to base." He took a breather and continued, speaking lower as Ratchet turned off the engine. "Extra rule kids: Do not fire unless fired upon. We don't want them knowing a special operations group has dropped in to take care of their leader. Remember: A Whizz means it's far away and probably not aimed at you, a Crack means it's coming towards your ass, so fire back at 'em! There will be checkpoints along the way, keep in mind. Upon reaching the first checkpoint which is landing, your team will identify themselves, and give the word "Africa." Upon reaching your midway point, you will give out "Somalia" and identify. Upon reaching primary objective, you will give out "Freedom". Secondary objective is "Blown." I understand Charlie Team has a lone gunman covering their asses, so make use of this man with good intentions. Watch your fire with the PMCs, rules of engagement are the same for them. Good luck everyone." Spartan looked at Ratchet and made a hand signal to move forward onto the bayfront. He stood up again, putting the Field radio on his back, keeping the MREs on two MOLLE pouches and his Three WP gernades. "Six mags, one in the chamber. All teams, mission is a go."
 
"Copy all, Spartan." Kick sat at the front of the boat, ahead of Ratchet. He kept his P90 pointed ahead of them. "Perhaps if you were easier on the throttle?" He suggested. "We're not far, the speed we have will get us there." Kick did a once over of his gear. Finding that everything was satisfactory, he knocked on the side of his helmet. It was a habit he had developed.
 
Jeff looked at the other two of his Fire team, then spoke silently as the boat landed gently, coming off and pulling the boat up onto land "This is Spartan 0-1, Bravo team has reached Africa."
 
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Ratchet grabbed his gun, and slipped it onto his back. Then he pulled out his pistol. He stretched his arms and legs, then cracked his neck. "let's do this."
 
The pilots on the Black Hawk Python 4-2 began moving towards the city to Alpha's designated drop-off point, keeping a close eye on the streets and rooftops below them, watching carefully to see if anybody might decide to walk out with an RPG in hand. "See anyone?" "Negative. We're good to go." The co-pilot turned back at Alpha Team and gave them the thumbs-up as the helicopter slowed to a hover over the street. "Alpha Team, street is clear. You're good to kick ropes and head down." "Spartan 0-1, this is Python 4-2, Alpha is over the drop zone. Checkpoint Africa is a positive. We'll start circling the AO as soon as our boots are on the ground."

A crackling from Spartan's radio came through over the noise of the water around Bravo's boat. "Spartan, this is Lt. Morrison, I have word straight from command that my battalion is to send a convoy of Humvees to bring your team back to base as soon as you have Askali. Once Objective Freedom is in your custody, radio to me and we'll bring your guys back. Out."
 
Kick was the last one out of the boat. He sweeped the surrounding areas for movement. "Negative movement. We're clear." He whispered. "What's the play?"
 
The pilots on the Black Hawk Python 4-2 began moving towards the city to Alpha's designated drop-off point, keeping a close eye on the streets and rooftops below them, watching carefully to see if anybody might decide to walk out with an RPG in hand. "See anyone?" "Negative. We're good to go." The co-pilot turned back at Alpha Team and gave them the thumbs-up as the helicopter slowed to a hover over the street. "Alpha Team, street is clear. You're good to kick ropes and head down." "Spartan 0-1, this is Python 4-2, Alpha is over the drop zone. Checkpoint Africa is a positive. We'll start circling the AO as soon as our boots are on the ground."

A crackling from Spartan's radio came through over the noise of the water around Bravo's boat. "Spartan, this is Lt. Morrison, I have word straight from command that my battalion is to send a convoy of Humvees to bring your team back to base as soon as you have Askali. Once Objective Freedom is in your custody, radio to me and we'll bring your guys back. Out."

Jeff gave a smirk, speaking into the headset again "This is Spartan 0-1 to Python 4-2, message received, Alpha is at Checkpoint Africa. Bravo will make way to the city center for support, over." He looked toward the street as he looked at Kick "Get to the center for support to Bravo, find Askali and capture before using the Lieutenants Humvees to extract. Secondary objective is to blow up the weapons cache. We'll move through the alleways and use the buildings for cover."

@CoShocker

 
Jager started setting up his rifle in the mosque tower. He looked for the best vantage point. As he took the scope covers off he turned his headset on, "Spartan 0-1 this is Jager I'm in position, awaiting orders." he stated, loading his rifle. He liked to be above everyone, gave him a bit of security and with his kill record he knew he was going to make it back to base camp. Flicking the bipod down he set up on the ledge setting his pistol down beside him and he sat watching, waiting.
 
Bowyer sat within a small vacant building across the street from the PMC HQ, watching the events of the day unfold. He had his empty MRE bag on the windowsill and his weapon propped barrel up against the wall beside it. He lounged on the same chair he'd had his ass on for the better part of the morning since zipping in on a motorbike ahead of the teams like that sniper fellow. He'd scoped out the scene and the most action he'd seen were a bunch of militiamen come rolling down the street in a technical looking mean until their gunner took a round to the head from nowhere. They were out pretty fast after that.

Bowyer flinched slightly as his headset came to life with the briefing and orders of the day. He had to admit, being alone in a city full of people whose greatest achievement was taking down a blackhawk and killing Americans just like him was enough to spook even the Green Beret who'd done time in Afghanistan. Something about being hacked to death with a dull machete while gaunt-faced children watched with vacant eyes wasn't too appealing. When it came time for him to speak up, he did.

"Bowyer to Spartan 0-1, solid copy on all. Currently awaiting Charlie to kick this off with me. Slow day at the office, nothing of note to report."
 
Jeff gently moved to the side of a road as he spoke softly "Spartan 0-1 to Jager, provide overwatch from the top of the mosque and provide sniper cover to any forces, over."
 
"You got it Spartan 1-0, I will keep radio silence while providing overwatch. Tell me where the support is needed most so I can conserve ammo. Jager out." Sitting in his position he found the fire teams.
 
Ratchet quickly threw a tarp over the boat, disguising it. "Boat's covered, Keys in. If all goes hell, We might all be able to get out. a little uncomfortable, but alive." Ratchet then stepped away, and looked up towards the town. Sighing, he moved in behind Spartan 1-0. "Ratchet to Fire Teams. Check and Double-check all electronics, if any. Info is Impo (Information is Important). We want to know if these guys are planning anything."
 
Jeff crouched, then began a gentle walk as he kept the HK at eye level, moving through a back alley that gave the same correspondence to the main street "Maintaining radio silence. Python 4-2, provide overhead cover to Alpha Team as they move to Objective Freedom. Jager, provide support over my team, and Bowyer to cover Charlie, over." He spoke gently and screwed in the silencer.
 
Kick fell in behind Ratchet and Spartan. He kept his P90 raised, scanning the overhead and watching their 6' oclock. He adjusted the fire setting on his P90 to automatic as they walked through the close quarters alley. He took note of how run down the buildings were. It reminded him of Afghanistan, but less sand.
 
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"Rodger that Spartan 1-0. Jager out." Adjusting his scope and setting his sights around Spartan 1-0 and the rest of Bravo Team, keeping watch on the rooftops. It was quiet, to quiet. Last time it was this quiet the hajis pinned down his squad in a Kuwait market place, a bloody mess, but that was years ago. Now its the Somalians, and they don't play this game nicely.
 
Jeff halted his fire team as they roubded a corner, stopping them from continuing through the alleyway as he looked at Kick and Ratchet, whispering very gently "Stick to the side of the road, we'll have to make our way upwards till we can find another alleyway. Use the buildings for cover. If you see a target coming at us, notify and move into one of the buildings." He continued his crawl toward Bravo's landing site, looking forward and ontop of the buildings in case of a Somali ambush. They were sleeping, but they needed to remain quiet nonetheless.
 
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