The lead plane waggled its wings as it passed over the marker. The team collecting the canvas up waved back.
There were four crates, two of weapons and ammunition, two of food and supplies. The crates were wooden, to be burnt later. Everything went into the canvas bags and was carried to the cave that had been their home for the last two nights.
Squad chief Lensman was viewing the wreckage down the valley through field glasses. “That was too large for a patrol. They were garrisonning something.” He handed the glasses to Rey, his sub.
“Let’s head there. It’s on the way.”
There were complaints at the increased loads after the light mountain kit they had carried on the way over. “We should of brought mules.”
“You are half mule Mov.” He was also the most experienced mountaineer of a group made up almost entirely of mountaineers. As such, he was First Scout and blessed with a lighter load. Lensman pointed to the head of the valley. “We shall go and see where they were heading, eh? Pick a trail with good vantage and cover.”
“Aye. Right y’are.” Mov tightened the straps on his pack and picked a new half digit auto rifle from the pile. He headed down to the tree line, grabbing a shoulder bag of magazines that was tossed to him.
Young Kess, meanwhile, had fallen in love. At ten spans, the one digit long rifle was nearly as tall as its new owner. Lensman watched the squad’s youngest member assemble the monster sniper rifle. The blue banded bullets were anti personnel, capable of one shot kills at extreme ranges, red bands were armour piercing sabots. “How are you with that gun, Kess?”
“I put three hundred rounds through one in training sir. Best in my class.” They were all best in their class. They needed to be. The twenty man squad (all men, the air army’s equality hadn’t yet extended to the infantry) had to appear an army.
The packs were filled. Mov was up ahead on a vantage point, awaiting the squad. Lensman took the lead.