The West Freaking Wing

[MASHED POTATOES. VOTE!]

1962 was a very bad year for Jefferson Dent. In June, he was forced to hand over his secret network of supporting civil rights activities in native Alabama, after several safe places were compromised. Hoping it was just a temporary downturn, he focused on starting a law career following graduating from the Law School recently. Then it got much worse, when his childhood friend, Frank Johnson, was arrested under a false suspicion of rape, which was a capital offense in South these days. Johnson would be normally consider, figuratively and literally, a toast, giving his poverty and race (yes, you guessed correctly), but at least had a friend who was not only an attorney, but also a Dent.

But Dent totally screwed this up. Instead of using family connections to quietly throw away the indictment he felt confident, as every rookie out of Yale Law School, he can handle the case in Alabama Court and went as far to challenge constitutionality of all-white juries. In result Johnson received a customary death sentence and Governor John M. Patterson declined request for clemency. Frank was electrocuted at Kilby Prison on September 18, 1962 with his attorney present.

Dent was devastated and full of hatred toward everything around him, as well as himself, for making an idiotic mistake that cost his friend his life. Looking for a way to get the hell out of country and start over, he took advantage of being a ROTC in Yale and enlisted in the U.S. Navy. Having no fondness for surface duty, he used some connections to be assigned to then still infant SEAL units and, after being commissioned as Ensign, he was sent to Malden, which seemed to be the safest place, to complete his training.

In mid-January, as the United States started to get directly, yet covertly involved in the internal fight in neighbouring Everon, Dent and his fellow SEALs-in-training were posted in Everon to complete their training there. Now, the "training" meant wandering through the vast Everon forrests, observing the Republican presence and reporting all...

[MASHED POTATOES. VOTE!]

February 10, 1963
Somewhere in Everon, at night


A young Ensign is observing a forrest glade from safe distance.
Dent: Papa Bear, this is Alpha 3. I located enemy ammo depot at EG65. Three infantrymen and one machine gun. Over.
Radio: Roger, Alpha 3, you may return to extraction point now. Papa Bear out.

[MASHED POTATOES. VOTE!]

February 11, 1963
Montignac, Everon


While away from searching the forrests, American servicemen on Everon were acting like they were on vacation. Indeed, it was hard to deny Everon is a beautiful place. Ensign Dent didn't care, though.  He was spending his off-duty time in a bar.
Dent: (half-drunk) Aaaamazing grace, how sweeeet the sound...
Bartender: I guess you had enough.
Dent: And I disagree... I once was lost but now am found... No, f**k I screwed up the lyrics.   
Bartender: You're not Frank Sinatra either.
Dent: Sadly, he's getting laid big time.
Bartender: Hehehe.
Dent: I drink to that... what's this fuss about?
Bartender: Errr... nothing.
Dent: Yeah, if this is nothing then I'm indeed Empress of Siam.
Bartender: (looking directly at his shoes) Army is bringing a few captured rebels to the main square. Really nothing interesting.
Dent: OK, I'll be back for another drink.
Bartender: Believe me, sir, you don't want to see this.
Dent: Meh.
Bartender: This is not going to be nice sight.
Dent: I'm from Alabama.
Bartender: I warned you.

The Ensign went through an entire public spectacle of garroting two peasants without a slightest grin. This was second execution he witnesses and he was surprised he felt little emotions now. It was ironic, though, that he enlisted the Navy to get the hell our from his old life, that ended with a horror at ole Kilby Prison, to start over, just to land here. Guess I'm just getting used to this...

[MASHED POTATOES. VOTE!]

The next day Dent reported to his Lieutenant Commander with a slight hangover.
Commander: At ease, Ensign. I have two pieces of news. First, you're promoted to Lieutenant, JG. Congratulations.
Dent: Really, sir?
Wow, that sounded a bit moronic.
Commander: Second, your promotion means the school's over.
Cool. I can't wait to pack up my stuff and get away from this place.
Commander: Now, you'll get your first real assignment. Look at the map.
You've got to be kidding me...
Commander: Intel reports that two rebel leaders are meeting at the abandoned farm at DC54. Waste them.
Dent: Ummm... what... sir?
Commander: Kill them.
Dent: But, sir, I don't understand. Our presence here is non-combat...
Commander: And I said: school's over. You'll drive with the infantry squad that's heading for Lamentin. You'll proceed on foot from CJ12. After carrying out your mission, the jeep will pick you up here. Dismissed.

[FEMA Camp Administrator]

Sh*t's gettin' real.

[MASHED POTATOES. VOTE!]

After the sunfall, the newly-promoted Lieutenant JG is observing an abandoned farmhouse from  safe distance.
Dent: Papa Bear, this is Alpha 3. I'm in position. Over.
Papa Bear: Roger that, Alpha 3. Let's waste them. Over.
The Lieutenant unlocked his M14 sniper rifle and took a look by it's scope, when...
Dent: Negative, Papa Bear. There are civilians on the premises, including at least one kid. Over.
Papa Bear: Negative, Alpha 3. Proceed with the original plan and leave no witnesses. Papa Bear out.
Jefferson Dent already witnessed death, but now the time come for him to inflict it on fellow human beings...

[MASHED POTATOES. VOTE!]

So, I just took a life. Actually, four lifes, including one kid, who couldn't be older than 12, I guess. Scope had a very good view. I wanted to get the hell away and start over, yet I landed in a beautiful place ran by horrible people, just like my home state. This time I'm actively working on their side against the people, who are no diffrent from my friends back in Alabama. And I can't try starting over again, being bound by my service contract. Obviously, you can't really escape. It's only making things worse.

On the other hand, that was quite exciting. Sniper warfare is incredible. They never knew what hit them. No need to old fashioned direct kill, yet you see everything close, but they can't...

So yes, I realize all that. But I can't feel a thing. Is that what starting over is about? Or something is very wrong?

With these thoughts, a newly-initiated SEAL sniper fell asleep at his quarters back in Montignac.

[MASHED POTATOES. VOTE!]

Papa Bear, this is Alpha 3. I'm in position. Over.

Roger, Alpha 3. Wait for the signal. Over.

This is Delta team. We're three minutes away from the target. Over.

Now the school was really over. No more shooting individual, isolated targets. Today, his job was to assist a platoon of the Everon Defense Forces, attacking enemy camp, he reckoned last night. More specifically, to eliminate a well-hidden machine gun nest before they engage.

There's nothing more demoralizing that sniper. You can't see him, you have no idea where he's exactly positioned but he can see you very well and if you try to something clever... BANG. Seeing your comrade's head exploding paralyzes you. So yes, just having a sniper around is a great support.

That's why everybody hates snipers and military history doesn't know a single case of sniper taken prisoner who survived to talk about this.

Papa Bear, this is Delta. We're in position. Over.

Roger that, Delta. Alpha 3, engage. Papa Bear out.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

Machine gun is history.

Delta, this is Papa Bear. Go. Alpha 3, support them as they proceed. Papa Bear, out.

Lieutenant, JG Dent was just about to take an aim, when something his the ground just few centimeters from his face. He cursed, feeling dust getting into his eyes. Some idiot, instead of keeping his head down, started shooting as crazy in direction where he thought sniper is hiding. And got very lucky.

Sharp pain at the top of the head. As it turned out later, a bullet exploded, resulting in a deep cut.

Dent: (pulling back) Motherf**ker!

[MASHED POTATOES. VOTE!]

Commander: Great work, Lieutenant. You provided a critical help to our allies during clearing this dangerous terrorist outpost. Also, your cut just gave you Purple Heart. Of course we need to process some papers, but congratulations are in order now.
Dent: Thank you, sir.
Awesome thing about pain killers, outside of eliminating the pain itself, is this great feeling after mixing it with alcohol.
Commander: And we have a little suprise for you. Captain?
Captain of the Everon Defense Forces, whom Dent, being high, was ignoring, reached out to his pocket.
Captain: On behalf of His Serene Highness, the Grand Duke, it is my pleasure to award you with the Law and Order Maintenance Medal for you assistance to our right cause. You might like the fact you're a very foreign serviceman to receive this honor.
Commander: You're free until Wednesday morning, Lieutenant. But better not get buzzed while still on medications.
Too late, asshole, hehehe.

[MASHED POTATOES. VOTE!]

After returning to his quarters, Dent took more painkillers mixed with a few shots of brandy. The feeling was awesome, so instead of falling in a drunk/narcotic dream, a new recipient of the Law and Order Maintenance Medal decided to take a night walk across Montignac. Next morning he woke up in someone's else bed with a lovely blonde and immediately started regretting not remembering a thing from what was, according to this evidence, a great night. So, they did it again and he left for barracks, not even knowing her name.

While on his way, he greeted two local residents with "long live the Republican Party!", and when they were looking around, terrified it was a provocation, Dent calmly explained he voted for Nixon and Lodge. As it turned out, they had no idea who the hell Lodge is.

After returning, he was informed that all off-duty American officers were invited to the Grand Ducal Castle for tonight's ball. Lieutenant said, he don't give a s**t about some joke court and went to bed, just to be called before Commander five minutes later. Commander wasn't amused and ordered him to be there and behave.

[MASHED POTATOES. VOTE!]

That Evening


A young lady was very pretty, but Dent stopped to be attracted to her as soon as she opened her mouth. All she seemed interested in were horses at her family's estate. The Lieutenant decided to get rid of her.
Dent: Horse meat is very good.
The lady gave him a stunned look.
Lady: That's a horrible thing to say.
Dent: On the contrary, it shows my in-depth appreciation of said species.
And she was out. Unfortunately, due to his uniform, newly won medal as well as natural charm, other young ladies seemed to be interested.
Second Lady: I see you're wearing the Law and Order Maintenance Medal, Lieutenant.
Dent: Indeed. It's for shooting my fellow Republicans. They are called Republicans, right?
Second Lady: We call them rebels. What did you mean by "my fellow...
Dent: I voted for Nixon and Lodge.
And she was out too.
Voice: Lieutenant!
Dent turned around to see a young Ensign who just arrived yesterday. Damn, he thought, at least they had great boobs.
Dent: Ensign.
Ensign: Permission to speak freely, sir?
Dent: Whatever.
Ensign: You doesn't seem to enjoy this ball, sir.
Dent: Well, a room full of a great boobs that are tragically unable to talk about other subjects than horses and uniforms.
Ensign: But we are at the castle, at the Grand Ducal ball! That's so incredible!
Dent: Meh, I was born around such an "incredible" things. So much for a change.
Ensign: You must be Lieutenant Dent. Are you related...
Dent: Whichever Dent you'll mention, the answer is yet.
Ensign: That's fascinating.
Dent: No, it sucks. You won't understand.
Ensign: I'm just a farm boy who always wanted to be in the Navy. Before enlisting, I never actually see sea.
Dent: And where are you from?
Ensign: Idaho.
Dent: I'm very sorry.
Ensign: Why? I love my state.
Dent: In the Deep South, along with an usual s**t, at least we've got a racial diversity, Ensign, whatever your name is.
Ensign: Martin, Ensign Mike Martin.
Dent: I most certainly won't remember, since I'm planning to get drunk right now... Funny, either I'm drunk already or...
Martin: Where are you going, sir?

[MASHED POTATOES. VOTE!]

June 1992


Dent: Isn't it adorable? My white aides are keeping quiet to avoid being perceived as racists, while it's my Black aide that keeps telling me a Black running-mate is such a bad idea.
Barack: I don't like anymore than you do, Governor, but facts are facts. There is no viable Black candidate for the Vice Presidency, except perhaps of the Governor of Virginia.
Dent: Who is an idiot and a flopper.
Barack: Well, that settles it.
Dent: Who's else on our list?
Buck: Tom Bradley, former Governor of Cali...
Dent: I know his resume.
Barack: Way too old.
Dent: I'm necessarily not looking for a young and chaste crown prince.
Barack: Waaaaaaaaay too old.
Dent: Excellent, he'll make me appear young and vigorous by a pure contrast.
Barack: All due respect, Governor, but John C. Stennis himself wouldn't work here.
Dent: I'm 53.
Barack: Yet, you've been around since 1968 and, to be honest, you doesn't look that great anymore.
Dent: Fair enough.
Barack: Plus, Bradley left office with rather poor approvals.
Dent: I guess we can call it "Anti-Bradley Effect"... All right, who's next?
Buck: Ron Dellums.
Dent: Well?
Barack: He's way too lefty.
Dent: And who the hell am I? A moderate?
Barack: You want another argument, sir? Very well: like all Congressmen, he doesn't have a statewide constituency.
Dent: Delaware would disagree.
Barack: Now you're just jerking my chain.
Dent: You may very well think that, I couldn't possibly comment.
Barack: Eh...
Dent: Next.
Buck: John Lewis.
Dent: No, we need him in the House. Next.
Buck: That'd be all, Governor.
Dent: Why are you so eager to keep the Black men down, Barack?

[MASHED POTATOES. VOTE!]

Buck: Bob Kerrey.
Dent: See, first you're so big on balancing the ticket, then you want to pair me with a fellow war criminal. Next?
Buck: Sam Nunn.
Dent: I don't need his "defense credentials". Also, he's a self-righteous jerk. Next?
Buck: Joe Frank Harris.
Dent: He's still alive? Oh wait, he's just invisible. Georgia is as safe as your prostate, at least until you turn 40. Next?
Buck: John Kerry.
Dent: I just made him the Majority Leader. For the same reason you can already skip little Al.
Barack: Why do you always call him "Little Al", Governor?
Dent: Because I served with his father. Next?
Buck: Ben Roberts?
Dent: No, don't get me wrong, I really like him and he'll be perfect one day. Just not now.
Buck: Joe Biden.
Dent and Barack: NO!
Buck: Harry Reid.
Barack: He's up for reelection.
Dent: This. Otherwise I'd love to pick him. Keep him on the short list just in case.
Buck: What about Lana Heskin?
Dent: Oh God...
Barack: Yes! That would make a lot of sense.
Dent: Oh God...
Barack: I mean, she has an extraordinary story.
Dent: Oh God...
Barack: Born in a middle of nowhere to a North Dakotan coal-miner father, one of the nine children. Grew up in a poverty...
Dent:
Barack: Married at early age to another coal-miner, who died in a work-related accident...
Dent: Yeees, that's sooooo sad.
Barack: She took a job as a waitress and seamstress to support her and her daughter, yet she managed to study at night...
Dent: ...aaand she worked her way to become Governor. Next?
Barack: And she's pretty young for a politician.
Dent: Can we move on?
Barack: She's perfect, and her story...
Dent: I don't care.
Barack: She's from the West, working-class background, very clean personal image and she got this small town touch.
Dent: And I'm an old, rich guy from the South, who can trace his ancestry all the way back to William the Conqueror. Also, I've been around since you two were still in short pants. Am I missing anything?
Barack: That's already very sufficient.
Dent: I can't stand her.
Barack: She's a great choice.
Dent: I can't f**king stand her. Period.
Barack: She considers you her political hero.
Dent: Which mean she's also dumb.
Barack: She also credited you with getting her interested in politics.
Dent: I can apologize for this.
Barack: You know, Governor, Eisenhower didn't like Nixon very much.
Dent: Thanks for comparing me to a lazy bald dude.
Barack: You're keeping shutting every suggestion down regarding the vice presidency. Which means that you either don't care at all, which would be very hard to believe, or you have your favorite.
Dent: Yes I have.
Buck: Who is he, Governor?
Dent: Thad.
Buck: No way!
Barack: Sir, this is the most insane idea you could possibly come up with!
Dent: How so?
Barack: First of all, you're from the same state.
Dent: He can resign his seat and took back residency in Maine.
Barack: He's just a Congressman.
Dent: With a big appeal to the libertarians and former moderate Republicans.
Barack: We already tried "libertarian" stuff in 1988. And that ended badly.
Dent: Look, there were many reasons I lost in 1988, but Scott Westman being an idiot wasn't one of them.
Barack: This is just very bad idea.
Dent: This election in not a tossup, a running-mate isn't that important, but whomever I pick, he'll be heartbet away from the button. I trust Thad more than anyone else.
Barack: If you really want to ask him, at least keep other options open if he declines. Hopefully...

[MASHED POTATOES. VOTE!]

Dent: ... ... ... ... you're kidding, right?
O'Connor: Sorry, I'm not.
Dent: Christ, Thad, I'm basically offering you the vice presidency on a silver platter. You can't just say "no"!
O'Connor: Jeff, I'm really sorry, but I can't do it.
Dent: F**k.
O'Connor: I'm not up to this.
Dent: You know what? Your low self-esteem is more and more annoying me.
O'Connor: You could die.
Dent: And that's exactly why I need you there.
O'Connor: Again, I'm sorry, pal, but I really don't want this. Look, I'm 100% for you, but don't ask me.
Dent: Man, you could been a Senator, Governor, yet each time I hear "I'm not up to this". Bulls**t! I know you better than you apparently know yourself. How many things we've been through together?
O'Connor: I really like the House.
Dent: Go die in a fire.

[MASHED POTATOES. VOTE!]

Man: (struggling) Khhhh... khhhh... khh...
Dent: Hold him, damn it!
Man: Kh... (dies)
Soldier: Wow, he went his pants!
Dent: (tossing a wire away) Somebody give me a cigarette.
First close kill. A guerrilla messenger lured into a trap by two undercover Everon Defense Forces soldiers who kept him distracted long enough to the American Lieutenant to come from behind.
Soldier: F**k, he crapped his pants too. And it was my size!

[MASHED POTATOES. VOTE!]

Barack: So, he declined?
Dent: Shut up.
Barack: I take it as a "yes".
Dent: Bring Loretta Lynn in.
Barack: Loretta who?
Buck: Loretta Lynn, you know, the "Coal Miner's Daughter". He certainly meant North Dakota Governor.

[MASHED POTATOES. VOTE!]

Governor Lana Heskin was quite a good-looking blonde, but it was her small town warm that was making the great impression. Someone you could tell all about your problems and who'd make you feel better just by giving you a smile. Someone, who'd offfer you a cookies she just made. Someone always willing to help her neighbours. And it was all natural. Dent hated it.
Barack and Buck, two damn youngsters who visibly feel for her charm, were doing the talking, while Dent and Wargrave were observing the whole process from the next room.
After getting her degree, Heskin worked in a various North Dakota government institutions under Republican and Democratic bosses alike and it wasn't until 1986 she registered as a Democrat in order to run for Lieutenant Governor in the first election not coincidenting with the presidential season. After winning a crowded primary, she won the post, riding on popular Governor George Sinner's coattails, serving until March 1989, when Sinner's plane went down over Fargo. Elected on her own right in 1990, she was popular and well-liked in a small North Dakota community.
Dent: Meh.
Wagrave: I don't like her either but she's the most promising choice.
Dent: Sadly.
Barack: If the Governor ask you to be his running-mate, would you accept?
Heskin: I'd miss my neighbours and friends, but yes.
Dent: Thad is so dead.

[MASHED POTATOES. VOTE!]

March 7, 1963
U.S. Barracks, Montignac, Everon


Rude awakening in the middle of a night. Either some idiot has decided to conduct a drill or...
Colonel: This is not a drill.
What the f...
Colonel: (visibly shaken) All right, men, at ease. About 2300 hour contact was lost with Audry region. From what we can asset now, the port is being seized by a hostile forced, origin unknown. Last reports indicated a heavy military presence... No, we don't f**king know if they are Soviets...
Officer: Sir, who else could that be? Kolgujev...
Colonel: We can't afford to jump at any conclusion just yet. We don't have enough forces to take any action. We're going to hold on here, on the South, while awaiting support from Malden. Alpha Team, chopper is waiting to take you to Le Moule, so you can conduct a recognisance. Now, no heroics. We don't know who they are but there's a hell lot of them. We need info, no full body bags. You leaving in fifteen minutes. Dismissed.
Dent: (to himself) S**t...
Colonel: What was that, Lieutenant.
Dent: We are Alpha Team.
Colonel: No s**t, Sherlock.

[MASHED POTATOES. VOTE!]

Dent woke up with his back hurting as all hell, which was as bizarre, as he did not sustain any real injury. It took him a good few minutes to remember what happened before he lost consciousness. Heavy AA fire and their chopper crashing into the forrest wasn't a pleaseant memory. Apparently, three fellow Alpha team members were less lucky. At least radio was still working...
Dent: Alpha to Papa Bear. Alpha to Papa Bear. Can you read me.
One minute... two minutes, five, ten, twenty, twenty two...
Radio: Alpha, this is Papa Bear. We're trying to contact you for two hours. What's your status?
Dent: Our chopper was shot down and I'm the only one left from my team. I'm at map reference IJ43. Awaiting instructions. Over.
Radio: Roger, Alpha. Wait for new orders. Meanwhile you have to watch your back. Papa Bear out.

[MASHED POTATOES. VOTE!]

Bush: Don't shot!
Dent: Out, asshole.
Bush: OK, OK, I'm coming...
A bush turned out to be a scared as all hell Navy Ensign, wearing in a jagged uniform.
Dent: (lowering his gun) What. The. F**k?
Ensign Martin: (relieved) Geez, Lieutenant, you scared the living s**t of me.
Dent: What the f**k are you doing here? You're a surface officer, aren't you?
Martin: Oh dear, it was horrible... we were on our way to Audry, to board our ship, when they attacked out truck. I hid here, but they all are dead... I guess. Sir, what are you doing here.
Dent: I'm dropped from the sky.
Martin: Sir?
Dent: Perfect! I'm stuck here, behind the unknown enemy lines, with a damn rookie. Could my life possibly get any s**tier?
Then it started raining.
Dent: Yes it could.


Two hours later

Dent: Alpha to Papa Bear. Alpha to Papa Bear. Come in.
Radio: This is Papa Bear. Report status, Alpha.
Dent: I'm still in position, joined by a sole survivor of the navy transport to Audry. Over.
Radio: Roger, Alpha. You will be joined by a small team of Everonian soldiers hiding in the area. They will be under your command. Keep your head down and wait for the orders. Papa Bear out.


Next hour later

So, there they were. A SEAL, the only survivor of the chopper crash, a green surface warfare officer, likewise surviving encounter with an enemy armor column, and now three Everon Defense Forces Soldiers; leftovers from a whole platoon.
Then, the orders came and nobody was able to sleep at night.

[MASHED POTATOES. VOTE!]

The next morning


Soldier: Sir, what's now?
Dent: Now we're literally f**ked in the ass... There's no way we can be evacuated from the area. Maybe I shouldn't be telling you this, but we're all what left between the enemy and our forces in the South.
All: S**t!
Dent: Well said, guys.
Soldier: So, we stuck in this damn forrest? We don't have enough ammo.
Dent: And yet we have a task to carry out. There's a small ammo depot at map reference JC23...
Soldier: I know this place! But... Soviets are probably there already.
Dent: Tell me about. Anyway, he have to reach the depot and rearm... and now the funny part. We have to check if there are any mines left...
Soldier: Holy s**t...

Indeed. Everon is divided into two by a line of forrests and hills. The only way to cross it with heavy armour is accessing two roads, cutting through the forrest.

Dent: That's right. We have to place our mines before the Soviet armoured column arrives. Beside destroying a couple of tanks, wreckages would block the road and delay their advance, giving our boys in the South some time.

[MASHED POTATOES. VOTE!]

Now what?

Taking that abandoned ammo deposit was nasty. Their number dropped from six to five, with one of the EDF soldiers getting his head blown up, but they did it. And, luckily, a couple of anti-tank mines were there.

Getting to the road was likewise difficult, with enemy patrols everywhere, so they basically had to pretend to be bushes all the time. But the final, most important task, was relatively easy by comparision. Two T-55 were destroyed and their smoking wreacks blocked the road.

So, great. But now what?

Dent: Alpha to Papa Bear. Can you read me?
Radio: Alpha, this is Papa Bear. Report status.
Dent: The tanks are destroyed. Repeat: the tanks are destroyed.
Radio: Good job, Alpha.
Dent: Can somebody pick us up? Over.
Radio: Sorry, Alpha. We can't risk a chopper. You have to make your own way home. Good luck. Papa Bear out.
Dent: F**k you, asshead.

[FEMA Camp Administrator]

Reminds me of "Command & Conquer".

[MASHED POTATOES. VOTE!]

After a supper, confiscated from some visibly unhappy peasants, and a nervous sleep in the forrest, the next morning came.
EDF Soldier: (leaning over a map) This is the quickest path to Montignac, but we'd have to double watch our back in this forrest for Soviet patrols.
Dent: So, now we are the guerrillas. How does it feel?
Radio: *click* Can anybody read me? I'm at the KH34, in need of an immediate assistance.
Dent: This is Alpha Team. Identify yourself.
Radio: *click*
Dent: Identify youself, asshole. You unit?
Radio: No, no unit, just me, needing help.
Soldier: Great, some f**king civilian radio amateur escaping South.
Dent: What's your situation?
Radio: *click* Our transport is damaged and we can't make to the safety ourselves.
Soldier: Sir, we need to proceed.
Dent: Shut up... Any enemy presence?
Radio: *click* No... I can't see anyone but... I hear explosions from the east...
Dent: All right, I'm twenty minutes away. Keep your heads down and wait for me. Alpha out.
Soldier: Lieutenant! We have orders to return to the forces. We can't waste our time.
I'm tired, Dent thought. I've been killing the people whose only fault was fighting for their rights. Now, I can simply help some poor civilians that were caught in the middle of this s**t. I can't walk away from this, can I?
Dent: All right, Corporal. You'll led the team to Montignac as planned. I'll join you later.
Martin: Sir, I'm the second most senior officer here.
Dent: And they know the terrain, Mr. Surface Warfare.

[MASHED POTATOES. VOTE!]

Dent suspected the call came from some terrified peasants, running South from the advancing enemy forces with all they could packed on their small truck. After spending almost two months on this island, doing what he was doing and trying not to care about all the s**t around, he felt (for the first time since joining the Navy) he can't walk away from this one. To his suprise, at the designated point, there were no distressed regular Joes, but a limo.
Now, he was pissed. After two days of hiding in a forrest, being shot down and embarking a dangerous mission with the enemy all around, he disobeyed orders to return to safety for... this? To help some rich Everon parasite escape from the rebels? F**k!
Chaffeur: Thank God! Our car is broke and we need someone to escort us to the South!
Dent: Who the hell are you?
Chaffeur: I'm sorry for not telling it clearly via radio, but the Soviets or the rebel scum might have listened...
Dent: Telling what?
Chaffeur: Allow me to introduce myself: Lieutenant Marco Petrov, Guard of the Rock.
Guard of the Rock: personal guard of the Grand Ducal family.
Lieutenant: We couldn't contact any of our units and we lost a car with our detail one mile away.
Dent: ...
Lieutenant: This is critical that my protectives can be escorted safely.
All right, next time I'll just ignore anonymous radio transmission.
Dent: Who exactly is in the car?
Lieutenant: (opening the car door) Your Majesty, this is... What's your name and rank, sir?
Dent: Lieutenant Jr. Grade Jefferson Dent, US Navy.
That's how he was introduced to a middle-aged, rather chubby lady and a girl that couldn't been older than 11.
Lieutenant: Her Serene Highness Princess Beatrice, daughter to the Grand Duke, accompanied by Baroness de Vere, her guardian.
Dent: Excuse me, is this a joke?
Lieutenant: Sir, don't be forgetting yourself in presence of...
Dent: This is a war zone and I'm suddenly finding a royal carriage in the middle of it?
Lieutenant: Lieutenant Dent, this is innaprop...
Baroness: Dent? Are you by any chance related to Winfield Dent?
Dent: Sadly, he was my grandfather, madame. Also a douchebag.
Lieutenant of the Guard turned red.
Baroness: I meet him at the reception at Buckingham Palace.
Oh, come on! Not here, not now...
Lieutenant: We better move.
Dent: Good idea.