company of heroes 2 british mortar tunginng

His fingers reach for a handle, as he slides open a drawer with a groan and squeak, that cuts through the air. The Major slams the report on his desk, calling the room to silence. He is too preoccupied with a manila folder, a 'Top Secret' label taped stuck across it, in the same crimson as this mans beret. 'Colonel, it is an honour, we have been eagerly anticipating your transfer.' A Major sporting a sprightly mustache in the middle of the group briskly says, failing to make eye contact. Radios, maps and charts hastily strewn about, signal its significance as a converted command post. Through the cacophony, an assembly of officers is situated in a drawing room, with cobwebs and dust dancing in the vaulted ceilings. Inside, a blinding swarm of personnel is bustling every which way, accompanied with the clatter of field boots and radio chatter which fills the air. It creaks open as a lieutenant, preoccupied with a dossier in his hand, scurries past, only managing a quick salute. 'REGIMENTAL HEADQUARTERS' is hastily scrawled on a plank across the white door. The sun glints off the windows of a majestic manor house before dulling on the ivy growing on the walls. The roar of engines drown out the echo of thoughts during a warm day in Holland.

Company of heroes 2 british mortar tunginng