Tank Dempsey woke up to a world of pain. His head throbbed, he tasted blood in his mouth, and blood rushing to his head… wait. Blood rushing to his head?

His eyes quickly shot open when he found out where he was; hanging ten feet in the air from his parachute.

He grumbled a few curses under his breath and wondered, "How the hell did this happen?"

*Flashback*

"What are we doing here anyway, Peter", Dempsey asked impatiently.

"That's the fifteenth time you've asked me, Dempsey", Peter replied, irritation in his voice.

"Sixteenth, not that I'm counting or anything."

Peter pinched the bridge of his nose of his nose as he explained, "The Nazis are suspected of having a station on this island so they sent us to recon the area. These orders came down from FDR himself!"

"Still", Dempsey complained, "I could be on the front lines right now, making a Nip barbeque!"

Peter just sighed. They were both flying in a recon plane, Dempsey in the back seat, and Peter as the pilot. He never understood Dempsey's hunger for battle, but he'd rather not ask questions. He turned around to tell Dempsey, "Just suck it up and quit complaining, and this will go-"

"Look out!"

Peter turned back around just in time to see what Dempsey was talking about;
a Pterodactyl flying right towards their plane.

Peter managed to swerve to the left but not without the creature slamming into the left wing and breaking off a piece. Alarms started to go off and red lights flashed.

"Mayday! Mayday, we're going down! We must eject", Peter yelled into his speaker.

Both Marines pulled levers by their seats and ejected through the roof of the plane. They started to descend down to the Earth. They both aimed themselves to fly towards the island, which was a green speck in the vast, blue ocean. In all that green foliage, Dempsey saw a large, circular building with two or three smaller square buildings. Dempsey looked over at Peter, who already pulled his parachute and made a soft descent. He himself pulled his cord but for some reason his parachute didn't deploy. He may have been kept in a rat infested bamboo cage submerged in malarial water for two weeks, but that doesn't prepare you from falling a few thousand feet to your death. After a few minutes of cursing, his parachute finally opened. He braced himself for impact as his body met sticks, leaves, and branches. His head hit a large branch and he was knocked out.

*End of Flashback*

Dempsey's train of thought was broken when he heard the cords on his parachute start to break. He fell and hit the ground with a thud. As he got up, grumbling, he though, "Where's my Tommy?"

A thud on the head with said Tommy was his answer.

While rubbing the sore spot on his head, he picked up his gun and started trekking through the jungle yelling "Peter!" Dempsey walked for about a minute until a Colt pistol fell on his already throbbing head. "Goddamnit," Dempsey yelled, "What's with shit falling on my-" He cut himself off as he looked up and saw a gruesome scene.

Something went wrong when Peter descended into the trees, the cord wrapped around his neck, he either broke his neck or choked to death but either way;

Peter hung himself. He's dead.

"Fuck", Dempsey sighed. Now he's alone. What now?

He rememberd the buildings he saw while in the air. Those where his best bet on surviving now.

Dempsey tried to think. Which way were those buildings again?

He rubbed his sore temples. "How the hell did I get into this."