As you step down the creaking stairs into the Desert Outpost, you notice Rosie hunched over a desk, intently leaning towards a giant radio. Her keen yellow eyes glare at you as she waves her hand angrily, signaling for silence. Shut it! Shut it! The Prime Minister is speaking! With a flick of her wrist, she increases the volume. The air fills with Winston Churchill's voice, distorted by static interference. The hospital ships disothokjiret many thousands of British inhjthrugfundet