April 20th, 1941. In the peaceful rural town of Kalamata, tucked away in southern Greece, the day unfolded under a veil of cloudy skies. A British liaison stationed in Kalamata, found himself enjoying a rare day off duty. With a calm demeanor and a keen eye for detail, he strolled through the town square, observing the locals going about their daily routines.

In the distance, the rugged mountains loomed, their peaks shrouded in mist. The tranquility of the countryside contrasted sharply with the distant rumble of Anti-Aircrafts, which was going to be the problem of today; it's stuck, in a gap in the rural road, the wet dirt from the rains made this even worse for the Brits. Lt. Anderson sent some soldiers nearby of him to move the now stuck AA; it was not enough, and now, resorting to another method: local civilians, even if they wanted or not.

"‘Ey you!, yeah you, come and help with this."

He pointed at you, a local that simply carried a basket of bread, not taking much in care of the gender or even age of the Greek civilians.