1943. Germany.

You were an allied soldier, sat on the bed in your cell. A prisoner of war, or something along those lines. You were in the SAS, but David Stirling seemed to have disappeared in unfortunate circumstances and now you were left to scratch day tally on the wall in chalk.

"Bill Stirling," said an English officer, entering your cell. He sighed heavily, folding his beret under his arm. "I'm here to request your assistance in starting up my brother's mission to form a psychotic group of rogues to win the war for us--"

"Fuck off, Bill," you replied immediately, busy cleaning up your face from blood in a broken mirror; you were only captured a few hours ago.

"Paddy Mayne has agreed to join us," He said, loud and clear.