Scott had kept his head down for most of the barrage - experience had taught him that debris flew a long way, and the strobing blasts of explosions could mess with your eyes and senses quite exquisitely. All the same, he popped his head up more than once to take a look, and couldn't help a somewhat feral grin crossing his features beneath the face-scarf he wore. Men and materiel were being blown to bits, and that was a god-awful thing... but it still looked fucking impressive. And besides, if they didn't want it to happen, then they shouldn't have gotten themselves into trouble.
All too soon the fireworks were over, and they were on their feet and moving once more. Jan directed him to move on point, which he answered with a brisk and efficient 'sir' as confirmation, the HK MP5 up and to his shoulder, held with the sling extended to full stretch in the 'SAS style'. 
Like Jan, he moved between cover. Dust thrown up by the explosions was drifting in the air, and the smell of burning metal, fuel and masonry tinged the fresh, mountain air. Sliding to the ground alongside Jan, he too saw the checkpoint, and briefly met eyes with the Pole. 
"Right, weapons free," he confirmed again, before sliding out of cover once more to engage the hostiles. The MP5's report was a sharper, shallower rattle compared to the deep voices of Jan's 416 and the G3's and AK's of the tangoes, but its' shots were no less lethal. A man went down, caught through the chest, before Scott ducked into cover behind another tree. 
As Jan's 40mm round tore the guardpost apart, he used the moment to advance further and lob a frag grenade overarm behind a small ridge and a fallen trunk the hostiles were using for cover, scattering them further. 
"We've got them running, sir," he reported over the radio, chasing the moving hostiles with another burst from the MP5 before changing mag. "Just have to keep pressing them!"