Somewhere in North Ratomkira
Dark was not an accurate word for the remote areas of Ratomkira. Black was more accurate. As the Marquen commandos filed out of the Ratomkiran military helicopters, most of them did not notice how dark the jungle made it. The men scampered off the helicopters and headed towards the treeline.
Colonel Mathieu was a veteran of clandestine missions all over the world, but no place was dark as this. It was as if he were locked in a closet, 20 stories underground covered in cement. He should the thought from his mind to ensure that everyone was accounted for: 6 officers (Not including himself), 1 warrant officer, 12 Sergeants, 6 medics and 60 corporals and privates. The unit would be entirely self sufficient for the next few days until the next scheduled drop would occur. The men had all been briefed. Silently they moved into the Ratomkiran jungle which blotted out even the stars from their gaze. The men heard the helicopters take off and fly overhead.
The mission was not really specific of course, harass and contain the enemy. Each of the 85 men had a specific role. Some were mortar specialists, 3 were language specialists, some were demolitions experts. All were more or less infantry warfare experts. IT was clear that the A-team truly had nothing on these gentlemen.
After a three mile hike in almost pure darkness, and thanks to GPS, the men arrived at their destination. Pang Phet was a small village. Perhaps its only significance was that a paved road actually ran buy. The village of around 20 buildings was silent. The paved road was marked with potholes and stretched only for about 15 miles to a regional hub, but Pang Phet was important for another reason- 150 communist militia were stationed in the old Marquen provincial police barracks. The village had basically become a base camp rather than a place for the people to live. The entire village could fit on the ground level of a footy stadium and was surrounded by waist-high sheets of corrugated steel with a ring of barbed wire flimsily mounted on top. The Colonel checked his watch. He wanted to strike at 4:15am, before early risers were even awake. His arm shot up, silently directing his men to take positions.
Dark was not an accurate word for the remote areas of Ratomkira. Black was more accurate. As the Marquen commandos filed out of the Ratomkiran military helicopters, most of them did not notice how dark the jungle made it. The men scampered off the helicopters and headed towards the treeline.
Colonel Mathieu was a veteran of clandestine missions all over the world, but no place was dark as this. It was as if he were locked in a closet, 20 stories underground covered in cement. He should the thought from his mind to ensure that everyone was accounted for: 6 officers (Not including himself), 1 warrant officer, 12 Sergeants, 6 medics and 60 corporals and privates. The unit would be entirely self sufficient for the next few days until the next scheduled drop would occur. The men had all been briefed. Silently they moved into the Ratomkiran jungle which blotted out even the stars from their gaze. The men heard the helicopters take off and fly overhead.
The mission was not really specific of course, harass and contain the enemy. Each of the 85 men had a specific role. Some were mortar specialists, 3 were language specialists, some were demolitions experts. All were more or less infantry warfare experts. IT was clear that the A-team truly had nothing on these gentlemen.
After a three mile hike in almost pure darkness, and thanks to GPS, the men arrived at their destination. Pang Phet was a small village. Perhaps its only significance was that a paved road actually ran buy. The village of around 20 buildings was silent. The paved road was marked with potholes and stretched only for about 15 miles to a regional hub, but Pang Phet was important for another reason- 150 communist militia were stationed in the old Marquen provincial police barracks. The village had basically become a base camp rather than a place for the people to live. The entire village could fit on the ground level of a footy stadium and was surrounded by waist-high sheets of corrugated steel with a ring of barbed wire flimsily mounted on top. The Colonel checked his watch. He wanted to strike at 4:15am, before early risers were even awake. His arm shot up, silently directing his men to take positions.