05-17-2016, 09:42 PM
The road to Lungi Airport, west of Port Loko, Sierra Leone. 1540Hrs GMT.
Lieutenant Baisieli sat shotgun in the lead Panhard escorting the Legion supply trucks and support vehicles. The young man sat stiffly in the seat, held in place by the rarely worn safety harness, a system he had never really appreciated until he'd broken both his legs when his vehicle rolled over while still rolling through the failed-state of Guinea.
Injured as he was, he had been given the command of the skeleton escort for the supply convoy. So close to Lungi Airport, they were out of reach of General Katlego or Wallace-Johnson's forces, and with both the danger and tactical value of the M777s located so far ahead of Katlego's ability to properly defend, the opportunity to capture the guns had been deemed well worth the risk of stripping the convoy of its protection. They were confident there was nothing in the region that would actually threaten the kilometer long line of vehicles.
“Lieutenant? I have a thermal reading in the jungle to our north...looks like a few trucks.” An equally wounded Legionnaire sat at the controls of the Panhard's RWS, which mounted only a single .50 machine gun, its sister having been pulled to be mounted onto one of the second-hand APCs purchased from the Moroccan military, which had departed with the strike force.
Baisieli swiped the screen on his dash-mounted monitor, dismissing the map with a view of the RWS's monitor. Indeed, barely seen through the thick foliage of the jungle on the north side of the highway, there were the heat signatures of what were likely two or three civilian-pattern trucks. “Probably locals, trying to hide from the fighting.”
Baisieli had made an educated decision; there only expected threats so close to Freetown, and the military garrison at the Lungi International airport, where military in nature. Most likely, Wallace-Johnson's troops, as General Katlego's forces were mostly focused in the country's eastern provinces, minus the force which had approached the capital with the artillery, of course.
With the information at his disposal, he had no way of knowing to whom those trucks and their passengers belonged.
ShakeSpear was a guerrilla fighter by trade. His years of rule in his little kingdom of the failed-state of Guinea's southern region had taught him to avoid head on fights. Ambush and surprise were the way he waged war. So when his scouts, driving a stolen civilian car with Sierra Leonean plates had spotted the thinly protected convoy of trucks headed west on the highway, he had responded quickly.
His force was laying in wait in the jungle on either side of the highway; at his signal they struck, RPG teams emerging with the first sounds of weapons fire. Six rockets were fired at Baisieli's Panhard. Only two struck; one, fired from far too close, hadn't even managed to arm itself before striking the hardened armour of the Legion vehicle. One RPG detonated the moment it was launched; a common result of inexperienced operators trying to disarm the projectile's self-destruct mechanism. A standard feature in such rounds, they automatically detonated after 900 meters of flight.
The second RPG which hit Baisieli's Panhard functioned perfectly. Striking the vehicles passenger side front tire. The shaped charge punched through the thick rubber tire and struck into the armoured wall protecting the engine block.
“Contact right!” Baisieli's voice was wracked with pain as the Panhard was rocked both by the explosion and as it nosed heavily into the asphalt of the highway. The declaration was useless; the vehicle's radios died with the RPG strike.
With the engine hit, the vehicle lost all power, rendering the RWS useless. The crew responded quickly, throwing open the roof hatch and disengaging the gyros that operated the RWS, switching it to manual control. One Legionnaire stood out of the protective hull of the vehicle, grabbing the handles of the .50 machine gun and swinging the RWS to face to the north and the offending Guinean rebels. The bark of the .50 was a a mere growl compared to the fire being returned by Shakespear's fighters.
Panicked by the attack, the supply truck behind Baisieli's Panhard, driven by a very well payed civilian contractor, put petal to metal and rammed the Panhard, which sat disabled across the highway, blocking the way to the believed safety of the distant airport. Even with it's hastily added armour plates, the civilian truck's engine was crushed by the impact with the comparatively smaller, but heavy Panhard.
Other vehicles along the line suffered similar fates; tires or engines disabled by weapons fire, drivers killed as rounds punched through the already battle-worn armor plates protecting the cabs. Others simply slammed on the brakes and tried leaping out to the south, fleeing into the jungle on that side of the highway.
Freetown, Sierra Leone, 1550Hrs GMT.
The last of the Legionnaires tasked to Operation Gauntlet arrived at the northern ferry crossing and the waiting coastguard patrol boats. Section members said their farewells, as tasked members mounted the waiting deep-water boats, and their teams returned to tasks around the city.
For the moment, at least, the shelling seemed to have stopped; Katlego and Wallace-Johnson were in open discussions over the recent turn of events, the two men threatening each other like two school-yard bullies. Neither seemed to care about the repercussions of their actions, only of how their reputation may have been damaged if either were to back down.
Word had already spread along the Legionnaires that Jacques Danjou was out of contact, last known to having walked into Wallace-Johnson's command center, alone. Of course, with his apparent 'surrender' to the Interim-President, Wallace-Johnson's soldiers throughout the city had lowered their guard, allowing Operation Rien N'Empeche to go off without a hitch.
20 Legionnaires made up the task force for Operation Gauntlet; Americans, Chinese, CCD, Australians. All former military of those nations, all with at least passing experience with military grade powered suits. The F3LIN system would be outdated from what ever hardware they had trained with, but they were some of the most advanced such tech to be found in Africa.
As the last of the Legionnaires boarded the coastguard vessels, the ships were heaved-too and pulled away from port, heading for the ocean and the waiting Baadi Qasriga.
Lieutenant Baisieli sat shotgun in the lead Panhard escorting the Legion supply trucks and support vehicles. The young man sat stiffly in the seat, held in place by the rarely worn safety harness, a system he had never really appreciated until he'd broken both his legs when his vehicle rolled over while still rolling through the failed-state of Guinea.
Injured as he was, he had been given the command of the skeleton escort for the supply convoy. So close to Lungi Airport, they were out of reach of General Katlego or Wallace-Johnson's forces, and with both the danger and tactical value of the M777s located so far ahead of Katlego's ability to properly defend, the opportunity to capture the guns had been deemed well worth the risk of stripping the convoy of its protection. They were confident there was nothing in the region that would actually threaten the kilometer long line of vehicles.
“Lieutenant? I have a thermal reading in the jungle to our north...looks like a few trucks.” An equally wounded Legionnaire sat at the controls of the Panhard's RWS, which mounted only a single .50 machine gun, its sister having been pulled to be mounted onto one of the second-hand APCs purchased from the Moroccan military, which had departed with the strike force.
Baisieli swiped the screen on his dash-mounted monitor, dismissing the map with a view of the RWS's monitor. Indeed, barely seen through the thick foliage of the jungle on the north side of the highway, there were the heat signatures of what were likely two or three civilian-pattern trucks. “Probably locals, trying to hide from the fighting.”
Baisieli had made an educated decision; there only expected threats so close to Freetown, and the military garrison at the Lungi International airport, where military in nature. Most likely, Wallace-Johnson's troops, as General Katlego's forces were mostly focused in the country's eastern provinces, minus the force which had approached the capital with the artillery, of course.
With the information at his disposal, he had no way of knowing to whom those trucks and their passengers belonged.
ShakeSpear was a guerrilla fighter by trade. His years of rule in his little kingdom of the failed-state of Guinea's southern region had taught him to avoid head on fights. Ambush and surprise were the way he waged war. So when his scouts, driving a stolen civilian car with Sierra Leonean plates had spotted the thinly protected convoy of trucks headed west on the highway, he had responded quickly.
His force was laying in wait in the jungle on either side of the highway; at his signal they struck, RPG teams emerging with the first sounds of weapons fire. Six rockets were fired at Baisieli's Panhard. Only two struck; one, fired from far too close, hadn't even managed to arm itself before striking the hardened armour of the Legion vehicle. One RPG detonated the moment it was launched; a common result of inexperienced operators trying to disarm the projectile's self-destruct mechanism. A standard feature in such rounds, they automatically detonated after 900 meters of flight.
The second RPG which hit Baisieli's Panhard functioned perfectly. Striking the vehicles passenger side front tire. The shaped charge punched through the thick rubber tire and struck into the armoured wall protecting the engine block.
“Contact right!” Baisieli's voice was wracked with pain as the Panhard was rocked both by the explosion and as it nosed heavily into the asphalt of the highway. The declaration was useless; the vehicle's radios died with the RPG strike.
With the engine hit, the vehicle lost all power, rendering the RWS useless. The crew responded quickly, throwing open the roof hatch and disengaging the gyros that operated the RWS, switching it to manual control. One Legionnaire stood out of the protective hull of the vehicle, grabbing the handles of the .50 machine gun and swinging the RWS to face to the north and the offending Guinean rebels. The bark of the .50 was a a mere growl compared to the fire being returned by Shakespear's fighters.
Panicked by the attack, the supply truck behind Baisieli's Panhard, driven by a very well payed civilian contractor, put petal to metal and rammed the Panhard, which sat disabled across the highway, blocking the way to the believed safety of the distant airport. Even with it's hastily added armour plates, the civilian truck's engine was crushed by the impact with the comparatively smaller, but heavy Panhard.
Other vehicles along the line suffered similar fates; tires or engines disabled by weapons fire, drivers killed as rounds punched through the already battle-worn armor plates protecting the cabs. Others simply slammed on the brakes and tried leaping out to the south, fleeing into the jungle on that side of the highway.
Freetown, Sierra Leone, 1550Hrs GMT.
The last of the Legionnaires tasked to Operation Gauntlet arrived at the northern ferry crossing and the waiting coastguard patrol boats. Section members said their farewells, as tasked members mounted the waiting deep-water boats, and their teams returned to tasks around the city.
For the moment, at least, the shelling seemed to have stopped; Katlego and Wallace-Johnson were in open discussions over the recent turn of events, the two men threatening each other like two school-yard bullies. Neither seemed to care about the repercussions of their actions, only of how their reputation may have been damaged if either were to back down.
Word had already spread along the Legionnaires that Jacques Danjou was out of contact, last known to having walked into Wallace-Johnson's command center, alone. Of course, with his apparent 'surrender' to the Interim-President, Wallace-Johnson's soldiers throughout the city had lowered their guard, allowing Operation Rien N'Empeche to go off without a hitch.
20 Legionnaires made up the task force for Operation Gauntlet; Americans, Chinese, CCD, Australians. All former military of those nations, all with at least passing experience with military grade powered suits. The F3LIN system would be outdated from what ever hardware they had trained with, but they were some of the most advanced such tech to be found in Africa.
As the last of the Legionnaires boarded the coastguard vessels, the ships were heaved-too and pulled away from port, heading for the ocean and the waiting Baadi Qasriga.