04-26-2014, 06:52 PM
The political situation in Sierra Leone in recent years had been complicated. With the discover of what could prove to be some of the world's largest deposits of rhodium in the world, rivaling the rich deposits in Russia and the dwindling mines in South Africa, the situation had only grown more complicated.
Desperate to secure a fresh source of the super rare metal outside of the CCD, the United States and China had both been applying greater pressure on the Sierra Leone government, encouraging trade agreements and mining rights that would favour themselves over any other potential bidder. And to ensure it's stranglehold on the market, the CCD had begun flexing it's own influence.
With the discovery of the deposits, there had been a massive economic boom which had seen the construction of modern mines and industrial complexes in the southern portions of the country, populated mostly by the Mende peoples, who also controlled the country's government.
Wealth and jobs flowed into southern Sierra Leone, while the north remained mostly untouched by the increased wealth and opportunity. To appease foreign investors, all major infrastructure improvements had been in the regions of the mines and plants, in the south, and many in the northern half of the country, mostly of the Temne tribes, felt increasingly abandoned and ignored, left to suffer.
Increasing rumors of political corruption and bribery had led to ever-increasing tensions between the north and south halves of the country, and in light of recent elections, seeing the Mende peoples again in a strong majority rule, could prove to be the last straw in a country with a long history of military coups, assassinations, and civil war.
-----
Légion Première held a large number of contracts throughout Sierra Leone. If seeking a private security company to keep your state-of-the-art processing plant safe, you turned to the best. Twenty Legionnaires were tasked to a security contract for the sprawling industrial complex, and they had supplemented their man-power with a fifty-person team hired from the local population.
There was daily training regimes for the auxiliaries, and the platoon level of Sierra Leonean were slow to take to the difficulty and expectations of the Legionnaires.
However, it benefited both the Legion and the locals immensely. Potential recruits for the Legion, as well as a means to increase the cash value of their contract, and of course a direct link to the local community and the rumor mill, while the locals gained jobs and life skills that could lead to future employment, and a sense of involvement and trust towards the heavily armed Legionnaires that routinely escorted convoys of precious goods around their country.
The situation in Sierra Leone had been growing grim in recent weeks; reports were scarce as the Mende government strove to keep things under wraps, but it seemed increasingly evident that there was increasing violence on racial boundaries. Temne youths attacking Mende tribes people.
Lieutenant Afolayan, deployment commander of the Legion task force assigned to the American industrial facility, oversaw the marksman training of ten of the Sierra Leonean citizens that they had hired to bolster their security team.
The ten were next up on the perimeter fence shift, not yet experienced enough to be trusted to convoy escort, but their presence alone was intimidating enough to keep locals from trying to sneak into the compound and causing trouble.
"Encore."
He watched as the ten men hunkered down between the heavy metal riot shields they used for training purposes, locking their shields together awkwardly with much clatter, cursing and complaining before a high pressure hose was turned on them, hitting the shields mostly at their center-most points and walking across their line. The idea of the training was for them to learn how to control their shields and support each other against a surging crowd, to make sure their shield wall didn't buckle or flex. Any opening was a risk to the entire crew.
The ten men were tired and wet, but with only an eight hour fence patrol ahead of them, the training would not be so taxing that they could not do their jobs. Which was good, because they were going to be bloody exhausted by the time Lt Afolayan was done with them for the day.
One of the men slipped in the mud at their feet, and the hose immediately shifted aim to the man's floundering shield. He buckled and fell, pulling down the man next to him. A third turned as if to grab them, and the high pressure jet of water found his feet, knocking him down. In moments the entire line was floundering and shattered, and Lt Afolayan signaled the Legionnaire manning the hose to let up. He was about to call for them to reset when the Legion signaler came running.
Afolayan signaled for one of his Caporal Chef's to take over for him, then moved towards his next task of the day. Four empty dump trucks bound for one of the rhodium depots waited between a Panhard and a black SUV, the only vehicles the Legion had to spare. Afolayan counted his blessings to have even a single Panhard, since other detachment commanders were working with simple pickup trucks and SUVs at best.
Ten of the more experienced auxiliaries waited with five Legionnaires, undergoing their final kit inspections as the civilian truck drivers climbed into their rigs, ready to make the five hour drive to the depot.
A few quick questions to his men to make sure they knew the route to and from the depot, and their actions on should they run into trouble, and the convoy set out.
-----
Two hours into their trip, things went to hell. Local radio stations began making unconfirmed reports of fighting in the capital. An attempted coup d'etat, the president gravely wounded and moved to the main hospital in the capital, Freetown. Temne-sympathizing military units attacking the hospital, which was destroyed in the ensuing battle with the Mende-loyal Presidential Guard. Radio stations started going silent or began declaring the current government illegal and that a Temne-backed interim government would be formed under General Katlego, a well known Temne tribesman and senior member of the Sierra Leonean military.
Others encouraged sympathizers of the Mende tribe to strike back at the traitorous Temne. A few independent reporters were already delivering stories of violence by vigilante groups of either major faction attacking civilians of the other faction.
The convoy passed through a small town on it's way to the depot, and the Legionnaires within stared out the windows of their vehicles grimly. What locals that owned vehicles were loading them up with belongings, likely intent to flee to the capital. They were mostly of Mende ethnicity, and were dangerously close to the mostly Temne northern half of the country.
They continued through, although Lieutenant Afolayan was painfully aware that there were quite a few people in the village without vehicles to see them to safety. But as they reached the north side of the village, his gunner let out a sudden curse and kicked the Lt in the shoulder to draw his attention to the screen mounted on the dash of the Panhard.
Three large military trucks were barreling towards the town loaded with fighting age males in civilian clothes, rocking AK's and RPGs and machetes. Temne tribesmen and soldiers, if he didn't miss his guess.
"Turn us around, now. Center of town, space those trucks ten meters apart, drop the ramps. Get the people in them."
He slapped together a quick report and sent it straight to both the CEO and the management team in charge of the facility they were tasked to guard. He was bringing guests for an extended stay.
The vehicles turned wide, the Panhard relying on it's heavy bumper to plow through the brush that grew on the edges of the jungle road, and minutes later they were coming to an abrupt halt in the village, the auxiliaries and Legionnaires dismounting and rushing to secure the area and ready the trucks.
"You three! On me, now."
Lt Afolayan picked out three village men who were struggling to help people gather food and belongings, and the three only hesitated a moment before moving over to the Legion officer. "Women, children, water, food, onto the trucks now. We are moving you to a secure location. Temne vigilantes will be here in ten minutes, so move fast."
There was, blessedly, no argument and the three men started calling to the villagers to get things organized. "Sapper Aberash. Take the auxilaries, set up a road block then firing positions. The rest of you, over see the loading. Move now."
The sapper snapped to and grabbed hold of the Sierra Leonean auxiliaries, putting them to work moving debris onto the road to hinder the approach of the trucks.
Ten minutes wasn't enough time to get everyone loaded. When the trucks rounded the bend and came into view of the Legionnaires and the small village, Lt Afolayan was standing calmly behind the low barricade, his men still working to see the women and children, and eventually the men, loaded onto the dump trucks.
The three military trucks barreled up to the barricade but stopped short at the last minute, and the men in the back were hooting and hollering in excitement as they dismounted. They came forward as a mob, confident and ready for violence thanks to their superior numbers. Lt Afolayan stood alone against sixty armed men ready to commit terrible violence.
"Who are you? Do wish to die here soldier boy?"
A man wearing the tunic of the Sierra Leonean military, hanging open over a bright pink shirt, and a baseball cap backwards, waved a pistol towards Afolayan threateningly while walking towards the man as if expecting the Legionnaire to simply give way.
The Lieutenant frowned irritably at the man's state of dress. "You and your men will get back into your trucks, and leave the area immediately. In one hour time, the area shall be capitulated to your forces. The civilians are under the care of Légion Première."
He stared boldly at the apparent leader of the gang, entirely unperturbed by the presence of sixty armed and violent men. The crowd behind him were continuing to load onto the trucks under the firm direction of the other Legionnaires, while the auxiliaries were nervously hoisting boxes of food and jugs of water up as well.
The pistol waving man stalked closer, till one foot was planted on the edge of the barricade; a collection of firewood, garbage cans, carts and even a junked car, and leveled the pistol to Afolayan's head, where it wavered drunkenly in the man's grip. "And what are you goin' to do if I say we aren't leaving?"
The Legionnaire officer smiled, a wide white-toothed grin, "My CEO has given me two options to remedy that situation. The first, I can offer a $10,000 CCD wire-transfer to your personal account. The second, my men and I fix bayonets."
As he spoke, the three Legionnaires handed the task over to the men the Lieutenant had first chosen and moved forward, their rifles held at the low ready. Then as one they brought the weapons up and drew their bayonets from their frogs, barring eighteen inches of sharp steel which they calmly mounted to their FAMAS assault riles.
The crowd of men seemed unsettled by how bold the Legionnaire's were. They were of a tribal warfare mindset; the force with the most men won. Always. The force with the fewer men fled or surrendered. Always. When it came to actually fighting, one side usually broke after only a few casualties. Fights were rarely to the death.
The leader's weapon wavered and he glanced at the five Legionnaires and their frightfully long bayonets and bold, confident stares. His gaze moved back to the officer he was threatening, and he slowly pulled his foot off the barricade, "$10,000? CCD yeah? Yeah...yeah that'll work."
"Tell your men to lower their weapons, then give me your account information."
He pulled out his Wallet, and keyed it active, and watched the leader of the Temne tribesmen calmly.
The man watched for a moment, glancing at the armed Legionnaires then to the officer, then waved for his men to lower their weapons. The chance for money was more interesting then murder and rape, for the moment at least; they could always just kill the Legionnaires and the villagers after being paid.
The officer stuffed his pistol back in his pocket, and pulled out a Wallet of his own while his men shuffled and bunched together to whisper and plot their evil intents.
Sapper Aberash sat in the Panhard, watching from the shadowed interior, then hit the horn before pressing a button on a small wireless transmitter he held. Two claymores detonated on the front of the low barricade, a dozen meters left and right of where the officer stood, aimed towards the general area of the rebels.
Hundreds of ball bearings and a wash of explosive pressure hit the gathered crowd of fighters. Dozens were killed, and dozens more died as the fifth Legionnaire stood up in the roof hatch of the Panhard, calmly racked the action on the mounted MK19 automatic grenade launcher, and walked a burst of frag grenades through the survivors.
Aberash's boots hit the earth before the last grenade had detonated, and the three Legionnaires fired a few shots into the group as well, before calmly walking forward to start spearing the wounded with their bayonets. Lt Afolayan simply turned back to the gathered civilians and resumed barking orders; not long later they were all loaded up and rolling back to the plant.
Similar incidents happened near every Légion Première position, much to the chagrin of the companies that actually owned the expensive industrial outposts. But the Légion employed very intelligent lawyers and public relations officers, and their explanations were quite simple and well worded. Good public image meant a lot. These companies were now known for their humanitarian desire to protect non-combatants in a civil war. Sure they'd take a hit in the profit margin, but so long as it was kept short and they were back up and running before the loss of profits made them nervous.
Desperate to secure a fresh source of the super rare metal outside of the CCD, the United States and China had both been applying greater pressure on the Sierra Leone government, encouraging trade agreements and mining rights that would favour themselves over any other potential bidder. And to ensure it's stranglehold on the market, the CCD had begun flexing it's own influence.
With the discovery of the deposits, there had been a massive economic boom which had seen the construction of modern mines and industrial complexes in the southern portions of the country, populated mostly by the Mende peoples, who also controlled the country's government.
Wealth and jobs flowed into southern Sierra Leone, while the north remained mostly untouched by the increased wealth and opportunity. To appease foreign investors, all major infrastructure improvements had been in the regions of the mines and plants, in the south, and many in the northern half of the country, mostly of the Temne tribes, felt increasingly abandoned and ignored, left to suffer.
Increasing rumors of political corruption and bribery had led to ever-increasing tensions between the north and south halves of the country, and in light of recent elections, seeing the Mende peoples again in a strong majority rule, could prove to be the last straw in a country with a long history of military coups, assassinations, and civil war.
-----
Légion Première held a large number of contracts throughout Sierra Leone. If seeking a private security company to keep your state-of-the-art processing plant safe, you turned to the best. Twenty Legionnaires were tasked to a security contract for the sprawling industrial complex, and they had supplemented their man-power with a fifty-person team hired from the local population.
There was daily training regimes for the auxiliaries, and the platoon level of Sierra Leonean were slow to take to the difficulty and expectations of the Legionnaires.
However, it benefited both the Legion and the locals immensely. Potential recruits for the Legion, as well as a means to increase the cash value of their contract, and of course a direct link to the local community and the rumor mill, while the locals gained jobs and life skills that could lead to future employment, and a sense of involvement and trust towards the heavily armed Legionnaires that routinely escorted convoys of precious goods around their country.
The situation in Sierra Leone had been growing grim in recent weeks; reports were scarce as the Mende government strove to keep things under wraps, but it seemed increasingly evident that there was increasing violence on racial boundaries. Temne youths attacking Mende tribes people.
Lieutenant Afolayan, deployment commander of the Legion task force assigned to the American industrial facility, oversaw the marksman training of ten of the Sierra Leonean citizens that they had hired to bolster their security team.
The ten were next up on the perimeter fence shift, not yet experienced enough to be trusted to convoy escort, but their presence alone was intimidating enough to keep locals from trying to sneak into the compound and causing trouble.
"Encore."
He watched as the ten men hunkered down between the heavy metal riot shields they used for training purposes, locking their shields together awkwardly with much clatter, cursing and complaining before a high pressure hose was turned on them, hitting the shields mostly at their center-most points and walking across their line. The idea of the training was for them to learn how to control their shields and support each other against a surging crowd, to make sure their shield wall didn't buckle or flex. Any opening was a risk to the entire crew.
The ten men were tired and wet, but with only an eight hour fence patrol ahead of them, the training would not be so taxing that they could not do their jobs. Which was good, because they were going to be bloody exhausted by the time Lt Afolayan was done with them for the day.
One of the men slipped in the mud at their feet, and the hose immediately shifted aim to the man's floundering shield. He buckled and fell, pulling down the man next to him. A third turned as if to grab them, and the high pressure jet of water found his feet, knocking him down. In moments the entire line was floundering and shattered, and Lt Afolayan signaled the Legionnaire manning the hose to let up. He was about to call for them to reset when the Legion signaler came running.
Afolayan signaled for one of his Caporal Chef's to take over for him, then moved towards his next task of the day. Four empty dump trucks bound for one of the rhodium depots waited between a Panhard and a black SUV, the only vehicles the Legion had to spare. Afolayan counted his blessings to have even a single Panhard, since other detachment commanders were working with simple pickup trucks and SUVs at best.
Ten of the more experienced auxiliaries waited with five Legionnaires, undergoing their final kit inspections as the civilian truck drivers climbed into their rigs, ready to make the five hour drive to the depot.
A few quick questions to his men to make sure they knew the route to and from the depot, and their actions on should they run into trouble, and the convoy set out.
-----
Two hours into their trip, things went to hell. Local radio stations began making unconfirmed reports of fighting in the capital. An attempted coup d'etat, the president gravely wounded and moved to the main hospital in the capital, Freetown. Temne-sympathizing military units attacking the hospital, which was destroyed in the ensuing battle with the Mende-loyal Presidential Guard. Radio stations started going silent or began declaring the current government illegal and that a Temne-backed interim government would be formed under General Katlego, a well known Temne tribesman and senior member of the Sierra Leonean military.
Others encouraged sympathizers of the Mende tribe to strike back at the traitorous Temne. A few independent reporters were already delivering stories of violence by vigilante groups of either major faction attacking civilians of the other faction.
The convoy passed through a small town on it's way to the depot, and the Legionnaires within stared out the windows of their vehicles grimly. What locals that owned vehicles were loading them up with belongings, likely intent to flee to the capital. They were mostly of Mende ethnicity, and were dangerously close to the mostly Temne northern half of the country.
They continued through, although Lieutenant Afolayan was painfully aware that there were quite a few people in the village without vehicles to see them to safety. But as they reached the north side of the village, his gunner let out a sudden curse and kicked the Lt in the shoulder to draw his attention to the screen mounted on the dash of the Panhard.
Three large military trucks were barreling towards the town loaded with fighting age males in civilian clothes, rocking AK's and RPGs and machetes. Temne tribesmen and soldiers, if he didn't miss his guess.
"Turn us around, now. Center of town, space those trucks ten meters apart, drop the ramps. Get the people in them."
He slapped together a quick report and sent it straight to both the CEO and the management team in charge of the facility they were tasked to guard. He was bringing guests for an extended stay.
The vehicles turned wide, the Panhard relying on it's heavy bumper to plow through the brush that grew on the edges of the jungle road, and minutes later they were coming to an abrupt halt in the village, the auxiliaries and Legionnaires dismounting and rushing to secure the area and ready the trucks.
"You three! On me, now."
Lt Afolayan picked out three village men who were struggling to help people gather food and belongings, and the three only hesitated a moment before moving over to the Legion officer. "Women, children, water, food, onto the trucks now. We are moving you to a secure location. Temne vigilantes will be here in ten minutes, so move fast."
There was, blessedly, no argument and the three men started calling to the villagers to get things organized. "Sapper Aberash. Take the auxilaries, set up a road block then firing positions. The rest of you, over see the loading. Move now."
The sapper snapped to and grabbed hold of the Sierra Leonean auxiliaries, putting them to work moving debris onto the road to hinder the approach of the trucks.
Ten minutes wasn't enough time to get everyone loaded. When the trucks rounded the bend and came into view of the Legionnaires and the small village, Lt Afolayan was standing calmly behind the low barricade, his men still working to see the women and children, and eventually the men, loaded onto the dump trucks.
The three military trucks barreled up to the barricade but stopped short at the last minute, and the men in the back were hooting and hollering in excitement as they dismounted. They came forward as a mob, confident and ready for violence thanks to their superior numbers. Lt Afolayan stood alone against sixty armed men ready to commit terrible violence.
"Who are you? Do wish to die here soldier boy?"
A man wearing the tunic of the Sierra Leonean military, hanging open over a bright pink shirt, and a baseball cap backwards, waved a pistol towards Afolayan threateningly while walking towards the man as if expecting the Legionnaire to simply give way.
The Lieutenant frowned irritably at the man's state of dress. "You and your men will get back into your trucks, and leave the area immediately. In one hour time, the area shall be capitulated to your forces. The civilians are under the care of Légion Première."
He stared boldly at the apparent leader of the gang, entirely unperturbed by the presence of sixty armed and violent men. The crowd behind him were continuing to load onto the trucks under the firm direction of the other Legionnaires, while the auxiliaries were nervously hoisting boxes of food and jugs of water up as well.
The pistol waving man stalked closer, till one foot was planted on the edge of the barricade; a collection of firewood, garbage cans, carts and even a junked car, and leveled the pistol to Afolayan's head, where it wavered drunkenly in the man's grip. "And what are you goin' to do if I say we aren't leaving?"
The Legionnaire officer smiled, a wide white-toothed grin, "My CEO has given me two options to remedy that situation. The first, I can offer a $10,000 CCD wire-transfer to your personal account. The second, my men and I fix bayonets."
As he spoke, the three Legionnaires handed the task over to the men the Lieutenant had first chosen and moved forward, their rifles held at the low ready. Then as one they brought the weapons up and drew their bayonets from their frogs, barring eighteen inches of sharp steel which they calmly mounted to their FAMAS assault riles.
The crowd of men seemed unsettled by how bold the Legionnaire's were. They were of a tribal warfare mindset; the force with the most men won. Always. The force with the fewer men fled or surrendered. Always. When it came to actually fighting, one side usually broke after only a few casualties. Fights were rarely to the death.
The leader's weapon wavered and he glanced at the five Legionnaires and their frightfully long bayonets and bold, confident stares. His gaze moved back to the officer he was threatening, and he slowly pulled his foot off the barricade, "$10,000? CCD yeah? Yeah...yeah that'll work."
"Tell your men to lower their weapons, then give me your account information."
He pulled out his Wallet, and keyed it active, and watched the leader of the Temne tribesmen calmly.
The man watched for a moment, glancing at the armed Legionnaires then to the officer, then waved for his men to lower their weapons. The chance for money was more interesting then murder and rape, for the moment at least; they could always just kill the Legionnaires and the villagers after being paid.
The officer stuffed his pistol back in his pocket, and pulled out a Wallet of his own while his men shuffled and bunched together to whisper and plot their evil intents.
Sapper Aberash sat in the Panhard, watching from the shadowed interior, then hit the horn before pressing a button on a small wireless transmitter he held. Two claymores detonated on the front of the low barricade, a dozen meters left and right of where the officer stood, aimed towards the general area of the rebels.
Hundreds of ball bearings and a wash of explosive pressure hit the gathered crowd of fighters. Dozens were killed, and dozens more died as the fifth Legionnaire stood up in the roof hatch of the Panhard, calmly racked the action on the mounted MK19 automatic grenade launcher, and walked a burst of frag grenades through the survivors.
Aberash's boots hit the earth before the last grenade had detonated, and the three Legionnaires fired a few shots into the group as well, before calmly walking forward to start spearing the wounded with their bayonets. Lt Afolayan simply turned back to the gathered civilians and resumed barking orders; not long later they were all loaded up and rolling back to the plant.
Similar incidents happened near every Légion Première position, much to the chagrin of the companies that actually owned the expensive industrial outposts. But the Légion employed very intelligent lawyers and public relations officers, and their explanations were quite simple and well worded. Good public image meant a lot. These companies were now known for their humanitarian desire to protect non-combatants in a civil war. Sure they'd take a hit in the profit margin, but so long as it was kept short and they were back up and running before the loss of profits made them nervous.