06-10-2015, 07:08 PM
Approx. 25Kms East of Freetown
Major Jengo Abrams stood in the commander's hatch of his command-variant Patria AMV, one of the few in the hands of the Temne forces after the debacle at the airport in the opening day of the uprising. The vehicle sacrificed passenger space for a command-and-control suite; improved radios, computer systems, display screens.
From the hatch, he was able to oversee the deployment of the seven M777s, 155mm Howitzer field guns. Each gun had a five man crew, and the position was surrounded by a hundred armed fighters, mostly Temne supporters under the tutelage of a few dozen soldiers. The rest of the troops that had sided with the Temne uprising were kept busy dissuading the Guinean warlords from advancing further towards the north-eastern regions of Sierra Leone, where the Temne faction was based, or advancing on and securing regions that hadn't sided either way yet, which including some of the impromptu refugee camps the Legion had established.
the general was relying on the terror of the shelling to be enough to bring the government forces to their knees and capitulate, without the need of a more substantial combat presence.
Each of the heavy field artillery pieces had been towed into place by large trucks, each of which were themselves loaded down to the breaking point with ammo for the howitzers. Most were old training rounds; nothing more then concrete slugs without any explosive charges. Cheap and abundant, used mostly to train gunnery crews in their skills and drills, but against a built up city? General Katlego was not a monster, and a city shelled to dust was of no use to anyone. Of course, there were live high-explosive shells, which would be thrown into Freetown occasionally, to assure the people were properly motivated to surrender.
The idea of shelling the capital was not entirely appealing to the Major, but it was a necessary evil. The country was beset on all sides by scavengers, and only a unified government would be able to send them scurrying back into the shadows. And that unity would only be found once the Mende were put in their place, once and for all. They had sold the country piecemeal to foreign powers, and were the reason that Sierra Leone was so weak to begin with.
-----
The Legion convoy had weathered the storm that Guinea had thrown at them. Losses had been blissfully light; they had been forced to abandon two of the transport trucks, although most of their cargo had been redistributed before the vehicles had been blown-in-place (BIP'd) by some of the attached sappers.
Provost Boipello still rode with Sergant Jackson near the front of the convoy, and neither were exactly releived to see the sign that marked the border between the failed-state of Guinea and Sierra Leone. The border guard check point was destroyed, the concrete bunkers charred black and riddled with bullet holes. The signs were equally potmarked, and rotting bodies of two men who may once have been guards were lashed to the sign with rope.
Abandoned vehicles, some decades old, crowded the fields to either side of the road on the Guinean side; the last remnants of refugees fleeing the horrors that had engulfed Guinea in the years after the fallout of the Ebola outbreak.
The village that had cropped up from a 'temporary' refugee camp on the Sierra Leonean side was in ruins; the population had been mostly Guinean of origin, and they had not fared well when the warlords were able to move unopposed into Sierra Leone.
"We'll reach the city of Kambia by nightfall, assuming the bridge is still trafficable."
Sergeant Jackson indicated on the nav display mounted into the Panhard's interior. Their primary route was marked by a blue line, with secondary routes a dull grey. The route they had traveled was far from straight; long stretches of the old highways through Guinea were reclaimed by nature or purposefully destroyed by mortal hands, to prevent enemy warlords from being able to easily raid their neighbours. The road into Sierra Leone would likely prove much the same.
Provost Boipello nodded, studying the two bodies as they rumbled through the ruined checkpoint. On the Sierra Leonean side, the abandoned vehicles were only days old, and many had been wrecked by small arms fire. Likely people in Kambia trying to flee whichever warlord had moved into the region, only to find that the man hadn't left the border crossing unguarded. Bodies, some blackened and charred from the fires that had swept over many of the vehicles, were still evident in their cars and trucks. Others, women especially, were sprawled in the dirt where the monsters had set upon those foolish enough to try surrendering.
Major Jengo Abrams stood in the commander's hatch of his command-variant Patria AMV, one of the few in the hands of the Temne forces after the debacle at the airport in the opening day of the uprising. The vehicle sacrificed passenger space for a command-and-control suite; improved radios, computer systems, display screens.
From the hatch, he was able to oversee the deployment of the seven M777s, 155mm Howitzer field guns. Each gun had a five man crew, and the position was surrounded by a hundred armed fighters, mostly Temne supporters under the tutelage of a few dozen soldiers. The rest of the troops that had sided with the Temne uprising were kept busy dissuading the Guinean warlords from advancing further towards the north-eastern regions of Sierra Leone, where the Temne faction was based, or advancing on and securing regions that hadn't sided either way yet, which including some of the impromptu refugee camps the Legion had established.
the general was relying on the terror of the shelling to be enough to bring the government forces to their knees and capitulate, without the need of a more substantial combat presence.
Each of the heavy field artillery pieces had been towed into place by large trucks, each of which were themselves loaded down to the breaking point with ammo for the howitzers. Most were old training rounds; nothing more then concrete slugs without any explosive charges. Cheap and abundant, used mostly to train gunnery crews in their skills and drills, but against a built up city? General Katlego was not a monster, and a city shelled to dust was of no use to anyone. Of course, there were live high-explosive shells, which would be thrown into Freetown occasionally, to assure the people were properly motivated to surrender.
The idea of shelling the capital was not entirely appealing to the Major, but it was a necessary evil. The country was beset on all sides by scavengers, and only a unified government would be able to send them scurrying back into the shadows. And that unity would only be found once the Mende were put in their place, once and for all. They had sold the country piecemeal to foreign powers, and were the reason that Sierra Leone was so weak to begin with.
-----
The Legion convoy had weathered the storm that Guinea had thrown at them. Losses had been blissfully light; they had been forced to abandon two of the transport trucks, although most of their cargo had been redistributed before the vehicles had been blown-in-place (BIP'd) by some of the attached sappers.
Provost Boipello still rode with Sergant Jackson near the front of the convoy, and neither were exactly releived to see the sign that marked the border between the failed-state of Guinea and Sierra Leone. The border guard check point was destroyed, the concrete bunkers charred black and riddled with bullet holes. The signs were equally potmarked, and rotting bodies of two men who may once have been guards were lashed to the sign with rope.
Abandoned vehicles, some decades old, crowded the fields to either side of the road on the Guinean side; the last remnants of refugees fleeing the horrors that had engulfed Guinea in the years after the fallout of the Ebola outbreak.
The village that had cropped up from a 'temporary' refugee camp on the Sierra Leonean side was in ruins; the population had been mostly Guinean of origin, and they had not fared well when the warlords were able to move unopposed into Sierra Leone.
"We'll reach the city of Kambia by nightfall, assuming the bridge is still trafficable."
Sergeant Jackson indicated on the nav display mounted into the Panhard's interior. Their primary route was marked by a blue line, with secondary routes a dull grey. The route they had traveled was far from straight; long stretches of the old highways through Guinea were reclaimed by nature or purposefully destroyed by mortal hands, to prevent enemy warlords from being able to easily raid their neighbours. The road into Sierra Leone would likely prove much the same.
Provost Boipello nodded, studying the two bodies as they rumbled through the ruined checkpoint. On the Sierra Leonean side, the abandoned vehicles were only days old, and many had been wrecked by small arms fire. Likely people in Kambia trying to flee whichever warlord had moved into the region, only to find that the man hadn't left the border crossing unguarded. Bodies, some blackened and charred from the fires that had swept over many of the vehicles, were still evident in their cars and trucks. Others, women especially, were sprawled in the dirt where the monsters had set upon those foolish enough to try surrendering.