09-25-2014, 08:55 PM
Only a few days after the Temne attack on the capital, and things there had grown deceptively quiet. Sierra Leone had never had a large military; a few thousand troops, mostly tasked to border security along their border with the failed state of Guinea. Nearly a third of that military had taken up residence in the capital, bolstered by local militias and Mende volunteers. General Wallace-Johnson had been known for his 'charismatic' impact on his troops even before the failed coup, although to most it was better seen as fear. But fear, as it turned out, was an effective motivator at times.
The situation in the city were quiet. Almost peaceful, if one could ignore the still fresh damage that had been caused by the fighting. The fires were extinguished, but the gutted ruins of apartments and businesses remained. The ruined hospitals and schools, government buildings. Military vehicles patrolling the streets, and curfews in place. It was not a peaceful quiet.
There was a steady flow of refugees into the city, but not nearly as overwhelming as may have been expected. Jacques' suspicions, and the reports of some of his men manning a make-shift refugee camp near the city, were quickly confirmed as a five vehicle convoy departed the Legion's headquarters in the now mostly empty embassy district.
Unusually, Jacques rode in the lead vehicle, leaving Natalie and Legionnaire Carpenter in the middle of the small convoy. The five Legion Premiere Landrovers had little trouble making their way through the trickle of refugees that had been let into the city by the military checkpoints that guarded the highway into the city.
Legionnaire Vanders was given shotgun in the lead vehicle, with Jacques and one other Legionnaire taking the back seats. They were stopped at each of the military check points, and even by one patrol in the city proper, and each time Jacques had dismounted, and spoke in private with the commanding officer. And each time he remounted with less physical cash tucked into a pouch on his load-bearing vest, and a rapidly worsening hope for the outlook of Sierra Leone.
Corruption was rampant in the organized chaos that currently existed. The government had come to a halt. Public services were already suffering due to lack of funding. The military knew full well that under the current situation, they were not being paid. And so bribes were a necessary evil. Many of the men who joined the Sierra Leone military had never done so out of a sense of civic duty. They had done it for easy jobs and a steady pay.
As they passed the layers of checkpoints that guarded Freetown along the highway, the orders that the military were operating under became readily apparent. Seacans or existing buildings had been pressed into service as prison cells, where 'suspicious' individuals were held for processing. Abandoned vehicles were pushed into the ditches on the sides of the highway, their drivers arrested or the vehicles having broken down or simply run out of fuel.
Belongings lay scattered in piles at the checkpoints, where Sierra Leonean soldiers, loyal to General Wallace-Johnson, had 'searched' for contraband or weapons. Of course, any valuables were taken also, especially if the owner couldn't pay a worth-while bribe. The further from the city they drew, the larger the crowds gathered at each checkpoint, until they finally passed the last, at Waterloo.
A commandeered civilian tractor sat idling at one side, and a barricade of wrecked cars and earth had been erected as crude chicanes to block the road. A dozen soldiers were bolstered by dozens more militiamen, little more then common thugs with guns or machetes, enforcing ques as people struggled to be next in line to try their luck at passing into the rumored safety of Freetown.
The Landrovers were put to a harsh test as the Legion convoy was forced to drive off-road after paying their passage at the military checkpoint, but after a half hour of bushwacking through muddy side roads or fields, they were able to return to the relatively flat surface that was the Masiaka-Yonibana Highway.
The highway ran through industrial parks that had popped up in only the past few years, and residential slums that had existed for decades. The facilities were mostly abandoned after the recent violence, and many had been looted. Some sported fire damage, and countless millions of dollars of damage had been caused. Many of the facilities would never be reopened, even if the country were to have returned to normal that very day.
The facility the Legion had pressed into service as a refugee camp was actually located some ten kilometers south west of the large town, hidden away in the dense jungle and accessed by surprisingly well maintained, paved, roads. Some five minutes later they were met by two Legionnaires on quads who rev'd their all-terrain vehicles out of the jungle off the heavy duty road and led the convoy into the facility.
The industrial facility was a state of the art processing plant. Mined oar was shipped in by truck, and a 'low pollution' processing technique turned out refined rhodium and other rare precious metals. A solid concrete fence surrounded the large facility, topped with rows of barbed wire and spaced surveillance cameras. Low towers dotted it's length and corners where security personnel could stand if the cameras failed or the added security was deemed necessary, and only one large automated gate allowed entrance to the facility.
Tall smoke stacks dominated the skyline of the facility, as well as the unknowably complex catwalks and open-framed structures that housed equipment and machinery. Nothing of the facility spoke of it being a good choice for a refugee camp, other then the perimeter wall of course. And the presence of the high-efficiency hydroelectric dam that provided a portion of the facility's operating power requirements. With none of the refinement processing running, it was enough to keep the lights, AC, and water running.
Hundreds of people had been taken in already, many residents of Masiaka or it's outlying communities. Most of the facility's workers had left, and few had bothered to return with their families, had they been lucky enough that they lived near the plant. The flag of the Red Cross flew from a flag pole that had likely once held the Chinese flag, as it had been one of their companies that owned the facility. That still owned it, technically.
The flag of Legion Premiere was sported from a far less prominent post below that of the Red Cross. Of course, calling the place a refugee camp was a stretch of the imagination. Sure, it had Red Cross staff to help aid those who had fled there for protection, but those staff were held there under protective custody more then being of their own free will. Luckily though, none of them were foolish enough to want to be outside the sturdy walls of the processing plant.
They passed the open gate, where a large earth mover sat just off from the gate to be used as an impromptu barricade should there have been cause. The facility had never been intended to house even the hundred or so workers that had been employed there. With the near two hundred refugees living within the walls, the place was crowded but strangely organized.
Crude shelters had been built out of lumber harvested from the surrounding jungle, established in neat, organized rows with space between. Fires were communal, and used for cooking and boiling water; the facility had running water and a kitchen facility, but it was not nearly large enough to handle the number of people that were housed there.
But despite all the hard work of the Red Cross staff rescued from Masiaka, the severe shortage of supplies was readily evident. People were hungry and tired, without enough shelter. Wounds were bound with boiled re-used bandages, and many showed signs of infection and fever was already evident in the tightly packed population.
The Legion convoy entered the facility and the pair of Legionnaires on the quads turned away and resumed their patrol of the surrounding jungle. They occasionally found groups of people still hiding in the jungle, trying to escape the violence that had plagued Masiaka since the coup attempt. And worked to track any Temne rebels in the area.
Some of the Legionnaires present were wounded themselves; black eyes and split lips, bruises. They had extracted the Red Cross workers, but had not done so unscathed, and a few of their number had been beaten by an angry mob of Temne sympathizers before they had managed to escape thanks to their regular training in crowd control techniques. More importantly, thanks to those drills and skills, the Legionnaires and their locally hired guards hadn't resulted to deadly force.
The vehicles were guided to one side of the gate, where there was enough clear space that they would be able to circle and be ready to drive out again when Jacques and Natalie's inspections were complete. That done, everyone finally dismounted.
Some of the Legionnaires were directed towards a few of the perimeter towers; their CEO and a VIP were on the ground, so the added security was deemed necessary. A few others would be tasked to unloading what few supplies they had managed to cart out to the waiting Red Cross staff and Legionnaires; ammo and a pair of Mk14 rifles and a shotgun.
For the Red Cross staff, there were some fresh medical supplies. Not nearly enough to meet their needs, but it was all they could spare for the camp until the airport was reopened and the Legion could start bringing in more supplies. Some food was also unloaded. There would soon be crews on the road driving the dangerous route from Morocco to Sierra Leone in a convoy of transport trucks guarded by Panhards. They would not arrive for ten days at the earliest.
Jacques returned the salute of the ranking officer of the camp, Lt Aaron Kamenashi, a seasoned Moroccan soldier that had joined the Legion only two years prior. "Sir. It is good to see friendly faces. We were visited by some Temne 'soldiers' this morning who were very interested in searching the camp for persons of interest. Cost my watch and wedding ring."
There was little doubt as to how that would have played out had Lt Kamenashi had let them in.
Jacques nodded in understanding and tugged back his sleeve, pulling free a watch he had won in a poker game some years ago the day the previous CEO had died in Nigeria, then took the Moroccan man's hand and slapped the watch in his palm, "My men need watches, Lieutenant. Timings are very important."
He smiled without hesitation; his men had done well, even as isolated as they were.
"Th...thank you, Sir."
He knew not to refuse Jacques' gift. It wasn't simply to replace the man's lost watch. It would likely end up being used as a bribe to help keep violence at bay in the future. He saluted to Jacques again then turned to Natalie next, "Ma'am, your people have set up office in this building over here. Houses the mess and clinic."
The situation in the city were quiet. Almost peaceful, if one could ignore the still fresh damage that had been caused by the fighting. The fires were extinguished, but the gutted ruins of apartments and businesses remained. The ruined hospitals and schools, government buildings. Military vehicles patrolling the streets, and curfews in place. It was not a peaceful quiet.
There was a steady flow of refugees into the city, but not nearly as overwhelming as may have been expected. Jacques' suspicions, and the reports of some of his men manning a make-shift refugee camp near the city, were quickly confirmed as a five vehicle convoy departed the Legion's headquarters in the now mostly empty embassy district.
Unusually, Jacques rode in the lead vehicle, leaving Natalie and Legionnaire Carpenter in the middle of the small convoy. The five Legion Premiere Landrovers had little trouble making their way through the trickle of refugees that had been let into the city by the military checkpoints that guarded the highway into the city.
Legionnaire Vanders was given shotgun in the lead vehicle, with Jacques and one other Legionnaire taking the back seats. They were stopped at each of the military check points, and even by one patrol in the city proper, and each time Jacques had dismounted, and spoke in private with the commanding officer. And each time he remounted with less physical cash tucked into a pouch on his load-bearing vest, and a rapidly worsening hope for the outlook of Sierra Leone.
Corruption was rampant in the organized chaos that currently existed. The government had come to a halt. Public services were already suffering due to lack of funding. The military knew full well that under the current situation, they were not being paid. And so bribes were a necessary evil. Many of the men who joined the Sierra Leone military had never done so out of a sense of civic duty. They had done it for easy jobs and a steady pay.
As they passed the layers of checkpoints that guarded Freetown along the highway, the orders that the military were operating under became readily apparent. Seacans or existing buildings had been pressed into service as prison cells, where 'suspicious' individuals were held for processing. Abandoned vehicles were pushed into the ditches on the sides of the highway, their drivers arrested or the vehicles having broken down or simply run out of fuel.
Belongings lay scattered in piles at the checkpoints, where Sierra Leonean soldiers, loyal to General Wallace-Johnson, had 'searched' for contraband or weapons. Of course, any valuables were taken also, especially if the owner couldn't pay a worth-while bribe. The further from the city they drew, the larger the crowds gathered at each checkpoint, until they finally passed the last, at Waterloo.
A commandeered civilian tractor sat idling at one side, and a barricade of wrecked cars and earth had been erected as crude chicanes to block the road. A dozen soldiers were bolstered by dozens more militiamen, little more then common thugs with guns or machetes, enforcing ques as people struggled to be next in line to try their luck at passing into the rumored safety of Freetown.
The Landrovers were put to a harsh test as the Legion convoy was forced to drive off-road after paying their passage at the military checkpoint, but after a half hour of bushwacking through muddy side roads or fields, they were able to return to the relatively flat surface that was the Masiaka-Yonibana Highway.
The highway ran through industrial parks that had popped up in only the past few years, and residential slums that had existed for decades. The facilities were mostly abandoned after the recent violence, and many had been looted. Some sported fire damage, and countless millions of dollars of damage had been caused. Many of the facilities would never be reopened, even if the country were to have returned to normal that very day.
The facility the Legion had pressed into service as a refugee camp was actually located some ten kilometers south west of the large town, hidden away in the dense jungle and accessed by surprisingly well maintained, paved, roads. Some five minutes later they were met by two Legionnaires on quads who rev'd their all-terrain vehicles out of the jungle off the heavy duty road and led the convoy into the facility.
The industrial facility was a state of the art processing plant. Mined oar was shipped in by truck, and a 'low pollution' processing technique turned out refined rhodium and other rare precious metals. A solid concrete fence surrounded the large facility, topped with rows of barbed wire and spaced surveillance cameras. Low towers dotted it's length and corners where security personnel could stand if the cameras failed or the added security was deemed necessary, and only one large automated gate allowed entrance to the facility.
Tall smoke stacks dominated the skyline of the facility, as well as the unknowably complex catwalks and open-framed structures that housed equipment and machinery. Nothing of the facility spoke of it being a good choice for a refugee camp, other then the perimeter wall of course. And the presence of the high-efficiency hydroelectric dam that provided a portion of the facility's operating power requirements. With none of the refinement processing running, it was enough to keep the lights, AC, and water running.
Hundreds of people had been taken in already, many residents of Masiaka or it's outlying communities. Most of the facility's workers had left, and few had bothered to return with their families, had they been lucky enough that they lived near the plant. The flag of the Red Cross flew from a flag pole that had likely once held the Chinese flag, as it had been one of their companies that owned the facility. That still owned it, technically.
The flag of Legion Premiere was sported from a far less prominent post below that of the Red Cross. Of course, calling the place a refugee camp was a stretch of the imagination. Sure, it had Red Cross staff to help aid those who had fled there for protection, but those staff were held there under protective custody more then being of their own free will. Luckily though, none of them were foolish enough to want to be outside the sturdy walls of the processing plant.
They passed the open gate, where a large earth mover sat just off from the gate to be used as an impromptu barricade should there have been cause. The facility had never been intended to house even the hundred or so workers that had been employed there. With the near two hundred refugees living within the walls, the place was crowded but strangely organized.
Crude shelters had been built out of lumber harvested from the surrounding jungle, established in neat, organized rows with space between. Fires were communal, and used for cooking and boiling water; the facility had running water and a kitchen facility, but it was not nearly large enough to handle the number of people that were housed there.
But despite all the hard work of the Red Cross staff rescued from Masiaka, the severe shortage of supplies was readily evident. People were hungry and tired, without enough shelter. Wounds were bound with boiled re-used bandages, and many showed signs of infection and fever was already evident in the tightly packed population.
The Legion convoy entered the facility and the pair of Legionnaires on the quads turned away and resumed their patrol of the surrounding jungle. They occasionally found groups of people still hiding in the jungle, trying to escape the violence that had plagued Masiaka since the coup attempt. And worked to track any Temne rebels in the area.
Some of the Legionnaires present were wounded themselves; black eyes and split lips, bruises. They had extracted the Red Cross workers, but had not done so unscathed, and a few of their number had been beaten by an angry mob of Temne sympathizers before they had managed to escape thanks to their regular training in crowd control techniques. More importantly, thanks to those drills and skills, the Legionnaires and their locally hired guards hadn't resulted to deadly force.
The vehicles were guided to one side of the gate, where there was enough clear space that they would be able to circle and be ready to drive out again when Jacques and Natalie's inspections were complete. That done, everyone finally dismounted.
Some of the Legionnaires were directed towards a few of the perimeter towers; their CEO and a VIP were on the ground, so the added security was deemed necessary. A few others would be tasked to unloading what few supplies they had managed to cart out to the waiting Red Cross staff and Legionnaires; ammo and a pair of Mk14 rifles and a shotgun.
For the Red Cross staff, there were some fresh medical supplies. Not nearly enough to meet their needs, but it was all they could spare for the camp until the airport was reopened and the Legion could start bringing in more supplies. Some food was also unloaded. There would soon be crews on the road driving the dangerous route from Morocco to Sierra Leone in a convoy of transport trucks guarded by Panhards. They would not arrive for ten days at the earliest.
Jacques returned the salute of the ranking officer of the camp, Lt Aaron Kamenashi, a seasoned Moroccan soldier that had joined the Legion only two years prior. "Sir. It is good to see friendly faces. We were visited by some Temne 'soldiers' this morning who were very interested in searching the camp for persons of interest. Cost my watch and wedding ring."
There was little doubt as to how that would have played out had Lt Kamenashi had let them in.
Jacques nodded in understanding and tugged back his sleeve, pulling free a watch he had won in a poker game some years ago the day the previous CEO had died in Nigeria, then took the Moroccan man's hand and slapped the watch in his palm, "My men need watches, Lieutenant. Timings are very important."
He smiled without hesitation; his men had done well, even as isolated as they were.
"Th...thank you, Sir."
He knew not to refuse Jacques' gift. It wasn't simply to replace the man's lost watch. It would likely end up being used as a bribe to help keep violence at bay in the future. He saluted to Jacques again then turned to Natalie next, "Ma'am, your people have set up office in this building over here. Houses the mess and clinic."
