Left on his lonesome by the Australian Lieutenant's departure, Nathan heads on to the post office. Just managing to grab his footlocker of gear before the tired looking clerk shuttered the counter the Frenchman carries it outside before popping the latches. Right on top, centered on top of his plate carrier, was a short barreled revolver with rubber grips in a black shoulder holster.
Making sure it was secure he deposited the rest of it in his room with the locks back on after taking out the olive drab coveralls from the bottom. Suiting up, putting a few small tools and bits in his pockets he too set off in search of his tanks. It didn't take long to find them again, though there was already a small crowd formed around the vehicles.
Let God do His work, we will see to ours. Bring in the candles."I wasn't expectin' to be 'ere either, but the bar's out of amber, an' I ain't gettin' blotto on the thin stuff they're servin'," Amelia said. She touched the brim of her hat: no officers' insignia could she see, which argued against a more formal salute. "Leftenant Amelia Walewska, reportin' ahead o' duty. Salaam alaikum, mates," she added. "One o' those tanks is mine, I think..."
Charlie Stross's cheerful, optimistic predictions for 2017, part one of three."Lieutenant John Neeson." He saluted Amelia back. "Former Irish Army by way of 1 Brigade Cavalry Squadron at Cork and the Combat Support College at Kildare."
He dropped the salute afterwards. "Today's going to be my second year of my residence here with the brigade."
"Excuse us, sir." One of the Arab African mechanics saluted Neeson with his companion doing so.
"I'll see you gents tomorrow." Neeson saluted in return.
The two men excused themselves, heading back to the male volunteer barracks.
One can notice that his BDU has Velcro provisions on, which was used for his name badge at the right side and for the Harrawian flag at the left sleeve by way of shoulder.
"Yes, I can see why you want to check them out." Neeson pointed to the AMX-13 in a tarp. "But I'm manning the maintenance crew to do maintenance tomorrow since it's late and curfew is coming in." He then pointed to the American-made LAV-300 Mark IIs equipped with 90-mm Cockerill Mk III guns and Sri Lankan-made Unibuffel Mark IIs. They were painted Singaporean digital desert camo. "That's until we can make them operationally ready."
"I must say that you're probably the first Australian woman to be recruited to the brigade."
Clark got inside the store and ordered a couple of microwable risottos in wild mushroom flavor with a couple of bottled water from Evian. He paid 8 dollars for everything before he started to put the container in the microwave.
"Getting to work tomorrow?" Mark asked when he finished preparing his cup noodle.
"Yes, I am." Clark replied. "But we'll start at your debriefing. I'll have to discuss them with Michael later."
"Good luck with that." Mark nodded before he got a bottle of Evian water from the counter and paid for it.
edited 22nd Feb '15 6:42:00 PM by Ominae
Reading tropes such as You Know What You Did
"I see." Brittaney nodded politely, somehow the idea of how well stocked the store was when Hawarri were hiring mercenaries made her think. Was it something worth pursuing? For some reason it seemed...they appeared to be going out of their way to look after her and the others who had been hired, the Lieutenant couldn't complain about that. What about the local forces? Maybe when they were briefed tomorrow they could explain it. "Could you let your CO know I wanted to ask for a little more detail on the situation please?" she asked, pocketing the drinks. "I'll be having a smoke if he's looking for me."
Currently reading up My Rule Fu Is Stronger than YoursAmelia flashed a brief grin, although it wasn't enough to hide her dismay. "First o' a whole buncha things, I'd imagine," she said absently. "Then again, same could be said f'r the other volunteers." She walked up to the tank, inspecting it as best as she could without being able to get inside: perhaps not quite factory-fresh, but promising. Small, though, significantly smaller than the infantry fighting vehicles she was used to, and not much better-armed either, although that could easily change. Gonna need the external storage racks, she thought. She looked over the wheeled vehicles briefly—presumably they'd operate with her as a composite troop, though she'd have to be quite lucky if she got to keep the Unibuffels—and turned to Neeson. "Say, Neeson, 'ope you don't mind if I'm here tomorra to meet some a' the mechanics an' the troopers. Oh, you're 'ere too, Nathan? 'Ere's our tin cans, it looks like—I didn't catch that you were in the cav, too?"
Charlie Stross's cheerful, optimistic predictions for 2017, part one of three.
Reading tropes such as You Know What You Did
That was twice Brittaney had a question avoided. In her some twenty years in the military that was twice more than she had experienced. It wasn't enough to raise a warning flag but she found it odd. Maybe jumping to the private sector had something to do with it, or there was some level of suspicion towards rank and file soldiers. Or maybe it was a case that Brittaney was seen as just another spear carrier rather than someone who could, possibly, do more.
"Of course," she said finally, letting the matter drop for now. There were a million things to ask actually, chief among them how the people of Harrawi were coping, and thought that was a tack worth using. "He already knows but my concern is your countrymen, I want to help if I can." Whether or not the idea would work she was sincere, and wanted to know more. Well it could wait until tomorrow. "Thanks for the drinks, if I can help," she paused, finding her smokes, "you know where to find me."
Currently reading up My Rule Fu Is Stronger than Yours"Preferably something with some kick," Adam snapped his fingers a bit, he was caught wondering what was that one spice called. He had enjoyed it on a curry dish but for the life of him he couldn't remember.
Adam sighed, "I'll just buy some rice, chicken, and some vegetables for now. I'll recall the spice later."
Might as well get in a meal he made himself before the Higher ups called them out for the job.
Right now, volunteer soldiers were sliding in letters underneath the doors of the rooms in the barracks, reminding the recruits that 6:30 AM is the required time to get up and to assemble at headquarters for a combat briefing with the others at 9:30 AM. Until then, they need to head to the PX store and get their issued BDUs and workout clothes.
John simply grinned at Amelia.
"Not a bad place to be though. Served out of Ireland many times in various peacekeeping ops."
He then heard the Australian's question.
"Certainly." The Irish volunteer replied. "But I recommend that you need to get up early to do that at say... around 7 or 7:10 in the morning since the motor pool and the hangars should be open by then. The Póilíní Airms are very strict when they open and close shop around here."
"Not at all." Sergeant Lee replied to Brittaney. "I suggest asking the reception desk at the barracks if you need further questions."
He focused his attention to Adam now. "I recommend looking under the Microwavable Food shelf next to the Juices and Milk. The Military Police contingent assigned to the base are very strict with regards to the schedule."
Mark then ate his cup noodles while Clark had just finished getting the risotto out. He then ate one for himself, being almost done when he heated up the other risotto.
"No worries, mate," Amelia said. "I'll be there. We got a cav troop to run!" She grinned at the Frenchman who'd joined them. "Pity there ain't the fast armored cars here, but the Cad-Gage is close, ain't it? Strewth, I don't think you ever said which regiment you were in."
Charlie Stross's cheerful, optimistic predictions for 2017, part one of three."About that..." John explained to Amelia. "The commander has personally mentioned that the base will receive new equipment. But that's going to depend on how fast the modernization pace will go with the regular forces before the volunteers get a chance in it."
A couple of MPs were now making their rounds, approaching the outskirts of the motor pool/hangar area.
Adam paid for the supplies and headed back to the barracks, content with the supplies he got. He looked about and saw the M Ps walking about.
He whistled at the number of them and continued on. He would ask about supplies and weapons when that came forth.
Reading tropes such as You Know What You Did
After her smoke Brittaney thought to have a bit of a look around at the base, figuring if people were reluctant to tell her anything then maybe she could gain some information from what she could observe, and making sure her ID was firmly clipped on and visible made her way to the hangers. With her pilot training that could well be one of the roles she would play in the conflict, although what Brittaney would really like to do is serve as an instructor, passing on the skills from the Marines and ORCA. The Lieutenant smiled suddenly, remembering one such trainee who had impressed her so much despite a checkered past, kind of reminded Brittaney of herself.
Ken. She waved the thought off after a moment, moving casually like she had served around the hangers for years, seeing what there was to see, observing, taking mental notes for later.
Currently reading up My Rule Fu Is Stronger than YoursHe nods to the Irishman, attention still on the visible form of the LA Vs, "Only fair after all, it is their country."
"I was, what I believe you would call a Para," he says to Amelia and continues on. "I've seen worse," he says with a grin that belies the apparent harshness of that comment, "Ever ridden in a BMP? That is a proper pain in the ass."
Let God do His work, we will see to ours. Bring in the candles.Corporal van der Vuur is in the barracks, having just finished packing away all his meager possessions he brought with. He had arrived a day earlier, one of the few volunteers from South Africa. Tired from the trip, and overcome by the sudden Harrawi heat, he had merely plopped down on his bed and rested. The trip had been long and boring, but he was rather sad that he couldn't have been on the plane longer.
Now, his locker was neatly packed, but rather sparse. All he had brought and stowed away was his civilian clothes, his reading glasses and a pair sunglasses. His khaki boer hat hung on the corner, taking a much needed rest from his head. He had his USP .45 Tactical in a holster, concealed underneath his shirt. As the note slid under the door, he picked it up.
"6 AM, eh? Ja nee, some things just never change. Just like being back at school. Except all the teachers and students have guns." He shakes his head with a small smile on his face, caught up in old memories.
Since he's not had supper yet, he makes his way to the mess hall. In fact, he hadn't had anything to eat in a while, but it meant little to a hardened hunter to go without food for a while, days even.
The South African would arrive at the dining hall to see a few volunteer soldiers eating away. It wasn't packed as much anymore since most were now trying to get back to their respective barracks to take a shower and sleep before curfew arrives.
"I didn't expect anyone to come so soon." One of the male soldiers working behind the counter said when he saw him arrive.
"You must another volunteer who just arrived." John addressed Nathan. "I've already introduced myself to Amelia, but I'm Lieutenant John Neeson, former Irish Army and in charge of the mechanics around here."
The MPs arrived at the outskirts of the motor pool and saw John talking to Amelia and Nathan.
"Is everything okay, sir?" One of the MPs asked John.
"We're fine!" John replied. "I'm entertaining a couple of visitors today."
"Okay. Just be sure to lock things up. Curfew's almost coming."
Clark finished his meal and went to bring to Michael the other risotto in the heatproof bag, already microwaved. Mark was busy finishing off the last of his cup noodle when he drank the spicy soup. By now, Michael has already finished taking a shower and was now back in the shared quarters.
"Thanks." Mark waved goodbye to the soldiers in the PX store and walked back to the barracks.
In front of one of the hangars, a couple of mechanics were seen closing the door for the night. It was hard to get a look at their faces since their backs were facing against anyone trying to look at them.
Jacques is rather quiet as he sidles up to the counter, wondering exactly what he wanted to eat.
"Well, I'm here. Second day technically. What's on the menu today?"
He fidgets a bit, obviously uncomfortable at social situations. Plus, he's still affected by the heat a bit.
"Also, any interesting news going around? Never hurts to know the current situation. Or do I have to wait for the briefing?"
"Well..." The soldier grinned. "The chef today wants to try out Asian food, starting with Thai and Indonesian curry for dinner. Mostly beef and pork. You're fine with that, right? Almost forgot to mention that they're halal standard too."
He looked around and moved closer over the counter before he continued. "I know that there's a briefing tomorrow with all the new recruits. I don't know much, but the news I got suggests a major operation at the north with the Djiboutian border. Maybe has something to do with some changes to be made with comms and all."
The soldier frowned. "Just don't tell anyone it's from me, alright? Don't want the MPs to detain me for spreading this kind of info."
edited 1st Mar '15 5:34:19 AM by Ominae
"Curry, you say? I don't suppose there's much difference from the curry I can get down in Durban back home? I'll take that, beef please, spicy if possible."
He looks mildly surprised. The only curry he'd ever been exposed to was the South African Indian curry, and that could get VERY spicy. But he loved it all the same.
"A border job? Guess my training will finally show up in real combat. I'll keep this to myself, don't worry."
"I 'ave. Pers'nally I can't see what all the whingein's about, I fit bloody perfectly," said Amelia, with the tiniest hint of self-deprecation. Even though the Soviets had designed their vehicles for smaller, shorter crew than their Western counterparts, they were still quite cramped for 160cm-tall-men in full battledress—which was to say, they were perfectly sized for her. At barely over one and a half meters, Amelia was usually the shortest member of any unit she was attached to. "Modernization...I get the feelin' we ain't quite the Foreign Legion, 'ere. Abe Lincoln Brigade, maybe," she added. She waved goodbye to the Irishman. "Just carryin' on the family tradition...anyhoo, permission to part company. Curfew's gonna be a bitch." From a distance, she could see Brittaney around the hangars: she gave a brief wave, unsure if she was seen, but continued on, angling towards the PX to pick up dinner. No MREs or the CR1Ms yet.
This really did seem like a peacetime base. There was a certain attitude in the air she couldn't quite place—an indolent sense of everyday life going on, not at all like the pervading tension in the air in the patrol bases in Afghanistan or Iraq—closer to the bases she had known in Australia and Poland, perhaps, but even compared to those the relative lack of personnel and activity was striking. Maybe this'll be a peaceful tour after all, she thought.
Charlie Stross's cheerful, optimistic predictions for 2017, part one of three."Here you go, mate. Enjoy."
The soldier handed to Jacques a tray with the spicy beef in red Thai curry sauce with a bowl of chicken soup and white rice.
"Let me know if you need anything else."
Mark has already finished getting his clothes to the locker room to get a shower up and running. Afterwards, he went back to his quarters and received the letter.
Dang. But this is unusual anyway. He sighed and placed the letter on the table.
"Thanks, I'm sure this is all."
Jacques heads over to an empty spot and starts eating, quickly and quietly. It was not as spicy as he was used to, but it was still delicious and savoury.
"Guess there's no difference between a border job and a game ranger, né? Go to the perimeter and just make sure that you do the job right." He mutters under his breath, remembering some of the times he had helped out at game parks against poachers.
Ag maar, it's what I volunteered to do. Better to do it and try and enjoy it. Who knows, maybe I'll get a promotion when I get back home.
He finishes off, and heads back to the barracks before curfew.
Reading tropes such as You Know What You Did
"Hey guys." Given how tight lipped everyone else Brittaney spoke to it may have been foolish to speak to the mechanics she saw when looking inside the hanger, but the Lieutenant couldn't resist. It had been her experience that it was always good to build a rapport with the ground crews or support team, and in any case she was keen on finding out what she could, see if there was a way to help. "What are you working on?"
Currently reading up My Rule Fu Is Stronger than Yours

Sergeant Lee smiled at Brittaney. "The previous quartermaster did that to appeal to some of the volunteers feeling homesick."
Sergeant Zuma got the money from her and gave her change worth 12 dollars and 50 cents.
Lee then heard the question from Adam. "Yes, we do. But do you have something in mind?"
The digital clock behind the customer service counter read 9:02 PM.
Mark lined up to pay up for a Nissin-made cup noodle with spicy flavor.
Amelia would see a Caucacian man and a couple of Arab Africans securing the tarp of one of the AMX-13 tanks. They were wearing Harimau Gurun desert BDUs.
"I wasn't expecting to see visitors today." The Caucasian man with brown hair spoke to Amelia. He had an Irish English accent. Specifically a Local Dublin English accent.
edited 22nd Feb '15 7:13:07 AM by Ominae