Post by Jacob Sanswe on Jun 18, 2015 9:51:28 GMT
The boatman turns on his Radio. (Click.)
Gabon, 1:00 PM.
The motor boat skimmed along the river. Inside, it carried various cargo. Several hundred machetes, glocks and even a few AKMs here and there.
It's driver was a local hired by the GLA, one of many. Several small caches were on its way to the outskirts of various towns and villages, being smuggled into the country; ever since the nuclear explosion in Mecca and the Vatican. Jacob Sanswe had been procuring weapons to arm several thousand people, all cheaply made weapons. Gabon was not a very well developed nation at this point in time. Social problems persisted and the recent American occupation wasn't exactly taken lightly by the locals, as the airports were under their direct authority and control. The nation's progress had been long impeded by outside powers, the local government wasn't exactly competent either, especially with the last election being nothing more then an American sponsored overruling of candidacy to install a puppet regime.
Many locals, had in secret been listening to the internet radio station; Bastard Brigands radio. It was an Africa wide radio station that had its frequencies mostly based in the neighbouring Democratic Republic of Congo; albeit the the nation was less of a sovereign state than a territory under the stewardship of GLA aligned warlords and paramilitary commanders.
Whilst many feared the GLA the truth was many civilians looked up to them and were slowly starting to turn their ears to the station.
Poverty was rife and the government had been, under the US military's direction increasing security; making checkpoints and whilst it was manned by local soldiers, the feeling of alienation for the country's own populace was high. While poverty was unsolved military spending and catering to the American forces was the priority of the government due to the GLA presence, and people were tired of it.
Troops were mobilizing as well; albeit in lesser numbers.
A border checkpoint was being attacked right at the moment 3 kilometers in the south, away from the boatman to allow him to slip down the river without impediment or attention.
The howitzer tried in the American-Gabonese controlled checkpoint missed its target; as the vehicle kept driving forward with yelling, motivated rebels, mercenaries and even a terrorist laden with explosives.
A technical loaded with terrorists and mercenaries with machetes and shotguns and other close quarters weapons, being dropped right near a checkpoint. The mercenaries had already cut down the American sergeant with their machetes, hacking him piece from piece. The others were being overwhelmed, and as soon as a humvee drove forward the technical drove right into it, and a man laden with a semtex charge jumped into the windshield of the humvee as the technical skidded off, exploding on the dashboard of the armoured American vehicle. The Gabonese soldiers were likely gunned down; unprepared by the rapid attack. As quickly as the GLA struck this fringe outpost, setting a charge on the gun and blowing it up, taking whatever guns and ammo they could loot; drove off back into the jungles of Congo. This was a similar story across various checkpoints, albeit not always this successful. The situation of Gabon and West Africa was ugly. The cities on the coast faired no less better, as police constantly had to deal with rampant crime. Sometimes calling in the soldiers just to shoot the belligerents- the belligerents being poor citizens desperate and in poor status and condition. Poverty. Crime. Terror on the borders.
What is wrong, what is right? What is the crime of the poor? Will our destiny improve? All these questions were asked. But the GLA had an objective here. The GLA promised the people the oppressors would be cut down.
Soon perhaps, that would happen.
Gabon, 1:00 PM.
The motor boat skimmed along the river. Inside, it carried various cargo. Several hundred machetes, glocks and even a few AKMs here and there.
It's driver was a local hired by the GLA, one of many. Several small caches were on its way to the outskirts of various towns and villages, being smuggled into the country; ever since the nuclear explosion in Mecca and the Vatican. Jacob Sanswe had been procuring weapons to arm several thousand people, all cheaply made weapons. Gabon was not a very well developed nation at this point in time. Social problems persisted and the recent American occupation wasn't exactly taken lightly by the locals, as the airports were under their direct authority and control. The nation's progress had been long impeded by outside powers, the local government wasn't exactly competent either, especially with the last election being nothing more then an American sponsored overruling of candidacy to install a puppet regime.
Many locals, had in secret been listening to the internet radio station; Bastard Brigands radio. It was an Africa wide radio station that had its frequencies mostly based in the neighbouring Democratic Republic of Congo; albeit the the nation was less of a sovereign state than a territory under the stewardship of GLA aligned warlords and paramilitary commanders.
Whilst many feared the GLA the truth was many civilians looked up to them and were slowly starting to turn their ears to the station.
Poverty was rife and the government had been, under the US military's direction increasing security; making checkpoints and whilst it was manned by local soldiers, the feeling of alienation for the country's own populace was high. While poverty was unsolved military spending and catering to the American forces was the priority of the government due to the GLA presence, and people were tired of it.
Troops were mobilizing as well; albeit in lesser numbers.
A border checkpoint was being attacked right at the moment 3 kilometers in the south, away from the boatman to allow him to slip down the river without impediment or attention.
The howitzer tried in the American-Gabonese controlled checkpoint missed its target; as the vehicle kept driving forward with yelling, motivated rebels, mercenaries and even a terrorist laden with explosives.
A technical loaded with terrorists and mercenaries with machetes and shotguns and other close quarters weapons, being dropped right near a checkpoint. The mercenaries had already cut down the American sergeant with their machetes, hacking him piece from piece. The others were being overwhelmed, and as soon as a humvee drove forward the technical drove right into it, and a man laden with a semtex charge jumped into the windshield of the humvee as the technical skidded off, exploding on the dashboard of the armoured American vehicle. The Gabonese soldiers were likely gunned down; unprepared by the rapid attack. As quickly as the GLA struck this fringe outpost, setting a charge on the gun and blowing it up, taking whatever guns and ammo they could loot; drove off back into the jungles of Congo. This was a similar story across various checkpoints, albeit not always this successful. The situation of Gabon and West Africa was ugly. The cities on the coast faired no less better, as police constantly had to deal with rampant crime. Sometimes calling in the soldiers just to shoot the belligerents- the belligerents being poor citizens desperate and in poor status and condition. Poverty. Crime. Terror on the borders.
What is wrong, what is right? What is the crime of the poor? Will our destiny improve? All these questions were asked. But the GLA had an objective here. The GLA promised the people the oppressors would be cut down.
Soon perhaps, that would happen.