NationStates Jolt Archive

The city of Constantine, situated near the apex of the peninsular province of Bellecôte, was the only deep-water port in New Transvaal, and had naturally established itself as the center of activity for the nascent Transvaaler Navy. This relative importance did little to offset the city’s negative aspects. A warm breeze blew in from the sea, laden with the heavy and humid scent of salt. Bright sunlight glared harshly off of the surface of the water, and beat down from the sky causing anyone out of doors to become thoroughly soaked in sweat after just a few minutes. Visitors from other parts of the Republic often joked that it was the unforgivably hot climate that contribute to the stereotypically negative attitude of the residents of the predominantly French-speaking Bellecôte province.

Private Micky Walters, First Transvaal Marine Regiment, leaned against a palm tree, trying to stay as still as possible in what little shade the tree offered. He heard footsteps behind him, and in a moment the greating told him it was his friend François, a burly Afrikaner from Karasburg who’d joined the Marines out of a desire to see the rest of the country and get out into the wider world.

“Howzit, bru?”

“You know, the same deal as ever, mun,” replied Walters, using the general friendly term for anyone who wasn’t a frog in the province. “Would you happen to know what that ship over there is, huh?”

“Colors don’t look familiar. You know something I don’t, bru?”

Walters looked around furtively, as if he had some great secret to share. “Well, my friend, the word is that it’s some higher-ups from Oceania, come to educate our little republic on the ways of using shiny ships to cause violence.”

François grinned slowly. “Huh, maybe if we get some real ships, then we can be real marines and get out of this forsaken city.”

Dockside

Captain Andries Koenekoop stood at attention with several Transvaaler Marines as the Oceanian officers disembarked. The Transvaaler Marines, given the nature of the Republican Navy, were little more than port security, but the automatic weapons at their sides showed they were as serious about their jobs as any hardened veteran of the great powers of the world. Koenekoop was just one captain, in one battalion of marines, in one of the armed forces of one of tiny countries in the world, but he was a fierce patriot, and was determined to fulfill his mission of learning as much about naval theory and doctrine as possible from these Oceanians, so that someday Transvaal would have its place in the sun. Speaking of which, Koenekoop was sweating already, even in the light and breathable dress uniform of the NT Marines.

As the Oceanians stepped onto the concrete pier, Koenekoop saluted and then extended his hand. “Welcome to Transvaal, sirs. My name is Andries Koenekoop, Captain in the First Marine Regiment. I’ll be your liason officer with the New Transvaal Defense Force, and your guide for as long as you need me.” His guttural accent lengthened the vowels and clipped some syllables, but he avoided falling into the African pidgin tsotsitaal that was popular among some military cliques. The foreigners should have no problem understanding him.

Off the coast of New Transvaal, painted in neutral greys with the white ensign snapping, then rolling and unfurling in the offshore breeze, lay a Royal Navy vessel at anchor, her draught so large to preclude her from entering the harbour. From a port side station, a small launch was lowered into the water, the pennant of the rear-admiral aboard flying from the small boat as its neared the docks of Constantine. The super-dreadnought astern of the launch, whose guns lay silent but still on sentry duty as her radar systems continually scanned the seaward approaches to the city while further out, beyond the horizon, her escorting cruisers and frigates patrolled with aircraft keeping watch from high above.

As the launch approached the dock, Rear-Admiral George Pierce gathered his briefcase and its documents under his arm while his own Royal Marine escorts kept their hands anxiously on their rifles. Pierce had no doubt about the sincerity of the Transvaalers, but his Royal Marine detail were not trained to be at ease. After a ten minute ride into the harbour, the launch pulled alongside the dock, the ratings securing the mooring lines and finally bring out the ramp upon the quarterdeck. The crew of the launch offered crisp salutes, dutifully returned by Pierce, who then exited the launch and stepped upon the pier.

He crisply returned Koenekoops's salute, smiled, and then took the marine's hand. "Thank you, Captain," he said politely albeit with a reserved nature that some non-Oceanians could well interpret as standoffishness. It was, however, the rigid formality of the Royal Navy and the more formal nature of Oceanian English. "I should like to thank you and your regiment for your services here today," he said, his own vowels rounded and drawn out but wholly clear and crisp.

Pierce knew he had a fine line to walk, deferential to the Transvaaler marine and the New Transvaal Navy despite the fact his super-dreadnought easily dwarfed by significant margins anything currently in service. It was intended as a sign of the potential of what Pierce and others in the Admiralty hoped would become a regional ally in the Indian Ocean.

Taking a moment, Pierce glanced about the naval base, taking a quick visual inspection of the present naval force and the visible disposition of defences. "A quick question for you, Captain," the Oceanian officer asked as the two made their way off the pier. "I should like to hear your own opinion of the naval service, your marines, and where you would like both to be in several years' time. That is, of course, if you shall allow the question."

Koenekoop noted the Oceanian’s roundabout glance at the port facility. There were few ships in harbor, but that was to be expected. The Transvaal Navy was a small force, and at any given time close to eighty percent of its ships were patrolling, the larger destroyers and frigates sailing from Constantine, and the smaller corvettes and other boast operating out of smaller ports around the country. Certainly nothing in the Republic’s arsenal approached the sheer scale and power of the dreadnaught anchored outside the harbor.

Leading Pierce off the pier and onto the sidewalk of the main waterfront street toward a waiting car, Koenekoop thought for a moment before answering. “From my own experience, and from what I’ve been briefed on, Admiral, our Republic cannot support a massive fleet sailing all the world’s oceans. We don’t have the money or the personnel, I’m afraid. But I do have to say that seeing your boat out there is quite impressive, sir. Maybe in a few decades…But you asked about the service and marines. As you may have noticed, our ships are for the most part outdated and small; we’ve nothing larger or newer than a Perry-class destroyer. Because of our limited naval capabilities, the Marines are similarly limited. At the moment we’re little more than port security, with the occasional military parade to make us feel like soldiers.” He stopped speaking for a moment as the two men reached the car. Opening Pierce’s door, he waited until the senior officer was seated before moving to the other side and getting in himself. The driver started the engine and turned on the air conditioning; Koenekoop reached into a small compartment and pulled out two bottles of cold water, offering one to Pierce.

“My superiors have authorized me to request the attachment of some Transvaaler Marines to an Oceanian Marine unit, in order to gain some real experience in marine infantry tactics and doctrine. When we’ve arrived at the base commander’s office, I’ll introduce you to the Minister of Defense and the Assistant Minister for the Marines, both of whom will be there.”

Pierce listed closely to Koenekoop, taking note of the importance of the comment about attempts to make the marines 'feel like soldiers.' As he entered the automobile, he smiled politely as the marine shut the door and then again as Koenekoop offered Pierce the bottle of water.

"I see no reason why Transvaaler Marines cannot serve with Oceanians--though I suppose actual arrangements would need to be worked out as to what capacity the Assistant Minister and the Marines themselves would prefer to serve. Currently, the Royal Marines, much like their Transvaaler counterparts, from what I have observed, serve in a similar capacity as the garrison for Royal Navy bases and installations. They also serve aboard warships at sea and as the primary ground force for amphibious operations. In recent combat operations, Royal Marines have also served as the primary ground stabilisation force."

Pierce paused for a moment to recall several theatres of current operations before speaking again. "As I recall, we still have Royal Marine regiments in New Albion and New London, as well as in Recedentia--all colonies of ours," he added quickly, realising that Koenekoop would be unfamiliar with the geography of the empire. "Additionally, we have forces preparing for ground combat operations in Haven as part of the NATO war effort and similarly we have regiments standing up for ground combat operations in Delesa, an Oceanian ally dealing with, shall we say, domestic instability," Pierce offered just the smallest hint of a smile, relishing briefly in the typical subtlety characteristic of Oceanians.

Koenekoop caught the hinted subtlety of the Oceanian; like most of the current military generation in Transvaal, he’d been trained by expatriate officers of the pre-1994 SADF. “Domestic Instability” had been the theme of many lectures and field exercises. Nodding in response to the Admiral’s comments, he replied, “I would imagine that the eventual goal for the Marines is to have them serve in a similar capacity tat you mentioned—that is, on board ships and in actual combat operations, in addition to the garrison duties they currently fulfill. But as you said, it would be best to discuss such long-term aims with the various bureaucrats who run such things. Ah, you see that building up ahead? It’s the base commander’s residence; he and the government types will be in there.”

The car pulled to a stop in front of the very European-looking red brick house, and the two naval officers got out and walked through the lawn to the front door, which was held open by one of the two guards. Both men offered crisp salutes to the officers, waiting first for Pierce and then Koenekoop to return them. Inside, Koenekoop dropped his empty water bottle into a recycling bin next to the door, and then led Pierce down a short hall into the large conference room that served as the informal briefing room for the commander of the New Transvaal Naval Service. Rear Admiral Bas Henk saluted his Oceanian counterpart, and then moved to introduce two civilians standing nearby.

“Admiral, this first gentleman is Mynheer Piet van Aarten, who is currently acting in the dual role of Deputy President of the Republic and as Minister for its defense. This fellow here is Richard Émile, Assistant Minister for the Marines.” Both van Aarten and Émile offered firm handshakes to the Oceanian officer, though Émile had something of a faraway look in his eyes, as if he was not really focused on the meeting. Van Aarten joined with Henk and Pierce to discuss the issues at hand, while Koenekoop pulled Émile aside to whisper something in his ear.

Van Aarten spoke first, in English unmarred by the guttural accents of his native Afrikaans. “Admiral Pierce, I would like to thank you once again for making this journey on behalf of your government. I’m sure Captain Koenekoop was superb in his hosting this morning, and I see him now discussing it with Monsieur Émile, but I hope you will forgive me if you must repeat yourself on anything. Admiral Henk and I are both your students for the time being. After having seen our facilities this morning, what more do you need to know about the Transvaaler Navy before we four can get to the day’s business?”

Throughout the introductions and before that the movements past the guards and marines, Pierce had grown to appreciate the formality of the Transvaaler service personnel--and after the introductions, with the exception of the man introduced to him as Émile, who appeared distant, equally appreciate of the bureaucrats.

"I should like to thank you, Deputy President, for hosting this first meeting between our two governments as well as the Royal Navy and the Transvaaler Navy. On the way here, I made careful note of the facilities present and available at Constantine and discussed with Captain Koenekoop his views as a line officer of his marine unit." Pierce paused and then added quickly, "but rest assured, Mr. Van Aarten and Rear-Admiral, the captain and I discussed only the current condition of the Transvaaler Marines and his presentation of a request for an exchange agreement of some sort or another."

Recalling the brief mention by Koenekoop of the navy during the ride to the commander's residence, Pierce then let the conversation drift towards the present. "I suppose, Deputy President, that, with all due respect to the opinion of Captain Koenekoop, a more official and government-sanctioned review of the current naval capabilities of New Transvaal as well as the perceived future of the Transvaaler Navy. Because, as I see it, without getting ahead of myself, a naval force of substantially larger size will certainly require more facilities than that of Constantine."

Van Aarten nodded, and gestured to Henk. The Admiral coughed to clear his throat, and spoke: “The Transvaal Navy fulfills its current operations admirably; there’s no question about that. Unfortunately, its present mission is somewhat limited: patrolling the coasts, preventing contraband from entering the ports, assisting civilian vessels, that sort of thing. But none of that is useful in a naval battle between the behemoth navies that sail the world’s oceans today. Now, all of us in this room are fully aware that the Republic cannot support, either in terms of funding or manpower, a navy to challenge the great powers of the world. That said, our eventual goal is to have a modern navy of sufficient capability to defend our shores and offer useful assistance to any ally who may need it.”

The Defense Minister interjected. “The facilities here in Constantine, and elsewhere in the country, will naturally have to be expanded to accommodate the changing needs of the Navy; the government is prepared to undergo that process.”

Henk nodded. “I do not, and my opinion is shared by the entire Cabinet, envision the Transvaal Navy as a great battlefleet with dozens upon dozens of dreadnaughts and fleet carriers. Perhaps a carrier or two to act as flagships and to provide air support to distant operations, but our main focus is going to be on cruisers and destroyers, again for purposes of defense and patrol of home and nearby waters.”

At this point Émile spoke up, briefly interrupting. “Admiral Pierce, if you have a moment when you’re done with the Deputy President and the Rear Admiral, I would like to discuss something with you. But please, continue.”

Van Aarten sighed. He turned back to face Pierce. “I apologize that we have all set upon you like vultures, Admiral. Please, if you would like a break, let us know and we can recess for the day.”

Pierce nodded thoughtfully through Van Aarten's explanation and reassurance that the government was prepared. He had heard similar statements of support, only to have new governments cancel various defence programmes--and so while he could not discount Van Aarten's statement of support out of hand, he took it with a relatively large grain of salt. Henk, however, was a man more of his own nature.

"I concur with your rather astute assessment of the situation, Admiral. It should likely take many years before a navy consisting of large battlefleets could be accumulated either by foreign purchases or domestic construction programmes. If you should allow me a moment," Pierce asked in a polite tone, taking the requested moment to open his briefcase and take from a leather-strap bound folder a single document that he handed to Henk.

"Here, Admiral, you shall find a brief proposition for a naval force in a year, five, and then ten years assuming defence spending growth inline with that of current population growth. Much of the initial spending will, as Mr. Van Aarten intimated, be focused upon the development of key infrastructure facilities. A carrier-based fleet will require airfields, fuel depots, logistical aircraft, training aircraft, ground- and sea-based early warning networks, et cetera."

Pierce took a moment to address Van Aarten, who the Oceanian surmised would need some explanation of potential costs and timeframes. "Assuming, Mr. Van Aarten, that your government should prefer some indigenous construction capability, itself always a boon to the maritime construction industry, an aircraft carrier programme would likely require seven or eight years. If procuring a foreign design perhaps as few as three or somewhere in between if an indigenous design with foreign assistance. Much of this time is for trials and training, as the operation of a carrier-centric fleet is far different than a coastal defence force. Unless Rear-Admiral Henk or his subordinates have served abroad, there is no direct knowledge within the Transvaaler Navy and that, unfortunately, is far more difficult to acquire."

"Cruisers and destroyers, Admiral," Pierce continued, quickly returning to the professional in the room for a more detail-orientated discussion point, "would require less of a shift from current operations. You said you operated a Perry-class frigate, a cost-effective platform for a force such as yours. For foreign operations, however, it would be rendered combat ineffective very quickly and as such I would recommend relegating it to coastal patrol duties. Acquisition or construction of destroyers or cruisers would be far easier than carriers and I applaud your decision to stick to areas that will likely be easiest for transition's sake."

Pierce quietly closed his briefcase. "I hope that helps for the moment, gentlemen," and then he turned to Émile, letting the others discuss what Pierce had just stated amongst themselves. "Minister, what would you like to discuss?"

Rear Admiral Henk nodded. Perhaps the greatest issue facing the New Transvaal Defense Force was not a lack of funding, or outdated equipment, but rather a near-complete lack of experience among the military. For more than a century, since the foundation of the Republic, the NTDF had fought no foreign wars. Even domestically, the role of the NTDF was generally limited to assisting in disaster relief missions; floods, earthquakes, and the like. There was a core of professionals in the military, immigrants who had come from South Africa, Rhodesia, and other parts of the world where men of their sort were no longer needed. Bu those men were older, generally relegated to mid-level staff work in another brilliant move by military bureaucracy. Henk allowed himself a brief smile. He was one such man, having served in the South African Navy during the late Eighties, at the end of that country’s great war. One of the lucky ones, who had gotten a real job instead of that of a desk-bound paper-pusher.

Émile coughed to clear his throat, and quickly scratched his left arm; something of a nervous tic. “Admiral, while you were discussing your business with the others, Captain Koenekoop told me about his discussion with you concerning attaching some of our Marines to Oceanian units. Are you the man I talk to about these matters, or do I need to inquire with a different office of your government?”

Scratching his arm again, Émile frowned. “You see, I don’t have this same military pride as the Admiral and the Captain. I realize that our armed forces, not matter how good their training, lack the fundamental experience that makes the difference between green recruits and actual soldiers. Transvaal soldiers need to see action in the real world. Now, obviously, they’d be slaughtered if we threw them into a fray with some of the great armies in the world. We’d like to start them off perhaps in a low intensity conflicts…as the good Captain may have told you, most of the training for our military comes from the former South African Defense Force; so naturally much of the training regimen focuses on such bush conflicts. I’m not asking the Oceanian government to hire our troops like mercenaries…maybe a joint operation, under Oceanian command, of course.”

Behind Émile, Koenekoop waited until the Oceanian wasn’t looking, and glared at the Assistant Minister. Koenekoop was loyal soldier and obeyed the civilian authority to the letter, but not the spirit. He had a strong dislike of the Assistant Minister; the man tried to pimp the Marines to foreign armies. Easing the glare before either the foreigner or his civilian superior would notice, Koenekoop uttered a barely audible sigh. He respected Admiral Henk and this Oceanian officer. They were both military men, and understood things that Émile just didn’t.

Pierce nodded contemplatively as Émile spoke. While not a state secret of sorts, the NATO-Commonnwealth war in Haven had effectively tied down numerous Oceanian assets, especially as it concerned the Royal Navy and the Royal Marines. Pierce doubted that the Transvaaler government knew the full extent of deployments, though if investigated at all would see that the UK maintained a sizable deterrent force in its home waters in case the war worsened for NATO. In either case, a much smaller conflict was providing its own difficulties; and while Pierce knew not the details, he knew enough that Émile's comments piqued his interest.

"Officially, sir," the Oceanian eventually responded, "it would be best to route all official inquiries through both the Foreign Office and the Admiralty, perhaps a triplicate form making its way to the Ministry of Defence." Pierce allowed himself a smug smile, if anything, the UK at least maintained a confusing bureaucracy that was a prime example of horrific efficiency.

"However, as a courtesy and unofficially, I can very well pass your request on to my superior officers and indeed my personal contacts in the Royal Marines command structure."

Pierce quietly mused about the possibility of Transvaaler marines serving alongside Oceanians on distant islands in some distant sea. With the exception of men like Koenekoop, the rank and file would fail to understand the reason for their deployment. And while certainly professional like the UK's own naval infantry, in that they would follow orders, it could well cause inefficiencies in the field that could lead to undesirable results. On the other hand, he knew of no other way to bring an inward-looking nation's combat force experience.

"Additionally, while again outside my direct purview at this moment," Pierce added after reflecting briefly, "it may also be advisable that for the time being, Transvaaler marines could visit UK facilities for joint-training operations and alike. Providing a degree of experience without subjecting your marines and yourself to unnecessary risk. All of this, of course, would have to be cleared with the Admiralty--but as I said, I can unofficially put in some requests and put pressure on some well-connected associates of mine in Georgetown."