Atruria
19-04-2008, 03:53
”I don’t know but I think I might
Jump from an airplane while in flight”
It was still somewhat dark as dawn began to rise into view at Robertson Barracks, the Atrurian military facility, in the Province of Australia, that was now playing host to an entire division. Sergeant Thabo Nkosi ran at the head of his squad, leading them in their ritual of early morning PT. As all nine men under his command hurried behind the sergeant to keep up with his pace, he called out cadence, which his soldiers then duly repeated.
”Soldier, soldier, have you heard
I'm gonna jump from a big iron bird
Up in the morning in the drizzlin' rain
Packed my chute and boarded the plane”
Though these troops donned the standard boots and camouflaged pants of the regular army, their distinctive shirts were not the same as those of standard issue. As opposed to the white t-shirts with ‘Army’ inscribed in green, these men all wore black t-shirts, with the words ‘4 Para’ printed on to each and every one of them. This signified their elite status as paratroopers of the 4th Parachute Brigade. Each and every one of them was a trained, hardened, and more fearsome animal than any run-of-the-mill combat infantryman.
”C-130 rollin' down the strip
4th Paras on a one-way trip
Mission Top Secret, destination unknown
They don't know if they're coming home”
As they neared the Barracks’ command post, the cadence began to die down and the soldiers turned to a halt. Among the multitudes of soldiers of the brigade already assembled, the squad located, and fell in with, their battalion. By now, the sun had just barely risen and the desert terrain of the Australian outback was becoming fully visible.
“Another fuckin’ day of training,” Nkosi heard one of his troops utter.
As Nkosi’s battalion commander took his position, to address the men, another snickered “Hah, here comes old mate just to make sure we know what we’re doing. Not as though we’ve done the exact same thing for the past three months straight or anything.”
Nkosi turned back, glared at the trooper and smacked him, half-jokingly, warning him to quiet down.
As the battalion commander came to center, Nkosi noticed a strange excitement in his eyes. “Gentlemen,” the officer announced, “Today, Exercise Northern Rain comes to an end. In three days time, Operation Northern Rain commences. I cannot say where we will ultimately be going, but I do know that today we board our planes to head for Rhodesia, where we will make final preparations for Operation Northern Rain, before making our drop. Though we may not know where we will be going, we know what task lies ahead of us, and we know how we will complete it. We have already done so hundreds of times before, this is just once more. Remember always, however that you are soldiers and ambassadors of Her Majesty, the Queen, and act accordingly. Good day, and God Save the Queen.”
Jump from an airplane while in flight”
It was still somewhat dark as dawn began to rise into view at Robertson Barracks, the Atrurian military facility, in the Province of Australia, that was now playing host to an entire division. Sergeant Thabo Nkosi ran at the head of his squad, leading them in their ritual of early morning PT. As all nine men under his command hurried behind the sergeant to keep up with his pace, he called out cadence, which his soldiers then duly repeated.
”Soldier, soldier, have you heard
I'm gonna jump from a big iron bird
Up in the morning in the drizzlin' rain
Packed my chute and boarded the plane”
Though these troops donned the standard boots and camouflaged pants of the regular army, their distinctive shirts were not the same as those of standard issue. As opposed to the white t-shirts with ‘Army’ inscribed in green, these men all wore black t-shirts, with the words ‘4 Para’ printed on to each and every one of them. This signified their elite status as paratroopers of the 4th Parachute Brigade. Each and every one of them was a trained, hardened, and more fearsome animal than any run-of-the-mill combat infantryman.
”C-130 rollin' down the strip
4th Paras on a one-way trip
Mission Top Secret, destination unknown
They don't know if they're coming home”
As they neared the Barracks’ command post, the cadence began to die down and the soldiers turned to a halt. Among the multitudes of soldiers of the brigade already assembled, the squad located, and fell in with, their battalion. By now, the sun had just barely risen and the desert terrain of the Australian outback was becoming fully visible.
“Another fuckin’ day of training,” Nkosi heard one of his troops utter.
As Nkosi’s battalion commander took his position, to address the men, another snickered “Hah, here comes old mate just to make sure we know what we’re doing. Not as though we’ve done the exact same thing for the past three months straight or anything.”
Nkosi turned back, glared at the trooper and smacked him, half-jokingly, warning him to quiet down.
As the battalion commander came to center, Nkosi noticed a strange excitement in his eyes. “Gentlemen,” the officer announced, “Today, Exercise Northern Rain comes to an end. In three days time, Operation Northern Rain commences. I cannot say where we will ultimately be going, but I do know that today we board our planes to head for Rhodesia, where we will make final preparations for Operation Northern Rain, before making our drop. Though we may not know where we will be going, we know what task lies ahead of us, and we know how we will complete it. We have already done so hundreds of times before, this is just once more. Remember always, however that you are soldiers and ambassadors of Her Majesty, the Queen, and act accordingly. Good day, and God Save the Queen.”