NationStates Jolt Archive

Domadrum Benares

The airstrip was quiet; the aircraft were stored and one could only hear the chirping and hissing of tropical jungle animals and insects if they were patrolling the perimeter. Indeed, inside his office, Colonel Shackleton could hear only the slow protests of an outdated air-conditioning unit. Moonlight slipped through the window, and then the silence was shortly broken by the click of a zippo lighter and the minute roar of her well practiced flame. Seconds later smoke filled his office and he leant back, staring at the ceiling.

Domadrum Aerodrome was a small airbase, housing a number of light reconaissance and attack planes, an Airborne Company, and a battalion of Infantry. It was the typical fortress; anti-mortar radars, a venerable communications tower, and was unassailable by road as all resupply was done by air. Shackleton had been in the Army for thirty eight years, joining up at the age of eighteen as part of the full-time Corps, the Security Forces. In the peaceful atmosphere of his own office he touched pen to paper and before he started writing his ears observed the step of boots on tiled floor. "Come in," he said, before the boots even stopped.

The door opened and his uniformed aide appeared. "Sir, inbound aircraft. The Aequatians are here."

"Already?" Shackleton frowned. "I thought they weren't to arrive until tomorrow."

Both Shackleton and the Aide looked at the clock which had just ticked five past twelve. "Yes, well, as I'm sure you're aware Sir, Headquarters has very strict... ideas, on the concept of time."

Shackleton snorted. "Yes, quite," he stood up from his chair, stubbing out the cigarette. "I suppose we ought to go meet them, then."

Five minutes later the ageing Royal Air Force C-47 Dakota touched down on the tarmac, rolling across fairly bumpily and coming to a stop next to three parked helicopters whose crews ignored the landing and continued with their card-game. They would be relieved in a few hours; helicopters were on standby twenty four hours a day in case callouts were needed. Maybe a platoon of soldiers milled around the airstrip but it was generally silent.

As they descended from the ancient aircraft, Colonel Shackleton offered a hand to his Aequatian guests. "Welcome to the jungle," he said, grinning with confidence.

Although a lengthy flight from 2d Squadron's home garrison at Flanders Army Airfield in Carpanthium, the four-man team from the squadron's reconnaissance or "Romeo" Troop were still just as awake and energetic as normal, much thanks to the excessive mental and physical conditioning their normal training involved. The team's leader, Major Herman Trapp and a former "Para" from one of the airborne commandos, sat quietly as the aircraft approached the Questarian airfield reading one of the trashy erotic novels purchased at in a small shop while waiting at the airport in Millingston. Two other members of the team sat across the cabin and chatted casually, "Did you read that article last month in The Republik about the Questarian 'troopie' and the state of mind here?" Asked Staff Sergeant Ralph Anderson, a former Army Special Forces Weapons Specialist.

His comrade chuckled, "Yeah, I did," He said, resting his arm against his knee with flask in hand, "All of those boys think they're fucking nails, as though no one has ever had it as hard as they have," Stated Sergeant Andrew Foster, another former "Para" from the Special Combat Applications Regiment.

"Wouldn't surprise me if we landed and they had Paint it Black or anything by the Doors blaring," Replied Anderson laughing as shifted in his seat, "They don't seem to take this business at all seriously, but I wouldn't mind seeing how they are out in the jungle."

"This isn't jungle, my friend," Said Sergeant Ramiro Burzak, a native Jadan originally from the Marine Corps' 15th Regiment, "This is a greenhouse compared to what they have back home."

"Maybe so, but we'll see for ourselves, bootneck," Shot back Foster as the aircraft started descending for its landing on the rough airstrip. The four Aequatians picked up their large rucksacks, duffel bags and personal weapons as the aircraft taxied to a halt and the door opened, Major Trapp the first at the door as they were greeted by the Questarian Colonel Shackleton, the latter's greeting was responded to silent smiles from the two sergeants as they handed off their kit and jumped down.

"Thank you for having us," Responded Trapp as he hefted his ruck onto both shoulders and held on to his CSR-1A1 rifle by the carrying handle, originally from a G9 rifle, jury-rigged to the weapon's receiver, "How about a spot to place our kit before we begin?"