Mehtong-Phu
26-04-2009, 03:34
Chokonu Province, Mehtong-Phu.
The government soldiers trudged through the muddy jungle. Their cheap rubber boots felt like lead as the thick mud weighed them down. Each step threw globs of mud onto their cheap BDUs. Their FN FAL assault rifles were clogged with mud. They would need to suffer a miracle in order to fire. The men shared multiple conversations. Most of them of a 'less than professional nature'. None of them believed in their cause. Hell, if they weren't such cowards, most of them would have joined the rebels by now. The only true motivation of fighting for the corrpt, 'communist' government was the free food. Unlike their relatives, they got a bowl of rice and a full canteen of water every day, three times a day. Most of their relatives back home were severely malnourished. The so called 'Marxist' government barely could feed its people, much less protect them. Hell, Mehtong-Phu was hardly a dot on the map. After centuries of colonial opression, the people finally rebelled. At the time, Communism seemed logical. With communist nations holding the power in Asia and money flying at them from every direction from the communist powers, their route was chosen. Of course, nothing ever goes as planned. After their victory, their nation became just another dot on the map with a red flag. Just another statistic. The aid stopped, and the purges began. Their leader, Ghong Fend Chu, was a power hungry sociopath. He killed all who opposed him as the nation recovered from the long war. The people, soon realizing their mistake, simply began to work as gears in the broken red machine. After many years, enough words had been passed to warrant the creation of a resistance to this tyranny. They called themselves the MPFA. "The Mehtong-Phu Freedom Army." And they were lying in wait nearby.
The men sat perfectly still. Each of them was buried under piles of various jungle leaves, making them invisible in the thick brush. Their weapons were cocked, safties off, for the mechanical noise of either action in the soft hum of the jungle could ruin the ambush. The government troops drew closer. The rebels carried hodge-podges of different weapons. From Mosin Nagant bolt action sniper rifles to M-16s, they were armed to the teeth. The commies drew closer. They pushed eachother jokingly and smoked cheap cigarettes. None of them had their guns in their hands. The dirty, badly maintained weapons hung lazily at their backs. They rebels held their fire. They waited for Nyguyen Peng, their zealous and tenacous leader to open fire first. He aimed his FN FAL assault Rifle at the lead man. He wore two mud caked silver bars on his collar, signaling his status as an officer Nyguyen centered the sights on the man's center of mass and gently squezed the trigger. The bullet left the rifle with a deafening crack, sending a lead slud directly towards the mans abdomen. The bullet conected. A spray of blood shot from the man's chest as he fell to the ground. He cried out in pain. His comrades immeadiatly dropped and armed themselves, returning fire into the woods. Several of the Feds rifles refused to fire as they were cut down by the merciless rebel ambush. After about 45 seconds, only a hanful of feds remained. They dropped their guns and put their hands above their heads. They all looked very young. Most didn't look a day over 15, the captain that had fallen first looked about 19. They boys cried and shook out of fear and shock as the rebels advanced out of the brush. Their weapons were trained on the teenage boys as they yelled phrases like "Hands on your head!" and "Back away from the gun!" The boys complied. The rebels ran foward and patted them down. Some looted the bodies for food, weapons and ammunition. One man carried a huge stack of FN FALs while another carred a large yield of rations, known for their rancid quality.
Then Nyguyen approached. The boys shook even harder. He was the nuber one most wanted fugitive in the country. Killing him would lend a man a massive fortune. He was a skinny, short man. Not intimidating at any rate. But in battle, the man was a fierce beast. He looked at the boys. "You!" He yelled to the one furthest to the right. The boy glanced up and made eye contact with Nyguyen before quickey reorienting his gaze to the ground. "Are you a conscript?" The boy nodded lightly. He was in the first stage of shell shock, and he was begining to look dazed."Go home boy. Your mother must be missing you." The boy looked back up, he was not the brutal monster seen in government propoganda, but a merciful man, a fighter by circumstance, fighting for the salvation of a nation. He asked the same question to the remaining prisoners, letting each one go free, even if their answer was 'volunteer'. He then turned to his men. "Another victory my friends!" He yelled. The men cheered tenaciously.
Mehtong City.
The halls of the Che Fu complex were beutifully adorned. The Premier of the nation, Chiang Hen Woo sat at his desk. He watched yet another news report showing the brutal post-ambush images of young boys wearing uniforms dead in the mud. He called to his aide. "LONG FOO!!!!!! GET YOUR LAZY GOOD FOR NOTHING ASS IN MY OFFICE NOW!" The man burst in. "Y-yes sir?" The man studdered. "Long Foo, we are losing this war. We need help. Make this war public. Let the world know." The aide looked puzzled. "But sir, wouldn't they wan't to... arrest you.. I mean, the purge and alll..." The Premier's face became red with rage as he grabbed the 9mm Makarov off his desk and shot the man in the heart. "DO NOT QUESTION ME YOU SQUIRMING LITTLE SHIT!!!" Long Foo's blood began to puddle on the ornate hardwood floor of the office. "SOMEONE COME SCRAPE THIS PIECE OF CHICKEN DUNG OFF MY FLOOR!" He then called the state news. He gave them the same message he gave Long Foo, MAKE IT PUBLIC.
The government soldiers trudged through the muddy jungle. Their cheap rubber boots felt like lead as the thick mud weighed them down. Each step threw globs of mud onto their cheap BDUs. Their FN FAL assault rifles were clogged with mud. They would need to suffer a miracle in order to fire. The men shared multiple conversations. Most of them of a 'less than professional nature'. None of them believed in their cause. Hell, if they weren't such cowards, most of them would have joined the rebels by now. The only true motivation of fighting for the corrpt, 'communist' government was the free food. Unlike their relatives, they got a bowl of rice and a full canteen of water every day, three times a day. Most of their relatives back home were severely malnourished. The so called 'Marxist' government barely could feed its people, much less protect them. Hell, Mehtong-Phu was hardly a dot on the map. After centuries of colonial opression, the people finally rebelled. At the time, Communism seemed logical. With communist nations holding the power in Asia and money flying at them from every direction from the communist powers, their route was chosen. Of course, nothing ever goes as planned. After their victory, their nation became just another dot on the map with a red flag. Just another statistic. The aid stopped, and the purges began. Their leader, Ghong Fend Chu, was a power hungry sociopath. He killed all who opposed him as the nation recovered from the long war. The people, soon realizing their mistake, simply began to work as gears in the broken red machine. After many years, enough words had been passed to warrant the creation of a resistance to this tyranny. They called themselves the MPFA. "The Mehtong-Phu Freedom Army." And they were lying in wait nearby.
The men sat perfectly still. Each of them was buried under piles of various jungle leaves, making them invisible in the thick brush. Their weapons were cocked, safties off, for the mechanical noise of either action in the soft hum of the jungle could ruin the ambush. The government troops drew closer. The rebels carried hodge-podges of different weapons. From Mosin Nagant bolt action sniper rifles to M-16s, they were armed to the teeth. The commies drew closer. They pushed eachother jokingly and smoked cheap cigarettes. None of them had their guns in their hands. The dirty, badly maintained weapons hung lazily at their backs. They rebels held their fire. They waited for Nyguyen Peng, their zealous and tenacous leader to open fire first. He aimed his FN FAL assault Rifle at the lead man. He wore two mud caked silver bars on his collar, signaling his status as an officer Nyguyen centered the sights on the man's center of mass and gently squezed the trigger. The bullet left the rifle with a deafening crack, sending a lead slud directly towards the mans abdomen. The bullet conected. A spray of blood shot from the man's chest as he fell to the ground. He cried out in pain. His comrades immeadiatly dropped and armed themselves, returning fire into the woods. Several of the Feds rifles refused to fire as they were cut down by the merciless rebel ambush. After about 45 seconds, only a hanful of feds remained. They dropped their guns and put their hands above their heads. They all looked very young. Most didn't look a day over 15, the captain that had fallen first looked about 19. They boys cried and shook out of fear and shock as the rebels advanced out of the brush. Their weapons were trained on the teenage boys as they yelled phrases like "Hands on your head!" and "Back away from the gun!" The boys complied. The rebels ran foward and patted them down. Some looted the bodies for food, weapons and ammunition. One man carried a huge stack of FN FALs while another carred a large yield of rations, known for their rancid quality.
Then Nyguyen approached. The boys shook even harder. He was the nuber one most wanted fugitive in the country. Killing him would lend a man a massive fortune. He was a skinny, short man. Not intimidating at any rate. But in battle, the man was a fierce beast. He looked at the boys. "You!" He yelled to the one furthest to the right. The boy glanced up and made eye contact with Nyguyen before quickey reorienting his gaze to the ground. "Are you a conscript?" The boy nodded lightly. He was in the first stage of shell shock, and he was begining to look dazed."Go home boy. Your mother must be missing you." The boy looked back up, he was not the brutal monster seen in government propoganda, but a merciful man, a fighter by circumstance, fighting for the salvation of a nation. He asked the same question to the remaining prisoners, letting each one go free, even if their answer was 'volunteer'. He then turned to his men. "Another victory my friends!" He yelled. The men cheered tenaciously.
Mehtong City.
The halls of the Che Fu complex were beutifully adorned. The Premier of the nation, Chiang Hen Woo sat at his desk. He watched yet another news report showing the brutal post-ambush images of young boys wearing uniforms dead in the mud. He called to his aide. "LONG FOO!!!!!! GET YOUR LAZY GOOD FOR NOTHING ASS IN MY OFFICE NOW!" The man burst in. "Y-yes sir?" The man studdered. "Long Foo, we are losing this war. We need help. Make this war public. Let the world know." The aide looked puzzled. "But sir, wouldn't they wan't to... arrest you.. I mean, the purge and alll..." The Premier's face became red with rage as he grabbed the 9mm Makarov off his desk and shot the man in the heart. "DO NOT QUESTION ME YOU SQUIRMING LITTLE SHIT!!!" Long Foo's blood began to puddle on the ornate hardwood floor of the office. "SOMEONE COME SCRAPE THIS PIECE OF CHICKEN DUNG OFF MY FLOOR!" He then called the state news. He gave them the same message he gave Long Foo, MAKE IT PUBLIC.