October 2nd, 2021The Ceylonese Bush War
Et Tu, SADF?
Victoria Dam, Hurricane District, Republic of CeylonAs the five trucks, uparmored Unimogs, drove down the winding forest road, there was an eerie silence to the men inside of them. Usually, you could hear the SADF coming from a mile away, loud music blasting as the rotors of helicopters kicked up enough dust to make a smokescreen for the dismounting soldiers. However, this time, there were no helicopters nor radios, and there were no SAR M76s or TRR-A1s to be seen. At the front rode a native Ceylonese, a "Tame Terr" as the men inside the trucks may refer to him. He wore a Red Beret and an OD Green uniform, standard for a National Front officer. In the trucks behind rode men in Balaclavas, AK-74s in hand. Under the Balaclavas, they wore blackface, hiding their identity. The unit, part of the SADF Scouts, flew a National Front flag in each car, the Red and Yellow standing out among the green terrain.
As the dam got closer, a security checkpoint came into view. The dam was surprisingly well-defended, with barbed wire criss-crossing the areas next to the road, and watch towers littered throughout the area. Soon enough, the men reached the checkpoint, where an officer, flanked by 10 armed guards, approached them.
"Navatvanna! Oba han̆dunā ganna!" (Stop! Identify Yourselves!)
The Ceylonese man in the front truck stepped forward.
"Api sī baḷakāya, janapadikayinṭa pahara dīma san̆dahā api mema sākkuvē dakuṇu māyima desaṭa gaman karamin siṭina atara, etænaṭa yāmaṭa mema vēlla taraṇaya kaḷa yutuya." (We are C Squad, we are travelling towards the southern edge of this pocket for an assault on the colonizers, and need to cross this dam to get there.)
"Obē samāgamē murapadaya kumakda?" (What is your company's passphrase?)
"Piṭupasa ekak idiripasa dekaṭa samāna vē!" (One in the back is equal to two in the front!)
"Obaṭa ætuḷu viya hæki atara, janapadikayinṭa pahara dīmaṭa oba gat utsāhaya api agaya karannemu" (You may enter, and we appreciate your efforts to attack the colonizers)
The road towards the dam wound through the surrounding forests, and was lined by formerly well-trimmed bushes, now overgrown. It offered a good view of the dam, which was littered with barricades. Watchtowers stood on both sides of the dam, while trucks moved back and forth throughout the dam. The trucks moved along the road towards the center of the dam, and parked on the dam's overlook. As the trucks parked, the men in each truck chambered a round in their AK-74s, flipping the fire selectors to semi-auto
A thumbs up signal came from the lead truck, and almost as fast as the signal came down, the men sighted their AKs and aimed them over the top of the trucks. A spew of automatic fire came from the trucks, heading in all directions and sending the insurgents into a frenzy. Insurgents scrambled to take cover behind barricades as the Scouts began to lay down suppressing fire. Some of the dying insurgents prayed, cried for their mother, or both.
As if answering the prayers, a streak of light came down from the sky, landing square on the lead truck, containing the Ceylonese "Commander" and 4 other Scouts. The thermobaric round turned the truck into a fireball, killing all inside instantly. On the upside, their death happened so quick it was painless. On the downside, 5 Scouts had been lost, and the truck had been thrown into the reservoir by the explosion.
"SHIT! WHO THE FUCK GAVE THESE GUYS THERMOBARIC ROUNDS!"
After a brief pause out of the sheer surprise of a hit by a thermobaric weapon, the men kept laying down fire, as insurgents attempted to blindfire back. A Kenyan-looking stepped out of cover, and began returning fire at the men, hitting 2 of the soldiers, one in the torso, the other in the leg, as he continued firing at the soldiers. The rounds, despite being fired automatically and in a spraying fashion, were oddly precise, hitting another soldier in the arm as men took cover. The Scouts attempted to return fire, hitting the man in the foot, but he still continued fighting.
The man moved from cover to cover, dodging rounds of 5.45x39mm as he continued firing back at the Scouts. Most of the rounds flew over the soldiers' heads, as they had managed to find decent cover, but it still managed to suppress them, as rounds embedded themselves into the uparmored Unimogs. A spray of automatic fire erupted from one of the soldiers, who had, in the frenzy, managed to position himself with a shot on the man, hitting him in the right leg 3 times, and the left leg twice. The man fell to the ground, unable to walk, but he kept fighting. Dragging himself to the wall of the dam, and propping himself up against it, he continued firing, hitting a Scout in the right arm after a round ricocheted off one of the trucks' armor. Two more rounds to the torso finally finished the man off, and the Scouts redirected their fire to the remaining insurgents, whose attempts at catching the Scouts off guard while the Kenyan fought them had failed miserably.
With the final insurgents cleared out, the Scouts approached the now dead Kenyan. At his side sat his AK-74, it's magazine pulled out and empty, with his hand resting on another magazine contained in a tactical vest.
"Anything identifying on him?"
"No, sir, but he's clearly foreign, and has military training. We're some lucky bastards, caught the fucker while he was reloading."
"Kid, we're the Scouts. We've always been lucky bastards. Though you can't help but notice a chunk of it is skill."
"What do you mean? We lost 5 guys and have 4 more wounded."
"Yeah, and look around you. There were 25 of us going into this, against 225 of them. I would say you need some skill for that."
"I guess so. Fucks sake, though, why did they have thermobarics?"
"That's for the suits to figure out, son. Now toss me that spray can, would ya?"
The sergeant caught the can mid-air, and shook it before pointing the nozzle at the wall next to the lifeless man. As he pressed down, the can left a trail of green along the wall next to the man.
Hello World!The Ceylonese Bush War
The Greatest Negotiator
Intersection of A9 and 2nd Cross Street, Jaffna, Republic of CeylonAs the protesters moved down the street, the Jaffna Police were forced to give up ground to avoid a violent confrontation. They had no riot shields, no guns, not even so much as a pistol. All they had were their batons, and that was not enough. Fires were lit as the protesters marched forward, waving the flag of the National Front. Loud chants and singing could be heard, covering up the sounds of beatings and molotovs.
Śrī laṁkā mātā, apa Śrī laṁkā
Namō namō namō namō mātā
Sundara siribarinī
Suræn̆di ati sōbamāna laṁkā
Dhānya dhanaya neka
Mal palaturu piri jaya bhumiya ramyā
Apa haṭa sæpa siri seta sadanā
Jīvanayē mātā
Piḷiganu mæna apa bhaktī pūjā
Namō namō mātā, apa Śrī laṁkā
Namō namō namō namō mātāAs the protesters advanced dangerously close to the Municipal Council building, the police finally held their ground. They held their batons at the ready, preparing for a potential confrontation. Their light blue uniforms and helmets stood out like a sore thumb in the city, and put a target on them. Soon enough, the protesters reached them, still chanting and holding up signs. A police officer with a loudspeaker stepped up towards the crowd.
"Niṟuttu! Neruṅkavēṇṭām!" (Halt! Do not come any closer!"
The crowd continued their advance, as the chanting continued.
"Nāṉ mīṇṭum colkiṟēṉ, niṟuttu! Neruṅkavēṇṭām!" (I repeat, Halt! Do not come any closer!)
The warnings only riled up the crowd more, and the tension only got worse.
"Niṟuttu! Neruṅkavēṇṭām! Itu uṅkaḷ iṟuti eccarikkai!" (Halt! Do not come any closer! This is your final warning!)
The protesters came at the police even faster, most of them with violent intentions. The police fired a tear gas canister in the crowd in an attempt to disperse them.
A man wearing a red bandana over his mouth and leather gloves picked up the canister, throwing it back towards the police. The police, who had no gas masks, were forced to disperse. The protesters charged forward, yelling at the police. As the police frantically retreated, a group of 50 men, clad in green uniforms and non-camouflaged EBRAC-P helmets with gas masks attached, advanced towards the crowd. As the police ran past them, regrouping at the intersection of 1st Cross Street and Beach Road, the 50 men marched forward, shotguns in hand. On their right shoulder was a patch, identifying them.
CEYLONESE SOUTH AMERICANASTANIAN POLICETo Preserve Liberty is to Preserve Order One of the men shot his shotgun into the air, the blank round acting as a warning shot.
"DISPERSE!"
The protesters refused the orders, and continued advancing down the A9, shouting at the men. Some of the few who knew English yelled any kind of slur-sounding words they could think of.
"FUCK OFF, SOUTHIES!"
The men cocked their shotguns, aiming them at the front of the crowd. People watched from their windows as the chaos unfolded, and some of the protesters lit Molotov Cocktails.
But they wouldn't get to use them.
BANG!The men fired into the crowd, the birdshot loads of their shotguns peppering their targets, causing them to collapse in pain.
"I SAID, DISPERSE!"
The remaining protesters fled away from the CSAP officers, as the ones who stayed, whether due to pain from the peppering or general defiance, were arrested. A video of the protest began to circulate, and the term "Southies" became a nearly universal slur for South Americanastanians in Ceylon.