CUP OF HARMONY 83 – QUARTER-FINALSEura 3–1 Darmen
Scorers:Bowman 3, Malone 30, Atkinson 53
Lineup:1. E Palmer
4. J Menard
15. K Sherwood
5. T Green
24. J Gates
8. V Robshaw (sub Vincent 78)
11. B Malone (sub James 60)
7. M Woakes
18. D Bowman
10. C Atkinson
9. S Robson (sub Sharp 65)
‘…in addition to its latest call for calm in Pasarga, a Euran government spokesperson claimed today that the shock forced abdication of Cassie II of Cassadaigua, and the pending court martial of a senior military officer, was a “tacit admission of guilt” on the part of the Dagan state to ethnic cleansing in the disputed Cooper River region. In brief remarks to the press in the absence of the Foreign Secretary who is abroad until tomorrow, Minister for Rushmore Tyra Addleton spoke to our programme just before we came on the air. Here is what she had to say…’
‘Yes, of course we are going to be speaking to the Dagans as soon as possible about what this means for their country, for their relations with us and others and so on. I believe the Foreign Secretary is very keen to hold discussions Cassie III and Brianna in person at some point soon. But really the core issue here is the Cooper River region. Judging by the rhetoric coming out of Concord Heights, you would think Gastineau was an unhappy little mistake and everyone between the Cooper River and Cassadaigua’s border is having a wonderful time.’
‘Does that mean no change in Eura’s position, minister?’
‘Until there is a change in Dagan policy, no. Like I said, we are not reassured by the tone of the new leadership in their public comments so far. There is a fundamental issue of the Cooper River invasion being an illegitimate act of settler colonialism enforced by a monarchy-regime without any kind of democratic mandate.’
‘But you’re open to discussions surely?’
‘Always. But those discussions are not going to have a productive outcome without a Dagan withdrawal from the Cooper River region. Until that moment comes, we will continue working up our options, and I can tell you now that we are very close to finishing a draft of our first package of sanctions to penalise their actions. I hope they will change course.’
‘This is an opportunity, I’m telling you!’ Alain was exacerbated by the caution – no,
cowardice – of some of the River Republic’s motley crew it called a “leadership council”.
‘We are not ready Alain. What if something goes wrong? We’ve only been training our followers for militant actions for a matter of days. We should be waiting before throwing ourselves into a fight.’
‘I’m not talking about starting a full-blown insurgency before we are ready, I just want us to send a message – that the armed struggle is nigh and the criminal regime of Cassadaigua will feel the pain if they choose to ignore us!’ Alain seemed to have most of the room on side, but he could tell there were doubters among him from the nervous glances they were giving one another.
‘What do our Euran friends think’ asked one with their arms crossed, unimpressed, ‘or are they too busy telling farm boys how to shoot to grace our presence?’
‘They agree with me’ Alain claimed, ‘and they can get us what we need for this operation alongside what is already being sent. Stop referring to them by their nationality anyway. What did I tell you? They have told us not to discuss it.’ The council member rolled their eyes in response, but didn’t object verbally, suggesting they were no longer going to argue the point.
‘Just trust me’ continued Alain, ‘this is the best course of action now that the Dagans have moved to remove Cassie the Warmonger. Putting her daughter on the throne, with the usurper Brianna pawned off here to rule us like a little fiefdom? We must act decisively and early in order to make it clear that simply swapping one butchering monarch for another will not make us rest. No. We will do the opposite! We will carry out a symbolic strike to make a statement, showing the occupiers their authority will be resisted by the people here, and that Cooperites should rule their region, not a puppet of Concord Heights! It will sow panic and discord in their ranks, and they will wonder what we might do next. And if the weapons keep coming, and we can get hundreds,
thousands trained up…then the cause will be given fresh heat. Let us do this for those on the other side of the river if nothing else – they can’t afford to wait like we can in our refuge, the Dagans occupy them now and people are dying now. Let’s show them we are no
pirates! The Dagans are going to be fighting liberators!’
Camp Courier was now operating at a decent flow, though it would be a little while yet before it would be fully operational. Each day, a dozen refitted Sameban helicopters with no identifying markings were flying lengthy flights to Flea Town and other settlements on the edge of the Cooper River region. They would drop off a continuous supply of small arms weapons such as handguns, semi-automatic rifles, sub-machine guns, basic sniper rifles, small numbers of heavier machine guns and light explosives, and even a few light anti-tank launchers (the Eurans had hinted they would deliver anti-air and heavier anti-tank kit once the supply chain was more established, but none had arrived just yet). Each helicopter would leave behind a Phalanx mercenary to train the so-called River Republic’s “recruits”; flights that came afterwards would then rotate out the trainers and replace them with a new batch. Phalanx were dealing largely with volunteers with zero military experience, untrained civilians taking up arms.
Vive la revolution, indeed.
This kept up the pace of progress, but it would be some time before these people would be able to fight as a cohesive insurgency, if they managed it at all.
There were also setbacks, some expected and some more surprising; a few accidents in training (one of them fatal for a local), donated equipment going missing, and locals ruining kit when moving it across the river without due care.
Most of all, it was clear that the River Republic was still just a loose group lead by Alain Poitou which was still working out its structure and recruiting people in enough numbers to make them a large scale resistance.
However, on a small scale, it took only days to start forming some bonds.
Kane had flown out there himself and was now being introduced to a team of six young River Republic volunteers. All were aged somewhere between their mid-to-late teens and late twenties. Two had been farmers, one a baker, another a scavenger, the fifth had been a roaming wanderer and the final volunteer, a furious looking man of just 22, was himself a Dagan citizen who had happened across the group while doing charity work in Flea Town. According to Alain, these guys were the best in training that same day.
And tomorrow they would be doing something special.
The
Sameban HU-3 “Puppy” was a venerable aircraft among Samebans and Eurans alike. Based on an old license-free design and copied by many nations in some form, the Sameban variant was a common feature of the penultimate war between the two countries over half a century ago. By the time of the last and greatest conflagration, it had taken on a reduced role, but thousands remained in service with the Sameban Republican Army in a variety of roles. A significant number had survived the conflict and were now doing their bidding for a private Euran company on the other side of the region, as if their original place of manufacture and service were but a strange dream. That’s how Phalanx Company helicopter pilot Charlie thought of it, which was
weird.
‘Charlie buddy, you’ve got to stop talking about these things like they’re alive. Your chopper doesn’t dream mate.’ Charlie’s co-pilot, Stagger, was making that very point to him as they were flying one.
‘
Sssh, don’t listen to him Pup, he’s nothing but a fool.’ Charlie tapped the dashboard in the cockpit affectionately, and in doing so noticed their altitude had drifted a little too high. He dipped the nose and they dropped back into the canyon in front of them.
Only a few days into the Company’s operations in the region, Kane had noticed on a flight in to Flea Town that his pilots were prioritising speed over stealth, passing over all kinds of terrain at a fair clip with little concern for being spotted on radar. Kane couldn’t be sure, but he suspected the Dagans would have spotted a few of their flights by now. To address the problem, he ordered all of his pilots to fly slower, but stealthier, hugging the ground at low altitude, below the height at which radar would be able to detect them.
This was no problem for Charlie who loved ducking and dodging through valleys and skipping across wide open fields just a few feet off the ground. It gave him his fix of excitement and kept him on his toes. Stagger was less keen.
‘Fuck mate, watch the treeline!’
Charlie abruptly pulled up to avoid a forest, levelling out barely about the tips of the trees.
‘Five miles to target’ Stagger added, ‘you might want to slow down.’
‘And make ourselves an easy spot for prying Dagan eyes? No way man. We’re doing this my way.’
Stagger thought about objecting but realised it to be futile and kept his mouth shut, instead trying to keep focused on his instruments as Charlie loudly sang (out of tune)
an old song he had playing on the radio. Suddenly, a puff of orange smoke appeared on a barren hilltop directly in front of them. ‘There! That’s the clearing. The
rebs must be down there. Bring us in carefully!’
Charlie went for a mix of safety and style. He slowed down responsibly and kept the bird level on descent, but added a flourish by dropping suddenly in the last few seconds and bringing them to a hover a foot above the hilltop.
‘Arsehole!’
‘Ah, you love me really.’
A group of six “Cooperites” appeared at the side of the helicopter. Stagger left his seat and slid the door open, and started handing them duffel bags full of equipment…and one long, slightly heavier steel container.
Private Kelly Monroe couldn’t believe what she had just seen.
‘I can’t have been the only one that saw that!’
Unfortunately, no-one else in her troop believed her. She could swear she had seen a small helicopter zip down the bottom of the valley they were entering, somehow not crashing into a tree every few seconds at a gasp-inducing low altitude, but no-one else had been paying attention. They were too busy focusing on the map. ‘And so should you be!’ Sergeant Warner told her, warning Private Monroe that she wasn’t doing her job properly. ‘We need to make sure we’re going to the right village, not hallucinating these people magicking up helicopters from nowhere. They don’t even have supermarkets, what makes you think they’ve mastered flight?’
‘But-‘
‘Private, get over here, that’s an order!’
Monroe reluctantly followed her orders and joined the others in trying to work out the rest of their route.
The squad were members of the army of Cassadaigua, participating in the planned annexation of the Cooper River region. They had seen very little action out here – one local farmer took some pot-shots with a shotgun, then surrendered the moment he was challenged by their machine gun-equipped offroad vehicles. But that was it so far.
However, from what they had heard, that wasn’t the case everywhere. Gastineau included, this area – the strip of the region running parallel to the river and the north and western, mostly French-speaking parts far away from the original border with Cassadaigua – was supposedly proving much harder to occupy. Settlements were more tucked away, the locals more hostile to Dagan rule, and they were much more likely to be armed. They were regularly yelled at passing through villages and locals threw rocks at their vehicles. Their commanders had also told the Dagan troops to be on the lookout for pirates and gangs, but it seemed like even the civilian population was worryingly hostile.
Sergeant Warner was unfussed by all of this. Their squad was a light recon unit after all, ten women and men mounted on two
armour-free, open top offroad cars, who were tasked with rapidly moving between different settlements in this remote area and monitoring them for any suspicious activity. They were not here to hang around and make friends.
Investigate, interrogate, exfiltrate; that was the motto Warner put in her troops heads every day. And, after all, the people of this region were not exactly civilised, Warner argued.
If anyone takes a pop at us, we’ll deal with them very easily. Nothing to worry about!Private Monroe wasn’t so sure. They had been ok so far, but it would only take one bit of bad luck to put them all in danger. Like all of them Monroe was a professional soldier and had no concern about using force if needed, but she had been told not to expect it to be necessary before coming here, and some of the friendlier reactions of locals nearer to the border with Cassadaigua had fuelled that mistaken belief - that even the most far-flung parts of the Cooper River would welcome Dagan troops with open arms. This had all been on her mind nearly constantly for several days, but she tried not to think about it as they continued along the road to their next destination. She was sat in the back of the lead vehicle, behind the Sergeant and another squad member sat in front.
‘Village coming up. What’s this one, Corporal Perry?’
‘Uhhh, D40. I think. Might be D42.’
‘Come on, really? Are we going to have to turn around again-‘
Private Monroe suddenly felt a warm splash of liquid on her face. She didn’t react at first, instead curiously holding her right hand up to touch her cheek. She pulled her hand away and saw it was smeared with red. She blinked a few times to check it wasn’t just blurred vision or tiredness. She wasn’t imagining it.
Then she looked up and realised that Sergeant Warner was slumped over the driver’s wheel with a big exit wound on the back of her neck.
Private Monroe’s instincts and training finally kicked in. She dismounted off the side of the vehicle in a clumsy roll – usually dismounting was not the right thing to do, but these vehicles were not well protected enough to make standing still a good option – and found herself dropping into a ditch at the side of the track.
Only now did it become clear that her squad had been ambushed. Perry was down too now, though clearly alive from the loud yelling of expletives as she crawled into the ditch alongside Monroe. The other two in the back seat with Monroe had dismounted and were now firing into a line of bushes off to the right, and within a few seconds the entire squad were doing exactly the same.
Eventually, the gunfire stopped.
‘What the heck was that?’ Monroe gasped. Perry said nothing. ‘Suzie?’ She was trying to grab the Corporal’s attention, but her shock at what had happened had not passed, and Monroe quickly realised she was very pale…and had a bullet wound in her shoulder. ‘Ok Suzie, just-‘
There they were. A lone individual, holding an old rifle of some kind, stepping out into the dirt track right in front of them. Without hesitation, Monroe raised her gun and shot them twice in the chest. They fell immediately and without a sound. ‘Hey, guys! I scratched one down the road!’
‘Nice job!’ The rest of the squad was in the ditch on the opposite side of the road. She had no idea who had yelled back. Just as it seemed the danger had passed, a shrieking, whistling projectile flew barely two feet above her head and impacted the second vehicle, blowing it apart and throwing shrapnel everywhere. Monroe was thankfully unhit yet again, but Perry had taken some shrapnel, and now she wasn’t moving either. The gunfire returned.
An hour of terror followed; the troops stuck in an awful, exposed position just outside the village. The villagers seemed to have fled bar a handful who were standing and watching from their houses as if it were a live show.
By the time help arrived in the form of a backup patrol and a medical evacuation, Warner and Perry were confirmed KIA. Three wounded. Two locals dead, both armed, but with no clear motive or identification. It was an effective ambush, but chaotic, with the one Monroe shot having exposed themselves foolishly in a way one of the trained Dagans never would have. Others in the squad reckoned as many as four others had been firing at them and had gotten away, “getting lucky” one soldier remarked. None of them could account for what had blown up the second vehicle. A tutting Captain leading the unit that had come to help them said it was “probably just black market gear they took’, because after all, ‘they’re all thieves around here.’
Private Monroe did not believe that for a second. This was more than gangsters and crooks. And if anyone was lucky to be alive, it was Monroe and her squad, not the vanished local fighters whom she couldn’t even see.
www.rushleak.com
New video posted 1 minute ago:
ANNOUNCEMENT – RIVER REPUBLIC STANDS TALL!‘Greetings, Rushmore and the wider world!’ said the man in front of the camera, wearing a balaclava. Several others stood behind him with an assortment of weapons, mostly vintage rifles and agricultural weapons like shotguns and 22. Rifles. But in the mix were a couple of old Sameban standard issue rifles, and what was possibly a Euran manufactured, export licensed (not Euran standard issue) machine gun. The picture was grainy.
And deniable thought the Ticker, as he watched the video unfold on his laptop.
‘You may be asking yourself; who are you? What is this? I…I am everyone. Everyone in the lands without a name, but which the news channels in your country probably call Cooper River, or some variation on that term. As an individual you may never learn my name. So, just know, that I and my comrades here represent the will of the repressed native peoples of these lands. People who have been crushed by the jackboot of Cassadaigua, the criminal Queendoom, in an unprovoked act of colonial barbarism!’ The others holstered their weapons and stood at attention beside the man in the balaclava.
‘Let it be known from this day forward, that the River Republic – our organisation – has commenced a revolutionary struggle against the brutal conquest of what the international community calls the Cooper River region, and the ongoing illegal presence of Dagan looters and butchers. We remember Gastineau, and all the other little skirmishes you don’t hear about, and the mass deportations. We
remember! We will never forget. Nor will we forgive. We call on all free people in our lands, and anyone from beyond who wishes to support the cause of freedom, to join us!’
‘And to prove our commitment to the cause, I bring news of our first successful military operation. This evening, just before dusk, our heroic warriors assaulted an occupier patrol outside the village of Saint-Henri, keeping them out of a free settlement that rejects Dagan rule! Half a dozen occupiers were struck down, and at least two of them will not be getting up again. We also destroyed an occupiers vehicle, its blood-soaked tyres unable to sully our precious soil any longer. Sadly, two of our brave soldiers were lost in this assault, but this is the kind of sacrifice we are willing to make for our cause. They died for a cause! Remember that, and remember us, because our campaign will not end until the forces of Cassadaigua return to their pre-invasion borders. Cassie the Third, Brianna – make no mistake. We do not want you and your pawns here. If you care for your boys, you will bring them home to their families, before we send them home in coffins! Death to the invaders! Long live the River Republic!’ The video ended abruptly on that note.
The Ticker closed his laptop. One of his closest confidants was sat behind him, watching along too.
‘He’s an interesting fellow. Alain, did you say his name was?’
‘Alain Poitou.’
‘
Hmm. You really think he can free his homeland?’
‘No’ the Ticker responded with shocking indifference, ‘but I don’t need him to.’