Our men are leaving

For some reason i do not know, the local "rebel" army has started disappearing. Yesterday, we had about 200 men, today, I doubt there are even 100. There has been talk about witchcraft, mostly because veejay is in some kind of delirium, and foams every now and then at the mouth.

And the nearbye river is covered in small insects and death-flowers. Those small flowers the grow on rotting meat. It is because of the corpses that were dumped there.

Yesterday, one of the locals shot one of our men, maybe by accident, maybe in anger. I was not there, I just heard a shot.

He was taken out of the camp, and I think they executed him. The shot fellow, his name was patrick, was on the floor screaming, and rolling from left to right. The whole situation is a bit sick.

It is this damn forest. It is so wet and drippy and slimy. In the nights, the sound of crickets is overpowering. And the frogs honk and honk, and then go off for a while. a few minutes later, they restart.

The forest does not want us in its belly. It is trying to vomit us out.

I've not heard any word from the other team - and they are the ones that are supposed to direct us to where we are to go to. My communications are working fine, my radios are working, my satellite links are okay. But no signal, nothing.

People are getting bored and loud here. The SA men are playing cards and gambling.


A dead man in my hands

Blood on my shirt, and fear in the air. I saw a boy yesterday under a tree, still alive, but had been there for days. He must have been shot 3 or four times. His eyes were swollen, and when someone opened them, he seemed to have only pupils, and no eye white.

He died as he was carried away to be treated. Or maybe not to be treated, maybe to be buried. Or to be shot. He was not a human being anyways, he was just a rebel. A rebel is evil.

Veejays face is pasty white, like dead bread. Unbaked dough, with small black spots on it. Maybe it is not the malaria that is eating and enjoying his heart, maybe it is another evil that sings to us from this horrible forest we sit in. Maybe is it ghost? The men ran from the river, because a worm stuck himself in somebodys fist. His battle fist, the fist he want to save the world with. And the worm consume the fist, and now it is swollen, and his finger cannot enter the trigger hole any longer.

Maybe he will die, but we do not care.

There are too many trees here. they are not green and happy tree, they are not tree that we pay money to save, this are brown and dirty tree. The body of the tree is covered in small parasite plant with dirty brown leaves, the tree is sick and dying because of too many parasite.

We are parasite in this country, and we will suck all the life, put it in our bullet chamber and carry it out with us. The soul of this country will be changed for the soul of the bullet.

The people are weak, and we are weak, but we are a little stronger than them. So we shall beat them till they call us 'uncle'.


First attack, and more info on my mission

Sorry that I cannot write in my usual poetic style, but I do not have enough time for that. Maybe later, when I have some space to breath.

Okay, so I've found out a bit more about why we are here. I don't know the details, but it has something to do with destabilization, which is somehow or the other related to oil. I have a guess as to what we are doing, but I do not want to speculate prematurely.

Anyways, so we landed on some tiny air strip some 7 days ago. This is in a country where the national airports have subsized runways, and this strip we landed on was not even in use. It was tiny. The pilot jammed his brakes like he was jam master j, and some fellow chipped a tooth on the seat of his neighbour.

The plane stopped okay, and we went out and started offloading. About 30 minutes later, about 7 GM pickups arrived. These are those extremely wide american trucks, with pickup backs, and space for about 10 people in the front. We offloaded large machine guns into the pickups, as well as some smaller combat gear. It was mostly anti-personal weapons, no anti-aircraft, and not even mortars.

Okay, so some south african comes up, and his is apparently our major. He separates the group according to race, and the black and coloreds are to take the trucks inwards into some town. The whites jump in one of the trucks (empty, and blue instead of black like the others), and leave. Some half-indian guy is placed in charge of our group, and I am made his leftenant. The titles don't really matter anyways, everyone does their job out here.

Anyways, we start off driving. Everyone has to drive in shifts, and we are not so many. So I'm driving this heavily loaded pickup through village streets, offroad and all for hundreds of kilometers.

About 200 km before we reach our destination, the truck out in the front came on some police checkpoint. Someone had a machine gun or something, on any case, those police men were shot. As I drove past, it seems to me that they had been shot to shreds. Apart from that, we didn't meet anymore police.

What was interesting is that often, a car would appear on the other end of the road kilometers away, would see our convoy, and then stop. It would sit there like a frightened animal, and as soon as we were near enough for them to see the machine gun mounted on the back of the truck, they would scurry off, and disappear into the next side road (which was sometimes kilometers down). In one case, a bus full of natives stopped by the side of the road, and the entire bus ran off into the bush. That was funny at the time.

So after about 3 days of driving, we arrived in some city that apparently had been taken over by either our people or our allies. The town was a normal town, but the huts and houses were armed caches. A bit scary, the amount of ammunition in this town was. Anyways, we stayed there for a while, and rested.

Then we drove out into the capital, with a number of our allies. We directed the attack, and our orders were not to win, but to frighten. The battle went well, but some african idiots had to jump around like monkeys and get captured. Let me tell you how to shoot: POINT, AIM, SHOOT. Do not SHOOT, POINT IN GENERAL DIRECTION, and forget all about the AIM.

I got a bullet lodged in my helmet.

I'm going to contact the other team and see what we are to do next. Our leader, Mr. VeeJay, seems to have Malaria.


I've just driven 900 kilometers

And I'm as tired as hell. Thin roads, green grass, more green grass, and yet more green grass.


Leaving South Africa

I've been told the destination where we are going to go to. It is an African country, and though I know exactly what we are going to do, I cannot mention it at this time. It is a bit of a secret mission, but I will tell you when the time is right.

In any case, we are now in a comfortable charter plane, and are high-high in the sky, cruising towards our possible deaths. I'm feeling very good, frankly :)

I'm not yet feeling fear, but maybe that will come later. The early morning clouds are drifting by, and this cabin is darned cold.

The fellow beside me (currently asleep), has my same name "John", but they call him Bushman for some reason. His face is a bit droopy on one side, he told me that it is because of some operation gone wrong that paralysed his face. The nerves are rebuilding though, and in a bout a year, it will be fixed.

Did you know that from this altitude, you can pick up the signals of near to 100 satellites? And that you can pick up flashes of ground walky talky conversations?

Well, I'll keep y'all posted, and if I get the opportunity, will post a diary when we land and arrive safely.

Now, back to watching my green mile DVD, I love that film. There is so much pathos in that film. I identify with that big black man.


Whoah, we are moving today

I got a call about 30 minutes ago from Jack, and he said that I had not only be accepted, but that I would have to fly this night out to the Free State province, and that I'd meet the rest of the crew there.

I'm currently in a twelvy flyer, and my satellite reception, though flickering every once in a while seems to be okay. I'm posting this from up in the clouds.

From what I've been told, we are going to ship tommorow, and the men have actually been pending for two weeks or so, and have been waiting for some guy.

Not me, I'm not so important. They were waiting for some sort of science fellow, something to do with poisons or chemicals or something. Jack just mentioned it in passing, and this is the sort of thing sometimes we never find out, even after the mission os complete.

So actually I'm quite lucky to have gotten on this team, and hearing that they are not going to do anything particularly dangerous, and nothing undercover, that is good. I hate undercover, because I'm usually the guy selected to blend in with the local men.

So what do I have on this trip?

Well, my old equipment mostly:

1. My army grade laptop (I bought the same model again after burying the last one in the desert). It has an integrated satellite receiver and transmitter, and has about 10 different satellites it can choose from, mostly in Europe, but also a few Americans.
2. A small flat transmitter. A 1 cm cube, with boards printed with transparent chrystals. It is difficult to find out what it does without training in espionage electronics. It can be wrapped in many things
3. A PDA. Yes, I finally succumbed to the passion and bought one. Also added a GPS receiver and a map software.
4. Radio flares. These radios can pulse signals for 24 hours. Either to satellites or regional
5. A mobile gsm/satellite phone. The most useful equipment ever.

So I'm travelling light this time. They did not request me to bring anything else, so I didn't.

I'll meet up with the fellows in about 2 hours, and in 10 to 15 hours we should be on a plane moving towards our destination.


I'm finally employed again

Like I've been talking about, I've not been doing aynthing useful for the last few months. After Iraq, and a lot of middle-east hopping, I settled down, and tried out a number of jobs. But I don't really have much of an interest in normal jobs. So I've been looking around for a job in the field again.

I scouted around, and someone must have mentioned my name somewhere, because this fellow called "Jack" called me up. He said that he knew I was good with computers, and that I had access to a lot of underground information channels (from my time in the U.N, as well as contacts to the russian hacker underground). There is a mercernary information channel I am part of, but they also have access to that. That is one of my assets.

Also, they know I play with high-tech toys, and that I have good contacts in hong-kong and malaysia that can be covered up over my fathers companies, as well as Jasmines business in Lebanon.

He has only given me a rough sketch of what we are going to do, but it has something to do in an African country. I do not think it has anything to do with equitorial guinea like those other mercenaries who got captured. They won't tell me yet.

Anyways, so he called me up to capetown yesterday, and I drove up down there. He had a nice house up on waterfront, quite large, and he called me in. He was a large sort of fellow, quite soft, so I he must be some type of recruiter or something, he does not look like he does field work.

He explained the details to me, and offered me 400 000 rand for a couple of months of activity, nd prhaps a bit more later if I conitnue working witht em.

He said that I would get standard guns and all, but that this would not really be a warfare mission, but something a bit covert, even if a bit open.

I'll keep you posted.