10-27-2015, 08:41 PM
There was one thing that would set Jacques apart from politicians and their ilk the world over. He was good with words, and had spent years learning what to say to appease the contract holders, to keep belligerents at bay, and to minimize the bribes needed to keep the politicians out of the Legion's hair. But unlike politicians, he knew when the time for words was over.
In Freetown, the time for words was over. Either the men would follow, or they would not. They were deeply shaken by what had happened at Masiaka. A fresh massacre to soon on the heels of the Battle of Jedah. They saw only death, disaster, and failure. It was the way of many to see the negative only.
They saw the casualty reports, the bombings, the corruption and concessions. They often seemed blind to whatever good came of even their own work. Soup kitchens, safe havens for refugees, medical care.
Jacques stood silently for a moment longer atop the vehicle, scanning the gathered Legionnaires. They were apprehensive; afraid, uncertain, angry, shamed. Action, not words, was what was needed.
"I go now to see Wallace-Johnson judged. You have your orders. From this day on, I need soldiers. Stand, and follow your orders, or step aside and be returned to your places of birth once we have liberated the airport and port."
He stepped down from the vehicle then, his Landwarriors once more obscuring his eyes from the world.
General Katlego's rebels were as close as Masiaka. Striking distance from General Wallace-Johnson's perimeter around Freetown. The Guinean warlords were carving a bloody swath through the unguarded north-east of the country. And, although he could not prove it, the violence in the south-east was likely the fault of the Libyans.
Peace would be bought through action, not words. Not appeasement, not bribes. The securing of that peace though, would anger politicians across the continent. They would be seen as upstarts, criminals. And those politicians would use words to stop the Legion. Economic sanctions, strongly worded letters, finger waving, cries for justice and trials.
But the time for words was over.
He climbed into the waiting vehicle, joined by a handful of Legionnaires tasked to escorting him to the meeting with Wallace-Johnson. Most would be forced to remain with the vehicles, but, if he were as lucky as some thought, he would be allowed one. His ace in the hole.
Should enough of his men choose to stand, there would be little bloodshed in Freetown. The 'government' soldiers had little true fight in them. They were thugs and brutes, cowards at heart. Faced by the allies Jacques had gathered around Freetown, allies backed by armed and armoured Legionnaires, Wallace-Johnson's men would surrender, given the chance, or run. Few would fight.
And once the airport and docks were opened, relief supplies would begin flowing in. The Legion relief convoy was mere hours away, bringing much needed emergency aid. And, of course, the added Legionnaires and equipment he would need to deal with General Katlego's forces. Miss Grey would have the freedom she so clearly wanted, or at least a greater illusion of freedom. As much as he could provide her, at least.
Edited by Jacques, Oct 28 2015, 09:20 PM.
In Freetown, the time for words was over. Either the men would follow, or they would not. They were deeply shaken by what had happened at Masiaka. A fresh massacre to soon on the heels of the Battle of Jedah. They saw only death, disaster, and failure. It was the way of many to see the negative only.
They saw the casualty reports, the bombings, the corruption and concessions. They often seemed blind to whatever good came of even their own work. Soup kitchens, safe havens for refugees, medical care.
Jacques stood silently for a moment longer atop the vehicle, scanning the gathered Legionnaires. They were apprehensive; afraid, uncertain, angry, shamed. Action, not words, was what was needed.
"I go now to see Wallace-Johnson judged. You have your orders. From this day on, I need soldiers. Stand, and follow your orders, or step aside and be returned to your places of birth once we have liberated the airport and port."
He stepped down from the vehicle then, his Landwarriors once more obscuring his eyes from the world.
General Katlego's rebels were as close as Masiaka. Striking distance from General Wallace-Johnson's perimeter around Freetown. The Guinean warlords were carving a bloody swath through the unguarded north-east of the country. And, although he could not prove it, the violence in the south-east was likely the fault of the Libyans.
Peace would be bought through action, not words. Not appeasement, not bribes. The securing of that peace though, would anger politicians across the continent. They would be seen as upstarts, criminals. And those politicians would use words to stop the Legion. Economic sanctions, strongly worded letters, finger waving, cries for justice and trials.
But the time for words was over.
He climbed into the waiting vehicle, joined by a handful of Legionnaires tasked to escorting him to the meeting with Wallace-Johnson. Most would be forced to remain with the vehicles, but, if he were as lucky as some thought, he would be allowed one. His ace in the hole.
Should enough of his men choose to stand, there would be little bloodshed in Freetown. The 'government' soldiers had little true fight in them. They were thugs and brutes, cowards at heart. Faced by the allies Jacques had gathered around Freetown, allies backed by armed and armoured Legionnaires, Wallace-Johnson's men would surrender, given the chance, or run. Few would fight.
And once the airport and docks were opened, relief supplies would begin flowing in. The Legion relief convoy was mere hours away, bringing much needed emergency aid. And, of course, the added Legionnaires and equipment he would need to deal with General Katlego's forces. Miss Grey would have the freedom she so clearly wanted, or at least a greater illusion of freedom. As much as he could provide her, at least.
Edited by Jacques, Oct 28 2015, 09:20 PM.