[JA2:113] Neck Deep: The Inside Story of the Failed Liberation of Arulco *cancled*

[Santini]

Neck Deep: The Inside Story of the Failed Liberation of Arulco
Klaus von Santini
Published by SoF Publishing, 2011

Index:
1: The Ringer
2: The Pitch
3: Role Call
4: King Rat
5: Sweets
6: The Viper
7: The "Big Guy"
8: Our Wizard
9: Little Sis
10: The Plan
11: Mercs Enter, Stage Right. Plan Exits, Stage Left

[Santini]

The game will be:
Jagged Alliance 2, with 1.13.
+2 to difficulty, +1 to Bobby Ray's, Realistic.
Iron Man will be off, but I'm playing like it's on (The save function is helpful for breaking to do AAR)
As the effective date will be 2009, I'm tacking a 0 to all $ figures.
Using 6 IMP's, no MERCs or AIMs, and playing with no tolerance for cheese tactics

[Ciaran S]

That looks promising!
There´s not enough JA2 stuff around, and this game still is ruling supreme in its class.
Too bad you´re forgoing the mercs, though, who, after all make the game what it is, but that´s your call.
Your Close Ccombat AAR was great, so I´m hopeful for this one as well.

[Santini]

I got the call at 2 in the morning.

Hungover, I gasped in agony as I rolled to the right, out of bed, onto the floor. I crawled, hand over knee, across my plush, trendy rental floor, then blindly fumbled for the phone, anything to shut the damn ringer off.

My swiping mitts made contact, knocking the sucker from the cradle, landing with a thump beside me.

I rolled onto my back, watching the ceiling spin.

At last, I answered.

“… yes?”

The other voice came through, tarnished by the static on all lines running euro to west coast. That, and his mouth breather voice.

“I’ve something for you. Three fiddy kay upfront, high ground potentials thereafter, sunny clime, friendly peoples. You got shite planned for ’09?”

My booze saturated mind struggled, balking at the concept of time.

“Aaaah… yeah, mebbie. Can I call you at, like, a real time?”

A chuckle on the line.

“Ha, forgot you was in the land of the opportunities. You call me in 6?”

“Hows about 10.”

“Ayt.”
*click*

And so it began… the worst two years of my life. Had I known, I woulda reupped with Xe.

But I didn’t.

[Santini]

A coupla phone’s later, and the legitimacy of the mark was confirmed. Prepaid flight to Prague, and I met the contact. I had shaved, and even tossed on a tie.

The fella was called Enrico… Enrico Chi-something or other. Funny name for a Balkan fellow. Dude spoke with some sort of Slavic accent, and was constantly wiping sweat from his head with his tie. Strange fellow.

Anyhow, he opens up with the usual bull.

“Oh Mr. Santini! We are so glad that you took interest in our poor, oppressed country! The people of… “ Blah, blah blah, morality, thanks, democracy, bull-shite.

I stepped in. I hadn’t knotted a bloody tie to deal with this crap.

“Cut to the chase. You have money, and a problem. I like money, I solve problems. Gimmie the DL.”

He hemmed, he hawed, he cleared his throat, but I got it out of him.

Some place called Arulco, mineral rich, located in the west Balkans. Minor ethnicity and religion conflicts, a pseudo democratic king, and some sort of hostile takeover.

The important facts: rebel movement already in existence. Probable entry location furthest from the capital, with a nearby airstrip and some sort of mine. Not diamonds, some sort of rare metal.

Seemed legit. I gave the man my info’s, we shook, he transferred, and I had 6 months to do a put together and begin the op. I returned to my shitehole rental room, and started the fun- the paperwork.

[Santini]

I put out my calls- 5 names, 5 accepts. All good folk, all worked with them before.

Figured I’d need another Teams leader, a Heavy Weapons grunt, a Recon specialist, a Marksmen, and a Medic.

Chatted up my sis, Minx for the first- a smart girly, cool under fire, with plenty of night ops experience.

Fella named Jayne filled out at Heavy Weaps- seemingly a meathead, but actually just damned good at hiding his smarts. Not a swimmer, but no real issue.

For Recon, I finally got Snake on the line- called every dive bar in Tijuana, but he eventually picked up. He’s a sneaky guy, with a penchant for the explosives and point blank murder. A "cheery lad."

For Marksmen, I went with Hermione. Small, compact, always reading, and a “wizard” with anything scoped. A quiet girl, but a stone cold killer, with a quirky sense of humor.

Finally, Sweet’s rounded out the team as medic. A little dopey, a little sappy, sometimes freezes under pressure, but an absolute hero with a needle and thread.

Personnel acquired, I arranged our group meet in Athens, and flew off myself, looking to acquire the killing goods.

I set an $180,000 budget on weapons, knowing I’d go over, but by virtue of poor availability, I hit that number near spot on.

I was looking for two long arms in the 5.56, for myself and Hermy, two AK’s of some sort (for the easy ammo availability), and two MP-5’s (again, easy ammo, but also wicked deadly at ranged under 150 meters.

Alas, I had to settle- the unrest in the region had dropped the prices, but all the best goods had sold.

Helmets and vests came easy, and I got my hands on some decent NV gear. Picked up a couple of belts of 5.56, some 5.45 clips, and enough 9mm to choke a horse.

On the weapons front, however…

Ended up with some AK-74 sub’s, and Sig 552’s, and, believe it or not, some Sterling’s.

The AK’s were a steal- evidently the locals wanted them in 7.62, so the 5.45’s came cheap. The Sterling’s? No idea where the hell Nick got them, but they came mint, still greased and wrapped. The teams sure to grin when they see those suckers- maybe the nostalgia will overcome the disappointment.

The Sig’s got me pissed, however. Looking for longarms, and I got stuck with commando arms. At least I was able to fob off the 20 rnd clips, and get some real 30’s.

Couldn’t find any grenades, neither.

It’ll have to do.

The gear was stowed beneath the floorboards of my shite veedub, and I was off to meet and greet.

[Santini]

Near 50 views and 1 reply?
I'll asume my literary mastery has shocked y'all into silence.

Biographies coming up, but this section is going to take awhile, even if I end up splitting it up.

[Santini]

A little about myself:

Were this a movie, this is the bit with the thumping trendy pop in the background, maybe some Kanye or something. I dunno.

Was born in 72, the product of my father’s feverish couplings with my poor mother. Dad was a junkie.

I don’t think any of them came back from the jungles unscathed, but those that brought smack home with them seemed particularly hard hit. For the first years of my life, we moved from base to base. Started in Alabama, moved to the west coast, and my sister was born in 75. Shifted back to Georgia in 76, then back to Alabama, then finally to California in 79.

Seems that wherever the goods from the dragon triangle came, dad went, working up his own little junkie networks wherever we went, then requesting transfer whenever trouble cropped up.

Spring of 80 saw dad getting knifed twice, shot once, and left for dead in some Los Angles alleyway- evidently them Navy boy’s didn’t appreciate some grunt edging in on the needle trade.

Not sure how he worked it, but shortly thereafter, we got the reassign to Tacoma, and that’s the shitehole me and my sis, for the most part, grew up.

In ’88, I falsified my age, and joined up- with the Marines, of course. Couldn’t pass up the chance to do mum a favor and tweak daddies nose. Basic was quite fun, and standing on the asphalt shoes was perhaps the greatest moment of my life… leaving my sis, however, was no fun- didn’t see her again for 5 years.

The folk’s didn’t make the grad ceremony; guess dad was still pushing and furious at my service branch. I couldn’t care less- I was going active duty immediately, 3rd Battalion, 6th Marines.

Saw my first action at Panama, in December of ’89. Saw my first dead man on Dec 22nd, saw my first man die on the 24th, and killed my first man later that same day. It was… an unusual experience.

Sat in the sand doing nothing during Desert Shield, and participated in the blitz of Desert Storm. Somewhere in there, I meet Sweet’s, a reservist medic and civilian vet.

June of 91 saw me dishonorably discharged- over poon, as it often is.

Spent the next 2 years alternately couch surfing and street sleeping, deep in the bottle, before I headed off to South Africa on a hot tip, and my PMC career began.

As a PMC, I pretty much fought wherever the people were dark and the problems darker. Worked with Executive Outcomes from 94 to 98, and saw action in Sierra Leone. Spent two months with Dyncorp in Bosnia- got out of that one pretty quick, as the business was far dirtier than I could handle. Somewhere in there, I first met Snake.

Spent another couple of years drifting, before signing on with Your Solutions, and offshoot of Triple Canopy, training Hondurans in the art of dirty work. Met Hermy, a sharpshooting instructor.

Finally, signed up with Blackwater, ’05 to ’08, doing convoy security, working with a fantastic chap, Jayne.

Finally quit out after the second IED incident, whole of body, if not mind.


I guess if I had to wrap it up, I’d say I had the experience and the training to be the man Arulco needed.

[Santini]

Note: There will be pictures added to this section later tonight.

[PubliusKhannus]

This is quite a fun read indeed, gritty without being over-the-top pessimistic, Santini possesses a fluid capability to plan logistics without getting lost in the mire of technicalities. Thumbs up for this AAR, I shall be awaiting the next installment eagerly.

[Santini]

Thanks!
I'm going for a character that is sharp without being brainy- not a writer, per say, but someone looking to cash in on the fabled "story of a lifetime"

[PubliusKhannus]

Hmm with his connections he could always hire a ghostwriter

[Santini]

You don't think that maybe he's hiding somewhere, against the possibility of extra-legal reprocussions?

Let the story unfold, mang, it ends with a bang, I promise!

[Santini]

Pic'd up

[Santini]

I guess at this point I can quit yapping about myself, and maybe give some background on the proud, stupid few that chose to come with.

Guess I’ll start with Sweets.

Standard PMC practice would have anyone with the name Sweet, Sweety, Honey, Fluffy, hell, anything like that, a veritable psychotic, the mind of an abused pit-bull barely constrained in human form.

Not Sweets.

The name was, I believe, the product two factors: her endlessly, infuriatingly sunny outlook on everything and everyone, and her rather unusual choice of reassurances, to even the most horrifically wounded- Oh hun, oh sweetie, it’s okay, it’ll be all right, etc etc- all in that faintly southern drawl of hers.

Undoubtedly a carryover of her veterinarian practice. She already had the nickname from the day I met her, an out of depth reservist totally shell-shocked by the position her expensive education had put her. She was totally unsuited to the business, but an absolute miracle worker on the battlefield.

I must have seen her deal with three sucking chest wounds, several finger and toe reattachments, and even give a tracheotomy- all in the 6 days our units fought side by side.


So you can imagine my surprise when I ran into her again, 13 years later, in Honduras of all places…

Evidently she was fleeing an abusive relationship, and some PMC lead or another had recruited her over a chance meeting at PDX, and brought her down at ridiculous wages (over twice my own) to train the browns to patch up their own casualties.

She was a sweetie, and a softy, and as I said, totally unsuited for combat… but I’d always trust my life under her care, no matter the severity of the circumstance.

She was the first I called, and she accepted immediately. She was a tremendous asset, though one I’d need keep my eye on.

[PubliusKhannus]

It will interesting to see if Sweets can ever immerse herself into the battlefield without being affected by the horrors of war, it is apparent however that she is calm under pressure, able to heal wounded men while bullets snap around her and shells whine overhead. I for one hope she keeps her affable, southern charm throughout this tour.

[Santini]

To be honest, I don’t really know much about Snake or Jayne…

They’re both some of the deadliest killers it has been my honor to know, and they couldn’t be more different. You see, one runs cold, and the other, very, very hot.

When I first met Snake, in ’99, the guy was like a mirage. Caught glimpses of the sucker as he did his rounds, supposedly doing dirty work for the Croat mafia. Saw his alleged handiwork several times, but never saw the man himself anywhere near the bodies…

See, I think this entire generation has had their minds rotted by the artificial realities they reside in by games. I say “mafia hitman”, and people start thinking of garrotes, knives, blunt instruments, cement shoes, heads in vices.

Nope. Think twelve men shot 5 times at ranges so close the powder burns their clothing, the rounds enter and exit the vests. Think poison. Think landmines. Think roadblocks and RPG’s. Think carbombs. Think heads emptied by a 30-06 shot from a click away.

That is Snake.

He’s a slight, wiry guy, all sinew, muscle and non-descript face. When it’s not shorn or dyed, his hair is dark… for the life of me, I cannot recall his eye color. He’s that sort of person. Sometimes bearded, sometimes not.

I’m fair sure he’s from somewhere in former Yugoslavia, but given his broad range of accents he uses and drops at a whim, and his ability to seamlessly blend and integrate with any society… I have no clue.

He’s the definition of the cold customer, and the second man I called- though not without an effort. Started in Sweden, on a tip from a Croat friend, chased him from bartender to bartender down through to Spain, and finally made contact in the America’s. He was drunk, and bored, and all too ready to sign on. He demanded his usual per head fee on top off his weekly, but I figured he was worth the cash.

[Ciaran S]

Good start. And an interesting crew you´ve put together so far. I´m looking forward to the other members.

[Santini]

Thanks!
I'm hoping to have the rest of the team fleshed out by the end of the week

[Santini]

Announcement: AAR on semi hold.

I've just gotten rehooked on Silent Hunter III, and am thinking about starting an AAR, so this AAR will be progressing at a much slower pace then anticipated.