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Thread: Histories of a Boy Soldier (Ch. XVI - 05/30)

  1. #21

    Default Re: Histories of a Boy Soldier (Ch. VI - 02/04)

    Very nice. Can't wait to see all hell break loose in the next update.
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  2. #22
    Shankbot de Bodemloze's Avatar From the Writers Study!
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    Default Re: Histories of a Boy Soldier (Ch. VI - 02/04)

    It seems everyone else has said it all, so I'll just go for:

    +rep

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  3. #23

    Default Re: Histories of a Boy Soldier (Ch. VI - 02/04)

    Thanks guys!

    The story continues!

    Chapter VII
    VII - The Road to Battle

    Christmas Eve, 1992
    Camp Lungi, Moyamba District


    BANG BANG BANG, guns could be heard firing repeatedly all over. Occasional explosions of grenades nearby, and mortar fire erupted, the explosions overpowering the loudest of sounds, as a chain reaction, adding to the battlefield ambiance.

    Abel and his squad moved up, Major Red could be seen leading the charge forward. Scattered in front of them, across the crops, along the treeline were small candles, blinking repeatedly, as they fired life taking projectiles. The boys moved, staggering, trying to control their own composure in the fury of the assault. This was battle, Abel thought to himself repeatedly, for no more than a second at a time. He led his squad forward, they passed by the occasional lifeless body of one of their fellow boys, shell casings scattered among the trampled grass, small fires begun throughout the crops, the smoke thick, dark, made darker from the black of the night. Flares were fired by the enemy onto the crop fields, creating a misery glow in the hard visibility through the smoke, Abel for moments at a time would shut his eyes, and continue to push forward, hoping to evade stray bullets coming his direction.

    With his eyes closed, nearing the enemy, he felt the burning sensation in his right shoulder, and then his left hip, he dropped to the ground, taking in a third burning sensation, in his stomach. Landing on the trampled grass, he rolls side to side, screaming at the top of his lungs, unable to even see the clear night sky, due to the blacking fog of smoke above the field. He turns sideways, looking to a corpse nearby, it was Jon, staring back at him, lifeless, a dripping stream of blood, coming out of his mouth.

    Abel turned, crying, and screaming, as he reached for his gun, a man approached from behind him, stepping a heavy boot upon his wounded shoulder, and pointing the tip of an AK47 barrel in his face, he was fully dressed in typical government soldier regalia, and the shot was fired.


    "Wake up," an unfamiliar voice grunted.

    Abel awoke, in a scare, looking at the large dark figure, in his room, looking upon him. Abel got a slap from the giant man's hand, and he snapped into awareness.

    "Get up, Whitey. We move out now," the mysterious voice deeply grunted again.

    Abel's eyes, adjusting to the darkness of the room granted him some visibility. He knew now, it was Major Red, who was leading the shock troop attack, on the Moyamba junction. They were to leave earlier then the rest of the regular force, to strike at the government, and surprise them, in the middle of the night. He jumped up, gathering his scattered clothes, and putting his boots on, as Major Red stood at the open door, the occasional passerby, whom was part of the shock troops moved towards the exit, in the hall, passing his door.

    "Let's go, Whitey. We will find out how much you are worth to the revolution, tonight. Come on, soldier," Red blurted, before leaving the room, and exiting the barracks.

    Abel collected his nearby belongings, unknowing of when he might return to Lungi, if ever.. He gathered what few things he had, in a small backpack, he walked over to a bare table, where only a copy of Foday Sankoh's book laid. Abel picked it up, holding it, as he looked at it, glancing the book over, he wiped it off with his hand, as so to subconsciously convince himself that he was ridding it of dust, and making it clearer. He read the words, 'To Engage in the Will to Make Change Within Ourselves', the title read, he modeled the words in his mind, often reciting them to himself. He had read the book over two dozen times in the past four months, he recalled. He placed the book in his backpack, having loaded up what other small things he had, he slung it over his back, and walked out of the barracks.

    Outside the barracks, fifty soldiers, adult, child, officers, and regulars, all gathered. Caesar, and Red, looked upon the soldiers lined up, some still just getting there. Abel hurried up, and got a spot, next to his squad members. They all waited, in silence, as Caesar looked side to side, up, and down the line, waiting to speak.

    "You are the shock troopers. The best of the best. Major Red, will lead this charge, and strike at the Moyamba junction. By day break, you will have taken the junction. The forces I shall lead, behind this small group, will hold areas between here and the junction. We will establish a permanent check point, and base, at the junction, while holding on to our southern gains, here at Lungi.

    Don't be fooled. Moyamba is still a threat. We will force the government to withdraw, before we will advance from here.

    Alas, I will waste no more time,"
    Caesar turned to Red, and motioned with his hand, for him to address the troops.

    Red stepped forward, "You boys, you will keep up with the experienced soldiers of this group, or you will get the hilt of my side arm to the back of your heads. There will be no tolerance for weakness, or laziness.. We strike quick, we strike fast. We will catch them sleeping, perhaps under the influence of indulgences. I will have no weakness in this group. You will define yourselves, before morning. Move to the front. Go," he waved them all to disperse, and gather on the northern outskirts of the base.

    Abel, along with his squad members, and the others involved, all hustled to the meeting spot, as Major Red conversed with Caesar in private. Caesar looked at Abel, who was looking back, and he nodded. Abel took this as a sort of confirmation of Caesar's approval of his last four months of training.

    The assorted group of boys and men hustled to their designation, at the camp's northern entrance, just before reaching the bridge. There, they assembled. Officers were to lead regulars, in the march up the road. The trucks were hidden for days, a few kilometres up the road. To keep them out of sight of Kamajor and government spies, or scouts. The assault has been planned as most secretive as possible, as the rebels prepared to make their move, finally.

    The boys were agile, inspired by their constant training, which they will now put to use. Their momentum could not be higher at this given moment. Dozens of boys, and men, with the same goal in mind, charged forward. Months of constant running, to enhance their stamina will pay off tonight, as they move, as Caesar says, 'quick as a gazelle, silent as a snake'.

    Major Red led the fray up the road, adorned in full military outfit, he was a man with a cause this night. A cause he believed in more than the rest of us, or so it seemed.

    Upon reaching the hidden vehicles, several troops were stationed there, to watch over the vehicle. Seven technicals, in total, to transfer the rebels to Kwelu, and beyond, to the junction. They wasted no time, loading up as quickly as possible. The trucks began, and slowly, one by one, they drove out the side road bush, and made for a convoy up the road, towards Kwelu, located just a few more miles up the road.

    The trip seemed long, despite being no more than ten minutes. The rain was pounding now, the boys were drenched, all of them wore ponchos, to combat the intense weather conditions. This was a strike force intent on succeeding. Every precaution had been methodically planned out, and calculated to as near perfect for success as possible. Caesar was not a man whom accepted defeat easily. He was a brilliant, and methodical strategist. Having made less gains than other commanders, in the north, and central region of the country, he planned and planned for this moment, in hopes of achieving flawless victory. He will prove his worth to the R.U.F. this day, they all will.

    Kwelu was a small village, it had been relatively abandoned since the outset of the war. Most of it's residents were now in refugee camps, in Guinea, and the outskirts of Freetown, itself. The village was occupied by rebel soldiers. The government had made no attempts to retake the village, in recent months. The technicals drove through the streets, without stopping. Several rebel guards, on night shift, dotted the towns small street bends, as the technicals advanced. The checkpoint had been met. The convoy continued out of the town, up the northern road. Abel noticed several rebels, on a roofed porch, as the rain pounded down furiously. He saw one of the men, assuming him to be the commander in the town, puffing on a cigar, as others played cards, at a table behind him, not paying much attention to the odd, late night convoy passing by. The man connected with Abel momentarily, and moved his eyes to view the other technicals. Soon, they were out of the village, and headed north to the junction. They passed a couple smaller villages, Gandorhun, then Gbangbama, to Jagbahun. At Jagbahun, there was fork in the road, splitting off south, and north. They took the northern route, and continued on their way, passing scattered groups of rebels, and occasional patrols, along the roadway.

    The convoy was stopped in the village of Waterloo. Abel noticed Major Red exiting the passenger side of the front technical, he couldn't quite make out the conversation between the rebel captain, from Waterloo, and the Major. The two conversed for a minute, and then Major Red got back in the technical, and the rebel captain returned back to the relative dryness of a beaten up hut. The convoy continued out of the town. One village remained between them and the junction. Halfway to Kundiama, the technicals stopped, and the squad in the front technical dismounted, ushering the rest of them to do the same, "Get out, get out now!" A member of Red's squad commanded to the rest of the rebels. They all dismounted, readjusting their gear, and re-shouldering their rifles. Red's men led them all into the bush, on the side of the road. The technicals turned around, heading back down south, to Waterloo.

    Once in the bush, each of the squad leaders were plucked from their gatherings, and huddled by the front, to be addressed by Major Red. "The next town, is held by sobels. Our boys left there only hours ago, the sobels should have cleared out by morning, and our boys will reoccupy the village. The sobels have hunkered down there for the night, not large in number, but certainly large enough to trigger an alarm at a moment's notice. We will not risk taking the town back, and losing our element of surprise. Our main target is the junction, and will go around the village, and spring the surprise there. Any questions?" Red demanded.

    Abel took in a breath, and was about to ask a question, when Red interrupted, "Good. Now move." Red returned to his squad, as did Abel, and the other leaders. The men moved. They now had to trek through pour rain, and muddy forest. In the distance, lights could be seen, dotting the town ahead. They went around. Surprisingly, there were no government patrols, perhaps not yet organized. It would have been easy to take the village back, but they dared not risk it. They continued around, watching the village carefully, as people could be seen moving in the village.

    They ably passed by the village, undetected, and without having to engage the enemy, and continued on their mission, towards the junction. Less than two kilometers away, the government troops had no idea what was coming. They were unprepared, and half the strength of the rebel strike force was in the element of surprise, and Abel knew that.

    The government, unlike their makeshift sobel allies, take the necessary precautions, even on Christmas Eve, of preparing their defenses. It was not long, before enemy patrols could be spotted in the distance. Sentries, set up around the junction’s exterior could be seen. Unfortunately, for the government, the rebels had foreseen this.

    Red ordered the halt, and the officers followed suit, ordering their men to lie low, in the thick bush. Abel was beckoned forward, as were the other squad leaders. All of them, eleven officers in all, were huddled around.

    "The government has positioned their sentries accordingly. They are in the same positions that they have been for weeks. Their predictability will assist in their downfall. The arrangements have been made," Red said, as he turned around and watched from their hiding position.

    Abel clued in, that Red’s squad members had disappeared.

    Abel spotted Red’s men, creeping up the jungle floor, just down the small sloping hill. Each of his men, were designated to target a specific sentry. There were three sentries, that Abel could make out. He counted in his head, ‘one…. Two…. Three….’

    The rest of the rebels were still hugging shrubbery, down the slope of the hill opposite the government position. Only Abel, and the other officers observed Red’s advance. His men were strong, and quick, they were commonly referred to as ‘the Reavers’, a title made famous by their brutal, and sadistic attacks. They showed no remorse, and they killed mercilessly. Some of the members were part of an outlawed mercenary faction, headed by Major Red, at one point, under the name, “Red’s Rangers”. Abel, and the boys, had learned about Major Red extensively, in school, as part of their history class.

    He felt as if he was in the presence of an infamous outlaw, among the likes of Jesse James, or Billy the Kid, from the American Old West. There was a national bounty on Red’s head. Even an international bounty, as Abel recalled to himself. As Abel waited, thinking to himself, he clued back in to what was going on, after his internal rant over Major Red’s infamy.

    The reavers slowly crept up to their targets, unnoticed, by the constant rain. Many of the sentries were paying no never mind to their surroundings, believing it to be another long, dull, and uneventful shift. Squinting his eyes to focus his vision, Abel watched the closest one, the middle reaver now within reaching distance of the government soldier’s feet. He grabbed him, pulling his left leg forward, so as to make him fall, and lose control of his shoulder-slung rifle, and before the man could react, the reaver drew a buck knife, and slit his throat. He then dragged the soldier’s corpse deeper into the bush. The second reaver crept up, easier, on a guard facing the opposite direction. He had lit a smoke, under an umbrella, completely clueless of what was going to happen. The reaver slowly stood up, behind the guard, and he put his left hand around the guards face, grabbing him by the chin, he pulled the guard’s head back, the cigarette flying down to the rain drenched, muddy jungle floor, and he, like the first reaver, opened the guard’s neck with a buck knife, and then dragging the lifeless body into the bush. By the time Abel had watched him do so, he noticed the third reaver had already killed the third sentry.

    Abel turned around, looking to his nearby squad members, and he made eye contact with Musa, he nodded his head, and turned back around. He un-shouldered his AK47, as Major Red signaled the approach of the regular rebels, and they all slowly crept up to the side of the hill. They all held their rifles in hands, Abel’s grip, firmer than he’d ever held the gun before, unsure of what was sweat, brought on by his nerves, and what was rain pounding off their ponchos, and then Red motioned with his fist to move forward. The rebels, seventy in total, began descending down the sloped hill, slowly, towards the camp, the rainstorm continuing to bombard the jungle floor, and the camp, which was all but aware of the impending battle..

  4. #24

    Default Re: Histories of a Boy Soldier (Ch. VI - 02/04)

    Quite brilliant. I really enjoyed the way they approached the camp.
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  5. #25
    Rex Anglorvm's Avatar Wrinkly Wordsmith
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    Default Re: Histories of a Boy Soldier (Ch. VII - 02/12)

    Quite grimly efficient the way they dispatched those guards.

    Rep for a good update+

  6. #26

    Default Re: Histories of a Boy Soldier (Ch. VII - 02/12)

    Quote Originally Posted by Robin de Bodemloze View Post
    Quite brilliant. I really enjoyed the way they approached the camp.
    Thanks Robin!

    Had to set it up nicely for the battle chapter

    Quote Originally Posted by Rex Anglorvm View Post
    Quite grimly efficient the way they dispatched those guards.

    Rep for a good update+
    Oh, trust me, Rex, it's going to get a lot worse, before this story is over


    Chapter VIII
    VIII - The Battle of Moyamba Junction

    Christmas Day, 1992
    Moyamba Junction, Moyamba District


    They advanced with caution, but motivated by extreme determination to succeed. They spread out, each squad covering a section of the advance. They got closer, no sentries left on the outskirts of the junction. There were plenty of structures dotting the area of the junction, and scattered soldiers were still conducting internal patrols through the area, unaware of what was coming. The rebels reached the rears of the bordering structures of the junction, and used the cluttered storage behind them for cover, as they advances through the small, cluttered alleys between the structures. The structures' exteriors were lined with cheap paneling, providing plenty of continuous noise, with the constant rain pounding off the rooftops.

    Abel, and his squad members advanced through one alley way, his squad members on his heels, as he took orders to join battle, only from Major Red, when the flare was lit. Abel peered through the cracks of some crates, just by the porches of the structures they were between. He could see some movement across the main courtyard, where he noticed other rebels, part of the attack, moving forward, and around the buildings on the opposite side. There was one large building, about forty yards away, across the junction, where Abel saw three soldiers playing cards, under a lit lantern, hanging from the roof. Their guns were not far from them. He continued to look around, noticing a high tower, in the front of the junction, surrounded by fence on the base, and in the top, there were four spotlights facing down in all directions. Lanterns were lit on almost every structure in the junction.

    Abel turned around to the rest of his squad members, whom all looked back at him, Musa, Solomon, Big Sy, Remy, and one other, who was a late addition, only having spent a month with Abel's squad, Enoch. Enoch was quiet, and reserved, he was fairly religious, and carried a cross with him. He was convinced that the rebels were doing God's work, by ridding the evil corruption, which plagued the politics of Sierra Leone for too many years. This was his motivation for fighting. One thing, that all of the boys had in common, Abel included, was that they had never killed a person yet. This was one thing, that differentiated them from Major Red, and his reavers.. For the time being, Abel realized.

    He turned back, knowing, and trusting that each of his soldiers, if not anyone else, would have his back in this battle.

    Lanterns lit the structures dotting the junction, with some light posts up around the courtyard, creating good lighting for the assault. Abel counted out half a dozen soldiers around the courtyard, and he noticed now, he assumed it was the reavers, were surrounding the barracks on the other side of the courtyard. Abel firmed his grip on the hilt of his weapon. When the sentry in the tower has his back turned to the other side of the junction, a lone rebel dashed across the muddy courtyard to the sentry tower, throwing himself up over the fence, and rolling on the other side, in the mud, he began to climb up the ladder of the tower.

    A flare erupted from behind the barracks, high into the air, signaling the rebels to advance on the barracks'. The card playing rebels didn't notice the flare, but the guard in the tower did. The guard failed to signal the alarm immediately, trying to look to see what was going on. By this time, the rebel soldier had burst through the tower trapdoor, engaging in a melee with the soldier. Just then the reavers smashed the windows of the barracks, from the sides, and launched Molotov cocktails through the windows. The explosions riled the camp, the burst of flames launching out the shattered windows of the barracks, the screams of men inside heard. Two reavers flanked, on opposite sides of the barracks, they caught the three soldiers at the porch off guard, and lit them up from both sides, with their rifles, killing the three men. Abel heard the door bust open from the building to the right of him, a soldier appeared with an AK47 aimed towards the reaver positions. Abel looked at the man, his rifle pointed at him, but he was unable to force himself to pull the trigger. The man was shot from the other side of the barracks, from the alley on the other side of the structure, from Abel. Abel noticed it was Omry who shot the man, and Omry's squad advanced, his men behind him, into the barracks to the right of Abel's squad.

    Just then, a man with a bayonet leaped over the rail, from the porch to the left side of Abel, and he aimed to impale Abel with his bayonet, but Big Sy charged forward, machete drawn, and took a monstrous swing at the soldier's neck, catching him in the neck, and sending the thin soldier crashing into the side of the porch, the machete still stuck in his neck, after the handle slipped out of Big Sy's grasp.

    Abel picked himself up, with assistance from Big Sy, "come on, Cap," he said, and Abel snapped into it that the battle had begun, he picked up his AK47, and charged onto the porch of the structure to their left, as Omry's squad entered the structure to the right, and gunfire could already be heard inside the structure, where Omry's men had entered.

    Abel slid himself under the rail of the left porch, with his squad members behind him, "let's move, clear this one out". Big Sy forcibly pulled his machete out of the neck of the half dead soldier, as the soldier would no longer be a threat, blood gushing out of his neck, and mouth, and causing him a series of trembling shakes, Sy taking his rifle and tossed it back into the alley, he continued behind the squad members. Another burst out of the front door, as Abel approached it, and he ran into the courtyard, not caring to look to the sides. Solomon, and Musa both fired their rifles several times, striking the man several times in the back, causing him to fall flat on his stomach, into the muddy street. Abel peered around into the structure, and noticed a young boy curled up by his bed, no rifle in hands, just a lone boy, in military uniform, with his arms wrapped around his knees, cowering from the uncertainty of their situation, having heard explosions, and gunfire, the boy was crying. Abel shut the door, "next one," sending them to the structure next to them, leaving the boy inside the building, by himself.

    As Abel and his boys moved to the next building, they took fire from the opposite side of the junction. Abel was the first to notice movements, out of his peripheral vision, "hit the floor!" He shouted.

    A lone building, across the courtyard, with two front windows, had two soldiers with their rifles mounted through, firing at them. Abel and the other boys hit the floor of the porch, Abel, Musa, and Solomon sliding under the rail of the left side of the porch of the shack structure, behind some crates, they all put their rifles up on the crates, and returned fire. Big Sy grabbed Enoch, and pulled him to the alley, as they had cover fire from Abel, Solo, and Musa. Remy was in the rear hurrying behind them to get off the defenseless porch.

    One of the windows fired upon by the three boys, was now silent, with no return fire. "We got him!" Musa shouted.

    Abel looked up, seeing only small fire from the second window, "yeah, but the other bastard's still there, focus fire on the right window."

    As the boys fired on the window, they stopped when a reaver appeared from an alley, he crept up onto the porch of the structure, with a Molotov lit, he tossed it into the window, the fire explosion erupting out of the window, the bloody scream of the soldier inside, burning alive, could be heard. The reaver, without much hesitation, continued about his business, jumping over the rail, and disappearing in the alleyway. Men could be heard yelling in the distance, in another of the junction's courtyards, further up the road. The reavers disappeared into the bush, moving further up the junction, towards, as the youth troops secured the area.

    Abel, and his squad members cleared out the last building on the left, used just as a general materials storage. His squad members moved across the courtyard, to secure the buildings on the other side. Omry's squad was already ahead of them, reaching the first building, they moved in to secure it. Remy went up to the soldier that Musa, and Solo had shot, and he began looting him. Abel slung his AK over his shoulder, and put his pinkies in his mouth, whistling at Remy, who snapped to attention, and grabbed something out of the soldier's back pocket, and hustled up to the rest of the squad.

    The boys reached the first building, which was on fire now. Abel, and Sy approached the front door, Sy kicked the screen door in, and they went in, "keep low, and to the left," Abel ordered Sy, and the two kept to the left of the building, as the right side of the structure was on fire, they covered their faces, and went into the left room, which the fire had yet to spread to.

    They entered the room, and found the corpse of a soldier they had shot at, when they were surprised on the porch. "Loot him," Abel commanded, and they quickly looted the soldier's body, taking his rifle, sheathed knife, ammunition, and small trinkets, including a watch, necklace, and ring off his finger. The climbed out of the window, and away from the building that was now burning at a rapid pace, spreading to the left side. They met up with JoJo's squad, the third of four youth squads to accompany the assault, in the center of the courtyard. Together, the two squads moved forward. They were supposed to link up together, but Omry took his squad ahead, following the reavers advance.

    The boys reached the next courtyard, and it was utter carnage. Half a dozen buildings were on fire, and there were a dozen corpses in the courtyard. The firefight continued up ahead, gunshots could be heard as frequent as the sound of the rain pounding down on the area around them. Every now and then, small explosions could be heard. Makeshift firebombs, or Molotov cocktails, and even grenades were being used by the advancing reavers to wreak havoc on the hunkered down positions of the government troops. There was a storage area in the middle of the courtyard, and the youth troops moved to it, where they were supposed to, but Omry's squad was nowhere in sight. They arrived at the storage area, around another sentry tower, and they took cover behind the fully surrounded base, where there were sandbag walls, and stocked crates, providing relief from sporadic gunfire.

    They were not there long, as the reavers could be seen engaging forces ahead, and burning buildings on the north end of the encampment, as the government regrouped on the south side, and advanced on the youth troops position. Jo-Jo and Abel commanded their troops to keep cover, "south, south south, prone crouch positions," Abel yelled, as there was now a consistent and merciless barrage of gunfire from the southern buildings, where over a dozen government soldiers now mounted a siege of the makeshift fortified position, in the center.

    "Keep your heads down, wait until they reload!" Abel commanded. "They will have to advance on us, if they want to stop the Major, and his men. We will wait this out."

    The boys did as they were commanded, and Jo-Jo followed suit, keeping his men down, as the government soldiers continued an endless barrage on the position, with little effect.

    Abel noticed some of Jo-Jo's men reaching up, firing pop shots over the top, when they were told to stay down, "keep your goddamn heads down!" Abel moved low to the other squad, and he grabbed one of the soldiers firing pop shots, and pulled him down onto his behind. Jo-Jo grabbed him, without words, the boy knew he was out of line disobeying orders.

    Abel went for the other boy, who was peeking over the top, and before he could reach him, the boy was shot, straight through the head, the bullet cleared out the back, the boy dropped into a puddle, the rain still pounding down furiously. Abel shook his head, "the rest of you keep your goddamn heads down, or I'll put my foot up your asses."

    Abel found a crack in two crates, and he watched, with limited view, the government soldiers, seeing just the sparks of light from their guns. He noticed some other movement, behind the government fire position, and realized a soldier bringing up an RPG to the front. Another soldier was quick to cease firing, and assisted in loading the RPG, while the soldier carrying it knelt down, and aimed the launcher at the left side of their position.

    "Solo, Musa right side. Now! All move right!" The two boys were stunned slightly by the command, but Big Sy grabbed them, and the entire squad moved to the opposite side of the fortifications, and within moments the government fire a rocket round, which impacted the makeshift barricades, blasting the crates wide open, sand exploded out in every direction, and the rest poured out a now cratered section of the crates and sandbags. The gunfire had, by this point, ceased largely, and Abel knew the majority of the soldiers were reloading.

    "Return fire now!" He yelled, as the soldiers peeked just over the barricades, and began to return fire on the government position. The soldiers hid for cover, some actually withdrawing into the structure, from the fortified porch, and others, into the alley ways. Abel noticed two of the soldiers had been hit, and half of them withdrew. The RPG team reloaded, by this point, and instead aimed at the tower behind them. "Focus fire, left left left!" Abel blurted out, as the soldiers aimed towards the RPG team, and fire was now focused on the RPG team. The loader had been struck twice, and dropped to the ground, but the soldier with the launcher fired before he was clipped, and the launcher dropped after, "hit the ground!" Abel yelled, jumping down, holding two of the boys down in the mud. The RPG hit the tower, taking out the south-east support beam, which caused the tower to lean slightly over their position. Abel was quick to jump up, ordering them to retreat to the back of the position, as the tower leaned, and loud snaps could be heard, as the tower's beams bent, it was slowly falling. One of the boys had been hit, and Big Sy, and Abel both grabbed him, and dragged him out of the collapsing tower's way. They had just managed to get out of the area, when the tower collapsed, crushing it's beams together, and severing the two combative sides. The boy was crying, and only then, Abel, and Sy realized he had been hit with shrapnel debris, from the rocket explosion on the tower. He had a two by three inch piece of metal in the left side of his stomach, he was bleeding out profusely, at this point. Abel held him in his arms, the boy continued to cry, until he stopped suddenly, his eyes, open, but his body, lifeless. Abel slipped the boy's body off his lap, letting him slide onto the muddy water, on the ground. The boy had been younger than Abel, eight or nine, he suspected.

    Sy grabbed Abel, beckoning him to move. Abel was hesitant, but they needed to pull back, to the other sides of the barricades. By this point, the entire north of the junction encampment was burning. Every building alight, creating a constant wall of fire, all around. The rain was pouring less intense now, but still a consistent fall. The gunfire was less frequent, subsiding for the most part. When the boys had regathered on the north side of the barricades, a few rebels were spotted in the distance, coming from the direction that the Major and his reavers moved.

    Two of the three approaching broke off to head back to the area, where the assault was initially launched from. The third of them approached the two youth squads.

    Abel leaned back, sitting in the mud, against the barricades, his head back on the crate, catching his breath. His nerves were shot. He just had his first battle, and his first command, and he survived, as did his entire squad, two, however, from Jo-Jo's squad, had been killed. But a battle without casualties on both sides, is seldom a battle at all, he thought to himself. It was an inevitable outcome.

    Their rebel comrade arrived, Abel recognized him now, with his red headband, he was on of Red's reavers. The man reached the boys, "who is Captain Able?" He asked them all, generally.

    Abel raised his arm, "I am."

    "The Major commanded me to inform you that the junction is taken. The government is in full retreat, severed in two, north, and south, they flee. The others chase them down. The battle is won."

    Abel could do nothing now, the rain tapering off to a light pour at this point, he laid back on the crates, his head lopping down it's side, the rest of the boys looking at him, he noticed nods of acknowledgement. He earned a new respect from them, now. All of them could now consider themselves, officially, soldiers of the revolution.
    Last edited by Dance; February 17, 2013 at 07:45 AM.

  7. #27
    Rex Anglorvm's Avatar Wrinkly Wordsmith
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    Default Re: Histories of a Boy Soldier (Ch. VIII - 02/17)

    Interesting...Abel's first introduction to battle.

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  8. #28

    Default Re: Histories of a Boy Soldier (Ch. VIII - 02/17)

    Brilliant stuff. I loved the detail you put into the narrative. Really helps to bring everything alive.

    I'll send a few thoughts over PM - this is a good
    chapter to do that with I think. +rep.
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  9. #29

    Default Re: Histories of a Boy Soldier (Ch. IX - 03/06)

    My apologies for the slow update. It's been a hectic couple of weeks. Last week was hectic with the Winter Scriptorium Competition entries (of which I submitted three to all three categories . Plus countless hours have gone into my preparations for my new AAR. I am so excited for that as well!

    I assure you my next update will be far sooner!

    Without further ado.

    My loyal readers:



    Chapter IX

    IX – Rivalry

    Christmas Day, 1992
    Moyamba Junction, Moyamba District

    It was a little after ten o’clock on Christmas morning, at the junction. The camp was relatively quiet. Many of the rebels were still asleep after a fairly short, but intense battle. Abel and his squad had taken refuge in a church which had only been lightly damaged during the battle. A rocket had hit the framing of one of the windows, which left a large crater of a hole in the wall around. The impact blasted out a dozen windows on that side of the church, but for the most part it was left near fully intact. The boys had done little more than brush aside glass shards to create sleeping space on the floor. They moved a few wood pews out of the way to create some space. Abel ensured each member of his squad had packed a bed roll for the mission. All of the boys had scattered their bedrolls over the area, in a small corner of the church. It was a good place to use as a sleeping quarter. The solid stone walls provided excellent protection compared to the common scrap metal shanties, and wooden structures that made the perimeter of the town.


    Abel awoke to beams of sunlight on his face. He hadn’t gotten much more than a few hours sleep. He noticed most of the boys in his squad were still asleep, save Silas, who must have been awake by that time, as his bedroll was empty. The other side of the church housed JoJo’s squad. JoJo was now one of Abel’s closest supporters, in the youth officer ranks, after Abel’s assistance in leading them to victory, and more important their continued survival, earlier that day. Not much movement was happening from JoJo’s squad’s area. Abel assumed they were, for the most part still asleep.

    Abel walked out a side door of the church. Silas was smoking a cigarette on the front steps. He was nearly done it by that point. He saw Abel and nodded his head, and Abel nodded back, letting out a huge yawn, as he stretched his arms out, linking his hands behind his back, and giving his arms a tug and push backwards.

    Silas took a puff. “Some night, huh?” he said, as Abel leaned against an iron railing on the side of the stairs.

    Abel didn’t say anything. He just nodded and looked around at all the damage caused during the battle. Most of the buildings on all sides of the junction had been burned out. What was left was simply structural remnants of flooded, caved in structures, no use at all now. The muddy streets were still partially flooded. There wasn’t much space to walk through without going a foot deep in water. A few government soldiers could be seen moving the dead bodies of their fallen comrades near the centre of town, under the watchful eyes of a youth soldier from Henry’s squad, Abel had faintly recognized him.

    “Any idea how many dead yet? Have you spoken to anyone?” Abel said, looking more around the junction seeing scattered rebels patrolling.

    “No idea. I haven’t been out here for long. Just came out to grab a quick cig. I’m glad I wrapped them up in plastic, because the rain had soaked through the bag.” Silas said, as he tossed his cigarette butt, and drew another from his pack. “If the boys back in Lungi could see us now, Abe. Seasoned fighters.” He turned and smiled at Abel, holding up the cigarette pack offering him one.

    Abel waved away the offering. “Not now,” he said, as Silas closed the pack up, and slipped it inside his jacket pocket, smiling, knowing Abel considered himself too pure for such indulgences.

    “Any sign of that crook coward, Omry?” Abel said.

    “None. The Major, nor his reavers either. I assume their further into the town. The gov’ troops scattered like pussycats when they saw half their town burning.” Silas boasted.

    Abel ignored the latter part of Silas’ comment. “Let the boys sleep. They earned it. Go get some more yourself too, there’s no telling when we will get our next break.”

    Silas nodded in acknowledgement, as Abel walked down the steps and walked to the center of the junction, where some government captives were lining up rows of corpses. Abel approached one of the rebel boys watching them. “Hey, you. Where is Hen— Captain Hellion?” Abel corrected himself.

    The rebel hadn’t turned around. He was too busy enjoying the forced manual labor of the captives. “Bah, who wants to know?” He said, still with his back turned.

    Abel stopped behind him. “Your superior officer.”

    The boy turned around, letting his rifle hang down, on its sling, as he saluted Abel. “Sorry, First Captain. I didn’t know it was you.”

    Abel had his hands linked behind his back. He jolted his head forward slightly signifying his acknowledgement of the apology, but ignoring it, and the slight largely. “Where is Captain Hellion, I’ll ask again.”

    The boy pointed to a small store, easily noticeable as the two structures on both sides of it had collapsed during the engagement.

    Abel nodded, looking over to the building, and then back to the boy. The boy could have been no older than nine, he assumed. He looked passed him to the captive soldiers.

    “What is your name, boy?” Abel asked.

    “Samuel, sir. Samuel Nudangu of Moyamba.”

    Abel had been from Moyamba, but the town was fairly large, far too large for him to recognize every boy that had lived there. He didn’t recognize him, but took solace in the fact that perhaps many of his friends survived much like Samuel did… So far.

    Abel averted his attention back to the captive soldiers. “Have they been given proper food and water, since their capture?”


    “No, sir,” the young boy snapped back. “They are captives, sir.”

    “And captives don’t eat or drink?”

    The boy looked unsure of himself. He had been a loss for words for a few moments. He looked back to the captives, and then back to Abel. “I’m sorry, sir. Captain Hellion said we are not to give the captives anything.”

    Abel shook his head as he turned around. “Carry on.” He was about to turn, then kept facing the boy. “Oh, and soldier. Give them something to eat and drink. Don’t worry about Captain Hellion. As your superior officer, that’s a command.”

    The boy saluted again, and turned back around. Two government captives were carrying bodies, as two other captives carried them over one by one to the two placing them. Abel considered it an unfortunate circumstance that so much death was necessary to achieve their goals.

    He approached the store, now a makeshift sleeping quarter for Henry’s squad. He arrived at the front and the guard knew who he was. He was saluted, and saluted back.

    He walked up the steps towards the store. Henry was sitting having a beer, listening to the radio. Abel recognized him through the screen door. The signal was very weak and there was a lot of static. When Henry noticed Abel walking in, he turned the radio off.

    “Captain Able!” He shouted in a mocking tone. “Blessed with the presence of the First Captain, we are.” He turned around to another of the rebels, who smiled, while leaning back against the wall in a chair, as a fan blew on him.

    “To what do we owe this honor, sir?” There was a clear discretion of mockery in Henry’s tone.

    Abel brushed it off. “Where’s Omry?”

    Henry took a large sip of his beer, gulping it down, finishing with a long, strewn out, and exaggerated sigh of relief. “That really hit’s the spot. Want a brew, Cap? Take a load off, relax. We just won a battle.”

    “There will be many more before we’re done.” He began to get impatient. “Where is Omry, Henry. I’m not playing games with you.”

    The other rebel dropped his chair back down on all fours, and stood up, trying to intimidate Abel with his stance. Henry intervened by putting his hand out to halt the youth’s aggressive stance. He then stood up himself, confronting Abel. He took his shades off, and looked Abel in the eyes.

    “You think your something special, don’t you?”

    Abel looked right back at him, not flinching an inch.

    Henry backed up a foot, and sat on the edge of the table. “He’s at the town hall, a block around the north road.” He pointed the direction he was referring to. ”There.”

    Abel swiveled his head to look to look. Then he turned his attention back to Henry. He just shook his head and walked out of the store, down the steps, and was on his way.

    Henry went outside, and stood on the store’s porch. His rebel subordinate, from inside, followed him, and they both watched Abel walk away. Henry was noticeably furious by Abel’s apparent brashness, and what he considered extreme disrespect during their confrontation.

    As Abel walked up the north street, he saw Omry cutting across the street further up ahead. He stuck his thumb, and his ring finger in the sides of his mouth and whistled to get Omry’s attention. He got his attention, but Omry turned to see who it was, saw Abel, and turned back to go about his business. He walked onto up onto a porch, and was greeted by two other boys from his squad, who were relaxing on the porch, in the shade.

    Abel speedily walked up, anxious to confront Omry about his squad’s disappearance during the battle earlier that night, which effectively left Abel, and JoJo’s squads to fend for themselves, without proper support, as the battle plan had detailed. Abel was furious at Omry for what he considered unforgiveable and despicable disobedience.

    Omry stood on the steps of the porch with one foot on the porch level, and one foot a step down, leaning on the wood beam that held the roof up. He lazed there chatting with the two men from his squad. Abel walked up behind him. “Omry.”

    Omry ignored him, and continued talking. The two boys have had tension for months, leading up to the battle, and still are at odds. Their tension with each other seems to be increasing, as their tenuous relationship with one another continues to deteriorate at a rapid rate, as time goes on.

    “Captain Omen.” Abel said, using Omry’s military moniker. Again he was ignored. He stood there for a moment, about to speak again.

    Omry turned at the last moment. “Oh, First Captain Able. I didn’t see you there. You survived the battle. I’m… Overjoyed.”

    The two boys in Omry’s squad both cracked smirks, at the sarcastic jest.

    “Where did you,” he looked from Omry to the other two boys, and back to Omry, ”and your squad go during the battle, last night?”

    “Oh, you didn’t hear?” Omry said, as he walked down the steps and confront Abel on even ground. “Yeah, well, my squad, we were chosen directly by the Major to join the shock troops.” He turned, smirking to his squad members, and forcing a straight face again. “Well, basically, we were busy up ahead killing the government scum when you and your… Squad, were cleaning up, and looting the corpses we left behind.”

    Abel was wroth at that moment, but didn’t let it show in his facial expressions, yet. “You had direct orders, and you disobeyed them, Omry.”

    “What’s the loss, Abe? We won the battle. We all enjoyed the victory, evenly. What more do you expect?”

    “We were ambushed, Omry. We lost two of our own guys in the process. It would not have occurred if you had followed the battle plan accordingly, and had our backs.”

    Omry pulled a cigar from his pants, chopped it, lit it, and took a huge puff. He blew the smoke in Abel’s face, and before he could get anymore words out, Abel grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt collar, with both hands, and shoved him backwards, over the stair railing. The boy had completely fallen over backwards, and Abel lost his own balance slightly, on the muddy, watery ground and stumbled next to him, his hand, and knee going into the mud. While he pushed himself back up, Omry was covered in mud, all along his back, where he had landed in the mud. He got back up, furious with Abel, he took a swing. Abel moved in close, and tackled Omry into a muddy puddle, then gaining control, as he balanced himself, on his knees. The puddle was deep enough for Omry’s entire head to become nearly entirely submerged for a couple moments. His shades had fallen off, and into the mud. Omry was temporarily dumbfounded by the situation. Abel, gaining control on top of Omry, landed a punch with his right, and then one with his left, and another with his right, before Omry’s boys jumped down and grabbed Abel, pulling him off a bloody-faced Omry.

    Omry was helped up by another one of his squad members, who heard the commotion from inside, and ran out to help. Omry was enraged, and pushed off his squad member, and took a lunge towards Abel. He landed a punch in Abel’s stomach, and then he grabbed him by the tops of his shoulders, as his two other boys each let go of Abel’s arms, their intention was not to hold him while Omry exercised cheap shots on him. Omry then kneed him as hard as he could directly in the stomach. Abel’s body dropped to his knees. He had the wind knocked out of him, and coughed profusely for a few seconds. Omry wiped the blood from his face, with his arm. He bent over, picking up his crushed, muddied sunglasses. They must have been stepped on during the scuffle.

    “You busted my shades, bro.” Omry said, as he walked closer, and grabbed Abel’s head by the hair, exposing his core, he gave him a punch to the stomach, and then, when Abel’s head bobbed back, and forward again, Omry connected with a solid uppercut, which sent Abel’s head backwards. He lost all balance and collapsed backwards into the mud. Omry laughed, and approached him. Abel slowly picked himself up. He took a quick jab right at Omry’s left thigh and caused him to tremble slightly. Abel then grabbed Omry’s right arm, which had come out exposed, and twisted it behind his back, as he moved behind him. He then grabbed Omry with his right hand by the hair on the top of his head, and with his other hand holding his arm in a submission, Abel took him and slammed his face into the porch railing. A spurt of blood exploded from Omry’s face, and he dropped the ground, near unconscious. He didn’t get up this time. All three of Omry’s troops backed off. One bent down to see if he was alright.

    “Tell this piece of st when he comes to, that if he ever disobeys a direct order, strays away from any orders, albeit battle, leadership, or even meals, or even something as small as considering to pass gas in my direction without myself being fully informed, and my consenting, I will visit him again. It won’t be no small discipline neither, I assure you. I’ll put a bullet in his head, to start. After him, I will hunt down every one of his supporters, and repeat the process for them. Mark my words on that, boys.”

    Abel walked away, staggering slightly, but barely noticeable. He still felt the small effects of losing his breath.

    Heading back to the church, as he wiped the blood off his face, he had felt liberated. He had gotten a small bit of justice for his fallen comrades. That and ensuring that Omry knows who the leader youth troop officer is. He hoped he had set Omry straight this time around. Only time would tell...

    Last edited by Dance; March 06, 2013 at 05:09 AM.

  10. #30
    Rex Anglorvm's Avatar Wrinkly Wordsmith
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    Default Re: Histories of a Boy Soldier (Ch. IX - 03/06)

    A brutal but sometimes effective form of leadership displayed by Abel there!

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  11. #31

    Default Re: Histories of a Boy Soldier (Ch. IX - 03/06)

    I have a feeling this will result in trouble later on. Nice update.
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  12. #32
    Shankbot de Bodemloze's Avatar From the Writers Study!
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    Default Re: Histories of a Boy Soldier (Ch. IX - 03/06)

    Man this really is a great angle to read from, and you're getting across all the fear, brutality etc. really well.

    Greta update, and I'm sure some consequences will appear before too long...
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  13. #33

    Default Re: Histories of a Boy Soldier (Ch. X - 03/14)

    Quote Originally Posted by Rex Anglorvm View Post
    A brutal but sometimes effective form of leadership displayed by Abel there!
    Sadly, it is the way he must be. The R.U.F. were brutal, though I'm sure that goes without saying of most rebel factions proclaiming themselves freedom fighters, revolutionaries, etc, etc. For him to assert his own power, he must become as brutal as any other commander. Respect is earned in this faction by brutality. Abel is still coping with this aspect, which is why he's struggling, and torn between the morals he was raised on, by his family, and what he has been taught under Caesar's tutelage.

    Quote Originally Posted by Robin de Bodemloze View Post
    I have a feeling this will result in trouble later on. Nice update.
    There is certainly dissension among the ranks of the youth battalion. Every officer is a teenager, so every one of them think they are better than the other, it's not much different from how teenagers view themselves in competitive sports, I suppose. Except the circumstances vary tremendously, and the subject matter that their competition relates to here is an entirely different animal than who gets first pick at dodgeball as some high school, in the western world. lol

    The R.U.F. is an 'animalistic' faction where the most brutal, and cunning will lead. Obedience is a necessity, especially when it's youths involved, such as here. Abel has to jump through some hoops if he wants to unify the battalion as one.

    Quote Originally Posted by Shankbot de Bodemloze View Post
    Man this really is a great angle to read from, and you're getting across all the fear, brutality etc. really well.

    Greta update, and I'm sure some consequences will appear before too long...
    Without conflict, the story would lose it's edge, I imagine I'm hoping their conflict doesn't get too out of hand! There's a war to fight





    Chapter X
    X - Asserting Authority

    Moments later...


    On his way back to the church, Abel ran into Sy.



    "What the fk was that about?"

    "Old drama. This army is unorganized. Nobody believes in a central figure." Abel continued walking, as Sy looked back at Omry and his squad members, backpedaling slowly, to keep up with Abel, trying to be intimidating to them, as they looked back at him.

    Sy turned back around and kept up pace with Abel. Abel shook head, clearly frustrated by the situation. "We need to sort this all out. Omry, and Henry.. They can't be trusted. Neither one of them respects me."

    Sy put his arm up, in front of Abel, stopping him. "Listen, Cap. If you want them to respect you. You make them respect you. You just did, there. Omry needed another ass kicking and you gave him one." Sy took a deep breath, looking back across the immense courtyard towards Omry and his squad. "Those dudes, they need to be put in line. If not, they will be a risk to all of us. I don't need to sweat next time we move, just because one of those pks walking behind me with loaded rifles. It needs to stop. If we're not all unified, then we might as well surrender now. We either put Henry and Omry into submission, or we remove them from the equation altogether."

    Abel put his hands on his sides, and nodded his head, reflecting on Sy's words. "Caesar runs a tight ship. Nobody fks with him. Even Red takes orders from him, surprisingly. For some reason, he trusts me-."

    Sy cut him off. "Yeah, he does. Because he knows you have the ability to lead. None of us would have commanded that effectively, in the situation. You did, Abel. What we need to do now, is solidify your command over this rift raft. I talked to Jojo last night, he's got our back."

    "Good. We'll need it soon." Abel said reflecting on everything, still.

    "You did him solid. He owes you. And I think he's committed to your command, now. We need to ensure the other youth caps got our backs too."

    Abel peered into the muddy ground, lost in thought. He understood everything Sy was telling him, and he realized he had to solidify his position if he wanted to be the leader that Caesar believes him to be. Omry's disobedience during that battle had sent a clear message to his own squad, and other's paying attention. If one is out of control, then their all potentially unstable. Abel realized this had to change.

    The two continued walking, making small talk about their surroundings.

    "This place is a mess, I haven't seen Red yet." Sy said, pulling out another cigarette, and flaring up a match, as he copped his hands around the cigarette in his mouth, igniting it.

    "Yeah, maybe we need to be more proactive." Abel looked over, and spotted Samuel, the boy from Henry's squad, walking the four captives towards back to the holding area.

    "Sy. Collect the boys, get them some food. I will be back before long."

    Sy nodded, as Abel broke off from his walk, and proceed to intercept Samuel.

    "Samuel." He shouted, raising up his hand, once the boy gave his attention. "Wait up."

    The four captives stopped, with Samuel, and they waited. As Abel got closer, and reached Samuel, he looked to the captives. "What the fk are you doing. Keep walking." The four captives immediately turned and walked ahead. Abel waited until they were a good distance ahead, out of immediate earshot, and he put his hand behind Samuel's back, beckoning him to walk, as they walked the captives back to the holding area.

    Abel was quiet, at first, collecting his thoughts. Samuel didn't say a word either, waiting for Abel to speak.

    Samuel got up the courage to speak first. "What is it, First Captain?"

    "Samuel. Sam. I need you to be honest with me."

    "Of course, sir."

    "What do you think of Henry?" Able sighed, "Hellion." Abel said, looking around to see if they were being watch. He just had a subconscious feeling.

    "W‐well.." Samuel stuttered. "He's my commanding officer, sir."

    "Yeah. Formally, he is. But I'm his captain. Yours as well. I need you, Samuel. I need to know I can trust you."

    Samuel nodded his head repeatedly. It was definitely a lot that Abel was asking of him, and it was a lot to take in. But Abel read the boy's disposition.

    "Y-you.. You can trust me, sir."

    "Good. Good, Sam. I need to know. What does Hellion think of me. And be truthful."

    The boy looked to the ground, as if he was scared. Abel read it in his eyes, when he would look up, then quickly look away.

    "He doesn't like you, sir. I've seen him and Captain Omr-Original. I've heard them say it to one another."

    Abel held up his hand, signalling the boy to silence himself. He breathed in slowly, clinching his jaw, as the two of them kept walking, keeping their distance from the captives. He knew it would be a challenge to try and reform Henry, and Omry. He knew he had to make the change. He had to be ruthless. He had to assert his authority if he planned to survive in the R.U.F. He had to make a decision this day.

    They were still a good distance from the holding area, and they drew the attention of the two dozen army captives, down the narrow street they walked, towards a small courtyard.

    Abel knew at this moment, he had to overcome his insecurities, his fear of moral disapproval. He realized he must embrace his inevitable fate. This was his destiny. His chance to rise up, and be somebody. Quickly, everything Caesar had taught him in the months since his capture, and all that Sy has been reinforcing of Caesar's initial beliefs, and trust in him, and his chance to enhance his position further in the faction, it was clear, but still a blur.

    As they walked, he seemed to be collecting all his thoughts at that moment. He reflected a year back, it all flashed before him. It was as if for that moment, time slowed, and he processed his thoughts faster than the world moving around him. The images of his youth moved through his mind to fast for him to even catch more than a simple glimpse of a certain one.

    His mind stopped on one point in his youth. Just before the move to Sierra Leone. He was playing with his tiny Greek army model figurines. He lined all of the soldiers up, side by side, over a hundred of them. And at the front, he placed Alexander, and his Diadochi. He always loved Alexander, and his story. He put his Alexander figure before the phalangites, and would pretend he was the figurine, giving speeches in the like of glory, to his loyal soldiers. He never imagined the situation he would be in. Abel continued reflecting in the moment, he recalled the story he read, of Alexander's inner strife with his general staff.

    Alexander handled dissension in his ranks swiftly. His killing of Cleitus the Black, Parmenion, and Philotus. These were necessary actions in order to instill obedience in your other subordinates, to set an example forth. It was all so clear now. The cloud that complicated his thoughts faded away, temporarily. He had to harden his conscience, and do what was necessary to ensure, and maintain his power, even minimal at the moment, but his rise was coming. He can't let his good willed conscience control him. He was no longer Abel van de Kaans. He was First Captain Able.

    At that moment, he snapped out of subconscious thought. He looked up to the captives, having been only feet away from them by this point. The other captives, in the holding area eyed him down, some with grins, others with disdain. He had to change this. Respect was power. Respect was power, he recited in his mind.

    Abel reached over to Samuel, lifting the rifle strap off his shoulder, and over his head, and took the rifle firmly in both hands, he felt the wood of the gun stock firmly in his hand. He walked up to the last of the four captives entering the holding area, as several other rebel youths looked at him, he took the gun and charged at the last of the captives jabbing the gun stock into the captive's head. The captive let out a high pitched grunt, and dropped to his knees, his right hand dropping before him, holding himself up. His other hand extended out from his side, trying to balance himself.

    Abel had a twisted look on him, he gave off an aura of hatred at that moment, he bashed the stock of the rifle into the head of the captive, again. The captive dropped to the muddy ground, as the other captives looked on in surprise, some horrified. Abel went down on his two knees next to the captive. He repeatedly bashed the stock of the rifle into the back of the soldiers head, his face buried in thick mud. The captive's body intercepted every hit, his nerves jolted his entire body, as he received constant hits to his head. His skull split open, and Abel continued to bash it, mercilessly.

    Samuel looked on in horror, he was shocked. He couldn't control the tears streaming down his cheeks. The other rebels backed up, even the ones at some distance. They were all shocked. The captives backed away, quickly from Abel, and his victim.

    Abel's transformation was evident. He felt no desire of moral reprieve at that moment. He didn't flinch, or doubt himself during the entire ordeal. He had only hatred and fear in his eyes at that moment.

    The other rebels looked on, several began to smile, and laugh. Eventually, all of the ones present, save Samuel, were laughing. Their laughter grew hysterically. They cheered on Abel as he continued his vicious assault on the surely deceased captive.

    Abel finally stopped. The gun stock was red, and dripping with the captive's blood. All that remained of his head was a pile of mangled flesh, matter, and shards of skull. Abel couldn't draw his eyes away from it. He was breathing deeply. He knew what he had done, yet he felt no remorse, no regret. He was sure of himself, at least he tried to convince himself of it. But in actuality, he felt perplexed. He was able to force his eyes away from the mess. He looked around, into the eyes of the other captives. Then he looked over to the other rebels, still laughing.

    He looked back to the captives. He dropped the rifle, and backed up a few steps. He looked over to Samuel, seeing the young boy's horrified expression. Samuel partially snapped out of his shock, and realized he had tears down his face. Immediately, the embarrassed boy turned away from the captives he was tasked to watch, and he wiped the tears away.

    Abel staggered slightly, still in a bit of a shock himself. He walked over to Samuel, and put his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Go get some rest. Your watch is over. Tell Captain Hellion, it's my order, if he asks."

    "Y-yes. S-sir." The boy was still in a bit of a shock. He reached down to pick up his rifle.

    "Leave it." Abel said, waving his arm away, back towards the makeshift barracks that was Henry's squad's quarters.

    Samuel left, and Abel walked over to the rifle. He reached down, and picked it up. He slung the strap over his head, and rested the rifle on his shoulder. He held the shaft of the barrel in his hand, and just looked at the captives. No words could come to mind for something to say at that moment. He could just look, with nothing more than prolonged silence. He sniffed, and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. He looked over at the closest rebel. Then he turned, and walked away.

    As he was leaving, he heard a whistle. He looked over to the direction, and spotted a reaver. The man waved him over, and he proceeded to walk over to him.

    When he got closer, the reaver spoke. "Good job. The first of many good killings you will experience before this is all over." He smiled, while Abel said nothing, just looked at him with indifference. Abel knew the man wasn't kidding. The reavers were trained killers. Battle hardened, and experienced. They were a serious group.

    "The major wants to see you."

    "I figured."

    The two walked down a block, to a small medical office. It was a Red Cross clinic. They went inside, and there was Major Red, and two other reavers talking among themselves. The major looked up, his hands resting on the table, looking over a map of the region. He waved off the arriving reaver, and motioned for Abel to come closer.

    "First Captain. I'm going to make this quick. I have been ordered back to Lungi. There will be two more squads of youth troops arriving this afternoon." He lifted his arms up, and walked over to Abel. "You're in charge. See this place defended. Or it's your ass. You understand me?"

    "Yes sir." Abel replied, before correcting himself. "But.. What of the captives, sir?"

    "Dispose of them. We're too far from the mines to bother transporting them there. We need to focus on the task at hand. Holding the junction. They're just dead wait. We have enough mouths to feed here, without having to worry about them. Is that it?"

    Abel nodded. "Yes sir."

    "You will receive further orders when we decide where our next move is. Now get out."


    Abel nodded. He turned and walked out of the clinic. He walked over to a nearby diner shack. He leaned on the porch railing from outside. He suddenly felt sick to his stomach. He threw up in his mouth, and leaned over, spitting on the ground. He backed up, and turned, and leaned on the porch rails. His legs crumbled below him, and he sat against the porch. He wiped his mouth, and wiped his hand off on his pants. He put his hands out in front of him, his nerves were shot. He couldn't stop his hand trembles. He was a loss for thought, again. All he could do was put his head down, and escape from this nightmare, for a moment.
    Last edited by Dance; April 20, 2013 at 11:33 PM.

  14. #34

    Default Re: Histories of a Boy Soldier (Ch. X - 03/14)

    Chapter XI
    XI - Unification


    Several weeks later...


    It was high noon, the scorching January sun was beating down on them. They were lined up, row upon row, in the center of town. Most of the soldiers were accounted for in this gathering, save the several soldiers who were posted on key locations dotting the perimeter of the junction settlement. The soldiers were lined up along the east of the forked road junction, which connected the Bo-Kenema and Masiaka-Yonibana Highways. It was certainly a key position to hold. Any enemy supplies needed in the east of the country would have to be transferred, if by land, through this junction. The rebels have held it since their Christmas Day raid, the month before.

    There was utter silence. So silent, you could hear the droplets of sweat from their beating foreheads glide down the crease of their noses, and explode on the beating African dirt, below. First Captain Abel, who was most certainly just as hot as the rest of them, walked the line quietly. Flanking his right side, as he walked, and paced slightly behind him was his new lieutenant, Silas. Silas was most certainly the largest youth soldier, under Caesar's command. Abel had chosen him as his executive officer, after his display of excellent soldiery, and leadership skills, during the battle, several weeks earlier. Abel knew he could trust Silas with his life. Knowing full well the repercussions that would come without having proper loyalty in his subordinate ranks, Abel selected only his most loyal, and trusted friends as his near equals. There were, of course a few bad apples in his orchard...

    As Abel walked down the line, he made eye contact with Omry. He could see Omry's clinched jaw getting tighter with every moment that passed. He knew he could not trust the man. He had certainly unriddled him, after his display of false bravado during the battle, and his lack of ability to follow battle orders, Abel knew that Omry was likely to put a knife in his back, then to take orders in the heat of battle. He knew his scrap with Omry a few weeks earlier was far from over. He could see through the man. He knew that Omry was waiting for the perfect moment to take him down.

    Walking past him, Omry's eyes followed Abel, and Abel's locked onto Omry. Abel let slip a provocative grin as he passed by. He knew his best chance to remove Omry from the equation was to provoke him again. Omry lacked proper temperament, and control of his actions. It was only a matter of time before the two came at odds once more, and Abel knew it would be soon...

    "Captain Hellion, please step forward."

    Abel barked the command at Henry, and watched him the entire time. Henry too, finding it a very bitter taste to take orders from Abel, but had no choice, as Major Red left Abel in charge of the junction upon his departure, several weeks earlier.

    Abel turned back down the line, and walked towards Henry. Silas, ofcourse, was right by his side. He served as Abel's bodyguard, adviser, and confidante. He had just as much disdain for Omry, and Henry, as they had for Abel. Abel walked up, confronting Henry, eye to eye. The two youths nearly touched noses, in the confrontation before them.

    "Who's in charge here, Captain Hellion?" Abel questioned his subordinate captain, boastfully, and with a large grin.

    "You." Henry mumbled.

    Silas smiled, his overall expression for the mumbled response, hidden by his large Ray Ban glasses. His teeth shown, white as the pedals of an African white daisy flower. He put his head down, letting out muffled laughter, trying to control it. Silas walked up to Henry, and took off his Ray Bans. He gave Henry an intimidating, piercing stare. "Louder."

    Henry grew cross with the demand. "Quiet, you. You're not my superior." This time, he had said it loud enough for all to hear.

    Silas turned, looking to Abel. Abel nodded, and Silas turned back to Henry, simultaneously winding up his arm, and driving his fist clear into Henry's stomach. He knocked the wind right out of him, the impact sent Henry stumbling back, as he lost all balance, he fell onto the legs of two youth soldiers behind him. Neither assisted him. He grabbed the leg of one, trying to regain sifts of balance, he attempted to cough, but his breaths were too short, to quick, and he could not gasp for air quick enough. Finally he coughed, and slowly took in a little more are with each attempt. He pushed himself up, one knee down, and rested his weight on his other leg, trying to use it to push the rest of his body back up, but unsuccessfully.

    Silas crouched down, his arms crossed on his crouched knees, he held his Ray Bans still. He looked piercingly, still, right at Henry, or what seemed to be through the teen. He sniffed, and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. He looked around to the others, swiveling his head back, from one side to the other. Silas bent back upright, and looked down at Henry. Henry was beginning to stabilize himself, and try to get himself back up, and Silas lifted his leg, and put his foot on Henry's shoulder, and sent him right back to the ground again.

    Omry attempted to step forward, one of his squad members putting their arm to the side, forcing him to remain where he was lined up.

    Abel saw the motion, and walked down the line, ignoring Henry completely. Silas followed Abel, looking down at a helpless Henry, he snickered, and turned his attention to Omry, as well. Abel stopped, looking at Omry. "Something to say, Captain Original?" Abel put his arms out to his sides, palms upwards, as he swiveled his body slowly, side to side, in a mocking fashion, and just as mocking tone, "well, now's the time to say it. Speak your mind."

    Omry scrunched up his nose, a sort of reactionary facial movement, as if to stifle his actions. He dared not act out, seeing what was done to Henry. He put his head down, trying to contain his anger. He did nothing more, or even attempt to act out in that moment.

    "Yussef, Icarus, and Damo." Abel gathered their attentions. "Please step forward."

    Each of the boys moved forward, slipping past anyone in front of them, and moving a few paces ahead of the front line, where they stood, scattered, but inline with one another. The three of them just looked at each other, fearful for what was going to happen to them.

    "You three abandoned your posts, and got piss drunk last night." He shook his head, and spit on the ground before them. "Dereliction of duty will not be tolerated by any means. Your actions could have left a clear avenue for a counter offensive by the government. Consider this, your only warning." He raised his arm, and snapped his fingers.

    Two of the boys from Jo-Jo's squad, Jorde, and Buddha, approached, from behind Abel, and drew batons. The two boys went up to Icarus, and Damo, and cracked them in the back of the legs with the batons, causing them to drop to their knees. Innocent then ushered Yussef to a post, in the center of the courtyard. There, another boy, Tremaine, waited, and when Yussef got to the post, Tremaine grabbed his arms, and pulled him to the post, forcing him to hug the pole. His wrists were fastened around the post, and the ropes drawn tightly, to force as little movement as possible. Jorde put his baton away, and pulls out a switchblade. He grabbed Yussef's shirt, and tore at it, cutting the shirt straight down, and through, opening up the back.

    Silas put up his arm, and waved over a young boy. The boy quickly hustled over, carrying a whip. He handed it to Silas. Silas pulled on the rolled up whip with both arms, attempted to stretch it. He let the whip down, loosely dragged it back and forth, as he walked over the Yussef. The boy was screaming, he was no older than fifteen, that Abel was certain of, as he watched from a distance.

    "Ten lashes." Abel yelled. "Flagellation is one method of discipline here. A severe punishment. But this will be just a warning. If anyone ever abandons their post again. I don't care who you are. You will beg for the whip when I'm through with you." Abel looked to the two other boys, on their knees, both weeping uncontrollably. They whimpered and sobbed, but Abel showed them no pity. He could show them no pity. Pity, remorse, mercy... Weakness. He remembered as clear as day, the words of R.U.F. Leader, Foday Sankoh's book. Their actions last night could have cost him the junction, and his standing with Caesar, and his attempt to prove himself, coincidentally, with Major Red, who put some unsure faith in the boy's capability to command an important position without supervision. He knew this was his Thermopylae. To the last man he would defend the junction, and prove he was as capable a leader as Caesar has made him out to be.

    "Commence the punishment, Lieutenant."

    Silas pulled his arm back, and lashed forward, the whip cracking on the bare skin of Yussef's back. The boy let out a scream of pain. He lashed him a second time, and the boy had utterly broken down, without much of a fight. The agonizing pain tortured him, as each lash left a bloody tear on the boy's back. The scars of which, would never fade away.

    With the last lash, on Damo, the flagellation of the three was complete. The last boy's hands were untied, and his body dropped to the ground, his nerves shot. He sobbed slightly, but he had stopped screaming by the eighth, or ninth lash. He just seemed to accept the last couple, his punishment served.

    There was little doubt that Abel had not only the need to set an example for such a dangerous act as the three committed, but also because two of the boys were in Omry's squad, and the third, from Henry's. Abel had lost what little faith he had in the two captains. Their troops were emboldened, undisciplined, and unruly. This had to change, and Abel was keen on ensuring that it does.

    Slowly, Abel has built up his confidence in his command structure. Under him, directly, he had Silas. Below Silas, he had his other captains, Jo-Jo, Reynold (known as Captain Barracuda), and Innocent (known coincidentally as Captain Innocent). Also, considered top advisers, and confidantes of his, were Solomon, Musa, Remy, and Grady. Grady was calm, collective, and keen to make his name known as well. Within the first week of Abel's command, Grady had propelled himself forwards, his ambitions clear as day, ascending to a Captain himself. The boy would need to be tested more before he could be fully trusted in Abel's tight circle of troops trusted.

    Abel turned to two boys, waiting idly nearby. "Get them out of my sight."

    The two boys hastily moved to drag away the last of the whipped boys. Silas was rolling up the whip, and started walking with Abel back to their command post.

    LATER THAT NIGHT...

    It was well past midnight, and most of the camp was asleep. The guard postings had none of Henry, or Omry's soldiers posted that night, a purposeful arrangement. Both squads were well asleep. One of Omry's boys was a sleep in a sleeping bag, on the front porch of the squad's sleeping quarters. There was an eerie quietness throughout the junction. Several boys were creeping around the porch, towards the stairs. They silently ascended the steps, the sleeping boy, dreaming deeply. Within a heartbeat, they were on him. Three boys held him down, one with a knife to his throat. The one who put the knife, pulled his finger to his lips, and motioned for the boy to be quiet. There was utter fear on the boy's face.

    A few more boys went onward, to the front door, they opened it slowly, so to not wake any of the occupants inside. They filed in, atleast a dozen other boys, outnumbering Omry's squad, two to one.

    Each had their assigned boy to restrain. Given the signal, by Silas, the boys pounced on their targets, some with guns, and others with knives, they held them all at gun, and knife point. Omry was grabbed by two boys, one on each arm, pinning him to the ground, strewn upon his back. A dark figure approached. He bent down, and the moonlight coming through the window revealed it to Omry, as Silas. Silas just smiled at him, holding a buck knife to his throat. "Wakey, wakey."

    The boys were dragged out of the barracks, one by one, where a half dozen others waited outside the barracks, armed.

    Simultaneously, commotion was heard across camp, from Henry's squad's quarters. They were dragged out, just as well, by a large group of other youth troops. Henry's squad was dragged over to where Omry's was being held.

    Omry was thrown down, in the dirt, separated from the rest of his squad.

    "Oh you mother frs are going to pay for-"

    Silas walked over to him, and kicked him in the stomach. He grabbed Silas, and pulled himself up. But Silas, massive in size, and far stronger than Omry, overpowered him with little difficulty, and held his arms to his side, he headbutted Omry in the face, sending him to drop backwards, blood expelling profusely from Omry's nose.

    Silas, emboldened, walked closer to Omry, circled the boy, as he held his nose, and the blood poured through the boy's fingers, but Silas could do nothing but smile at the situation that has unfolded. He kicked him in the back, and Omry reacted naturally, releasing his nose to grab his own back, as the blood was still pouring out. He put up his arm, "Stop, please." Silas took Omry's arm, twisted it, and kicked it at the elbow joint, breaking Omry's arm. The boy let out a screeching whelp, as half the boys laughed, and cheered Silas on, half looked on in terror.

    By this point, all of Henry's squad, himself included, were thrown to the ground, in front of the spectacle, to watch Omry's helpless beating. Silas grabbed him by hair, lifted his torso up, by the hair, Omry was whimpering, letting go occasional, random yelling sounds. Silas drove his fist into Omry's broken nose, the boy let out a loud screech, and dropped to the ground, barely moving. The boys continued to cheer him on. By this point, Abel pushed through some of the boys watching, and held his hand up, to silence them, and stop Silas' remorseless beating. They all stood attention, Silas as well.

    Abel just stood there, his right hand clasping his left wrist behind his back, he was fully adorned in military outfit, that befits his status as a youth captain. He had two connected bronze bars, instead of the stereotypical connected dual silver bars. This represented his position as lesser than an adult officer, of the same rank, making him just slightly subordinate. But most present treated him as they would the R.U.F. Battlefield Commander.


    Abel walked upto Omry, and stared down at him, his arms still clasped behind his back. He looked at him for a few moments, the boy barely able to move. Omry just looked back at him, but his stare was hatred, disdain. Perhaps it was regret, for his inability, or carelessness to dispose of the man, months prior. Abel could see the hatred, as he always did. Even now, five months after their capture, in Moyamba, Abel had shown general indifference to Omry, a feeling not quite mutual, he assumed.

    Omry spit out blood, onto Abel's boot, looking up at him, as if waiting to be struck again. Silas had fury in his eyes, he so desperately wanted to finish Omry off. Perhaps it was Omry's wish, to end the pain, and die at that point. However, Abel had alternative plans for him.

    "He will live. For now. He will suffer from his wounds. He will starve, and perhaps disease will set in, and take him slowly. Either way, his misery will not end tonight. That is my final word on the matter." He looked to Henry, and then his eyes scoured the two squads. "It's your choice. You were all fine before serving Omry, and granting him your allegiance. I ask you now, give me yours. Give me yours, and see this not happen to any of you. We are more likely to survive this, as a single unit. Not divided sects. I would recommend you consider this, as it will be my one, and only offer to each of you."

    The boys just looked among themselves, none daring to say a word, for fear of saying the wrong thing.

    Henry just looked at a bloody, and beaten Omry, and spoke up. "I pledge my allegiance, and that of my squad, undoubtedly to First Captain Able."

    The rest of the boys were stunned by the sudden change of heart. One of Omry's closest personal allies, and supporters, and effectively his subordinate, if they divided as such, had relinquished his support for Captain Original. The rest of the boys all nodded, and agreed, from his squad. Abel, Silas, and others turned to Omry's squad. The boys all nodded, and Leon, Omry's squad subordinate stood up, without restraint from his captors. "I too. I too pledge my allegiance, to First Captain Able." Following suit, all of the boys in Omry's squad unanimously relinquished their personal allegiances.

    Omry stirred, on the ground, spitting out a pile of more blood, he mumbled. "Traitors." The voice faint. "Cowards." He said as little louder. "Cockroaches. Pigs. Backstab-" Silas swiftly ended the rant with another kick to the stomach. Henry's eyes straightened. He was furious at what Omry was calling him.

    "From this moment forward, I strip Captain Original of his rank, as youth captain." He looked to Leon. "You will lead the squad, in his stead. Remove any, and all insignia from his belongings. He is to be isolated, and left to rot in the dirt, under watch." He looked to Captain Jo-Jo. "Your squad will perform watch duty." Jo-Jo nodded, in return.

    "Captain Barracuda. You will rotate a soldier in, with Captain Innocent's squad, in the stead of Captain Jo-Jo's, for watching the captives."

    Two of Jo-Jo's soldiers walked over to Omry, and dragged the boy, by his feet, through the dirt, to his makeshift holding area, which was prepared earlier.

    Abel eliminated dissension for the time being, he dispatched the watchmen to their designated positions, and the rest back to sleep. Pulling Leon, and Henry aside, with Silas, Remy, Innocent, and Jo-Jo remaining, the three stood idly nearby, following from a distance, as Henry, and Leon walked, with Abel between them.

    "I need to know i can count on your undeniable support. It is essential, in these next few months."

    Leon spoke first. "Ofcourse. I never liked the mother fr anyways. He belittled the rest of us, thought he was so much better. It's justice served, if you ask me."


    "And what about you?" Abel said, turning his attention to Henry, in anticipation for a response.

    Henry hesitated, but nodded. "Y-yeah. Yeah. You have my support, and that of my squad's, First Captain."

    "Good. Both of you, dismissed, return to your respective quarters."


    The two boys, side by side, walked away, back towards their quarters. Abel watched, with Silas standing right next to him. "I don't trust them. Yet." Abel said, leaning his head slightly towards Silas, but keeping his eyes on the two departing captains. "See to it that these two are watched constantly."

    "Understood, Captain." Silas spoke, a clear sense of assurance in his tone.


    The boys all broke their own separate ways... One thing was clearly achieved that night. The elimination of separation, within the unit, at the junction. Abel had unified the youth troops, for the time being..
    Last edited by Dance; April 20, 2013 at 11:24 PM.

  15. #35

    Default Re: Histories of a Boy Soldier (Ch. XI - 03/28)

    Nicely done with the show of leadership. MOAR please
    Last edited by Robin de Bodemloze; March 29, 2013 at 06:38 AM.
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  16. #36
    Rex Anglorvm's Avatar Wrinkly Wordsmith
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    Default Re: Histories of a Boy Soldier (Ch. XI - 03/28)

    I've just caught up with the last two chapters, it seems that Abel is now leaving any moral scruples behind...rep+

  17. #37

    Default Re: Histories of a Boy Soldier (Ch. XI - 03/28)

    Chapter XII
    Chapter XII – Preparations

    “What happened to him?” Silas demanded.

    “Not quite sure, Sir. He-he was fine l-last night, but I don’t know. This morningwell we thought he was sleeping, butI’m not sure, Sir.” One of the boys guarding him had said, as he looked over to the other guard and shook his head, in disbelief.


    “Well… He’s dead now.” Silas said, looking at the two boys. “Your shift’s over. Go.” He said, then turning to the two relief guards who came after. “You two, your watch won’t be needed, however you will need to dispose of the body.” Silas pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, and covered his nose. The stench of rot was strong, in the mid-morning heat.

    “Go find Captain Able. He will want to see this.”

    One of the two hurriedly ran towards the command post.

    MINUTES LATER

    “Jesus.” Abel remarked, as he entered the fenced off holding area. He walked up the corpse, and crouched beside him. He stared right into the corpse’s wide open eyes. “Goodbye, Omry.”
    Abel smirked, standing up. He looked over to Silas, and the others standing idly by. “Dispose of him.”

    Abel walked over to Silas, as the two boys went in, hesitantly, with gloves on, they argued over who would carry which ends of the corpse. Abel and Silas began walking away.

    “Well, that’s one less headache. We should have seen it coming. He’s been sobbing for over a week. I’m actually kind of surprised he’s lasted this long, in that condition.” Abel said, wiping his hand off on his shirt.

    “Now these other two jokers.” Silas spoke up, clearly speaking about Henry, and Omry
    's former subordinate, Leon. “We divided the squads up, but it’s been whispered those two often go for long walks together at night. The sentries spotted them leaving the boundaries of the settlement, on several occasions in the past fortnight.”

    “Worry not, their scared sless, now. I wouldn't be too worried. They saw Omry
    's fate. Neither one of them would benefit from my elimination, so I don’t see it as a viable option for them.” Abel spoke, sure of his words.

    “I’m more concerned about what our next step will be. These sobels have been in the eastern province for too long. It’s been weeks since their expected return. I’m growing impatient. This doesn't seem as desirable as the Major thought it was. Perhaps we miscalculated the value of controlling this junction.”

    “The state radio said that the government is deciding its next move in containing the R.U.F., but the B.B.C. said Captain Strasser is making few moves to end the war. Their statements contradict one another, but then again, the government does control the state media, so I suppose they will pretend like they have the balls to stop us. They say he’s more caught up in refurnishing his new presidential country villa, and riding in his new state limo. Freetown thinks the revolution will never reach them, but our progress is steady, and undeniable.” Silas said, smiling.

    Abel did not say a word, but the two continued to walk in relative silence back to the command post. Inside, the roof fan was going full blast, as well as several floor fans, trying to cool down the building, as the temperature had now begun climbing, near midday. Abel seated himself at his desk, in the back of the one-room command headquarters, at the new base. Silas sat in a chair on the opposite side of the desk. Remy was clipping his nails, leaning against the wall, near them, and Solomon had his pinky finger dug into his ear.

    Abel noticed it, and spoke up, “Solo, have you run third and fourth squad through drills recently?”

    Solo shook his head. “This morning, as usual, Cap.”

    “Take them for a run.”

    “Did their run, this morning.”

    “Well, take them for another. I’m not going to let these boys lollygag around lazily, and get caught up in mischief. We’re going to be ready for where Caesar sends us next.”

    “When was the last you heard from Caesar, anyways, Cap?” Silas asked.

    “It’s been over a month. It’s usually Usengi who sends word. 'Patience, patience, patience'. I tire of hearing it. If they didn't think this was such an important position, I would have had the initiative to mount an offensive by now. This is such a waste of our resources. This goddamn junction. It’s been two months, and the boys are getting lazy.” Abel said, opening his desk drawer, and pulling a file out, throwing it on the desk.

    Remy and Solomon approached the desk, and Silas leaned in to view. Abel opened the folder. “These are some additions we’ll be implementing in the second phase of the defenses here. We might as well be creative if we’re going to be stuck here for awhile. I've got tasks lined up for each squad. The camp will be divided up. The government didn't do such a good job of that when we took this place months ago. Their coordination was simplistic and miscalculated. They had no proper defenses set up.

    The towers are useless. Open targets with the thick bush around here. Instead, we will have two man teams set up, to cover eachother
    s back, and ensure that every position is as well guarded as possible. The safety in numbers will also ensure survival, in many cases.

    It’ll be up to each captain to decide who’s to be paired with eachother. We have six squads. A total of eighty defenders, captains included. This allots us some room for strategic planning.”


    Abel licked his finger and flipped a few pages. He stopped about a half dozen pages in, and placed his index finger on a drawn diagram. It was a foot deep outcrop, retrofitted with a custom trapdoor.

    “There will be two trap doors per squad, each manned by one man. Likely if an attack does come, it will be at night, if their smart, as ours worked to catch them off guard. Their not fools, they think we're just incapable children. They will attempt to take us by surprise. Each position will be manned at all times. This will give us an element of surprise, in our arsenal. Shifts will begin at six hours each. Every thirty-six hours, one of the boys will do a six hour shift. Not a lot to ask, but a necessary implementation.”


    “Do you think this is all necessary, Cap?” Solomon said, unsure if it had been thoroughly thought out.

    “Yes, it is Solomon. Silas and I have been brainstorming ideas for a few days now. This one will be a great defensive mechanism to deploy when it best suits, in the chaos of an assault. They will likely hit with heavy armor, should they deploy such in retaking the junction. After all, we are watching a highway. It wouldn't be difficult for them to deploy armor.

    That brings me to my next implementation…

    Concrete slabs, being used as makeshift anti-tank blocks. You've seen them spring up, a few here, a few there. Within the next week or two, that addition will be complete.

    We've also acquired these.”
    Abel carefully placed a duffel bag onto the table. A light clacking was heard. He unzipped the duffel bag, and inside were beer bottle-like canisters.

    “These are PROM-1 Yugoslavia-designed anti-personnel mines.” He looked around to their faces, and smirked. “Partially bury them, line them, and we’re good to go. Our friends in Liberia have been kind enough to supply thousands of these to the revolution. We have acquired some of these bad boys, and I intend to use them.”

    By this point, most of the captains had filtered into the meeting. Able had started without full attendance, but continued nonetheless.

    “Mines, roadblocks, gun nests. We are twice as prepared as the government was. But as far as my knowledge, provided by my superiors, the government is going, in the near future, attempt to retake this junction. It won’t happen. That I can guarantee you, gentlemen.”

    “As of tomorrow morning, training will double. Supplies have become abundant, and we will put them to use effective immediately. For the extra training, all of the troops will be well supplied. You've all be tasked with scheduling duties as per the changes in our defenses, for your designated squads. You've each been assigned a section of the rebuilt settlement. I want you to ensure your soldiers become familiar with it. It will mean the difference when we’re attacked again. The government, I assume, has a relatively clear picture of the terrain around the junction, and the architecture inside it, pre-battle. Let’s not be caught with our junk exposed. I would rather not spend the rest of the war in an intern camp, or worse…”

    Abel looked around at all the young faces, he was but a youth himself, and most the captains older than him, but he felt a sense of maturity that vast exceeded their own. He had grown into quite a remarkable leader in recent months, and he knew that the first battle was a good test of this leadership, but now, he would have a harder task to complete, and that would be the successful defense of that same junction. He had to prove he can lead in many aspects, not just as a secondary. He viewed the original victory as Major Red’s doing. He was shadowed, clearly, by Major Red, and his equals, in the other squads. This was his command now, however, and he intended to succeed not just with minimal success, but wholly, if possible.

    SEVERAL DAYS LATER…

    “The wire attaches like this, but you must be careful not to tug to hard, or you’ll lose that prettyboy face of yours.” The explosives technician joked.

    “So you were in the army, at one point?”

    “Yes sir, served with the 5th engineers.” The man continued tuning the wire just right, taking a small break to wipe the sweat off his forehead, with his forearm. “Eight years I worked as an explosives specialist, but the money was never right.” He stops, leaning back, and turns to Abel, and winks. “But Sankoh and his boys, they pay better.” He laughs, going back to tuning the mine.

    “Where you headed from here?” Abel asked, continuing the conversation.

    “Back southeast, my guess. Their deploying hundreds of these suckers all over the east of the country, but there’s only a handful of specialists connected to the reb-“ The man stops his sentence. “Revolution.” He says, correcting himself, while continuing to work.

    “The government lacks the proper coordination, training, and equipment to properly handle this type of combat. It’ll be their downfall, as this will end up costing them more than proper measures to counteract it, or so the big bosses predict.”

    Abel listened, but remained silent. The man had finished up tuning the mine.

    “That just about does it. There’s over one hundred mines now on this junction. They've been marked accordingly with white ticks on trees, rocks, and whatnot. But to be on the safe side, I would have your boys avoid any of the danger areas indefinitely. Take no risks. The government will clear these out quickly, and effectively, soon enough.” He said winking, as he wiped his hands together, and grabbed his toolkit, and bag.

    “Excellent. Thank you for your assistance.”

    “I serve where the money is.” The man says, before turning and walking back to meet with the other technicians provided from the rebel high command.

    Silas walks over to Abel. “All is in place. The traps dug, the mines placed, the blocks nearly all moved together. This is a fortress, Cap.”

    “We’ll need it, I’m sure. The government won’t be able to mess this up. Their suffering throughout the country, their resources expended. They need to take this junction back, or forever lose it. Unless some foreign intervention comes. But I don’t see that likely, anytime soon, according to Usengi.”

    “Well, almost three months we've been here, and I imagine it’s only a matter of time. They've certainly regrouped now, and we are as prepared as we can be for a counterattack. But the boys are ready for this. We've drilled them hard, we've restricted their indulgences, and we've rehearsed the plans over and over. There’s nothing else to do except continue drills, and wait for the attack, Cap.”

    Abel cupped his right elbow in his left hand, and stroked his chin, inquisitively.
    “I don’t imagine it will be far away. Time will tell, my friend. Time will tell.”
    Last edited by Dance; April 12, 2013 at 10:10 PM.

  18. #38

    Default Re: Histories of a Boy Soldier (Ch. XII - 04/12)

    Bravo! I really like the way you build up the atmosphere - it's every man for himself and that comes through nicely in the narrative. Really good stuff.
    The Wings of Destiny - A FotS AAR (Chapter 12 - Updated Apr 24)
    Takeda - a Shogun 2 AAR (Completed) Reviewed by Radzeer

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  19. #39

    Default Re: Histories of a Boy Soldier (Ch. XIII - 04/18)

    Quote Originally Posted by Robin de Bodemloze View Post
    Bravo! I really like the way you build up the atmosphere - it's every man for himself and that comes through nicely in the narrative. Really good stuff.
    Abel's coming quick to an ultimatum, evidently If he's serious about advancing through the ranks, he has to enhance his brutal methodology, and asset maximum authority, which in-turn will grant him renown respect! But what will happen??

    My 5,000 word chapter:

    Chapter XIII
    Chapter XIII - Weeding Out the Turncoats


    To sustain leadership, one mustn't hesitate to enact a brutal, and methodical form of leadership, to instill obedience in his ranks. The institution of extreme forms of punishment, zero tolerance for insubordination, and the continuation of often repetitive, but necessary training regimen, was the key to success.

    Violence only begets more violence. However, violence is the test of one man’s will to go beyond what is considered morally acceptable by the sheep standards of a weak society. One must be willing to assert absolute control, and dominance in order to ensure his continued leadership.

    Empires are forged by what is morally considered questionable violent initiatives…


    There was a knock at the door. Abel had his legs crossed, and he kept his body several inches off the ground, with his arms, held up straightly, upon clenched fists. He lowered his body, and uncrossed his legs, pushing himself up, while closing R.U.F. leader, Foday Sankoh’s book.

    What is it. Abel blurted, annoyed by the interruption.

    A young boy entered. “Sorry, Captain. An urgent message from Lungi, it’s on your desk for you, Sir.”

    Abel waved the boy away with a blatant swat motion, with his arm. The boy saluted immediately, and withdrew from the doorway, and down the hall.

    Abel walked slowly to the back of his room. It was a relatively simple room for his position as commanding officer at the junction base, but he didn't covet the luxurious accommodations that many other rebels attempted to obtain. For him, it was respect. Honor. Duty. He viewed his stance as cliche as it sounds, but he felt strongly about the opportunity he had been given.

    He looked out his window, right out to the thick forest behind the building, and he wondered, was his family okay? Were they still in Moyamba, protected by the Kamajors, and government forces there? How was his brother, Jon? Where was he? Was he still in Lungi? Had his unit been re-positioned Or worse perhaps… There were too many questions he needed answering, but no time to truly consider the outcomes fully, himself. He had a lot of weight on his shoulders, especially in the next few weeks, and he needed to persevere in the tests ahead. There was no way back, he had already considered the options, but narrowed the decisions down to one. He must move forward. He is not the boy he was, seven months earlier, when he was captured, and integrated into the ranks of the R.U.F.

    He looked up into the sky. It had been a clear day, and the sky was blue, with few clouds. It was yet another hot day, now April. He was within weeks of his thirteenth birthday, yet his experience the past few months had convinced him he was twice that. He had so much responsibility before him, yet he couldn’t fail now.

    He snapped out of his own deep thought trance, and placed the book inside the open drawer, and shut it closed. He went to the hook behind his bedroom door, and retrieved his vest, slinging it over his shoulders, with just a simple olive-colored wife beater. He got his pants from off his bed and climbed into them. He zipped up, buttoned up, then fastened his belt. Lastly, he stepped into untied military issue boots, and grabbed the simple olive cap, with only his insignia stitched on the right side of it, he placed it on frontwards, and lugged his feet, with the heavy, untied boots, out of his room, and down the hallway.

    Entering the main room, with his desk ahead of him, he walked over, under the watchful eyes of Silas, among others.

    “There’s a letter for you, Cap. Direct from Lungi.”

    Abel was worried, as he wanted to please the rebel high command, however, he tried never to show expressions, as they could too easily be manipulated by his enemies.

    He walked over the desk, drew his fastened buck knife, from its belt-mounted sheath, and opened the envelope. He withdrew the letter, and unfolded it. He began to read it, showing no expression. His close knit entourage was keen to see the letter, but none could draw in close enough to read it.

    Abel continued to lower his eyes, quicker and quicker, as he read it. He folded it up, drew a lighter, and lit the letter, tossing it into the empty garbage can beside him.

    Silas, as usual, was the first to inquire. “What is it?”

    Abel got up, and walked around the desk. He passed right by Silas, and even brushed his shoulder against Remy, who backed off immediately, stepping aside.

    Abel walked out, of the command post, and headed across the courtyard, followed closely by his loyal entourage.

    There were boys training, under Musa, and Solomon’s direction, doing push-ups using their rifle, trying to balance on their rifles, a difficult exercise it was. After passing them, as Solo, and Musa looked on suspiciously, and then passing Jo-Jo, who was doing up-downs with his troops, while jogging in place, the boys profusely sweating, but paying little attention to Abel.

    Henry was talking with two boys from his squad, and upon seeing Abel approach, the two boys stepped back slightly, Henry still with his back turned, turning shortly thereafter, when he realized someone was walking up behind him, based on the expressions from his squad members. He turned. “Abel.” A smile lit up his face.

    Abel failed to stop, and grabbed Henry by the scruff of his shirt, lunging forward, as Henry tripped beneath himself, he fell back, toppling, as Abel fell on top of him. “Where is he!” Abel shouted with an intense fury in his voice. He was seeing red, by that point, his veins protruding on his forehead, and his neck. “Tell me where he is or I’ll cut your fing dick off!”

    The boy was petrified, no longer that slick, smart ass he had a reputation for, a common trait among the boys, emboldened by their positions as fully fledged soldiers now.

    Drawing his buck knife, he put it to Henry’s throat, pressing it into his neck, a trim of blood formed, dripping a little from one side down his neck. “I- I d-don’t know Abe – Cap!” He quickly corrected himself.

    “I swear to God, Henry, I swear to Him above, that if you don’t tell me, Omry’s death will be quick compared to what I will do to you.”

    One of the boys in Henry’s troops took a step forward, but Captain Innocent was quick to step forward, and grab the boy by the neck, forcing him down onto his knees, near immediately. The boy held out his hands, a tear rolling down his face, from his flooded eyes.

    The other boy was in a state of shock, and didn't move a muscle, with eyes on him.

    “I swear C-cap, I d-don’t know.” Henry stuttered relentlessly to spit out the words.

    Abel drew the knife from Henry’s throat, and put the tip up to his eye, nearly touching it. Henry was so petrified, his senses didn't react, he kept his eyes open. “I will cut your eyes out, and then cut your lying tongue out, worm. Tell me where he is, and I might spare your traitorous life.”

    Just then, a boy darted out of a structure, about fifty feet ahead, and Abel caught it with his eye. He immediately pursued, backed by a half dozen other boys. Henry swiveled around on the ground, attempting to see where they were running, and a foot stepped on his shoulder blades pressing him to the ground.

    “Don’t move.” Silas said, sternly.

    Abel was quick for his age, due in part to years of playing football had enhanced his stamina, and agility. The boy was identifiable now, to others who had not read the letter, it was Omry’s former subordinate trying to flee the camp. Abel wasn't about to let that happen. His adrenaline gushed throughout his body, he felt super human for a few moments, and he was quickly gaining on the boy, as the boy darted into the bush, trying to evade capture, Abel was quick on him, no more than twenty feet behind. Slowly, but surely, he was gaining.

    Abel was keeping up, leaping over fallen logs, and scattered brush, but keen to catch him. Leon made a foolish turn, around a dead tree, trying to cut a different direction, but Abel wouldn't be fooled so easily, and he read the move, and headed the short cut to the right, as Leon bent around. Abel put all his power into the jump, aiming directly at Leon, he tackled him hard to the dirt.

    Leon was on his side, and Abel landed a powerful punch, with all his force behind him, right at the side of Leon’s head. And another one followed, followed by another one, he turned him onto his back, and his fury was being unleashed on Leon’s face.

    The other boys had finally caught up, and they attempted to restrain Abel, but he fought through it, delivering another blow to Leon’s head. They finally pulled him off, taking four of them to restrain him. “We need him, Abel! We need him!” Remy shouted at Abel, as the other four restrained him to the ground.

    “Traitorous fk” Abel blurted, spitting on Leon’s battered body. The boy was still alive, despite losing a couple teeth, and having a few cuts on his face, a split lip, and a broken nose.

    Remy grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt, and lifted his limp torso up, slightly. The head leaning back, lazily. “Did you think you would benefit, from being a traitor?” Remy had sounded as though he knew what was behind Abel’s accusations, but he figured it had something to do with the letter, that was obvious.

    “Talk, fool.” Remy slapped Leon, grilling him for information. “Talk, you pathetic fk.”

    Remy slapped him again, harder this time. Grabbing him by the collar of the shirt, with both hands, he lifted him further off the ground. “Talk!” He shouted at the top of his lungs. The boy was not willing to divulge anything at that moment, it was clear.”

    “You just signed your own death warrant, traitor.” He spit in Leon’s face, at point blank range, and head-butted him, releasing his collar, and the boy laid there, appearing near lifeless.

    Abel got up, with the help of the others. He stroked his hand through his hair, getting it out of his face, he was covered in sweat. He adjusted his pants, and shirt. His knife sheath had fallen off, and was handed to him, picked up by one of the other boys, and he reattached it to his belt. He dusted himself off, wiping his shirt, and pants. He took a deep breath, staring down at Leon.

    “Take him to the isolated holding area.” He demanded.

    Innocent, and Barracuda moved to grab him.

    “Wait – take him to the general holding.” He quickly changed his mind. Clearly he had intentions for the captives to see what was to be done with him.

    The boys reached down, one by each arm, deciding how to carry him back to camp. Abel grabbed Innocent, shoving him aside. The boy stood back. Abel looked down at Leon, the boy was blinking, and looking back. Abel smiled, for a quick second, wiping his nose, he then delivered a straight kick to Leon’s face, the boy’s face jerked aside instantly, an explosion of bloody saliva erupting from his bloodied mouth. He stepped one foot back, then away from Leon, walking back to camp, the others followed – save Innocent and Barracuda, who lifted the boy up, and began hauling him back to camp.


    LATER THAT NIGHT


    A light cord was pulled, and a single light came on. Leon was seated in a chair, in the middle of the room. His hands, and feet, bounded to the chair. He had regained full consciousness by that point. Silas stood in front of him. Remy and Grady were also present. A door was heard outside, in the hall, leading to the room. Then another door opened, the one to that room, and Abel walked in, with Solomon behind him. Solomon shut the door, and Abel walked up to the front, and confronted Leon, who looked at him, with a slight decline in his head.

    Abel stood there in silence, looking at him, for a moment. “We’re only doing this once, Leon. I’m not going to walk through bullst. If your honest with me, you get a clean death. If you lie, if you hesitate, if I think you’re even remotely telling me falsities, I will make this long. I will make this painful.”

    Wasting no time, he began. “Who are you aligned too?”

    Leon didn't speak, just continuing to look at him.

    Abel smirked, shaking his head slightly, he walked closer. He snapped his fingers, and Grady pulled a beat up wooden cart over, with a filthy rag on it, covering something beneath.

    Leon’s eyes then fixated on the cart, unsure what to make of it.

    “Who are you protecting, Leon.”

    Leon looked back to Abel, but still, no words came out.


    Abel looked to Grady, who then removed the rag off the cart top. Underneath were makeshift tools, including pliers, a standard straight blade knife, a thin iron rod – sharpened at the tip, two pairs of tweezers, wire cutters, a jug of water, an empty cup, and some pain killing anesthetics.

    “Again, who's plotting, Leon?” Abel asked, growing impatient.

    The boy didn't respond, and so Grady retrieved the knife off the table, and he grabbed Leon’s shirt, and cut through it, opening it down the middle, throwing the flaps open.

    Holding the knife in one hand, he retrieved the pliers, with the other. He clipped his right nipple. He then put the knife up, as he pulled the nipple out slightly.

    Leon had not wanted to see the outcome from this, and broke. “Henry. Henry is the mastermind behind it all. Well – since Omry’s death. I was just a pawn. I swear, I don’t know anything else. I was just following my –“ Abel leaned forward, and stuck a rag in Leon’s mouth to shut him up. He took the knife from Grady and drove it into Leon’s chest. Leon let out a bloodcurdling squeal, and Abel pulled it out quickly, jabbing him in the chest again. Remy slowly took off his sunshades, which he wore all the time, he looked over to Silas, who didn't make eye contact back, and he looked to Grady who just breathed in deeply, and kept his composure. None of them could really believe Abel capable of such brutality.

    Leon was mumbling stifled screams, in utter pain. Abel had no remorse, he held his hand over Leon’s mouth, with the rag still inside. He continually withdrew the knife, and stabbed him again, and again. After over a half dozen stabs, he let Leon’s head bob down, the last sifts of life slipping from the boy.

    “A traitor’s fate.” He said, turning to the others, while pulling the rag out of Leon’s mouth and threw it over his head.

    Silas stepped forward. “Henry’s in the next room, Cap.”

    Abel nodded, placing the bloodied knife onto the cart and he then walked out, followed by Silas, and Remy.

    Grady began to clean up, and as the boys walked out, two boys standing guard outside the room entered to dispose of the body.

    The boys walked down the hall, to another door, and entered it. Inside, a boy named Toddric waited, by a bounded Henry.

    Henry was scared to death at that moment, he heard commotion from the next room, through the paper thin tin walls, silenced just as quickly as it had occurred. Behind them, a boy brought in the cart from the next room, and brought it up to Henry. The rag was removed, showing the bloodied knife used to kill Leon. Henry’s eyes widened and he began shaking his head, staring right at the blade.

    “N-no, Abel. First Captain.” He shifted his sight to Abel, who now stood in front of him. He looked to Silas, and to Remy, and Toddric. He swallowed, his throat parched, his mouth dry as a bone. He had not had any water or food all day. He looked back at the knife, despite a relatively empty stomach, Henry leaned to the right, and puked onto the ground, tears rolling down his face. His eyes welled up just as quickly as he realized what had happened.

    “W-where’s – where’s Leon?”

    Abel stepped a foot closer to Henry. “Do you really mean to ask that?” He said, smiling.

    Abel bent down, and looked Henry in the eyes. “An odd sight, not seeing you smile. Certainly a rare occurrence.” He straightened up again.

    “Your ‘pawn’ informed us that he answered to you. Valid – this most certainly could be true as he took his orders previously from Omry, and held onto his pocket lining, but you? Whatever did he take orders from you for? You were Omry’s bh. His right hand, in more ways then one.” Abel said, cracking a smile. The others present all smirked momentarily at the jest.

    “Now, your alone, Henry. No more pawns, no more allies in this camp. Well, not for long anyways.” Abel put his hands together, and over his mouth, a motion for deep thought. “What did you hope to gain from this? My ousting from acting commander in the Major’s stead? Is it the fact you couldn't take orders from a white boy?” Abel stared him straight in the eyes, subconsciously shaking his head. “Well, Henry. Here we are.” His arms extended upwards, and he swiveled his torso slightly, side to side. “You think you got what it takes to lead this lot? Okay then.”

    Abel snapped his fingers twice, and motioned, by pointing, for Toddric to remove the bounds. Toddric proceeded to do as ordered. After being released, Henry cupped his left wrist with his other hand, and rubbed it in a circular motion, as he had been bound most of that day.

    “Get up.” Abel ordered him, taking the knife off the table, and the filthy rag, and wiping it clean. He jabbed the knife into wooden cart top, and walked away from it, into the open area of the room. He unfastened his own knife, and wrapped his hands around the hilt of it, tightly. He motioned with his hand for Henry to come out to the center of the room.

    Henry grabbed the hilt of the knife in the table, and jerked it free, and slowly walked out, eyeing down the spectators, only three others. Grady, Solo, and two other boys entered the room at that point, waved over by Abel. The boys all approached hesitantly.

    Henry and Abel now had an audience. Abel wanted others to see the duel being egged on by him.

    Henry walked to the front of the room, the knife firmly in his hand.

    Abel slowly unsheathed the knife. “Any man can shoot another man. It takes a real man to stare at someone in the eyes, and stick a knife into him, watching the light fade from his eyes, and his parting from this existence.” The knife now fully exposed, held in his right hand.

    “You've seen me best Omry – on numerous occasions. Now, it’s your turn to take a jab at me.” Abel smiled. “I know you've wanted this for sometime.”

    Henry swallowed, his throat seemingly tight as a knot. He took a deep breath, slowly approaching Abel.

    Henry stuck out one arm, hanging it at a low decline, his fist clinched. His other arm bent closely, with his hand tightly around the knife, his stance served defensively. Abel just walked around, circling him, his arms typically loose, and comfortable, by his sides, as he walked around Henry.

    Abel childishly recalls his early youth, in his own mind, playing back scenarios as he pictured them in his head. The stories of his favorites, such as Alexander the Great, and his imagined personification as a masterful Spartan soldier, a Roman legionnaire – a gladiator. He viewed these childish historical personas, emboldening his own auspicious ego.

    He had been practicing for months with his knife, mastering it in secret, so to use it to his benefit in such an instance. He viewed a knife fight as a true test of a man’s ability to engage in melee combat.

    “Have you ever heard of Jim Bowie?”

    Henry didn't respond, he just turned with Abel, following his movements.

    “He’s was a famous Texan revolutionary, during the early 19th century. He preferred the use of a knife. He earned great respect, prestige, and renown for just that reason, among others of course Most opted to duel then with pistols in that time period, but he preferred the knife. A man’s reactionary movements during the heat of a melee were the test of one’s ability. This provided a greater reason for boasting of bravado, when celebrating a victory afterwards. In the ancient laws of combat, duels were alternatives to decide outcomes, rather than battles. They also gave soldiers the enjoyment of a dueling spectacle. The best fighter from each army would duel on even ground, weapons pre-decided.” Abel began to hop slightly, warming up his body, twirling the knife around in his hand, showing off his handling. He mimicked a boxer in his warm up routine. “They are remembered for their ability to engage in melee combat. The true test of a man, is in his ability to overcome his foe, despite the odds stacked up against him.” He continued on, walking again. “You never know what a man’s capable of.” He stopped, and walked towards Henry.

    Henry stepped back a few steps, but then held his ground. Abel approached, lunging towards him in a provocative manner. Henry stumbled backwards, falling for the bluff attack. Abel just smiled, moving his hands around in front of him, continuing his relentless provocation.

    Henry stepped forward and launched a swipe at Abel, but it was easily dodged. Abel lunged forward, not taking a swipe himself, but mocking Henry with his boldness.

    Another lunge, and Henry swiped again, missing Abel once more.

    Abel lunged this time, swiping at Henry, catching an extended arm, used foolishly as a defense from receiving a more dangerous blow to his torso or head.

    Henry wheeled his arm back in, grunting in pain, the cut clear as day. He held his knife hand out, hoping to have some luck in parrying another attack, as difficult as it would be for an inexperienced knife fighter.

    Henry lunged forward delivering several attempted swipes at Abel, but all were in vein, as Abel quickly evaded all of them. Abel returned one, catching Henry on the cheek, again the man was taken aback, grabbing his face with his free hand. He held his hand out, and it was covered in blood.

    Abel just smiled at him, boldly.

    “Who do you report to?” Abel blurted, bringing the focus of the conversation back on the original topic.

    “Some coward scum sobel? Perhaps the government? You’re a true blue traitor, Henry, and it’s been exposed now. All these boys want nothing better than to gut you.” He said solemly.

    He continued. “If you give me my information, you won’t forego the embarrassment of being slowly cut to pieces right now.”

    “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Henry responded.

    Abel scoffed. “Don’t attempt to connive me, Henry. I’ll cut your throat right here, right now, if you try to deceive me again. Answer the fing question.” He demanded.

    “A fool sobel, he visited Lungi often, when we stayed there." Henry said as quickly as he could utter the words.

    “And what did you seek as your reward for becoming a traitor?”

    Henry grew cross, his hot temper getting the better of him. “We’re all traitors, you fool. You, me, Omry, Silas. All of us. We’re all rebels. Your just trying to build a reputation – a legend for yourself. All of it’s in vain, Abel. Your no different than the rest of us, aside from the color of your skin.”


    “Is that so? No different?” Abel was infuriated by the disrespectful comment. He moved towards Henry, who lunged forward to meet him, and Henry delivered a jab, Abel deflected the knife with his own, and he met Henry’s forward moving face, with his elbow. Henry staggered backwards, falling slightly ,but catching his balance with his free hand. His nose began to bleed, but he quickly collected himself, rising back up.

    Abel moved forward again, this time dodging another jab, and kicking Henry in the side of the knee. The boy dropped to his knees, and Abel used the moment to kick him in the side of the leg, forcing him to stay in that defenseless pose even longer. Now, knowing by recollection, remembering the sobel captain who visited Lungi, he no longer had use for Henry. He kicked him in the back, as the boy tried to rise back up. He let out an immense grunt.

    Abel sliced his back. Again, on the other side, he took another slice. Henry raised his arm to block it, but took another slice on his arm, close to the previous one. He fell back on his bottom, and was now utterly defenseless. He raised the knife in a desperate attempt to prolong the duel, for his own sake. Abel kicked the knife out of his hand, and he landed a hard kick to Henry’s stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He gasped for air, the fight was all but over now.

    Abel walked around, circling Henry, as he helplessly tossed and turned on the ground, bleeding from several knife-inflicted wounds. Abel spit on him, and turned him on his back, using his foot, and stomped on Henry’s face, leaving an imprint of dirt from the boot, on Henry’s face.

    Blood poured from his nostrils and mouth. A similar fate served to that of Henry’s former commander, Omry.

    “If someone was to write a book about your life, Henry, this would be the conclusion. A book with no rise, or climax.” He stepped towards him, kicking him in the ribs, some cracks were heard, clearly he broke some ribs.

    “They will never write stories about you, or feature you on documentaries, or ever utter your name outside of those who know of you pathetic existence.” Abel delivered another kick to the opposite side of Henry’s ribs, more cracks heard, and this time he gasped at a constant pace, some broken ribs having punctured his lungs. His death, by this point, was inevitable without proper medical treatment, which he would undoubtedly not receive.

    “Some are winners, and most are losers, Henry. You, well, you chose the wrong side. That’s obviously apparent to you now.” Abel moved in again, kicking him straight in the jaw, with his steel tipped boots, breaking his jaw.

    “You had your chance after Omry’s demise. You could have been integrated into my command structure, but you opted to deceit and connive me. You’re a yellow snake in the grass.” He turned Henry on his stomach, and stabbed him in the left shoulder, with the knife, withdrawing it roughly from his body, afterwards.

    Abel continued circling him and spit down on his body. “Finally we've come to the conclusion, that you will join the thousands of others who have died on this godforsaken continent, and you have become a statistic.” He bent down, flipping Henry onto his back, and he looked him in the eyes. “Whereas my name shall never be forgotten.”

    He took the blade to Henry’s neck and slit across it slowly, he didn't make a sound, sifting what air he could, before his eyes slowly shut.
    Last edited by Dance; April 18, 2013 at 05:16 PM.

  20. #40

    Default Re: Histories of a Boy Soldier (Ch. XIII - 04/18)

    Excessive brutality? A very moving chapter, but I can't help but feel Abel's growing a darker side by the day.

    +rep when I can.
    Last edited by Robin de Bodemloze; April 20, 2013 at 08:20 AM.
    The Wings of Destiny - A FotS AAR (Chapter 12 - Updated Apr 24)
    Takeda - a Shogun 2 AAR (Completed) Reviewed by Radzeer

    My writing | My art | About me | Sekigahara Campaign - Developer

    ~~Under the proud patronage of Radzeer, Rogue Bodemloze. Patron of Noif de Bodemloze, Heiro de Bodemloze, and Hitai de Bodemloze~~

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