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The Namibian Mandate


Cody Seb
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Upington, South Africa

Corporal Hendrik van den Berg leaned on the side of a tank inspecting his R4 as his fellow corporal, Corporal Dirk Zweig walked over. Both wore the special Kommando variant of the new armor. It had been well received by the military and this would be the first time it would be tried out in actual combat. Neither could see eachother's faces throught he polarized visors, but the two already knew eachother so well it didn't matter.

"Van den Berg? Aye, how are ya?"

"Makin' sure this POS rifle doesn't jam up when we're rollin' through the desert up there."

"Aye, I hear that. Damn windstorms are supposed to keep blowin' the whole time we're up there."

"You mean for the next few months? Or years?"

"What? What are you talking about?" asked Dirk.

"What am I talkin' about? What the hell do ya think I'm talkin' about? Why do ya think we're goin' up there in the first place Zweig?"

"I thought it was about the smugglin', raids, crime, ya know."

"That's called a propaganda excuse, Dirk. We're goin' in, and we'll be there to stay. Understand? The whole fookin' place is gonna a South African Mandate."

"Wait, what? I didn't sign up for no occupation!"

Van den Berg sighed, "We're commandos mate, we don't occupy. We go in, decimate, then let the rank 'n' file handle patrols."

"Aye, you're right about that."

"Your gun ready?"

"Yeah, got a shield for the sand."

Just then one of the Colonels came close and began to talk loudly, to announce something to the other soldiers in the proximity, "Alright grunts, listen up! We are rolling in 3 hours, so get yer @#$% in gear and be ready to move! We're gonna show this Namibian !@#$%^&* what you get when you screw with South Africa! Go! Go! Go!"

At the call of the Colonel, Zweig and Van den Berg got moving and ran over to their unit, which were all standing next to their designated chopper. Their leader was a war veteran, Captain Rygaard. He had fought as a mercenary over in Iraq and then for the South African National Defense Forces during the rebellions.

He spoke to the rest of them, he being the only one with his helmet removed, "Alright now here's the plan. We're hoppin' on this bird and it'll take us into Namibia. Now, we're hopin' we can get in to Keetmanshoop before they know what's goin' on."

Edited by Cody Seb
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South African/Namibian Border

It was 3:00 A.M. and pitch black in the desert. The South African Expeditionary Force were approaching the border. Off in the distance, lights could be seen from the guard towers and border stations. Corporal van der Berg's group had been selected as one that would attack a border station, thereby allowing many of the other divisions to blitz into Namibia before the enemy even knew they were there.

Van der Berg's APC ground to a halt. He nodded at the squad's designated marksman, Cpl. Foster. Foster was an Englishman and one of the better snipers van der Berg had ever seen. He used a Russian Dragunov, an odd quirk considering it was not even an issued weapon, but Foster said he could do better work with it so who was the el-tee to argue.

Foster took aim and fired. One of the tower's spotlights went haywire as its former operator lost his heart, half a lung, and his life. Screaming in Namibian Afrikaans and Bantu languages was heard, as the guards jumped to their stations. Just as the Namibian guards fell silent and looked out anxiously into the night, one of the South African tanks fired. The tower erupted in a plume of debris and fire and tumbled to the ground.

The Major leading the division yelled at the top of his lungs, "Fire at will!"

The charging levers on dozens of .50 cals thundered around Van der Berg, just before they let loose. The roar of the guns was muffled by that of his comrades, who also began firing. Tracer bullets fell like rain in a monsoon upon the border station and within seconds, the checkpoint has been reduced to nothing more than dust, and that went for the bodies too.

"Cease fire, cease fire!" ordered the Major, "Move out!"

With that, the war had begun and Cpl. Van der Berg took his first steps into Namibia.

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Keetmanshoop, Namibia

Urban combat had been frantic and deadly for both sides. Van der Berg had been spearheading a push through some buildings parallel to the city's hotspot, alongside Cpl. Zweig. The job was nerve-wracking, consisting of kicking open doors and firing upon the occupants before they fired back.

The next door they came to was the same story. Zweig lined up to kick the door down. Van der Berg whispered over the secure comm in their helmets, "One three. One. Two. THREE!"

Zweig kicked down the door and spun to the right. The South African special forces opened up, Van der Berg through the doorway, the other firing through the walls, their 7.62x39mm rounds being more than enough to go through the weak plaster and adobe. Namibians hit the ground dead. As the firing slowed, Van der Berg shouted, "Move up!"

The soldiers got into tactical firing positions and stormed through the ruined doorway. Van der Berg swept left and put a three round burst into a wounded machine gunner who was brandishing a pistol. "Put a bullet in all their heads. Make sure they're dead."

Everyone pulled out their side arm and followed Van der Berg's order. Soon after the fire stopped and Van der Berg looked out the window in which the enemy .30 cal was resting. Down in the street were several visible bodies, obviously victim to the weapon. A group of soldiers hunkered down were seen moving up at the behest of their Sargeant. Van der Berg looked down the streets. The battle was nearing its conclusion.

Van der Berg slowly walked through the bodies littering the floor back to his squad. "Job well done boys. Let's regroup with the platoon and file our report. We're done for the day."

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