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Transvaal-Arctica


Botha
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Map showing Arctica-Transvaal

On December 1st one year ago, the last Transvaler Krygsmagte troops of the occupation force in Arctica departed from the Madagaskar Vrystaat. Arctica and Madagascar was thus once again re-united under the rule of Sovereign Vedran.

In the year which has followed, diplomatic relations between Transvaal and Arctica have strengthened despite the tragedy of war and destruction which has plagued both nations’ history.

Therefore, to show the world that two nations can live and share in mutual, neighbourly peace and goodwill despite any ideological differences we may hold between us, as of December 1, 2009, Transvaal and Arctica will maintain a joint claim/ownership of Northern Mozambique and Malawi. The territory will be called Transvaal-Arctica and Arctica-Transvaal (to be used interchangebly) and is fully part of both Transvaal and Arctica in a mutually-recognised overlapping land claim.

This almost unprecedented display of two independent nations sharing joint ownership, management, and development of territory will show the nations of the world – specifically the nuclear burnt-out wastelands known as Europe how to live in peace – instead of focusing on narrow-minded egotistical greed and expansion driving their war machines and providing their tired, haggard citizens with nothing more than another blanket of fallout on their plates.

Elections will follow in providing an autonomous local government to mutually govern the territory.

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We hope this is the precursor to a Black African homeland in Southern Africa leading towards the possibility of a future all White Transvaal
Isn't an all White Transvaal a little exclusionary?

Why not make a better Transvaal for all Africans, white or otherwise?

-Liska Atka, acting generalissimo of Procinctia-

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We hope this is the precursor to a Black African homeland in Southern Africa leading towards the possibility of a future all White Transvaal.

Transvaal has had a white majority since the post-Karma War reconstruction period. The Republican government is not looking to exclude those Black Africans who wish to remain in Transvaal to reap the ecomonic benefits and work within the existing political system.

Also a vast majority of Cape Coloured are expected to remain in Transvaal on account of their common Afrikaans language and cultural traditions.

What we hope Arctica-Transvaal will do is provide an autonomous state where radical Blacks can live outside of direct Transvaler rule and excercise their own political freedom. Likewise with Arcticans who wish to emigrate there on account of the free market economic policies practised in Transvaal.

The legal system used in Transvaal-Arctica is a combination of Transvaler and Arctican laws - with the more liberal legislation between the two sets of laws taking precedence.

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TRANSVAAL-ARCTICA TERRITORIAL CHARTER

To show the world that two nations can live and share in mutual, neighbourly peace and goodwill despite any ideological differences we may hold between us, as of December 1, 2009, Transvaal and Arctica will maintain a joint claim/ownership of Northern Mozambique and Malawi. The Territory will be called Transvaal-Arctica and Arctica-Transvaal (to be used interchangeably) and is fully part of both Transvaal and Arctica in a mutually-recognised overlapping land claim.

Citizenship is territorial based.

Arctica and Transvaal are free to maintain whatever border controls deemed necessary between their nations and the Territory.

Laws within the territory are based on a combination of the Arctican and Transvaler legal codes with the more lenient or liberal law taking precedence.

Transvaal and Arctica may each base ground troops up to 10% of the smaller nation’s military IG troop count. For example, if Transvaal has 40,250 soldiers and Arctica 20,000 solders, each nation may base up to 2,000 soldiers each within Arctica-Transvaal. In the case of one nation having 0 troops, then 10% of the other nation’s military may be permitted. This restriction also applies to tanks but not airforce nor naval units.

[signed]

FOR REPUBLIC OF TRANSVAAL

Botha

State President of the Republic of Transvaal

FOR ARCTICA

Vedran I

Sovereign of Arctica

Edited by Botha
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Soon after Arctican troops and government agencies arrived in the new territory, a small group of locals at the deepwater port of Nacala along the northern coast of Mozambique hesitantly approached the senior Arctican military officer in charge assigned there.

Through Swahili and Portuguese translators, they told the Arctican officer: “We want to show you something – but you cannot tell the Boers we showed you, otherwise they will get mad and burn our village down... or worse.”

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Soon after Arctican troops and government agencies arrived in the new territory, a small group of locals at the deepwater port of Nacala along the northern coast of Mozambique hesitantly approached the senior Arctican military officer in charge assigned there.

Through Swahili and Portuguese translators, they told the Arctican officer: “We want to show you something – but you cannot tell the Boers we showed you, otherwise they will get mad and burn our village down... or worse.”

The Lt. Colonel in charge of the Arctican garrison in the city, a younger man named Broussard, was glad to help.

He looked at one of the translators. "Tell them that I will send some men to see what they want to show me."

The general picked up his phone and spoke to the secretary outside of the office. "Call Lieutenant Malahelo to my office."

Soon, the door opened and an officer of Malagasy ethnicity entered and saluted the general.

"Lieutenant, I want you to take three men and help these people with their problem. They need to show us something that they believe necessitates a certain level of secrecy, from the Transvalers. They fear for their safety. Report to me as soon as you can."

"Yes, sir."

After rounding up the men he needed, the Lieutenant asked the locals to show him what the problem was.

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Two jeeps with Arctican military markings took off along a dirt track cut out of the dense bush which covered much of northern Mozambique. Away from the coastal settlements, like the port town of Nacela, the country was wild and largely unihabited.

In the lead jeep was Lieutenant Malahelo. Along with the driver at the wheel one of the locals who had approached Broussard, he appeared to be some sort of chief in charge or village elder. Also in the jeep was a translator, who was trying to speak - almost forced to yell - to Malahelo over the noise of the engine and loud, constant rattling of the jeep along the bumpy road.

“He says the site is around ten minutes from here and was abandoned by the Transvalers last February before the first attempt at Mozambican independence. Not much remains except the some foundations... and the graves.”

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The Lieutenant blinked, hearing the word 'graves'. Now that northern Mozambique is part of Arctica as well as Transvaal, their dirty secrets are bound to be crawling out of the woodwork. But they must know that too. Maybe they'll try to conceal their actions.

The Lieutenant was silent for a moment, taking the new information. He picked up his radio and called the other jeep. "They're leading us to what remains of a Transvaler compound and gravesite. Keep an eye out."

He looked at the translator again. "Ask him what function the site served before it was abandoned." The Lieutenant knew that the Transvalers maintained prison camps in Mozambique, but had not heard of any in this area.

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He looked at the translator again. "Ask him what function the site served before it was abandoned."

The translator questioned the elder, who replied back something to him. The translator leaned forward so Lieutenant Malahelo could hear him better. “He doesn’t know, they were kept away at pain of death. But he says not too far now…”

After a couple of minutes, the jeep came to a stop at a junction in the road. The tire tracks called a ‘road’ cut through the bush continued off to the right onwards to who knows where, while an old barbed wire gate blocked the tracks going to the left. Further examination show what looked like a barbed wire fence blocking their way and going off both sides into the dense, impassible undergrowth.

The native pointed repeatedly at the gate, and spoke in what was probably Swahili or some other local indigenous tongue to the translator. The translator then said to Malahelo, “he says we have to continue on foot, past this gate, for around half a kilometre or so.”

The group left the jeeps parked in front of the gate. As the Arctican soldiers used some wire cutters to make a hole in the fence, Malahelo noticed the glint of metal around ten feet from where his jeep pulled up. He walked over and noticed a rusted, yellow sign with black lettering abandoned like trash on the ground.

It read: “FEDERALE HARDEPADSTRAFKAMP VIR HOMOSEKSUEELS”

The translator noticed Malahelo looking at the sign now in his hands. It’s Afrikaans, I think it means ‘state labour penal camp for homosexuals’ or something like that.”

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With the obstacle of the gate out of their way, the group of Arcticans lead by the village elder continued on foot. The site appeared to have been cleared from the bush at one time, the tell-tale evidence of stumps and the young re-growth seemed to indicate that. However since the site’s abandonment, the never stopping tentacles of the jungle had taken back much of the area.

Ahead of them opened up a clearing. Suddenly one of the soldiers tripped. It appeared to be a brick and mortar foundation for some sort of building.

The native elder, who had gone on ahead around one hundred feet, began to wave wildly at the Arcticans and pointed to the ground. Watching their footing on the ground, the Arcticans made their way to were the elder was. In front of them was a sunken pit which had recently been unearthed. The elder then lead them around to the other side of the pit, which was around twenty feet in diameter. He point at the ground where a dozen corpses of various decay were lined up in a row – and then said something. The translator told Malahelo, “He says that once the Transvalers left this area a few days ago, the villagers came in here scavenging for discarded junk left behind. They then stumbled across this mound, which they mistook for a garbage midden so began to dig through it. Instead they found these bodies.”

One of the Arctican soldiers went down on one knee to examine closer. “Sir, they all appear to have been shot in the head, at close range… execution style.”

He then asked the lieutenant, concerned “...what are we going to do about this?”

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Malahelo hopped out of his jeep, grabbing a pair of wire cutters walking up to the gate. He sighed heavily, hating to leave the jeeps behind. They were the only way out of this place.

He listened to the translator and walked up to the gate, looking past it into the brush for a moment before turning to look at the three soldiers following him. He pointed at one. "Private, guard the vehicles. I want you to contact HQ now, inform them of our position and the situation so far. Check in with me every ten minutes by clicking the radio twice. Click once to signal distress."

The Private walked off, leaving only two others. After working to make a hole in the fence, Malahelo passed through, he and a Private on point, another guarding their rear. Malahelo was holding his standard-issue TT sidearm; the man next to him was carrying an AM-8 "Mauler" and the rear guard carried a combat shotgun.

The Lieutenant noticed a glint of sunshine reflecting off a piece of metal which had been discarded there. His eyes ran over the words while the translator explained their meaning. He scowled at the sign and its meaning. To put innocent people in a camp in a place like this...

Malahelo refocused on the mission: he was to protect the natives and their translators and to investigate the abandoned site. Pressing on into the bush...

OOC: was typing this when you posted. Just switch them, chronologically. I'll get to typing a new post.

Edited by Vedran
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With the obstacle of the gate out of their way, the group of Arcticans lead by the village elder continued on foot. The site appeared to have been cleared from the bush at one time, the tell-tale evidence of stumps and the young re-growth seemed to indicate that. However since the site’s abandonment, the never stopping tentacles of the jungle had taken back much of the area.

Ahead of them opened up a clearing. Suddenly one of the soldiers tripped. It appeared to be a brick and mortar foundation for some sort of building.

The native elder, who had gone on ahead around one hundred feet, began to wave wildly at the Arcticans and pointed to the ground. Watching their footing on the ground, the Arcticans made their way to were the elder was. In front of them was a sunken pit which had recently been unearthed. The elder then lead them around to the other side of the pit, which was around twenty feet in diameter. He point at the ground where a dozen corpses of various decay were lined up in a row – and then said something. The translator told Malahelo, “He says that once the Transvalers left this area a few days ago, the villagers came in here scavenging for discarded junk left behind. They then stumbled across this mound, which they mistook for a garbage midden so began to dig through it. Instead they found these bodies.”

One of the Arctican soldiers went down on one knee to examine closer. “Sir, they all appear to have been shot in the head, at close range… execution style.”

He then asked the lieutenant, concerned “...what are we going to do about this?”

The Arcticans pressed onward, the Lieutenant keeping his eyes mainly on the ground in front of the group, his breathing shallow, scanning the terrain for any tripwires, pungi sticks, or potential pitalls while at the same time paying attention to the sounds of the jungle, listening for any signs of an ambush. The Private behind him scanned in front of and beside them for any enemy movement. The rear guard trailed them, his back to the group and his shotgun constantly up, ready to respond should a threat emerge. Sometime during the walk, Malahelo's radio clicked twice.

The Lieutenant let out a relieved breath when they reached the site without incident, but he remained vigilant. The Private tripped, almost dropping his Mauler. "This is the foundation they were talking about, sir."

At some point the elder had passed him and despite the Lieutenant's warnings had gone ahead of them and was now waving frantically. Malahelo shook his head. The man was making himself a target for whatever lurked in the jungle. Quickly, he waved the group forward and reached the elder, looking down into the pit only for a moment, paying more attention to the translator.

"A few days, you say?" This worried Malahelo more than the rear guard's report of the kind of death these people suffered.

He said to his men in a low voice, "Defensive positions around the civilians. Keep your heads down." The Privates did so, each dropping to one knee and scanning the jungle with their weapons.

I must inform the Lt. Colonel about this. If the Transvalers left only a few days ago, they may be back. I have to call for reinforcements to secure the area. Regardless of the two nations' informal alliance, he doubted that certain groups within the Transvaler military would hesitate to cover this up.

The Lieutenant dropped to his knee and put the radio up to his mouth. He held down the talk button, eyes on the jungle. "Private, respond."

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The Lieutenant dropped to his knee and put the radio up to his mouth. He held down the talk button, eyes on the jungle. "Private, respond."

“All quiet sir,” the private reported in. “I haven’t seen a soul out here since we left Nacela. It’s pretty thick out here. There are not even any animals around except for the occasional bird overheard. If there is anyone around, they must be confined to the trail or this clearing. We would hear someone crashing through the bush. It's impossible to move into the bush and maintain silence.”

The Arctican soldier who had first noticed the gunshot wounds in the corpses then quietly called over the Lieutenant.

“Sir, excuse me for saying this, but something doesn’t quite make sense. If the Transvalers did close this camp in February like the natives told us, then that would probably accurately match the amount of re-growth over the foundations and the cleared area here. However, look at this... some of these bodies, like this one here, look fairly recently deceased. Too recent.” He pointed to one in particular, clearly a woman in her twenties, with bright pink dyed hair, “I’m no forensics expert by any means but she looks like she’s been dead for maybe a month.”

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“All quiet sir,” the private reported in. “I haven’t seen a soul out here since we left Nacela. It’s pretty thick out here. There are not even any animals around except for the occasional bird overheard. If there is anyone around, they must be confined to the trail or this clearing. We would hear someone crashing through the bush. It's impossible to move into the bush and maintain silence.”

The Arctican soldier who had first noticed the gunshot wounds in the corpses then quietly called over the Lieutenant.

“Sir, excuse me for saying this, but something doesn’t quite make sense. If the Transvalers did close this camp in February like the natives told us, then that would probably accurately match the amount of re-growth over the foundations and the cleared area here. However, look at this... some of these bodies, like this one here, look fairly recently deceased. Too recent.” He pointed to one in particular, clearly a woman in her twenties, with bright pink dyed hair, “I’m no forensics expert by any means but she looks like she’s been dead for maybe a month.”

"Yes, I see now," said the Lieutenant thoughtfully. Who had been using this site for an execution ground, for months after it was supposed to be closed?

Malahelo radioed the private again and explained the situation, then ordered him to use the more powerful radio in the jeep to contact HQ.

At the Arctican garrison headquarters in Nacela...

"HQ, come in. This is Private Engelman. Over."

"HQ here. What do you need, Private? Over."

"I have a message for Lt. Colonel Broussard, urgent from Lt. Malahelo. Message follows: abandoned Transvaler prison site found in jungle, no intact buildings. Natives claim site closed in February, abandoned several days ago, vegetative regrowth supports that claim. Large burial pit found, most recent corpse estimated at one month dead. Request immediate reinforcements to secure site. Repeat, immediate reinforcements requested. Do you copy? Over."

"We copy, Private. HQ over and out."

The radio operator wrote down the conversation and handed the transcript to his superior, who delivered it to Broussard. Broussard immediate radioed for a full platoon of soldiers to be sent out with a medical team to cordon off the area and recover bodies.

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Broussard immediate radioed for a full platoon of soldiers to be sent out with a medical team to cordon off the area and recover bodies.

One of the soldiers manning the radios called for Broussard's attention. "Sir, we've got word from one of our city patrols that a squad of around 10 Krygsmagte soldiers just entered town making their way for the docks. They appear to be frontier guards - did you want them detained?"

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One of the soldiers manning the radios called for Broussard's attention. "Sir, we've got word from one of our city patrols that a squad of around 10 Krygsmagte soldiers just entered town making their way for the docks. They appear to be frontier guards - did you want them detained?"

"Detained? No...send one of our own squads out, ask the officer in charge if he needs help. If not, have them tag along anyway."

In a matter of minutes, a squad of eight Arcticans approached the Transvalers. The Sergeant in charge of them waved them down. "Good day!" he called out. "Do you need a few extra hands?"

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The Sergeant in charge of them waved them down. "Good day!" he called out. "Do you need a few extra hands?"

The ten soldiers of the Krygsmagte border guards looked disheveled from being out in the bush for too long. They all had beards and looked like they all needed a hot shower.

An ensign, the lowest grade officer grade in the Transvaler military, responded to the Arctican sergeant.

“Oh… hello, we’ve just arrived back in from our month-long patrol along the Mozambican frontier with Serca and are now waiting, hopefully, for our transport from here to take us back to Maputo.”

The ensign then confirmed, “I heard something over our radio that Transvaal was now occupying or sharing this god forsaken place with Arctica? Is that true?”

After receiving confirmation of that fact, the ensign asked “can we be of help while we wait for our boat home?”

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The ten soldiers of the Krygsmagte border guards looked disheveled from being out in the bush for too long. They all had beards and looked like they all needed a hot shower.

An ensign, the lowest grade officer grade in the Transvaler military, responded to the Arctican sergeant.

“Oh… hello, we’ve just arrived back in from our month-long patrol along the Mozambican frontier with Serca and are now waiting, hopefully, for our transport from here to take us back to Maputo.”

The ensign then confirmed, “I heard something over our radio that Transvaal was now occupying or sharing this god forsaken place with Arctica? Is that true?”

"Yes sir," said the Sergeant, making sure to address the man properly. "As of December 1, Malawi and northern Mozambique comprise a jointly governed territory called Transvaal-Arctica, or Arctica-Transvaal. My men and I are part of the Arctica-Transvaal Defense Force."

After receiving confirmation of that fact, the ensign asked “can we be of help while we wait for our boat home?”

The Sergeant had been informed of a discovery in the jungle but had not been told of the more alarming details. "Yes, sir, I believe you can. You say you've been patrolling the border? Are there any remote Transvaler installations out there that may need to be told about the change of jurisdiction or aided in any way?"

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The Sergeant had been informed of a discovery in the jungle but had not been told of the more alarming details. "Yes, sir, I believe you can. You say you've been patrolling the border? Are there any remote Transvaler installations out there that may need to be told about the change of jurisdiction or aided in any way?"

The Krygsmagte ensign, who spoke with an English twang, seemed affable and genuinely pleased to see another civilized face apart from his compatriots in the squad.

“No. Apart from border patrols which are ferried in to Nacela on monthly rotations, there is no Krygsmagte military presence out here at all. The northern frontier of Mozambique is pretty wild and off the beaten track, so we see very little activity. Spooking wild animals is about as exciting as it gets for us most days.”

“Admittedly Transvaal has never really maintained much of an influence in Mozambique once you move inland from the immediate coast. That’s why we rely on coastal ferries to transport us; the road network – if you can call it that – is practically non-existent in the interior. Mostly dirt tracks and footpaths.”

“All we do is keep close along the Serca border, keep track of border stones marking the frontier, look for evidence of smuggling – which if it exists is pretty small scale and between local villages straddling the border, and keep track and observe any disturbances amongst the natives. By and large, we leave the locals alone and they leave us alone. The only time we interact with them is when we need to replenish our supply of rations.”

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"Understood, sir. If you require support, contact the garrison here in town." The Sergeant saluted the ensign and walked off to report to Broussard.

Meanwhile, the Arctican platoon and their medical team reached the gate in the jungle, with the lone soldier guarding the two jeeps. Soldiers had been equipped with cameras and were photographing all important items, such as the discarded sign. They'd also brought more heavy tools to take the entire gate apart, and confiscated the sign.

Due to the dense brush, they chose not to take transport trucks but instead took a small convoy of jeeps, each with a trailer attached to transport the bodies back to the base. Unfortunately however, the jeeps and trailers could not go into the denser brush to reach the actual camp, and using stretchers to remove the bodies would take up too much time and manpower, so eventually the decision was made to use wheelbarrows.

When the reinforcements reached the clearing where the camp was, they positioned themselves near the edges, facing outward. The medical team and the photographers made their way to the pit, photographing every angle of the scene before the medical team began the task of removing the bodies and lining them up side to side. The team did a quick check of each body for means of death, then photographed them and began loading them up. Each one was given an approximate time of death also. All this took about 30-45 minutes before the bodies were ready for transport.

The Lieutenant in command of the platoon relayed orders to Lt. Malahelo that he was to escort the civilians back to the vehicles and to take them back to the base to talk with Broussard about protecting their village from reprisals.

Once the photographing and taking of notes was complete, the team began loading the bodies into the wheelbarrows and hauling them back to the gate.

"This is terrible," one of the medics remarked. "I feel like a guard at a death camp, I hope I never have to do this again."

The medic behind him whispered, "Who knows? Maybe the Boers have got more of these scattered around the place..."

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