Leufang: Book 2

By Juan Gutied

With the ever-growing menace posed by a terrorist organisation on their nation, which seeks to expand its shady activities, a team of exceptionally skilled individuals is assembled to foil the terrorists’ plans.
Initially, it is all milk and honey for the squad until the wind of luck reverses and upsets the courses of their lives.
Alliances swap as do convictions.
Is the cause really worth the struggle?
Is the scourge too powerful to be eradicated?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Publiseer Publishing
• Release date: Apr 4, 2018

Book preview

2

BOOK 2

It was evening when the helicopter finally alighted at the headquarters of the Fourth Combined Armed Forces Military Zone. A welcoming committee had even been set up to receive the provisions on board and to direct the reinforcements to their new quarters. Once he set foot on ground, Rambo felt the hot dry air invade his nostrils and so breathed the first few moments with difficulty. He went to the officer leading the committee and presented his detachment letter to him. This one immediately called for one of his subordinates, who ordered the latter to guide Rambo and the officer in charge of the other detached operatives, a certain Captain Moussa, to the Base Commander’s quarters. When they arrived at the commander’s office, the non-commissioned officer presented Rambo and the companion to the former and then, he left. My General! both men shouted as they performed the military salute before their superior. Relax!!! said the master of the quarters in a crooked voice. I was beginning to think His Excellency was ignoring my pleas. It’s been several weeks, he continued scratching his thick grey mustache. Take your seats.

Brigadier General Konchu Charles had been Commander-in-chief of the base for three years and was charged with conducting the military operations in the region. He was aided in his functions by two high ranking officers, Colonel Hamidou Ibrahim, the commanding officer of the Rapid Intervention Battalion (BIR) and Colonel Atemengue Robert, commanding officer of the Special Amphibious Battalion (BSA). In addition to this trio was Colonel Etta Titus of the Air Commando Battalionm (BAFUSCO AIR). While the first three coordinated operations on land, the latter supervised all air operations. They were responsible for setting up tactics and worked hand in glove for increased efficiency. This could include of course, assembling composite units, comprising of soldiers from different corps, such that each could benefit from the skills and know-how of the other.

That son of a gun of Kamto! How is he?! General Konchu asked roughly, swinging excitedly from left to right on his swivel chair. Well, definitely, Rambo replied. I taught him at EMIA, you know. The last time I met him was a couple of years ago, I think. It was at a reception at the Mess in Yaoundé, if my memory doesn’t fail me, the old bald-headed man pursued. Absolutely delighted to have the chance of meeting the famous Rambo in person.

As they were discussing, there was a knock at the door. Come inside, Konchu yelled with his voice getting hoarser from an evident obstruction of phlegm at the bottom of his throat. A few seconds later, a tall slender gentleman got into the room rather shyly. He was slightly fair in complexion with a somewhat juvenile face. His chin was so smooth that one could have imagined no razor had ever touched it. He wore a light green arm band on one of the sleeves of his camouflage jacket, which was folded up till past his elbows. On his head, he wore a black cap with the abbreviation ‘BTAP’ on it and he wore brown boots. He gave the salute to the General after which, he dropped a file on his desk. Here is the report from yesterday’s scouting assignment, the young man said. Great, responded the General browsing through the pages of the document. We succeeded in identifying some potential vulnerable positions from which we can coordinate our strikes, the young soldier went on.

Suddenly, his eyes fell on Rambo whom he seemed to stare with an impression of déjà vu. Excuse....me....?!... he mumbled. Then he paused. Rambo wasn’t quite paying attention as he was absorbed by some document in his phone. RAMBO! the young man screamed. At that instant, Rambo turned to look back pretty astonished. When his eyes befell on the young man, it seemed to him the face looked familiar. Are you.... Rambo? the boy asked again stammering. Damn! Njawé!!! Rambo exclaimed. Both rushed to embrace each other.

- This little freak, how are you? He continued patting the younger one at the back of his head.

- Apart from the insupportable heat and the arid conditions, I’ll do just fine, the other one said as they released one another.

- It’s the battle front, kiddo. Just got to do with it.

- Glad to see you finally where you belong.

Both men laughed. I see you’ve earned your stripes, Rambo continued pointing fingers at the denominated Njawé’s epaulettes. You’re my superior now, my colonel. He said as he mimicked a salute.

That’s just luck, the young officer replied scratching his head looking uneasy.

Tell me, what’s become of you? Rambo asked excitedly.

I see you already know Lieutenant-Colonel Njawé Connor, Captain Tsimi, General Konchu who had been watching them exchange pleasantries with great interest burst in. That’s a wonderful asset.

Of course, my General, Njawé replied. Captain Tsimi was my instructor at Koutaba.

Commenté [D4]: Bataillon d’Intervention Rapide

Commenté [D5]: Bataillon Spécial Amphibie

Commenté [D6]: Bataillon Fusiliers Commandos de l’Air

Excellent! exclaimed the General, caressing the desert on his head. Taking a more serious tone, he went on: Enough of this! We are going through a delicate period and a tough day awaits us tomorrow. We must deal a severe blow to the enemy. Colonel, will you escort Captains Tsimi and Moussa to their new quarters? The old man went on.

Shall I know which one? the young senior officer asked the elder one. B23 for Moussa, I think that is where his troops are being lodged. B07 will do perfect for the other one, Konchu replied.

As you command my General, he said performing the salute. The other two stood from their seats and did same, after which the three men left the office. As they were moving away from the administrative offices, it was already dark all over the camp but yet Rambo continued to feel the air around was pretty fiery and heavy. His difficulty in breathing resumed, and felt some funny sensation like an ominous force warning him against some horrendous happening. Perhaps, it was just the product of his concealed fears given the fact it’d been quite some time, he’d been out of the battle front. A place where he had always dreamt to be, but which he now fears given his years of apparent inactivity at the Koutaba base. Seeing soldiers who had just returned from their various expeditions grievously injured, getting carried along on stretchers and moved to the camp infirmary; seeing others walking around with crutches, some of them amputated from either of their limbs; others on wheelchairs; others who had completely lost their sight with their faces blindfolded; some over whom the enemy had gotten the final say getting carried away to the mortuary (or the hall where their bodies were stored) before their corpses were flown back to their families. The most marking image was that of a young soldier, barely in his late teens or was he just eighteen? In fact he wasn’t yet twenty, he was absolutely certain of that. He had lost all his limbs except for one arm, completely disfigured. His face was a pile of flesh, it seemed as there was never an iota of skin on it. One could even see traces of his skull exposed. It was a totally disgusting and disheartening sight. A young man with such a great future, so many years ahead had chosen to lose his life this way, fighting for his country. He fell prey of an underground mine, one of the carriers seemed to tell his aide. The battle against MESS was a reality, it was no phantasm but the bitter truth in its brutal entirety. Was he really ready for it? Rambo asked himself.

Twenty-one years ago, he had received the news of his deployment to Bakassi with a lot of thrill. A young soldier who had just completed his training in Garoua. He was sent to defend the interests of his nation against an invader, a fierce bird of prey perching over a perishing carcass. He enjoyed living dangerously. Sleeping on a cold mat, on foliage cut from surrounding flora or on the branches of towering trees. He loved hunting and fishing, killing snakes and other beasts potentially threatening his life. He loved setting up traps. He had got used to ‘bathing’ in mud, camouflaging in his environment and shooting down opponents, especially those abominable human beings calling themselves ‘pirates’ who threatened the lives of hard-working and honest civilians. Then came the Greentree Agreement of June 2006 which signaled the beginning of a new chapter in his life. Two years later, he