My name is Michael Emil and I am a soldier of the Republic of the African Union's Naval Expeditionary Special Forces. My squad and I are deployed in South Russia undergoing the mission Red Revival. In return for educating an African company on nuclear engineering, the R.A.U has agreed to stabilize the Soviets. The Americans say they would've done it themselves but they fear an American intervention would lead to an escalation in the Cold War.
The year is 1963 and a band of around a thousand communist extremists are fighting for ideas too radical for even the Soviet government. Our mission is to destroy these men with zero Soviet casualty. In order to assure our success, the United Nations and the Soviet Union has denounced these terrorists as Soviets, making them outlaws. The UN calls this group the Hellion but they call themselves Реформаторы, the Reformers.
The United States has supplied us with weapons while the African Union provides us with aerial artillery. I am equipped with an American M-14, my teammate Gabby has a Thompson submachine gun, and Mark has a shortened Browning Automatic Rifle. My name is Captain Michael Emil and I am the man in charge of this operation. Together, the three of us must destroy a group that we hardly even care about in order to insure an African prosperity. This must be the best job ever.
Battlefield
"Mark how you doin?" I yelled over the sound of his machine gun. "About to go deaf! You?" He said. "About to start sniping." I announced. "I've got you covered!" Gabby yelled. I attached an ACOG scope to my rifle and peered through it to scan the battlefield. I shot twice and killed a guy with an RPG-22.
"Watch for the rockets" I yelled. The M-14 was better than most Soviet sniper rifles because it was clean. When it hit someone, it killed them and kept going. No wonder why the government wants to reverse-engineer it so bad.
"Air captain air captain, this is Michael! Can you read me?" I called on a walkie talkie. "Yes sea fighter, what's the problem?" He responded. "The Hellion are fighting harder than anticipated! Can you give us a reconnaissance spy plane?" I asked. "Yes if you can hold out for five minutes." He granted.
African technology was key to its military survival. It distinguishes us from other countries because the military funds its own science comity that produces its own technology. Not to mention we reverse engineer anything we kill but don't know how to reproduce. We can thank the Soviets for our spy plane.
"Alright sea fighter, I'm gunna feed you this information fast!" He warned. "Go ahead Air Captain." I yelled. "You've got a division around your left corner, a tank is moving toward you, and the enemy is scrambling to move supplies to the forefront of the battlefield." He said. "Got it!" I yelled unnecessarily loud. There's nothing better than African intelligence! I swear to you.
"Air captain, send an attack helicopter to destroy the tank and then return home." I ordered. "You got it." He said. The three of us continued to pick off the Hellion fighters until we heard the hover off an African bird. We knew we were safe now.
The Bird was a type of African aerial artillery helicopter that dominated ground troops and fighter planes everywhere it went. Under it's pilot control was a 7.65 mm machine gun turret, followed by two guided missile launchers on the wings, and a rotational gunner station usually manned by a copilot. It's pilot seat was littered with a RADAR system and failure awareness technology if a bird was hit vitally. The copilot had a television that displayed live footage from a camera on his machine gun turret was viewing.
"That's the last of em but we've got more to our left. Let's move in and take them out and the refill our ammunition bags." I ordered. "Didn't command say something about them moving supplies back and forth?" Gabby asked. "Yeah Gabby, you'll lead us on that after this." I promised.
