shark that entered the circle of light created by the
spot lamps. It deferentially ignored the
submersible that was larger than itself , and the
Chinese troopers clinging to it like pilot fish.
That at least answered his question.
Beyond the channel his submersible ceased forward
motion and held station awaiting the second submersible to emerge safely. It
appeared after a little more than five minutes and turned north, to head
parallel to the shoreline for fifteen miles.
The Captains submersible though came to a heading of
280° and continued for the shore.
An hour later the submersible settled to the bottom
well short of the low water mark, its purpose fulfilled.
According to the ECM data they were now at worst about
five hundred metres from a Foreign Legion O.P
Captain Huaiqing slipped out of the rebreather while
still submerged but retained the weights belt about his waist for the moment to
prevent bobbing to the surface. He partially emerged from the sea to lie in the
surf with just passive night goggles and the muzzle of his French FAMAS assault
rifle visible.
A downpour of tropical dimensions was pelting down
from above raising a low lying haze of flying spray as the droplets burst upon
impacting the sea and already sodden sand. It roared down, smiting the wide
palm fronds like a constant drum roll. Even with PNGs, passive night goggles,
the visibility was greatly reduced.
The beach was exactly as expected from both satellite
photographs and tourists holiday snaps incorporated in the original briefing
back in China.
Pale grey cadavers lay strewn and entangled upon the
beach where storms had tossed them, their rigid bodies going brittle in the
intense heat of the sun, in the seasons when it shone. These once proud trees
did not hail from close hereabouts though. Overhanging the myriad rivers and
waterways that drained the South American rainforest they had eventually
succumbed to age or to undermining by flood waters, the rivers carried them
away, out to sea eventually and thence to a timber cemetery such as this.
Once upon a time the shore had not been so crowded.
Once it has been sun dried, the dead wood made excellent fuel for cooking fires
at the many hamlets and fishing villages along the coast of French Guiana. The
remains of the villages between Kourou and the border with Suriname were now as
grey and lifeless as the trees on the beaches, the inhabitants moved on in the
interests of un-burst eardrums, such was the thunder of the rocket
launches.
Two men crawled slowly forwards, hesitating only once
to peer at their commander.
Jie Huaiqing gave them a reassuring nod and they
squirmed forwards through the sand, wasting no time looking for mines or trip
wires. The scouts disappeared into the jungle lining the shore and separated,
searching left and right for any waiting legionnaires manning OP’s or laying in
ambush.
After a few minutes one returned to give the all clear
and they all of them still in the shallows shed their weights belts, hoisted
heavy, vacuum sealed bags and sprinted from the sea heedless of their footing.
Nobody with half a brain would waste mines on a beach
where a few thousand heavy Leatherback turtles were going to be digging holes
to lay their eggs.
Once in cover they stripped off the wet suits and
opened the bags, pulling on boots, camouflage clothing, weighty bergen’s and combat equipment.
Captain Huaiqing took a fat barrelled 7.62 calibre
handgun from the bag. The Norinco Type 64 was purpose built for silent dirty
work at greater distances than a sound suppressed 9mm. He looped a lanyard
through the trigger guard and hung it suspended around his neck, tucking it out
of sight down the inside of his smock.
Next Jie pulled on a green beret, setting it just so.
He had practiced this many times in the dark onboard the Dai during the voyage.
The last item out of the waterproof bag was his map
case. A French military map of the area and a wildlife reference book
spot lamps. It deferentially ignored the
submersible that was larger than itself , and the
Chinese troopers clinging to it like pilot fish.
That at least answered his question.
Beyond the channel his submersible ceased forward
motion and held station awaiting the second submersible to emerge safely. It
appeared after a little more than five minutes and turned north, to head
parallel to the shoreline for fifteen miles.
The Captains submersible though came to a heading of
280° and continued for the shore.
An hour later the submersible settled to the bottom
well short of the low water mark, its purpose fulfilled.
According to the ECM data they were now at worst about
five hundred metres from a Foreign Legion O.P
Captain Huaiqing slipped out of the rebreather while
still submerged but retained the weights belt about his waist for the moment to
prevent bobbing to the surface. He partially emerged from the sea to lie in the
surf with just passive night goggles and the muzzle of his French FAMAS assault
rifle visible.
A downpour of tropical dimensions was pelting down
from above raising a low lying haze of flying spray as the droplets burst upon
impacting the sea and already sodden sand. It roared down, smiting the wide
palm fronds like a constant drum roll. Even with PNGs, passive night goggles,
the visibility was greatly reduced.
The beach was exactly as expected from both satellite
photographs and tourists holiday snaps incorporated in the original briefing
back in China.
Pale grey cadavers lay strewn and entangled upon the
beach where storms had tossed them, their rigid bodies going brittle in the
intense heat of the sun, in the seasons when it shone. These once proud trees
did not hail from close hereabouts though. Overhanging the myriad rivers and
waterways that drained the South American rainforest they had eventually
succumbed to age or to undermining by flood waters, the rivers carried them
away, out to sea eventually and thence to a timber cemetery such as this.
Once upon a time the shore had not been so crowded.
Once it has been sun dried, the dead wood made excellent fuel for cooking fires
at the many hamlets and fishing villages along the coast of French Guiana. The
remains of the villages between Kourou and the border with Suriname were now as
grey and lifeless as the trees on the beaches, the inhabitants moved on in the
interests of un-burst eardrums, such was the thunder of the rocket
launches.
Two men crawled slowly forwards, hesitating only once
to peer at their commander.
Jie Huaiqing gave them a reassuring nod and they
squirmed forwards through the sand, wasting no time looking for mines or trip
wires. The scouts disappeared into the jungle lining the shore and separated,
searching left and right for any waiting legionnaires manning OP’s or laying in
ambush.
After a few minutes one returned to give the all clear
and they all of them still in the shallows shed their weights belts, hoisted
heavy, vacuum sealed bags and sprinted from the sea heedless of their footing.
Nobody with half a brain would waste mines on a beach
where a few thousand heavy Leatherback turtles were going to be digging holes
to lay their eggs.
Once in cover they stripped off the wet suits and
opened the bags, pulling on boots, camouflage clothing, weighty bergen’s and combat equipment.
Captain Huaiqing took a fat barrelled 7.62 calibre
handgun from the bag. The Norinco Type 64 was purpose built for silent dirty
work at greater distances than a sound suppressed 9mm. He looped a lanyard
through the trigger guard and hung it suspended around his neck, tucking it out
of sight down the inside of his smock.
Next Jie pulled on a green beret, setting it just so.
He had practiced this many times in the dark onboard the Dai during the voyage.
The last item out of the waterproof bag was his map
case. A French military map of the area and a wildlife reference book
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