The morning sight that greeted citizens of Armford was not a stomach warming one. Hanging high from the 12 posts that line Trade Street, the main thoroughfare that led to the parliament were the prisoners who'd refused deportment back to Saletsia. It was evident that they'd been beaten, probably to try and convince them that leaving would be the best option, but to no avail, these men were committed, and more they were not scared. The flurry of activity during the night had failed even to make the newspapers, probably due to the censorship that had come about since the recent UASS wars. Rumour of a full-scale invasion was already rife around the cabinet, although officially Saletsia had denounced the terrorist actions, it was widely believed they were un-officially suportative, and possibly even supplying them.
Meanwhile...
On the grassy hills of the Gordon Plains 12 Squadron, 2nd Union Tank Regiment waited in their Challenger 2, battle tanks. Engines off, and stiffly waiting in the cold, Lieutenant Chandler felt euphoric as the smells of the freshly crushed grass, and morning dew ran up his nostrils. "Sir?" His number two called up handing him a mug of Tea. Thanking him he warmed his hands. "What time are we going?" He asked.
"Zero hour is at 0900, if there not gone by then we move in. Expect no Quarter lads, for we offer none in return!" He recited from an old union poem of the Reclamation a few years previous. Pacey, his number too looked down at his controls, he was tired, very tired. They had been Garrisoned at White hart, and had moved in the early hours, just as the Infantry had been mopping up. They were over-due leave, and well deserving of a rest, the squadron had suffered during the UASS wars, had lost its previous CO, and alot of its vehicles, but you can replace vehicles, it is harder to replace faces. "Whats the time Pacey?" Chandler asked.
"0810 sir, if they're gonna move, they better do it soon!" He said.
"Your right... I hope they do."
