[h3]Garet Djibelet, Tindouf, Algeria – November 1959[/h3][hr]Johann Francoise looked over the greenies of the newly minted 3[sup]rd[/sup] Company, 2[sup]nd[/sup] Battalion, 1[sup]st[/sup] Regiment. They had been dropped off by plane, marching out in neat ranks into the warzone. The first man was shot in the head by a Traditionalist sniper and they spread out like headless chickens. He had yelled at them, waving them over away from the airstrip from the safety of the cave. The strip was always a target for Traditionalists and as the Green Company ran over to him, they were being shot at from both sides. By the last man, two corpses lay under the harsh sun. The company's sullen faces at their comrades were obvious and he let them grieve for a little bit. They wouldn't have any chance to once they entered the mines. After a few somber seconds, the tall Frenchman cleared his throat and the Greens, as a whole, turned towards him with curious if solemn eyes. They all looked so young, innocent even. Some of them coudn't have been older than 16 at the most and he was about to introduce most to their graves.

"Good morning 3[sup]rd[/sup] Company! I am Master Sergeant Francoise, leader of your company and the man leading your briefing this fair morning." The company was silent, like they were trapped under some sort of spell. They were in an incredibly large cave with sentries guarding the entrance, not daring to step outside however. Two Renault M35s faced the entrance, their crews maintaining them and checking over the systems. Several other groups were moving within the cave, from fireteam to battalion it was like a hive of activity. Several tunnels, both man-made and natural, led out of the cave into the mine complex or the town itself. Soldiers disappeared into the dark tunnels or emerged out of them, covered in dust and often carrying wounded with them. "Your role here is to reinforce the rest of the 1[sup]st[/sup] Regiment in defending the iron mines of Garet Djibelet."

A lieutenant raised his hand and Francoise waved for him to talk. "Aren't we supposed to be reinforcing the regiment in defending the town itself, Sergea?"

The Frenchman took on a grim expression and shook his head. "As of 0430 yesterday, the town of Garet Djibelet has fallen. The mines are our objective now and we will not lose another inch of ground." He let that sink in before continuing "This is Six Cave, the only cave that leads in and out of the mines that we control. We are in the process of taking Four Cave but the other caves are off limits, the Tradies have blocked them off with explosives. This is hub central and all of the tunnels lead to Six Cave. It is the most important place in this damn mine complex and our lifeline. Unfortunately, we will not be guarding Six Cave like these lazy tankers." He heard jeering from the offended group but ignored them. Tankers were always crass and rude, especially when they feel useless. A Renault trying to fit into a mine tunnel? Very few of them allowed for that. Most of the armour were leading the convoys of troops in and out to reach X-ray and Tindouf. Except for the tankers who were unfortunate enough to be left in permanent guard duty.

"You will be fighting in the tunnels in platoon sections. This is CQC fighting but we will not be tolerating friendly fire. Identify your target before you shoot them, simple as that. Any man or woman found taking shots at our guys and you will be going home in a coffin. Too many soldiers have died from friendly fire and those bodies could have been used to defend this place. Due to the close quarters, 39ers to the front like you were trained, bayonets affixed as soon as you enter these mines. Some tunnels can allow for a dozen men to stand shoulder to shoulder but others will make you crawl. It will be constricting but you've all been screened for it so if you're claustrophobic, you might be the stupidest son of a bitch I know. If you're afraid of the dark, you've been issued lights to be strapped on to your shoulder. Do not lose it and use it only when you're going down a particularly dark tunnel. Let your eyes adjust to the dark first or you'll be lit up by some trigger-finger newbie who shoots at the light." 

The sergeant continued as the company took the lights out from their large turtleback packs and fixed it to their uniform. “Before you enter, you have to lose those packs or you will be too slow. Bring your smaller bags with a day’s rations and your water plus the other necessities. Leave the rest of your equipment here and your sergeants will deal with organizing it in a pile. Hurry it up, you’re needed here! Platoon leaders to me.” Five men and women stepped forward as the rest of the company  started taking their large packs off. Francoise waved them over until they were close enough, looking at each junior officer in the eye. Four women and one man, two freshies and three veterans. He could tell from their grim expressions that the three women had fought in real battles before. The other two were too jumpy, bright and polished. Everything about them screamed “academy”. Still, he took his time assessing each lieutenant as the sounds of shouting NCOs filled the air. Looking past them, he took on a blank look. “Most of your soldiers will die.”

They were taken aback by the apathy in his tone but slowly accepted the truth in his words, the freshies more reluctantly than the others. They were all briefed before Francoise’ own, a lot more grim and detailed than what the infantry were given. They knew the death count and the horrifying conditions they were about to get into. The casualty rate amongst veterans coming home from Garet Djibelet was the highest in Tindouf. Among homecoming soldiers, many of them lost limbs and organs due to explosives and CQC melee. It was a brutal slog to try and fight through the mines, a hellish battlefield filled with nasty surprises and people who want to kill you. There was an uncountable amount of soldiers who have been buried alive since the fighting went deeper into the mine complexes. A company never came out of the mines as fully functioning. They were always understrength and filled with shocked survivors. The normal soldier wasn’t told this information before conscripting, they were kept from the truth to boost morale. They were going to learn soon enough anyways.

Francoise let them calm down before continuing. “Keep your platoons tight, maintain order. Split them into their squads and keep the 39ers at point, let their training take the rest. Do not charge in first, you cannot die out there. Officers who can lead their soldiers effectively will do so from behind. Use your orders wisely and be mindful of improvised explosives, cycle out different explosive specialists when defusing them but when they become scarce, your other soldiers should suffice for smaller explosives. Watch out for the chemicals and at these areas in red,” he handed out several maps of the tunnels with some tunnels marked in red “gas masks are to be worn at all times. Gas leaks are common and can kill more of your soldiers than a Traditionalist with a gun can. Hand out your spare maps to your sergeants and brief them like I have briefed you. Do not let anyone below that rank know about the casualty rate. It will cause a panic among the ranks. Keep your soldiers as fresh as possible and do not be afraid of retreat.”

The Captain put a hand on the nearest lieutenant’s shoulder, trying to improve their moods. “Follow my advice and I assure you, by Allah that your guys and gals will be fine.” He put a fake grin on his face, weakly boosting the atmosphere in the air. The freshies gave their own weak smiles of reassurance while the veterans nodded. He gave them further orders and dismissed them, looking back at the rest of his men. Five piles of gear were lined up in front of them. The spare rations were to be given to the hungry while the rest of it was going to be stored here. The lieutenants gathered their sergeants as Francoise got the attention of the rest of his men. “Okay boys and girls, welcome to your first warzone! Prep yourselves, we’re splitting into platoons and amassing at the intersection at the end of Tunnel 20. Your lieutenants will be briefing you on the way, 5[sup]th[/sup] Platoon stay here. Dismissed!”

They dispersed in an orderly fashion, a fresh female lieutenant standing at ease with her green platoon. Francoise looked up to them and nodded at the woman known as Boukharouba. He waved them to relax and ordered 39ers to the front, also telling the 36ers and LMG-man to fix bayonets. He put them in a double file line with him and the lieutenant in the middle behind the last pair of 39ers. He gave a map to the 39er Sergeant at the front, telling him of the large distances they needed to cover and the amount of enemy contact they were to expect. With reassuring grins to each soldier, he set them off with unease creeping at the back of his mind. This was to be a standard intersection meet, so why was he feeling this unnerving feeling?
[hr]
“Cover! Enemy Tradies in fro-“ The sound of squelching flesh put the platoon into action, clamoring to the sides of the tunnel to find cover in stone outcroppings and forgotten mine equipment. Bullets pelted their position, finding both flesh and stone. Shouts from the front warned the rest of the platoon, finding cover and turning off their safeties. The chaos of the first firefight was a nightmare for all officers as Francoise rallied his soldiers to fire back. Trained to be fearless, the 39ers fired back first as the 36ers followed soon after. Looking for the LMG-man, he found a corpse with several holes in it, an FM 24/29 uselessly strapped to its back. He cursed himself as a round took a chunk of rock out of his cover, rocks scratching his cheek. He ducked down as rounds flew where his head once was. He looked around for the lieutenant and landed on a whimpering woman sitting behind some mining equipment. He had fought with equal amounts of fierce men and women in his life, both officer and soldier but he was disappointed by the veteran before him. She showed clear signs of trauma and shock. They sent a broken lieutenant into the battlefield to lead green soldiers into battle. This would not do.

“Lieutenant! Ma’am, what are your orders?!” The Frenchman shouted at her, trying to gain her attention. She kept shivering, holding her knees to her body as if to keep warmth. She mouthed [i]”alab”[/i] with her lips, staring blankly at the ground the Traditionalists fired back. He picked up a pebble and threw it at her head. She turned towards him and the emptiness in her eyes startled him. She was a disability, why was she here? 

[i]Soldier for life.[/i] That was the Algerian military motto. He sneered in disgust as he looked at the pitiful woman. There was protocol for such an occurrence, where the superior officer has stopped functioning in the middle of battle. He raised his rifle and fired, Boukharouba’s brains splattering against the wall. He sighed and tried to take command before being rudely interrupted by loud screaming. A foolish man who he did not know the name of picked up the FM 24/29 and started firing from the hip. Clearly not trained, some of the bullets went stray and hit a corporal tending to a wounded man. He screamed from the top of his lungs as he kept his finger firmly pressed down on the trigger. Several bullets pierced through his torso and head, dropping to the ground. These shots were much to accurate for some useless insurgent, a farmer who would’ve touched a guna few times in the head. He stared at the casings on the ground. These weren’t rusted, they were fresh.

Francoise stood to his feet and waved his arms, shouting at the top of his lungs “CEASE FIRE! CEASE FIRE YOU BUNCH OF IDIOTS WE’RE FRIENDLY! ALGERIAN MILITARY MASTER SERGEANT FRANCOISE!”

The gunfire halted on both sides. A small “oh” was heard from the other side. Francoise groaned. Joining the Algerians might have been the worst decision he could have made.