OR1-EP2: Battle of Rhodesia (20)

McNeil had envisioned that he would one day be thrown into a prison or similar place for the first time in his life for some reason, but he hadn't expected that day to come so soon. This was both intentional on his part as well as a number of unforeseen factors. After a detailed analysis of Colonel Karl Duttmann's behavior over the past twenty years or so, McNeil concluded that Duttmann was unlikely to keep his end of the bargain, and that dealing with him by gentle means would not work. Kind words don't bring some people's conscience to life, and Colonel Duttmann will just keep shirking his responsibilities until he loses patience with them. So, McNeil decided to take the risk of making his position clear and then attacking Colonel Duttmann by force, so that the matter would become a big deal, and even if he was punished himself, he could draw attention to it, preferably in the person of Governor-general Herzog, who had been following the situation for a long time, and who would then have no excuse for Colonel Duttmann to swallow the money anyway.

The guards who watched over McNeil were friendly; they had heard that McNeil was the only survivor of the task force that had traveled to the north to exterminate the aboriginal rebels, and they took good care of him, and gave him three good meals a day. The guards played cards outside the door when they had nothing else to do, and sometimes McNeil, who watched their entertainment through the tempered glass, would give them a few pointers. After a while, the people soon became familiar with each other, and some people took the initiative to talk to McNeil about the reason why he was put into this temporary detention facility. McNeil didn't dare to tell the truth, fearing that everyone would suffer if the story leaked out, but only said that the colonel appeared to be embezzling the pensions of the dead. The guards were outraged when they found out what had happened, and said that Colonel Duttmann, who was trying to make money off the dead, was so self-interested that he was unworthy of being a human being, and that they had to find a way to seriously deal with this opportunistic villain.

"Did they say when they were going to let me out?" McNeil often asked this of the guard who brought him his food.

"Sir said someone will be here to release you in less than a week."

Each month of the Republican Calendar had only three weeks, and a week could be divided into ten days, which was somewhat different from the calendar McNeil used to recognize. Since Smilas dared to give this kind of guarantee, McNeil did not panic, he leisurely continued to recuperate in his cell, waiting for the savior who had the ability to set him free to appear. Five days later, the benefactor did appear, and it turned out to be Adalbert Herzog, who had traveled to visit McNeil. Major Herzog was not in uniform and was dressed like a young professional clerk going to the gym, except for the sinister look on his face that never changed. McNeil guessed that Adalbert had inherited his father's features in strange ways; whereas Governor-general Herzog was always smiling, Adalbert would always give the impression that he was on the eve of an emotional outburst.

"I guessed for sure it would be you who would come to me." McNeil did not seem surprised.

"That's for sure, because the others would only hang on to you out of affection, and I'm on a mission." It seemed that Adalbert didn't like to give others a run for their money, "McNeil, it would be best to keep this quiet to the public when you get out of here, we'll assist in this matter, and it would be good for the whole if we all took a step back from each other. His Excellency has spoken, your task force's firebombing of the reserve, while indirectly causing us to suffer heavy losses, has also eradicated the indigenous threat by destroying the living environment, and you count yourselves as benefactors to all the law-abiding citizens of South Africa. The Commanding general of the Guardian Corp has also stated that pensions must be paid to the families of each and every one of the deceased."

"I understand." McNeil nodded, he had seen similar things many times before, it wasn't as if James Solomon had become the head of the GDI military through people's sympathy for darker skins, and besides there had been Warren Fuller, the first Colored Full General in the history of the United States of America, before Solomon. Both of these men were far superior to their peers professionally and socially to be able to stand out from the stiff competition. Proper compromise was necessary, and McNeil didn't care what name it was in as long as he could get pensions for those teammates.

"Good, I'll go out and do the paperwork now, you'll probably have to wait a day or two." Adalbert instructed something else before he left, "His Excellency has a task he would like to give you, he thinks you're well suited for the job ... Details will come later, now is not the time."

McNeil had heard about the inefficiency of the EU authorities, so when he was informed the next morning that he could leave, his mouth opened wide enough to fit a light bulb. Adalbert Herzog sent someone to pick him up and send him straight back to the Transvaal before McNeil got into any more trouble in Rhodesia. Halfway there McNeil bought a newspaper and found that Governor-general Herzog had managed to cover up the accident in the north under the name of a fire. Perhaps no one will ever know the truth, much less that thousands of natives are buried in Rhodesia, and that soldiers under Karl Duttmann are working night and day to destroy the remains.

Adalbert wished to put McNeil up in a hotel, but McNeil, believing that he should avoid as much attention as possible after the trouble he had caused, insisted on going back to his old slum neighborhood. Major Herzog opposes this proposal, but he is unable to make the decision for McNeil and lets McNeil return to the neighborhood, which is a mixture of white and black natives.

McNeill does not really object to Adalbert's arrangement; his purpose is to return to visit Jake Land. When McNeil appeared in this strange world, it was old Jake who took him in and gave him a place to stay, otherwise he might have slept on the streets and later become a robber. McNeil thanked Old Jake from the bottom of his heart for his good deed; there were not many good men left who trusted strangers so readily in this age of worldly and moral decay.

"I should advise him to be more vigilant in the future, lest he run into a mugger."

McNeil returned to the neighborhood in a cab and accidentally found old Jake in the saloon that was suspected of selling counterfeit liquor. At a glance, he notices that the old man is radiant and energetic, and seems to be doing quite well these days. Wanting to surprise the old man and fearing that he might have a sudden heart attack, McNeil finally decided to stand outside the door and call the old man's name from a distance. The old man stood up from his chair in surprise, rubbed his eyes, and after confirming that the visitor was McNeil, he hobbled over to McNeil and hugged him tightly.

"I knew you could come back alive ... You are the character who can bring good luck to others." Old Jake pulled McNeil into the tavern, "Enough of the bad news, tell us what you saw in Rhodesia - perhaps we may have been to the same spot."

Remembering the strange underground military facility, McNeil began by telling the old man about the circumstances surrounding that facility. After hearing McNeil's description of the underground facility, the old man came to be interested and rattled off stories from his own time serving in Rhodesia. Although the old man was just an ordinary soldier at that time, his life experience was quite colorful compared to most of his peers, and there were even many secrets that outsiders would never be able to know.

"On the day of the Brumaire Goose in the 150th year of the Republican Calendar (October 1941 of the A.T.B. Calendar), Chinese and Indians in the far east invaded Madagascar, and an army dominated by Indians landed on the eastern coast of the island." Old Jake brought McNeil a couple of bottles of wine, set them on the table, and continued his story, "At that time, there was civil unrest in the Malagasy Commission, and a group of officers set up a military administration of their own with no legal status; at the same time, an indigenous rebellion broke out, and the whole of Madagascar was in disarray. At that time, we were all convinced that the enemy was soon to land on the Mozambique coast, and it was against this background that someone or other proposed to block the enemy's attack with a cluster of bunkers, and it was against this background that these underground installations came into being."

Of course, the enemy did not ultimately manage to land on East African Commission territory, and all these measures came to naught. It was a blessing for Old Jake, and for the young men of that era, that they were able to enjoy a full life rather than being dragged off to fill trenches. With the help of his drink, Old Jake told McNeil more about how they had lived in these underground facilities back in the day. In order to facilitate a predetermined strategy against the enemy, many of the underground facilities had marching routes painted on the walls, so that if the enemy dared to invade Rhodesia from Mozambique, the defenders would be able to counterattack directly according to the predetermined plan. If the plan went awry, that would be a problem on the part of Paris, and they would simply have to execute it.

"Wait, you're telling me that you guys back then would choose to paint the currently used combat scenarios right on the walls?" McNeil suddenly remembered something, "Was this customary or required by your superiors?"

"Both." Old Jake didn't give a precise answer, "Actually, we don't know if it's useful to do so... What's wrong? You don't look too good."

McNeil thought of the most absurd yet sad conclusion. The roadmap they had found in the underground facility had most likely not been drawn by the team members who had stayed there, but had been discovered by the rest of the team after they had left, and the team members had perhaps mistakenly thought the patterns were part of the instructions and decided to follow them as they were; meanwhile, the natives and Britannians who had set up an ambush here ahead of time might have seen the drawings on the same wall and set up their defenses accordingly. In this way, the sacrifices of those men became meaningless, and along with them, the lives of the natives lost their value; they all seemed to be just staging a lame and comical drama according to someone else's script that had been written long ago.

"It's nothing, I think of my comrades in arms, it's too bad for them." McNeil wiped his somewhat moist eyes, "That lieutenant of mine, he was just an ordinary laborer in the communications company, his job was to go around overhauling equipment. With his death, his parents and his wife and kids are out of pocket ... I've got to get this money for them and pay it out."

"You're doing the right thing, I'll support you." Old Jake solemnly patted McNeil's shoulder, "People always need to have the courage to challenge something they dare not think about in this life. I don't have that, you do."

McNeil didn't seriously investigate the family backgrounds and living conditions of these men; he only vaguely recalled that Colonel Duttmann had once said that these mercenaries were poor people desperate for money-and naturally, that included McNeil, who was a penniless hobo on the ground. Colonel Duttmann knew what the money would mean to those families and still chose to embezzle it without hesitation, an ugly act that was beyond McNeil's bottom line of patience. He approved of making some necessary sacrifices for the greater cause, and such behavior for purely personal gain could never be a crowning excuse.

"I may be away again in a few days." The two men drank their wine, and when it was finished, they began to talk of their work, "The only thing I miss here in South Africa is you, and as I promised you before, my share of the commission will be yours to keep. If you wish to acquire something new, feel free to use it without commissions."

McNeil watched Old Jake's face carefully. He detected a more positive frame of mind in Old Jake than he had some days before, and there had to be a reason for this change. Sure enough, Old Jake waved his hand repeatedly and said to McNeil in embarrassment:

"I don't need your money ... I have new bills; I have money now."

McNeil was overjoyed, he knew that the old man had no other means to make extra money on weekdays, and his only hope of getting rich was those lottery tickets. He approached the old man, looked up at the boss who was concentrating on polishing the wine glass, and asked in a low voice:

"Did you really win the lottery?"

"Of course, how can this be fake?"

"How much?" McNeil tried to calm down and keep his heart from beating out of his throat.

"Three million, which seems like a lot to me." Old Jake lowered his voice and said, "At that time I thought they were cheating me ... I thought for myself, I'm almost eighty years old, these crooks can't squeeze any oil out of me, let them come! Then I smashed my ass to get the money together to go to Rhodesia to claim my prize, and at that point I felt like I was going to have a heart attack ..."

McNeil nodded and kindly asked for details of the time:

"Outsiders don't know who you really are, do they?"

"They think I'm easy to fool ..." Old Jake smiled wryly, "I wrote blank checks, hired someone to impersonate me, and then went and claimed that money myself in a giant panda doll costume ... No one would really want to rob a veteran, would they?"

McNeil laughed so hard at the thought of Old Jake wearing a panda doll on a hot day to claim his three million euros that he almost passed out of breath. Seeing how happy McNeil was, Old Jake simply laughed along with him.

"So, I'm not short of money now." Old Jake said solemnly, "I'm still living here, firstly, because I can't let go of the neighbors, I've known for so many years, and secondly, because I've gotten used to the life of selling newspapers. However, you can't live your life as thinly as I did. The money I used to buy lottery tickets was supposed to be yours, and I would have supported it if you had planned to use it for business."

"Forget it, I'm not businessman." McNeil sighed, "Just keep the money safe, and when I come back, I'll give you a proper arrangement."

OR1-EP2 END

Chapter Notes:

In the last two hundred years, English speakers in Europe may have spoken a different English from that of Britannia due to the influence of the strong position of the French language.

WARNING:

The fact is, of course, Warren Fuller's actor is not people of color. This misunderstanding stems from a mistake I made over a decade ago when I first played Red Alert 3 due to his relatively dark skin color. Nonetheless, I realized that we need an RA3 version of Enoch Powell to make sure James Solomon could become the Commander-in-chief (Chief of general staff of GDI and Supreme Commander of UN military command) of entire planet. Technically, it's just to make sure that an African American is given the opportunity to have such a high status in a C&C-RA-General(C&C-G) combined worldview where we don't even know if the Civil Rights Act exists.

(Forgive me, . The Expendables is a great movie.)