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Napalm

Napalm - Sam's Account

Beneath the 'TOP SECRET' document heading a subtitle read: 'Barros Napalm Strike' I knew that on the island we had a small fleet of aeroplanes; jet engined, agile, machines, which could be used in a Napalm strike. But why Barros? Surely we weren't going to force our way into some food?

It seemed that on the island we had a large amount of military resources at our disposal. There was the small fleet of planes; and the napalm; the only resource apparently available, and two battleships which could roam the straight of Cornio. To add to that there was a small army of able-bodies soldiers, with a cache of sub-machine guns at their disposal.

Apparently Napalm was most available as there was an abundance of Napthenic and Palmitic acid. Together these created Napalm; a gelling agent mixed with fuel to create a highly flammable weapon, then dropped from attack planes. If we had enough it would burn Barros to the ground.

Most definitely the island of Barros wouldn't stand a chance in a fight, never mind an unexpected attack. Why didn't they just threaten them with violence, instead of using it instantly? Things weren't adding up, and my chance to finish the document were interrupted by my Father's re-entrance into the room.

"Sam?" He called out my name, his charcoal suit blending in with the dull shades of the shadowy room.

"What's this dad?" I asked innocently.

"Nothing," he snapped, seizing up his leather briefcase "You shouldn't be nosing in other people's business!" His short moustache bristled in displeasure, his weathered hazel eyes staring accusingly at me. I was almost his height by now, and was beginning to peak growth at the age of sixteen. My father and I were almost completely unalike, the only feature we shared were the hazel-coloured eyes. But he wore his deep-set and menacing, mine twinkled with the curiosity of youth.

My father strode out of the room, and took himself and his briefcase upstairs. I crashed onto the sofa, and played with the dull fabric beneath my fingers. Things were exceptionally boring in Teasdale, and times were dire, but surely a full-scale attack on our unexpecting neighbours wasn't the answer?

***

The head of the government; Gray Steels, was dressed in a plain black suit, with a turquoise tie, and tidy black shoes. His mousy brown hair was combed over to the left, and his small squat figure was almost comical. He strode purposefully across the tarmac runway he had exited his SUV onto.

Night was rolling in on Teasdale island, and the humid conditions of the day had swayed gently into a cool breeze. Gray stood beside ten aeroplanes, their pilots in a line before him.

"We're all ready Mr. Steels," the man in charge of the pilots announced.

"Good," Gray spoke in his clipped and formal manner "The attack begins in one hour, whilst darkness encompasses the weak of Barros."

Gray left the pilots with this instruction, and he slid into the blacked-out SUV waiting in the asphalt just off the runway, one of the only cars on the island. Beside him sat Matthew Carnes, his second in command.

"Is it all going according to plan sir?" he asked

"Yes," answered Gray "get the ships into position, the napalm is fired tonight, and then we strike them whilst they are on their knees. We round them up, we round the resources, then we are in the strongest possible position to negotiate," he allowed a chuckle to escape his thin and piercing lips.