Raven

In The Beginning

One of the most well-known, trained and equipped private military contractors on the planet, Operation 40 Solutions is headed by ex-Marine Jonathan Alexander Mason. Known for their unquestionable, unwavering discipline and skill in combat, the company has been seated in US Military operations since their founding in 1980.

Sunday, June 16th, 1991

John "Twitch" Mason

Joint Operation: O40S/USPDR

Task Force Raven/Task Force Talon

Calonda-Angola

11:53Am

Growing up, my Daddy always taught me that the scariest words in the English language were, "I'm from the government and I'm here to help." Well, after 20 years with the US Marines, service during the tail end of Vietnam and a couple of other hotbeds around the world, the dark shit I did during the Cold War and now seeing the shit that was going on here in Angola, I've learned that my old man was most certainly onto something. That being said, I won't deny that there are a few exceptions to that rule, as there are for all. The exception to the rule in question was a thirty five year old African soldier by the name of Rylond Hendricks. Up until a few weeks ago, he had just been another stiff with a gun in the sea of armed men that were currently fighting over the sovereignty of Angola. Then, the man who was commanding the regional forces had been killed in a surprise attack, and it was there that Hendricks, who now held the rank of General, had shown his colors. He had organized regional forces and local militia in a manner that I'd expect out of seasoned, well-educated western officers who had been in the military for longer than I had, and I was an old man in a profession where men die young. It certainly was a case study to watch a man with no leadership training who couldn't read and barely write build something that, in my opinion, could rival and professional force out there. Of course, a shipment here and there of AKMNs, some old Tokarevs, ammo and web gear, sourced by a few favors owed to yours truly by some good people in the KGB had turned these men into a real military. Many of them were quick learners, and took the weapons instruction offered by myself and my allies eagerly. Now, with opposing forces once again closing in on Calonda, they would be in for the shock of their lives.

Early one morning, my best friend Hudson and I were at our post in the bell tower of the only Catholic Church in town, along with about a dozen other militia members whom were manning a very well dug in artillery battery which consisted of two O40S supplied 105mm howitzers. They had picked the operation of the guns up quick, and in the past few days, had killed eight soviet tanks that had attempted to lead a charge into town. Hudson and I were merely spotting targets for them, taking pot shots at enemy fighters with our AK's when the opportunity presented itself. The DRC had been posted up in neighboring Lucapa and for the last four weeks had been harassing us with artillery strikes that were inching ever closer to the town lines. Our guys were returning fire when they could, based on what Taro's team was telling us over the radio, however we knew that they had anti-aircraft guns in place, since Blitz had almost been shot down about a week after we got here, so the intel was spotty, at best. Taro didn't want any of his guys getting close enough to call in accurate strikes, since they'd be too big a target. Couldn't say I blamed him. I wiped the sweat off my face with my Shemagh, digging into my chest rig for my camo paint, which I reapplied.

"I'd give anything for a fucking air conditioner that worked. Fuck, even a box fan'd be nice."

Hudson, a longtime friend and my second in command nodded, not looking away from the scope of his Remington 700, "Yep, I'll take the jungle over this goddamned dust and bugs any day of the week."

"Got anything on the old scope?" I asked putting the camo away, picking my binoculars back up.

"I ain't got nothing dude. Place is dead."