Other Stories – Fiction

Dispatch Feb. 10, 2010

We arrived in Guadalajara individually from diverse locales, but with one thought in mind, trekking into Costa Rica with the goal of unseating the elected government and installing a Queen. Queen Annie the First. We had long ago decided that democracy does not work and here was the perfect place to return to a Monarchy. Having a monarch with unlimited power is the only way to control the stinking masses and force them into a better life. Oh, we expected harsh resistance in the beginning, as the newly elected woman president won in a landslide, but we also know that Costa Rica has no standing Army, no Navy, no Air Force, and no intelligence service. A few hundred police are all that stand in our way. Ill equipped and trained, underarmed after decades of peace, it doesn’t seem likely they would be able to stem our advance, as long as our propaganda division does it’s job securing the hearts and minds of the masses along the way.

Eventually; benign, benevolent rule would bring our task to an end as she meters out justice or punishment, as required, evenhandedly as she is capable of doing, to the great delight of the masses, as we expect. But first we must subdue the country and her people so that they may enjoy her rule. And to that end we have gathered south of Guadalajara to plan our attack. The boys have already chosen me as Supreme Commander, probably because of the impassioned rhetoric which easily flowed from my mouth on the first evening we were all together as I explained the rightness and historical inevitability of our task. It didn’t hurt that no one else wanted the job. I have chosen a Field Commander – Casey, strong of heart with a gentle soul, he will make an accomplished second in command. I, of course, answer only to my conscience, my duty, and to Queen Annie. The road will be difficult, but we all know our duty, and intend to accomplish great things to attain our goal and glory. Those that don’t know her directly have heard the rest of us speak of her and seen her visuals and have, from the force of our conviction, accepted her inevitable assumption of the throne and the simple rightness of our endeavor. The rest are simply soldiers who do their duty, along for the adventure.

We arrive in Costa Rica in 3 days. But now we needed to concentrate on obtaining our supplies and weapons. Guadalajara has many fine carpenters we have enlisted to supply our rifles and pistols, which we have already hidden in our vehicles, while the Office Depot conglomerate unwittingly will supply our ammunition. We discussed grabbing and dashing with the ammunition as our budget is limited. Annie is a true artist and thus suffers for her art by being financially insecure but I asked for donations from the troops and was satisfied at their willingness to turn over a sufficient amount to pay the blood sucking capitalists. This bodes well for our effort as the troops are committed. I admit I shuttered slightly when the checker, an older woman with a pocked face and the hint of a mustache, glared at our purchase of 25 gross of black, extra strong, 6” rubber bands and 25 gross of 8”ers. The rubbers will ensure our success, for who can withstand the welts such a projectile will inflict on those hapless enough to step into our line of fire. Perhaps the checker is an operative from Costa Rica? Had our mission been compromised this early in the game? But we paid close attention and found no tail of our vehicles as we left Guadalajara.

Several hours later, our four vehicles, 2 cars and 2 vans, arrived at the coast. One of our members has a yacht large enough to carry our contingent of 25 to the Costa Rican shore in relative comfort, along with our supplies and armaments. We all have our passports but we intend to skirt any local problems by landing 84 clicks due west of San Jose’. This avoids the border crossings by vehicle at Guatemala, Honduras, and Nicaragua. All countries with a substantial standing army. The land route would give us a southerly route into Costa Rica but to no great advantage over our planned easterly route from Puntarenas to San Jose’. The sea route will help avoid any unpleasantness with local forces along the land route. Although we haven’t a plan for transportation after our sea voyage, we expect our skills will see to that.

This kind of operation is welcomed by our group. Although many have experience from decades ago, we are all healthy and strong and don’t expect this operation to be all that taxing. All of us have combat experience and most of it in jungle situations though Jensen is a vet of two desert wars. We’ve all taken turns making fun of his lack of jungle missions and his seeming total misunderstanding of jungle flora and fauna though secretly all of us doubt our own knowledge of Costa Rican jungles. We don’t expect his lack of jungle expertise will affect our mission though, and his skill with M-3’s is required. He’s a good soldier and we expect him to perform well. Four others are vets of the desert but they keep to themselves and don’t make it obvious that their lack of jungle knowledge should be a target of ribbing for the rest of us. After the good natured ribbing, I saw to it that Jensen’s ego was soothed and enhanced. We don’t need any slackers not committed to the mission simply because of hurt feelings. What would Annie think. Meanwhile, we all are remembering that the pain of battle goes away during a black out, so while we wait for action, we drink.

We arrive in Manzanillo on the coast after a 4 hour trip. This time of year it’s cool in the mountains, balmy down near the coast and the fair weather did much to brighten our spirits and brought out our natural instincts to get to know our comrades closely. But not too closely, as we might not all make it to our objective. Myself, I overheard the conversations here and there as the men grouped together but preferred to remain aloof…such is the pain of command. The pleasure of command is to bring together a diverse group of trained individuals into a cohesive force that will react instantly to my commands without thought. A fighting machine. With one objective. To see that Queen Annie is sitting on her rightful throne in under four months. May the gods be with us. – End of dispatch.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *