The men were ready. For weeks, bunkers and trenches and mines and hedgehogs have been set up on the beaches. 102 SK-105s, as well as 6 Leopard 1a1s and M60 Pattons, along with 5 flak canons and 412 soldiers were stationed in each of the 50 overlapping sections the defenses were divided in. Men waited patiently among the coastline, watching a beautiful beach, but for a nasty reason. Many days had gone by. The 7th Estonian Platoon was, unsurprisingly, bored. Georg Olev had become the lieutenant of the platoon, after the last had died in the siege of Oshkosh, on the Waupunese War on Terrorism. He had healed nicely from the injuries, although he still mourned the loss of Artjoms, lieutenant of the 3rd Latvian platoon and leader of the mission. There was no time for mourning then, because the men stationed at Rio were about to loose their boredom.
“Hey Georg, is it just me or are there some stars shining.... awkward?”
“It’s probably nothing Ahrur”
“But, there are many of them”
“Hmm..... REHI! Fetch my binoculars!”
“Yes sir” a conversation went by. Though some soldiers were eerie, Olev kept calm. That is, until he checked the binoculars.
“Eeeeh, I can barely see! I should have sent my digital hub googles to the mechanic, and not scrap them, night vision would be good right now. I can kind of see something though. It looks like a wing.. OH MY GOD IT’S A YUGO PLANE!”
“SOUND THE ALARM” someone shouted. Sirens went off. All soldiers came alert and looked at the sky. Flak was as ready as ever. It was estimated that fighter support would arrive in half an hour, and those planes were two minutes away from the shore. No ships were identified, though. “MEN” Georg spoke “TO THE BUNKERS! GET COVER!”. Soldiers scrambled to get inside the bunker complex imbedded on the hilly beach of Rio de Janeiro. Soon, flak could be heard. And then, whistles. An orchestra of whistles gradually getting louder and louder until...
