Field Commission 11

I pull up with my jeep to check Parvana's VCP. The whistle of a 20 mike mike warns me, "dive for it," I say, "incoming."
They do. It lands short by some fifty yards. Lights up the night sky and now it ain't Silent Night, Holy Night anymore.
Flipping my night vision goggles into the on position, I spot a heavy machine gun of centuries ago, just about ready to open fire. I beat them to it, blow the lot away. As the ammo cache goes sky high, we all cheer.
As Parvana and the gang trade small arms fire with Paddy, I set my blaster on phaser tracker and start blowing up the incoming mortar shells in midair.
Angry male Irish voice, "that ain't fair, all that sci fi gear you ***-****s have."
I holler back, "don't like it, try writing to your Member of Parliament, or the Minister of Defence."
"Holy Jaysus, I'm sorry, didn't realize you was Yanks. Cease fire, cease fire, alla youse. These here is Yanks, let's go get the Brits in the next street."
Loud raucous cheers.
I take stock, I have a half inch long scratch from a frag piece, everyone else is untouched. We sit, smoke and watch the next street light up.
A mini Morris slows to a halt for our VCP. I shine the light, just the driver. OY!! And who for a driver!
"Sir, please step out of the car."
He does. I lay him out cold with a night stick.
"Have you lost your ****ing marbles?" Parvana gasps.
"Recognize the face?"
"Nope."
"Well carry on with the VCP, I'm taking the boyo to Intel."
They are ecstatic, over the absolute moon. It's the Spetsnasz officer, arrest of the decade. They offer eggnog and cake. I push it away, I'm getting a really bad feel right now.
I thumb the com device, "Red Two, come in."
"Red Two here."
"All quiet?"
"So far."
"Get out. Right now. I'm getting bad vibes."
"Roger."
Two minutes later, a beep, Parvana is shouting, "holy dying ***** ****er. Got out with zip to spare."
I don't hafta ask, in the background I hear tanks clanking.
"Red Two drive back without headlights, use hand brake."
"Of course, you think I'm ****ing crazy?"
An Intel Captain, with typical Brit understatement, "we've had a report, estimated 50 tanks on Crumlin Road."
I nod.
She laughs, "beat me to it, got your VCP out?"
"Yep."
"Glad you are our ally and not our enemy, have some eggnog, no, no intoxicants in it."
"Thank you. Does it not seem odd? Checking shopping bags and car trunks? Where on earth would they have hidden that?"
"If we knew for sure, we'd have got them already. But a good guess, would be the nearby intermodal terminal, in containers."
"Ok, but surely even if they smuggle in hardware, how on earth do you hide that many crew? Belfast isn't much more than a big small town. That many strange faces would set off alarm bells."
"My guess, isn't foreigners, Irish neoNazis, a coup."
"And these neoNazis just happen to know how to use em?"
"Sunshine, it's a big world, you travel outside, you learn. Now watch the screen."
I see a missile tracking toward a tank. With ridiculous ease, it knocks out the lead tank. A second knocks out the rear.
"Well now," Capt says drily, "nowhere to go, now we negotiate."
Negotiations last two hours. An agreement, total amnesty for all coup participants, frontline or support, in exchange for peacefully handing over the tanks.
So, how did they get that stuff in? Declared the containers were full of scrap metal, to feed the nearby steel mill/shipyard complex.