The East PacificBoard

Another freight leaves Corfort harbor in the state of Cordale. Probably another export to The Angel of Charity, full of cookies. At least that is what they think. It happens to be a very quiet day, unusual, but well accepted. Seagulls fly around and land on the beach, but that is a normal sight. A older man sits on a lawn chair, looking at the vast ocean. A military officer approahes him. “Sir!” He said, saluting to the old man. The old man nodded his head, signing the officer to end the salute. “Yes, Capitan?” The old man asked. “An order from the President himself, sir.” The officer pulled out a price of paper. “It says that a new naval operation will be carried out against Kartokistan”. The old man nodded again. “I never liked that nation. I am a conservative, but him putting liberals in work camps? Sounds like a Nazi ideologically to me. Thank you, Capitan”. The Capitan saluted once more, and walked away.

Two weeks later, five fleets were fully preped for the invasion. Soldiers walked in sync with eachother, as they boarded the many transports. The invasion was underway.

“Admiral!” A young Deckhand aboard the CSS Liberty knocks on the Admiral’s office door. “Come in.” The Admiral replied. When the Deckhand walked in, the smell of tobacco filled his nose. The room reminded him of 1950s Crime Dramas, but he darned not mention that. The Admiral put down his cigar. “What is it?” He asked, slightly annoyed. “The fleets have entered Kartokistan waters, sir.” The Deckhand replied. The Admiral looked at his watch. He chuckled. “Huh. They made good time.” He picked up his cigar, and twirled it in his fingers. “You know where to find the General in charge of the ground offensive?” He asked The Deckhand. The Deckhand nodded. “Good. I trust Greater felter will provide air support.” The Admiral then motioned for The Deckhand to leave. The Deckhand saluted, and walked out. It was time.

The Angel of Charity
Kartokistan
Greater felter

I was born on a Dublin street where the royal drums did beat,
And those loving English feet they tramped all over us,
And each and every night when me father came home tight
He'd invite the neighbors outside with this chorus:
Come out ye Black and Tans, come out and fight me like a man,
Show your wife how you won medals down in Flanders,
Tell them how the IRA made you run like hell away
From the green and lovely lanes of Killashandra.
Come tell us how you slew them poor Arabs two by two,
Like the Zulus they had spears and bows and arrows,
How you bravely faced each one with your 16-pounder gun,
And you frightened them poor natives to their marrow.
Come out ye Black and Tans, come out and fight me like a man,
Show your wife how you won medals down in Flanders,
Tell them how the IRA made you run like hell away
From the green and lovely lanes of Killashandra.
Come let us hear you tell how you slandered great Parnell,
When you thought him well and truly persecuted,
Where are the sneers and jeers that you bravely let us hear
When our heroes of '16 were executed?
Come out ye Black and Tans, come out and fight me like a man,
Show your wife how you won medals down in Flanders,
Tell them how the IRA made you run like hell away
From the green and lovely lanes of Killashandra.
Well the day is coming fast and the time is here at last,
When each yeoman will be cut aside before us,
And if there be a need, sure me kids would sing, "Godspeed, "
With a verse or two of Stephen Behan's chorus:
Come out ye Black and Tans, come out and fight me like a man,
Show your wife how you won medals down in Flanders,
Tell them how the IRA made you run like hell away
From the green and lovely lanes of Killashandra.