News: Backlane Bloodshed

'Three men have been charged with aggravated assault following what has been described as an "unapologetic" attack on a group of bystanders who were misidentified as members of a rival group.'

'The group were playing football in the backlane mid-afternoon when the men, described as drunk and aggressive, approached the group hurling abuse and insults their way.'

'One man, identified as Patrick O'Brien, pleaded guilty without incident. He is waiting for a further court appearance.'

Update: Apologies

Sorry I haven't been updating this as frequently as I was before. I've got a lot of personal stuff going on right now (including moving house), as well as an African ImagiNation to be president of.

But some updates, I've jotted down what I want from RH models (AKA Liberation) and this will be the basis of my 3 forces. Sadly they don't do any RUC, Military Police, or the like as far as I can tell, which is a shame, and I don't want to mix manufacturers even though Elhiem do some great RUC miniatures.

Feel free to follow President Goodwill Hunter over at natonga.blogspot.com as he struggles against rebels with support from their former colonisers, the British.

A break down of the miniatures I'm planning to order:

- a variety of Falklands British in Berets with a variety of weapons (GPMG, Sterlings, SLR).

- a pack of Falkland Argentinians wearing Parkas and wooly hats (for paramilitaries wanting to keep warm).

- a number of their civilian packs, including a camera man and VIP, as well as armed with AK74s and SVDs.

- some of their Urban Meltdown range with a mixture of weapons (Uzis, M16s, AKs, and Brens).

Hopefully I'll have the order sent off soon and, as this is my first time ordering from them, I hope it is a pleasurable experience with both customer service and satisfaction!

Until then,

Cheers,

Sean.

Round the Back

The snow was fresh on the ground and Jack was waiting. It was going to be his last job, then he could settle down, be a family man again. Just one last job. He had a Tommy Gun, and was wearing a balaclava - he was an associate of the target.

The man in question was one Edward McGuire, or Eddie Fish to his friends. He was a fish monger from Monkwearmouth and sold fish and other items. He had a long curly perm and a thick moustache.

He slid the key into his front door and turned it. The snow had soaked his leather jacket and his hair was peppered with snow flakes.

Jack was stood at the rear of the house, watching and waiting. He stopped at the kitchen window and peared through. He could she Eddie's shadow moving in the hallway.

Eddie removed his coat and hung it on a peg behind the front door, 'shit' he said to himself, realising he had forgotten to get the eggs. He moved through the hallway into the living room and sat down. There were pictures on the walls of family members and a football plaque.

Jack moved to the back door and checked the handle, it was open. He pulled the door ever so slightly, trying to make as little noise as possible. He crept into the back hallway and closed the door behind him. His ankle boots made a soft noise on the carpet leading up to the living room.

Eddie heard the noises and became alert. He jumped up off of the sofa and snook to the door. 'Who the fuck's there?' He said, his voice trembling slightly.

'You know why I'm here, Eddie,' Jack said 'it's been coming to you for a long time, you want to thank Christ you lasted this long.'

'Jackie? Is that you?' Eddie said.

'Fuck' Jack said to himself. 'Get down on the ducking floor' he yelled at Eddie.

'OK, OK,' Eddie said, getting down on the floor, face down.

Jack entered the room and pointed the Tommy at Eddie. 'I'm sorry Eddie' he said.

News: Policeman Attacked

'PC Allan Whitman, 40, has been attacked in the Chester Road area of Sunderland today after clashes between armed police and republican protestors. Eye witnesses said that Whitman, a well respected man amongst Loyalist communities, was struck by a brick thrown at him from over a fence.'

'The fence in question was erected by a joint agreement between the police force and the British Armed Forces. This was to keep the warring communities apart, acting as a deterant. However, in the past months, there have been several cases in which members of both communities have scaled the fence in order to attack each other. Warning shots have failed to act as a deterant and the fence has garnered criticism from leaders on both sides.'

'Plans have been put into action to have the 10 foot security fence taken down, however many members of the acting council have declined any further action other than to increase security forces at the checkpoint.'

Update: Miniatures, Again

DISCLAIMER: These images are all from Elhiem and used without permission, for which I apologise.

Above: Image of balaclavad insurgents from Elhiem.

The above image shows some of the miniatures I'll be using as my paramilitary groups. As there are only three variants I'll be painting them all up differently (e.g. Blue jackets for SDF, black for SLA). If I'm brave enough, I might even try a head swap or two when I aquire heads from S and S models.

Above: Bareheaded Insurgents armed with AK47s from Elhiem.

I'll also be trying to sculpt balaclavas onto the above chaps, as well as some attempted head swaps. Again, paint jobs will differentiate the three paramilitary groups.

Although there aren't that many Varients to choose from, I'll be really happy when these miniatures arrive. It means the project can move forward! I'll also be picking up some insurgents from Enfilade and sculpting balaclavas onto those without. They also do some insurgents armed with M16s which could pass as ArmaLite AR-15s.

A Spot of Bother

LCpl. Johnson, Private Wilkinson, and Private Malone, walked down the empty street. It had been raining and the ground was sodden with water. 'FUCK THE SLA' was painted on the wall in big white letters. Johnson looked at it, frowned, and shook his head.

'Bastards,' he said 'Bloody bastards the lot of them.'

'You're not wrong there.' Malone said.

'Fuck off you royalist scum.' A voice said from a nearby second floor window, followed by a pint glass.

The glass smashed on Wilkinson's shoulder and he stumbled forwards 'Son of a bitch' he said holding onto the wound. 

The glass was followed by a table leg from another window, 'Fuck you lot.' The other voice said 'You oppressive bastards.' A brick came at the group from in front of them, it missed and landed a few feet ahead.

Malone and Wilkinson aimed their SLRs at the windows above in a hope to intimidate the aggressors. A red Ford Capri pulled up at the end of the road with the passenger window down. Johnson saw the familiar look of a rifle muzzle and he signalled his men to head for cover. Bang. A bullet caught Malone in the shin and he went down, half in cover behind a Ford Escort, his legs sticking out. Wilkinson pulled him fully behind the car.

'Shit, shit, shit' Malone said 'my fucking leg.'

'Don't worry mate, you'll be fine.' Wilkinson said 'I've got ya.'

Johnson raised his rifle over the top of the discarded rubbish bin and popped off a shot, it hit the passenger door of the Capri and spooked the shooter. The driver reversed and sped off around the corner.

'I think they're gone,' Johnson said 'everything alright over there?'

'Just a flesh wound.' Wilkinson said.

'A fucking flesh wound?' Malone said.

'You'll be fine mate.' Wilkinson said.

Pledge of Allegiance

'I [Enter Name Here] do solemnly swear that I will defend this land for Queen and Country, and may God bless me in my mission. I will never harm my brothers, nor their families, never put my brother's lives at risk, and never, above all, betray them.'

Sunderland Loyalist Assocition, Oath.

One In The Back

Paul knelt by the wall, his SMG at the ready, and looked down his sights. He closed his left eye and fingered the trigger lightly. Jimmy knelt behind him and acted as a look out. In his sights, Paul could see members of the SLA, standing, at a makeshift checkpoint. 

One member had his back to Paul and he, he had decided, would be his target. Paul licked his lips and trained the sights on the unfortunate chap.

'I'm gonna get that Queen loving fuck right in the back, just watch me.' Paul said.

'Aye?' Jimmy said 'I'll believe it when I see it mate.'

'Shut up, will you? Nobody asked for your opinion.'

A car pulled up at the checkpoint, it was red and rusty, and the target moved towards the passenger window. He reached in and took some documents off of the driver. Paul took advantage of the distraction and squeezed the trigger. Bang, bang, bang. The bullets hit the target and he fell forward against the car, bleeding. The passenger, a young lady, screamed and it pierced the air.

The man on the other side of the car rested his AK on the roof of the car and pulled the trigger. The bullet hit the brick in front of Paul and he ducked his head back around the corner. More shots hit the brick wall behind them, causing bits of brick and powder to shoot out onto the back lane.

'What now?' Jimmy said 'we're fucked.'

'As if, we've just gotta plan this out Jimma.' Paul said, creeping his head around the corner.

Another shot caused him to dart his head back around the corner. Shouting could be heard from the checkpoint and it appeared to get closer and closer: 'Come out now, we aren't fucking around, I'll give you one chance, that's it.' The voice had a distinct Belfast accent.

'We're gonna have to give up, Paul.'

'Nonsense Jimma.'

Jimmy got up and stepped out from the wall. Paul heard a shot. He heard it make contact with flesh. He saw Jimmy hit the floor, blood pooling at his head. He knew he was next. He dropped his gun and legged it along the backlane. Bullets wizzed past him, striking the red bricks on either side of him.

Playing With Fire

His hand trembled as he held onto the glass bottle. The inside was filled with petrol and an oily rag hung half out - half stuffed in.

He crept along the brick wall, 'JOIN THE SDF' was sprayed across the bricks in white paint with a badly painted Union Jack to its left. He came to the corner and peered around the edge. Three balaclavad men stood some 10 metres away, chatting and at ease. Members of the SRM, surely. He lifted the naked flame of the lighter up to the tip of the oily rag. It caught alight.

Shaking with nerves, he quickly turned around the corner and tossed the glass bottle towards the men. It landed 12 feet away from them and exploded in a ball of flames. The closest to the flames staggered forward, turning around - gun raised - and looked, half squinting, at the source of the projectile. A scraggy haired head shot back behind the wall.

He was on the move, running through the back alleys, not looking back, heartbeat thumping in his ears, longing for home. Any minute now he expected a bullet to hit him from behind. 

He took a left and hugged his back against the wall, panting, he felt naucious but he knew his big brother would be proud. He heard no footsteps or commotion at all and knew the coast was clear. He pushed himself away from the wall and turned the corner, bumping into three armed men.

Sunderland Loyalist Factions

Above: Sunderland Loyalist Association (SLA) members dressed in black, armed with a variety of weapons.

Above: Members of the Sunderland Defence Force (SDF) dressed in casual clothing armed with AKs.

Within the town of Sunderland there are two main Loyalist groups, the SLA and the SDF, both of which fight against the SRM in and around Sunderland. Their numbers are low but they make up for that in their determination to fight for Queen and Country.

They get their arms from a number of sources, including the British Army and include SLRs and AK47s. They also have access to Sterling SMGs and Browninh Hi Power handguns.

They work in cohesion with the British Army and act as an auxiliary unit, patrolling areas with high Republican activities. Gunfire has been heard around the Grindon area, as well as around the town centre, with Loyalists fighting alongside the British Army.

Although both of the Loyalist paramilitaries are fighting for the same cause, there are many cases of inter-fighting between the two groups.

DISCLAIMER: Although my project holds parallels to that of The Troubles, I do not condone the actions of either side of the conflict and I believe that it was a terrible time in British, and Irish, history.