November 8, Rangoon
Stavros had been gone for days now, Gifford had sent him with several men to conduct operations in the countryside while coordinating efforts from the city. However, he was two days late with the latest sortie. The either meant nothing or the worst. Gulping down water the MI6 operative wiped the sweat off his brow, November was considered one of the so called “cool” months but considering how warm it was outside this was bloody ridiculous.
Eventually Stavros would abruptly appear, uniform torn with a smell that reeked of sweat, gunpowder and death. Mansfield mused this was one of his better days.
“What you got for me?” The Lieutenant had issued a cigarette to the exhausted basterd.
“We got several leads to some of the insurgent heads and acted upon a couple, while we didn’t find any leaders we did run into a few agitators in nice groups for us to arrest, any who put up a fight were cut down. Rarely did we take any wounded in for interrogation.”
“Any casualties?”
“None sir, just men who want hot showers and good food.” Stavros gave a curt nod.
“You get 48 hours mate. We need to keep going, London wants results to stave off a potential disaster. Wouldn’t want Presley hung out to dry here, or literally hung for that matter.” A morbid, though slightly amusing thought. Mansfield had respected the man but found the notion of deploying weapons of the non-conventional variety to be highly suspect.
“You coming with us this time around? I can only imagine Rangoon is…what do you call it? Dreadfully boring Giffy.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Sir yes sir.”
For the next several days it would be more of the same, covert anti-insurgency operations would indeed net more and more hostile individuals but try as they might there wasn’t any big fish caught. The only good news out of this was that while their maneuvers have failed to detain any high ranking targets, it served to disrupt them and force them further underground. However, the side-effect of this was the enemy became that much more elusive.
This all changed on November 21st when Aung San’s second in command became disillusioned and decided to cut a deal with the British. In exchange for a commonwealth, the prevention of the communist party from participating in any election and the premiership itself U Nu accepted the deal and gave up the exact location of Aung San.
November 22, Shan Countryside
It would be dawn soon, Gifford had quickly recalled his men and stitched together a group of seven for the critical operation. It could tip the balance in their favor in Burma in eliminating a key agitator and communist sympathizer. At long last they had found Aung San’s exact location in the Shan Countryside. Everyone was issued a Webley 38 Mk. IV although Gifford decided to stick with his Colt M1911 pistol, it was a gift that had saved him on two occasions. The village was rather remote, no map would reveal it but it did not matter. A contact had confirmed the precise structure Aung San was residing in. There were no enemy patrols and guards were rather sparse. Probably to not give away any hint of a valued target or to draw any unwanted attention.
The plan would be to sneak up to the house and attack from the front and backdoor using silenced Sten Mk. 2 sub machineguns. In the event of enemy reinforcements the order would be to go loud as Stavros would cover the group’s escape with the coveted Lewis Gun. The heavy machinegun was actually on loan for this operation, a result of Gifford’s bribery of the requisitions officer back at Rangoon.
As they reached the target under the fleeing cover of night, Mansfield would take point at the front door giving the signal to enter. The whole affair would last a mere 8 seconds. Aung had been sleeping on the floor along with some of his closest confidants with two men acting as sentries. The moment they had raised their weapons the guards had given away their position to be gunned down with hardly a sound. Bullets flew filling the hapless men with lead, the group would search the bodies looking to identify their valued target. Kneeling over one of the corpses, Mansfield identified the man they had been searching for, his chest gushing out blood from three bullet wounds with another to the neck.
Hurrying out Stavros seemed quite dejected that he could not use his burrowed toy but as a demolitions expert he would always find other amusements to muck about in, Gifford was certain.
Several months later the men had fully expected to depart Burma and head off to either Afghanistan or even Spain to resume their focus against the Communists. However, this was not to be. Gifford’s contact in Greece, the head of Athens station Nigel Clive had broken the news to him. Following the Third Panglong Conference, the ethnonational independence of Shan and Kayin occurred, two states unaffiliated with the Statue of Westminster. Privately there were rumors that the Burmese Dominion, despite Prime Minister U Nu’s efforts, was disintegrating. With Soviet moves alarming the West, there would be no departure from this front not if The Raj wanted to be potentially surrounded by hostile governments. Mansfield and his men were to stay for the duration, returning to the homeland remained a rather distant dream.
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