grass. He glanced over at Muller. 'I'm going to put you in for a commendation, Sargento. Your timely warning of attackers probably saved the garrison.'

Muller nodded. 'It was a hell of a fight, eh, Suboficial Punzarron?'

Punzarron actually grinned. 'It was a lot of fun, wasn't it?'

There would be peace now between the two. They were a couple of old soldiers who had cleared the air between them.

.

BIG CREEK

0500 HOURS

MILLY Mills brought Charlie Team in from its rear guard duties. He sought out Brannigan to report that there was no pursuit, then asked, 'How's Lieutenant Cruiser?'

'He was hit twice in the right side,' Brannigan answered. 'Bradley said one of the bullets didn't exit. He's afraid it's in the spine. Cruiser can't feel or move his legs.'

'Shit!' Milly exclaimed. 'He ain't paralyzed, is he, sir?'

'Bradley can't tell,' Brannigan said. He turned to Chief Matt Gunnarson. 'You're commander of the First Assault Section for now. Take over.'

'Aye, sir.'

Bradley watched as Taylor and Cinzento gently placed Cruiser in one of the piragua boats. After the officer was made comfortable, the rest of the detachment boarded the other craft for the trip back up the Rio Ancho to the base camp.

Chapter 6

SEAL BASE CAMP 6 DECEMBER

1800 HOURS LOCAL

LI E UTE NANT (J. G.) Jim Cruiser still had no feeling in his legs nor could he move them when he was placed aboard the Petroleo Colmo Company's Aerospatiale Gazelle helicopter for medical evacuation. Hospital Corpsman James Bradley supervised as Bruno Puglisi and Paulo Cinzento slid the stretcher into the aircraft's passenger compartment. Just before the cargo door was closed, Cruiser raised his right hand with the thumb extended to show his brother SEALs he still had a lot of fight left in him, even if it was mostly spiritual. He had taken a brutal physical battering from the almost simultaneous impact of the 9-millimeter slugs.

Brannigan and the others stood in silence as the chopper lifted into the air, then turned south toward civilization. No one moved for several long moments. The terrible potential consequences of the 2IC's injuries were foremost in their minds, along with that shameful personal thought of I'm glad it wasn't me.

Brannigan snapped them back to the present. 'Listen up! We're going to have to reorganize a bit. Chief Gunnar-son will take over the First Assault Section. Petty Officer Lamar Taylor will move into his place as leader of Alpha Fire Team.' He looked around. 'Where the hell is the Odd Couple?'

'Here, sir!' Mike Assad and Dave Leibowitz called out simultaneously.

'I'm going to give you guys a break,' Brannigan said. 'You've been running your asses off. You'll go to Alpha Fire Team as riflemen. Petty Officers Redhawk and Murchison will take your places as detachment scouts.'

'We ain't tired, sir,' Mike protested.

'I didn't ask if you were,' Brannigan said, knowing that stubborn pride was behind the protest. A SEAL just naturally disliked being put in a position where he appeared as if he weren't up to the job. The Skipper soothed the hurt feelings by adding, 'When we move back into high gear, I want you jumpy and eager. Now! All the section commanders and team leaders report to me at my CP, which is located at this exact spot where I'm standing. The rest of you get out on the perimeter except for Frank Gomez.'

'You want me to do something, sir?' the commo man asked.

'Right,' Brannigan replied. 'Get on the Shadowfire and raise Alfredo. Tell him we need reinforcements yesterday.'

'Aye, sir!' Frank replied. He got his entrenching tool and headed for the cache where the radio was hidden.

The unit leaders moved closer to the Skipper. He grinned at them. 'I swear I'm having more staff meetings than Pentagon lieutenant commanders.'

'Your office ain't quite as elegant as theirs, sir,' Senior Chief Buford Dawkins commented, looking around the area next to the feted swamp.

'You ain't got a good-looking secretary either,' Connie Concord added.

'At any rate, we're going to have to get into an aggressive hit-and-run program,' Brannigan said. 'The Falangists outnumber us and undoubtedly will be sending out some serious recon and combat patrols to yank our chains. So we want to beat them to the punch. We're going to leave the base camp closed up and get the hell out of here for awhile. All detachmentsize operations will be curtailed for the time being. Sections and teams will operate separately on insurgency missions, but we'll stick as close together as possible to support each other when necessary. Moving around and biting at the enemy will keep him guessing and nervous. We'll also take advantage of the helicopter support we've got from Petroleo Colmo Company for resupply and to set up some scattered caches.'

'Them bright red helicopters are like lit beacons flying through the sky,' Gutsy Olson complained.

'They've been zipping around the area for months,' Brannigan reminded him. 'The Falangists and everybody else think they're exploring for oil in the Gran Chaco.'

Frank Gomez came back from his commo chore and ripped off a page from his message pad, handing it to Brannigan. 'Here's your answer, sir.'

Brannigan read it, then shook his head. 'No reinforcements available. It doesn't say if the situation is permanent or temporary. One thing I've learned in all my years of service is that the worst-case scenario is the one that's going to jump out and bite you. We're on our own.'

'It's enough to piss off a saint,' Chief Matt Gunnarson said.

'We're enough to piss off a saint,' Milly Mills added.

.

HEADQUARTERS, BANDERA 1

GENERALISIMO Javier de Castillo y Plato had decided to give the headquarters garrison a name. The bucolic post would become larger as soon as Bandera 2 joined them. He had spent most of the previous night trying to decide which Spanish hero or heroic incident was good enough to be commemorated at this first official DFF military garrison.

Just before dawn, the decision was made. The generalisimo decided the camp would be dubbed Campamento Astray after one of Spain's most colorful military leaders. In fact, much of this inspiration for the twenty-first- century fascist organization came from that man.

.

MILLAN Astray, the son of a lawyer, was born in La Coruria, Spain, in 1879. He began his military career at the Infantry Academy in Toledo in 1894 where he earned a commission as a subalterno de infanteria. Two years later he was shipped to the Philippines to fight against the indigenous rebels seeking to overthrow their Spanish masters. It was in that vicious campaign that Astray earned his first decoration for bravery when he defeated two thousand rebels with only thirty men under his command in a battle at San Rafael.

He was subsequently transferred back to Spain as a capitan, where he served as a teacher of military science and tactics at his alma mater, the Infantry Academy. By 1912 he had tired of the peaceful existence and volunteered to return to combat. This time they shipped the gung ho officer out to Morocco to fight indigenous African rebels. Five years later, after he was once again posted to Spain, Astray put forth an idea of forming a foreign legion similar to that of France to campaign in the Dark Continent's desert area. After being sent for a close-up study of la Legion Extrangere of France he came back to Spain to form la Legion Extranjera of Spain. This earned him a promotion to the rank of teniente-coronel and command of the new foreign legion he had designed.

When the first recruits arrived in la Legion, Astray told them to forget their former lives, women and families. Everything they needed would be furnished until they died in battle. And death would be their inevitable fate. They

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