keep the dust out of sensitive gear.'
'Are you calling for combat vests or LBEs?' Berringer asked.
'The vests will work fine for our second-line equipment,' the chief replied. 'That'll include a day's MREs, the medical kit, two-quart canteen, frag grenades, binoculars, the GPS and water purification tablets. The third-line Equipment will be carried in the rucksacks. That's a basic load of MREs, entrenching tool; poncho, poncho liner, hammock, mosquito netting, extra socks, water bladder, an extra BDU, and night vision goggles. I checked with Alfredo, and he says there'll be no problem with resupply. It will be brought in by the same oil company we'll use for medevac. So we don't have to hump in two tons of stuff into the OA. Also, on account of security and concealment problems, there's gonna be plenty of FRHs for heating the MREs. It's gonna be rare when we'll be able to enjoy the coziness of fires. That's it!'
That was the end of the brief back, and Carey stood up. 'You're ready to go, as far as I'm concerned flown to Argentina on different airlines, dressed in civilian clothes. Your equipment will go down through CIA channels, and you'll pick it up down there. Alfredo will work out your infiltration into the OA. Times and places will be given you as soon as it's all firmed up. Good luck guys:'
'Be careful out there,' Berringer said.
The two staff officers walked out of the briefing area, and Senior Chief Dawkins turned to the detachment. 'Okay, people. We've got to get our gear, detachment equipment, and other crap ready for the flight down south. Turn to it!'
The SEALs hurried back to the rear of the building.
Chapter 2
EL CENTRO DE TRANSPORTES BUENOS AIRES, ARGENTINA
25 NOVEMBER
1400 HOURS LOCAL
THE trucking center was a staging area for all interior shipments from the port of Buenos Aires. This cargo was not only sent to destinations in that country but to freight depots in landlocked Bolivia. The place bustled madly twenty-four hours a day as containers offloaded from merchant ships onto the trucks at the docks were brought in to be put into the transportation mill that would distribute the goods to their destinations. To the casual observer, the place would seem to be in disruptive chaos, moving slowly but inextricably toward its own self-destruction. But somehow the system worked, and the loaded vehicles were sent on their way.
One of the trucking companies was an innocuous outfit set off in a far corner of the shipping yard. This was Estrella Roja Transportes, S. A., which had no more than an office with a small warehouse located behind it. At that moment Lieutenant Wild Bill Brannigan, Lieutenant (J. G.) Jim Cruiser and Senior Chief Petty Officer Buford Dawkins lounged on worn vinyl furniture off on one side of the establishment's single room. A middle-aged lady named Rita sat at a battered desk that bore no more than a nondescript personal computer, printer and telephone. At that moment she was printing out a manifest for a shipment of goods to be taken to the small city of Los Blancos to the north. Alfredo, the CIA asset, waited patiently for the documents to be spewed out. As soon as the last emerged, he gathered them up and walked over to join the three SEALs.
Alfredo sat down in a battered chair that had seen better days. 'These papers will be presented to the authorities at checkpoints along the way,' he explained. 'Everything has been arranged to ensure they will be accepted by the customs inspectors.'
Brannigan, sipping a can of Diet Coke purchased from a vending machine outside the door, asked, 'What is this `everything' that has been arranged?'
'Bribes and other payoffs,' Alfredo answered matter-of-factly. 'These preparations are not unusual in this part of the world. Normal business could not be conducted efficiently without the payments of what Latin Americans call la mordida--the bite--which is a colloquialism for bribes. This is the way official permits are issued in a timely fashion. To follow proper procedures would take days and days. Thus, what we are doing will not attract undue attention:'
The phone rang, and Rita picked it up, speaking softly in Spanish. When she hung up, she turned to Alfredo. 'El autobas esta a la puerta.'
'Ah!' Alfredo said. 'The bus has arrived at the gate. It should be here shortly.'
The SEALs exchanged glances of relief. This meant the Command Element and First Assault Section were now in Argentina. They walked to the front window to look for the vehicle to appear through the bustle of the depot. A couple of minutes passed before an ancient bus coughed its way into view, coming to a squeaking halt in front of the office.
Eleven obviously disgruntled travelers disembarked, carrying cheap luggage. They were dressed in clothing that would give the impression they were itinerant laborers going from one low-skilled job to another. From all appearances, they had purchased their garments in flea markets or secondhand stores.
Alfredo opened the door, and they trooped in. The Odd Couple--Mike Assad and Dave Leibowitz--led the way. As the detachment scouts, this was their customary place in any formation. Everyone showed the fatigue of a long, boring trip. They had left San Diego, California, at various times, taking a multitude of airlines through Mexico, Panama, Colombia and Brazil before finally getting together in Montevideo, Uruguay, for the last leg of the trip to Buenos Aires.
'Listen up!' Senior Chief Dawkins said. 'We ain't gonna be here long, so don't try to make yourselves too comfortable.'
'It don't look like we could if we wanted to,' Bruno Puglisi growled as he surveyed the dingy interior of the office.
'Yeah,' Connie Concord agreed. 'I can't wait to get out into that swamp.'
Dawkins snorted a sardonic laugh. 'I'll remind you of what you just said after you been out there for a few weeks up to your ass in quicksand. There's a vending machine with soda pop outside. If you need change, see Rita at the desk. But first Alfredo is gonna brief us as to our movement out to the OA.'
Alfredo stepped up. 'You'll be loading into a couple of semitrailers at the warehouse docks to the rear of this building. All the weapons and your personal equipment have already been put aboard, so you will have whatever comfort items you've packed for yourselves. But we don't want you to change into your BDUs until Lieutenant Brannigan gives you the word.'
Frank Gomez searched his pockets for coins to use in the vending machine. 'Is my commo gear in there?'
'Affirmative,' Alfredo said. 'As well as three rigid raider and piragua boats. I'm afraid you're going to be even more disenchanted with this phase of your infiltration. You're going to have to endure a nonstop one thousand two hundred kilometer trip from here to a place called Los Blancos. That's where you'll marry up with your Second Assault Section.'
'You say this is nonstop?' Chief Matt Gunnarson remarked. 'What about heads?'
Brannigan interjected, 'There are Porta Pottis aboard the trailers along with drinking water and MREs. It'll be bleak and harsh as hell, but you guys can tough it out.'
'Ah, well,' Chad Murchison said. 'I suppose we can pass the time reading.'
'There're no lights:' Brannigan said. 'You'll be in the dark, and I don't want you using any batteries up in your flashlights. We don't know how reliable our resupply is going to be until we get a chance to really test it.'
'I'll be going to Los Blancos with you,' Alfredo said. 'When your entire detachment is together, I'll bring you up to date on all the happenings in the OA. I haven't gotten the word from there myself yet. I'll be staying with the Petroleo Colmo Oil Company, so we'll be in contact with you. Any questions? No? In that case, gentlemen, go get yourselves some soda pop, and we'll get into our luxury accommodations for the big journey.'
Half the SEALs went to Rita for change while the others hurried outside to the vending machine.
.
HEADQUARTERS OF BANDERA 1
EL EJERCITO FALANGISTA
2045 HOURS LOCAL
THE camp was so new that it had not yet been named. The commanding officer, Comandante Javier Toledo, had only about three dozen men in a unit that would normally have numbered between six hundred and seven hundred troops. This, in actuality, was a cadre waiting for an influx of additional noncommissioned officers and soldiers to flesh out the rosters.
