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lonely; even the bachelors would have at least been in a base chow hall enjoying a traditional menu in a holiday atmosphere. But here they were, way down in South America, off by themselves, hiding like escaped convicts in dank surroundings.
    Frank Gomez sorely missed his wife and little boy. "Christmas is really going to suck this year."
    "Hanukkah ain't exactly gonna be a wingding jubilee," Dave Leibowitz observed.
    The sound of the door opening caught their attention, and everyone's eyes turned in that direction, hoping to see something interesting or perhaps encouraging. But it was only Alfredo, coming in.
    "Happy Thanksgiving!" he said cheerfully. He noted the lack of response and shrugged. "Anyhow, I have the latest intelligence from the Gran Chaco to pass on to you:'
    The SEALs stopped eating, giving him their full attention.
    "Okay," Alfredo continued, "we know now that a group of the Falangist troops are out there. We don't know how many of them there are, or where they're located, or what their intentions are, or how they're equipped."
    Joe Miskoski groaned loudly. "You call that intelligence?"
    "It's a big, empty country out there," Alfredo said defensively. "Just keep in mind the enemy knows less about you. As far as can be determined, they have absolutely no idea of your existence, much less that you're on your way."
    "All right!" Brannigan said loudly. "Let's not start bitching! The fact we're able to make a clandestine infiltration gives us one hell of an advantage. I'm going to do a map reconnaissance this evening and pick out an easily defended area for a base camp. From that point on, we'll start going up and down rivers, creeks, streams, mud puddles and shit holes until we find the sons of bitches. Once we have the intelligence we need, we'll take the appropriate action." He looked around. "Are you listening, Odd Couple?"
    "Yes, sir," came Mike Assad's voice from the back of the crowd.
    "You and Leibowitz had better rest up while you can," Brannigan said to the pair of detachment scouts. "You two are gonna be running your asses off."
    "Right," Dave Leibowitz said under his breath. "Like that's a big surprise."
    "What did you say?" Brannigan asked.
    Dave grinned weakly. "I said, 'That'll be nice.'
    attitude, Leibowitz," Brannigan said. He turned to Alfredo. "When are we going in?"
    "Tomorrow morning," the CIA operative replied. "And again. Happy Thanksgiving."
    He walked from the warehouse, and the SEALs turned back to their holiday repast.

    Chapter 3
    THE GRAN CHACO SEAL BASE CAMP
    30 NOVEMBER
    LIEUTENANT Wild Bill Brannigan chose the site for the permanent base camp after making a close study of a combination of maps and satellite photographs of the OA. The selected area was situated on firm ground where the Lozano Grasslands and Los Perdidos Swamp came together. The farther someone walked from the grassy area westward into the swamp, the softer and wetter the terrain became until the wanderer would be in water that could be anywhere from ankle deep to over his head. To add an attribute of danger to the marshy environment, pools of quicksand lay hidden under the murky depths.
    This swamp was definitely not visitor friendly.
    The base camp location offered an easily defended position as well as a handy place where supplies and ammunition could be securely cached. The marshland also made it unnecessary to set up a defensive perimeter of 360 degrees. The firing positions were arranged in a horseshoe shape with the open side next to the bog. Not even the most determined enemy would be able to mount an effective attack from that direction. A system of streams that offered enough depth for the raider boats and piraguas ran from the north side of the camp to the nearby Rio Ancho. As far as Brannigan could determine, the river would be the main travel route used in the coming operation against the Falangists.
    The Command Element was located to the center rear of the horseshoe, while the First Assault Section