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protection to radical terrorists trying to kill us.  It’s high level insanity.”
    Exhaling, Ben knew Moshe had heard this rant before.  But he believed every word of it.  He wasn’t just blowing off steam.  He feared his own country was going into an unstoppable decline, and it was his duty to try to stop it, in any way that he could.
    After dinner, the nighttime mock-up began and lasted well into the morning hours.  Exhausted and hungry, the men ate and crawled into their beds.  Beneath the ground in the bunker, there was no sound except for the soft whir of the ductwork purifying the air.  It was soothing and quiet in his room once the men had fallen asleep.  So quiet he could hear his heart beating.  He recognized his insomnia was worse than ever on this mission.  It was the inability to control what might happen that kept him awake.  Those who hired him seemed to be the ones who might become his undoing .  Ego was always at the center of all evil.  It wasn’t about the techniques used or who was spying on whom.  The bottom line was survival of the fittest .  When the hell would these stupid politicians get it?   There were no rules in battle.  This was a brave new world, and the political hacks were living in a bubble, making arguments that were moot upon the battlefield.
    After days of practice and communication with human intel on the ground, Moshe ordered the C-130J stocked and ready for take-off.  The team was in good spirits and Ben found it difficult to be his usual jovial self.  Although he smiled and grabbed arms and slapped backs as always, he did not share the worries lurking in the back of his mind.  It would be a night flight, and the men were happy to have the chance to sleep for the fifteen hour trip. 
    They were wheels-up by 9:00 PM and landed in Soto Cano Air Base, Honduras at noon the following day.   Soto Cano was the location of the U.S. Southern Command.  A  Joint Task Force-Bravo operated forward, USSOCOM’s area of responsibility encompassed thirty-one countries and ten territories, thus covering close to one-sixth of the landmass of the earth.
    The humidity hit him like a wall the moment Ben stepped off the plane.  It would take a day or two for his body to acclimate, and the men had filled up on water enhanced with electrolytes in preparation for what lie ahead.  A convoy of heavily armored vehicles swept the team to their temporary housing in a bunker beneath the base.  There, they were brought into a room and fitted with the newest forward-deployed TALOS exoskeleton suits, a thin liquid body-armor for protection, and unique goggles that not only allowed night vision, but acted as an undetectable communication device, simply known as G’s.  The goggles were a full-color, 3D heads-up display that provided rapid, real-time battlefield knowledge.  With a high-resolution transparent display, the eyeglasses overlaid a data and a video stream giving the men full view of the battle around them.  Aside from enhancing night vision, the G’s provided waypoints, routing information, and the ability to identify hostile and friendly forces, track personnel and assets, and coordinate small unit actions. 
    Piling into the war room, Moshe ran the team through the first strike.  The Dark Horse war game was up on the screen and each man participated in some way, utilizing their unique skills.    Getting ready for these targets was the biggest challenge.  Ben’s worry was:  There were just too many variables.  The Latin American police state was not friendly and there was a strong narco-terrorist element that would surround them.  The one thing he hated more than anything else was uncertainty and now he would be immersed in it. 
    Before the game ended, Moshe made an announcement that caused Ben even more anxiety. 
    “Sorry to say, guys, that two of the bastards that were on our radar, have managed to slip away in Guatemala.  There were five of them in one