Once he was down in the gully he had been using for concealment, he looked over the huddled figures who had followed him this far. Dressed in army surplus camouflage fatigues, they watched Osborn’s every move wide-eyed as they clutched their weapons. When he had called the three separate cells that made up what was known as the 2nd Battalion seven days ago, fourteen of the seventeen belonging to that group showed up. After explaining to them that they were going to go south to rescue their brothers of the 5th Brigade, that number dropped to twelve. Four days of intensive last minute training and two rehearsals further reduced their ranks to ten. When it came time to pull out of their camp in northern Idaho, nine climbed into their trucks and four-by-fours. Now, the question that rattled through his mind as he prepared to issue his final instructions was whether or not the seven who had made it this far had the balls to go that one last mile. Well, he told himself as he pulled his old canteen from its faded OD cover, now’s a good a time as any to find out.

As he took a long, slow sip from his canteen, he looked over his “command.” Of those who had come down from Idaho with him only one of them, other than himself, had been a member of the armed forces. Known simply as Lou, this man appeared to be the most dedicated, most hardcore of the lot. He even surpassed Osborn himself in his devotion to the Cause. Yet it was exactly for this reason that Lou made Osborn uncomfortable. He was, even for Osborn, a bit too fanatical.

None of the others could be accused of that, Osborn thought, as he tightened the cap back onto the canteen. The two brothers, Tom and Rob, were nice enough fellows and talked a good line. But that was all they seemed to be interested in doing. Even the Kid, a boy who had just celebrated his sixteenth birthday, put both of the brothers to shame when it came to marksmanship and savvy in the field. Given a few years, Osborn thought, the Kid would be dynamite.

The other three were all middle-aged men Osborn didn’t much care one way or the other about. They’d do what they were told and would serve the Cause. Nothing more.

If there was one bright spot in this whole affair, it was the quality of their weaponry. When asked to lead this effort, Osborn had been given a carte blanche as to arms and equipment. Knowing full well that his numbers would be small, he realized from the beginning that fire power would be needed to compensate for the small numbers he had anticipated. So he asked for two M-60 machine guns, the old style M-16A1 that was capable of full automatic, and a high caliber .50 sniper rifle. When Osborn was told by a gun shop owner in Pocatello, Idaho that he could have the M249 5.56mm squad automatic rifle instead of the older 7.62mm M-60 machine gun, Osborn had demurred. “I want something that has some hitting power and range. The Hog is an impressive gun, especially when viewed from the beaten zone.”