Robert Kennedy North of Air Force One Crash Site, Mozambique Red peered through his night vision goggles, the first of the rebel force appearing through the trees. They had managed to hoof it ahead of the group and were now spread out over one hundred yards on the enemy’s right flank. It was too dangerous to hit them like they had before, it just gave them something to shoot at. So now they’d become insects. Annoying mosquitos. He squawked his comm three times, starting the three count. He picked his target, counting down in his head. And squeezed the trigger. A single shot from five positions, five targets down, then nothing. There were some shouts, some returned fire, then nothing, there nothing to fire at. The rebels had taken to ground immediately, all either prone or hiding behind trees. And not moving. Precious minutes bought. He watched through his night vision, nobody advancing on their position, exactly as he had predicted. These men were after a prize and knew this was a delaying tactic.
