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the mission was all that mattered to them.  John, however, was there because he believed that he was helping to save lives, in the long run.  He believed in what he was doing, and that was what allowed him to sleep at night.  But he did not know if he could face himself after killing a child, no matter how necessary the act might be to save the lives of his comrades in the unit.
    Vogel shook his head, relieving John.  He knew why the CO had made his decision for the unit to take no action against the girl.  They could kill her, but her friend was gone.  If one of the girls didn’t come back, they would certainly be discovered.  But if both were allowed to return...then the little girls would either tell or they wouldn’t.  All the men could do now was wait.  Intel was sketchy about how the people in the area would react to the presence of Americans in their midst.  They were just as likely to invite them to dinner as shoot them, so the unit had to be prepared for either.
    John watched the child at last grow bored of holding her position and walk away.  He exhaled as he saw her walk off, catch up to the group, and continue without comment until the group had gone beyond the range of John's scope.  The rest of the unit could sense John's relief, and they too relaxed, settling into positions of less discomfort (actual comfort was impossible in this situation) and waiting for their turn to watch.
    The relief was short-lived, however, as an hour later the little girl returned, leading a group of young men.  They were not sheepherders, but were instead an armed group, clutching weaponry of various levels of sophistication and power.  John spied them when they were still several hundred yards from the Green Berets’ lair, but could tell in an instant that they were heading directly to the hide spot.  The little girl halted and pointed at his scope, then stood her ground as the men continued without her.
    He reported it to Vogel, who murmured, "We might be in trouble," Vogel said.  Then the CO folded up the antenna and ordered everyone out.
    The Green Berets exited the pit quickly, their pulses speeding up.  Though they had popped the roof and exited in a matter of seconds, to John it seemed much longer, and he felt naked and exposed under the desert sun, which beat down on him with hate.
    Vogel waited until the young men - they looked like Bedouins, but a bit harder and tougher than most - were about two hundred feet away, then shouted, "Salaam." 
    They kept moving forward as the little girl stepped back even farther away.  That was a bad sign, as it demonstrated her expectation that this would not be a happy meeting.  Then she turned and ran, and even at that distance John could clearly see the fear in her gaze.  His heart sank. 
    Vogel - the only one who spoke Arabic - barked a few quick words.  John knew he was ordering the men to stop, to stand down or risk being fired upon.
    They didn’t.
    "Oh, hell," said Vogel.  He moved his machine gun into ready position, aimed at the young men.  People on the road were starting to take note of what was going on.               
    "Pull the plug," said Vogel to John.
    John nodded.  He leapt into the pit and yanked a cord that was wired to a small explosive.  It would burn all their supplies to slag, including classified maps and hardware they had brought.  It would also leave them with only their hand weapons, some ammo, and the LST-5 radio they had brought for communications with base camp.  Such a move was intended as a last-ditch effort to obscure their mission from prying eyes.    
    Camp was already on the LST-5, telling base they needed an emergency exfiltration.
    Vogel started stepping backward, backed up by the other Berets, moving toward the canal.  Calmly, though.  The young men - about twenty in number - were unlimbering guns and looking less friendly by the moment.  John was worried, for he feared they would soon attack, and did