Pat cursed as machine gun fire rattled his vehicle.

It was the third time that night and they had only been in Syria a matter of hours.  Tartus had been an obvious no-go to make port in so they had to come in at a much smaller port to the north.  The logistics themselves were an absolute nightmare.  With such a time crunch there was no way he was going to be able to get Samruk International’s gun trucks into country.  That alone put them at a major disadvantage.  They had to use their operational funds to buy four two and half ton trucks in Egypt and travel with them by boat to Cyprus and then on to Syria.  He didn’t even like to think about how much he had to bribe the ship’s captain to run a Han Solo style pirate run on the Syrian coast to drop them off.

They were gunning it through their third ambush.  In addition, they had bribed their way through one checkpoint on the road and shot through another.  This was the fight to get to the fight.  The only good news was that he had a platoon of trained and battle-hardened Kazakh mercenaries.  From the beds of the transport trucks, they returned fire on enemy positions up in the cliffs to their side.  Led by Western advisers like Kurt Jager of Germany’s GSG-9 and Leszek of Polish GROM, Samruk International definitely had their shit wired tighter than the regime thugs or the rabble that passed for a rebellion that they had encountered thus far.

The problem was that they could still be nickled and dimed until they were a bloody mess by the time they rolled into Homs in the morning.  Out here they had no support, no back up, no resupply.