Trevor smirked at the notion of the skin darkening cream and the brown contacts. He wouldn’t need any of that. Someone in his ancestral lineage originated on that dark continent. He figured he would blend in with the Africans pretty easily. Unfortunately, the North Africans were lighter skinned than he was, but he knew there were dark skinned Nubians living in Maghreb even today. It was something he wasn’t worried about. He retained the Arabic lessons from his time with the SEALs in San Diego. He also had a multitude conversations with native speakers over the eight years he served with the teams in the middle east. He had practical experience with the language but was no native Algerian speaker. His French was much better than his Arabic and that would fit in just fine. Although the people of Maghreb spoke a different dialect, Maghrebi Arabic is slightly different than his Mesopotamian or Levanti dialect.

When Trevor heard he was returning to Algeria, he allowed a slight grimace. He spent a year or more in the region with the Legion. Not all of it was bad, but it was a frickin shitty hell hole--very hot. It appeared they would be in some of the same grounds for this operation. The Legion operated near the borders with Mali and Niger. He did make a jump with No. 3 company, 2nd REP about five kilometers southeast of Reggane, Algeria. Nasty tussle; took a frag on his right side that day. He recalled Claude Beaumont, his team’s grenadier killed in action about a half hour after their pre-dawn jump. [i]‘Hell that was only about four years ago,’[/i] he thought to himself.

[i]‘100 rounds?’[/i] Trevor smiled to himself. He knew the Marines carried 210 like the Army. SEALs usually carried twice that and even in the Legion he carried 270 plus whatever loose they could find. He got into the habit of carrying twelve mags, even if only nine of them were loaded. 

“I remember hearing about those fuckers when I was in North Africa four years ago. At that time, DGSE told us they hid out in the Ahaggar National Park; possibly living in the local villages; Tahifet, Tazrouk or Idles. I don’t know maybe more. They were fucking dogs.” Trevor let some intel slip that he learned in the Legion. DGSE was the acronym for the French intelligence agency, [i]Direction générale de la sécurité extérieure[/i]. “But like you say, Monsieur Bakker. They may be anywhere in that hot-ass desert.”

Trevor didn’t have as many questions as he thought. He was able to recall some intelligence from his time in the Legion and share it with his new brothers in Ares. He looked over the items in the package. He secured them in his coat pocket and felt pretty confident with the mission. He was feeling good about the op.