Ghost had to slow down his movements. After two hours of moving through the forest the patrols of the NWA were starting to get more frequent. He must be getting close, staying low he looked up as the sun was setting, this was good as it was getting darker he would gain the advantage. 
"Shit man where the fuck is this guy" a voice coming from his right,
 "Fuck man I don't know" Another said. 
"Man we'll never find him in the dark we should head back to the truck" 
"Man I don't want to be cramped in the back of that stupid truck any longer then I have too."
"yea but once we get back to town there were some decent looking wet holes for slant eyes" 
There was a laugh coming from them. "Man we haven't been out that long have we"
"He man I got to piss, be right back" a third voice.

As they spoke Ghost moved around them, staying low and behind some trees he had the three in sight. Good they haven't found the man who took those detonators. He watched them for a moment, waiting for them to pass from his hiding spot as the third man came back. "God this is so pointless, we'll never find anyone in this fucking jungle." He heard one say as they started to walk off. Ghost would of laughed, if he was the laughing sort, and not surrounded by hostiles. It seamed that no matter where you were the common soldier's best skill was complaining 

 Once they were clear he moved again, looking around the jungle. He liked jungles, air support was all but useless, the nights were pitch black. You could hide and move an army in them lord knows Africa has mastered that. It was a simpler kind of war, Where it wasn't the biggest stick that one, but the softest step. As he moved through that jungle he looked to his right, a phantom moving along side of him, Petty officer third class Ricko. He was a good kid, it was his first field assignment. Ghost and his team were to track down an African warlord who had been helping the "Axis" move troops and supplies through the jungles of Africa supplying the enemies to the north. They spent almost two months in that jungle, Playing cat and mouse with Guerrillas until they finally got some one that would talk. It was a grueling mission, everything in that jungle was trying to kill you. Ricko didn't make it. 

 Damian stopped him self, pulling out a flask he kept he took a sip, the burn of whiskey rolling down his throat. He had lost a lot of friends over the years, and he often wondered what became of Jayson, they had tried to keep in touch but with them both always being deployed. Damian shook his head and closed his eyes taking a moment. This wasn't the time nor the place for this. To many ghost haunt his memories, He took another sip of his whiskey before screwing the lid on and tucking it away. Damian took in a deep breath.

 Ghost opened his eyes, those cold as ice blue hues looked forward. He had a mission, stop the NWA from getting those detonators at all cost. That meant finding the man who took them. He moved with a purpose. Quickly and silently through the jungle as he looked around. He had to be getting close.