Somehow, many weren't sure exactly to what end, countries like the United States, Australia, England and France had been drawn into the conflict. There were brothers and fathers, uncles and sons, and even some mothers and daughters fighting half way across the world. Why? A question asked not only by those at home, but by those good strong men and women in uniform who were fighting for what their country believed. Why? What the hell are we doing?

According to "Vanguard International Legion", the world security organization that had long replaced the United Nations, the troops had been sent for a number of very important and noble reasons. Unfortunately, the reasons were on a need to know basis and obviously the rest of the world, the soldiers in particular, did not, in the eyes of those in charge, need to know.

Most, when arriving in Katinda, had the same first impression. It was a beautiful lush green country with huge forests. The impressions that followed were not so favorable. It was hot, muggy, wet, leech ridden and miserable. No one smiled in this expansive, yet relatively poor country, for they had been at war long before the arrival of the world "Peace Keepers".

If there was a place furthest from paradise, this was it. The beauty was inviting but hopelessly empty and false. This was a region where many would lose their youth and their sanity – and for many, even their life. It was a place numerous would learn to call Hell. Life was a precious commodity that didn't last long in this God forsaken country and for Chris Larabee, a Colonel in the United States army, it hadn’t been a good tour of duty. While leading his twelve-man squad on a routine mission, they’d been attacked and wiped out. Seven dead, four injured, and one mental case.

The attack had come from nowhere. There had been no warning, no sign - no chance to find cover. He had been prepared for anything the enemy had to throw at him, but it hadn’t been the enemy who had attacked his squad. Two U.S. bombers had dropped death in the form of one tonne of TNT. How could his men defend themselves against Armageddon?

Some Four-Star General had mixed-up the orders and Larabee lost his whole team as a result. The Colonel was recovering from a concussion, but he was one of the lucky ones. Two of the men in his squad had to be collected - they had been scattered over a twenty-meter radius. The poor bastards hadn’t a chance. Sitting in his hospital bed, Colonel Larabee tried to make sense of it all.

'They' had to have known his team was in there and yet they bombed. Larabee would find out the name of the man who gave the orders and he would belt the shit out of him. The colonel had only been in charge of Special Squad 12B for six weeks and now they ceased to exist. Three of the other survivors would never lead normal lives again. One had been sent mad in those short three minutes it took to annihilate the area. One had lost both his legs, and the last probably wouldn't make it anyway. The final survivor, Sergeant Buck Wilmington - affectionately called The Scoundrel, due to his fondness of the fairer sex - was the only other man beside Larabee who had come through the ordeal relatively unscathed.

The Colonel received an official apology on behalf of the army for, "this tragic mistake", coupled with orders stating for the benefit of all, it would be recorded that Special Squad 12B had been killed in the line of duty and no mention was to be made of the "error" - ever! Fuming, Larabee wanted a piece of someone - the army stank.  The officials at the top of the ladder didn’t give a damn about the average soldier, and that enraged the usually emotionless Larabee. Someone would pay for the "error", and pay dearly.

Two days after the unfortunate friendly fire incident, Colonel Jason Brooks visited Larabee, conveying the deep regret of the "Vanguard International Legion" committee and then proceeded to present the organization’s proposal. They wanted Larabee to lead another squad - a squad that would be different from any of the conventional units in operation. It would have a freedom largely unseen in official circles, and answer directly to the V.I.L. committee. Those in charge knew they were going nowhere fast in Katinda. The new squad was their answer to the mounting pressure - at least it would look as though the group of international Generals were doing something constructive. It was, after all, too late and the situation too damn serious for some of the committee to simply say, "I told you so". They needed to close ranks, stop bickering amongst themselves and ward off the onslaught from the rest of the world.

How many times had others tried to get the committee to look back and study the wars of the past? Everyone knew V.I.L. had been making the same mistakes that had lead to deaths in Korea, Iraq and Duskiny. But the blatant comparison made by the tabloids world-wide was with the war in Vietnam in the 1960's and 70's. The situation in Katinda was almost identical, except rather than a fight of ideologies; this was one against oppression and slavery.

The Easterners were a small group that held all of the money in the country. They had, in the previous forty years, been sending their highly efficient army into the west to kidnap people to be used as slaves. The world had stood back and ignored it all for as long as they could and then finally the "Vanguard International Legion" had stepped in. It immediately requested forces from all industrialized countries and without question, one by one the countries of the world obliged. As has been the case since the bomb was dropped in Hiroshima, using nuclear weapons was out of the question and thus conventional forces had been sent.

The jungles of Katinda were identical to those of Vietnam and while the Generals in charge of the world Peace forces refused to look to and learn from the experiences in Vietnam, the Easterner's were not so proud. They had been using guerrilla warfare for years and had employed the tunnel systems and punji traps that were trade marks of the long forgotten conflict in Vietnam. The parallel didn’t end there, however. The Easterners, or as they liked to be called, the 'Kat Cong', were able to blend into the villages just as the Viet Cong had in Vietnam. The similarities were so obvious - so blatant -- the Generals couldn’t see them - or at the very least, were now not willing to acknowledge the fact they should have when there was still the opportunity to prevent the same mistakes being made. Thus American, Australian, French, German, Russian, and British soldiers were fighting in the same conditions as soldiers who had served in Vietnam so many years before.

However, the leaders of the various industrialized countries had begun asking the V.I.L. committee for answers. All had pledged men to join the combined Peace Force expecting the war to be over quickly. Seven years on, and they were no closer to liberating Katinda. The demonstrations against the war and conscription were beginning to involve more than the usual fanatics. Everyday people all over the world were demanding their individual governments do something about the war that was going nowhere.

This political pressure reached the point where the Prime Ministers and Presidents of the world community were forced to listen and thus their insistence the Generals of V.I.L. begin providing evidence of the war drawing to a close. The committee of Generals chose to design a new type of force. There was too much red tape for anything of substance to take place. They needed a group of soldiers to do what was needed without having to go through the official channels that inherently slowed things to a crawl. All had unanimously agreed the unconventional American, Colonel Christopher Larabee, was just the man needed to head their new and unique squad.

Larabee was outraged. The army had a hide! He'd just lost an entire squad and they were asking for more! It wasn't that Larabee had become close to the twelve men of Squad 12B or that he had liked any of them particularly -- he knew better than that. Larabee understood and believed in the unwritten 'survival' code. Emotional and physical endurance depended on maintaining some sort of sanity in the environment of hell the soldiers had found themselves. They knew they could not become emotionally attached until another had proven himself worthy of such an investment. Even the most soulless of human beings can not cope with the watching those they care about dying with soul-wrenching regularity, so the troops had implemented an emotional pact – a pact that would protect their sanity. A man did not allow himself to become close to another until that solider had confirmed himself worthy – and the only way a man did that was by surviving in Katinda for a considerable period of time.

The committee of Generals did not give up easily and hounded the Colonel for four months before Larabee agreed - on three conditions. The committee was quick to acquiesce, but soon realized perhaps they had been a bit hasty. Larabee demanded not only the right to design the team personally and hand pick the men to fill the positions, but he insisted his new squad remain partially separate from the army and the rest of the V.I.L. forces, technically working under no-one. It was the last condition that caused the greatest concern, but Larabee’s argument was a good one and in the end, the committee submitted to his demands. Being independent of the army, Larabee’s team could do those things that usually got caught up on some General’s desk or in red tape - a problem the committee was already well aware of. Larabee would act when and where he perceived the need, and do those missions deemed too hazardous or impossible for other men.

Two weeks after its initial conception, the STF1 - Special Tactics Force One - was written down on paper. It consisted of a leader, a pilot, a sharpshooter, an explosives expert and a medic. Four men along with himself was all Larabee felt he needed. Beside three of the four positions he already had names:

Pilot - Captain Buck Wilmington.

Explosives expert - Sergeant Josiah Sanchez

Medic - Sergeant Nathan Jackson

Sharpshooter?

Larabee had listed one of the war's, if not the world's, top combat pilots, an explosive expert that was supposed to have no equal and a marine who was a fully trained medic. This far from surprised the Generals on the V.I.L. committee. So valued was the American Colonel's expertise, the committee pulled the three men from the groups they were working with and handed them over to Larabee - no questions asked. That left only one position to be filled - that of sharpshooter.

"Not just a sharpshooter," Larabee explained to the seven Generals from around the world. "I want a soldier who has the ability to track our enemy. A marksman who has the skill to need a single shot only. A phantom with the stealth of a cat. But above all, he's got to have the brains and experience to lead the team should I go down." Jackson and Sanchez were good men, but strategy was not one of their strengths. Wilmington certainly had leadership qualities but, more often than not, he was separated from his squad either flying interference or providing them with cover. Larabee needed another man who had an aptitude to take over if the situation ever presented itself.

"You’re asking too much."

"You want this to work, that’s what I need. Wilmington, Jackson, and Sanchez should fill the other positions adequately. They’re all trained marines with various other skills. You find me a sharpshooter."

**********

"The Special Tactics Force One from Katinda?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Jesus Christ! They’re practically mercenaries," Agent Harris exclaimed, appealing to President’s security advisor.

The ex-soldier glared at the CIA chief with sudden anger. Baitman had not always been a politician’s lackey. He’d served in Katinda and knew of the STF1. He understood the atrocities they had seen and the amazing job Larabee and his men did against overwhelming odds.

"The STF1 were a covert group during the war, thus few know anything about them outside of the stories and rumors. They were not mercenaries," General Travis growled. "I have put together a few slides to introduce the men to you."

The room was engulfed by darkness for no more than three seconds before an image flashed up on the screen. It was a picture of a man from the chest up.

"Colonel Christopher Larabee. As you can see from the slide, he is very highly decorated. Colonel Larabee is noted for his disregard of procedures and senior officers. He does things his own way. Became a unit team leader early in the Katinese conflict, leading several different squads. His last squad was wiped out by American bombers. The incident left him with little trust in the army. It was after this, I had one of my Colonels offer him the opportunity to lead a special unit that was unique in every way. He refused until he was allowed to hand pick his men. E.M.6 is basically run in the same way as the STF1 was during the war. They operate where and when Larabee sees fit." Hence Travis’s reason for stating he would pass on General Collins’ ‘request’ as opposed to his ‘order’.

The slide changed. A roguish face with a dazzling smile filled the screen. "Captain Buck Wilmington. According to some, the most talented pilot the world has ever seen. If it flies, he can pilot it. He’s also a fully trained marine and a qualified mechanic. He and Larabee had a history before the war. They’ve known each other for a long time." Harris appeared about to voice his opinion, but Travis flashed up the next slide before the agent could comment.

The third photo was of a dark skinned man with piercing eyes. "Sergeant Nathan Jackson - a marine and fully qualified doctor. Jackson’s history is horrific. He actually grew up in a Katinese slave camp. His parents were Westerners who were captured and kept as slaves by the Easterners. Jackson and his family escaped when the boy was fifteen. Determined to obliterate the slavery he had endured, Jackson trained as a doctor first and then joined the marines. He enlisted to fight in the Katinese conflict a year before he was selected for the STF1."

Travis clicked the mouse. "Sergeant Josiah Sanchez."

"He’s a big lad."

General Travis allowed a smirk to dance onto his lips. That was the understatement of the year. Rumor had it Sanchez had killed a lot of men with his bear hands, but that rumor had never been substantiated. "Sanchez is an extremely intelligent man. His I.Q. is off the scale, which is why some of his logic is often difficult to follow. Sanchez holds degrees in psychology, theology, and physics… all of which he completed while being a full time soldier. He’s an explosives expert and a fully trained marine."

"Larabee knew what he was doing when he recruited him."

Travis smiled to himself. He was certain Chris hadn’t known what he was getting.

The fourth slide that filled the screen was of a young dark haired man with a bowler hat proudly decorating his head. "Agent J.D. Dunne. Former CIA agent."

Agent Harris frowned. He hadn’t been impressed when the army had poached one of the organization’s brightest recruits.

"Dunne is a communications expert and professional hacker - if you can call it a profession. There isn’t a computer system he can’t infiltrate - even the system here at the Pentagon has been breeched by J.D.   Dunne was forced to endure some basic army training before Larabee accepted him into E.M.6. The final man in the group," Travis stated, flicking the slide, "is Agent Ezra Standish - though you may know him by his code name, ‘The Gambler’.

"The Gambler!" the three other men exclaimed as one.

"The international terrorist?"

"Standish was never a terrorist," Travis argued. "He was a con man who turned his talent to stealing confidential and highly sort after military, technological and security secrets and selling them for a profit. Twelve months ago he was apprehended and sentenced to be shot for treason - but I intervened."

"Why?"

"I have my reasons." And they were to remain his. "Standish plays an important role in the team. He can bypass any security system and has the ability to con a man out of the fillings in his teeth. That, gentlemen, is. E.M.6."

"Four mercenaries, a computer hacker and an international terrorist," Harris muttered with disgust.

"No," General Travis disagreed impatiently. "Six men who combine to form a single unit that thinks, acts and moves as one. Men who are as hard as the situation dictates and who are not restricted by the same laws they have sworn to uphold."

"Larabee has set himself up as God," Harris argued.

"I agree Colonel Larabee is probably potentially the most dangerous man alive today. He has not only the capability, but also the instruments to make himself very powerful. His men would willingly follow him to hell and back if he asked them to - and his men are among the best in the profession."

"So why is he still just a Colonel and not higher up in the armed forces?"

"Colonel Larabee has stood on a great many toes over the years," General Collins murmured. "He's outspoken, especially when it comes to his men, and he's not the easiest person to work with. Larabee likes his own way and is used to getting it. Some say that's a fault, but what he and his team accomplished in Katinda and in the last twelve months as E.M.6, is remarkable."

"So what exactly does the E and the M stand for?" Harris demanded. "Empowered Maniacs or perhaps Experimental Mercenaries?"

"Officially, it stands for Explicit, External, Expert and Effective Mediation. Simply put - Extreme Measures. E. M.6 use extreme measures to deal with extreme situations."

The President’s chief security advisor processed what he’d heard with a thoughtful nod. "We have an extreme situation. All right, General Travis. I approve the use of E.M.6."

Travis nodded, closed his laptop, placed it into his brief case and headed for the door. "I’ll pass on your ‘request."

**********