The winds were howling, the west coast had received a surprise windstorm and the surf was pounding the breakwater barriers with enough force to leave cracks in the concrete. The searchlights were pointed down upon those dangerous waves from the hovering TH-6 "Little Bird" helicopter and NAVSPECWARCOM was tapped to play taxi for us, here bobbing in the waves- our team, testing new waterproof, chemical reaction-based thermal suits and rode the waves like fanatic surfers seeking the "ultimate" wave.

SOCOM provided SDAI with a number of Techs over the years and yet even they don't get told what we are doing or why and the Helicopter crew hoists us out with a no-nonsense purposefulness that befits an actual mission and not an equipment testing. The pilot though, a broad shouldered, square jawed type - has a big smile on his face that says we are their type of "good-crazy."

The suits worked perfectly and offset enough of the frigid water temperature which would have left us with hypothermia over twenty minutes ago.
The suit combines two layers of rubber with two distinctive chemical packets built in all over the suit. By pulling a few cords once one hits the water the chemicals are released in between the suit and create a chemical based "heat" which lasts for an undisclosed period of time.

These are a new form of BDU (Battle Dress Uniform) for water based operations. The SOCOM crew are efficient and even so friendly as to offer Tech7, and the rest of us, a Hooah! Booster Bar - also known as a special forces candy bar.

The TH-6 is cramped but has a sweet whine as rotor whines go. In 12 and a half minutes we arrive at a La Jolla helipad. The SEALs take off as soon as we disembark and Tech2 and I admire the TH-6 make it's angular ascent.

"That's a fine little bird." Tech2 says reitierating the obvious. The four 7.62 six barrel mini-guns, mounted both fore and aft, gave the bird a look of "serious consequences."

But admiring the machinery is not what we are here to do. I open the rooftop elevator access with a smart card and a code, and we descend fifteen stories into the SDAI development laboratory.

"Welcome back. Two hours and thirty six minutes. You must be exhausted. Get yourself something from the lounge and get back here."

The voice is gruff and experienced and belongs to a man affectionately called "old, wise one" by the younger Techs and "old, wise geezer" by the less respectful ones.

The building smells old - twentieth century school house old - like cleaning chemicals and asphalt tiles.

In the lounge a row of vending machines with Pepsi and Coke machines competing with eachother. The machines are rigged to work without coins and you just have to make your selections.

A television sits in the corner next to a small european Krups coffemaker.

It's a John Wayne flick, and Wayne's words and drawl seem somehow appropriate and fitting these days:

"There's a lot o' yella bastards in the country who would like to call patriotism old-fashioned...They tell me everything isn't black and white, well I say why the hell not?"

Yes, indeed, why the hell not. I grab some Lays Sour Cream Chips and a cup of coffee and head with the others to the debriefing.

The flashing light on the wall catches my eye immediately - it is a silent alert which means the facility has been breached. I take Tech7 and Tech5 down the hallway to the armory, enter another code and I grab some H&K MP-5 submachine guns off the racks and some spare 9mm clips.

"We don't know what we are going to encounter." I say tersely, as I throw two Kevlar vests to my teammates and strap on my own.

We exit the armory and the door closes automatically behind us.

Even this old facility has been retrofitted with numerous security failsafes and each floor is capable of being locked down and gassed from the security center. For some reason none of the failsafes have been activated.

"We gotta get back to the ol' man - he may need us."

As we climb up a flight of stairs, shouting can be heard from the room. The ol' man is lying on the floor - all too still. I race over and bend down over him to see if he is alive and he lifts a weapon concealed from underneath him.

"bang. You're dead." he says with an ornery smile.

"You bas----." I say with no small anger.

"Sentimentality has no place in a crisis. I could be an imposter or have been hypnotized to be a Manchurian candidate. Never approach with your weapon lowered, when you don't know the score."

The ol' man is pushing seventy and he still has time for drills.

Like the old Trek episode where everyone laughs at Spock at the end while he assumes an aristocratic amused demeanor, I too find myself the object of laughter and polite derision. It's clear the others were in on the plan.

Tech7 turns and smiles at me with those pearly whites and non-regulation long lashes, "You said you never know what we might encounter...maybe you should listen to yourself better when you speak."

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SDAI-Tech1