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It's 1962, a steamy summer afternoon in the Costa Rican rain fars.

An American bomber wars just over the jumbo treetops bordering a long stretch of

beach. Birds scattered, monkey shriek. The Douglas B-26 invader was one of the most

ferocious fighting aircrafts in both World War II and the Korean war. It bristles

with weaponry, machine guns on the nose, missiles mounted on the wings, and a massive bomb

bay in its belly. It's a beast built for devastating targets on the ground.

That's its mission today, destruction. But its targets aren't here in Costa Rica. They're

in Cuba. This stretch of beach is just a rendezvous point.

Inside the plane, the two pilots, both Cubans exiled by Castro's government, are trying to

land on the hard-packed sand.

Full flaps speed 100 knots, altitude 100 feet. 50. Steady now, here we go.

When the wheels touched down, the plane skids in fish tails in the sand before the

bousin was stopped. The pilots clamber out of the cockpit. They scan the shoreline and

the jungle. Where the hell's the rendezvous plane with our bombs? I don't see it. It

shouldn't be here by now. What now? We wait. And we review the mission objectives again.

The pilots are on a mission paid for by the CEO of Bacardi, the Cuban liquor company.

Cuban leader Fidel Castro nationalized Bacardi's distilleries two years ago. Bacardi made a

tactical retreat. But now, it's decided to literally go to war. That's why the Cuban

pilots are here waiting for their supply plane on a secluded beach in Costa Rica. Once

armed, they plan to blow up Cuba's power grid. Their hope is that counter-revolutionaries

...