Welcome to Home of the Brave. I'm Scott Carrier. A few days ago I was in the tropical northern part of Honduras,

standing outside a bus station with about 500 people who are waiting to leave for the United States,

not by bus, but by walking in a caravan.

It had been raining off and on for most of the day and the sky was dark with heavy clouds.

Half the people standing around me were males in their early 20s.

The other half were families, mainly single moms with little kids and babies.

They were going to start walking at night in the dark and then try to stay together for more than 2,000 miles because there are

robbers, gangs of thieves and murderers all along the way. A young man or a family

traveling alone would have no chance of survival, but there's safety

in a large group, everybody watching out for one another.

I was talking with a woman interviewing her on tape, a caller Maria, about 30 years old with

curly hair pulled back tight in a bun.

She was holding her one-year-old daughter in her arms

and her two sons, both with her grade school

backpacks, were standing at her side.

They was so innocent. It seemed impossible and wrong what they were

going to attempt, but I'd seen mothers like Maria with little kids who'd made it all

the way to Tijuana with a caravan last with the

caravan last fall because everybody stayed together.

Once they got to the border, however, they were on their own.

I wondered how much Maria knew about the border.

So I asked her, do you know how you'll cross over

...