Blind Eyes, Black Hearts - A GWOT Story (On Hold)

Chapter I, Part II - HVT

Gaz

1915 Hours

Stay cool, Gaz. He said to his-self as he looked towards the meeting through his scope. These guys were mad, Gaz thought, bloody mad, trying to use a weapon that’s use was banned by the UN. “World’s getting mad, I say.” Ark said, both heard by Gaz with and without the radio.

“It’s always been mad, Ark, just not this mad. Bleeding hell. Willie Pete! Rodent, permission to take the shot!” Gaz panicked.

“Negative, Gaz.” Rodent said over the radio. “You know the RoE[1] on this. We can’t shoot until they’ve shot us.”

“Fuck, sir. Give me a chance to take the bloody shot. We already know what they have!”

“Calm down, Gaz. Calm down. Be bloody patient, sergeant!”

Gaz took a deep breath and tried to calm himself down. Sweat was trailing down his face as he imagined all those innocent people die through White Phosphorus. “Roger that, sir.” He said and he took off his helmet. The helmet made his shots less accurate and it itched sometimes; so instead he took his green union-jack cap from behind and put it on backwards.

He looked towards the meeting through his scope. They were still talking, but behind them one of the Al-Qaeda militants was shouting orders to his men to go towards the two buildings and check them out. Several Taliban and AQ scrambled as the insurgent’s petty officers shouted orders for them to kill any ‘heathen’ coalition soldiers in the area. Gaz began to sweat through the abnormal heat, but he was calm.

“They know we’re here.” Gaz said over the radio. The Taliban and Al-Qaeda were scrambling towards the two buildings and he had to do something.

Rodent swore on the radio, and decided to contact command. “Warlord, This is Alpha Six. We’ve been compromised; I say again, we’ve been compromised! Warn Dagger that the LZ is hot. Say again, LZ is hot!” he paused for a while, and calmed himself. “Gaz,”  Rodent called, calmly.

“Take the shot.”

“Yes, sir.” And Gaz smiled. Half-a-dozen Taliban were running towards his building, trying to discover who - or what - was inside it. But Gaz, already had one of the targets in his sights. He just had to squeeze the trigger. “Taking down Omar Ataf.”

“Roger.” Rodent replied, and on that confirmation, Gaz and Ark went deep into their scopes; Ark his rangefinder binoculars and Gaz his sniper.

“Wind is low. One mile per hour. Two Hundred and Fifty Meters. No shifting required to score a kill.” Ark said.

The two lay next to each other. A sniper had to have a spotter, and a sniper wouldn’t shoot straight without the spotter, especially when given tasks that involved high value or long range targets. A spotter’s task was to assist the sniper in giving details on his surroundings. A sniper could doit himself, but a sniper had to concentrate on killing the target with this rifle, while the spotter was the one who assisted sniper in doing it: Spotting the target, counting the wind, counting the range, counting bullet fall. And that is why they were issued with rangefinder binoculars. The sniper and spotter were best friends and could not do their respective tasks without each other.

“Taking the shot.” Rodent had his sights onto the man. He zoomed in. He wasn’t moving and a still target was easier to shoot than a moving target, and thank God for that, Gaz thought. No wind, this should be easy. Omar Ataf wasn’t a tall person, nor had he a muscular build. His beard was long and thick, Gaz could even see it from behind. And Gaz, sure to shoot, took a long breath.

He held it.

His weapon was steady, and he had reached the point of focus right between calm and anger, and with this, he could shoot any target. He hesitated and released his breath, and took a longer one for one last time; and without thinking, he squeezed the trigger.