Chapter 13: Sniper School Tuesday 11 September 2007

Khudabah, Pakistan — Morning of day thirteen

They left the lights on again last night, and no rats came at all. I slept all night and dreamed about Jens and our training at Kaneohe Bay. Damn, that was a good time; so much different than now.

Today, the fucking towelheads have taken a totally different approach. They've tied me to a chair but left my left arm free. What the hell are they up to, now?

The interpreter comes in, sits down at the table in front of me, and pulls out a chessboard.

"Perhaps we could play some chess, Mr. Newman."

I'm not surprised to hear my "name," but I'm a little bit disappointed to know that Zarika told them what I said. It would be nice to have a trustworthy friend.

The interpreter continues as he sets up his pieces. "Since we're becoming such good friends, perhaps I can call you Alfred and you can call me Mustif? If you behave yourself, we will leave your left arm untied all day long."

We play chess and talk until evening. Mustif tries to get information out of me, and I feed him a constant stream of bullshit. I note with malicious satisfaction that he's eating it up.

As dinnertime nears, Zarika comes in. Mustif sees me looking at her and grins, a nasty gleam in his eyes.

"Ah yes, Zarika is quite a pretty girl. She is thirteen, a prisoner from Tajikistan and is currently the leader's favorite. But I am afraid that he is growing tired of her and soon she will be given to the men, and after that the rats will get her."

He calls Zarika over, and when she is standing in front of us, he orders her to take off her dress. She's embarrassed, but obeys.

Mustif continues, "Yes, a very pretty girl. It will be a shame to see her eaten by the rats. Perhaps if you cooperate, I can talk the leader into giving her to you. Would you like that? Think about it, Alfred, and let me know."

Zarika puts her dress back on, cleans me up again, and feeds me some more lamb stew and a bunch of water. She undresses the rat bites on my feet and legs, cleans them thoroughly, and puts ointment and bandages on them.

When she is done, I say, "Balshoya spiceba." (thank you very much)

Zarika blinks, looks at me and asks, "Te gavorete paRuski?" (Do you speak Russian?)

I reply, "Ya panemayu paRuski, ne ochen horasho e gavoru paRuski, chut chut." (I understand Russian not badly and speak Russian a little bit.)

We hear the guards coming, so that ends our conversation. They tie me up to the ceiling and leave the lights on for the night.

Kaneohe Bay Hawaii — Tuesday, Day Ten

What the hell? The Addams Family theme?

Jens raised up and looked at the computer. "Wow. That was better than I hoped. We already have a hundred and fourteen kills, and got four hours of sleep. Come on, big boy. It's time for you to get to work. The alarm means we have ghosts within a thousand meters."

That got my attention. I rose and gave Jens a big hug and kiss. "Time for me to do the voodoo I do so well." I looked at the computer and saw where the ghosts were. I grinned.

"This is going to be..."

Jens finished, "Like shooting fish in a barrel."

Jens rolled over to her scopes and I rolled over to the 98 Bravo. We both fired up the NV and I said, "Range me sweetheart."

Jens replied, "You say the nicest things, my love. Multiple ghosts at one thousand and ten meters; elevation, minus twenty; wind, zero."

I did the calculations, set the scope, put the crosshairs on the first target, and tickled the trigger. Five shots later, we had five kills.

"Range me again, my love."

Jens replied in her soft, sexy whisper, "Four ghosts at eleven hundred meters, going away from us; elevation, minus fifteen; wind, zero."

I made the adjustments, lined up the targets, and we had four more kills. I reloaded the rifle. Jens was ecstatic.

"That was some damn fine shooting. They deserved it after waking me out of the dream I was having of our wedding. They had just started the wedding march and I was walking down the aisle. I'd just looked up and seen you when the damned alarm went off."

She checked the computer. "It looks like there are no more ghosts close enough to worry about. Let's eat some chow and go hunting."

Jens made us the MREs and somehow made them quite tasty.

"Thanks, my dear. I don't know how you did it but you even made this MRE taste good."

"Thanks, big boy," she replied. "If you heat them right and use some of the seasonings, they aren't too bad."

We finished up, brushed our teeth and did some other morning chores, and then grabbed our packs and guns. Jens tore down the computer and satellite dish and stowed it in her pack.

"We're blind now, so we'll need to be careful. Let's go reset the traps and take out some patrols."

There was a platoon close, so we hurried to get in front of them. Jens was on one side of the trail and I was on the other. We let them walk into our trap and took them out with our suppressed M4s at 400m. They never knew where we were or what hit them.

One of the traps we came upon had been destroyed. "Oh," Jens said with an evil laugh, "Looks like someone got pissed off." We rebuilt the trap and moved on.

By mid morning, we had finished with most of the traps and had fifty-two kills already, most of them with the suppressed M4s.

We found one group of Recons and tailed them, knowing that if we didn't take care of them, they'd be trouble. Jens looked at me.

"Why don't you skirt them and get in front of them by about two hundred meters and find a good place to start shooting them. I'll keep tailing them to let you know what they're doing. Then, when you're ready, we'll hit them from both sides."

It sounded like a good plan to me, so I slipped around the side of the Recon platoon, making sure to give them a very wide berth, and then took off running.

Damn. I was almost where I wanted to be when I ran into another patrol. I was just able to drop to the ground before they saw me. "Jens," I radioed, "I just ran into another patrol. They didn't see me, so I'm going to take them out with the M4. Even suppressed, I'm sure the Recons will hear me. When they start coming after me, you start taking them out from the back."

"I've got your ass — I mean, your back," Jens said with a chuckle.

Damn, I was glad to have the M4 with me; it had been the workhorse of the day. I slipped it off my back, took aim, and let the patrol have it. They started shouting and firing wildly everywhere. The brass was going to be pissed off about this. The Recons did hear the fight and came up on the patrol, the patrol didn't know who they were and started shooting at the Recons, so the Recons started returning fire. I shook my head. This was FUBAR (Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition).

I called Jens. "You won't believe it; the patrol and the Recons are fighting each other."

"I wondered what all the shooting was about," she replied. "I thought you were opening up a can of whoop-ass on them."

"Get in a good position, and let's wait until they stop shooting," I directed.

If they hadn't been our men, the confusion would have been comical to watch. Finally, they figured out they were both on the same side and stopped shooting each other. The leader of the Recons came up to chew some ass.

I called Jens. "Get ready to fire."

Just as the Recon leader got to the patrol leader, I told Jens, "Fire." And this time we did open up a can of whoop-ass, on both of them. They were completely confused and thought they were shooting at each other again. By the time they figured it out, they were all "dead." I was pissed at their ineffectiveness and I knew that the BG would be livid when he got our report on this.

"Well, that was too easy," Jens said. "Let's regroup at location bravo; I'm getting hungry and want to set up our tactical again."

I didn't tell Jens, but I tailed her to bravo just to make sure she didn't run into any problems. After she was safely at bravo, I made a quick circuit of the area to make sure there were no ghosts near it.

I called Jens on the radio. "I'm coming in, don't shoot me."

She laughed, "I don't know why you just didn't come on in when you followed me. Things were safe."

"I guess old habits die hard," I replied.

"Listen, mister: you had better start letting those old habits die. Remember that you're too predictable, and we need to change that," Jens answered.

She was right, and I knew it. I went on in and she greeted me with a hug and kiss. "Sorry about being a little bitchy with you earlier—"

I interrupted her. "—There's nothing to be sorry about. I screwed up, and you were totally right. Thank you for pushing me and always making me better. I want you to continue to beat me over the head when I fall back into my old habits." I hugged her again and kissed her, letting her know everything was all right.

Jens already had the computer and satellite dish set up, and had even started heating the MREs.

"Damn. Are you trying to spoil me?" I asked.

"That's the plan," she replied, and continued studying the computer.

I brought her MRE over when it was hot and handed it to her. "Thanks," she said, still watching the screen. "I'm a little puzzled, because the tactical situation is substantially different from this morning. Earlier the patrols and platoons were so heavy, they were like fleas on a dog. Now most of them are gone. I don't think they're taking a break for lunch; they should do that in the area."

I looked over her shoulder at the screen. "So what are the stars in the middle of the screen?"

"That's the BG and other brass. They're in here observing the exercises," she answered.

I noticed a good number of troops around the brass and I laughed. "I can't believe that for once I know what's going on and you don't."

She turned and gave me a questioning look.

"Everyone has been sent out of the training area other than the platoon and patrol leaders. They're gathered around the BG and he's chewing their asses for doing such a crappy job. Damn, I'm glad that I'm not in their boots." I laughed.

"How far away do you figure they are? And can we see them from here?"

Jens smiled and looked at me. "You're right — that's exactly what's going on. Now that you told me I can plainly see it. That's great analysis!" She gave me a hot kiss and continued, "They're about twenty-five hundred meters away. We can't see them from here. However, if we move here," she pointed to a location, "we will be about eighteen hundred meters and should be able to see them clearly ... Oh, you sneaky devil dog, you want to go and shoot them while they're getting their asses chewed. That's a brilliant plan. To hell with lunch. Let's get going."

We left everything other than the M107 Barrett that I had hidden, the ammo for it, and Jens's spotting scope at bravo and headed up to the point that Jens had indicated on the map. We quickly set up the Barrett and the scope, and sure enough, the BG was doing some serious ass-chewing, and the men were weathering it standing at attention.

I looked over at Jens and smiled. This was going to be fun. "Range me, my love."

Jen answered, "You sneaky devil dog, I love you! Range, eighteen forty-three meters; elevation, minus fifteen; wind, two at three thirty-three."

I made the scope adjustments, tucked the Barrett tight against my shoulder, took a full breath, let it out half way, and gently squeezed the trigger.

"Great shot, my love," Jens said. "Damn, you scared the crap out of the BG ... You should have seen him jump."

The BG was so shaken up he didn't release the men from attention, so I just kept shooting until I emptied the first eight-round mag and slammed in my second. Finally, the BG realized that his men were getting "killed" because they were still at attention, and he released them.

Jens asked with an evil smile on her face, "How many points for "killing" a BG?"

"Shit, don't tell me he has a sensor vest."

"All the brass does, and they're just standing there looking stupid. Let's shoot them all, starting with the BG," Jens said.

"Range me again, my sweetheart."

"Let's show them what war is like. Range to BG, eighteen sixty-two meters; elevation, minus sixteen; wind, two at three thirty-three."

I tweaked the scope and had shot the BG and two bird colonels before they figured out they were targets and started moving. It didn't matter — they could run but they couldn't hide, and I ended up emptying the rest of that mag and one other. All the brass were "dead."

I slammed another mag home and asked Jens, "Are there any more targets my love?"

"Well, it looks like the rest of the leaders have figured out our position and are trying to work their way up here. You want to try for them or move?"

"I've had about enough fun with this Barrett for now. I don't know how they did it, but even with the sniper simulation system, it still kicks like a son of a bitch. You want to try some shots, and I will spot you?" I asked.

"Oh, goody. You're going to let me play with your gun," Jens emphasized the double entendre knowing we weren't on the radio.

"Only if you're gentle and don't break it," I said with a laugh.

We switched places. Jens said, "Rape me — I mean, range me, my love."

I laughed so hard I moved the scope. Once I got it back on target I replied, "Range to closest target, fourteen twenty-nine meters; elevation, minus ten; wind, three at three thirty."

Jens set the scope, pulled the rifle butt tight against her shoulder, lined up on the first target, and boom, one was "dead." She emptied the mag, getting seven more kills.

"Damn, that kicks like a mule," she commented. "I think I've had enough, too. Let's get out of here."

On the way back to bravo, Jens said to me, almost crying, "Ben, I seriously fucked up and need to apologize to you. We were in such a hurry to get over here that I didn't bring any other weapons with me. Because of that, we couldn't kill the rest of the targets. Not only that, it could have cost us our lives. I promise you I'll never make this mistake again."

"Shit, it was more my mistake than yours," I answered. "After all, I'm the packhorse of this unit."

That made her laugh and put her back in a good mood. "If you're my horse, when do I get to ride you?"

"Never," I said. "Don't you know that you don't ride a pack horse?"

She pouted at me. "Well then, it's too bad you aren't a cowboy."

"Why's that?"

"Because then I could save the horse and ride the cowboy." She smacked my butt. "Haw, get moving, horse."

"But I'm an Indian," I said.

"I guess that means I would have to ride you bareback," Jens laughed.

Back at bravo, I hid the Barrett and Jens checked the tactical on the computer. "It looks like the rest of the leaders turned back, so we're safe here for awhile longer. And the BG and the brass are almost out of the exercise area. It will be interesting to see what the BG says when he gets outside and can talk."

Being "shot," had turned off his tactical radio, and he had to exit the training area before he could be made live again. I was concerned that the BG was going to chew our asses, but he had been in the training area in a vest, and he knew that made him a target of opportunity.