The Patriot
01-01-2004, 09:01 PM
The Crescent Commandos
Part II --- Colonel Burton's worst fears
--------------------------------
Panama December 28 2029 2045 hours
" Breathe....Relax....Aim....Stop....Squeeze, " whispered Joshua Hathcock to his apprentice as they both looked down their nightvision scope at faraway human figures walking.
"Yes sir, I remember sir," a pile of twigs and leaves right besides Joshua whispered back. Under it was Vince Lee, on his first real mission since his graduation from Sniping School, two days ago. Snipers were frantically needed on all fronts and the American military is trying to train them fast without compromising quality.
The crosshair drifted as Vince breathed, then he held his breath and the crosshair stopped dead centered on one of the enemies, more than 300 yards away. The target, oblivious of people watching him, was smoking a cigarette, his antique AK-74 rifle hanging on his back.
Only, Vince did not fire. It wasn't time yet. The two snipers were merely watching the battlefield, hidden under piles of leaves. Somewhere to their east, two squads of U.S. Army troops will make the ground assault, supported by 2 platoons of four squad each, from Panama Army. The idea was to push the enemy to retreat into a minefield that Rangers carefully laid the night before. While the rebels are stranded in the minefield, the snipers are supposed to pick off the few that make it through. After the rebels are destroyed, the enemy camp must be levelled, and all the "Colombian gold" burned. For this was a cocaine production facility deep in Panama's jungle. The drug lords have infested Central America's jungles since decades. With the Latin American government unable to match the drug lord's mercenary armies, the United States had to step in, not only to secure its Southern borders from illegal drug traffic, but because dangerous weapons are also smuggled into the US by the same drug routes. Furthermore, there had been solid intelligence linking drug money with the financing of terrorist activities. Thus the drug lords were American enemies, as much as the Global Liberation Army.
The sound of footsteps aroused the snipers' fine-tuned ears. Two people were approaching, both of them carrying guns. They are closer now, two people and a dog.
Vince's face grew pale with fear, though it didn't show under the thick layer of green camouflage paint. No matter how well camouflaged a sniper is, dogs can always smell him out. That's how the North Vietnamese found American commandos during the Vietnam War 70 years ago, they used dogs. His sniper rifle in one hand, his USP in another, he prepared for the worst. Joshua, the more experienced one, motioned to his green apprentice to stay still.
The rebel patrol came from behind the sniper rather than in front of them, so neither of them saw it coming through the scopes. The sound of Spanish speaking can now be distinctly heard. Their voice is changing directions, maybe they will walk around the snipers after all.
Then the dog growled.
Twenty yards, ten yards....the one thing worse than having a dog come at you is that you have to stay immobile facing the other direction. Stay there and the dog will find you, move and the men will find you. It's one of the worst Catch-22's.
The dog led the men to two large piles of leaves between a few trees. From the piles of leaves one could see 300 yards into the rebel camp without being seen. It was a perfect sniping position. The dog was now diving into the leaves, tugging at something. Vince heard the metallic cocking sound of two Kalashnikov rifles.
Then he fired. The first shot hit one of the man in the head, he fell and in his deathgrip his rifle traced a great arc in space while firing off all 30 rounds in the magazine. Leaves fell from trees like rain and birds flew away in croaking hordes.
The second rebel fired his rifle full-auto into the two piles of leaves, hitting the dog in the process.
He never finished his magazine. A shot much lighter than his rifle shot sputtered and stopped him cold. Another shot pinned him to the ground. As he tumbled to the ground, in his last breath he looked upward and saw a pair of eyes looking down, along with a smoldering USP muzzle. His finger tightened around his rifle as he tried to bring it to fire. Too late, he expired.
Vince held on with his elbow to the tree he was perched in, and contemplated the rebel patrol he just wiped out, lying below him. Joshua was in the neighboring tree. The two piles of leaves on the ground were merely diversion, there was an ultra-sound emitter buried in them to distract the dog from the trees.
"Why did you fire your gun?" Josh Hathcock was visibly mad, "now the entire rebel camp will be to full alert."
"I thought my USP was silenced, so it shouldn't have been a problem. I didn't expect that death grip....besides, once the dog realizes there was nothing on the ground, it will pick up the trails on the trees."
Two mile from there, a column of American soldiers were moving quietly but swiftly through the jungle. Sweat dripped from their faces like dew on the leaves. Their HK OICW rifles bounced on their back as they left footprints in the muddy grass. At their head was a tall and bald man with a Gattling gun slung across his shoulders. The soldiers knew him as Colonel Burton, a tough and disciplined fighter who knew how to lead his men. He was friendly to people he trusts, but not even his closest friends knew his first name. There were rumors that he didn't have a first name, because he was among a batch of genetically engineered soldiers from the early 21st century, before human cloning was totally forbidden as unethical. Nobody knew if that was the case, as he tends to keep his lips tight and his face tense on that matter.
As he was running through the jungle at the head of two squads of his men, Colonel Burton's face was tenser than usual. Not only because the two snipers gave away their position and alerted the enemy and spoiled this surprise raid, but also because a satellite link from Washington just told Burton that his daughter was a passenger on a bus that has just been hijacked by terrorists, on American soil.
Part II --- Colonel Burton's worst fears
--------------------------------
Panama December 28 2029 2045 hours
" Breathe....Relax....Aim....Stop....Squeeze, " whispered Joshua Hathcock to his apprentice as they both looked down their nightvision scope at faraway human figures walking.
"Yes sir, I remember sir," a pile of twigs and leaves right besides Joshua whispered back. Under it was Vince Lee, on his first real mission since his graduation from Sniping School, two days ago. Snipers were frantically needed on all fronts and the American military is trying to train them fast without compromising quality.
The crosshair drifted as Vince breathed, then he held his breath and the crosshair stopped dead centered on one of the enemies, more than 300 yards away. The target, oblivious of people watching him, was smoking a cigarette, his antique AK-74 rifle hanging on his back.
Only, Vince did not fire. It wasn't time yet. The two snipers were merely watching the battlefield, hidden under piles of leaves. Somewhere to their east, two squads of U.S. Army troops will make the ground assault, supported by 2 platoons of four squad each, from Panama Army. The idea was to push the enemy to retreat into a minefield that Rangers carefully laid the night before. While the rebels are stranded in the minefield, the snipers are supposed to pick off the few that make it through. After the rebels are destroyed, the enemy camp must be levelled, and all the "Colombian gold" burned. For this was a cocaine production facility deep in Panama's jungle. The drug lords have infested Central America's jungles since decades. With the Latin American government unable to match the drug lord's mercenary armies, the United States had to step in, not only to secure its Southern borders from illegal drug traffic, but because dangerous weapons are also smuggled into the US by the same drug routes. Furthermore, there had been solid intelligence linking drug money with the financing of terrorist activities. Thus the drug lords were American enemies, as much as the Global Liberation Army.
The sound of footsteps aroused the snipers' fine-tuned ears. Two people were approaching, both of them carrying guns. They are closer now, two people and a dog.
Vince's face grew pale with fear, though it didn't show under the thick layer of green camouflage paint. No matter how well camouflaged a sniper is, dogs can always smell him out. That's how the North Vietnamese found American commandos during the Vietnam War 70 years ago, they used dogs. His sniper rifle in one hand, his USP in another, he prepared for the worst. Joshua, the more experienced one, motioned to his green apprentice to stay still.
The rebel patrol came from behind the sniper rather than in front of them, so neither of them saw it coming through the scopes. The sound of Spanish speaking can now be distinctly heard. Their voice is changing directions, maybe they will walk around the snipers after all.
Then the dog growled.
Twenty yards, ten yards....the one thing worse than having a dog come at you is that you have to stay immobile facing the other direction. Stay there and the dog will find you, move and the men will find you. It's one of the worst Catch-22's.
The dog led the men to two large piles of leaves between a few trees. From the piles of leaves one could see 300 yards into the rebel camp without being seen. It was a perfect sniping position. The dog was now diving into the leaves, tugging at something. Vince heard the metallic cocking sound of two Kalashnikov rifles.
Then he fired. The first shot hit one of the man in the head, he fell and in his deathgrip his rifle traced a great arc in space while firing off all 30 rounds in the magazine. Leaves fell from trees like rain and birds flew away in croaking hordes.
The second rebel fired his rifle full-auto into the two piles of leaves, hitting the dog in the process.
He never finished his magazine. A shot much lighter than his rifle shot sputtered and stopped him cold. Another shot pinned him to the ground. As he tumbled to the ground, in his last breath he looked upward and saw a pair of eyes looking down, along with a smoldering USP muzzle. His finger tightened around his rifle as he tried to bring it to fire. Too late, he expired.
Vince held on with his elbow to the tree he was perched in, and contemplated the rebel patrol he just wiped out, lying below him. Joshua was in the neighboring tree. The two piles of leaves on the ground were merely diversion, there was an ultra-sound emitter buried in them to distract the dog from the trees.
"Why did you fire your gun?" Josh Hathcock was visibly mad, "now the entire rebel camp will be to full alert."
"I thought my USP was silenced, so it shouldn't have been a problem. I didn't expect that death grip....besides, once the dog realizes there was nothing on the ground, it will pick up the trails on the trees."
Two mile from there, a column of American soldiers were moving quietly but swiftly through the jungle. Sweat dripped from their faces like dew on the leaves. Their HK OICW rifles bounced on their back as they left footprints in the muddy grass. At their head was a tall and bald man with a Gattling gun slung across his shoulders. The soldiers knew him as Colonel Burton, a tough and disciplined fighter who knew how to lead his men. He was friendly to people he trusts, but not even his closest friends knew his first name. There were rumors that he didn't have a first name, because he was among a batch of genetically engineered soldiers from the early 21st century, before human cloning was totally forbidden as unethical. Nobody knew if that was the case, as he tends to keep his lips tight and his face tense on that matter.
As he was running through the jungle at the head of two squads of his men, Colonel Burton's face was tenser than usual. Not only because the two snipers gave away their position and alerted the enemy and spoiled this surprise raid, but also because a satellite link from Washington just told Burton that his daughter was a passenger on a bus that has just been hijacked by terrorists, on American soil.