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

Chapter 7, Part 4 - First Contact

A rather quick reunion, Rick was happy to see two men – two friends – whom he had not met in years. Gaz and Ark; the British sniper team under Rodent back near Jalalabad three years ago.

A look of confusion and surprise was the first thing that Rick could see on their goggle-covered faces. “How the hell did you get to be an officer?” Gaz asked, Rick remembering the sharp-eyed bearded man who loved his hat too much. He didn’t have his sniper in his hands, though. Instead he carried a tan-painted M4A1 with a long suppressor and a 4x ACOG sight.

Rick only replied with a grin. He was glad to see the two, still alive, well, and doing their job.

Gaz continued. “Gah we’ll catch up later at base, alright? We’ve got a whole platoon to save down there.” He then rushed towards the crater, patting Rick’s shoulder as he passed. Ark followed several meters behind him and pat the familiar Rick’s shoulder as well.

What a reunion.

Captain Killbride’s Recon Team set up at a small dike not far from the crash site. The five recon team members, a sniper, spotter, and three multi-use riflemen, were like the company’s MVPs. Captain Killbride labeled them as ‘Dagger’s tip’ though that, somehow, made Rick and his platoon a bit upset. Dagger Two was the tip, and the recon team were simply quiet douchebags sitting a mile back next to the captain’s command post. But Sergeant John Y’Barra, Dagger Company’s sniper, wanted to prove Rick wrong. Ranger snipers were among the best, and he was sure he could save ‘Second Lieutenant’ Rick Salvade’s ass anytime. And yes, ‘Second lieutenant.’

Y’Barra didn’t really like Rick Salvade. Ever since they were both privates, they were constant rivals; since the first day in Ranger school.

SGT Y’Barra was a hard lumberjack’s son who loved hunting. He began shooting a rifle since he was 5, when his dad gave him a BB gun to shoot wild rodents. Then at the age of 10, he owned his real hunting rifle. Since then he honed his skills everyday – shooting everything from stray nuts to squirrels and ducks. And he was a crack shot. Much better than Rick.

He wore a shemagh on his face and his light helmet tight on his head, nightvision mounts sticking up from it. He could see Rick through his scope, who was running along with 1st squad towards the large crater. The ACU-wearing man ran quickly. Y’Barra could imagine the jingles of the velcroed equipment.

“Heads up John, targets at your two o’clock.” His spotter said.

“Roger that. Shifting.” His voice was heavy and cold, but his face was unidentifiable due to the shemagh that was wrapped around it. He put his face on the stock off the tan-colored Mk 11 Mod 0, a modular sniper rifle that is a 7.62mm version of the 5.56mm M16. As its role as a sniper/marksman rifle, it has a longer barrel and a fixed stock, not to forget the huge suppressor often seen attached to it.

John Y’Barra shifted, and looked down his scope.

The trucks had stopped and formed a formidable roadblock of machinegun nests. There was a Dushka mounted on one, while the other two had either PKMs or decades-old RPDs. Y’Barra couldn’t really distinguish them. He didn’t care. He just wanted to kill.

He focused his scope onto one of the gunners. Most of the bastards were hiding behind the truck while spraying their bullets all around the advancing rangers; though there was nothing to fear, for they did not fire accurate enough. They were also static, making them easier targets for the veteran sergeant.

The gunner was firing his heavy, metal-ripping Dishka like a mad man. He seemed to have his mouth open, yelling as he fired. Y’Barra’s killer mind decided to have fun with it. Let’s make a second mouth on his face. He grinned. “I’m taking down that asshole on the Dushka.” He said.