“See anything, Bolivar?” the spotter softly spoke to the sniper.
He shook his head in negative.
The scorching sun was making both of them uncomfortable, but none of them moved. They were trained not to; trained to stay still for hours together.
The whole setting was as arid as you can imagine. Afghanistan at this time of the year was boiling. Camouflaged between two rocks, their sights were fixed at the broken highway. The distance must have been 950 yards from where they were. To be exact, it was 962 yards.
They kept on surveying the highway looking for the movement they waited for.
Their local contact had informed the Intelligence guys that a top-ranked Taliban Cleric known as “Mr. W” would be using that road to visit a village few miles from there any time in those three days. The news was important. Top-level classified. Absolutely at the last moment, the duo of Bolivar and Hector was dropped at the location. Operation Green Turban was on. 3 Days it was!
“I doubt if he would arrive”, Hector murmured. “The frigging son of a gun must have been tipped off”.
He did not react. The wait had been long, and he hoped that it would end soon. At the same time he knew that time was a dimension which did not apply to their line of work. What mattered was “timing”. He patiently waited. He took a sip from a small pipe which made its way to a bottle of glucose water in his backpack.
His eyes were on the road. The landscape was barren yet beautiful. For miles, they could not see anybody. Their only point of contact was with the mobile command post some Fifty miles away. A company of Marines had spread around the place to take care of an ambush if required.
The orders given to Sergeant David Koffler (Code name Bolivar) were very clear- “Take out the cleric and extract”. Shoot and scoot.
They waited.
******
“My baby sister is having a baby”, Hector announced. His non-stop blabbering had disturbed David during their initial years as a team, but slowly he adjusted to it. Now he “filtered” his words. Hector was extremely good with his eyes and that is what mattered to “Bolivar”.
Somehow, there was nothing in sight today. For hours they lay waiting. The sun was getting ready to set. The chill in the breeze increased.
“39 Hours”, Hector announced. Bolivar just nodded back.
******
His M40 A3 Rifle was his best friend. A complex amalgamation of fiberglass and gunmetal, she was put into his hand the moment he reported for duty after clearing “Sniper School”. Yes! She was beautiful.
He treated “her” like a woman. It’s funny, but he had named her “Lady Di. “She” had killer curves that slid into his arms, her head comfortably resting on his shoulder. Once his eyes met hers and his finger lingering over her lips-like trigger, they became together a deadly combination.
There were a lot of thoughts on his mind. Primarily he thought about the mortgage payments on the small house in Calabasas that he and his wife Linda had decided upon before he left for Afghanistan.
“Will we be able to afford it, David?
“It’s steep, but we should be able to get it”.
They looked at their three children who were growing up with time. David’s mind argued with the incoming financial burden. The house might have a price but the happiness of his family was priceless.
******
They took turns to nap. It was a normal routine that David and Hector followed.
David thought about the day before the operation started. They were summoned to the Commanding Officer’s office with one word- This is Top Secret.
“Guys, Operation Green Turban- this is important and this is classified- top level” Colonel Brad Haskins informed them.
They were to be dropped into wilderness two hundred miles into enemy territory for a “strategic elimination”. The target was top priority.
“You do not get to know who it is, you do not get to know where he is till the last moment. Lt. Miller will be Fifty miles away at a mobile command post relaying orders and helping you if need be.”
“Roger, Sir”, their voices echoed.
“This is important. Your success can bring a lot of stability to the regime here, and force the suckers in Pentagon to let a lot of us go back home. Remember, Snipers do not read history, they write it”.
******
Mr. W was recognizable from his trademark green turban. The information that came to them was that Mr. W always came out wearing a green turban and dark sunglasses. As soon as the green turban was visible after stepping out of the car, Hector murmured.
“Wolf in range”
“962 Yards distance, wind at 13.50 miles an hour, target locked”
Bolivar took aim. “Lady Di” was ready to breathe fire. His index finger tightened on the trigger. And then what happened was not imagined by them even in their wildest dreams.
Another man wearing a green turban and dark sunglasses stepped out of the car.
“Stop, we got a bogey”, Hector murmured. Bolivar loosened his grip on the trigger.
Then another man wearing the same attire stepped out. In total there were three people in the entourage who could be Mr. W- or could it be none of them?
******
Mr. W did not enter the village. He waited for someone.
Bolivar meanwhile was studying all the three men that could probably be Mr. W. They were similar. They stood in three different directions thereby reducing the probability of the correct man being shot to one-third. None of them moved. The end of the green turban fluttered softly in the breeze.
Some people were walking towards the entourage. Bolivar waited. He knew they would approach the correct Mr. W and then he could take his shot.
Each person was searched thoroughly by the guards of Mr. W at a safe distance. One by one they were cleared.
“I think it’s the left one”
Bolivar negated Hector’s view. He knew there was a catch here. He couldn’t take the shot. If he missed, a gun battle would ensue dimming his chances of eliminating his target.
He found it. He knew who and where the real Mr. W was.
“Wolf inside the horse. Horse wearing Kevlar”
“What?” Hector exclaimed.
Yes, there he was! Mr. W was sitting inside the bulletproof SUV.
“Lady Di” breathed fire.
The round went and hit the tire puncturing it. The hissing sound brought a few people closer to the car. Bolivar shot again puncturing the tire of the second car. They were lucky. Mr. W came with a small entourage which had minimum security. He probably did not want to draw attention. This was boon for the marines and a bane for him.
The Afghans started firing volleys towards him. But he was far. They shouted into a radio asking for reinforcements.
Hector spoke into the radio, “Pack of wolves retreating. Heavy growling. Send in the flying cats”.
David was strategically eliminating every target he could find. Each round after the other went deep into human flesh taking away a life with it. He looked in every direction but could not find the target he was looking for. Mr. W was nowhere to be seen.
He found what he was looking for. Somebody opened the door to the SUV and the real Mr. W came out.
David took the shot. The ammunition round left the barrel of his rifle and went in the direction aimed. When it hit the target, every nerve in David’s body breathed a sigh of relief.
******
He did not know where it came from. He did not know what hit him. All David Koffler remembered was that he felt was something hitting him hard followed by immense pain in his shoulder.
The next he remembered was waking up in the Base Hospital. CIA meanwhile had confirmed that Zardar Azgari, the second most influential cleric of the Taliban regime was confirmed killed.
******
The formal investiture ceremony was held at the White House. Staff Sergeant David Koffler was among the 7 men honored by the President of the United States for their uncommon valor in the face of the enemy. Their acts were considered beyond the call of duty, and the first citizen led the nation in expressing their gratitude to these selfless men.
“Staff Sergeant David Koffler, United States Marine Corps”.
The voice cited David’s act of bravery, which ended as, “….Staff Sargeant Koffler’s uncommon valor in the face of enemy gave the Marines an added advantage to fight the adversaries of democratic rule in Afghanistan. His steadfast devotion and unwavering courage to fight even when heavily outnumbered upheld the highest traditions of the Marine Corps and the United States Naval Service”
The awardee walked up to the dais and saluted the Commander of the Armed Forces. The salute was crisp. The “Medal of Honor” was pinned to his chest. After shaking hands with the President, he saluted again”.
This time the President noticed something different.
The Marine did not have an index Finger on his right hand. It was later that the President was informed that an Afghan Militia sniper had shot Sgt Koffler. The bullet passed nicked his shoulder but hit his hand before doing so. His index finger was damaged beyond any repair.
Staff Sergeant David Koffler will never hit the bull’s eye again.
P.S. The plot and the characters are all figments of my imagination. Any resemblance to any place or event or person-dead or alive is purely coincidental.
He shook his head in negative.
The scorching sun was making both of them uncomfortable, but none of them moved. They were trained not to; trained to stay still for hours together.
The whole setting was as arid as you can imagine. Afghanistan at this time of the year was boiling. Camouflaged between two rocks, their sights were fixed at the broken highway. The distance must have been 950 yards from where they were. To be exact, it was 962 yards.
They kept on surveying the highway looking for the movement they waited for.
Their local contact had informed the Intelligence guys that a top-ranked Taliban Cleric known as “Mr. W” would be using that road to visit a village few miles from there any time in those three days. The news was important. Top-level classified. Absolutely at the last moment, the duo of Bolivar and Hector was dropped at the location. Operation Green Turban was on. 3 Days it was!
“I doubt if he would arrive”, Hector murmured. “The frigging son of a gun must have been tipped off”.
He did not react. The wait had been long, and he hoped that it would end soon. At the same time he knew that time was a dimension which did not apply to their line of work. What mattered was “timing”. He patiently waited. He took a sip from a small pipe which made its way to a bottle of glucose water in his backpack.
His eyes were on the road. The landscape was barren yet beautiful. For miles, they could not see anybody. Their only point of contact was with the mobile command post some Fifty miles away. A company of Marines had spread around the place to take care of an ambush if required.
The orders given to Sergeant David Koffler (Code name Bolivar) were very clear- “Take out the cleric and extract”. Shoot and scoot.
They waited.
******
“My baby sister is having a baby”, Hector announced. His non-stop blabbering had disturbed David during their initial years as a team, but slowly he adjusted to it. Now he “filtered” his words. Hector was extremely good with his eyes and that is what mattered to “Bolivar”.
Somehow, there was nothing in sight today. For hours they lay waiting. The sun was getting ready to set. The chill in the breeze increased.
“39 Hours”, Hector announced. Bolivar just nodded back.
******
His M40 A3 Rifle was his best friend. A complex amalgamation of fiberglass and gunmetal, she was put into his hand the moment he reported for duty after clearing “Sniper School”. Yes! She was beautiful.
He treated “her” like a woman. It’s funny, but he had named her “Lady Di. “She” had killer curves that slid into his arms, her head comfortably resting on his shoulder. Once his eyes met hers and his finger lingering over her lips-like trigger, they became together a deadly combination.
There were a lot of thoughts on his mind. Primarily he thought about the mortgage payments on the small house in Calabasas that he and his wife Linda had decided upon before he left for Afghanistan.
“Will we be able to afford it, David?
“It’s steep, but we should be able to get it”.
They looked at their three children who were growing up with time. David’s mind argued with the incoming financial burden. The house might have a price but the happiness of his family was priceless.
******
They took turns to nap. It was a normal routine that David and Hector followed.
David thought about the day before the operation started. They were summoned to the Commanding Officer’s office with one word- This is Top Secret.
“Guys, Operation Green Turban- this is important and this is classified- top level” Colonel Brad Haskins informed them.
They were to be dropped into wilderness two hundred miles into enemy territory for a “strategic elimination”. The target was top priority.
“You do not get to know who it is, you do not get to know where he is till the last moment. Lt. Miller will be Fifty miles away at a mobile command post relaying orders and helping you if need be.”
“Roger, Sir”, their voices echoed.
“This is important. Your success can bring a lot of stability to the regime here, and force the suckers in Pentagon to let a lot of us go back home. Remember, Snipers do not read history, they write it”.
******
Mr. W was recognizable from his trademark green turban. The information that came to them was that Mr. W always came out wearing a green turban and dark sunglasses. As soon as the green turban was visible after stepping out of the car, Hector murmured.
“Wolf in range”
“962 Yards distance, wind at 13.50 miles an hour, target locked”
Bolivar took aim. “Lady Di” was ready to breathe fire. His index finger tightened on the trigger. And then what happened was not imagined by them even in their wildest dreams.
Another man wearing a green turban and dark sunglasses stepped out of the car.
“Stop, we got a bogey”, Hector murmured. Bolivar loosened his grip on the trigger.
Then another man wearing the same attire stepped out. In total there were three people in the entourage who could be Mr. W- or could it be none of them?
******
Mr. W did not enter the village. He waited for someone.
Bolivar meanwhile was studying all the three men that could probably be Mr. W. They were similar. They stood in three different directions thereby reducing the probability of the correct man being shot to one-third. None of them moved. The end of the green turban fluttered softly in the breeze.
Some people were walking towards the entourage. Bolivar waited. He knew they would approach the correct Mr. W and then he could take his shot.
Each person was searched thoroughly by the guards of Mr. W at a safe distance. One by one they were cleared.
“I think it’s the left one”
Bolivar negated Hector’s view. He knew there was a catch here. He couldn’t take the shot. If he missed, a gun battle would ensue dimming his chances of eliminating his target.
He found it. He knew who and where the real Mr. W was.
“Wolf inside the horse. Horse wearing Kevlar”
“What?” Hector exclaimed.
Yes, there he was! Mr. W was sitting inside the bulletproof SUV.
“Lady Di” breathed fire.
The round went and hit the tire puncturing it. The hissing sound brought a few people closer to the car. Bolivar shot again puncturing the tire of the second car. They were lucky. Mr. W came with a small entourage which had minimum security. He probably did not want to draw attention. This was boon for the marines and a bane for him.
The Afghans started firing volleys towards him. But he was far. They shouted into a radio asking for reinforcements.
Hector spoke into the radio, “Pack of wolves retreating. Heavy growling. Send in the flying cats”.
David was strategically eliminating every target he could find. Each round after the other went deep into human flesh taking away a life with it. He looked in every direction but could not find the target he was looking for. Mr. W was nowhere to be seen.
He found what he was looking for. Somebody opened the door to the SUV and the real Mr. W came out.
David took the shot. The ammunition round left the barrel of his rifle and went in the direction aimed. When it hit the target, every nerve in David’s body breathed a sigh of relief.
******
He did not know where it came from. He did not know what hit him. All David Koffler remembered was that he felt was something hitting him hard followed by immense pain in his shoulder.
The next he remembered was waking up in the Base Hospital. CIA meanwhile had confirmed that Zardar Azgari, the second most influential cleric of the Taliban regime was confirmed killed.
******
The formal investiture ceremony was held at the White House. Staff Sergeant David Koffler was among the 7 men honored by the President of the United States for their uncommon valor in the face of the enemy. Their acts were considered beyond the call of duty, and the first citizen led the nation in expressing their gratitude to these selfless men.
“Staff Sergeant David Koffler, United States Marine Corps”.
The voice cited David’s act of bravery, which ended as, “….Staff Sargeant Koffler’s uncommon valor in the face of enemy gave the Marines an added advantage to fight the adversaries of democratic rule in Afghanistan. His steadfast devotion and unwavering courage to fight even when heavily outnumbered upheld the highest traditions of the Marine Corps and the United States Naval Service”
The awardee walked up to the dais and saluted the Commander of the Armed Forces. The salute was crisp. The “Medal of Honor” was pinned to his chest. After shaking hands with the President, he saluted again”.
This time the President noticed something different.
The Marine did not have an index Finger on his right hand. It was later that the President was informed that an Afghan Militia sniper had shot Sgt Koffler. The bullet passed nicked his shoulder but hit his hand before doing so. His index finger was damaged beyond any repair.
Staff Sergeant David Koffler will never hit the bull’s eye again.
P.S. The plot and the characters are all figments of my imagination. Any resemblance to any place or event or person-dead or alive is purely coincidental.
