A gunnery sergeant arrives and asks for me. I stand and go with him to the firing line where he directs me to my little sniper hole. “Southwest, to the left of the wire,” he says. I look where he indicates and frown. “Mortars,” I say, sighting down my scope.
“Are they trained on our position?”
I flip down a few lenses and adjust the sighting but find no way of knowing for sure. I shrug. “I don’t know sergeant.”
“Pick off any crews that come to man it, I’m alerting the Captain.”
“What’s up?” Kat asks a moment after the sergeant has gone.
“Mortars setting up along the line by the forest,” I say, nodding toward the area we’d been gassed the night before. “He wants me to pick off any crews I find.”
Kat hisses through his teeth and tosses his cigarette into the muck. “Damn them. Half a day to go.” Continue reading