A Marine Called Jason
(Revised)
by: Peter

(© 2007-2012 by the Author)
 

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

Chapter 72
Another Spotter, Another Kill 

I was assigned a new spotter.  I met him at a briefing. Another kid.  Fresh faced, innocent, too eager, and trying to cover it all with a tough-guy attitude. Why were these kids so young? His name was Rick Richards. I tried not to judge; I remembered Sophomore, and how I had misjudged him.  I missed Sophomore.  I watched Richards during the briefings. He paid close attention and asked intelligent questions when it was time.  I had every respect for his training--I'd gone through it myself--but I wanted to take him by the horns and mold him into what I had to have as a spotter.

“Listen, lose the tough-guy attitude,” I told him as we were leaving the command tent.  “You don’t wear it well, and you don’t need it with me.”

He didn’t say anything, and I didn’t figure I needed to add anything to it.

"What experience have you had?" I asked.

"None."

"That's okay, nobody's got experience till they do it," I said.

We had the second and final briefing and were getting ready to go out that night, late.  Son of a bitch, if Richards didn’t show his stupidity, just as I was feeling comfortable with him.

“Geezuss Christ!” I swore when he came back in from the showers.  Normally, I would’ve taken the opportunity to ogle his trim, tight, muscular body, discreetly of course, but something else took priority over that.

“What?” he asked, when he realized I had directed my outburst at him.

“What the hell have you got on?” I asked.

“Nothing, obviously,” he said, with a bewildered look at his naked body.

“Yeah, I can see that. What’s that stuff you’re wearing that smells like a department store perfume counter?”

“Oh. That’s some new aftershave my girlfriend sent me,” he said, smiling. 

I almost asked him if he shaved but I didn't, and I didn't laugh.  "And deodorant?" I asked. 

"Yeah, I don't know how long we'll be out there, I don't wanta get to smelling like a horse," he said.

I saw some of the other guys smiling.

"You couldn't smell like a horse if you tried," I drawled.  “Fuck, didn’t they teach you anything in sniper school? Go take another shower, wash it off.  Shit, you can’t go out smelling like that, you’ll have Charlie all over us, and smelling like that, they’ll probably rape you before they slit your throat.”

He stood there with a dumbfounded look on his face, then said, “Oh,” and went back out to the showers.

“Lots of luck with that one,” someone said dryly.

“Please, somebody trip him when he comes back in, maybe break his arm,” I lamented.

“Hell, just tell the CO you’re not taking him with you,” another guy said.

“Naw, I’ll give him a chance,” I said, still remembering Sophomore and how I had misjudged him.

"I wouldn't," one of other men said.  "You're taking a bigger risk with him than you are with Charlie." 

Richards came back into the hooch, drying off from his second shower.  He still smelled too good, this time from soap. I dropped the equipment I had in my hand onto the bed and stood up and strode over to him.

“Goddamn, you still smell good enough to fuck. Come with me,” I said, as I led him outside.

“Hey! No! You’re not gonna……”

“No, Richards, I’m not gonna fuck you, not now anyway,” I said as I half dragged him out of the hooch.  On the way back to the showers I ripped off two hands full of leaves.  I turned on a shower and got under it with him, still in my shorts, and started rubbing the leaves all over his naked body.

“Hey, what’re you doing?”    

“You gotta go out into the jungle smelling like the jungle, not like a high school boy going on his first date, hoping to get lucky,” I said. “Do not shower or shave just before going out. Do that the night before, even two days before. The gooks have got smellers like track dogs.”

“Yes, sir, I wasn’t thinking,” he said meekly.

“And don’t call me sir,” I barked.  When I was finished rubbing the leaves all over his body, especially his ass and his thighs--and I even rubbed them in his crotch, and son-of-a-bitch if he didn’t spread his legs out to let me--I smacked him on his bare ass.  “Okay, you can go shower again and get some of that off, but do not use soap.”

“Okay.”

Then I did the damnedest thing.  It just came over me, with him standing there looking so young and cute and innocent, and I felt I pretty much had him in my power.  I put one hand around his head and grabbed him around the waist with my other arm and pulled in tight and I kissed him.  It wasn't sexual as much as it was harsh and commanding.  I kissed him hard, rubbing and smashing my stubble roughly over his face.  He struggled but he was no match for me.  I let him go and almost laughed at the stunned look on his face.

"Did you feel that?"

"Fuck, man, y-you fuckin’ k-kissed me!" he gasped.

"Did you feel it?" I asked again.

"Yeah, I….I f-felt it….s-something, b-but don't ever do that again."

I grabbed his hand, trying to keep from laughing, and pushed it into his crotch. "It wasn't that kind of kiss, Richards.  Did you feel this?" I brought his hand up and rubbed it over my bristled face.  "This is what I want you to look like when we go out, not all fresh faced and pussy smooth."

"Oh."

Then I realized from his look that it was a total mistake; totally unnecessary.  "Shit, you don't shave, do you?"

"I….do….b-but not every day.  Only about once a week.…. sometimes."

"Stop shaving. You shave only when I tell you to.  Now shower.  No soap." 

The guys were laughing when I came back in the hooch.

“Did you get him rubbed down and set straight?” one asked.  They knew about the rubbing down because I sometimes did that to myself before going out.

“Hell, I don’t know,” I drawled.       

“Man, I would like to rub him down and set him straight,” another said

“Hey, did he get a hardon when you were rubbing him down?” another guy asked.

“Fuck, I don’t know,” I said with a scowl.

“What I wanta know is, did you get a hardon rubbing him down?” another guy said, laughing.

“If I had, you would’ve heard him all the way to Saigon,” I said. I was a little unnerved. I almost told Richards he wasn’t going out with me, and just leave him behind.  But when he came back in and I saw how he was packing his gear and taking care of his rifle, I knew I had to take him.  I turned the lights out over my bunk and stretched out on my stomach to get some sleep. I didn't have to tell Richards to do the same.  He asked me, what if we don't wake up?

"We don't have an appointment with these fuckers," I drawled.  "Don't worry, I'll wake up."

I woke up a few hours later and woke Richards up. When we were ready, we headed for the heli-pad.

“Are we flying?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said.

“We're not going to jump, are we? I never jumped out of a plane before,” he said, his voice sounding unnerving.

“It’s not a plane,” I said.

“I’ve never jumped out of a helicopter either,” he said.  “Are we going to jump?”

“No. If conditions are right they’ll set us down,” I said.

“What if they can’t? What if they’re shooting at us when we get there?”

“We shoot back,” I said. “Whether they set us down or we get shot down, either way, we’ll be on the ground,” I said dryly.

“I would like to be on the ground in one piece,” he said

“Yeah, me too, but things don't always work out like we want.”

We were at the helicopter pad.  I climbed in.  Richards hesitated a second or two before he took my hand for me to pull him in.  I squeezed his thigh. “Don’t worry, they’ll set us down,” I assured him. Now if I just had somebody to reassure me.

It seemed further than on the map.  I finally tapped the co-pilot.

“Where the hell are you taking us?”

“Right down there, where you wanted to go,” he said, pointing up ahead. I saw the small clearing and poked Richards. I felt him tense up.  I moved to the open door and swung my legs out. He scooted up beside me.

"You ready?"

"Yup."

They set us down smooth as silk and we dismounted and ran like hell out of the clearing.

“Okay, stud, since you didn’t call a cab….,” I said as I started off through the thick jungle.

“You take everything so droll,” Richards said as we slowed to a walk once we were in the brush.

“No, you just take everything I say so droll,” I said.

“This guy sounds really important” Richards said.

“Yeah, we gotta fix that, so he’s not so important,” I said.

We had trekked through the jungle for about an hour when I heard Richard’s stomach growl. When it happened again, I stopped and shed my backpack.

“Why’re we stopping?” he asked.

“To eat,” I said. “Your stomach is sending out signals like a hungry bear.”

We chowed down on some rations and buried the cans and covered up the spot, then headed out again.  We disagreed on the location where we should set up the shot.  Richards wanted to take the high ground, up on a ledge overlooking the river and the rice paddies beyond, and a village beyond that.  I respected that he had his own opinion but I told him no.

“It’s a perfect spot, we’ll be able to see everything,” he argued.

“And anybody will be able to see us,” I said. “It’s exactly where they would expect us to be, and they’ve probably got their eye on it. We’re taking the low ground, below the ledge.”

That spot wasn’t what I wanted either but it got us moving again. I wasn’t as close as I wanted to be and there was too much open space out front, but we didn’t have time to tramp around looking for a possibly better place.  If it turned out to be no better, or worse, we were screwed.  I took off my pack and dug out my ghillie suit.  Richards asked me what I was doing.

“I need to get closer. I’m going to crawl out there in the scrub and wait.”

He brought his rifle up and looked through the scope. “You can take the shot from here,” he said.

I thought it was impertinent of him to tell me, the sniper team leader, where I could take the shot.  I started stuffing leaves and grass and foliage in my ghillie suit.

“I could, but it’s gotta count, and this terrain isn’t exactly as it looked on the map. Take a close look, the guy and his entourage could come in from any one of a half dozen routes we saw, but can't see now. I need to be closer so I can have all of those routes in my sights.”

“You’re leaving yourself wide open.”

“They’ll never see me.  You won’t see me,” I said.

“I’ll see you,” he said. 

“If this turns in to a cluster fuck, you head out,” I told him.

"What's a cluster fuck?"

Damn, when he said no experience, he was serious. "That's when everything goes wrong," I said.

“And leave you out there?  In a pig’s ass.”

“Don’t forget who’s running this show,” I said.

“Fuck it, I’m not leaving you.  That’s not in my job description.”

I didn’t press it.  I was impressed with his loyalty. When I had the suit done to my exacting specifications I laid it aside and took up a position of relaxation, leaning back against a tree.  Richards gave me a questioning look.  I nodded up to the sun.

“The shadows will be in my favor in a little while,” I said.

He nodded.

We waited for the sun to move a little lower.

“I heard what those guys were saying about me back at the hooch,” Richards said.

“What guys, saying what?”

“One of them said he would like to rub me down and set me straight, and another asked you if I got a hardon when you were rubbing me down with those leaves, and if you got a hardon.”

“I didn’t.  Did you?  I didn’t notice.”

“No.”

“Don’t pay any attention to those guys. You’re the FNG, you can expect to take some guff.”

“Does stuff like that go on in the hooch?” he asked.'

“Not usually in the hooch, that I know of,” I said.

“But it.…it does go on?”

“Yeah, from time to time, I hear.”

“Have you ever……?”

“You’re heading down a slippery slope, kid.  Why’re you asking all these questions?”

“Hey, I’m not a nark,” he said defensively. “I’m just curious.”

“What exactly are you curious about?” I asked.

“I wouldn’t get….I mean, they wouldn’t do anything, would they?”

“What do you mean by do anything?” I asked.

“You know, they wouldn’t do anything to a guy that he didn’t want ‘em to do.”

“If you’re talking about getting raped, I never heard of that happening,” I said.

“I never heard guys talk like that before,” he said.

“Just don’t sleep on your stomach,” I said.

He looked at me.  “You’re joking,” he said.

“I’m joking.”

He kept looking at me.  “I don’t think you are.  I heard you say that if you’d had a hardon they would’ve heard me all the way to Saigon.”

“Look, it gets lonely out here,” I said. “You haven’t been away from your girl all that long.  Some of these guys haven’t been with a woman for months.  If two guys happen to connect, well…..”  Richards laughed, sort of under his breath.  “I’m going to take a shot in the dark here….you’ve never been with a girl, have you?”

“Sure, I was fucking my girl all the time,” he said. He was lying through his teeth.

“This ain’t the high school locker room, you don’t have to lie to me,” I said.  “You’re still cherry.”

“Okay,” he said. “But I intend to do something about that first time I get into Saigon.”

“There are plenty of village girls between here and Saigon who would be more than happy to pluck your cherry,” I said.

“I want something a little classier,” he said. “Somebody who reminds me of my girlfriend.  But for now, I just wanta keep my other cherry intact, from those guys back at the hooch.”

“Okay, look, best advice I can give you, if you happen to look up and one of the guys is looking at you, don’t make eye contact.”

He frowned, looking confused.

“Hey, you’ve flirted with girls, you know how it is when you make eye contact, it’s the same thing, only out here, making hard eye contact is like sending out a message, fuck me.”

He was quiet for a few minutes. Then he asked, “Have you ever fucked a guy?”

“Yeah,” I replied without hesitation.

“Have you ever been fucked?”  

Again, I replied without hesitation. “Yeah.”

He blinked with surprise. “You have? When? How’d it happen? How’d it feel?”

“It was a long time ago, I guess I was about your age. How? Hell, I don’t remember the how.  It know it hurt at first.”

“At first? What about later?”

“I got used to it pretty quick; it felt sorta good. It got me off,” I said.

He eyed me like he wasn’t sure if he should believe me. “Listen, if it.…if it becomes inevitable, that I’m gonna get nailed, and you know it’s coming….could….could you do it, first?”

“Are you asking me to fuck you?” I asked with a surprised, grinning scowl.

“I'm saying if it comes to that, like if I know it’s gonna happen, or you do, I’d like to be broken in, so to speak, by someone I trust, then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad with the others.”  Then he looked embarrassed.  “Maybe I shouldn’t be talking like this, but you know, it’s a pretty helpless feeling, being stuck out here in this God-forsaken place with older guys, being the target for God only knows what those guys have got in mind for me.  I couldn't do anything about it and it wouldn’t do any good to go to the CO or the First Sergeant, so I know I gotta take whatever comes.”

“That’s a smart attitude, but I think you’re buying trouble,” I said. “You make it sound like the guys are a bunch of vultures, waiting to pick apart their prey.”

“You said you got nailed when you were about my age. What’s to prevent it from happening to me?”

“Nothing to prevent it, just don’t lay awake expecting it to happen.  And hey, I was kidding about not sleeping on your stomach.” I looked out at the sun. “Okay, cherry, I gotta head out, hand me my suit,” I said.

He looked at where he thought I'd put it.  Then he looked all around.  "Where is it?"

I laughed and nodded to it, barely two yards away.  "Told you, you wouldn't see me."

“I still don’t know what good I’m gonna do you back here,” he said.

“Moral support,” I said.  I spread my ghille suit over me like a shawl, then covered my rifle with its own ghille suit.

“You made that,” Richards remarked.

“Yeah, the guys call it my wedding gown.”

“Don’t they furnish them?” he asked.

“Sometimes, but when they put them together in some factory then ship ‘em out, they don’t know what the terrain is like where they’re shipping them.  I made sure this one blends in,” I said.

Richards looked out across the area where I would be traveling but didn’t say anything.  Maybe I should’ve taken him with me; after all he was supposed to be my spotter, but I preferred that someone else broke him in on the job.

I pulled the suit up over my hat and moved out a little ways then started crawling.  I judged I had about an hour. Crawling, stalking, is a slow process that tests your patience.  I hadn’t had to do much of it since sniper school, and I was pleased with my progress and my patience.  It was like a stroll in the park.  Every now and then I paused to have a look around through my scope.  I was nearing the distance I wanted to be when suddenly I heard a ruckus at about ten o’clock. I took a stance to observe, to see if it was my target. Very carefully, without taking my eye off the scope, I pulled the pictures out of my upper pocket and held them up near the scope to compare. None of them were the guys in the two pictures.  I hunkered down to wait.

There was no ruckus when the second group of soldiers came into view from the other direction. I didn’t need the pictures again to recognize that these two were my targets. I checked the suppressor on my rifle that would silence the shot and eliminate the muzzle flash. I made a half dozen attempts to take aim but they were moving around too much, others getting in the way.

“Get the fuck out of the way!” I said to myself. Finally, I had a clear shot at the number one target, but number two was way too far off to the side and I really wanted to make it two for one if I could.  I waited to see if they might come in closer to each other.  Surely, as the number one and two men, they would have something to say to each other. I waited and waited, till it appeared they might be ready to move out toward the village. I could only guess what their mission was, but there were too many of them meeting up to be just a patrol. They were up to do some serious mischief and I had to interrupt that plan. I feared that with the amount of equipment and firepower they had, they might be going to wipe out an entire village. They did that sometimes, for no other reason than to terrorize.  I took careful aim at number one.  If there was just the right moment of confusion and panic--a second or two was all I needed--I could take out number two.

I took the shot.  Number One’s head practically disappeared off his shoulders, fairly exploding like a pumpkin being hit with a shotgun. A second later I got my panic and confusion I was hoping for, yelling and screaming and men rushing for cover.  Number Two was in my sights but suddenly it was as if he had spotted me. I mean, I could see his eyes staring right down my scope.  He couldn’t see me, of course, but it was an eerie feeling, and he started moving around, yelling commands and pointing up at the ledge, just like I told Richards would happen, but another junior officer was pointing off in another direction. Ah, yes, mass confusion and dissent among the ranks.  I stayed put while confusion reigned and they went in search of the shooter who had taken out their ranking officer.  The dumb asses passed by so close to me I could smell them.  I lay calm and relaxed.

I lay in the tangled grass for over an hour, till the two scouting parties had regrouped back where their leader’s lifeless, headless body still lay, now in a pool of blood.  Number Two ordered four men to carry him away while he gathered several others around him, chattering and waving his arms and pointing toward the village.  I had an awful gut feeling they were surely going to obliterate the village now, for revenge.  And that would be my fault.  I took aim.  I had to bring the son-of-a-bitch down. With him out of commission, I was sure the rest would scatter; there was seldom a third in command who knew what he was doing.  If they didn’t scatter, I would take out a few more of them before I retreated just to drive home my point that I didn’t want them there.  The officer moved but I got him in the chest, right where it hurt, in the heart, fatal. He dropped like a lead weight, clasping his chest, a wide-eyed look of shock on his face. He was dead before he hit the ground. My hunch was right; everybody scattered. I took three more of them out for good measure. 

I waited another hour before I began the crawl back.

I found Richards looking pale, trying to look brave. I smelled vomit.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Yeah. Damn, I see why you’re a sniper,” he said.

“Why?” I asked as I took off my ghillie suit.

“I didn’t even know where the fuck you were,” he said.

“Aren’t you glad we didn’t take the ledge,” I said.

“Okay, I owe you one,” he said.

I packed my ghillie suit and we headed back. Richards wanted to talk about it.

“I gotta tell you, that was awesome. I didn’t know where the fuck you were but I caught it all in my scope. I never seen anything like it; that guy’s head just blew apart."

“You threw up,” I said.

“Yeah,” he said, sheepishly. “You’re not gonna tell, are you?”

“What’ll you give me to keep my mouth shut?” I joked.

“The guys won’t let me live it down if you tell them I puked,” he said. “And Colonel Whitaker probably won’t let me go out with you again if he finds out.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t go out again,” I said. “Maybe you’re not cut out for it.  You’re a trained sniper too, you know.  Your time will come when you’re the one taking the shot.”

“Didn’t it bother you at all, seeing that guy’s head disappear like that?”

“No.”

“How could it not?” he asked.

“Easy. It was his head, not one of our guys,” I said. “I don’t think you went to the same sniper school I did.”

“You’re going to tell the CO, aren’t you?”

“I have to file a report,” I said.

“Do what you have to do,” he said rather sullenly.  “I still gotta tell you, it was pretty awesome.  I mean, that wedding gown.  I watched you for a little bit when you were crawling out, then I looked away at something and when I looked back, I couldn’t tell where the fuck you were.  You just fuckin’ disappeared into the landscape.”

“If you ever head up a sniper team, make your own suit,” I said.

I was feeling safe and pretty confident in my prowess.  I thought we were home free.  Sophomore/Richards had to stop and take a piss.  He started to shoulder his rifle.

"No, give it to me."

I held his rifle while he stepped up to a tree.  He hauled out his equipment and I heard him pissing.  Then suddenly I heard something besides Richards pissing; a soft rustling in the bush.   

"Why'd you pick that tree, Richards?"  I asked calmly. I didn't want to spook him in the middle of it. I moved around where I heard the noise, around Richards, undoing my fly.  Whoever it was in the bush, I didn't want to tip my hand.

"I don't know.  What makes the difference which tree I piss on?"

I kept talking. "Why didn't you just haul it out and piss?"  I saw the guy then, down in a tight crouch, well hidden by the brush, barely yards in front of me.  I knew he had seen us both but he didn't think we had seen him.  Both hands were on his rifle but I had moved and he couldn't get the shot he wanted without exposing his position.  It was easy to get in his head; he was going to stay put and wait till we moved on then take us out. I had other plans. "It's a fuckin' jungle, Richards, the trees don't care which one you piss on," I said.  

"What I wanta know is why you're so interested in where I take a piss," he drawled.

"Here's your rifle….catch….so I can take a piss," I said as I tossed his rifle to him.  At the same time I took my knife out of the sheath and lunged.  The VC had inched closer to us.  He brought his rifle up and I yelled at Richards to "Get down!" at the same time I grabbed the guy in a choke hold and drew the knife blade across his throat.  He couldn't cry out but he tried and he made a surprising amount of noise as his life gurgled out of him.  It was a horrible noise. I did a quick search of his pockets but didn't find anything but a lighter which I put in my pocket.  He wouldn’t be needing it anymore.

Richards saw the scuffle in the bush as he was turning to snatch his rifle out of the air.  He caught it just in time to see the VC slump over in his final throes of death, and me raise up with blood on my hands and on the knife.   

"Oh, Fuck!  Holy shit!" he gasped, his face turning ashen.  Then he turned back to the tree he'd just pissed on and he threw up again.

While he was puking I wiped my knife on my pants leg and took out my canteen to wash the blood off my hands.  When he was done I handed the canteen to him.   "Don't drink it," I said.

He rinsed his mouth out and handed the canteen back, his hands shaking.

"You okay?" 

He nodded.  "Yeah."

We headed out. 

"Fuck, man, that was close. He was right on us.  How do we know he was the only one?"

"We don't, but I think he was a lone scout.  Stay alert. And don't shoulder your rifle out here.  You can't let go of your dick and get it off our shoulder that quick."

For several yards he still had the dry heaves.  "How the fuck do you do that?  Godd, with your bare hands."

"You've got a knife, didn't they teach you how to use it?"

"Yes, but...I never ever thought I would ever have to.  Not like that."

I stopped and faced him, my hand on his shoulder.  "Richards, didn't they tell you?….you're in fuckin’ Vietnam.  It's a fuckin' war zone.  That gook back there, if I hadn't seen him it would've been you lying back there with your throat slit.  This ain't basic training.  It's the real thing.  We're here to kill people. Just remember, they didn’t give you that knife to peel potatoes."

"I didn't even see him,” he said. 

“That comes with experience,” I said. I didn’t plan on taking Richards with me again. My report on him was not going to be a glowing one. We reached our pickup point and waited at the edge of the clearing where the helicopter would land.  I was a little shaky inside myself now that it was over.

"That was the first time I ever killed a man like that," I told Richards. 

He looked at me with a doubtful scowl.  "You acted like it was an everyday occurrence."

"That was reflex."

"I don't think I could've done it."

"Yes you could.  If it comes down to you or him, you could do it."  I said it but I didn’t believe it.  I took the lighter out of my pocket and handed it to him.  "Here, something to remember this day."  I wasn't sure he was going to take it.  Finally he put it in his pocket.  "Make up a good story to go with it."      

"I won't have to make anything up," he said.

"No, I mean, make it up that it was you who wasted the gook.  I don't care.  Listen, back to what we were talking about earlier. Do you still want me to pop your cherry for you?”  I was thinking ahead. If he was serious I didn't want to let the opportunity pass.

“No, not necessarily. I’m not hankering to have a big stiff cock tear my ass open, but if it’s gonna happen, I’d just as soon you do it,” he said

“Okay, we’ll arrange something,” I said. “One thing,” I went on. “You can’t chicken out. You can change your mind beforehand, but once we start, there’s no backing out.”

“I won’t back out.”

“You gonna tell your girl about it if we do it?” I asked.

“Hell, no!”

I laughed. “You wanta do it right. We’ll wait till we can go into Saigon, and get a room.”

The bird didn't set down.  It hovered and let down the ropes. I didn't give Richards time to think about it, I grabbed him by the arm and dragged him out into the clearing.  "Shoulder your rifle!" I yelled as we ran. I wasn't expecting this either but there had to be a reason, and the extract wasn’t going to be by the book.  I kept hold of Richards' shirt as I grabbed one of the swinging ropes then I set his foot in the knotted loop.  "Enjoy the ride!"  I grabbed the other rope and the helicopter took off as we were ascending.  We were a mile away before we were pulled in and slammed against the bulkhead.

"Is he okay?"  the pilot said, looking around at Richards.

I looked at him.  He was pale. "He's afraid of heights, that's all," I said.

I wished I could tell Richards he did okay….make him feel better….but I couldn't.  It wasn't about making him feel better, it was about he shouldn't be part of a sniper team.  He was going to get himself killed, and his team leader along with him.         

I pondered whether to tell the Colonel all about Richards. I wouldn’t tell the guys he’d upchucked all over himself, I wouldn’t do that to him, but the CO was another story.  I really didn’t think the kid was cut out for the job; he could be a danger. I certainly didn’t want to take him with me again.  I danced around it when I went to report in.

“How’d the new boy do?”

“He did okay,” I said.

“Just okay?”

“It was uneventful for him, the way I set up the shot,” I said. “But maybe you can tell me, sir, when did my MOS get changed to babysitter?”

“He didn’t do okay," the officer said flatly.

“He puked,” I said. “He saw me take the shot and he puked.”

“Not all that unusual for a FNG his first time out.”

"We ran into a VC scout on the way back, I took him out with my knife.  Richards puked again. I’m just telling you, Sir, it was the last time out with me,” I said. “If I have to take him again, I will lose him. I’m getting tired of babysitting these kids.  Fuck, Colonel, he took a shower and put on aftershave last night.  He don't even shave, but he smelled like a high school boy on his first date.  What the hell is going on back there, anyway? When I was in sniper school, there wasn’t one guy that I wouldn’t take with me."

"He deserves a chance," the CO said.

"He's had his chance," I said.  "I’ve got a buddy who’s a sniper, Sir, and he never has a spotter with him.  He operates alone, so I know it’s done.”  

He leaned back in his chair and thought for a moment. “If you’re sure that’s how you want to operate. Just remember, an extra man along could come in handy in a firefight, trying to get back out.”

“Not when I feel like I have to protect him,” I said. “I’d rather fight my way out on my own.”

“Okay. We’ll try it and see how things go.”

“Thank you, Sir.  Listen, could you come up with some reason why he doesn’t go back out with me?  Something to save face.  I don’t want him thinking I don’t want him.”

“You don’t,” he said.

“I know, but let him down easy. What I really think you should do, Sir, is transfer him out of here. He don’t have what it takes. I know he went through sniper school but you don’t get blood on your hands back there in school.”

“I will take that under advisement."

To be continued...  

Posted: 03/13/15 rp