It was going to be a tricky shot to be sure; not as hard as some of the elite sniper shots in history, but difficult none the less. The air was still and cold at 5:30 in the morning. The sun was just starting to creep up and over the tall mountains that surround the village currently under surveillance.
"Seven hundred fifty meters," whispered Staff Sergeant Ryan to his shooter.
"Seven five oh meters," echoed Staff Sergeant Fields from behind the scope of his sniper rifle. In his sights, an insurgent was planting an improvised explosive device in a road frequented by coalition convoys. A medium size stray dog picked its way through some garbage near the insurgents. Neither the Taliban, nor the snipers paid it any mind as it searched for its morning meal.
"Firing," Fields said as he squeezed the trigger.
The insurgent's chest exploded as the .50 caliber round struck him dead center, killing him instantly. The sound of the shot broke the early morning silence. A second insurgent who was helping the first started to run for cover. Fields adjusted his aiming point, and pulled the trigger. This second shot was more difficult as the target was on the run, ducking and weaving as he went. His evasive maneuvers were to no avail. The second insurgent's left shoulder was impacted by the second shot, tearing his left arm from his body. He bled out from his wound moments later.
A small truck engine roared to life and the once hidden vehicle pulled out from behind some buildings and hit the road at a high speed. Fields trained his rifle on the truck, but the distance was soon too great. Instead Sergeant Ryan picked up his radio and keyed the mike.
"Eagle Six, this is Red Two; I've got a truck running at a high rate of speed away from the target, possible IED materials in the bed, do you have eyes on; over?"
"Roger that Red Two, we're laying on an intercept, stand by for BDA; over."
"Wilco." Ryan said, indicating that he would report the effectiveness of the coming aerial strike.
Just then the hellfire missile fired from an orbiting predator drone struck the truck, obliterating it, and whoever had been inside.
Ryan whistled to himself as he watched the truck burn on the side of the road. He picked up his radio and keyed the mike. "Eagle six, direct hit, no survivors observed."
"Roger that, you are clear to exfil the area, RTB."
"Roger Eagle Six, Red Two out," Ryan completed the call. "Time to go get some breakfast partner," Ryan said to Fields.
Fields packed up his rifle and slung it over his shoulder as the Army sniper team headed to the pick up point.
"I guess the intel is good huh?" Fields asked rhetorically.
"Yeah, nice to get some good shit for once." They'd been sent out to scope out numerous false reports in the past. It was a good feeling to know that something had gone right and one more insurgent team was out of the fight. Both knew it wouldn't be long before another took its place though.
The team covered the three miles to the pick up point with relative ease. Just as they arrived they could hear the sound of the helicopter echoing through the valleys below them. As soon as they could see it, Fields pulled out a yellow smoke grenade and pulled the pin. "Raptor Two Two, Red Two popping smoke." Ryan called over the radio as his shooter tossed the grenade.
"Eyes on your smoke Red Two, we're coming in," came the reply from the helicopter. Moments later the big Blackhawk swooped in and barely touched down as the sniper team rushed forward and hopped into the crew door. The helicopter was on the ground for less than five seconds before lifting off and heading back to the FOB or forward operating base high in the Afghan mountains.
Ryan watched out the open crew door as the helicopter flew on toward the base. A second helicopter pulled up along side as they approached the landing. A door gunner on the other helicopter waved over, Ryan returned the wave and tried to see who or what was inside. He pulled out his spotting scope and looked over. A broad grin crossed his face and he tapped his shooter on the arm. "Tits!" He yelled over the sound of the helicopter, handing his scope to Fields. Fields had a look and grinned. He forced himself to pull his eye away from the brunette and scanned the rest of the helicopter. "Media," Fields reported as he looked at a man sporting a black flack vest with the word PRESS written across it.
***** Kate Valentine, it was her actual name, pretended not to notice the soldier she was riding with staring at her for the four hundredth time. Under other circumstances it might have been flattering, but what the door gunner didn't know, is that Kate was tired of being noticed for her looks. Hell, she was in that helicopter, in Afghanistan, covering a beat that would normally have gone to a much more seasoned reporter, because of her looks. The network, which had hired her out of her local market in Richmond Virginia at the age of only 26, fast tracked her career and made her a foreign correspondent at only 28. She had been in the green zone in Iraq until the administration finally made good on its promise to mostly close down that front in the war on terror and refocus on Afghanistan. All of this, she had been told, so that she would have credibility when they moved her to an anchor desk or as host of her own news show. The icy stares at the network headquarters of other women who'd been with the network a lot longer made her enjoy her time away from New York and out in the field. Of course it was her time in the field, in choice assignments, that drew those stares in the first place.
Kate wondered what about her at this particular moment was drawing the young private's lustful gaze. She was covered head to toe in a quasi military uniform, including a bullet proof vest, helmet and desert camouflage pants. Under her vest she wore a beige Gortex jacket. Her normally luxurious dark brown hair was in a low hanging pony tail that hadn't seen a good washing in two days. She'd been at a different FOB the day before, and awoke just in time to pack up her stuff and catch this helicopter to the new location.
Kate did like hanging out with the soldiers. Most were very polite, fit as hell, and putting their lives on the line really more for the guy next them rather than any grand military or political objective. But this assignment had grown weary. They could never really tell her anything. It was always the same story. The guys went outside the wire, risked their lives against IEDs and snipers mostly, negotiated with limited permanent success with the locals and then returned to base, only to do it all over again the next day. Anytime the Taliban came out in force, they were quickly squashed, but it seemed like there was no shortage of fanatics eager to die in the cause. Kate decided to be playful and blew her admirer a little kiss that no one but the young soldier seemed to notice. He grinned at her and she felt it between her thighs.
Jeff Hammond, Kate's producer dozed lightly across the cabin from her. He wasn't happy to be on yet another helicopter, on his way to yet another God forsaken corner of the Earth. It was late spring and he was beginning to wonder when he might get home to see, or more correctly, fuck his wife. He would make love to her the second time, but first he wanted to fuck her. A smile crept across his face as he thought of his blonde wife naked on the bed, her legs spread wide, and her pussy waiting for him to climb inside of her and pleasure her from the inside out. In his fantasy, she wasn't wearing a stitch of clothing, except red heels. No one on the helicopter noticed his dick get hard beneath his baggy uniform pants. He scratched his scruffy beard, not because it itched, but because his hand would have went someplace else if he hadn't forced it to his chin.
Her blue eyes stared up at him from the bed, drawing him to her. Her smile never quit and it worked its magic now. In his dreamy state, he could almost hear her telling him to fuck her. Which made him realize it wasn't actually happening; she would never say those words, much as he might want to hear them. He would oblige her; regardless of what words she opted for, guiding his throbbing hard dick into her wet and waiting pussy. The second best moment of sex, Jeff thought, was that moment when you first enter your lover. Her warm wet sex accepting him inside of her making him even hotter than he already is. The second thrust was almost as good, the rest were wonderful but melded into a blur of activity that individually weren't significant, but taken as a whole would bring him to an incredibly satisfying orgasm, the first best part of sex. His wife had long legs, and she wrapped them around his back and pulled him to her when he got too excited and moved too fast. She would hold him deep with in her, beckoning him to lean in and kiss her. She would roll her hips slowly while keeping him close to her with her long tanned legs, little moans of pleasure with every little push. Eventually, she loosens her grip and lets her lover return to his animalistic love making style. It isn't long before his moans become deep and his eyes close. The first best part of sex is only moments away. With a final flurry of thrusts, Jeff releases a stream of hot gooey cum into his lover's pussy. A final moan of delight marks the end of this love making session. In the real world, he makes sure to take care of his wife, in dreamland, only he need cum. In stark contrast to reality, his orgasm woke Jeff up and he quickly glanced around the helicopter trying to determine if anyone knew what he was dreaming about. His secret seemed safe.
***** The helicopters began their decent in to FOB Scimitar. The sky was a grayish white and the temperature was cold at this hour and but was expected to warm up a bit later in the day. The snow had begun to melt as winter turned to spring, but there was still plenty of the white stuff on the mountains. Ryan noticed a goat herder tending the herd below as the helicopters raced overhead. The door gunner had been alerted to his presence by the pilot and had his M240 machine gun trained on the man as they flew by. You never knew who was carrying an RPG launcher around here. The only thing fired at them from the peasant farmer however, was an obscene gesture for scaring the crap out of his goats.
The army pilots routinely landed their helicopters at the mountain base; the FOB was large enough to accommodate not only both of these helicopters, but six other Blackhawks as well as 8 Apache attack helicopters, there was however, no runway for fixed wing aircraft. The predator that had fired the missile against the insurgent truck had come from Kandahar.
Kate and Jeff exited their Blackhawk and found the base Executive Officer, Major Jim Farley waiting for them. He shook each one's hand and attempted to convince them he was happy to have them there. Neither of them believed him, but everyone played their role just the same. The Major was a very stoic officer, his hairline was in full retreat, but everything else about him was up front and direct. He quickly, but politely introduced a Lieutenant he'd brought with him, and instructed the junior officer to take the reporters to their quarters. As soon as his PR duties were complete he caught up to the sniper team walking away from the landing area.
