Center Of Mass: A snipers story.
John waited next to the sniper in the sand, his eye pressed to the Zeiss optic in his hand. Their target was sitting in a beach chair, not a clue about how he was going to be ended for all to see. Several bodyguards surrounded him and John fed the sniper the necessary information to make the shot. His Optics rangefinder had accounted for the wind and gravity imparted on a .30-06 bullet, and given him the firing solution for the sniper. The sniper then silently racked the bolt on the M40A1, and began to apply the 4 pounds of pressure needed to pull the trigger and send the bullet sailing into the Targets heart and lungs, his Center Of Mass. A sharp crack was all the guards heard before a .3 ounce piece of lead slammed into the Targets chest at Mach 1. The Target was thrown out of his chair and into the sand, motionless. After several minutes of watching the guards sweep the area in both fear and desperation, John and the sniper went back from whence they came.
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John rubbed his ears as he and the sniper boarded the chopper. Out here in the desert his fur only served to trap his sweat and cause him to itch all over, and John really envied the Human sniper he had been assigned to. He took a small towel out of the Gut-sack he carried out in the field and rubbed his fur with it in a futile attempt to wipe away the accumulated sweat. He felt the gravity seemingley increase as the chopper lifted off and headed back to Bagaram.
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John lined up another magazine with his A2's mag well, and slammed it home, pulling the charging handle, and closing the dust cover as he had been taught in boot. He switched from 3 round burst to semi, and lined up with the target. "Take a breath, let half out, fire" he thought to himself. A ping, and a dent appeared in the aluminum sillouhettes head. He set his rifle down and prepared for what he knew was coming. A heavy hand hit him across the back of the head.
"I told you a million times, aim for the Center of your targets mass. It's a far bigger target which you'll need out in the field when you only get one shot. Pick that M16 up and give it another go you incompetent hound." the sniper scoloded him. He hated when the sniper did that. His sniper was someone he looked up to, almost like a father figure. And just like when your Father scolds you, it leaves a scar. John picked up his M16 once more and took aim at where the heart would be on a flesh target. Another ping, and another dent. He saw the snipers hand rising, and put his rifle back on safe. The hand fell on his shoulder and began to shake his whole body roughly.
"Maybe, just maybe, we'll make a sniper outta you yet!" the sniper said to John happilly. "Seeya in the Chow line in five, Dumbass." John removed the magazine from his rifle, and ejected the empty shell before slinging the rifle over his shoulder and walking to his bunk before heading to Chow. His rifle stowed he headed to the Mess to get some familiar Texas style Grit. After half an hour of waiting, the sounds of 50 Texas natives chowing down and talking between bites could be heard eminating throughout the Mess hall. Finding his sniper, John walked over to the bench and pulled up a seat.
"Looking like ya got here OK, Hows the Grit?" the sniper asked in his usual downhome Texas accent.
"Pretty good, Better than usual anyways, then again that isn't really much of a compliment to the cook." His comment earning a hearty laugh from his sniper. John took another bite of his grit and looked around the Mess hall, seeing all there was to see, including the Beer Gut forming under the snipers ACU's
"Uhhh... Sir, I thought you said 'To be a sniper you must keep your weight in check so as not to cause any un-necessary noise." The sniper laughed again, thes replied
"Well, if you don't want to do the drunken mile before bed, I suggest you keep your mouth in check."
John knew full well what the Drunken Mile was. 1 mile, drink a beer, repeat until you threw up. John remembered his first drunken mile and laughed, It had been way back in Force Recon sniper school.
"Hey, Dumbass, we're going on a mission tomorrow, no biggie just cover fire, and I want you to get TWO guns prepared, My M40, and the M21."
"But Sir, tw..." John didn't finish his sentence, he realized what was going to happen, His first assignment as a Spotter/Sniper rather than a spotter alone. "Sir, Yes Sir!" he barked as he leaped up from the table in pure joy and ran toward the armory.
'Uhhh, John" the sniper said "Its the other way."
"THANK YOU SIR, you are not going to regret this!" John yelled as he ran past the sniper and towards the armory.
"I should hope not." the sniper said back without looking up and betraying his grin.
John reachedd the armory and punched in his base ID number. The deadbolt lock on the door clicked open and he looked at the far side table to see the M40A1 and his own M21 already cleaned and in their respective cases. Closing the cases and dashing for the door, he slammed the door and re-locked it, and hastily hade his way back to the prep room to place the guns for the following days assignment.
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For those who Don't know, a spotter is a Sniper right hand man, and also a sniper apprentice of sorts. every sniper has at least two years experience spotting.
The Zeiss optic here is actually closer to the Barrett Optical Ranging System (BORS) but i labeled it a Zeiss because their the military's main supplier of Optical equipmwnt.
The M40A3 is a heavily modifies Remington 700 hunting rifle that fires the outstanding .30-06 cartridge.
The M21 is a sharpshooter variant of the M14 battle rifle used during the Korean war.
Grit is a very tasty southern meal that consists of: dried ground corn kernels. While actually not that good alone, they are Eine Lecker Bissen when used in southern recipes.