Jack and Jill: Army
Page 23
Chapter 11
Sniper Competition: Day Two
Jill was getting the morning weather report while Jack was drinking his first cup of coffee at an empty table in the mess hall. He saw the two Navy SEAL snipers walking up to him.
“How is the girl’s team doing today? We made you some special targets for today’s competition.” One of the snipers pulled several stiff pieces of paper from behind his back and handed them to Jack. Jack took them, turned them over and unfolded them. They were paper dolls.
“You guys are funny, really funny. Why don’t you take your show on the road before my partner comes back and kicks your butt from here to the infirmary?”
“She probably could. You probably could, too, if your partner helped you,” said one of the SEALs.
That was all that Jack could take. He slammed his coffee cup down on the table. The coffee sloshed out of the cup and covered the table. He jumped to his feet and took a half step toward the two SEALs. In a quiet, but firm voice, Jack spoke, “I said take your show on the road.”
The two SEALs looked at each other, shrugged their shoulders, and walked off.
Just then, Jill walked through the door. She walked straight to Jack’s table and saw the spilt coffee and the paper dolls. “What’s going on, Savage?”
“Some of our fans stopped by to say hello.”
There was a long pause. “What’s the weather forecast, ma’am?”
“Slight breeze, sunny, but hot.” Jill looked at the dolls, and then looked at Jack.
“Ma’am, let’s get in line for breakfast. We’re going to need a lot of calories for today’s competition.”
After breakfast, Jill and Jack went to the shooting range and checked the roster for the big shoot.
“We’re in the last round today,” said Jack.
“Yes, but only because we are in first place in the competition,” replied Jill.
“So, it’s time to hurry up and wait?”
“Yup.”
“Let’s set our gear down behind the other snipers so we can watch them and do some recon.”
“Good thinking, Savage.”
They set down on the grass under a shady tree to watch the others.
“Today will be the tough one,” said Jack.
“Yes, the pressure is on and I am starting to feel it.” Jill paused. “I heard rumors that the target is twelve hundred yards away.”
“At twelve hundred yards, the bullet is going to drop a lot,” Jack said.
“Probably thirty feet.”
“Thirty-one feet, five inches.”
“You have it all memorized?” Jill said.
“All of the critical distances, and then a few others. It is better to have it ready so I don’t have to do any calculations when I am shooting fast.”
“So the rumors are true?” Jill said.
“What rumors?”
“You are the best of the best.”
“Oh, that. Well . . . I suppose.” Jack couldn’t hold back a smile.
“I’m glad we’re working together,” Jill said.
Jack watched the range coordinator call out sniper names in pairs, and then hand them a map with the coordinates for both the shooting location and target location. He watched the snipers to see their reactions when they saw the distance from the shooting location to the target location. Jack hoped that they would look frantic. That would mean it was a long shot that would press their limits. With his 50-cal and years of experience he knew that he could make a one-thousand-yard shot with few problems. His confidence was growing as he watched the expression on the snipers’ faces.
Jack waited a long time as each pair of snipers was called. The shade protected him from the sun, but the rising temperature made him sweat. Finally, at midday, it was their turn. The range coordinator called out, “Jacobson and Savage, you’re next.”
Jack grabbed Jill’s pack and helped her get it high enough to put her arms through the shoulder straps. Jack grabbed his 50-cal and they jogged fifty feet to the starting line.
“Here is your map,” said the range coordinator. He pointed to a spot marked on the map as he handed it to them. “This is the location that you will shoot from. The target is due north from that location. It is a circular red target, one meter in diameter. You must spot the target, and determine the distance to it. Then you will get one shot. Either you hit it, or you don’t. You realize, since you have the best score so far, if you hit the one-meter target, you win the competition. If you miss, and someone else hits it, then you lose. Do you understand?”
Jill and Jack both nodded. The range coordinator looked at his stopwatch and said, “You will start in sixty seconds from . . . now!”
Jill and Jack both scrutinized the map for the best path to the shooting location. They quickly agreed that the long way, through the valley, was best. They had only fifty minutes, but if they ran hard they could make it in time.
The range coordinator said, “You can start in five, four, three, two, one, go!”
Jack began jogging with Jill close behind. He jogged at a comfortable rate so his energy would last for the duration of the jog. His 50-cal slowed him down, but he knew they needed to hustle. He wanted at least five minutes at the shooting location to set up, check the winds, measure the distance to the target, and most important . . . catch his breath. Jack needed to have his breathing and pulse under control for this long shot. It just wasn’t possible to hit a target twelve hundred yards away if he was breathing hard and his heart was pounding.