“HOW MANY UN-FRIENDLIES are guarding the cave?” asked Captain Rick Gossett. Gossett was the leader of this special coalition force searching for enemy supply caches in Northern Afghanistan. His group consisted of four Army rangers, and four JTF2 Canadian Special Forces. They all wore light grey and green BTU’s.
“Two, from what I see,” said Canadian Corporal Tom Williams. The soldier lay on the cold hard ground with a pair of binoculars propped in his hands.
“So, what’s the plan, Cap?” asked Lieutenant Damien Wynter. Wynter was in his late twenties. His cold blue eyes scanned the mountains.
“The plan is that our great sniper, Morgan, is going to shoot those two and we’ll go in for a look see. The rest of you, keep your guns ready. We don’t know who else is lurking around here.”
“If this is a major supply cache, you’d think they’d have more than two guards,” said Lt. Harold “Hap” Pennington, another Canadian soldier seconded to the team.
“You’d think so,” agreed Gossett. “But we’ve been sitting here for two hours scratching our asses, and there’s been nary a sign of anyone other than those two idiots.
“Maybe they don’t think any Coalition soldiers would be stupid enough to be in the region on their own,” said Sergeant Ken Smith.
“Except us,” said Leroy Benson, a black kid from Detroit.
There was a light round of chuckling.
“Okay, Morgan, take the bastards out.”
Morgan was lying on the ground. In his hands he had a C3A1, 7.62mm sniper rifle. It was supported with its attached bipod. He took aim through the scope. A head loomed in view. He paused. Another head came into view. He gently pulled the trigger.
Tom Williams watched the two terrorists come together. One had pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his vest pocket. He gave one to his partner. He leaned towards the other man; his hands busy striking a match. It was then he saw their heads explode. Both men collapsed as if they were marionettes, and someone had just cut their strings.
“Holy Shit!” said Williams,” That was one hell of a shot.”
“That’s why they pay me the big bucks,” laughed Morgan.
“Move out but stay ready. We could still be going in hot,” said Gossett. The men moved swiftly but with caution. The valley floor was littered with stones and a sprained or broken ankle would not be good. They couldn’t radio in for a Medevac.
The cave had a wide, semi-curved entrance about ten feet across and fifteen feet high. A small stonewall had been built as protection for the guards. On the right side near one wall was a small campfire ringed with stones and a couple of burlap bags that contained sacks of rice, bags of flatbread, and some jerky. The second bag contained boxes of ammunition for the AK47’s the guards had.
Gossett turned to Whittaker and Williams. “You two stand guard. Take the vests of the dead guys and put ‘em on. Hunker down behind the wall. From a distance, someone coming might mistake you for their comrades. Morgan, set up a bit further back from the cave and keep an eye out.”
Morgan nodded and moved into the shadows.