The Long Wait

Here I lie, prone in the dry long grass. Grass seared yellow from weeks of drought. My slouch hat pulled well down to shield against the sun. The gun barrel matt black with smoke from a burnt candle, to avoid giving off any warning glare. I have been here for two hours now, just waiting. Waiting for that moment when the cross hairs will register on the target.

They always come, every day, but never at the same time. Cautious,that`s what they are. Have lost too many to the snipers bullet.

Its approaching noon. the sun is climbing, burning my back. Sweat breaks out, beading my forhead, attracting the flies. Dratted things are distracting me from the main objective. A lone ant walks along the gun barrel. I watch him abstractly, wondering what he makes of this strange, inanimate object. As long as he does not divert his attention to my anatomy I don`t mind. He is a diversion in this eternity of waiting.

Strange how the mind plays tricks. I swore there was an armoured column approaching. It just turned out to be a sand devil whirling his way across the dusty, dry terrain.

I check my rounds again out of sheer boredom. High velocity rounds, no sinkage. What the cross hairs register, that`s where the hit will be. Well within the sell-by date. No fear of having a hang-fire or a slow burner on this critical mission. There`s only the chance of getting one shot in, and away, before a barrage of mortar fire blasts me into eternity. No windage to worry about today. There is hardly a breath of wind stirring. That sand devil was the last of the pre midday breeze.

The sun is already past its zenith. Hunger pangs set in. They are late today. Too cautious, makes me feel uneasy.

I am well outside our base perimiter, I can see the chain-link fencing and the numerous patched holes in it where infiltrators have made ingress before, to carry out thir dastardly work. No use posting sentries inside the wire, They just get their throats cut, silently.

Movement at last. A lone figure this time. Disappearing behind rocks and dunes wherever possible. But always approaching nearer, nearer. My palms are sweaty. I lock in on the figure. My scope shows its one of their women! A woman for Pete`s sake, what will they try next? I hesitate for just a momnt. Woman or no woman, she would have no hesitation if our roles were reversed. My cheek is firmly against the stock. I control my breathing and squeeze gently. Absorb the recoil and slink carefully backwards.