“Hostile vehicle moving to desired location,” Ryan heard his spotter and put his handheld bible back into his shirt pocket. Ryan’s face was smeared with camouflage paint, and his rifle was covered in a rifle wrap, with his Ghillie suit covering the rest of his body. “Two Charlie’s coming out of the truck,” the spotter was stating as he looked into his binoculars. “Looks like they are going to harass these innocent Southern Vietnam villagers . . . hold on . . . I think I have spotted the target.”
“Confirm it.” Ryan said in a commanding whisper.
“Yep, Trang Pham, target confirmed.”
“Call him out,”
“Target,” Ryan put the butt his rifle into his shoulder, and stared down his scope, “Sector bravo, officer next the vehicle with the belt-fed weapon, wind four quarter value, push three left,”
“Range it”
“500 meters”
“Hold scope . . . Fire when ready”
Ryan looked down his scope at his target ‘Long target’ he thought to himself. Ryan saw the target and waited to get a clear shot, two soldiers were blocking him, until Trang Pham came into view. The sniper began to steady his breathing. Trang grabbed a Vietnamese women talking to her, she tried to get away from him. ‘I gotta nail this guy before things get ugly real fast.’ Ryan held his breath. He put his finger on the trigger and slowly began to pull it back to him. The shot surprised him a little.
His spotter whispered to him, “Hit, target down” it was like a whispering wind as he said it. So silent. ‘Damn, I got the best spotter in the whole army’ Ryan thought to himself, and gave that devilish grin of his. Ryan chuckled a bit. The Vietcong were like panic stricken deer, running about, fleeing from the danger of Ryan and his spotter. The sniper and his spotter were the hunters; the Vietcong were the horrified game, as they watched their superior officer fall to the ground, with blood draining from the exit wound in the back of his skull. They began blindly firing their Kalashnikov’s (AK-47’s) into the densely thick jungle. ‘CLINK’
“S***,” Ryan stated. A mortar round exploded at their 6’oclock position (behind them); “Their firing mortars at us.”
Ryan regained his focus, and put his M1903 Springfield rifle at his shoulder, and looked down the scope. “Target,” he said, while trying to avoid indirect small arms fire.
“Sector delta, 3’o’clock in the rice patty field, wind 3 quarter value, push two left, range 600 yards, hold scope. . .fire when ready”
Ryan’s M40 echoed across the jungle.
“Hit” said Ryan’s spotter, the Vietcong soldier dropped to the ground on his knees and collapsed face first into the rice patty field.
“We’ve got to go; we don’t have enough time or enough ammo for this,” Ryan yelled.
“But, they don’t know our position”, a mortar shell exploded not even a hundred feet in front of the Snipers position, flinging dirt and plant debris into the air around them.
“Well they might get a lucky shot on us.” Ryan yelled over the sound of small arms fire and the exploding shells near them. “Come’ on we’ve got to go now, I’ve arranged a chopper evac for us, four clicks away from here.” Ryan grabbed his spotter by the arm and yanked him off the soft earth. The sniper and his spotter were running with their Ghillie suits through the hot and humid jungle of South Vietnam. They ran through the huge leafy foliage knocking it out of the way as they fled the panicked Vietcong, until they came to a small river.
“This seems like a good spot to hide for a few minutes, their far behind.” Ryan sat on a rounded boulder and put his back to the naturally formed rock wall behind him. He took off the headpiece of his Ghillie and swatted the mosquitoes away from his sweating face. Ryan calmed and listened to the crashing sound of the little waterfall to his left and listened to the birds chirping above in the trees. His spotter rested near a little tree a few feet in front of him. He started to drift onto a cloud of his own when the sound of propeller blades awoke him, “What the?” Ryan hopped off the boulder, and looked up to see if the helicopter was theirs or the Vietcong’s. He started to lower himself just in case. “Damn it to hell, I said a night evac not a day evac, now every Charlie in a mile radius will know are position,” Ryan was swelling with anger and fear for the life of him and his spotter, “spotter get up we got to move, the Heli’s here.” The two ran towards the landed helicopter. Ryan climbed aboard with his spotter behind him.

“Come’ on spotter, hurry up they know where we are . . .” He looked into the tree line to spot a rifle muzzle sticking out of the trees. “John get down!” His spotter turned around and saw the sniper and hit the ground flat on his stomach. The bullet missed the spotter and hit the gunner of the helicopter in the head. Ryan had seen this before; he has seen every life he has taken now he was starting to regret the lives he had taken. ‘Who were they? What would’ve happened if they didn’t join the army? Did he have a wife and kids?’ Ryan shook his head to get the thoughts out of his head. The gunner fell on the floor of the helicopter, with blood draining out of his skull like a waterfall. To him everything was in slow motion. Ryan heard his spotter call to him, he turned and saw him try and get up. The muzzle flashed one more time, this time his spotter went down. He was screaming in pain. John was hit in the leg. Ryan jumped off the helicopter and landed on the jungle ground and ran to help his spotter. “Leave him, we have got to go Ryan!” the pilot stated in fear. “Army ethos ‘I will never leave a fallen comrade’ ” Ryan turned back to his spotter and then he saw the sniper and he rushed the enemy sniper, knife drawn screaming like a banshee. The enemy sniper fired constantly, to try and hit him but kept missing but it was too late. Ryan jumped upon him and tackled him to the ground. The two snipers struggled to get control of the knife. Ryan flipped the Vietcong sniper over and jabbed his knife into his heart. The knife sliced into his flesh like a shovel digging into the soft, moist soil. Ryan saw the other sniper’s hand reach to him as he drew his last breath. Then the sniper’s hand went down to the ground and a puddle of blood was pouring out of his chest. He looked at the sniper and then himself, shaking uncontrollably the knife fell out of his hand. He realized what he had done. He got off of him, and stood over him. He looked at his hands; they were covered in blood . . . the blood of another man. Ryan sat on the ground looking at the sniper and his knife, then he remembered his spotter, he then said a prayer for the sniper and the officer that they may rest in peace. He turned and looked at the helicopter and started walking, and he glanced back another time at the sniper. Then he started to jog back to his spotter and lifted him off the ground and carried him on his back to the helicopter. He sat by his spotter in the helicopter “You’re going to be okay my friend.” Ryan said, he grinned.
“I thought you were going to leave me behind.” His spotter chuckled.
“Not a chance pal, I never leave a fallen comrade behind.” The two smiled happily at each other. Ryan watched as the helicopter started soaring above the tree line getting higher and higher, as it moved farther and farther away. He remembered the lives he had taken and started to shed a tear.
“Ryan, you okay?” his spotter asked him with sensitivity.
“What? Oh yeah I’m ok.” He lied. Ryan rested his head on the helicopters hard metal floor and remembered the shot he took earlier today. He remembered the Officer, the sniper and the gunner. Never was he that close to seeing a sniper shot. It was devastating to watch. The red burst out, then the cold, lifeless eyes. The eyes had life in them once, but now they had none, like life never existed in them. But, he knew he saved his spotter and was going home safely. Suddenly, something awoke him.