Delta Three Six Alpha

“Now what?” I grunted to Wave. “He’s dead, and if we go back for him, so are we.”

Wave turned slowly to me, and looked directly into my eyes. His seemed to be made of stone, hardened by the things he’d seen in the war zone. “Clover, you know our policy. No-one gets left behind. Ever.” It was more than a policy, it was the squadron’s motto. Haud unus est relictus - No-one is left behind. Even if it meant death. The soldiers had to be sure their comrades cared enough to try and save them, no matter the cost. It was genius really - it built trust and comradeship.

“We have to go get him…” murmured Venom. “Or the dishonour will haunt us for the rest of our lives. We’ll never forget that we left one of our own to be tortured and killed. Not to mention we’ll probably be whipped for insubordination.” I turned to him, a little surprised despite myself. He was not known to speak often, and when he did, it was not to be compassionate. I felt guilty too - we were like brothers out here, and I'd half-insinuated we leave a brother behind. I felt a little disgusted with myself, but there was no time to dwell on that now.

“He’s right.” I grunted. There was a murmur of consent from the group. “But how do we do it? Normally I’d just say throw a grenade and blow the whole place, but Hypo’s in there. We can’t just kill him, it’ll defeat the whole object.”

“Tell you what,” said Wave, taking command of the situation as always. “Who has a silencer?”

“Me.” I grunted, as the only one with a sniper rifle. It was my preferred weapon, even at close range, like I’d known this operation would be. There was just something deeply reassuring about knowing that one shot would take your man down pretty much regardless of where you hit him.

“Alright, Clover. So guys,” he replied, before quickly addressing everyone once more, “this is what we’re going to do. Venom, you’re coming with me, and we’ll cover their left side. Squirrel, Brush, you go to the right and flank them from there. Clover, you stay here, get the fuck down and just take out as many as you can with the sniper rifle, but whatever you do, DON’T GET SEEN.” He hissed insistently. “Take out as many as you can around the perimeter without them noticing, and when they do notice, the four of us” he nodded around at everyone else “will start shooting. Wait for me to radio you all in before that starts. And when it does,” he turned to me again, “move and carry on sniping, but make sure you’re not seen, or you’re dead, and for the love of Jesus, don’t shoot us. If this is going to work, you need to be as lucky to us as a fucking four-leaf. Understand?” It was not a joke, but an analogy to emphasise the importance of my role. I did not speak, but nodded tersely, already focusing.

“Then let’s move.” Four silhouettes scrambled across the open grassland, then disappeared into the woodland flanking the base. I dropped to the floor, slowly moving my rifle to my well-practised hands.

The night was utterly silent, save for the sound of the wind. Just the same as…

A silent night. Me, a happy baby, gurgling as I played with my new train set. It was my first birthday, or so I had been told.

“STOP.” I told myself in my head, firmly.

A knock, at the door. Hurried footsteps. Raised voices.

“CLOVER! SNAP THE HELL OUT OF IT!” I cursed to myself.

A gunshot. My beloved mother fell to the floor in front of my bedroom door, eyes wide, blood pouring from her neck. She was staring directly at me. Staring. Never blinking as the pool of blood thickened. A stare that would haunt me for the rest of my life.

“CLOVER! What the fuck are you doing, you’re gonna get us killed if you dawdle much longer!” Wave’s snarled whisper startled me out of my stupor. “Hurry the fuck up!”

I didn’t waste any more time replying; it would be senseless. Hurriedly looking down the scope at the base, I noticed three patrols coming directly into line with the scope at the same time. Excellent, that would do nicely.

But… I was hesitant. These were three lives I was about to extinguish as if they were nothing.

Just like my mother‘s had been, mercilessly shot, dead before my eyes.

But it was duty. For queen and country. For freedom. For democracy. Or at least, that’s what we were told. That was to deliberate after the fighting. For now? It was orders.

I waited… Waited until the men came perfectly into place. Held my breath.

Pulled the trigger, and initiated the bloodshed.

“MOVE, MOVE!” shouted Wave over our personal radios. This was no time for correct radio operation procedure or phonetics.

The next few moments were a complete blur. Move, shoot, move. That was all there was time for. No time to debate the morals of what I, Wave, Squirrel, Brush and Venom were doing. Besides, they had Hypo! Killing because it was that or be killed.

It only lasted a few seconds, before the others cornered the central camp, where they surely had Hypo prisoner. I heard Wave bark something about releasing Hypo or we’d open fire. Slowly, the front opened…

And the last insurgent came out, a hunting knife tight to Hypo’s neck. The bastard. The message was evident - “Try anything, and I’ll kill him. And the guilt will haunt you forever.” He babbled a little, in a language even Wave at his distance couldn’t understand, much less me.

A crackle into my radio. Venom’s voice, rugged, haggard, out of breath, faint as a whisper. “Clover… This one’s up to you.” As if to concur, Brush shifted slightly, to give me a line to the target. I dropped to the floor to get a more stable line and stance. This shot was dangerous. Very dangerous.

Two hundred meters, give or take. The wind was gusting - I’d have to account for that, not to mention every other marksmanship principle in the book, to get this right. If I got this a centimeter wrong, I’d shoot Hypo as well as the target, and that was not good enough.

Focus. Get a natural stance. Elongate as much as possible, so the shockwave doesn‘t shake the rifle and make the bullet go off-course. Look down the scope. Relax. Tensing only makes you wobble more, you know that. Aim off, for the wind. Breathe… Deeper…

I squeezed the trigger a little. To the point where any more pressure would send the huge, 17.7 mm wide, 7 cm long bullet out of the barrel and along at 300 MPH to the target’s head… Or to Hypo’s, if I got it wrong.

I held my breath, to steady that little bit more. I squeezed the trigger.