John Ringo: Kildar

He’d also figured out who Breslav probably was but he was leaving him for last. He wanted the Chechens to pursue aggressively and he figured they’d need leadership to do that. The snipers intended to take out the mortarmen, especially the team leaders, and as many of the mules as they could before moving out.

“Lasko, keep an eye on the targets and call,” Mike said. “If either one of us goes down, you take over.”

“Got it,” the Keldara said, quietly.

Mike lined up one of the mortar team leaders and carefully stroked the trigger.

The 7mm round took about a second and a half to cover the distance, by which time Mike had switched targets to the mule the team was loading and Praz had engaged the other team leader.

“Kildar left and up,” Lasko murmured. “Mortarman in cover behind a log. Praz, left, down, bucking mule. Kill, for Kildar, right and down, mule. Kill for Praz, left and up, mortarman.”

The two snipers steadily worked the camp as it exploded in activity.

“Kildar, Praz, down and right, team trying to get mortar up,” Lasko said. “Track right, team attempting to get mortar up.”

“What’s the rest of the group doing?” Mike asked.

“One group, about twenty, is working over to the left,” Lasko said. “Track left, machine-gunner setting up.”

Mike tracked left and spotted the team with the assistant gunner just closing the top on the machine gun. The gunner was tracking back and forth, looking for the snipers that were engaging from the hilltop but clearly unable to find them. Mike lined up on his prone body and watched through the scope as the gunner’s head exploded. The assistant gunner tried to get the machine gun in action but Praz took him out with a shot to the body.

“Track right,” Lasko said. “They’re still trying to get the mortars in action.”

Mike looked at the mortar team, which was surrounded by dead bodies, and shook his head.

“Stupid brave,” he said. They should have moved the mortars out of the open area. He ignored the crew that was slewing the mortar their way and shot the sight away, killing the gunner in the process. Then he hit the AG just as he was lifting one of the rounds into the tube. The round dropped and headed downrange, but it landed well to their right and short, far enough away that the explosion of the round was muffled by the trees.

“Fuck this,” Praz muttered. Shortly afterwards the ready box of ammunition by “his” mortar exploded, sending shrapnel all over the camp, knocking the mortar over and killing most of the crew.

“Good point,” Mike said, lining up the box that the crew had set out by the mortar. There was another box under it for good measure and both were laid far too close to the weapon itself. He put two rounds into the boxes, as the shaken crew was just getting to its feet, before the box finally went up at the third hit.

“Time to boogie,” Mike said, sliding backwards out of the hide.

They’d sent most of their gear with Killjoy and Otar so the packs were light. They tossed them on and headed down the cut trail towards the valley.

Mike paused at one point and took up a position by a rock, well in sight of the Chechens. They were starting to get their act together and he wanted none of that. He doffed the ghillie suit and leaned against a boulder, in full view of the group in the distance. He knew he wasn’t much of a figure to pick out but it was possible.

“Lasko,” Mike said, “can you see Breslav?”

Lasko tracked around the camp with the spotting scope and then paused.

“Upper right quadrant,” Lasko said. “South of the stream. Talking with someone.”

“Got it,” Mike said. He lased the two men and got a range of twelve hundred meters, tough downhill and with a crosswind. He carefully lined up the man Breslav was talking to and engaged. He had to time the shot between heart pumps since his heart rate was way up.

“Target. Kill,” Lasko murmured. “Breslav has gone to ground behind the tree trunk.”

Mike shot the tree a couple of times just to make his point.

“We’ve got company coming up the hill,” Praz said.

“Good,” Mike replied.

“They’re engaging,” Praz pointed out.

Mike couldn’t hear any bullets nearby, which was fine by him. But he did see an RPG land short of their position and heard a following crack from Praz’s rifle.

“Got the RPG,” Praz said.

“Let’s go,” Mike replied. “They know where we are at least.”

“They’re following,” Praz said as they headed down the hill.

“Good,” Mike replied. “Anybody see the main group?”

“Negative,” Praz said as they scrambled down the hill. When they hit the flats they were going to be in the open, fair targets for the pursuing Chechens.

“Oleg, Oleg, this is Kildar, over,” Mike panted into his mike.

“Kildar, this is Team Oleg, over,” Adams replied.

“We’re being pursued by two groups of Chechens,” Mike said as they hit the bottom of the hill and crossed the small stream there. “One group is on our hill and in direct pursuit. The main body should be behind them. We’ll try to engage from the far tree line and get the two to close up. The mortars might or might not have been taken out. One is definitely down, the other is a possible.”

“Roger,” Adams said. “We’re in position.”

“Don’t let Vil move, yet,” Mike said. “We need to have both groups across the valley before he moves.”

“We’ve got a good view of the valley,” Adams said. “You’re in view. Speaking of which, so are the guys behind you.”

They were crossing a plowed field with a hint of green showing on it. The farmer was out of his house, plowing in another field. When he saw the camouflage-covered men burst from the trees he dropped the traces of the plow and began running for his house. But not as fast as Mike, Praz and Lasko were running.

“I am… getting tired,” Lasko grunted.

“Gimme your pack and weapon,” Mike said, dropping back and pulling the pack off.

“I can… make it…” the Keldara replied, struggling to hold onto the pack.

“Fuck that,” Mike said, snatching the pack off the older man’s back. “I’m younger and in much better shape for this. Praz, how you doing?”

“I’m going to die tired,” Praz grunted but kept moving.

“Kildar, be aware, the pursuing group is in view of you,” Adams said.

Mike heard a round crack overhead but they were most of the way across the valley, at least three hundred meters away, and muj shooting was notoriously bad. All they had to do was make it to the tree line.

“Fuck,” Praz grunted, stumbling to his knees and then back up. “Took one in the body armor.”

“You okay?” Mike asked as he slithered down the bank of the main valley stream. It was wide and shallow, easily fordable, instead of the mountain torrent they had crossed on the hillside. For that matter, it offered a moment’s cover but they couldn’t stay there.

“Fine,” the sniper said, shaking his head. “Let’s go.”

They scrambled up out of the stream with rounds cracking around them and darted across the last open area to the woodline, reaching that concealment without anyone getting hit again.

“Spread out,” Mike said, handing Lasko his gear and moving to the east. “We’re going to have to shoot and move towards the trail.” He dropped behind the stump of a fallen tree and started searching for targets. The Chechen force had moved out into the valley and was running towards them but they were more than four hundred meters back.

He lined up one guy who was gesticulating and pushing some of the laggards, taking him down. He jacked another round into the Mannlicher and shot the next guy in view.