Last Stand: Turning the Tide (Book 4) by William H. Weber

Author:William H. Weber [Weber, William H.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Literature & Fiction, Action & Adventure, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Science Fiction, Post-Apocalyptic
Amazon: B00VGF2DNK
Publisher: Alamo
Published: 2015-05-20T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 31

“You push that horse any harder,” Reese told John, “and it’s liable to keel over.”

John glanced down and saw his horse breathing hard and pulled back on the reins. Getting there a tad bit later was better than not getting there at all. Besides, John would make do by going over the battle plan in his head one more time.

Reese pulled up alongside him, bouncing in his saddle. On the left collar of the sniper’s fatigues was a white feather.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you about that,” John said, pointing.

Reese glanced down. “It’s my Carlos Hathcock.”

“Your what?”

“One of the greatest snipers our country’s ever produced. Used to wear a white feather in the band of his hat. Was his trademark. Grew up a country boy from Arkansas shooting small game and went on to rack up ninety-three confirmed kills in Vietnam.”

John agreed that was an impressive number.

“You might not know this,” Reese went on, fishing one of his horrible-smelling cigarettes out of a squished pack, “but during that war, kills could only be confirmed by an officer. That is, someone other than the sniper’s spotter. Guess it was designed to stop hotshots from padding their stats. Anyway, Hathcock swore that ninety-three was far too low. Said the real number was somewhere in the neighborhood of three to four hundred enemies killed.”

John’s eyebrows rose.

“That’s right. Commies even put a thirty-thousand-dollar bounty on his head. And you can imagine with a contract like that, the Viet Cong and NVA snipers were pouring in from the north intent on getting a hold of that feather.”

“Did they get him?”

“Oh, they tried,” Reese said with a smile. “Closest they got was a mysterious sniper who went by the code name Cobra. He’d already killed a bunch of Marines in an effort to draw Hathcock out. For several days the two enemies stalked one another. Both of them made narrow escapes as one would close in on the other. Then one day, Hathcock found some disturbed brush and spotted a trail through an open field. He set himself up with his back to the sun.”

“To keep the light out of his eyes,” John said. “Smart man.”

“Not only that, but in those days they still had scopes that reflected shards of sunlight. After scanning for a few minutes, Hathcock spotted a twinkle in the bush, swung his rifle around and fired right at it. When they crossed over they found the Cobra dead. Shot through the lens of his own scope.”

“No way.”

“No joke. A one-in-a-million shot that meant the Cobra had them in his sights. If Hathcock had waited a split second longer, he might have been the one dead.” Reese touched the white feather pin on his collar. “Since I heard that story, I’ve always carried this with me. Call it a good-luck charm.”

John turned back to the trail, praying Reese’s luck would help get them there in time.

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