Recoil

2

The band of dull light thickened on the horizon ahead of us. It wouldn’t be long before the sun began to turn the eastern sky blue and work its way towards us.

All three guns were loaded and ready to go, the spare in the middle. If either of us had a stoppage, we could still keep the rounds going. When the barrel of the malfunctioning gun had cooled, we could deal with it.

Muzzle flashes sparked up on both sides of the valley entrance. No longer drowned by last night’s storm, the sound of their wild bursts of auto echoed around the hillside.

Sam got his gun into the shoulder. ‘Here we go.’

Whether he was speaking to me or himself, I had no idea.

They were probing us, trying to get us to return fire and give away our positions in the first-light gloom.

We held back and watched as the eight or so flashes inched slowly but surely into our killing ground.

Four hundred metres away, and closing.

They moved, fired, and moved again, deeper into the valley. I began to see movement along with the flashes, then shapes became more distinct. Nearly every one was small.

They kept firing, kept looking for that response. Rounds from an uncontrolled burst thudded into the ground in front of us. I gave Sam a glance. He shook his head. We’d keep our position covert until we absolutely had to go noisy. Sam would give the order; it was his call.