Sniper Ridge

Chapter Eighteen

Chen had been in position since before dawn, making his way into the Chinese line in the darkness. By now he knew this route by memory because he had passed down this path so many times before. The weather was still warm enough to wear the soft-soled shoes that he preferred, and this enabled him to move almost silently in the gray pre-dawn light.

He felt like a true soldier, moving with the stealth of a lion, just as his fellow Chinese warriors had done for centuries. Instead of a spear, he carried a rifle.

Every soldier and peasant knew that it was best to go quietly in the dark, rather than awaken the enemies and predators that lurked in the night.

The quiet moment was broken only by a grunt and the sound of stumbling footsteps, reminding him that he was not alone. Once again, accompanying him this morning was Major Wu.

Chen paused and asked, "Are you all right, sir?"

"Fine, fine," Wu said, ending with a chuckle. "Not all of us have your eagle eyes, you know."

Wu had traveled even lighter than usual, not even bothering with a rifle. Instead, he wore a holster on his belt. A pair of binoculars was slung around his neck. He had brought along a small rucksack with some cold rice and dried fish, which he shared with Chen when they paused on their hike up Sniper Ridge.

"We cannot have our sniper going hungry," Wu said. “Dried fish for you. Only the best!”

Chen ate, cognizant of the fact that the food, though barely more than peasant fare, was far better than what any of the troops were eating this morning.

The major had also brought along a bottle of rice wine, but Chen took only a few measured sips just to chase away the morning chill and wash down the food. He would have preferred tea.

Wu drank enough for both of them.

Even in the dim light, Chen could see that characteristically, Wu had worn his political officer's uniform that looked so out of place in the outdoorsy surroundings, like he was headed for a dress parade. Not for the first time, Chen was reminded of a barnyard peacock, right down to Wu's noisy strut down the path — when he was not stumbling over his own two feet and making enough noise for a company of water buffalo.

They moved into position as the light slowly grew over the eastern hills, illuminating the landscape before them. The scenery was steep and forbidding, but by now, the harsh hills and mountains surrounding them seemed like old friends.

Chen studied the defenses nearby, then the valley before them, and finally the hilltop opposite them where the American and UN troops awaited dawn while crouched in their own defenses. Of course, Chen couldn't actually see the enemy soldiers, but he sensed that they were there.

As the light grew, one of the enemy soldiers grew careless, heaving himself out of a foxhole and walking along the ridge toward another position. He didn't seem to be in any particular hurry or sense that he was in grave danger. Normally, he would have been fine. He was too distant for the Chinese soldiers to be any threat. What the soldier had not counted on was Chen's presence.

Chen followed the soldier in his telescopic sight, leading him slightly, before pulling the trigger and putting an end to him. One moment the man was living; the next he was not.

A lesson for us all, Chen thought. He slid the bolt back and forth, readying another round.

Wu grunted in approval. He watched nearby through the binoculars. "The first one of the day," he said, then paused to raise the bottle it in a toast. He seemed intent on drinking most of the bottle during the course of the morning. "Here's to many more."

Activity on the other side had slowed, however, because word had gotten out about the sniper. In any case, that was Chen's suspicion. Even the Americans were fools only to a point.

He was curious about the fact that an American sniper had opposed him yesterday. He had gotten lucky with a shot that he thought had hit the enemy sniper's spotter. Someone over there had the same job that Wu had on this side.

Even if Chen had not killed the spotter, then he had certainly wounded him. However, he was sure that the enemy sniper had gone unscathed. Some of the enemy's shots had struck close to his own position, which gave Chen pause.

First of all, it was a very long distance to shoot so accurately. He felt challenged by the distance. Somehow, the enemy sniper was able to shoot almost as well. Although he had been guessing at Chen's position, he had come unerringly close

The problem for both snipers was that neither man could see the other. Both of them were so well buried into their sniper's nests that there was very little chance of either man presenting himself as a target to the other one. The other man's spotter had made the mistake of letting himself be seen by Chen. Just a glimpse, but it had been enough.

Chen had the unpatriotic thought that perhaps he could rid himself of Wu in much the same way if the opportunity presented itself. He had already lost one spotter at the Chosin Reservoir, but losing Wu was something of a double-edged sword, however. As pushy as Wu could be, he had also become Chen's champion. Who would save him a place at the fire, if not Wu?

"Please keep your head down, sir," Chen said.

"Surely, none of them can shoot that far." Wu laughed, then seemed to reconsider and did what Chen suggested, keeping his head down. "Then again, maybe they can. You would know best."

But as it grew lighter, Major Wu sipped his wine and seemed to grow bored.

"What are you waiting for?" Wu asked. "Go ahead and shoot a few more of them. We must strike fear into the hearts of the imperialists as always. Sitting here quietly achieves nothing."

Glancing over at the commissar, he saw that Wu wore a grin on his face, but Chen knew better than to mistake that smile for lightheartedness. No, Major Wu was deadly serious.

"For too long, the Chinese have been victimized by the imperialist nations," Wu said. "Now, Chinese warriors are on the move again to reclaim the respect that has been lost. We will push these invaders back into the sea."

Chen himself would have liked nothing better, and he silently agreed that Wu was right on several counts. The Chinese had a proud and rich heritage, but their culture in the previous two centuries had not kept pace with the innovations of the west. This insularity had put them at a disadvantage that enabled the western nations to exploit the Chinese. After the war had upset the world order, the trend of exploitation had finally come to an end with the rise of Chairman Mao and Chinese communism. This was a new way forward for their nation and people.

"The enemy is weak," Chen agreed.

"Never forget what we have lost and endured," Wu said. "Never forget that there is only one way forward for our people."

It was quite a speech, and wasted on Chen, who was a man of simple beliefs. In his mind, the enemy soldiers were like wild dogs trying to snatch away whatever scraps they could. Perhaps the major had spoken those words for his own benefit, rather than Chen's. Maybe it was the rice wine talking.

"Never benefit oneself; only benefit others," Chen said, repeating a popular Communist Chinese slogan that had been drummed into him, only because the speech seemed to warrant some acknowledgment.

"Good, good, very good. Come, Comrade Sniper," Wu said, grinning. "Carve out your place in history."

"If you see any targets, please let me know, Comrade Major," Chen said, pointedly. After all, it was Wu's job to be the spotter. Pretty speeches were not enough.

"You are right, of course," Wu agreed, making one of his amused chuckles, and brought the binoculars to his eyes. He scanned the American lines looking for any sign of movement.

Half an hour went by before Wu snapped, "There on the right!"

Chen swung the rifle in that direction, although swung wasn't the right definition. It was more that he adjusted the rifle a fraction until he saw the American soldier in his crosshairs.

The man had foolishly put his head above the rim of his foxhole. He was much too far away for Chen to see his face, much less read his facial expression, but he seemed to be staring out into the promise of the day. For him, the day would be short-lived.

Chen's finger took up tension on the trigger until the rifle bucked against his shoulder and hundreds of feet in the distance, the soldier crumpled into his foxhole.

Chen tensed, wondering if there would be an answering shot. If the American sniper was in his trench on the opposite side, then he would now know that Chen was plying his own trade and the other man would be hunting for him, just as Chen was now doing.

More time passed; the sun grew higher. Chen had a peasant's natural affinity for the weather and the sun was a welcome relief from the gloom that they had experienced for several days on end. Briefly, he took his face away from the rifle and turned it toward the sun. The sun even held a bit of warmth as if it had kept something back from the summer, but wanted to use it all up before winter arrived.

Overhead, the enemy planes soared and occasionally dropped their bombs and napalm on more distant sections of the ridge or more remote hills. So far, the American planes had not come close to where Chen and Wu lay hidden.

"I see something," Wu said after awhile. "It is a helmet."

Through the scope, Chen spotted the helmet, just visible over the rim of the trench. Frustratingly, a face did not reveal itself beneath the helmet. The helmet bobbed a bit in the way that a fisherman jiggles the bait.

"A trick," Chen said.

He looked more closely. What was that? He stared into the scope. Although the distance was great, he could see some sort of mark on the front of the helmet. He felt a mental flicker of recognition. Even at this distance, he thought that it might be the flag that decorated the American sniper's helmet. The sniper that he had faced before. In spite of himself, Chen's breath quickened.

He had no doubt now that this was the sniper that he had dueled with yesterday. To his surprise, it even seemed to be the same location. This seemed to be arrogance on the enemy sniper's part — or perhaps foolishness.

"Are you going to fire?" Wu wondered.

"No."

After a minute, the helmet sank out of sight. But Chen now knew where the sniper was hidden, even if he could not see him directly. His eye never wavered from that magnified circle in the rifle scope, in hopes that he might catch a glimpse of a target. All that he needed was a second, a moment, in which to pull the trigger. That was all that he had needed yesterday to shoot the spotter. Would he be so lucky again?

Occasionally, artillery exchanged fire, but the firing was desultory. Again, Major Wu seemed to grow bored. He was a man built for movement and not one to bide his time.

By now, he had drunk up all the wine, with Chen having just a few sips.

"That is the end of that," Wu said, giving the bottle a shake. "Where is that enemy sniper? I know a way to draw him out, which is why I have emptied this bottle for you."

"What way?" Chen wondered.

He realized from the careful way that Major Wu spoke that the political officer might be somewhat intoxicated.

Wu's next actions proved Chen's suspicions. The major took the empty wine bottle and placed it on top of a rock beside their hiding place, in plain sight.

"What are you doing?" Chen asked anxiously.

"Enough of these games," Wu said. "We need to show the enemy sniper where we are hidden so that he will fire at us and then you can return fire and finish him off."

That is a terrible idea, Chen thought. However, what he said was, "What an excellent idea, sir."

"Yes, yes, we've agreed. Now, keep your head down and let's see what happens."

But no shots came right away.

"I don't understand," Wu said, putting the binoculars back to his eyes and scanning the opposite ridge. Suddenly, he paused and murmured, "Wait, I don't believe it."

Through the scope, Chen saw at once what had caused Wu's astonishment.

"The Americans have done the same thing," Wu said. "They have placed, not a bottle, but maybe one of their canteens on a rock on their side."

One moment the object had not been there, and then it had. Chen wondered what it all meant. Was it a trick? Here was the bottle on their side, and the Americans had set up a canteen on their side.

He sensed that a gauntlet had been tossed down. Should Chen pick it up? He pressed his eye more tightly against the scope, searching for any movement on the American side, feeling the metal ring digging into the soft flesh.

"This is interesting," Wu said. "But what does it mean? Is it a signal of some sort?"

They did not have to wait long to find out. Moments later, a bullet struck the base of the rock that held the bottle. Fragments of rock flew, one of them even stinging Wu's face and drawing blood. Wu swore in a distinctly non-Maoist fashion.

Chen considered that the enemy's aim could have been better because the other marksman hadn't managed to hit the political officer or the bottle.

Another bullet came in, striking even closer, but again, sparing the bottle and Wu, who was keeping his head down.

After a glance at Wu, who was swiping at his injured face with a handkerchief, Chen went back to his rifle scope. He knew that he was well hidden in his own sniper’s den. It would take the eyes of a hawk to catch a glimpse of his camouflaged rifle muzzle or to detect the glassy glint of his telescopic sight. He worked in relative safety. With that knowledge, he decided that if it was a game that the other sniper wanted, then it was a game that he would get.

He looked through the scope to just where the canteen was sitting in plain view on the American side.

As he looked, another shot struck near the bottle sitting just a couple of feet from Chen's position. Try as he might, he could not see the other sniper. The man was just as well hidden as Chen himself.

Here was someone who knew his craft, but Chen was not discouraged. Looking through the sight at the canteen, he decided to take a shot at it. The American could not hit the bottle, but perhaps Chen could hit the canteen. This was the game that they would play as snipers.

He held the crosshairs a little bit above and to the right of the canteen, accounting for distance and the slight breeze. His finger began to take up tension on the trigger. He held his breath and ever so slowly, his finger took up the last bit of tension. The rifle fired.

A full second later, the canteen flew off the rock and disappeared.

Beside him in the sniper's hide, Major Wu had been watching through binoculars. The officer laughed happily at the sight of the canteen flying away.

Chen allowed himself a rare smile.

Whatever game he and the other sniper were playing at, Chen suspected that he had just won.