Sniper Ridge

Chapter Twenty

Cole spotted Lieutenant Ballard and ducked his head, hoping to avoid giving a run-down of what had happened up on the ridge. Once he heard how Cole had screwed up and let the enemy get the best of him, Ballard just might put him back to washing dishes and peeling potatoes.

He had planned to pay a visit to the mess tent to see what he could scrounge up in the way of hot food, but now he wasn't so hungry.

Instead of the mess area, he headed off to find the pup tent that he shared with the kid, in hopes of getting some sleep. Suddenly, he felt deeply exhausted. He didn't even bother to clean his rifle, which he usually did the way that some men said their prayers at night.

He had never been so down. It wasn't in his nature to admit defeat, but it hadn't been an easy couple of days. First, he had seen those American soldiers killed by the Chinese sniper and then he had lost a shooting match, which wounded his pride deeply. He had also lost Pomeroy. Cole took some comfort in the fact that the SOB was still alive and on a plane away from the fighting, but it was unlikely that Cole would see his old friend again anytime soon.

He crawled into the pup tent and found that the kid was already there, fast asleep, after having hit the mess tent. The kid stirred just long enough to open one eyelid at Cole's arrival.

"There you are," he said. "Lieutenant Ballard was looking for you."

"What the hell did he want?"

"Didn't say," the kid said. "And I didn't ask. I was too busy eating at the time, but I thought that I'd pass along the message."

He rolled over and promptly fell back asleep.

Cole had no idea what Ballard could have wanted with him, but he was sure that it wasn't good. His stomach had rumbled at the mention of food, but he welcomed the pang of hunger. It took him back to his boyhood, and all the nights that he had lain awake, hungry in the dark, before heading out to hunt in the morning.

There was nothing like hunger pangs to motivate you. How many times had he gone into the woods with no more than a single bullet or shotgun shell because that was all there was to spare. Somehow, he had almost always managed to come back with something to help feed his family while his pa was on a bender or off in the hills, cooking his shine.

There had been a cloak of responsibility weighing on his young shoulders to provide for his ma and his brothers and sisters. But it had also been a point of pride that he could help fill their bellies.

His thoughts wandering now, Cole realized that he probably wasn't going to fall asleep, tired though he was. Enviously, he listened to the even breathing that the kid made beside him. Whatever happened in the days ahead, he had to make sure that the kid survived. Hell, he owed him that much. After all, being Cole's spotter was starting to get dangerous.

The kid had mentioned trying for the enemy sniper again tomorrow, but Cole wasn't so sure about that. He was already down. How many times did he want to get kicked?

Not wanting to toss and turn and wake the kid, he took his blanket and carried it outside. He wanted to glimpse the stars in the night sky.

It was a clear, crisp autumn night and somewhere riding the breeze, he could smell wood smoke from some soldier's campfire. He wasn't sure if it came from the American side or from the Chinese side, but no matter; it was a comforting smell all the same.

He looked up at the sky and saw the glittering pinpricks of the stars. His father had taught him the constellations as a boy and even here in the sky of Korea, he could recognize some of them. There was Cassiopeia, in all her mythic beauty, and also low on the horizon crouched Orion, the Hunter, recognizable by the three stars in a row that made up his belt.

A hunter in the sky and one below watching him. Cole took that to be a good omen.

Nonetheless, it took a long time for sleep to find him.

It was only after he pulled his rifle closer, smelling the familiar gunpowder and the gun oil, that he was finally able to sleep.

In the morning, the squad was rotated out for sentry duty and Cole joined them rather than return to the ridge to face the enemy sniper again.

Their role was to guard the main road leading to the base, but it was a cakewalk in that they didn't have to worry any about the enemy. The Chinese were all in the hills and mountains, but not on the open plain that led nearly twenty miles back to Seoul.

Cole carried his scoped Springfield on a sling over one shoulder. Although he wouldn't be needing it down here on sentry duty, it wasn't safe to leave the rifle in his tent for somebody from another unit to "requisition" something as scarce as a sniper rifle. In this Army, possession was nine-tenths of the law.

It was dull duty, but it was a hell of a lot better than being up on the line getting shot at. The platoon was rotated in and out of sentry duty to give the soldiers a break. In addition, every few days they had a day in camp just to clean and inspect their equipment. Mostly, they used that down time just to smoke cigarettes, play cards, write letters home, and sleep. Soldiers never could get enough sleep.

Right now, at the southern entrance to the encampment, the most that they had to worry about were officers coming and going. And even they weren't all that important, because the officers who mattered came and went by helicopter, not Jeep. This morning, however, the road into and out of camp seemed particularly busy, with the tough Jeeps churning through the muddy roads. Several trucks arrived, laden with ammo or reinforcements, most of whom wore spanking new uniforms.

"Look at all those greenbeans. More fodder for the cannons," said one of the sentries, shaking his head.

"Something's up," the kid said. "Lots of traffic."

"Maybe there's another attack planned," Cole said. "The Chinese still hold Sniper Ridge, and I know that doesn't sit well with the brass."

"You're probably right," the kid agreed. "But when that attack happens, I hope that I'm back here on sentry duty."

Ballard approached, and Cole tensed. He hadn't seen the lieutenant since the kid's warning last night that Ballard was looking for him.

Now, the lieutenant had found him.

"Cole, goddammit, where have you been?"

"Sir? I—"

"Never mind," Ballard said impatiently. "Listen up. You have got to do something about that sniper up there on the ridge. Everybody from the colonel on down has been on me about it."

"You, sir?"

"Yes, me. Because I have the unfortunate situation of having you in my platoon, and word has gotten around that you are the best shot we’ve got. Which puts me in charge of snipers and counter-sniper measures, apparently. All of which I need like I need a hole in the head."

"If you say so, sir."

Ballard glared at him. "If you were an actual sniper, you'd be getting the job done and we wouldn't have that problem with that Chinese dead-eye, now would we?"

Cole glared at the lieutenant, but had the good sense to tamp down what he really wanted to say. "No sir, I reckon not."

"Think about that, Cole. Think about how you can eliminate him."

"Yes, sir."

“You’ll get your chance tomorrow,” Ballard added. “There’s going to be another attack on Sniper Ridge. We are going to take it back from the enemy for good.”

Ballard stalked off, grumbling, and leaving a silent Cole in his wake.

They went back to guard duty, watching the comings and goings of Jeeps and trucks, but that was mostly quiet — a little too quiet. Cole never had a whole lot to say, and they were all feeling the absence from the squad of the loquacious Pomeroy, but the hillbilly marksman was especially silent this morning.

The kid couldn't help but start jabbering to fill the quiet. "I sure do miss Pomeroy," the kid said. "At least he had something to say now and then."

"I reckon we all miss him, kid."

"Why didn't you go back to that ridge this morning, Cole?" the kid asked. He was always cautious about calling Cole "hillbilly" like Pomeroy had. "I would have gone with you."

"I don't know," Cole said. "Maybe I needed to take a break."

"By coming down here and watching the brass go by in their Jeeps?" The kid paused. "Wait a minute. You're not scared, are you?"

Cole bristled. "Scared of what?"

"Well, you missed that Chinese sniper yesterday and when you got into that shooting contest, you couldn't seem to hit that old bottle that the enemy stuck out there on a rock. The other guy didn't seem to have any trouble hitting our canteen."

"Thanks a lot for noticing, kid," Cole said, tamping down his anger because he knew that the kid was just stating the obvious. "Ballard already busted my balls about all this, and the last thing I need is more of the same from you."

For now, it appeared that the lieutenant was keeping him on sniper duty. He was sure that the lieutenant would have taken away the scoped rifle and given it to someone else if there had been any good candidates. At the same time, Cole also felt a weight on his shoulders. The kid’s comments were not helping.

Cole held out the rifle to the kid. "Kid, do you think maybe you want to give it a try and see if you can do any better?"

The kid stared at him and shook his head. "I don't know what's gotten into you, but I can sure tell you one thing. Nobody else can shoot like you can, Cole."

"Listen, kid—"

"No, let me finish," the kid said. "You have got to be the coolest customer with a rifle that I've ever seen. That anybody has seen. You were born to do this, Cole. I'm not like you. None of us is like you. This is what you were made for."

"In case you didn't notice, I almost got Pomeroy killed."

"If Pomeroy were here, he would agree with me. So what, you had a bad day. Your one bad day is better than any of the rest of us could do in a year."

Having said his piece, the kid turned and walked away, giving Cole something to chew over.

The lieutenant had kicked him in the ass a short while ago. That, he could take. The kid had just kicked him in the gut, which hurt a whole lot worse.

Having walked a few feet away, the kid stopped and looked back at Cole.

"What are you still doing here?" the kid asked. "You need to get after that sniper."

For the first time in a while, Cole grinned. But there was nothing humorous or friendly in his expression. It was more like a wolf showing its teeth.

Nervously, the kid took a step back, as if to create some distance between them.

"All right, kid," Cole said. "You win."

He left the guard post and started to walk back toward the main encampment.

"Hey, where are you going?" the kid called after him.

Cole said over his shoulder, "If you see the lieutenant, tell him I went hunting."