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Chapter Fifty-Six


Cortisone went to the armory to claim his sniper rifle from the locker where he kept it. It had been a good companion to him over the years. The finest Russian made, long range precision rifle ever made. Years ago while still a young man he had been hand-picked by Fidel and sent to the Soviet Union as it was called back then. He’d attended their sniper training school. Above all else he learned patience. They taught him the art of concealment and camouflage. They taught him how to shoot at long ranges and to be extremely accurate. He had graduated at the top of his class, far ahead of the Russians who were his classmates. That is how he’d earned the rifle. They only gave one such rifle out to each class. Only the top student of each class received one. The others earned an inferior model of rifle.

Cortisone took the time to take the rifle apart and clean each part before reassembling it. The ammunition that he shot was all hand loaded to his specifications by himself. The bullet, casing, primer and the type of powder were all carefully chosen for speed and accuracy. He slipped the rifle over his shoulder and slid back out of the fortress and towards the line of trees that marked the forest.

He had followed a slight depression when he passed thru the enemy’s ranks and headed back to it. Slowly crawling on his belly he kept just below the lip. He paused when he heard whispering in front of him and slowly moved forward and slightly away from the voices. It took him four hours to pass safely thru their ranks, time that was well spent. Speed killed and not just on the highways. A sloppy sniper was a dead sniper.

Once he was far enough away from those watching he stood up and started off in the direction of the enemy’s radio shack. His first job was to observe it for weaknesses. To see if an opportunity presented itself for him to use the radio to send a message.

The radio shack was located on top of a ridgeline. To the north was a second ridgeline nearly the same height as this one was. It was over a half a mile away, far enough away where he’d feel safe. He could easily slip away into the forest well before a pursuit could be organized.

Cortisone climbed the second ridge and located three downed logs that lay in a tangle. He positioned himself inside the group and was concealed by the high grass and crisscross limbs. He cut a couple of limbs out of the way to give him a better field of vision from the sniper’s nest. Looking thru his scope he was pleased at the view he now had of the shack and the area around it. He was a patient man. He could wait for days for an opportunity to present itself. He took a small sip of water from his canteen and leaned back against one of the logs silently watching those posted around the radio shack who protected it.