mondocomputerman
Member
From the book "One Shot One Kill" and quoting Carlos Hathcock:
"Cross-hairing the glimmer of reflected light, still unable to determine what it was, knowing only that in these surroundings it was something unnatural, I took up trigger slack.
The bark of the Winchester Model 70 shrieked down the gully, shattering the quiet that had endured since the Cobra killed Burke's canteen. Next to me, I felt Burke give an involuntary start as the end of the gully two hundred yards from us exploded. There was no mistaking where the 30.06 slug caught the sniper. The body of a man shot through the head often flops around like a chicken with its neck wrung, the brain gone haywire, shooting all the nerves in the body with its electricity before the lights go out permanently.
The Cobra sniper's arms and legs flailed and thrashed. His body repeatedly propelled itself into the air, blood spurting, as it cleared a red-smeared nest in the bushes. It arched its torso against the sky; the entire body began trembling desperately until life was simply gone and the thing that had been a man minutes ago collapsed to earth.
Burke was the first one to him. He picked up the dead sniper's rifle and stared at it.
"Holy Sxxx! Nobody's gonna believe this!"
Both lenses of the scope, front and back, were shattered. I examined the dead hamburger. It was obvious what had happened. My bullet smashed through his scope and into his right eye. At the the moment I shot him, the Cobra had his scope trained on me and was a hairbreadth away from claiming the bounty on my head.
I just happened to get on the trigger first.
It was a sobering thought.
"Cross-hairing the glimmer of reflected light, still unable to determine what it was, knowing only that in these surroundings it was something unnatural, I took up trigger slack.
The bark of the Winchester Model 70 shrieked down the gully, shattering the quiet that had endured since the Cobra killed Burke's canteen. Next to me, I felt Burke give an involuntary start as the end of the gully two hundred yards from us exploded. There was no mistaking where the 30.06 slug caught the sniper. The body of a man shot through the head often flops around like a chicken with its neck wrung, the brain gone haywire, shooting all the nerves in the body with its electricity before the lights go out permanently.
The Cobra sniper's arms and legs flailed and thrashed. His body repeatedly propelled itself into the air, blood spurting, as it cleared a red-smeared nest in the bushes. It arched its torso against the sky; the entire body began trembling desperately until life was simply gone and the thing that had been a man minutes ago collapsed to earth.
Burke was the first one to him. He picked up the dead sniper's rifle and stared at it.
"Holy Sxxx! Nobody's gonna believe this!"
Both lenses of the scope, front and back, were shattered. I examined the dead hamburger. It was obvious what had happened. My bullet smashed through his scope and into his right eye. At the the moment I shot him, the Cobra had his scope trained on me and was a hairbreadth away from claiming the bounty on my head.
I just happened to get on the trigger first.
It was a sobering thought.
