Courage

My my how far we've come. Long gone are the days of chivalrous knights and wondrous kings that ruled the land with wisdom and compassion. I see so many people walk the earth scared to talk to one another, and if they do, it's because of need, not want. Asking for directions; when is the last time you asked for directions AFTER first acknowledging the person with a greeting, or a smile? When is the last time you crossed the road because of someone walking towards you that looked a little too rough. Have they done anything to warrant that label slapped on them? Are they themselves slapping a label on you? What in hell is going on here???? Don't be afraid, be proactive. Its natural for people to put up walls of defences when in a strange environment. Let's try and break them down a little, just a little. If you were to do something unusual and spontaneous, like start laughing in a quiet store, others would laugh with you, why? Not because they think your crazy, it's because they now feel more comfortable in the presence of a familiar emotion. They laugh. Strike up a conversation with someone you have seen before at your bus stop, but never talked to. See what happens. Have the courage to be approachable and open, have the courage to be nice and compassionate, have the courage to present yourself to the world and be proud. These fools who attack helpless people, or go around in gangs hurting innocent people, they are cowards. Every last one of them. Meeting the world head on, with the resolve to be an individual, in all of your amazing diversity.......that's courage. Choosing not to follow the group and recognise others at an even level.....courage. Next time your met with a situation that threatens to break the mold, or take you out of your comfort zone, do it. Embrace the moment. Let the ride surprise you. Represent yourself to the world. Have the courage to be you, in a world of fantastic diversity.

Sniper

He turned his head slightly to try and glimpse the truck that groaned to his left. Hidden well beneath the brush and low bushes, complete with yowie suit, he knew he was undetectable. The large rifle strapped with reeds, grass, and small branches was light in his grip, the scope dialed to the central tent in the small compound ahead, the barrel protruding only slightly from the foliage. He knew he had been here for a while, the itching from the hessian camouflage suit had stopped and the numbness from being stationary for hours had begun, reducing his belly and arms to little more than a flesh mattress.

Idling now the truck chugged at the large entry gate to the compound, waiting for the driver to get the all clear from the sentries and allow him to pass through. That was the third truck that had arrived since he had taken his position here the previous dawn. Noticing the long shadows from the trees behind him, the dusk approaching, he settled again and focused once more on the target area. Optimal time for engagement was only fifteen minutes before dusk, one of the few times that General Rashav allowed himself for a quick smoke and some respite from planning the attacks on the Muslim township some 5 miles to the east.

Bradley lifted the rifle to his shoulder and peered down the scope. Taking note of the wind direction on the flag he adjusted a dial on the scope to compensate. The day guards were becoming restless just as they had this time yesterday. Readying themselves to hand over to the relief crew that would stand vigil for the evening, occasionally shining lights on the perimeter looking for breaches in the ten feet high razor wire fence. Twice last night a roaming patrol had passed within no more than a dozen paces of Bradley’s rifle muzzle, one had even urinated on a bush nearby and looked directly towards him only to finish and move on.

Rashav exited the rear of the tent and lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply then releasing the large plume of smoke into the air. Bradley trained the crosshairs on Rashav’s forehead. Slowly applying pressure to the trigger he took a deep breath, released half of it, then held the rest for a few seconds to calm himself. The rifle kicked back predictably and sent the projectile racing towards Rashav’s head. The silenced weapon gave no clue that a shot had been fired some six hundred yards away. The canvas behind Rashav turned crimson and shook, pieces of cranial matter dripped and fell from the tent flap as more officers came from within. Shouts went up and an alarm was raised. One officer ran out of the tent and slipped on the pool of blood that had already formed at the floor of entrance.

Bradley replaced the cover to the scope, retracted his rifle beneath him and lay still. Soon it would be night. Soon he could begin the slow crawl to the hill behind him, only then could he be out of sight and run the 4 miles to the retrieval point.

The following morning Bradley climbed aboard the helicopter and secured his weapon. Captain McGinley tapped him on the shoulder and yelled over the noise of the helicopter rotors, “You need a shower, son”.

“Yes sir. Thirty four hours of bugs and snake shit for a single shot. Only way I know how to spend Christmas, Sir.”