Sniper: Black Ops, #1

SNIPER:

Black Ops

by

John B Etterlee

Copyright © 2018 by John B. Etterlee

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned,

or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.

First Edition: February 2018

Printed in the United States of America

This book is dedicated to all Special Operations Forces of the United States and the United Kingdom. As a disabled/retired United States Army combat Veteran, I understand your sacrifices and you guys deserve the utmost respect.

Table of contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Prologue

It was the beginning of the war on terror. Osama Bin Laden was the key focus in everyone’s mind. I was fresh out of high school and had no direction for my life. I had many side jobs. But, nothing career worthy. One day my father sat me down and gave me a pep talk about important life decisions. He suggested that I join the Army because he thought I would be good at it. I needed the challenge in my life.

I had no clue what that would actually entail. I became an expert marksman in basic training, and my commanding officer wanted to send me to sniper school. So I went. I excelled and graduated at the top of my class. I loved going out on missions as a sniper. But I absolutely could not stand the regular Army. I didn’t feel that they were utilizing snipers as effectively as they should.

The politics and red tape are what I couldn’t stand.  Rather than reenlist; I did my four years and called it quits. I just didn’t feel that I had the freedom to operate in a way that would showcase all of the skills I had acquired. To say the least, I was fairly disappointed with my time in the Army.  I guess you could say that it didn’t live up to my expectations as a warrior.

It was the only thing in my life that I was truly good at. And I felt let down. I had just gotten out of the British Army after being deployed to Iraq and Afghanistan on multiple occasions. I had no idea what I was going to do next. It seems I was trying to drown bad memories with beer and whiskey.  The truth is, I was afraid. I was afraid that I wouldn’t be able to move on with my life. I was feeling guilt that out of twenty-one members of my platoon I was one of three that survived that day In Fallujah.

I was being told that I had post traumatic stress disorder. But, I really think I was just angry at the time.  I was angry over the loss of my friends. I was angry that I couldn’t get my revenge. And, I was angry that I had no control over what happened to them.

There was nothing I could do about it. And, I had a very hard time accepting that. They tried to talk me into reenlisting but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. After I had gotten out I had pretty much alienated everyone close to me. I didn’t want to hear peoples advice. And, if one more person told me that I shouldn’t feel guilty over something I couldn’t control I was going to lose my mind. They don’t understand. Only those who have served can truly understand what this feels like.

I had been spending most of my time in this little pub in downtown London, trying to avoid anyone that I knew. I was just wanting to get by, living my life one day at a time. Eventually, that catches up to everyone. I got so drunk one night that I don’t even remember going home. I woke up the next morning in a pool of vomit on my living room floor.

I couldn’t bring myself to stop. It seemed like the only way to forget about everything from my past. I was on my own. There was no handbook on how to deal with this pain. One night I was sitting in the pub in a corner booth, with a bottle of whiskey in front of me. I saw this woman walk in and sit down at the bar.

She had this professional look to her. And, the way she carried herself was very assertive. For some reason she kept looking over at me. I got up to walk out and as I walked past her I heard her say, Victor. I turned around in confusion. Who are you and how do you know my name? Let’s just say I am a fan, she replied.  Your name is Victor James, former British Army Sniper. 125 confirmed kills. You are from Manchester and divorced with no kids. You got out of the Army last year and have been floating around jobless ever since. Nice to put a face to the name.

I replied, How do you know so much about me? You stalking me or something? Lets’s just say that I have a vested interest in you, she said. You MI6? She looked me right in the eyes and said, Come with me. I will explain everything to you. Let’s just say that everything else is history.

I was sent to a training program that tested me to the absolute limit. I didn’t know that organizations like this actually existed. I had always thought that my skills were meant for something greater but I had no idea what that meant. To have her absolutely believe in me enough to recruit me in the way that she did was very refreshing. But, I still had no idea what was in store for me in the future.

Chapter 1

Two Birds

1100. SOMEWHERE IN AFGHANISTAN. We got word that there was a high level Taliban Commander operating in this area. I have been lying here on this mountain side for twelve hours. If he shows his face, I’m blowing it off. Conventional forces had tried to find this guy but failed miserably. People were afraid to turn him in. He’s brutal.

This man would just assume amputate your leg than look at you. You see, to catch a ghost, you need a ghost. My unit operates above any special operations that you have heard about. We are ghosts; not even shadows on your wall. We operate with complete autonomy. There is no government, congressional, or parliamentary oversight. There is just the hunt.

Our intel guys have been tracking this guy for a year. We are the only ones on our side who know who he is and what he looks like. Usually, wherever he goes, he leaves a trail of blood and bodies. He has a particularly interesting method of torture. Unfortunately, there have been a few Soldiers who have learned this first hand. He ties them to a chair using a very strong wire, which cuts into the skin. As his victim is sitting there in pain, he uses another piece of very strong wire, twists it around their fingers, and cuts them off one by one.

This guy has probably killed more people than AIDS. I would have killed him a long time ago but for one simple reason. Intelligence reports suggest that today he is supposed to be meeting another guy who is also pretty high on our most wanted list. I may get to kill two birds with the same .338 round. The other man’s name is Boris Petrov. He is a Russian arms dealer who pretty much sells weapons to all of our enemies. Apparently, the Russians still hold a grudge for killing some of their top commanders.

One of our previous operatives was tracking Mr. Petrov across France to Paris, where he was attending an event that was being held for the French Prime Minister. Apparently, he donated tons of money to certain dirty French Government officials, with the promise that he could operate freely within French borders. We don’t believe that the prime minister was involved. However, he was naive enough to trust those who were. Our operative was set up in a building across the street from the event.

When the operative was given his chance, he didn’t take it for fear that he would be caught. Let’s just say that he was given his severance package. Those in this line of work cannot hesitate. If they do, they don’t belong in this profession. It is a dirty job but someone has to do it. Me? I am a crazy ex British Army Sniper. I used to do missions like this before breakfast. There has to be a comfortability involved. You could say that you become desensitized to it. This profession is most definitely not for the family man.

Anyway, now we have another chance to get this guy and I am not going to pass it up. I am lying here in the prone position looking down over the village below. My scope indicates that I am about 800 meters away. I like to operate far away. There’s less of a chance of giving away my position. The longest length of time I have ever waited for a target was one week. It takes an extreme amount of discipline. You can’t get up and walk around. You piss and shit on yourself sometimes. Bugs are crawling all over you. It takes a special breed of man to do this job.

I glance at my watch. It’s been fifteen hours so far. I still have another six hours before this guy is said to have set up the meeting. As I look around, there aren’t very many villagers walking around. To me that indicates one of two things. Either they are staying inside, or they have left. Either way it is usually an indicator that they know something is about to probably happen. I suspect that my targets also have that feeling. I know I would. I will probably only have, at most, a few seconds to take my shot before they are inside the building.

Snipers strike fear in the hearts and minds of everyone. Many are so lethal that they have bounties on their heads. The problem is finding them. We operate from so far away that by the time anyone comes close to where we are, we have left. The enemy will never see or hear a good sniper until it is too late to do anything about it. As a matter of fact, there is only one thing that a sniper truly fears. That is another sniper. Usually the only counter method the enemy can use effectively against us is another sniper.

That makes counter sniper operations extremely important. It is part of our training. A well trained enemy sniper knows how we operate. The ability to counter that threat is just as important to us as the ability to shoot effectively from long distances. If you can’t do all of these and do them to perfection,