"Should we rest, sir?" Chen asked the next time that Wu fell, making sure to keep his face turned away so that Wu didn't see his grin.
"Yes, yes, just for a moment," Wu said. He tipped up his canteen and took a drink, then offered it to Chen.
Chen took a drink, anticipating a few sips of cool water, and gagged at the alcohol that ran down his throat. "Rice wine?"
"We must fortify ourselves, Chen," the major explained. "Besides, most of the water here would make you ill. It is unhealthy. Better to drink rice wine!"
It was true that many men had been affected with runny bowels due to the bad water, which was why it was mostly boiled now to make tea. However, it would only be someone like Wu who could fill his canteen with rice wine. Better prepared now, Chen took a long drink and enjoyed the feeling of warmth that spread through him in the morning chill.
"Much better, sir," Chen said, handing back the canteen.
"Do well today, Chen, and I will see to it that you get your own rice wine. Maybe a whole bottle."
Now that Wu had caught his breath, they pressed on, finally reaching a point where the forward sentries were located. They nodded at Chen in recognition because he had visited here before. His Russian sniper rifle with its telescopic sight was instantly recognizable.
He and Wu were now slightly above the opposing ridge where the Americans were present in strength. He could see them lined up along the ridge in the early morning half-light.
"Look at them all," Wu said. "There won't be nearly that many returning when this morning's work is finished. With luck, they will retreat right into our own bayonets behind them!"
Major Wu spoke with a certainty that Chen himself did not feel. In the past, he had seen how the Chinese paid a heavy price against the superior weapons of the enemy. Of course, it was doubt and fear that kept a soldier alive. Wisely, he did not share his misgivings with the political officer.
Pushing doubt from his mind, Chen focused on his work. There were several places already along the ridge where he had plied his trade as a sniper.
He knew that it went against several tenets of the sniper rulebook to shoot from the same position on more than one day, but he had moved around enough that he felt confident. No one would know where to expect him next. Besides, in his experience so far, he did not have an equal among the Americans. It was true that they had a sniper or two firing from their own position, but so far, their efforts had not been able to displace or even threaten Chen. They are the dogs, he reminded himself. I am the fox.
He was now located directly across from the ridge where two rocky outcroppings rose up. He thought they looked like the ears of a cat. The rocky protuberances on the ridge line created a distinctive landmark. He set his rifle across a stone and peered through the scope, ready to get down to business. He put a rag under the stock to cushion the weapon. The barrel itself was already wrapped in scraps of cloth in order to help break up the outline of the rifle and better disguise it from enemy eyes.
"When the Americans attack, thin them out as much as you can," Wu said. "We don't want to make this too easy for them. Remember, the bulk of our men will move around their flank and attack their rear."
Chen nodded, not bothering to speak, already slipping into his role as a sniper. Let them come, he thought. I will strike like the eagle from above.
Predictably, the American artillery began to fire, the shells falling into the camp that they had vacated just a short time ago. Most of the troops were already gone, rushing to flank the American defenses and drive a sword into their rear support areas. Of course, the American gunners would think that they were wreaking destruction on the enemy.
"Look at that," Major Wu said approvingly, watching the geysers of earth erupting on the hillside below. "Their shells fall on nothing."
Calling the targeted area nothing wasn't entirely accurate — a few soldiers had been left behind to guard the encampment. Many wounded were also in that encampment, now bearing the brunt of the bombardment. No matter, Chen thought. The ruse had worked.
Through the rifle scope, he began to pick out targets. There were so many. He did not simply shoot the first man whom his sights touched. He wanted to pick out the richest targets. An officer or a radio operator. In part, this was why Wu had come along. With the binoculars, he was able to see a much broader picture of the ridge where the Americans crouched, awaiting their order to advance.
Wu made an approving grunt. He had spotted a suitable target. The political officer knew his business, at least. "I think I see an enemy sniper," he said, and directed Chen's view that way.
Through the scope, the target sprang closer. Chen could see him now, an American soldier with a rifle that had a telescopic sight. The American snipers were few and far between, and briefly, he wondered if this was the same sniper that he had encountered back at the Chosin Reservoir. He remembered that man well because the sniper's cold eyes still haunted him. In some ways, it had been like looking into a mirror.
The enemy soldier had only escaped in the end because he had tricked Chen with a decoy. The decoy — the corpse of one of his fellow soldiers — had been rigged with a grenade that had killed two of the men accompanying Chen. Chen himself had only narrowly escaped. By then, the American sniper had gotten away. Could this possibly be the same man? Chen had no real way of knowing at this distance.
The enemy's rifle stood out because he had not bothered to camouflage it in any way. This sniper did not seem particularly concerned with keeping himself hidden. Like so many of his comrades, perhaps he thought that he was invincible.
He watched the man move forward on the ridge, leaving himself even more exposed. A few Chinese troops below were firing at the American position, mainly to hold their attention as the main body of Chinese slipped away. The sniper seemed intent on trying to pick off some of these men.
Chen put the sights on the enemy sniper and slowly began to squeeze the trigger.
"That's it," Wu said gleefully, nearly into Chen's ear. "You've got him."
Chen ignored the annoying political officer and shut out everything but the target visible in his rifle scope. Slowly, slowly, he took up tension on the trigger. The distance was at the limits of what he could accurately hit, and the slightest miscalculation would send the bullet astray.
Finally, the rifle kicked against his shoulder.
"We got him!" Wu whispered.
The major spoke as if it had been his eye looking through the sight and pulling the trigger. Chen looked through the scope, seeing that the body of the sniper was indeed now slumped in the rock and dirt. The sniper had a spotter, and Chen worked the bolt, thinking that he might shoot this soldier as well, but the spotter scurried back under cover before Chen could get his sights on him.
"Congratulations on your fine work as a spotter, sir," Chen said, carefully keeping the slightest trace of sarcasm from his voice.
"Yes, yes, thank you," Wu agreed, sounding pleased. The binoculars were pressed against his eyes as he scanned the ridge. "Who else can we shoot? Fortunately for us, we have an entire ridge filled with targets."
For once, Chen thought, he and Wu had something that they could agree upon.
Chapter Ten
Paring knife in hand, Cole studied the potato that he held. It was just as unremarkable as the hundreds of other potatoes that had passed through his hands recently. Reckon I'd be happy if I don't never see another spud again so long as I live. Leastways, not a potato on the wrong side of his plate.