[Greg Anos]

Scaring snipers is a lot like killing tanks. A

lot of fun once you learn how, but not

habit forming if you make mistakes. You

see, your typical sniper is focused on

getting silently into position and being

ready for that "perfect shot" target

showing up. They are focused, but not

usually on their backside.



Some people go for style points. A simple

"Boo" is effective, but a classy favorite

is "How many rounds do you have,

soldier?". The really tacky people like

to scream "Ten Hut" right behind them.

The really mean ones prefer carrying a

sawed-off pump .12 gauge and get

just behind the sniper and then jack a

round thru the chamber. That's a

guaranteed pants changer.



Of course, if it's a two man team with a

spotter, you're better off dealin' a

long distance with a bull horn and a

couple of flanking snipers of you own.



I hadn't spotted a spotter, though that

didn't mean there wasn't one. I

figgered he was a ways off,

communicating by some form of

telecom, and probably off duty

anyways. I was bettin' that they

wouldn't shoot me without asking

some questions first. And if they

didn't want to give away their

position, they wouldn't move. And

since they were kibitzing in the

first place, they weren't going to

give their position away, not with

all those FBI agents around there

with guns and annoyed egos.



Bein' the polite gentleman that I am,

I carefully sneaked in until I got to

about 5 meters from the sniper.



"Seargent, I need to talk with your

C.O." You had to make seargent

before you could apply to sniper school.



There was a twitch in the grass and

then nothing. An old pro. I

returned the favor.



"Seargent, I have two snipers zeroed

on you. You're out of your

jurisdiction, and no court will hold

them responsible if you make a

move at me. Now I know you're

only followin' orders, and I

respect that. I'm the FBI negotiator

for this deal, and I'd like to talk

up your chain of command. You're

the only contact I have so far."



Still no reaction.



Sigh. "Ok, seargent. Bravo, Delta,

illuminate the target."



Two red laser spots hit the grass area

about where his chest should be. Like

me, he could see the color bounce off

the grass where they hit it.



That seem to convince him.



"Alright mister, you've made your point."



"Bravo, Delta, drop the spots." The

targeting lasers disappeared. " Now

seargent, I'm assuming you have a

contact with your spotter and your

C.O. Can you tell them I'm not

shootin' and I just want to settle

the jurisdiction issue, peacefully, if at all

possible. And tell me where they are?"



"Give me a minute."



A couple of minutes of soft muttering

started.



"The C.O. for this operation is over on

Josephine Street." He gave me the

address.



"Thanks, seargent. I don't want or need

to know where your spotter is."

Professional courtesy.



"By the way, who are you?"



"The handle's Red. Red Edwards."



"How did you spot me?"



"You're in the line of sight between the

messenger when he goes by and the

horizon. You did a great job of camoflage,

but those .50 Cals are bears to hide.

Barrett's, isn't it?"


"You know your guns, Red."


"Yep, I got one back home. Last used by

a pretty girl workin' for me over in

Australia. Are you single?"



"Happily married."



"I figgered you two might want to talk

shop, but I don't want to put temptation

in front of a fella. Y'all have a nice day."



I headed back to the car.