At eight a.m., Jack stood in line waiting to be checked in to the sniper competition.
“Morning, Savage.”
Jack turned and saw Lieutenant Jacobson. Setting down his gear, he saluted.
“As you were, Savage,” Jill responded in a snappy but friendly way.
“How were the accommodations last night?” Jack tried to be amicable to his new boss.
“Okay except the smell of alcohol. It smelled like a doctor’s office. I can’t imagine why.” Jill smiled.
“Mmm . . .” Jack sensed that Jill was in a joking mood, but he wanted to focus on the competition.
“Did you bring the 50-caliber?” Jill asked.
“Yup, I wouldn’t be caught dead without it.”
“I heard the recoil is difficult to get used to.” Jill sounded curious. “I have never shot a gun that was that big.”
“I use the latest version of the M82, and it has a muzzle brake that removes some of the kick, but it’s still a handful. I’ve shot rifles a long time, and this gives the worst kick of any gun. I have to pull it tightly into my shoulder before each shot. If I don’t, I get heavy bruising that runs the full length of my arm.”
“I’m glad you are the trigger man and not me. Or should I say trigger person?” Jill said.
“Whatever . . .” Jack replied. You joke about being a woman now, but wait until we get into a difficult spot in hostile territory. Your sense of humor won’t be worth much at that point.
“Have you seen the schedule for the competition?” Jill asked.
“This morning we review the overall competition, then we go to the range and zero the riflescope. The rest of today is the Shoot Out. Day two is the Final Shot.”
“Okay, maybe when we get to lunch we can review our strategy,” Jill said.
Jack wanted to speak candidly, but restrained himself and remained silent. She’s using the ‘strategy’ word again. Why can’t she just do the work? Better yet, get out of the way and let me get the job done.