"Are you going to lie there all day?" Trigger shouted after firing.
Erwin reacted immediately and imitated Trigger's movements, jogged a few steps before throwing himself onto the sand and pulling out the telescope. It wasn't a pleasant experience—the hot sand almost felt like it was cooking his chest. Trigger just watched him with a frown and said nothing.
"Eleven o'clock!" Erwin exclaimed. "A 37mm anti-tank gun!"
Bang!
Trigger hit the mark once again. The gunner and loader were taken down with just two shots. After changing positions, Erwin reported again: "Ten o'clock, a mortar!"
Trigger quickly followed Erwin's directions and killed the mortar operator, then glanced at Erwin with approval. The targets Erwin pointed out weren't high-ranking officers—who aren't ideal in this battle because there are too many of them, and another officer is always ready to take command after they die, so eliminating them wouldn't have much impact. Of course, that doesn't mean officers are unimportant. The leadership value and psychological impact of officers above a certain rank are irreplaceable.
In short, the most important target is the one that can most affect the battle situation in a short time. For example, the anti-tank gun Erwin spotted is a real threat to the German tanks. The same goes for mortars, which are used to attack infantry troops hiding behind tanks. Killing the mortar operator is the right choice.
Maybe it's just luck, Trigger thought—but he soon realized he was wrong.
"Three o'clock!" Erwin shouted. "Enemy sniper, he's aiming this way!"
Trigger's pupils shrank as he realized he was being targeted. He quickly raised his rifle and looked toward the three o'clock position but saw nothing.
"Where?" Trigger asked.
"In the sand!" Erwin replied. "He buried himself in the sand!"
Trigger looked more carefully and spotted a dark muzzle emerging from the sand. Just as he was about to fire, he realized it was too late—he saw a flash of fire, and the next moment, a searing pain tore through his shoulder, blood gushing out and even splattering his face.
"I'm hit!" Trigger jerked his head back and yelled at Erwin: "Fall back!"
At that moment, the observer—Erwin—should have taken over the sniper's mission. But Trigger knew his opponent was well-trained and didn't want Erwin to die meaninglessly. Though Erwin was a bit clumsy, he had managed to spot the ambush, which made Trigger appreciate this rookie a little—he didn't want him dead so soon. Yet, Erwin didn't obey Trigger's order.
Not because he wanted to show off, but because he realized from the start that retreating was pointless. The enemy sniper was on their flank, in an elevated position—even if he fell back, he'd still be exposed. So, Erwin had only one choice: take the shot and kill the enemy before they killed him.
"You're insane!" Seeing Erwin disobey, Trigger shouted again: "Fall back, you won't make it!"
Trigger couldn't imagine Erwin actually raising his rifle at this moment. The gun in Erwin's hands had no scope, and the target was six hundred meters away—hitting it was nearly impossible. But Erwin didn't care. In fact, he didn't even hear anything. Even the sounds of gunfire and artillery faded away. His focus narrowed to just one thing: the enemy sniper.
Erwin noticed one detail—the enemy sniper probably wouldn't move. While the basic rule for snipers is shoot and relocate, that's only for general situations. The battlefield always demands adaptability. For example, right now, the enemy sniper had a perfect opportunity—he could kill an enemy sniper and his observer in the next few seconds. If he rigidly followed protocol and changed positions, he'd undoubtedly lose this chance.
So Erwin raised his rifle without hesitation and aimed at the sniper's original position. Sure enough, the man was still there, his black barrel now turning toward Erwin. He only had one chance—the British Enfield rifle had a much higher rate of fire than the Kar-98. In fact, it was the fastest bolt-action rifle of World War II. While Erwin would need to work the bolt after each shot, his opponent could fire three rounds in that same time. And this was against a scoped sniper, making Erwin's odds even worse.
Bang!
Suddenly, Erwin pulled the trigger. He had no choice—if he'd hesitated half a second longer, he would've lost his chance to fire. A slight tremor traveled from the rifle's stock to his shoulder, as if someone had shoved him, while the bullet raced down the barrel. In the distance, the sand erupted in a small spray, slowly staining red.
"Did I get him?" Erwin murmured, he wasn't sure if it was a kill, but at least he must have incapacitated the sniper—otherwise, enemy bullets would have already torn through his skull.
Time crawled forward, second by agonizing second. After what felt like an eternity, Erwin finally exhaled a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, part of him felt relieved to survive another life-or-death encounter. Another part felt strangely hollow—realizing how easy it was to end a life.
Just aim, squeeze the trigger, and it's done. Maybe a husband, a father, someone with dreams for the future—gone in an instant, the thought sent a chill down his spine, and he instinctively pressed himself deeper into the sand. Who knew if another British rifle was trained on his head right now? One bullet was all it would take.
"Did you get him?" Trigger asked beside him, disbelief in his voice.
"I think so!" Erwin replied. "If not, we'd be dead by now!"
"At this range? With a standard rifle, no scope?" Trigger still couldn't believe it, he grabbed the telescope with his good hand and scanned the enemy position.
"He's dead..." Trigger muttered, staring at the blood-soaked lump in the sand.