Once, on a cold night of Bambus, the observer woke the foot with a touch, and he silently followed the fighter on to the roof, in complete darkness. Sharp light knocked down the optics of night vision devices (NVN), which infuriated the normally unruffled and phlegmatic snipers.
The enemy sniper often fired on the lights, including cigarettes. Therefore, blackout in the arrangement was strictly observed and conscience.
On a flat roof, they lay down and the observer gestured toward the direction. Bambus kissed the eyepiece and looked what happened. Usually, observers at night opened fire on their own and for any reason.
Peering closely, Bambus was simply stunned: at a distance of about 200 m, a figure of a man danced in the PNV. Its contours were the usual greenish shade, as it always happens when looking at the night light. Bambus considered that this man holds a long-barreled weapon in his hands, probably a sniper rifle.
After a moment's thought, the slow-witted Bambus realized his mistake: this unknown sniper did not dance, but slowly and smoothly lifted his legs, stepping over the unseen wire stretch marks. The dancer moved very slowly and in the direction of their location. He was kept on sight and waiting for the team.
Bambus suddenly remembered that NNV was using the light of stars in work. He rolled over on his back and peered at the rare little winter stars.
It was clear the embarrassment of the guys: it was unclear whether to open fire on this night sniper. He was probably crazy. And could be his, or a defector, or lost. And he was now trying at his own risk to go to them.
That's why the guys raised Bambus to shift responsibility to him. And anyway, when and where will you see such a circus?
Bambus never gave up the team to defeat, and the unknown sniper soon turned back and disappeared into the night. In the morning, Bambus spoke with the snipers on duty at night, and they said that they had perfectly examined this man. In his movements and habits, he was one hundred percent high-class, experienced sniper.
Another night later this phenomenon was repeated, and Bambus again did not dare to give the command. The radio came alive, the commander of the enemy came on the air. He asked Bambous with a rough accent. He answered without hesitation. There was a dialogue:
-Can you see him?
-Yes
-Your?
-X3
They were silent for about 15 seconds. Then a voice in the radio said:
-It's gotta take him.
Bambous with all sincerity sincerity offered to him suggested:
-You'll get it.
'Ha ha, joker.'
- Tomorrow at 12.00 I will be at that place, look around.
-Did you, Bambus
-Conference of communication
The next day at 12.00, dressed in civilian and without weapons, Bambus came to the place of 'dancing' a ghostly sniper.
As he suspected, there was a sewer hatch. Stretches at the hatch, by the way, too, were three. Two on the wire, gaily gleaming in the sun, and the third on a dirty thick line.
A short, thin, red-haired man of about forty came up to the hatchway. He and Bambus nodded to each other, not looking at faces and eyes and without speaking.
Bambus lay down on the ground and shouted toward the hatch:
-We came for you. Everything is fine. Leave calmly and repeated the phrase in two other languages.
The answer was silence. The redhead lay beside him and also shouted something in a guttural language. Again silence.
Bambus threw down a pack of cigarettes and a pebble. Then he shouted again.
-If you do not leave now, then next time we will shoot.
The redhead also shouted something. Silence.
'From now on, we're like two assholes,' growled Bambus.
'Yes, yes,' the red-haired man answered in a gay and harsh tone.
-What could they have done
-Yes
The men turned and moved very gently through the stretch marks to the sides.