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Honore by Gunnery Sergeant
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Honore
Date: 17 July 2003, 4:48 AM
Honore: The Sniper's Tale
By Gunnery Sergeant
This is dedicated to the casualties of the War in Iraq on the American side. Keep fighting, boys.
Chapter One: Sniper School
You might consider my job vulgar, but I see it as cleansing. My name is Gunnery Sergeant (Retired) John Honore, and I am, or more properly, used to be, a sniper in the UNSC Marine Corps.
It started in 2550, in the Great War against the Covenant. I joined up as soon as I was 18. I blew off going to Halworth Colonial College to join, and that's saying something. In high school, I was the quiet guy, the one that never says anything. I got good enough grades; I had a solid 3.5, and had a varsity letter in Cross Country.
After I shot qualifying in Basic, I was selected almost immediately for sniper school, located on the jungle planet of Yong-Jin. My first day went well. It started something like this...
Loud rock music was playing on the transport hog we were taking to the range. There were four figures in light body armor with sniper rifles. Two were hatless, I wore a boonie cap, and one wore a cap. I knew my fellow candidates by now. There was Rob Hanley, the outspoken Australian, who was the best shot out of all of us, a Hispanic named Juan Sanchez, who was the worst, but still good, and then there was Sean King, who was an African-American. King was my friend. I liked him because he had a good set of morals and ethics, and was fond of quoting his grandmother. I was spotting for Hanley on that day, and none of us had a clue. We arrived at the range, and Sergeant Smith, who was in front, who wore a target on his cap, the trademark of a sniper, and he yelled, "OK! HANLEY, HONORE! GET YER ASSES OVER THERE, YOU HAVE 30 MINUTES TO LOCATE AND KILL THE COMMANDER TARGET!" "Sir!" "Sir!" We saluted, and ran off.
The drill went like this, we find a place to shoot, and we'd fire at a target, and then relocate. You see, contrary to popular belief, snipers don't just camp out in one place. We are constantly on the move. Eventually, we found the commander target, which was gold. Hanley shot it once trough the head, and then a voice came over the headsets, "THAT'S PATHETIC, LADIES!!! MY F-ING 4-YEAR-OLD COULD FIND A TARGET QUICKER THAN THAT! GET BACK UP HERE, AND PREPARE FOR MORE TRAINING!!!" We returned back up to the 'hog, and Sgt. Smith gave us our orders. He wasn't yelling anymore. "Ok, you boys have passed the prelim. Now, we give you the test. On the 'hog, we're going to Target Valley." "Yes sir!" We promptly climbed onto the 'hog, and prepared to move out.
"Here's the scenario. The Covies have you cut off from the rest of your unit. You're given 12 rounds. Get the hell out. These are training rounds, when they hit, they will just stun the person they hit for about an hour. The exercise should not take longer than that. Oh, that reminds me, the OPFOR (Opposing Force) is 7th Force Recon. Every one that gets one of you all gets a 48 Hour pass, and $4,000. Your bullets are electronically coded, so we'll count your kills. Good luck."
We were then blindfolded, separated, and knocked out. When I came to, I was in the middle of the jungle. It had started raining. My blindfold was missing, as was my sidearm. My sniper rifle was next to me, along with 12 rounds but only one magazine! Oh great, I thought. I'll have to reload the magazine manually... I picked up the rifle, and moved out. I went about 15 meters when I saw a Marine in full body armor about 50 meters from my right. I raised my rifle to fire, but then reconsidered. I only had 12 rounds, and was not going to waste one on a target I could move around. I threw a rock to his right, and then ran off. The Marine looked over, and said something into his headset. A Pelican flew over, and ropes descended from the back. 6 Marines with Assault Rifles, one a Corporal, came down. They spoke to the Marine, and then set up a small defensive perimeter. I made up my mind, and went prone. I looked through my sights, and out the head of the Corporal in the middle. I fired, and the man went down, stunned. I then threw another rock about 10 meters left of me, and crawled off. The Marines ran over, and were baffled. One of them called someone on his headset. While they were worrying about this, I disappeared into the rainy mist.
I'd put the extra rounds in my boonie cap. So far, I'd had one kill, Corporal, medium priority. For the next kilometer or so, I faced no resistance. Then I ran into trouble. I could see them from 600 meters, with my thermal scope. There was a group of Marines in a circle, with Sanchez in the middle. I knew it was Sanchez because of his bandanna and his custom sniper rifle. He was the only candidate that had a custom rifle. I knew I had to rescue him, but there were ten Marines. Their leader was a Lt. I picked up another rock, and threw it across the clearing. Some Marines went to investigate, but the Lt. stopped them. Oh shit, I thought, this could only get worse. The Lt. separated the Marines into three groups, two of three and one of four. One group came my way. I stayed silent, and watched them walk towards me. At about 100 meters, they reconsidered. I had set up my rifle then, and I sighted the Lt. I aimed, and when I felt confident enough, I took the shot. The Lt. went down, and I crawled off. Honore strikes again, I thought. That old Queen song, "Another One Bites The Dust," ran through my head. Sanchez remained still, but the Marines were in disarray.
After about 45 minutes, I had made it back to friendly lines, but not before encountering two more groups of Marines. King and Hanley were already there, and Sergeant Smith told us, "This is it. Sanchez was captured. Here are your points. Hanley, you killed two fire team leading corporals, both worth 20, and a Sergeant, worth 30. King, you really lucked out. You hit the battalion XO, worth 50 points. You also got a Lt., worth 40 points. Honore, you nailed on Fire Team Corporal, one Sgt., and one Pelican coordinator, worth 50 points. That was the Lt. you took out. Good job. Honore, you rank first. Oh, and this is just initiation. Welcome, to Sniper School. Where the known universe and Hell visibly merge."
Chapter 2: Forced Deployment
After the 2 month long sniper course, I was promoted to Lance Corporal, and along with King, deployed to the 506th Infantry Regiment, Sniper Platoon. My first assignment was a horrendous base in the middle of no where. They called it Engels' Socialism Reserve, and the planet was just a huge swamp. And not a tropical swamp, just a huge, stinking, mire, filled with nothing worth saving. It was one of the few colonies the Covenant hadn't captured or glassed, and I knew it would be attacked. Hell, I didn't know why we wanted it, and I couldn't see why the Covies wanted it. I didn't like it, and neither did King. The Barracks were ok, but they could've been a lot better. We had dry beds, crappy cable, and only one Xbox for the entire platoon... Man, I thought, I should've requested a ship...
King and I made a couple of other friends. We were sitting in the mess hall one day, and the Lieutenant came in. "All right boys, the Covies are en route! We've got two Oscar-Class Covenant Forces en route. I want first section onboard the Pelicans, and assume orbital defense. Second section, get to the defensive positions. Screw your rifles, stick to your SMGs. Move it, Marines!" By my luck, I was in Second Section. I ran toward my position, and drew my SMG. My position was a 180 degree position of sandbags. I pulled down my boonie hat, and brought the sights up to my eyes. I was covered in mud from the point I sat down, but I didn't have time to care. King lay prone beside me. "Grandma always said, when it comes time to strike the devil, be vigilant." "Ok," I lamely responded. The quote made no sense to me, but it felt oddly reassuring. Suddenly, it occurred to me. "Why is it so damn quiet?" The Lieutenant came out of the woods, and started yelling, "All right, return to lunch! Excellent job, men! This has been the best drill yet!" I groaned, and shouldered my SMG. Lieutenant Zachowski was notorious for drilling. He reminded us of Captain Sobel from that old American Book, Band of Brothers. I myself didn't care for the 20th Century. The 21st fascinated me much more. But we returned to the mess hall. "Man," King said, "This is the stupidest thing we've ever done. Why is he training a sniper unit to use SMGs?" I replied, "So we can hold our own if we're rushed. You know how hard it is to fire a Sniper Rifle at close range?" "Yeah, it makes sense. Well, it still sucks." "That it does, Sean. That it does."
Sean was my spotter. Consequently, he was my roommate. That night, we stayed up late watching war movies of old, ranging from Gladiator to the very recent Incursion on Sigma Seven. It was good. As it turns out, Sean King married a certain Nelizia Bradford some time ago. He was 24, and a college graduate. I asked him, "So why aren't you an officer?" He smiled, and told me, "Officers are all talk. We get some good ones, like Zachowski, but most of 'em are latrine slime. Grandma always used to say, 'Trust authority, but trust yourself more.'" I laughed, "Sounds good to me." I laid down, and though about my life. King spoke up, "It's time for me to hit the sack, man. G'night." "G'night." I stayed up, reading Stephen King's 'Salem's Lot. After about ten minutes, I went to bed and had a nightmare.
Chapter 3: The Thoughts That Haunt You...
I woke up the next morning in sweat, to the tune of the Defcon alarm. Over the loudspeaker, I heard the battalion commander, Scott Gearing, ordering, "Combat teams, Alpha through Echo, get to defense positions. Sniper teams, board Pelicans, and prepare for evac." King was already up, and he was holding two sniper rifles. "Honore, c'mon! Let's get the Hell out of here!" "Roger that!" I got up and grabbed my rifle. I slung it on my back, and pulled out my SMG. Just then, the door at the end of the hallway blew in, and a Grunt stood there. I like to compare grunts to rats. They're an annoyance alone, but a threat in great numbers. They weren't well trained, though, and if you took out their non-com, the rest would split. I pumped three rounds into the first grunt. The thing shrieked, and fell over, dead. I fired in two extra rounds, accompanied by, "Get up, so I can kill you again!" We walked through the door, and were greeted by a blast of plasma fire that burned my hair as it flew by. A squad of five grunts and a jackal were in the lobby of the Barracks. Jackals are lizard/bird-like creatures that walk around with plasma shields. I heard King yell, "Frag out!" A fragmentation grenade whizzed over my head, and landed in the middle of the grunts. I heard one say something like, "Oh sh—," and then was cruelly cut off by the explosion. The lobby was clear. On the other side, Lietenant Zachowski and his platoon Sergeant, Gunnery Sergeant Rich Hale, ran out of a door. I greeted them, "Good to see you, sir. Let's get to the Pelican!" "Damn straight, soldier." We ran out the door, just in time to see a Covenant Drop Ship take off. When I saw the Drop Ship, I wanted to laugh, and then its shade cannon blew a hole in the wall behind me. Zachowski yelled, "GET DOWN!" We all dove for cover. A Covenant Ghost sprayed fire on our position. Ghosts are basically hover bikes with plasma cannons. Hale got on the radio, "This is Gunny Hale, we need evac, now!" A cool, slightly Hispanic female voice came back over the net, "This is Pelican N342, we're en route to your position. Hold tight, guys." "Roger, N342."
About five minutes later, we'd held our positions. A rocket carreened into the ghost that had us pinned, and the bike exploded. A smiling Crew Cheif walked toward us, Rocket Launcher smoking, and looking calm as anything. "Hey, you guys need a lift?" We emerged from the rubble, and I replied, "Nope. We'll just sit here." The Crewman laughed, and replied, "Get onboard. We're getting' out of Dodge." We all piled in the Pelican, and left. The pilot came over the intercom, "We're heading toward the spaceport, and from there, we'll book a ride out. Wait a second... I got Banshees on my six! See if you can hit the grav pods!" "Roger that," Zachowski said. "Ok, Snipers, take aim, and shoot to kill." "SIR!" I unbuckled my belt, and went prone. I pulled down the bipod, and put my eye to the scope. I saw three banshees. "I've got center," I claimed. King followed suit, "I'll take right." Zachowski shouted, "Left is mine!" Plasma scorched the sides of the Pelican. I checked the elevation on my scope, and higlited the gravity pod. My Sniper Rifle confirmed it as an enemy, and I let loose. I missed with my first shot, but hit with my second. The Banshee spiraled out of control, and crashed into the one on the left. At that moment, King hit the one on the right. They became little more than a bad memory. The pilot came back on, "Damn, they hit our jump jets... We're gonna have to land the hard way now..." Zachowski's eyes went to pure terror. "Oh crap, men. Brace for impact!" We all grabbed on to something, and noted the severe decrease in altitude. We hit the ground hard, and out the back window, saw the spaceport. There was one human ship left, a frigate called Pueblo, and we ran toward it. The Mairne MP guarding it announced, "Hey, you guys aren't assigned to this ship." He seemed to be looking beyond us at something in the distance. Zachowski motioned to his Lieutenant's bar, and said, "We need to get of this God-damned rock. Let us on, this is the last UNSC ship left." The MP then looked at Zachowski, sighed, and let us on. He then came on, and closed the door. The ship wasn't too big, and there were only living quarters for about 18 passengers. I asked the MP, "So are we leaving now?" "Yes. I was waiting for my squad mates. I saw them gunned down as I was talking to you... So, you're with us now. We're part of 6th Marine MP Tactical Platoon." "Better than dead, friend. Better than dead."
The Frigate took off, and I went to sleep as soon as we got off the planet. I woke up to news that it had been glassed, and that did not please me in the least. King told me, "Grandma always said, 'After a great loss, a great gain is in the foreseeable future.'" "I don't think so, King, I really don't... We just keep losing..."
Chapter 4: The Foreseeable Future
Fast forward to 2552. Earth is under attack. I'm there, on the frontline. I took part in the battle of Havana, one of the major Earth battles. As you can probably tell by now, my specialty is jungle warfare. Disease, heat, bad weather, I'm used to all of 'em. After the loss in 2550, I was assigned as a Reserve Marksman. I was placed in the UNSC Reserves! This irritated me to no end. Lt. Zachowski assumed command of my platoon. It wasn't a bad platoon, but it wasn't a front line platoon, and certainly wasn't a sniper platoon.
We encountered the Covies bright and early, somewhere around 0400, Havana Standard Time. They blew the living crap out of our barracks, so right of the bat, half of our platoon was dead. I knew better. I strayed away, from the platoon, and looked for high ground. At that moment, I got a call on my radio. "Honore! Get back here!" "Negative, sir. I'm going for a sniper's position." Zachowski sighed on the other end of the radio, and then responded, "All right. But if you're wounded, it's not my fault. I'm sending King as your spotter." King ran up to me, missing his helmet. The rest of his body armor was still on. I told him, "Take that stuff off. It's too heavy. Keep the chest-plate, ditch the limb armor." King did as told. I also looked around, and removed a soft cap from a dead Marine. "Wear this. It'll keep the sun out of your eyes, when it comes up." King put the cap on, and didn't even notice the Staff Sergeant's bars on it. "All right, and now to find a rifle." You've got to remember, the whole time this is happening we're being shelled by the Covenant, so we're pretty uneasy. As we looked around the battlefield for a sniper rifle, we got an unusual call over the radio. "This is Warrant Officer James Rippon, of R434. We're going down. I'm marking a signal on the GPS. Any close units, respond." I took a look on my GPS. He was going to crash not even 300 yards from us. I forgot about the sniper rifle, and moved off toward the site. On the way, a Covenant Grunt jumped up, and shouted in a squeaky little voice, "Die, human!" I shut him up with a burst from my Assault Rifle. I noticed that King had acquired a shotgun, and had an SMG on his back. Then, we got to the place where the signal was. There was a Covenant Drop Ship. Immediately below it was a Covenant Elite. The lizard-like commander had a plasma pistol, and on the other end of it was a human. He saw us, and said something like, "You fell for ower traip. Bwahahaha!" A nearby jackal shot one plasma bolt through the poor human's head, and then aimed at us. I fired off half a magazine on rock-'n'-roll full auto, with no effect. The bullets just pinged off his shield. I stepped backward, and tripped over something. King went prone, and started firing with his SMG. I looked to see what I'd tripped over. It looked kind of like... It was! It was a Bolger '51 Custom, the Rolls Royce of Sniper Rifles. The Bolger Custom was basically a regular Sniper Rifle, with an 8 round magazine instead of a four round mag, and a Thermal Scope instead of night vision. It was heavier, but well worth it. The last final bonus to the Bolger Custom. Some of it's bullets were explosive tipped. You could tell by looking at the magazine. If it had a green stripe, it was regular. If it was a red stripe, then it was time for heavy duty. I threw away my Assault rifle, and looked at the Custom. The magazine in the rifle had a green stripe, and I grimaced, but set up the bipod anyway, and got a bead on the Elite's head. BAM! The Elite's head exploded. The Grunts and Jackals around him took one look, and dashed back into the drop ship. But I wasn't about to let them get away that easy. I radioed, "Hey, el-tee. We've got a Covie drop ship out here that could use the attention of a few of our Sky Hawks. I've marked the location with a GPS Grenade." A GPS grenade is a grenade that emits a GPS signal, and can be tracked. "Roger, they're en route." The covenant drop ship got about three meters off the ground, and then was blown to pieces by a Sky Hawk. King yelled, "Rot in Hell!"
The air cooled around us. I walked toward the wreckage of the downed Covenant ship. One of the Jackals was still alive. I raised my boot, and smashed the thing's head in. I noticed by it's markings it was the same one that did Rippon in. "What goes around comes around," I muttered. A shout came over the radio, "This is Havana Defense Unit 280. We're stuck in the Capitol building, and are under heavy fire! We need support!" I was about to speak when Lt. Zachowski took the words from my mouth, "We're on our way. King, Honore, meet us at RV point Delta Hotel 4356. All right, let's move out!"
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