Aberrant: In the Beginning - Range Day (Complete)

[Katalyst]

Settling himself in a good firing position, Jay glanced over his shoulder at the lane grader crouched behind his firing point and gave the man a thumbs-up. “Anytime your ready, Sergeant.” The junior cadre NCO, in turn, gave the NCO in charge the high sign.

Even before the first target appeared Jay decided to aim low. This being a weapon he hadn’t zeroed the rifle he was using, he needed to determine what sort of sight picture he’d need to take up in order to hit with any degree of consistency. By aiming low, if he did miss the round would strike the ground in front of the target, kicking up a bit of dust or dirt as it did so and thus marking its precise point of impact. By recalling the sight picture he taken prior to squeezing the trigger and mentally noting where the round actually struck, Jay would then be able to calculate a proper “aim off” that he could apply when sighting on the rest of the targets.

The rest of the drill he’d need to use was rather standard and familiar to anyone who had ever spent time on a small-arms range. As he waited he mentally ran through the list of pointers that had been drilled into him by the NCOs who had trained him to shoot. Don’t tense up while waiting for the targets to appear, lest the strain of doing so prematurely exhaust you and lead to wobbly arms and a drop-of in accuracy. Keep both eyes open and scan the entire depth and width of the firing lane for targets. Do not become fixated on a single point downrange lest you miss catching sight of a target that suddenly appears outside of your narrow field of vision. When a target does appear smoothly bring your weapon t bear, take up a good sight picture, watch your breathing, and remember to hold a bit of breath in your lungs before you begin to squeeze the trigger.

In the twinkling of an eye these disjointed thoughts evaporated as the first target sprang up from behind its well-concealed berm. It was a close one, a real give me situated somewhere around one hundred meters or so from the firing line. An easy mark, Jay though as he aimed and fired. Even so, his first shot struck just in front of the target. But the fates were with him. While it was impossible to tell if the round had somehow managed to skip up and through the target or it’s sensors mistook the shower of debris thrown up by the near miss as the impact of an actual round, the computer program read the results as a solid hit and ordered the target down, recording its total lapsed time of exposure.

The second set of targets sprang up it was a pair, another close one and a second in the distance at a range of three-hundred meters plus. This awkward spread served notice that the picnic was over. Confidant that he now had a fair idea of the amount of aim-off he’d need to apply when sighting, Jay engaged the close-in target without having to give much thought to what he was doing. His second shot rang out, ripping through the olive-drab silhouette target that vaguely resembled a man’s upper torso and head.

[Katalyst]

In the bleachers, SPC Smith one of Jay’s buddies let out a murmur of approval when he saw the close-in target quiver. “He got the first one,” he muttered as all eyes turned to the three-hundred-meter target.

Even before the near target began to drop Jay brought the muzzle of his weapon to bear upon the far target. This one would demand his full attention, his strict adherence to each and every steady hold principle he’d ever learned. This shot would be a much better test of his skills, guesswork, and luck. When all was set, when the rifle was firmly planted in his shoulder with his cheek resting on the weapon’s cool plastic stock, Jay stopped exhaling before all the air in his lungs we gone. Ready, he squeezed the trigger for a third time.

In the tower just behind the firing line, the assistant training NCO ignored everything but the computer monitor before him. When the “Hit” indicator lit up, he cried out with an enthusiasm that irked the senior NCO. “He’s got it! This boy is hot.”

Quickly the target’s came on, close, far and midrange. There were no more singles, no easy groupings. Their location on the range scattered and the timing of their appearance was totally random. Realizing that he would never be able to them all on, Jay opted to go for those that were closer. This gave him the ability to engage them quicker without having to take the time to take up a perfect sight picture as he would have needed to if he had opted for the seemingly smaller long-range target. Now all that he concerned himself with was pointing at the center of mass of each target he elected to engage, dropping his aim point down a bit and to the left to compensate for the corrected sight picture, and fire. He didn’t bother to count the number he had knocked down. He didn’t waste any time wondering when there would be a break. He correctly guessed that there would be no pause until he ran out of ammo.

Jay now found himself caught in a OODA Loop, pronounced by the Air force fighter pilots who coined the phrase. “Ooo Da.” It stood for observe-orient-decide-act. In Jay’s case this translated to observing a target, deciding when he had a good sight picture, and acting by shooting at it. There was no escaping the loop, not as long as there were targets. This endless cycle continued unabated as he observed the effect of his last round, thus starting the process all over again by reengaging when he missed or moving unto a fresh target. The only interruption came when he squeezed the trigger and in place of the distinct “pop” M-16’s are noted for and the slight nudge against his cheek and shoulder, he heard a sharp “click” as the hammer leaped forward, hit the firing pin, and sent it thrusting forward into an empty chamber. When that happened, he’d withdraw his trigger finger from the trigger housing, reach forward with it to the magazine release while fishing for a fresh magazine with his right hand. All this was executed with far more grace and ease than Jay’s harried mind could have imagined at that moment.

Up in the bleachers the other soldiers gathered watched in awe at Jay’s firing. Smith smiled at their words. When one said that he could do the same, Smith could only laugh. “That’s bull and you know it. He’s cooler than a January day. I’d like to see you crank out hits like he is.”

This muted debate ragged on until the firing suddenly ceased for good. Though there were targets still showing and more popping up every second, Jay backed away from the pile of sandbags he was nestled behind, rolled over to one side, and shouted out, “AMMO!”

In the tower the assistant instinctively hit the pause button on the keyboard, freezing the exercise and all results. After getting the high sign from the assistant instructor who had been overwatching Jay that he was, in fact, out of ammunition and his weapon was placed on safe the senor NCO glanced over at the monitor’s screen and studied the results of the exercise. He took the print out as soon as it printed and made for the firing line where the safety NCO was checking Jay’s weapon before allowing him to leave the firing line. He handed the score card to Jay. “It goes without saying soldier, you qualified.”