Prisoner in Time (Time travel) (21 page)

Sgt. Cooper watched in disgust as Geoff now searched inside the bag with both hands. Relief swept over him when his fingers curled around a tiny metal object. Pulling out the primer cap, he quickly placed it on the firing assembly, then brought the gun to his side.

“Forty-eight seconds!” shouted Sgt. Cooper to Geoff. “Where in bloody hell did you learn to shoot? I know men with one arm who can load faster than you.”

“Sorry, Sgt. Cooper, but I’ve never shot one of these before,” Geoff responded, his answer sounding feeble to the frustrated sergeant.

“Well boy, you better learn faster else a fast loadin’ Yank ‘ill shoot your ass off,” he shouted. Addressing the group as a whole, he commanded, “Now discharge your weapons and reload. Fire at the targets down yonder.”

He drew his long-bladed Bowie knife from his sheath and pointed down the field toward a series of posts embedded in the ground. As he stepped off to the side, his eyes were glued to the targets fifty yards away.

Almost in unison, ten men fired their weapons. Most missed their mark. One man hit the post nearly dead center at its top. Splinters of wood fragmented outward as the bullet impacted the target and shattered.

Instantly, Sgt. Cooper shot Geoff a puzzled stare.

“Boy, was that y’alls bullet?” he shouted, his tone sounding angry.

Geoff felt heat radiate from his face as he was called out in front of the group. From his perspective, the top of the target he hit suffered considerable damage and now he wondered if he were in some form of trouble.

“I’m not sure, Sgt. Cooper,” he replied, hoping his vague answer would send the sergeant looking elsewhere.

“Probably just lucky, I reckon,” the sergeant responded, then shouted loudly, “Y’all watch me load my weapon. Y’all pay a close watch on my hands, ya here? Don’t miss nothin’. This is how y’alls is a’pposed to do it.”

With his own rifle in hand, the sergeant worked swiftly through the reloading procedure, calling out important points as he went. Confidently, skillfully, he completed the task in just under fifteen seconds. The men stood in awe as he called out his time. Before anyone could think, he took a step forward, raised his weapon to the ready and fired, hitting a small knot on a wooden post fifty yards away. Stunned silence fell over the group of soldiers.

“Y’all just seen the correct way to load and fire a rifle. A good soldier can fire off three to four rounds in a single minute, accurate, while under fire. Right now, y’all ain’t worth a boil on a Yank’s ass, but in two days’ time, they won’t be worth a boil on your’n. Let’s get to work,” he shouted.

Drawing his long knife from his sheath, he pointed it toward the posts downrange and shouted his next command:

“RELOAD AND FIRE!”

-----*-----*-----*-----

As the hours ticked by, under the watchful eye of the sergeant, the group of soldiers was slowly transformed into skilled marksmen. Able to reload their weapons in twenty seconds or less, they were fast. Although the accuracy of the group was improved to acceptable levels, one man’s skill stood out from the rest.

Sgt. Cooper stood behind Geoff and watched him shoot. The teen loaded his weapon, aimed and struck the center of his target every fifteen seconds. With each shot, the sergeant shook his head in amazement.

“Dang Private, that there is some fine shootin’. How ‘bout we give y
’all a challenge?”

Geoff nodded reluctantly.

“Let’s set up some targets out yonder… say one at a hundred yards and another at a hundred-fifty yards.”

“Yes Sir, Sgt. Cooper,” Geoff replied simply.

“Them Yanks don’t suddenly appear at fifty yards. Y’all ‘ill see them rats a’coming from miles away.”

“Yes Sir, Sgt. Cooper,” Geoff replied again.

“Private, bring around the wagon,” he yelled to a distant soldier.

Moments later, the private pulled up with the duty wagon, carrying supplies for the days training session. He hauled back on the reins and stopped the horse in front of Sgt. Cooper. Instantly, the sergeant hopped up onto the buckboard, grabbed the reins from the private and sped off. Within fifteen minutes, the two returned and two new targets were placed.

“Ok Private, load you’re weapon and shoot that there target at a hundred yards, ya here?,” the sergeant ordered.

Pulling out Geoff’s Timex, he watched with great anticipation.

“On my mark,” he shouted from behind. “LOAD AND FIRE!”

Instantly, Geoff got to work loading his weapon. Like a well oiled machine, he placed the powder, ball and cap in just under fifteen seconds. He raised his rifle, cocked the hammer, briefly aimed and fired. Far out in the distance, the wooden post splinted and fell to the ground.

“Next target!” Sgt. Cooper commanded loudly.

Stunned by the sudden request, Geoff paused momentarily, then quickly reloaded his rifle. With the target now one hundred and fifty yards away, it was much too far for straight-line aiming. He paused for a second and thought about the two variables that would affect his shot: wind and gravity. Bringing the rifle to the firing position, he looked down the sights and took aim. Off in the distance, he noticed a slight breeze blowing the grass from left to right. In his mind, he knew the bullet would be blown off course. He aimed slightly to the left to compensate for the wind. As he looked at the target, he knew the bullet would never reach its mark due to gravity. Slowly, he raised the barrel to compensate for it. Holding the barrel steady, he exhaled slowly and squeezed the trigger.

Instantly, the weapon roared to life. White smoke filled his vision just beyond the barrel as the burned powder discharged out the end. Standing on both sides of him, a loud cheer was sounded.

“That’s remarkable shootin’ there, Private,” Sgt. Cooper shouted loudly. “If that were a Yank, ya would’ve kilt ‘im.”

“Yes Sir, Sgt. Cooper,” Geoff replied proudly.

“You have a regular sharp shooter here, Sarge,” one of the privates commented.

“I’ll say we have. Dang son, ya might be useful after all.”

Geoff grinned ear to ear, proud of his new found skill. As several of the other soldiers slapped his back in praise, he looked over at David to see his reaction. David stood with his arms crossed and his face had lost all expression.

“I’m a sharp shooter. Cool, huh?” Geoff yelled over to David, now standing back from the crowd.

David stared back at Geoff. With obvious disgust, he uttered one word:

“Swell.”

-----*-----*-----*-----

With training complete for the day, the two marched slowly back to their tent. David was strangely quiet as Geoff chatted away.

“Man, I wish my dad could’ve seen me today. I was on fire. He taught me how to shoot, you know,” he said, glancing over to David briefly, then continuing. “He used to take my brother and me shooting all the time, although we used to shoot clay pigeons and not with a black powder gun. We used shotguns.”

He looked to David for a moment. As David walked, he winced slightly from his wound, but remained quiet. Geoff continued with his story.

“I wonder if they have shotguns. They must have shotguns. I wonder why they don’t use ‘em,” he said in quick succession.

He glanced again at David, then continued, “Man, I can’t wait to shoot again. Wasn’t today a lot of fun?”

“Swell… just swell.”

Geoff stopped a moment and stared at David, quietly making a protest. David ignored the teen and kept limping along the road between the rows of tents.

“Dude, what’s the deal with you? Why are you acting like such a baby?” Geoff blurted in frustration.

David stopped. He took a deep breath and winced again. As Geoff caught up beside him, he stared back in mild anger.

“What’s your problem, man? Ever since I showed you up at the shooting range, you’ve been giving me the cold shoulder. What are you, jealous because I’m doing better than you or something?”

David shook his head in disgust.

“Well
Dude
, I’d say you did a great job today at complicating our task.”

“What do you mean?” Geoff asked, his expression instantly changing from antagonistic to surprise.

“What the hell were you thinking out there today? Sharp Shooter? Holy crap man, could you have proved yourself anymore useful to these guys today? Maybe you should have told the sergeant you’d wipe his ass for him too. You’d be his favorite. Hell, he’d never forget you then.”

David paused and let his message sink in. As Geoff began to realize his mistake, David continued:

“We’re trying to keep a low profile and stay out of the line of fire, remember? You just made things a lot more difficult. Let me ask you this… when it comes to fighting, who do you think is more valuable: a sharp shooter or a common soldier?”

“A sharp shooter,” Geoff responded dryly.

“Yeah… so now you’re part of a small and elite group… one that’s easy to keep track of. You’ve now made the task of developing and carrying out a secret plan just that much harder. Geoff, I know it’s a thrill being good at something, but this is definitely NOT the time to prove that skill.”

Geoff’s face lost expression. He felt embarrassed and stupid.

“Sorry man, I guess I just wasn’t thinking. Maybe I can just pretend it was all just a fluke… that I just got lucky out there today and shoot really bad tomorrow.”

“No way… they won’t buy it for one second. If you start missing, they’ll know you’re up to something,” David countered. “No, you’re going to have to keep putting in the same performance.”

“So what do we do now?” he asked, considering the impact on his plan to save Bobby.

“I don’t know yet. We’re just going to have to watch and see how this all plays out,” David responded. “But from this time forward, keep a low profile.”

Geoff acknowledged his message with a nod. As the two continued on toward their tent, Geoff spoke:

“So, what did you think of my shooting?”

“You were amazing,” David said with a smirk.

-----*-----*-----*-----

For the next two weeks, David and Geoff trained as soldiers, drilling for hours in battle procedures and commands. From marching and formations, to care of weapons, no time was wasted preparing the new recruits for battle. Although David’s wound slowed his progress at first, by the end of the second week, he barely took notice of the pain.

Each night, as the day came to a close, the two huddled around their campfire, ate their meager rations and sipped their coffee. Even before the bugler sounded out evening Taps, exhaustion forced them both early to bed…

David stared into the glow of the crackling fire and yawned. Looking into his tin, he swirled his coffee several times and contemplated drinking the remaining contents. Holding the metal cup out in front of him, he carefully came to a standing position. With another great yawn, he stretched out his arms, accidentally spilling the contents on the ground.

“Well, I guess that struggle is over,” he said.

“What struggle,” Geoff asked, his own concentration now broken from the fire.

“I was struggling over whether or not I should toss that load of swill.”

Geoff smiled blandly and replied, “It sure ain’t Starbucks.”

“I’m not sure if I’d even classify it as coffee. What the hell did they make this stuff out of, Acorns?” he joked.

“I just figured they scraped the crud off a bunch of shoes, dumped it in a sack and called it coffee,” Geoff continued with the humorous line.