SOAR: A Black Ops Novel

Complete concealment wasn’t necessary, either. At night, the best way to keep a man from being seen was by following what the R&E instructors called the Quadruple-S Rule, the four being silhouette, shine, shape, and speed. Don’t silhouette yourself against the horizon; don’t allow any light to shine off you or your equipment; don’t allow the rectangular shape of your equipment to give you away, because there are virtually no naturally square shapes in nature; and don’t move so fast that your enemy’s peripheral vision will pick you up.

The last S-rule was perhaps the most important — and least understood. Without going into the technical elements, the way we see an object at night is different from the way we see that same object during the day. In daylight, light comes into the eye directly, moving from the lens back to the cone cells in the center of the retina. At night, it is our peripheral vision that dominates, because instead of hitting the cone cells of the retina, illumination is picked up by its rod cells, which are grouped around the periphery of the cones. That is why, on night patrol, constant scanning in a figure-eight, as opposed to a straight-on, left/right approach is utilized. At night, by always looking off center, you are much more likely to catch a piece of something than you are by staring straight at it. A quick or jerky motion, therefore, is much more likely to be observed at night because it “reads” more distinctly in a man’s peripheral vision.

2224. From the number two position, Ritzik watched as Gene Shepard worked his way up the road. The point man’s footfalls were absolutely silent, even though the gravel wasn’t being helpful. Sound was a unit’s biggest tactical problem at night. In the old days it had been the ability to see. But with miniaturized thermal imagers and fourth-generation NV readily available, darkness was no longer an impediment. In fact, Ritzik preferred fighting at night because he knew that his equipment was lighter, better, and more sensitive than anyone else’s. But sound and smell were still dead giveaways. Sound and smell told the enemy where you were — even how many of you there were.

At night, every sound is amplified. You can hear the scrape of metal against metal, the rasp of a man clearing his throat, or the click of a loose rock from two hundred yards away. How much smell can affect an operation was something Ritzik had learned in El Salvador. And one immediate result had been that he made sure none of his men ever used any scented products in the field. But there was more: sweat, food, even web gear could actually give a man’s presence away. The odor of a cigarette, for example, can carry as far as a football field if the wind is right.

Eighty yards ahead, Gene Shepard moved slowly, cautiously, deliberately, his suppressed weapon carried in low ready, his trigger finger indexed alongside the receiver, scanning through his NV as he went. He made his way through a slight depression, then inched up the incline on the far side. As he drew closer to the crest, he slowed his pace even more, lowering his body to keep himself from making a silhouette. Finally, he dropped onto the ground and, with his weapon held in both hands, he proceeded at a crawl.

At the ridgeline, the point man froze. After a half minute he clambered slowly backward, below the crown. There, his right arm extended straight from the shoulder, his gloved hand a fist.

The eight others froze where they were. Now Shepard’s thumb extended from his fist — thumb up — and his hand quickly inverted, thumb pointed at the ground.

It was the silent signal for “enemy seen or suspected.”

Ritzik’s hands told the element to deploy to the left side of the road. There was more cover available to the left than to the right. Moreover, splitting the force could prove hazardous if there was any shooting, with the two groups firing directly at each other.

The men moved quickly, camouflaging their footprints with branches as they backed away from the rutted track. Ritzik kept his head up long enough to make sure they’d all cleared. He slid his pistol out of its thigh holster and attached the suppressor to the threaded barrel. Then he settled down behind a clump of bushes perhaps sixty yards off the road and eased the Sig’s hammer rearward. Ty Weaver lay next to him, the dull muzzle of the sniper rifle’s silencer poking through the thorns.

Ritzik pushed the transmit switch on the radio. “Shep — how many?”

“Uno.” Gene Shepard’s whispered voice came back in his ear. “Half a klik away and approaching on foot.”

“Armed?”

“Affirmative.”

They’d have to wait this one out. Ritzik looked at his watch. It was already past the half hour. If they didn’t start setting the ambush by twenty-three hundred…

He didn’t want to think about the consequences.