Borderline: An Oral History of the Brexit Wars 2020-2022

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Heartrate 102. The pair had just arrived in between the gorse bushes, off to the left of the thicket as viewed from the target and with three other, more obvious, locations to hide between them and the man they came to see. The crawl into position denoted effort and this was reflected in the beats per minute on the Corporal’s wrist. It would come down as he controlled his breathing. They were settling in now, the sniper and spotter were camouflaged, ahead of time and securely out of sight of prying eyes. Stillness, now, and self control were the name of the game. Rather than shrug his shoulders in a normal fashion to relax and potentially make an observable movement, he rolled them down and around to the front in a circle. Tilting his head to the right slightly, he looked down along his nose to the left at the other man sharing their small hide. The spotter, ten years senior to his twenty six, already had his scope, which resembled a stubby telescope on a short tripod, up on their objective and was lying immobile. The sniper made a comparatively large motion to lift the stock of his bolt action rifle and brought his cheek down to it, allowing his right eye to look through the sights at the small farm house four hundred metres to the front of their observation post and here his focus would stay for the remainder of the job.

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