Sarah 12

Sarge and I have done endless practice rounds. Each lane is its own enclosed bunker, so one person's errant shot doesn't affect a neighbor's score.
Our official scoring round is scheduled in Lane 3, 9:00 am for me and 10:00 for Sarge. I'll lead off, with her my official timekeeper.
An officer will meet us there, sign as official officer witness.
We enter to discover a General and the Defence Minister awaiting.
As I do my pre-round stretch routine, I ponder. Generals have no authority to authorize an incursion; are bound strictly by rules of "hot pursuit". The mere fact of the presence of the Defence Minister means they're thinking of going outside The Wall.
I shrug, an icy pre-combat calm comes over me. I feel more alert, more in my own skin.
I take position, quietly ask Sarge to press the starter.
At uncertain intervals of time, distance and lighting condition, Palestinian holograms pop up. I sense myself to be only slightly better than par, slight improvement in my timing and angle shots.
I'm completely floored when the score card pops out; 9,925 out of 10,000 with the comment it is the highest ever score in the 25 year history of this particular virtch.
Nonchalantly I hand the card to the General to sign, see his eyes go like saucers; as do the Defence Minister's.
As I watch Sarge in action, I feel a sense of shame. Her timing and calculation of angles are so much better than mine, it's beyond belief.
She scores 9,998, with the comment she is now the record holder.
The Defence Minister is obviously choking back the desire to yell "yippee" like a little boy. Instead, sober tone, "both of you are Confined to Base for 30 days. If you haven't heard anything by Day 31, free to resume any off duty travel."
Once outa earshot, Sarge says darkly, "what an ***-****! What a complete and utter donkey's ass!"
"How so?"
"CB? Boyfriend will kill me over this. Worse yet, maybe even find someone else."
I stare into the distance, uncertain of what to say.
Finally, she gives a wan smile, "there is a hope after all. His sister likes me, feels I'm a good influence on him. So, maybe she'll help, you know keep an eye on him. Invite him for family Sabbath dinner, that sorta thing."
"Excellent idea Sarge."
"Guesses where boyo is sending us?"
"Lebanon."
"Grow up, everyone knows that, where in Lebanon?"
"No idea."
She whispers, "inside rumor is a bank job on Hezbollah. Leave em broke, unable to meet monthly payroll. Put heat on their morale."
I gasp, "Sarge, that's against the law, our side would never do that."
Bitter smile, "remember the scar?"
I nod.
"Bank job in Syria."
I gasp, then, "did it work?"
"Yes and no. Yes, mission accomplished. No in that it was a lot less money than anticipated."

There are three present, Sarge, myself and the same General.
Polite, "today, background info only. Exact details of the incursion will be shared out later. Now we looked for two things in choice of people. First, decent shooting. Second, a non-Israeli, non-Jewish look. One of you out Germans the Germans with that Haredi look. Other, classic American look, two American born parents. Neither of you would excite any attention in any crowd of North American or European whites. Both of you could pass muster as members of a neoNazi hate group.
Wicked smile, "and that is exactly what you will masquerade. Now Israeli helmets and body armor are distinctive, so forget those. Use American make, every country on earth has some, plus a lot of private organizations.
"Blue jeans are universal to the human experience, as are American brand hiking boots for civvies.
"Faces, done with green camo paint, make you so your own mother wouldn't recognize you. On top of the green paint, we'll have a white painted swasika on each cheek. After all, they'd reason no Hebe on earth would wear such a symbol. As well, Hezbollah and the neoNazi drug mafia in Beirut are at loggerheads.
"Four pods will be needed. All four will be standard camo. Again, every country on earth plus a lot of private organizations use American make pods. So, just paint over those Israeli symbols and replace with - what else - swastikas and Iron Crosses.
"The Uzi blaster has a remarkably similar appearance to H&K, Hochler and Koch. All it takes is sculpting on a few tiny plastic pieces and no one will know it's an Uzi.
"We come in over the Med, use radar and visual cloaking until we're in the target's back pocket."
General pauses as if expecting questions.
Sarge clears her throat, "and what do you wish of us?"
"Two minutes of your time. There will be two men to take down, by means violent or non, your choice. We even aim to offend Hezbollah."
"How so?"
"In your wildest dreams, can you imagine an organization as macho as Hezbollah actually admitting to being taken by mere women?"
We all laugh heartily.
General smiles, "I didn't come empty handed. Score what we want, it's field commissions for both of you, Lt and Capt."
Sarge grins crookedly, "cyanide tablets too. Guess what happens if this goes sour."
The General nods, shudders.