Day 1,872 : Operation Gaucho

Day 1,873, 07:30 • Published in Belgium Belgium • by RooieLente

My insertion point was in the Northwest of Argentina, a few clicks from San Salvador de Jujuy. As the zodiac beached the pebble shore, the early morning mists slowly rolling out of the patches of jungle muffled any sound we might have made. I quickly vanished into the thick foliage, setting course for my first waypoint in the hillside.

I knew I had to get out of these jungles as quickly as possible. As the day would progress, not only the heat would rise, but the growing discomfort of both insects and Argentinian river patrols could jeopardize this mission.

To my relief, I reached the edge of the rocky hillside quickly...knowing these beaches would soon be shelled repeatedly by our Chilean allies was not something I wished to witness close-by. Instead, I started my slow, long climb for a higher level, making sure I pressed close to the mountain walls, in order to keep in the shadows and avoid detection.

It was about 1406 hours when I finally found the vantage point I was looking for. The red gravel of these mountains had stained my battledress already, turning it into the perfect camouflage for a long wait in this blistering heat. As I set up my rifle in between some thorny bushes and took a last few long sips from my canteen, I could hear the echoes of the first shells hitting the beach.



I waited...the Argentinian outpost in my sights.

I had no idea how long my wait took me. Sweat slowly trinkled down my face, a cramp had firmly settled in my left leg and I had been bothered by curious lizards on several occasions already. But it paid off....

At first, it seemed a small cloud of dust, moving up the mountain path. A little later, the outlining of an army jeep became clear. The fact the men at the gate saluted as the jeep passed hinted my wait was indeed over.

As the colonel exited the jeep, more men saluted and I slowly, lazily almost, drew a bullet into the chamber. I adjusted my sights....wind speed, direction, velocity, distance...gravity.

A single shot, the echo a thousandfold in these mountains. The men scattered as the officer fell to the ground. I checked....a clean shot.
I slowly crawled backwards, the ants' nest the camp had become, in disarray. I quickly relocated and started my arduous journey to the next waypoint, the distant rumbling telling me the Chileans were sending their tanks deeper into the land.