Vetterli 71 Karabiner Deadeye
VETTERLI 71 KARABINER DEADEYE. (See also, VETTERLI 71 KARABINER, SHARPSHOOTERS) The Vetterli, by default, has tangent iron sights. This gives it some capability for long range. However, that does not mean a telescopic sight was not uncommon. This would further facilitate the accuracy of a shooter to a further distance While other Vetterli rifles were specifically manufactured for snipers, the Karabiner proved itself suitable in a number of situations. The one disadvantage of using such a weapon is that the Vetterli fired black powder cartridges. The latest development was smokeless cartridges, which wouldn't leave a telltale cloud of smoke at the sniper's position. After several shots, the Vetterli would do this, requiring that the sniper either have already killed their target, or be ready to re-position. Fortunately, thanks to high power and accuracy, the former case usually prevailed.
Interview with Leander Coetzee
Interviewer: AHA member
Date: Redacted
Typewritten, questions omitted (...), 8.5in x 11in
3/4
Samson trusted me immediately. The height of Summer, and we were both working the docks, finding hungry men and pressing them into duty. We trained them with firearms, warned them of dangers, and sent them into the swamp. One thing I could never stomach, the bayonet
The wound in my shoulder ached every time we lined the recruits to drill with a bayonet charge. In the war, I'd never done it. But I'd been on the other end of one. I was a kid, laying on my back. The huge Brit was stood above me, twisting the rifle. My shoulder splitting into two. The bayonet hilt coming towards my body.
We took Grunts. Lurching and dropping maggots out their wounds. We tied them to trees. The recruits would charge them, shouting war cries. I was the grunt, always, when they hit and it's body shuddered. If they were more human, they would have screamed, and inside, I always screamed.
The recruits were splattered with blood and moths. One kid got infected from that. We tied him up too. Another went feral, stabbing a grunt a hundred times until its head was mess of pulp.
I never trained. I never could get through that memory. But I still kept the bayonet fixed. The only time I used it was an accident. Samson was missing, I was tracking him. To an old house. In the dark, one of the Armored ones charged me. I leveled my rifle and held it firm. The Armored hit and the bayonet went to the hilt. I held the rifle firm, level, steady, as it lunged and grasped at me, but not reaching. Pushing. It slid me across the floorboards, until the Vetterli stock hit the rear wall. The Armored was still grasping at me, stuck fast on the blade.
Pinned between the wall and the armored, I worked the bolt. The first shot splintered the already shattered plate. The Armored groaned and leered in closer, its tilted head gnashing up at me. I recognized it then. Samson. I kept firing.
