Hunters - U.S. Snipers In The War On Terror Read online

  The MSPF team was elite among the MEU. The special unit combined four elements: command, assault, support, and security. The main effort among them was the assault element, a Force Recon platoon. At the time Force Recon was as close to Special Operations as the Marine Corps allowed. Together the MSPF team normally focused heavily on maritime operations, specifically direct action and reconnaissance. For them, assisting to secure the airfield would be no problem.

  Before deploying, Baker’s entire sniper team had passed the Marine Corps Special Operations Training Group’s urban sniper course. They had practiced shooting from helicopters and from rooftops and setting up in urban environments. They also had learned the intricacies of timed shooting and how to support the Force Recon marines before they raided targets. When the snipers graduated the course, they were designated as the primary MSPF sniper team.

  Working with the Force Recon team was enjoyable for Baker. They were professional and extremely good and had the best training. As their supporting sniper team, Baker’s men accompanied them on training operations, and Baker himself constantly provided precision fire. He had grown comfortable sending bullets past the men during training, and he knew that if a real situation called for it, he would be able to do the same.

  By the time the marines reached the coast of Pakistan, they were anxious to go. They were ready to secure the airfield and waited for the mission to begin. On the night of insert, Baker gathered his team on the ship’s flight deck, and they boarded CH-53 Super Stallions, each man carrying one hundred pounds of gear. Although Pakistan was a friendly nation, the threat of terrorism remained high, and the marines carried ammo and explosives. Baker packed a .50-cal sniper rifle, while his assistant team leader had an M40A1. Their element flew by night into the small coastal town of Pasni, Pakistan. There they quickly boarded an AC-130 airplane and flew the rest of the way into Jacobabad. On the plane, Baker considered himself lucky to have such a great team.

  His sniper team’s camaraderie was hard to duplicate. The assistant team leader was Connelly, from Nebraska, and his laid back attitude reminded Baker of a carefree surfer’s. Angelo, the team’s radio operator, grew up boxing and fighting in Philadelphia. He had a “never quit” attitude. Lastly was Arne from Seattle. He loved to drink beer. Baker enjoyed that his marines played hard, but more importantly, that they worked hard, especially at sniping.

  When their AC-130 landed, the marines went to work. Baker’s element immediately established a perimeter. Grunts applied concertina wire and dug into defensive positions, while the snipers moved atop a building and set about finding ranges to target reference points. The commander informed Baker, however, that he wanted the snipers primarily to observe the perimeter for people trying to infiltrate.

  The next morning, Baker stood face-to-face with the reality before him. Sunlight exposed the nearby city while the scent of burning garbage lingered in the air. In a haze, aged mosques and dusty brick buildings gave Baker the feeling that he was in a third world country, and when the call to prayer resounded through the city, it sent chills up his spine.

  He was roughly eight thousand miles from his hometown, Kalispell, Montana. Joining the Marines seemed natural after having grown up in the outdoors and witnessing how the Marines had shaped his brother, who had been assigned to Security Forces. Baker always enjoyed stories of those in the military, and after graduating high school early in 1998, he was shipped to boot camp.

  In Pakistan, the snipers kept security at the airfield for a month. Being there was bittersweet. Baker was glad that he was doing something other than sitting on ship, but holding security was nothing like combat. He wanted to be on the other side of the border, in Afghanistan, where all the action was.

  Soon other forces began to arrive at Jacobabad. Navy SEALs, Air Force personnel, and other members of the Fifteenth MEU slowly settled in. In that time Baker made friends with Marco, a Navy SEAL sniper. Typical of snipers, they talked about ballistics, range cards, tactics, and weapons. One day Marco stated that he was pushing forward into Afghanistan. He talked of a lone compound with guard towers. Only later did Baker find out that it was an airstrip that he and the others marines would help to seize.

  Entering the Fight

  Soon the marines from the Fifteenth MEU were directed to enter the war in Afghanistan. They fell under Task Force 58, with the mission to bring chaos to the remaining Taliban and al-Qaeda fighters in the south. They would establish the first American foothold in the country, known as Forward Operating Base Rhino, and from there would push out for follow-on missions. Their presence would mark the first conventional troops to enter the war. Until then, the only U.S. forces in the fight were derived from the United States Special Operations Command and other government agencies.

  When Baker learned he was heading in, anticipation and exhilaration were his only thoughts. As a trained sniper, he wanted to use all that he had been taught. It took a few days to fully settle on the idea of actually going into combat, but on November 24, Baker and his team prepared for Afghanistan. The marines from the Fifteenth MEU, in keeping with the agreement between the U.S. and Pakistan, were flown to their ships off the coast to avoid launching from within Pakistan.

  Task Force 58 flew into Afghanistan on the night of November 25, 2001, to seize FOB Rhino. Baker and his men carried combat loads; they had two M40A1 sniper rifles, a SAW, an M16 with a M203 grenade launcher, and multiple radios to cover every aspect of communications, to include satellite communications. This was the big show, and they knew that anything could happen.

  The journey covered 441 miles, and during the helicopter ride, Baker wondered what awaited them. He was informed that British Special Air Service had cleared that part of the country, and that little activity should be expected, but still it was Taliban territory, and the enemy could be waiting to ambush his group. Days earlier, however, a team of Navy SEALs had infiltrated the region to provide reconnaissance and surveillance for the marines. They, along with Air Force Combat Controllers, had secured a landing zone before the task force arrived.

  The CH-53s from the Fifteenth MEU swooped in hard and fast. When Baker’s bird touched down, the marines flooded off the back, immediately forming security around the battalion commander. A land of isolation met the marines, and all that Baker noticed was dirt and sand—and the cold.

  That night, Baker and the others held a perimeter, allowing more troops to move in. The next day, engineers arrived to clear the nearby buildings of booby traps and mines. When they finished, Baker’s team moved onto a rooftop. Within twenty-four hours, Task Force 58 had cleared and occupied Forward Operating Base Rhino; it was a statement to terrorists in the country that conventional U.S. troops were moving in and were ready to fight.

  Not long afterward, Baker’s team received their first combat mission. This being their first time operating in such an environment, the snipers were nervous. Their mission was relatively simple. They were sent out to provide early warning detection for the FOB. Baker had two concerns. First was about navigating the open desert with no significant terrain features to base their movement on. His biggest concern, however, was the ever dangerous and hidden land mines. Over and over, the marines were warned about the hazard of land mines and that Afghanistan was riddled with them.

  Before the snipers started their mission, Baker shot an azimuth with his compass, and the snipers patrolled on foot from the base. While they walked, Baker scanned his sector but cringed with every step. Everything they had been taught about patrolling was put to use, and after a short while, the snipers were in position.

  They set up on a hillside, but a sandy bluff stood between them and the road they were to watch. Baker and Angelo, the radio operator, cleared the bluff and began to dig in. Later, they heard more digging from nearby and radioed the battalion, asking if anybody else was out there, and found that other marines were nearby. That night, the only event that happened was that Navy SEALs sped by on the road with infrared strobe lights flashing from
their vehicles.

  The next missions were much the same. As forces built up at FOB Rhino, the snipers were given vehicles to operate with. Baker’s team was issued a Humvee to move out farther for early warning detection. Besides meaning they didn’t have to walk, the vehicle let them carry a week’s worth of chow, water, and ammo. For concealment, they positioned the Humvee in a crevice with camouflaged netting covering it. That week, the only thing they saw was camels with bells attached to their necks. Baker eventually realized that very few people lived in the Registan Desert and that they were not likely to find enemy fighters. The mission felt almost like a combined arms exercise in Twenty-nine Palms, California, but when they returned to base, Baker learned that his team was headed north.

  The snipers were directed to provide more early warning detection for a forward patrol base. They would be closer to Kandahar, a major city, and the possibility of action was better. That information motivated the snipers. They did not want their entire stay in Afghanistan to be dull. The snipers gathered their equipment and one night boarded CH-53s for a forty-five-minute ride north, before dismounting and setting up a small patrol base. It was more of holding security for Baker’s men, but they quickly discovered that they were needed to support an ambush on Route 1, a road leading into Kandahar. The intent was to stop or capture enemy fighters moving from the city.

  One Shot One Kill

  The anticipation of finally meeting the enemy kept Baker awake on the night of the mission. He and Arne rode inside a Light Armored Vehicle (LAV). Most of the MSPF team were in their element, and they had practiced for just such ambushes in training. The marines cut through the desert night for hours before reaching their destination around 0300 hours.

  Baker peered through the hull of his vehicle at the stars outside. More than anything, he was glad to finally be stopped. Outside, other marines began to form a blocking position on the two-lane road. Scouts from the LAVs dismounted and ran concertina wire across the pavement attaching chem-lights to the wire to warn traffic. Force Recon marines hid nearby, and when civilian traffic stopped, they would be the ones to pull the drivers and passengers from their vehicles. Baker would be covering them behind the rifle while the other marines held their distance.

  A few hundred meters from the road, Baker set up his shooting position. He rested his sniper rifle on his pack atop the LAV. The PVS-10 day/night sniper scope provided perfect sight, and he and Arne discussed the distance to the concertina wire. They also talked about how they would react if the marines made contact. Overhead, aircraft surveyed the road from Kandahar and warned the marines of an approaching convoy. Baker heard the radio transmission, and shortly thereafter, he saw headlights on the horizon.

  “We got a breeze from right to left, two miles per hour,” said Arne. It was not strong enough to change Baker’s windage.

  “What do you think is going to happen when the vehicles hit the wire?” Baker pondered.

  As the convoy approached, all the vehicles stopped in the distance except one truck. It proceeded to fly toward the concertina wire. Its headlights lit up Baker’s night vision, giving him a better view. The truck did not slow and drove over the wire, which became mangled on its undercarriage, forcing it to stop. Seconds passed before a man stepped from the right side door to examine the damage, but in a flash he climbed back in after noticing the Force Recon marines pulling onto the road behind them.

  As the Force Recon marines drew down on the men, Baker grew tense. He saw the marines yelling at two men in the bed of the truck who were covered in blankets. Suddenly the men jumped to their feet holding AKs, but the marines beat them to the trigger and opened fire.

  Immediately Baker prepared to shoot. Everything about his shooting position, including his bone support to his snug butt stock, was correct. He aimed at the left side of the windshield and calmly took a breath. He realized that this could be his one chance and it was now or never. The light was bright enough for him to see the windshield but not the men in the cab. He estimated their position before firing.

  The first shot, a cold-bore shot, might have been a few inches off at worst. After firing, it seemed that his first bullet did not get a reaction from the truck. The marines inside the LAV, however, yelled for him to cease fire, scared that his round would strike one of the other marines, but Baker knew the trajectory. He had trained with the Force Recon marines and had made shots like that before.

  Soon the truck was on fire. Bullets hit the gas tank, setting the vehicle ablaze and causing RPGs (Rocket-Propelled Grenades) to cook off. When it was fully engulfed, the man who had gotten out of the truck earlier exited again. Baker saw that his head and right shoulder were on fire. The man was still a threat, and Baker repositioned his crosshairs between the man’s shoulder blades. He had already chambered another round and lightly squeezed the trigger.

  The man fell instantly. He died on the road. Minutes later, the Force Recon marines moved forward and swept the area. When the smoke cleared, the marines had killed seven Taliban fighters, but their comrades drove off, only to be met with close air support. In the end more than twenty Taliban fighters were killed.

  The ride back to base was long for Baker. For seventeen hours, he thought about his first kill and the events that had happened. Though it was one engagement, it made Baker’s time in Afghanistan worth it. When they arrived at the forward operating base, the marines debriefed the situation. Baker explained his story, and it was speculated that with his first shot he had killed the driver. That was why he never exited the vehicle. Around camp, a marine from his LAV tossed Baker the two empty casings that he had used. Baker kept them as a memento.

  When the marines departed Afghanistan, Baker was satisfied with his time there. His role as a sniper covered surveillance, reconnaissance, and an engagement. He was one of the first Marine snipers to set foot in the country and to dispatch an enemy fighter. It was just the start of the war for conventional snipers, and for Baker, it was a success.

  FOUR

  SPEC-OPS

  IN the covert world of Special Operations, sniping is a highly regarded skill. Though it is one among many, snipers within Special Operations Forces know they will be called upon more often than not, especially when precision is needed. However, sniping is more than just shooting, and Spec-Ops warriors understand this better than any. In Afghanistan, two very different operators, a Navy SEAL and a Green Beret, experienced sniping and all its facets.

  Into the Blue

  Chris, a Navy SEAL, wanted sniper training. He could have chosen the Naval Special Warfare sniper school, but his friend, an instructor at the First Marine Division Scout/Sniper School, guaranteed him a slot if he chose to go there. When he asked his platoon chief, the salty SEAL advised against it.

  “You don’t want to do that. Do you realize that you are going to go up there, throw a rucksack on, and get beat? You’re going to be treated like dirt for ten weeks. Why would you want to do that?” asked his chief. He had been around long enough to know the reputation of U.S. Marines.

  “I just want to do it. I’ve always wanted to be a sniper, and I want to go to that school,” explained Chris.

  After a second, his chief replied, “OK. You’re an idiot, but go for it.”

  Chris could handle the games. After all, he had been a marine before. He had started his career as a Marine artilleryman and by his fourth year in, he had passed the reconnaissance screening, but because he was a 0811, field artillery cannoneer, he was denied entry into the special unit. It was not until he took his wife to the Hotel Del Coronado in San Diego for their anniversary and saw the “team guys” running by on the beach that he finally decided to pursue his childhood dream. In 1996 Chris attended Naval Special Warfare’s Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL training and started his journey to become a Navy SEAL.

  Four years later, he was back with the Marines, but this time it was different. He was one of two SEALs at the Marine sniper school. His class, 04-01, was the last one of the fiscal y
ear in 2001. It started in July, and for three months, Chris and the other SEALs played the games at sniper school, but did everything the SEAL way. During field week, while the marines drew pictures and field sketches of the objectives, Chris and his partner took pictures with high-powered cameras. While the marines loaded their packs with their heavy radios and other equipment, Chris used his special lightweight and compact issued gear that the Marines had not even heard of.

  By September, Chris had passed all the qualifications. He was two days from graduation, when on the morning of the 11th he pulled into the sniper school parking lot and an instructor stopped him, asking if he’d heard the news.

  “No, what’s up?” replied Chris.

  “We’ve just been attacked by terrorists,” said the marine.

  Chris strolled into the classroom to find the other students huddled around a radio. They listened in detail to exactly what had happened. The instructors handed out still photos of the planes crashing into the World Trade Center towers.

  The SEALs knew what to expect, and within hours there was a phone call. It was for Chris, and when he answered, the voice on the other end was serious and strict.

  “Petty Officer Osman, your platoon has been recalled.”

  This was not a drill, and the SEALs needed to report back to their team. Chris packed his gear. The marines asked him where he was going, but he could not talk about it. He said a final farewell and was gone.

  The ride to Coronado was full of anticipation. Chris wondered if this could finally be the call he had always dreamed about—the call to go to war. At his base, guards searched everyone, and a long line congested the road to get in. They questioned Chris about the weapons in his truck, but when they found out he was a SEAL, the guards let him in.