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

by Milo S. Afong

  At the time, Pasciuti was an unlikely veteran at twenty-one years old. Normally, Sunnyvale, California, the heart of Silicon Valley and Pasciuti’s hometown, produced tech-savvy software designers, different from what he wanted to become. He knew right away after 9/11 that becoming a Marine was his destiny, and by the time he could legally drink beer, he had become a product of the First Marine Division Scout/Sniper School.

  Physically, he was not the most gifted, but what he lacked in strength, he made up for in heart. This was a trait that followed him through his challenges in the Marine Corps. It helped him to get past boot camp and into the Dark Horse, Third Battalion, Fifth Marines as a rifleman. In 2003, it also helped him through his first taste of combat.

  During the invasion of Iraq, Pasciuti used the M203 40mm single-shot grenade launcher. When his unit crossed the border into Iraq, his young-man perception of war and glory soon faded, and the reality of death and fighting wracked his nerves.

  There in Iraq, he experienced a pivotal moment in his life. He witnessed Marine snipers in action one day when his company moved to destroy a suspected terrorist training camp on their way to Baghdad. Pasciuti, watching enemy muzzle flashes from the camp, had taken cover behind a dirt mound when suddenly, a few yards away, two Marine snipers appeared and began targeting the shooter. Their weapons and equipment were different, but what intrigued the infantrymen was their calm demeanor.

  The two snipers easily found their target and Pasciuti never forgot what he saw next. The snipers tracked the enemy soldier while Pasciuti looked on through his four-powered ACOG (Advanced Combat Optical Gun Sight). The distance seemed astounding to Pasciuti. It was more amazing when the marine put a bullet in the soldier’s head, causing him to crumble forward. The snipers’ precision awed Pasciuti, and the next morning when the marines swept through the camp, he came across the dead soldier still lying there. At that moment his goal was to be as lethal and precise as the snipers he had witnessed. He wanted to become a HOG.

  When the marines returned home, Paciuti’s role changed to that of company clerk. It was miserable for him, but he soon found a way out through the scout/sniper indoc. The company first sergeant initially refused his request for sniper school, but when the company gunny heard of it, he gave Pasciuti the advice of his life.

  “Listen here,” he said, “I’m not going to tell you what to do, but every man is responsible for his own destiny. If you’re not here on Monday morning, I’ll know where you’re at.”

  Pasciuti took full advantage of the tryout. It began at 0300 on Monday morning and lasted less than a week, but in that time the numbers dwindled from forty to less than twenty. Though pushed to his physical and mental limits, Pasciuti held strong. This paid off with his acceptance into the platoon. It was an unimaginable honor, and he vowed to show that he was worthy of the selection.

  Soon afterward, the sniper platoon mustered for a battalion formation. Everyone was told about the four-man sniper team killed in Ar Ramadi, Iraq. It was a somber day for the snipers. Some of them knew others snipers in the Second Battalion, Fourth Marines, a sister battalion which they often trained with. When he heard the news, Pasciuti knew right away that he never wanted anything like that announced about him.

  In late 2004, his second deployment landed him in Fallujah. His team, Banshee Two, was led by Sergeant Blake Cole, and after knowing him, Pasciuti saw Sergeant Cole as one of the most complete and intelligent snipers he had ever met. Cole taught Pasciuti more about sniping than anyone else. It definitely helped that his instruction took place in the city of Fallujah, a snipers’ dream-land at the time. Training covered everything from urban hides and patrolling, multiple target engagement, to enemy observation while on the job fighting real bad guys. That experience made Pasciuti successful during sniper school.

  When he returned home, Pasciuti was given a shot at First Marine Division Scout/Sniper School. He had a plan; he wanted to go through the school unnoticed, but unfortunately one of the instructors took a liking to him. Anywhere else, this would have been beneficial, but for sniper school, it meant that he would become more physically fit.

  By the end of the course, his heart and perseverance were rewarded. Pasciuti received the prestigious “Honor Graduate” award for the highest grade point average of the class. He was also chosen to receive the “Instructor’s Choice” award, which is presented to the marine whom the instructors choose as the top all-around sniper.

  After graduation, Pasciuti returned to his unit and began training for Iraq. Excitement about the next deployment buzzed among the team because of the quality of all their teammates. Sergeant Jimmy Proudman, the team leader, brought a strong leadership presence as the most seasoned sniper and had the confidence of his entire team. Pasciuti was the assistant team leader, with Scardino and Ramsey rounding out the team. The four of them were all school-trained snipers with combat experience. Pasciuti was excited to deploy as a HOG. Little did he know that all of his training and experience would help him to make history.

  Counter-Sniper

  In early 2006, Pasciuti returned to Iraq. His unit arrived and stayed at Camp Fallujah before moving fifteen miles south to the town of Al Amiriyah. This rural town had welcomed displaced Fallujah residents during Pasciuti’s last trip to Iraq in 2004. When the marines arrived, the hold of al-Qaeda on the locals in Iraq began to slip after the people recognized the insurgents’ disregard for innocent life.

  Al Amiriyah is where Pasciuti formed his fondest memories of sniping. His team anxiously set out, wasting no time before running missions. Days after they arrived, though, bad news hit the battalion when two marines died from an IED; one had been a friend of Pasciuti’s since boot camp. The marine took shrapnel in the neck and died instantly. It was a tough blow for everyone. The death of his friend was heart-wrenching, and Pasciuti couldn’t shake the thought of it. He just hoped for a chance to spot IED layers.

  That afternoon, his team set up with the infantry in an observation position close to the spot of the explosion. He was focused on the road while making small talk with Jimmy. A dust storm had formed on the horizon when, near the road, two men appeared carrying what looked to be cinder blocks. The two snipers focused in, and when one of the men began to dig, Pasciuti called the situation to higher, requesting permission to engage.

  When they received clearance, both Jimmy and Pasciuti took aim. They used different sniper rifles; Pasciuti clutched the newer MK11, preferring its semi-auto ability, while Jimmy used the more traditional bolt action M40A3.

  At three hundred yards, the IED culprits were not a difficult shot. Pasciuti put his crosshairs center mass on the man bending over, placing the bomb in the ground. Jimmy kept his sights on the other one. As in training, they planned to shoot simultaneously, and another marine did the honors of counting down for them.

  On cue, the snipers released their poison. The MK11’s recoil is nothing, allowing Pasciuti to see his target almost immediately. The bullet tore through the rib cage, and the man painfully reached for his side before falling. Unknown to the marines, the two IED layers had backup, who opened fire on them. This drew heavy return fire from the Marine snipers. Pasciuti had noticed others trying to help the two wounded men on the road, when a truck arrived and loaded the bodies in the back before disappearing. The marines later recovered an IED from the scene. This was the first engagement for the battalion and Banshee Two, but it was just one of many to come.

  After a month on the south side of the town, the team decided to investigate farther north. Coalition Forces had not patrolled those areas in some time, and it was thought that insurgents moved within that area unprotested. The decision paid off as one day, while on a mission, Pasciuti found himself closer to the enemy than he would like to have been.

  Two sniper teams joined together for the operation. The mission allowed the snipers to search for targets of opportunity in the unattended area. On the first day, they prepared a quality hide deep inside the thick vegetation near the Eu
phrates River. Ghillie suits let them blend in perfectly with the tall grass surrounding them.

  In the afternoon Pasciuti and the team’s corpsman held security and observation. All was silent as Pasciuti monitored the radio. He used a pocketknife to clean his fingernails while facing the corpsman. Suddenly the bushes behind the corpsman moved. Pasciuti lifted his head and noticed two men walking straight for him. One clutched a black object in his hands, but they both had AKs slung on their backs and quickly closed in on the hide.

  The men were oblivious to the snipers. Pasciuti sat motionless while the men walked straight toward him. No one else in the team had seen them. Within seconds, the men were close enough to step on the corpsman’s back. Just before they did, however, Pasciuti yelled, jumped up, and lunged at them with his knife.

  The men were scared senseless. They had no idea what they were looking at; in their mind a bush had just screamed and was coming at them with a blade. The rest of the team reached for their weapons as the men turned and ran, followed by Pasciuti. After a few yards Pasciuti came to his senses.

  “I’m taking a knife to a gunfight!” he thought.

  Behind him, Jimmy and another sniper, Ramsey, stood up and aimed in with their M4s. By this time, the two men were running at a dead sprint and had split up. One went left while the other broke right.

  Another Marine team member, Scardino, stood with the SAW and let loose on the man running to the left, who tried making it behind a building. Scardino’s machine gun dropped him in mid stride.

  Jimmy and Ramsey unleashed on the man to the right. Pasciuti watched Jimmy and Ramsey test the battalion gunner’s new theory of target engagement. He had explained that shooting a target near the waist, around the pelvis area, would immobilize the individual, because that area has the largest bone mass in the human body. The gunner’s theory worked. Jimmy and Ramsey left the insurgent crawling after a few shots.

  The snipers inspected the bodies. Jimmy and Ramsey’s target had bled to death from bullet wounds to his lower back and hips. The black object that Pasciuti had seen earlier turned out to be a video camera, a big score for the marines. From it, they learned that the men were part of a local IED cell, and the video instructed others on how to make the explosives, described techniques for burying the bombs, and gave reconnaissance of potential areas for emplacing them.

  In the short months that Banshee Two lived in Amiriyah, they racked up seven kills. They stopped and revealed enemy tactics on IEDs there, but the battalion transferred to a nearby town, a place where the enemy had their own hunters.

  The marines moved to Habbaniyah, a town fifty-five miles west of Baghdad, between Ramadi and Fallujah. Establishing a presence along the main road from Fallujah, through Habbaniyah to Ramadi, became the battalion’s first order of business. IEDs and ambushes reigned freely along the road. Stopping them was a challenge because of the sheer distance involved. For snipers, the mission called for their keen skill of attention to details.

  At the new base, the marines learned of an enemy sniper on the loose. He was accurate and careful in his methods, and a formidable shooter. One day he struck a soldier in a guard tower just before sundown. At changeover, the soldier was about to leave but remembered his binoculars sitting on a ledge. Camouflage netting covered his position, but the binos were outside of it. As he reached from the covering, his hand was exposed, giving the enemy sniper a perfect target. The soldier’s hand was mincemeat. Pasciuti knew that he had to be careful there; any slipup could cost his life.

  In the following months, Pasciuti’s team took to observation. They lived and shuffled through observation posts up and down the main route and helped sniff out IEDs. Their advantage was in their optics, thermals, and scoped rifles, but unfortunately, as skilled as they were, Pasciuti’s team could not see into dead space. These were areas blocked by terrain or man-made objects, but the marines scattered amtracks (amphibious assault vehicles) or tanks near them, making for an impenetrable chain of surveillance—or so they thought.

  It all came to a head one day after a crafty attack by insurgents. It began with an IED on an amtrack. The snipers could not help, but other marines in a nearby amtrack left their position and raced to the scene. The marines had suffered only minor injuries, and the amtrack returned to its original spot, only to be met with another IED, which caused no serious injures. The insurgents had taken advantage of the gap in the lines and planted a bomb when the second amtrack left its position. It was a good strike, but Pasciuti’s team would have their revenge.

  Pasciuti and Jimmy knew what to do. They pitched a bait mission to the company commander, but instead of people, the bait would be the absence of military presence. Their idea called for Pasciuti and Jimmy to take two teams while under darkness, into certain buildings. In the morning, an amtrack would show up as usual, but later it would race away as if responding to an emergency, thus appearing to leave a gap in the lines. While it was gone, the snipers would keep an eye out for any insurgents.

  The captain was convinced, and the mission was approved. That night the two sniper teams, each with four infantrymen as security, executed the plan and slipped into separate buildings to cover more ground. Once set, Pasciuti broke his team up and made two sniper positions. Pasciuti’s position pointed toward the main road, while in another room his assistant team leader covered another sector. Jimmy and his team did the same in their building, enabling all of the snipers to cover a tremendous amount of land.

  At 0700 the next morning, the amtrack arrived, and a short time later it sped away, setting the trap. Before noon, Pasciuti took the rifle while his spotter, Doc Barth, headed downstairs to use the bathroom. Sergeant Kevin Homestead, the infantrymen’s squad leader, eagerly replaced him. Kevin had worked with the snipers before and jumped at the chance to spot when Pasciuti asked him. It was not every day that infantrymen peeked into sniper operations.

  Ten minutes later, another amtrack rolled into the area. Pasciuti overheard their call sign and raised them on the radio to inform them of his group’s presence.

  “Red One, this is Banshee Four. Just a heads-up. We’re running a mission out here,” he said.

  “Roger that, Banshee Four. We’re well aware. We’re gonna hang out here for a few minutes and then we’ll be on our way.”

  In the building, Pasciuti dropped the handset and resumed scanning the street below. Outside, an avenue ran straight from his building to the main road, where the amtrack remained. Moving nearest to farthest, he thoroughly inspected people on the streets—cars, windows, and everything else—just as sniper school had taught him. Minutes later, he came across a car. At first he did not see anything out of the ordinary and almost moved on, but suddenly, from a small window behind the rear passenger door, a glare caught his eye. He took a better look by adjusting his scope, and immediately recognized a video camera, which faced the amtrack. It dawned on him what was happening. Insurgents loved to tape their attacks for propaganda, especially IED attacks.

  “Red One! Red One! You need to button up! You’re being observed!” he yelled, hoping to get the marines in the amtrack out of harm’s way.

  “What’s that, Banshee Four?” was the reply.

  “Red One! Button up right now! Something is gonna happen! You’re being videotaped!”

  The marines in the track took cover and sealed the hatches right away. Pasciuti found the distance to the car and dialed his scope to 284 yards. Rules of engagement stated that anyone with such equipment in those circumstances fell under hostile intent, allowing the snipers to engage. Because their hide was exceptional, under the circumstances, Pasciuti did not want to give his position away and decided on other methods of engagement.

  At first, Pasciuti wanted air support to destroy the car, but he had none on station. He switched to artillery and called in a mission, but nearby, the battalion commander heard the transmission and pinpointed Pasciuti’s location. He denied the use of artillery because of a nearby mosque and the potential for collate
ral damage. Next, Pasciuti tried persuading mortars, but he was denied for the same reason. Finally he called Red One, telling them to engage the car, but they were unwilling, as well.

  Meanwhile, the company commander heard everything.

  “Banshee Four, take that shot!” he yelled over the radio.

  “Pasciuti! Pasciuti! Look!” said Sergeant Homestead, tapping him on the shoulder. Pasciuti sighted in on the car in time to see a hand adjusting the camera. He knew that at any second, the man could strike, and with visual confirmation of someone inside, Pasciuti prepared to engage.

  The car sat almost horizontal to their building. Pasciuti aimed in while Homestead spotted, using binoculars. After a deep exhalation, the sniper let the crosshairs settle just above the camera, hoping to hit anyone behind it. Knowing that shooting through glass would throw the bullet off course, his goal was to shatter the glass with the first shot and get the kill with the follow-up round.

  After a countdown, Pasciuti let his bullets fly. His first shot hit six inches above the camera. The small window had an opening now and the final two shots were a tad lower. When he finished shooting, the buildings around them erupted with the sound of women wailing and crying. The neighbors must have thought that the snipers were executing the family inside the house, but within seconds all went quiet except for chatter over the radio.

  By now, all units knew the situation. Pasciuti rolled off his gun to direct the track onto the car. He told Sergeant Homestead to get behind the sniper rifle just in case anything happened. Homestead was not a sniper or even in the sniper platoon, but Pasciuti needed him to hold security while he reported his actions. Just as Pasciuti began to speak, Homestead noticed a man walking up to the car.