His first lesson during marksmanship was “optics magnify errors.” This simply means that without the fundamentals of shooting, a scope only proves a shooter’s inability. To understand this, the students were restricted to iron sights on their sniper rifles for the first two weeks. With no scope or bipods and only a sling and a shooting glove, the snipers set out to learn the basics. They shot in the standing using just a sling, slow fire, and rapid fire, as well as different shooting positions at each yard line, ending at six hundred yards. In the end, the training paid off, because once they mounted optics, Stan was dead-on.
After graduating SOTIC, Stan was back with his unit, and then 9/11 happened. Within months they learned that the rumor about Afghanistan was true, and his brigade packed and readied for deployment. Stan hoped all the training and all the shooting would pay off, because now he was headed for war.
Trained for War
By the time Marine Corporal Josh Rush deployed to Afghanistan, he had been through extensive sniper training. He’d arrived to the Second Battalion, Third Marines scout/sniper platoon in 2003 and was a PIG (Professionally Instructed Gunman) for two months before earning a seat at Third Marine Division’s sniper school on Marine Corps Base Hawaii. The odds were against him, though, as a private first class, and after months of sniper training he went to the school only to fail the first event, land navigation. Luckily the instructors allowed him to finish the course, but in the end, he was not given a certification.
Rush considered the sniper training a bonus to begin with. He had joined the Marines to be in the infantry, and when he found out about snipers, he jumped at the chance. After high school, he enrolled for a semester of college and quickly realized that it wasn’t the right thing for him and considered the Marines. Both his grand-fathers and an uncle had served in the military, and his uncle had been a Marine infantrymen. When Josh told him that he wanted to be a military policeman, his uncle spoke sense into him.
“If you’re anything but a grunt, I’ll disown you,” he said. After that, Rush signed up for the infantry.
After sniper school Rush returned to his battalion. Of course he was punished by his senior snipers for not graduating, but he would make it up a few years later. As soon as he was back, a team from the Marine Corps Special Operations Training Group arrived in Hawaii to instruct in urban sniping. They allowed the entire sniper platoon from 2/3 to attend, regardless if they were school certified or not. It was a rare opportunity that the snipers relished. To add to their basic understanding of sniping, the urban course brought about new concepts of shooting and operating in a city environment. Rush learned shooting from multiple positions, helicopter shooting, timed shooting concerning windows of opportunity, and glass penetration, all in two weeks. By the end of the course, Rush had received news that his battalion was deploying to Afghanistan, and they began pre-deployment training.
For the work-up, Second Battalion, Third Marines headed to California. The battalion stayed in Twenty-nine Palms to familiarize themselves with the desert and to practice large-scale exercises. The sniper platoon, however, traveled north to Bridgeport to attend the mountainous scout sniper course.
The snipers arrived in the Toiyabe National Forest, one hundred miles from Reno, Nevada. The altitude and terrain simulated the environment in Afghanistan, giving the snipers a feel for what they would be up against. There, Rush learned the effects that high altitudes had on his bullet, and how to shoot at extreme angles. Another important factor for operating in small teams was the immediate action drills, how to react if caught by surprise. In the mountains, especially in Afghanistan, where the enemy has home field advantage, being caught in an ambush is likely, and for Rush, this training was the factor that saved his life.
With three sniper courses under his belt, and other training, Rush was shipped to Afghanistan. His battalion flew into Bagram Air Base near Kabul and met the Marines that they were relieving. The snipers discussed their new area of operations and exchanged stories. The outgoing Marines didn’t give Rush an exact picture of what to expect. Some of the snipers had seen a lot of action while others had seen very little, if any. None of that would matter, though, because Rush’s experience would be different from theirs, and soon he found a temporary home in the Kunar Province.
A Bump in the Night
In early 2002, Stan flew to Afghanistan. The long flight gave him time to reflect. As the team leader, he wanted his men to make it back safely. His seriousness had been the butt of many jokes, but now that combat was near, he was glad that he had paid attention during training. The brief that they had received before leaving kept playing through his mind.
We don’t know exactly how long you’re going to be there—at least six months. As far as the enemy is concerned, they’ve been fighting here their whole lives, so expect a war. They’re good, and don’t underestimate them. Don’t take anything for granted, don’t embarrass your country, and do what you have to do to win!
When the soldiers passed through Germany, they were given ammunition. Stan realized the magnitude of how close to combat he was later in flight, while gazing through the window. Gone were the bright blue ocean and green carpets below. Instead, Stan fell asleep to the sight of desert tan as far as the eye could see.
He was awakened one hour before landing. As the plane touched down, the soldiers were welcomed by U.S. Marines who had occupied the area with rows of tents and a command post building farther off. The airport had been secured by guards and concertina wire, and for the marines, the soldiers were a sight for sore eyes, symbolizing just how close they were to going home.
Within hours, the soldiers were briefed. Their new home was the Kandahar International Airport, just south of the city of Kandahar. The area was the last stronghold for the Taliban, and still a very dangerous place. Al-Qaeda had been driven to the mountains, but they still fought, using guerrilla tactics, hit-and-run style.
Afghanistan was a new world to Stan. The temperature was cold, close to 45°F, with a constant twenty- to thirty-mile-an-hour breeze during the day. At night the temperature dropped dramatically. The environment around them was worse; Stan thought he was in the Dark Ages because the area looked to be the result of a nuclear holocaust. The land was barren, especially near the airport. Hills, natural water beds known as wadis, and flat plains surrounded the airport. Though civilians were only a few hundred meters away, Stan would never come in contact with them. In fact, the only locals he would meet would be men of the Northern Alliance.
Two weeks after arriving, Stan and his partner, Justin, were sent on their first mission. The plan called for a raid on a terrorist safe house in Khost, north of Kandahar a few hours, and Stan’s team was to provide over-watch for the soldiers. They were to fly in on four CH-47 Chinook helicopters, hit the house, capture the men, and return home. But from the very beginning the mission was doomed.
On January 28, the raid force departed in the middle of the night. It was cold in the back of the bird, and Stan tried resting during the ride. Night illumination was great and the pilots could see the ground below perfectly. A few minutes passed before the door gunners tested their weapons into a dry lake bed. Stan was up front near the pilots and was crammed next to fuel bladders, which pressed against his knees. He dozed off a few times, but the sleep was temporary.
As the helicopters neared the target area, everyone was on alert. Stan found his gear and weapons, but he was not prepared for what happened next. As the pilots descended, sand, dirt, and debris were picked up by the rotors and engulfed the area. The pilots could not see anything, including the ground. This phenomenon is known as brown-out. With the loss of visibility, the pilots had no clue when to brake and they landed the helicopters at full speed.
Stan was looking to the rear hatch just before impact. He felt a strong jolt and then all went black. The impact had knocked everyone out. Minutes later, Stan opened his eyes and heard screams around him. It was dark inside, but when he turned his head, Stan noticed that a
fire was beginning.
“Did we just get hit?” he thought, while his adrenaline pumped.
It was cold, and the right side of Stan’s head was numb. His entire body was wet. Then he remembered the fuel bladders that had been pressed up against his knees earlier, and he knew that he was soaked in diesel. As he gained consciousness, he knew that he needed to get out of there.
In his mind, they had been hit by an RPG, and he believed that they were in a fight. His M4 was still attached to his body, as was his chest harness full of ammunition. He did not have time to worry about the other gear.
The helicopter lay on its right side. Stan gripped his weapon and crawled for the rear opening, but he stopped before stepping out. Outside, others had formed a perimeter around the wounded. Stan was on his way out, but with one last glance inside the helicopter, he saw someone else.
He went back and pulled the soldier out by the drag handle on his vest. Stan’s head ached and it was hard to breathe, but he still pulled the man sixty yards to the others. Behind him, flames consumed the bird and suddenly a medic approached.
Stan knew right away that he was a Special Forces medic. His appearance was different from that of the other soldiers, and Stan felt relieved knowing that Eighteen Delta-qualified medics, the best, were out there. The medic grabbed Stan and shined a light on his face.
“You need to get on that helicopter over there,” he said.
The last thing Stan wanted to do was get back on another helicopter. His face was swollen and bleeding, and he could not open his right eye because the side of his face had been crushed. A piece of metal from inside the helicopter had slammed down on his face and into his eye socket, tearing muscular tissue. It was fortunate the metal stopped when it did, because less than an inch farther, it would have gouged his eye out.
Stan obliged the medic and was evacuated. Shortly afterward, he was flown to Germany for reconstructive surgery. Weeks later, the surgeon asked if he wanted to go home or back to combat. He could not believe that his first mission had gone the way it did, and he hoped that it would not be a sign of what was to come, because he had decided to get back into the fight.
Kunar
In 2005, the Second Battalion, Third Marines unit entered the Kunar Province. This northeastern region of Afghanistan would prove to be beautiful and untamed. Bordering Pakistan, the province let fighters move to and from the adjoining country, and the mountains in the region made it hard for U.S. forces to stop them. It was June, ushering in good weather and more enemy activity from Anti-Coalition Militias (ACMs) who emerged from their winter caves now more willing to fight. ACMs were bands of fighters with ties to the Taliban and al-Qaeda, but not specifically part of the groups. They were typically tribes or groups who were not fond of the Coalition and had lived their entire lives in Afghanistan, giving them an edge over foreigners.
Rush and his team joined Echo Company at Camp Blessing on the western front. He was clueless about the country, but it didn’t take long to adapt. The small, remote base sat at on the bottom of a valley surrounded by mountains. Atop the mountains were observation posts held by Afghan Security Forces. The base itself contained a few buildings surrounded by concertina wire and dirt barriers.
For operating, Rush trusted that his team was prepared. Sergeant Evers, the team leader, was very experienced and knowledgeable. He’d been through sniper school in the early 1990s and had several deployments, including a trip to Iraq. He was also older, in his mid-thirties, and had been an instructor at the mountain warfare center in California, teaching snipers to shoot, navigate, and survive in the mountains. If anyone knew how to manage in the peaks of Afghanistan, it was Sergeant Evers. Rush’s other teammate was Parish, a corpsman who had recently joined the platoon. He was quiet, but hardworking and listened well.
At Camp Blessing, the snipers were given time to adjust to their surroundings. They climbed the steep hills and stayed at the observation posts a couple of times to feel the effects of the elevation. Sergeant Evers was in great shape; he ran faster than anyone in the platoon, and when it came to humping, the more weight he carried the faster he was, but Rush was behind him all the way, in great shape himself. Parish, though, being fresh to the platoon, hadn’t experienced anything like Afghanistan, and he sat the first few missions out. During the adjustment missions, Evers was behind the scenes requesting for the snipers to run solo missions, and one night they were approved.
From the week they arrived, the marines took enemy fire. Their camp was hit at least twice a week by mortars and small arms. Evers wanted to find the enemy’s attack positions, but the battalion was hesitant to use the snipers. Finally one night the camp commander, a first lieutenant, knocked on their door and informed them that their mission was approved.
Their first mission was a good learning experience. Evers planned to recon “Rocket Ridge,” the hillside from where the marines suspected the anti-Coalition militants shot from. The snipers packed for a three-day operation, with food, equipment, and twelve courts of water, and set out. The climb to the top of the nearest hill was exhausting and the heavy packs wore the snipers out, but they were able to make it into position. When the sun rose, Rush noticed the craters from return attacks by artillery. The dense forest hid small trails, and the most interesting thing the snipers found were early warning devices set by the fighters. The enemy had placed piles of dead branches on the trails, and if the snipers had moved through them, the sound would have been loud enough to alert the fighters.
After the first few missions, the snipers gained confidence. They took to the mountains and began to understand the region more. The only contact that they had made with the enemy was minimal; it happened when their base was attacked. The enemy fighters would not stay long enough for the marines to pursue them, or for the snipers to maneuver on them.
Meanwhile, battalion headquarters began planning Operation Red Wings. The mission was to kill or capture anti-Coalition militias in the Korengal Valley, a place that seemed untouchable to U.S. troops. The Marines wanted to clear the valley of the fighters before the upcoming Afghanistan elections. The main anti-Coalition militia, known as the Mountain Tigers, was led by a local Afghan Arab known as Ahmad Shah. He kept a tight grip on the Korengal, and became a key target. Finding him and his fighters, however, would be a task in itself.
Disaster met the start of Operation Red Wings. A four-man sniper team made up of U.S. Navy SEALs, which coincidently would have been Rush’s sniper team, if the marines were given the mission, infiltrated deep into the valley, but were compromised and subsequently attacked by Shah’s men, who killed all but one, Marcus Luttrell, who escaped. The rescue team sent to the aid of the men were hit while in their helicopter, and all were killed. As a result, a month later the Marines launched Operation Whalers.
Anaconda
In Afghanistan the action was heating up. Back at Kandahar, Stan was relieved as a team leader because of his absence and his injuries. That was unimportant to him; what was important was that he would be fighting soon. Fortunately three days after he arrived back, he learned that they were going to face the enemy soon, as a big operation was at hand. The soldiers were told to prepare, but the specifics were vague.
In the meantime the snipers fine-tuned their weapons. In that climate, elevation and weather have effects on the bullet, and the snipers knew that. They trained to anticipate their weapons’ efficiency by shooting as often as they could, which was every day. Stan became the spotter for his new teammate, Jason. They were able to quickly mesh as a team, and Stan took to his new role well. Within a few days, the snipers were ordered to pack because they were headed north.
As for Stan, he faced his fear for the first time since the wreck by getting on another helicopter. The flight seemed like forever, but soon the soldiers arrived twenty-seven miles north of Afghanistan’s capital city, Kabul, to their new home, Bagram Air Base in the Par-van Province. The base was an old Russian airstrip used by the Soviets in Afghanistan, but no
w it was property of the U.S. military.
Shortly after settling in, the snipers were told of the next big mission; it was dubbed Operation Anaconda. They learned that al-Qaeda fighters were gathering in the nearby Shah-I-Kot Valley and had been doing so for months. Intelligence reports stated that a few hundred fighters, including high-value targets, were in three villages along the valley. The fighters were also preparing a spring offensive against Afghan and U.S. forces, but the plan was to hit them before they could attack.
For the soldiers, the overall plan was fairly simple. Task Force Hammer were Afghan military forces accompanied by U.S. Special Forces troops responsible for pushing through the valley, essentially destroying the enemy or driving him toward the second element of the plan. Task Force Anvil, the second element, were soldiers from the 101st and Tenth Mountain, with support from Canadian troops, and they were to wait in blocking positions on the northern and eastern edges of the valley to prevent escape and deny enemy reinforcements.
Stan’s team was to insert with the ground troops on the eastern ridges. Once there, they were to break off and move around a mountain pass to cover the infantrymen’s blind spot. The soldiers were told that it was to be a two-day mission and to expect some contact but not much.
Before the assault, Stan and Jason learned how dangerous the mission was. They were zeroing their rifle one last time when they ran into a Special Forces soldier with whom they had gone to SOTIC.
“Why are you carrying such a big weapon?” Stan joked, referring to the light machine gun slung around his old friend’s neck. “Doesn’t that slow you down?”
“Well, where you’re going, the only thing they run from is a belt-fed weapon,” said the SF soldier, knowing what Stan and his partner were up against.
Hunters: U.S. Snipers in the War on Terror Page 8
