[Vision2020] Counter Sniper Mission (some profanity)

[Tom Hansen]

>From "The Sandbox" at http://gocomics.typepad.com/the_sandbox/, a blog of
entries from active members of our armed forces.

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COUNTER SNIPER MISSION
Name: Rob
Posting date: 1/11/07
Returned from: Iraq
Milblog url: http://www.snipereye.blogspot.com 
Email: robert_ca_sd at yahoo.com 

It was my downtime, so I was in the palace using the computer when the
Sergeant Major came storming out of the TOC and approached me. "Brian's
shot. They got hit on exfill," he said in a nervous and worried tone.
"They're on their way back right now with the QRF."

"Fuck," was all I could think as I quickly grabbed my vest and sidearm. I
found my boss and told him what had happened, then we both ran out of the
palace and to the aid station to wait. Moments later, four Humvees came
roaring up the driveway. Brian was on the back of the cargo Humvee lying on
his back, pants soaked in blood, a field dressing and a tourniquet wrapped
around his leg. 

"Alright! Let him out slow!" a soldier said, as they lowered my friend out
of the Humvee.

My sniper section had gone six months without a single wound. Brian's leg
was in bad shape. Nerve damage was obvious. 

"What the fuck happened?" I asked Josh, the team leader for this mission, as
we walked into the aid station and stood beside Brian's stretcher.

"We were exfilling, then all of a sudden out of nowhere the wall we were
walking next to started getting bullet holes in it. It's Ramadan, you know,
we have been hearing gunshots all day and night, so we couldn't pin down the
location. But Brian caught one in the hand and another straight through the
leg. And, before we knew it, fuckin' Haji was gone. We never even seen him,
Rob."

Ghosts. Ghosts. Ghosts. That's all the insurgents are, goddamn ghosts. The
sniper unit that was here before we were told us there was a marksman in the
area. He was good. He almost took the head off of one of their men last
summer. This had now become a counter sniper mission. And we were more than
ready. 

A few days later, my team and two other teams were loading onto the back of
the stripped Humvees. We locked and loaded our weapons then sped off, with
the hot sun beating down and the rush of wind upon us. Now was the time. The
plan had been laid out and gone over: we were going to bait and kill the
insurgent who was responsible for shedding my teammate's blood. 

"Matrix 1, Matrix 1, this is Matrix 7. Are you in position, over?" my boss
said through the radio. I watched from behind the dirty window as Walter and
Billy set up their rifles.

"Roger, over."

"Alright, we're getting dropped now and are proceeding to the designated
intersection, over."

"Roger,over."

I watched through my binos as Matrix 7's team proceeded to the intersection
where they would slowly walk as if they were exfilling. Hopefully the
insurgent would see them, present himself, and be eliminated from the face
of the Earth.

"I see Mike," Billy said as he looked through the scope of his M24. 

"Roger. These kids need to get out of the way," I replied as Walter and I
scanned the area. Some young boys were happily playing a few meters behind
Mike's team. The Ramadan fireworks and celebrating were still at their peak.
This didn't help the situation. 

Mike's team had been walking the area for several minutes now, but still no
sign of who we were looking for. All of a sudden they stopped. 

They stood there on the corner and just waited. If their menacing body
language could be translated into words, it would have sounded something
like, "Come on, pussy, show yourself. We're here, waiting."

Then "BAM, BAM,BAM!" from down the street.

"Matrix 7! That is only the kids. They just set off their fireworks, over!"
I yelled into the radio as I watched the group of boys celebrate their
holiday on the wrong street at the wrong time.

Hours passed. And, we waited, and waited. But, nothing. Not a single shot
fired. Not a single insurgent out to play. The disappointment fell on our
shoulders like a thousand pound rucksack as we walked back into the palace
with nothing to tell Brian. Sometimes "we tried" just isn't good enough. But
the people back home will never understand that. The words "selfless
service", "honor", "duty", "courage", and "country" are known to them only
as words, with no substance behind them. Only words.

I remember something my Sergeant Major told us before we deployed. He said,
"Men, they'll never understand what it takes to protect and defend this
country. Never. You see them every day driving down the I-5 with their
Starbucks coffee, going to their desk jobs. And they don't give a shit. They
don't know what we go through. But, goddamn, we do it anyways." 

"People sleep peaceably in their beds at night only because rough men stand
ready to do violence on their behalf." 
    --George Orwell

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And the beat goes on . . .

"Bring 'em Home"
http://www.tomandrodna.com/Songs/Bring_em_home.mp3

"If you love this land of the free
Bring 'em home, bring 'em home
Bring them back from overseas
Bring 'em home, bring 'em home

It will make the politicians sad, I know 
Bring 'em home, bring 'em home 
They wanna tangle with their foe 
Bring 'em home, bring 'em home

They wanna test their grand theories
Bring 'em home, bring 'em home
With the blood of you and me
Bring 'em home, bring 'em home

Now we'll give no more brave young lives 
Bring 'em home, bring 'em home 
For the gleam in someone's eyes 
Bring 'em home, bring 'em home

The men will cheer and the boys will shout 
Bring 'em home, bring 'em home 
Yeah and we will all turn out 
Bring 'em home, bring 'em home

The church bells will ring with joy
Bring 'em home, bring 'em home
To welcome our darlin' girls and boys
Bring 'em home, bring 'em home

We will lift their voice and sound
Bring 'em home, bring 'em home
Yeah, when Johnny comes marching home
Bring 'em home, bring 'em home."
   
Pro patria,

Tom Hansen
Moscow, Idaho

"Patriotism is not a short and frenzied outburst of emotion but the tranquil
and steady dedication of a lifetime."

-- Adlai E. Stevenson, Jr.