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Next-Gen Force Multiplication
Some three hundred miles off the coast of Somalia in the dead of night, everything was black. Even the silhouettes of the hulking floating structures that surrounded their little vessel could not be made out against the sky behind them-at least not well enough to discern that those shadows were growing larger.
The three remaining pirates had been played-convinced it was in their best interest to accept a tow from the USSBainbridge, the destroyer on point of the shepherding armada.
The enterprising teenagers were exhausted, weary, and growing increasingly agitated. Only a few days before, they had accomplished something no others had in nearly two centuries: the successful seizure of a United States Merchant Marine vessel.
The hijacking had not gone exactly to plan and now they found themselves in an awkward-looking lifeboat, cramped and breathing stale air. Their single source of leverage was the man who not long before was in charge of the cargo ship they had boarded-Captain Richard Phillips of the MV Maersk Alabama.
However, that bargaining chip was significant enough to prove considerably more than they had actually bargained for, bringing the maritime might of the United States Navy down on top of them. And that might was expressed not only by the mammoth naval destroyers, frigates, carriers, and aircraft those boats ferry.
Unbeknownst to the pirates, an advance team of DEVGRU operators had materialized on the scene, taking up station on the Bainbridge. The commandos had jumped in following a short flight from their operational base in Manda Bay, Kenya, and they were soon joined by a larger force that flew in from the States on a C-17 and also parachuted into the shark-infested waters of the Gulf of Aden.
Earlier there had been four pirates threatening the life of the captain on the lifeboat. But one, the wounded and desperate Abdiwali Abdiqadir Muse, had surrendered and voluntarily placed himself in the hands of the SEALs.
Despite its cramped quarters, the bobbing orange lifeboat had already been the backdrop for plenty of drama. Phillips attempted an ill-advised escape at one point but was fished back out of the water and yanked back into the craft.
Troublingly, Phillips's captors had grown more and more unpredictable as the days wore on. At times they would crack shots from their Kalashnikov rifles at the Navy ships, and at others they would communicate via satellite phone with potential reinforcements of their own-a makeshift Somali pirate armada consisting of five additional hijacked ships loaded with additional hostages.
And almost comically, the pirates also provided occasional real-time updates to the international press corps as the world became entranced by the ratcheting drama.
The FBI negotiations cycled between promising and nonexistent. Lockheed P-3 Orion and Boeing ScanEagle ISR (intelligence, reconnaissance, and surveillance) platforms circled overhead while the DEVGRU assaulters readied on the USS Boxer, just waiting for the green light to launch.
For days the unit's snipers-members of its shrouded Black Team-had rotated through gun positions fanned out the back deck of the Bainbridge.
While waterborne operations are the historic calling card of Navy SEALs and maritime hostage rescues DEVGRU's raison d'être, the reality is that by April 12, 2009, these SEALs had spent nearly a decade dismantling terrorist networks in the jagged mountains of Afghanistan. Even the most senior of DEVGRU's men were far more familiar with operating at an elevation of ten thousand feet above the sea rather than in it; their particularly demanding tasking requires they be prepared for any mission, in any environment, at any time. And the more impossible it's deemed, the more likely it will come their way.
The SEALs who had come to save the captive American hailed from Red Squadron, one of DEVGRU's four assault squadrons. It had shed blood in the region before. In 1993, four of its snipers had taken part in Operation Gothic Serpent-more popularly known as Black Hawk Down-in Mogadishu, Somalia, in 1993 and earned four Silver Stars for their considerable trouble.
One of Red Squadron's own was also the first make the ultimate sacrifice following 9/11. Petty Officer First Class Neil Roberts died fighting alone atop the peak of Takur Ghar in Afghanistan during Operation Anaconda.
And over the decade following that loss, the squadron had doled out vengeance in spectacular numbers and with unapologetic efficiency.
Now the SEALs were back in the water, preparing to add three more to their monumental toll. Execute authority had been granted by the executive authority: President Obama provided the team with the permission it needed to intervene should they judge the captain's life to be in grave and immediate danger.
While the night was pure blackness from the pirates' perspective, through the DEVGRU snipers' advanced night-vision optics they could clearly see the beams of the infrared lasers that stretched out from their accurized SR-25s across the Bainbridge and danced across faces of the fleeting targets.
And then an AK-47 was driven into Phillips's back. The frantic shuffling inside the lifeboat's cabin exposed all three heads simultaneously for just a fraction of a second.
DEVGRU's snipers-collectively known as Black Team-offer commanders a 100 percent headshot guarantee within a certain range. Its snipers are regularly tested to demonstrate that they can actually deliver on that promise. Reeled in to a range nearly ten times shorter than that magic distance, the pirates had become the closest possible literal realization of the idiom "shooting fish in a barrel."
Three mechanical clicks of suppressed Mk 11 Mod 0 semi-automatics registered almost as a single hushed sound as the weapons issued forth three 7.62mm rounds. At that distance the bullets traveled precisely down the path shown by the lasers. Barely slowing from their initial velocity of over twenty-three hundred feet per second, they found their marks in near-instantaneous fashion.
Almost as quickly, two DEVGRU snipers traversed the two ropes to secure Phillips.
A complex situation had been resolved in shockingly simple, almost elegant fashion.
Three bullets equaled three dead pirates. And those three bullets also meant one American life had been preserved while the entire globe watched on at full attention.
The dramatic rescue provided a rare and fleeting glimpse of the wealth of capabilities that had been acquired by the nation's spec ops snipers during the Global War on Terror.
What went unseen to the world at large were the vast multitudes of operations executed by these marksmen and others like them. Their work is largely performed behind a veil of secrecy, hidden by special access codes and other gray mechanisms of classification.
A former Black Team sniper said, "As impressive as that was, I can guarantee you it wasn't that big of a deal to those who did it. They're used to being in a much more difficult environment than they were that night. I know that's difficult for people to conceive. Difficult as those shots were or that scenario seems to be to the average Joe, for those guys, it was just another night at work."
The dead pirates were only three of thousands-if not tens of thousands-that have perished at the discretion of America's modern special operations snipers.
And Richard Phillips was just one of an even greater number saved by those same actions-whether directly, more broadly, or abstractly.
* * *
Depending on how much slack the definition is allowed, the first sniper arguably came into existence before the first human did; newly discovered evidence suggests that ancient hominids were throwing spears nearly 280,000 years ago. You have to figure it wasn't too long after that an enterprising prehuman devised one a little straighter that flew a bit truer. Later, archers dominated battlefields for hundreds of years, striking from distances of hundreds of yards.
Even snipers in the more modern sense of the word brought dread to their enemies long enough ago to seem downright prehistoric. Snipers have acted as force multipliers in every major conflict dating back to the Revolutionary War. Their exact role, along with their tactics and composition, have altered with time, matching technology with the particulars of environment and engagement.
However, even with the celebrated rescue of Captain Phillips-a rescue followed by millions as it happened, re-created for millions more by way of a blockbuster motion picture that received a slew of Academy Award nominations, and compounded by the latter-day celebrity status of Navy SEALs-the popular image of the sniper had already been permanently seared into the collective consciousness.
The word "sniper" evokes images of the silent hunter stalking his prey through the jungle. He is utterly unshakable in his concentration, and relentless, deliberate, and precise in his actions. Fearless and unstoppable, he is Gunnery Sergeant Carlos Hathcock II.
Hathcock's exploits during the Vietnam War not only established him as a legendary figure bordering on the mythical, but also elevated the very concept of the sniper in the process. That impact has been spread equally to the public at large, his successors who continue to follow in his footsteps to this very day, and the military leaders who employ them.
Carlos Hathcock grew up with his grandmother, but in many ways, he was raised by the Arkansas woods. There he developed an innate sense and natural affinity for fieldcraft.
He also proved to be an unusually gifted marksman. Hathcock was actually a decorated competitive shooter prior to his experience as a sniper. In fact, he won the prestigious Wimbledon Cup in 1965 as a young Marine, which directly led him to the profession he would soon embark upon-and revolutionize.
His Wimbledon Cup success led to his recruitment by Captain Edward James Land, who sought to rapidly muster an elevated sniper presence for the USMC during the Vietnam War.
Even among the rest of Land's "Murder Inc." at the 1st Marine Division, Hathcock proved to be an exceptionally adept sniper, far outstripping even what his competition-proven accuracy predicted. Not merely a Mozart of the Model 70, Hathcock's mental makeup made him the ideal specimen for what may be deemed by many to be a rather disagreeable discipline.
Utilizing prodigious skills and an ingenious mind, Hathcock silently haunted the rainforest near Hill 55. He racked up a remarkable number of confirmed kills-ninety-three-which are widely thought to be less than a third of the genuine tally.
And for every kill, there seemed to be an associated tale of note. Routinely on the hunt for days at a time with just his spotter at his side, Hathcock assembled a division's worth of war stories all on his own.
Legend has it that he once volunteered for a "suicide mission" before he himself was made aware of the particulars. Having been given his orders, Hathcock crept into position. He had imperceptibly eased his body across a mile of terrain out over the course of four long days to pull the trigger on this North Vietnamese general. Surrounded by enemy patrols some seven hundred yards from the heart of the encampment, Hathcock went unnoticed in the brush. Camouflaged by an improvised proto-ghillie suit of sticks and vegetation, he was nearly stepped on by an NVA (North Vietnamese Army) troop before he finally caught sight of his target.
Hathcock put the general down with a direct shot to the heart and then made a measured retreat in the same manner in which he had come even as the compound exploded with the confused frenetic activity of a disturbed anthill.
And then there's the one about the time the Marine sniper eliminated the sadistic Viet Cong guerrilla leader, Apache. A sniper, interrogator, and torturer of inhuman note, Apache skinned alive a captured Marine within screaming distance of Hill 55. Those shrieks served as Hathcock's new mission orders and he tracked Apache down to end her reign of terror with precise finality.
And for more than three decades his name was etched in the record books, laying claim to the longest recorded sniper kill. Showing every bit as much ingenuity as accuracy, Hathcock is credited with a twenty-five-hundred-yard kill, accomplished by using a Browning .50 Caliber Machine Gun fit with a customized scope mount.
The legend grew on both sides of the lines during the course of his two tours as a sniper. In what must be considered the ultimate sign of respect, his petrified adversaries tagged him with the nickname "Long Tr'ang"-"White Feather"-after the adornment on his boonie hat.
That notoriety was followed by scores of countersnipers who flooded the region, including one known only as Cobra. A worthy opponent, the predator-prey balance continually shifted as the two snipers sought the upper hand in a dual destined to be decided by a single round. Hathcock caught a glint of light reflecting off the lens of his nemesis's optics, prompting the Marine to fire a headshot directly down through his enemy's scope moments before a lethal round could be sent in his direction.
Gunnery Sergeant Hathcock had been blessed with the innate tools to become the prototypical sniper. He could "dope" (read and adjust accordingly to) the wind with uncanny accuracy. He also boasted rare focus: when necessary Hathcock was able to go into single-minded bubble. It wasn't only his rifle and bullet that seemed to become an extension of himself, but the environment itself.
He also had rare charisma about him and a cult of personality gradually took shape. White Feather became the subject of endless books while inspiring numerous films and television programs. He remains a near-religious figure in the sniper community.
"I think I was one of many, many snipers who grew up reading the books about him," said Jack Murphy, who himself later became a sniper who served in the 75th Ranger Regiment and 5th Army Special Forces Group.
"I read that as a teenager-and I thought that was cool as hell. I really liked the idea that this guy was doing operations with just one other guy ... and he was even going out by himself sometimes. They really were a force multiplier. They were harassing and killing the enemy. There was one point where Carlos Hathcock and his spotter pinned down an NDA company in the Elephant Valley for, like, six days and kept calling in artillery strikes on them. When I read that I was like, 'Damn, that's cool.'"
Following the war, Hathcock put that profile-along with his refined skills and years of accumulated knowledge-to good use.
"Look historically at snipers as a tradecraft and you'll see it would get stood up-like during World War II-and then after the war there would be this decline in training and focus," explained Brandon Webb, former U.S. Navy SEAL Sniper Course Manager. "And then Vietnam comes around and all of a sudden we had to revive the tradecraft again. Only since Vietnam has there really been continuity among the training programs."
Hathcock took an active role in ensuring that subsequent generations of snipers would be shaped in his image. He was a driving force behind the establishment of a permanent sniper presence for the Corps, rather than waiting and only raising specialized sniper units in times of need. GySgt Hathcock leveraged his knowledge and influence to develop the USMC's Scout Sniper Basic Course in Quantico, Virginia.
For decades, the Scout Sniper Basic Course secured the Corps's leadership in the field. The course became recognized as the gold standard and served as the template that other leading courses throughout the world would subsequently follow.
Hathcock's individual accomplishments and the legacy he left behind transformed him into a symbol. Although he died in 1999, his impact still reverberates loudly in the sniper community.
* * *
Although the lessons learned by Hathcock and his ilk are still passed along to aspiring snipers and the popular image of the craft he forged remains ubiquitous, the modern-day special operations sniper has evolved into a new species-one that comes in a variety of lethal breeds.
The SOF (special operations forces) sniper has emerged the dominant hunter in a war without distinct boundaries. This new generation of sniper retains that edge that has always been granted a stealthy marksman capable of delivering precision fire at great distances. But bleeding-edge technology multiples that capability; it's not only rifles that serve as an extension of today's elite snipers, but fleets of tightly integrated aerial and satellite platforms as well.
Wielding the combined power of highly specialized SOF training, ballistics mastery, unblinking surveillance, close air support, and a team of dozens of subject-matter experts lending aid from afar, in the eyes of his adversaries the post-9/11 SOF sniper is nothing short of a technologically-enhanced warfighting demigod.
These are the men who turn the tide of battles both large and small. They do so with shots delivered across valleys, shots fired across rooms, and shots never fired at all.
They implement foreign policy at the ground level with their wits, skills, and technology. The world is subtly shaped from the shadows by men in MultiCam who exert more real-world influence than your average senator.
These are the virtuosos of precision warfare and reconnaissance. Tasked with the impossible, they are the ones who penetrate behind enemy lines, across borders, execute their orders, and escape unseen.
"If you ask any general who has commanded special operations forces on live operations, they will give great credit to the snipers-there is no more efficient mechanism," said Craig Sawyer, a former DEVGRU sniper. "It's a capability that is very, very valuable and effective. They carry out several functions for any special operations mission and it's always a vital one. They play a huge role."
They also come in a variety of forms. Some of today's spec ops snipers are clearly derived from the Hathcock line, simply remade for the modern world. Others are so far removed from that representation that their traditional sniper lineage is nearly unrecognizable.
Utilizing stacked skill sets to drive forward a truly revolutionary era of special operations, the new legends are every bit as epic as the old.
Copyright © 2014 by Chris Martin
Foreword copyright © 2014 by Eric Davis
