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03-18-03, 06:34 AM
If Marine 'Doc' Must Pick Up a Gun, It Will Be a Sniper Rifle
By Jonathan Finer
Washington Post Staff Writer
Tuesday, March 18, 2003; Page A17
LIVING SUPPORT AREA 7, Kuwait, March 17 -- Allan Espiritu spends about half of his time training to save lives, and the other half preparing to take them.
As a Navy corpsman, he carries 40 pounds of medical gear to provide first aid to wounded Marines. But as a graduate of the Marine Corps sniper school, he is also handy with an M40A1 rifle that could take out an Iraqi general from 1,000 yards.
The Hippocratic oath to "do no harm" might seem hard to reconcile with the sniper's creed of "kill one, terrorize a thousand," but Espiritu seems comfortable in both roles.
"It's an unusual combination," said the congenial 25-year-old Californian who will accompany a platoon of Marine snipers across the border if U.S. forces invade Iraq. "But being a sniper is about more than just killing. And one of the first rules of medicine I learned is that sometimes the best thing you can do for your patients is suppress fire. It'll depend on the circumstances what exactly my role will be."
Espiritu estimates he is one of only five Navy corpsmen among 250 active Marine Corps snipers. Corpsmen, or "docs" as the Marines call them, are noncombatants on the battlefield, prohibited from offensive fighting. They are accorded certain protections by the Geneva Convention of 1949 that ordinary ground troops are not, such as the right to treat their patients if they are taken prisoner.
In conflicts such as World War II and the Vietnam War, medical personnel, some of whom wore red crosses on their uniforms, were often among the first U.S. troops targeted by enemy forces, because of their value to their units. To defend their patients or themselves, corpsmen are allowed to shoot back, though if they use weapons in an offensive fashion they forfeit their protected status.
Espiritu said he knows his primary mission is to see to the medical needs of his platoon. The Geneva Convention is printed in black ink on the back of his military identification card and he can recite its dictates from memory. But should a fellow sniper fall, he said, he is prepared to step into a two-man sniper team to help the platoon complete its objective.
"Doc is one of the best shooters we have," said Lt. Kendrick Neal, 26, commander of the sniper platoon for the 1st Battalion, 7th Marine Regiment, to which Espiritu is assigned. "But shooting is only about 10 percent of the job and the rest is reconnaissance. We are the eyes and ears of the battalion. We go behind the lines to find the enemy and call in air support if we need it. We are also experts in cover and concealment. He [Espiritu] gives us an extra degree of flexibility because we could use him to make a two-man team if we needed to."
A conflict with Iraq could produce unusually difficult circumstances for Espiritu no matter which role he plays. Corpsmen for the first time could have to treat patients exposed to a lethal assortment of chemical and biological agents. Snipers will be slinking around a flat, barren desert with few places to hide.
To prepare for both situations, Espiritu trained with both groups this week. He attended lectures by the battalion surgeon, Hank Liang, a 29-year-old Navy lieutenant, on field medicine and dealing with chemical attacks.
He also joined the snipers on the range as they test-fired a newly adjusted SASR .50-caliber rifle, which fires an armor-piercing round. He served as an observer for a platoon sergeant, helping to direct the weapon's fire.
Espiritu, who was born in the Philippines, said that his father, an accountant, and his mother, a hotel manager, don't fully understand his two jobs. They wanted him to finish college, but he enlisted in the Navy after a semester at a school in his home town of Oxnard, Calif.
He had thought of becoming a doctor or a physician's assistant, so he enrolled in the 14-week Navy corpsmen's school and later became certified as an emergency medical technician. Physically fit with a sturdy build, he was assigned to work with Marine snipers.
Four years ago, a slot at the sniper school at Camp Lejeune, N.C., opened up at the last minute, and Espiritu's platoon asked him if he wanted to train alongside Marines, British special forces and Navy SEALs. He jumped at the chance.
At the completion of the rigorous three-month course, the trainees were required to hit a three-inch diameter target with 85 percent of their shots from 1,000 yards. In addition to a series of strenuous physical fitness tests, they were given a memory exam.
Twelve items were placed on a blanket for about 30 seconds and the trainees were told to focus on them while instructors shouted in their faces and poured sand over their heads to distract them. Then, after a few hours of physical activity, they were asked to recall what they had seen.
Out of 32 in the class, the young corpsman was one of 12 who passed the course.
Now, he said, it will be difficult to resist the urge to fight back if his platoon comes under fire. He doubts the Iraqi army would honor his noncombatant status if he were taken captive. "From what I know about that government, it seems like they probably wouldn't care if I am a corpsman or not," he said.
The medical officer, Liang, said his corpsman's sniper training will "give him a better understanding of his patients and allow him to do a better job of keeping himself and his platoon safe out there."
Like most corpsmen, Espiritu does not wear a telltale red cross on his uniform, because in past wars it became something of a bull's-eye. But unlike most snipers, he doesn't wear the trademark bullet around his neck he was awarded after sniper school -- the one that is said to have been "meant for him."
"I left mine at home in a drawer," Espiritu said. "Out here, it's sometimes safer if people don't have any idea who you are."
By Jonathan Finer
Washington Post Staff Writer
Tuesday, March 18, 2003; Page A17
LIVING SUPPORT AREA 7, Kuwait, March 17 -- Allan Espiritu spends about half of his time training to save lives, and the other half preparing to take them.
As a Navy corpsman, he carries 40 pounds of medical gear to provide first aid to wounded Marines. But as a graduate of the Marine Corps sniper school, he is also handy with an M40A1 rifle that could take out an Iraqi general from 1,000 yards.
The Hippocratic oath to "do no harm" might seem hard to reconcile with the sniper's creed of "kill one, terrorize a thousand," but Espiritu seems comfortable in both roles.
"It's an unusual combination," said the congenial 25-year-old Californian who will accompany a platoon of Marine snipers across the border if U.S. forces invade Iraq. "But being a sniper is about more than just killing. And one of the first rules of medicine I learned is that sometimes the best thing you can do for your patients is suppress fire. It'll depend on the circumstances what exactly my role will be."
Espiritu estimates he is one of only five Navy corpsmen among 250 active Marine Corps snipers. Corpsmen, or "docs" as the Marines call them, are noncombatants on the battlefield, prohibited from offensive fighting. They are accorded certain protections by the Geneva Convention of 1949 that ordinary ground troops are not, such as the right to treat their patients if they are taken prisoner.
In conflicts such as World War II and the Vietnam War, medical personnel, some of whom wore red crosses on their uniforms, were often among the first U.S. troops targeted by enemy forces, because of their value to their units. To defend their patients or themselves, corpsmen are allowed to shoot back, though if they use weapons in an offensive fashion they forfeit their protected status.
Espiritu said he knows his primary mission is to see to the medical needs of his platoon. The Geneva Convention is printed in black ink on the back of his military identification card and he can recite its dictates from memory. But should a fellow sniper fall, he said, he is prepared to step into a two-man sniper team to help the platoon complete its objective.
"Doc is one of the best shooters we have," said Lt. Kendrick Neal, 26, commander of the sniper platoon for the 1st Battalion, 7th Marine Regiment, to which Espiritu is assigned. "But shooting is only about 10 percent of the job and the rest is reconnaissance. We are the eyes and ears of the battalion. We go behind the lines to find the enemy and call in air support if we need it. We are also experts in cover and concealment. He [Espiritu] gives us an extra degree of flexibility because we could use him to make a two-man team if we needed to."
A conflict with Iraq could produce unusually difficult circumstances for Espiritu no matter which role he plays. Corpsmen for the first time could have to treat patients exposed to a lethal assortment of chemical and biological agents. Snipers will be slinking around a flat, barren desert with few places to hide.
To prepare for both situations, Espiritu trained with both groups this week. He attended lectures by the battalion surgeon, Hank Liang, a 29-year-old Navy lieutenant, on field medicine and dealing with chemical attacks.
He also joined the snipers on the range as they test-fired a newly adjusted SASR .50-caliber rifle, which fires an armor-piercing round. He served as an observer for a platoon sergeant, helping to direct the weapon's fire.
Espiritu, who was born in the Philippines, said that his father, an accountant, and his mother, a hotel manager, don't fully understand his two jobs. They wanted him to finish college, but he enlisted in the Navy after a semester at a school in his home town of Oxnard, Calif.
He had thought of becoming a doctor or a physician's assistant, so he enrolled in the 14-week Navy corpsmen's school and later became certified as an emergency medical technician. Physically fit with a sturdy build, he was assigned to work with Marine snipers.
Four years ago, a slot at the sniper school at Camp Lejeune, N.C., opened up at the last minute, and Espiritu's platoon asked him if he wanted to train alongside Marines, British special forces and Navy SEALs. He jumped at the chance.
At the completion of the rigorous three-month course, the trainees were required to hit a three-inch diameter target with 85 percent of their shots from 1,000 yards. In addition to a series of strenuous physical fitness tests, they were given a memory exam.
Twelve items were placed on a blanket for about 30 seconds and the trainees were told to focus on them while instructors shouted in their faces and poured sand over their heads to distract them. Then, after a few hours of physical activity, they were asked to recall what they had seen.
Out of 32 in the class, the young corpsman was one of 12 who passed the course.
Now, he said, it will be difficult to resist the urge to fight back if his platoon comes under fire. He doubts the Iraqi army would honor his noncombatant status if he were taken captive. "From what I know about that government, it seems like they probably wouldn't care if I am a corpsman or not," he said.
The medical officer, Liang, said his corpsman's sniper training will "give him a better understanding of his patients and allow him to do a better job of keeping himself and his platoon safe out there."
Like most corpsmen, Espiritu does not wear a telltale red cross on his uniform, because in past wars it became something of a bull's-eye. But unlike most snipers, he doesn't wear the trademark bullet around his neck he was awarded after sniper school -- the one that is said to have been "meant for him."
"I left mine at home in a drawer," Espiritu said. "Out here, it's sometimes safer if people don't have any idea who you are."