wrbones
08-10-02, 02:45 AM
Sgt. Justin Olson, wearing his ghillie suit, passes the reminder “Compromise Is Failure” on a door at the sniper scout school. (Frank Johnston - The Washington Post)
By Steve Vogel
Washington Post Staff Writer
Tuesday, August 6, 2002; Page B01
The two Marine Corps snipers were hidden in a bramble in the Virginia countryside, all but invisible. Their ghillie suits -- eerie, shaggy smocks that absorb light and disguise the human form -- were woven with foliage matching their surroundings.
All their exposed skin was painted in camouflage, although Cpl. Shawn McDaniel, with his big grin, had ignored his partner's sarcastic suggestion to put cammy paint on his teeth.
They called themselves Team Hoosier. Sgt. Geoff Schenher, 26, and McDaniel, 24, both from Indiana and attending the scout sniper school at Quantico Marine Corps Base, had already taken out one of the half-dozen enemy sniper teams moving through the woods, hunting for them. Now, they were lying in wait for more.
Schenher was covering the tree line with the long barrel of his M-40 sniper rifle. McDaniel, lying on his hip, was covering Schenher's rear with an assault rifle. They never spoke, instead using the tap-squeeze method to communicate if they heard anything.
In modern warfare, where super-sophisticated, high-tech weapons are able to destroy targets from long distances with increasing precision, snipers seem anachronistic.
But the snipers at Quantico are not worried about that. In Afghanistan, or wherever the war on terrorism goes, or the war after that, they know they will always get the call.
"Those kinds of skills -- stealth, patience, discipline and lethality -- will never go out of style on a battlefield, I don't care how high-tech it gets," said Lt. Col. George H. Bristol, who commanded sniper teams during the U.S. intervention in Somalia in 1993.
The woods had been very dark and shadowy when Team Hoosier took its position in the early morning. But as the day wore on and the sun intensified, it had grown brighter in the bramble. The team's position was slowly worsening, Schenher realized. He wished they were covered with more vegetation, but they'd had little time.
Now, Sgt. Robert Bowen and Cpl. Tim Scott were inching toward them. They were trained snipers, too, but they were at a distinct disadvantage: They were moving.
Schenher and McDaniel heard them coming a full minute before seeing them. They waited for Bowen and Scott to get close enough -- maybe 25 yards -- to make a positive ID.
Crack. It was a blank, but at that range, the shot couldn't help but startle.
Scott froze. He stared into the bramble where the shot had come from. All he could see were McDaniel's big white teeth, grinning at him.
'Precision Capability'
By Steve Vogel
Washington Post Staff Writer
Tuesday, August 6, 2002; Page B01
The two Marine Corps snipers were hidden in a bramble in the Virginia countryside, all but invisible. Their ghillie suits -- eerie, shaggy smocks that absorb light and disguise the human form -- were woven with foliage matching their surroundings.
All their exposed skin was painted in camouflage, although Cpl. Shawn McDaniel, with his big grin, had ignored his partner's sarcastic suggestion to put cammy paint on his teeth.
They called themselves Team Hoosier. Sgt. Geoff Schenher, 26, and McDaniel, 24, both from Indiana and attending the scout sniper school at Quantico Marine Corps Base, had already taken out one of the half-dozen enemy sniper teams moving through the woods, hunting for them. Now, they were lying in wait for more.
Schenher was covering the tree line with the long barrel of his M-40 sniper rifle. McDaniel, lying on his hip, was covering Schenher's rear with an assault rifle. They never spoke, instead using the tap-squeeze method to communicate if they heard anything.
In modern warfare, where super-sophisticated, high-tech weapons are able to destroy targets from long distances with increasing precision, snipers seem anachronistic.
But the snipers at Quantico are not worried about that. In Afghanistan, or wherever the war on terrorism goes, or the war after that, they know they will always get the call.
"Those kinds of skills -- stealth, patience, discipline and lethality -- will never go out of style on a battlefield, I don't care how high-tech it gets," said Lt. Col. George H. Bristol, who commanded sniper teams during the U.S. intervention in Somalia in 1993.
The woods had been very dark and shadowy when Team Hoosier took its position in the early morning. But as the day wore on and the sun intensified, it had grown brighter in the bramble. The team's position was slowly worsening, Schenher realized. He wished they were covered with more vegetation, but they'd had little time.
Now, Sgt. Robert Bowen and Cpl. Tim Scott were inching toward them. They were trained snipers, too, but they were at a distinct disadvantage: They were moving.
Schenher and McDaniel heard them coming a full minute before seeing them. They waited for Bowen and Scott to get close enough -- maybe 25 yards -- to make a positive ID.
Crack. It was a blank, but at that range, the shot couldn't help but startle.
Scott froze. He stared into the bramble where the shot had come from. All he could see were McDaniel's big white teeth, grinning at him.
'Precision Capability'