Sniper Revenge!

“Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord.” (Romans 12:19) This post cannot be fully understood without reading the prior story, The Day I Cried (last post). This sequel happened a few weeks later, but it brought closure to my thoughts on snipers. My role remained to save lives. However, the days in Vietnam took their toll. I viewed this passive experience as a gift…to a noncombatant.

I have a penchant for hot chocolate and cookies. [I am drinking some now, to refresh my memory.] The army supplied both. However, my morning break was rudely interrupted. A sniper opened fired and changed the whole mood of the unit. In this case, he awoke the sleeping tiger.

The C4 (plastic explosives) had just brought my cup of chocolate to a tasty boil. I loved that instant heat. My can of cookies was popped and readied to enjoy. When the sniper shot, everyone hit the ground. However, I didn’t want to spill my chocolate. I’d been thinking all morning about savoring this cup. While carefully planting my cup on the ground, I crouched dutifully to spy the sniper. At this juncture I surmised a limited threat and hesitated to ruin my morning delight. I eased myself into a comfortable position.

We were operating at platoon size (30 troops). Two of our guys began to work their way toward him, on both of the sniper’s flanks. They stalked their prey like a pair of old hunting dogs.  Our sole enemy became quite preoccupied. He was close enough that I could easily read his body language. I felt strangely safe, and drawn into the situation.

Now the only shots fired were from our men. The sniper would look at one…the other trooper would fire at him. They swapped this technique back and forth while closing in. This was definitely a lose-lose proposition for this sniper. He poorly selected his position; the area behind him was open, affording no cover for retreat. The two troopers advance to the point of no flight. They had him. It was just a matter of time.

I lifted my cup of chocolate for more piping hot sips. The guys around me harassed, “Doc, get your butt down!” I replied, “I see him clearly. He has a lot on his mind…for now.” I never left my eyes off him, as I reached for another cookie.

Our two troops had him pinned to his tree. He resigned himself, that he was a goner. The noose round him tightened. He completely gave up firing back. My cookies were almost depleted, when he bolted. It was too little…too late. Our men shot him dead, in a split second.

We were in Vietnam to kill. That is a hard thing to explain to civilians. I hated no one, but I really hated the possibility of one of our guys getting hurt. We were family…nobody else mattered. Thirty guys going in and thirty guys leaving unscathed, is a beautiful sight to a combat medic.

Our enemy forces purposely hid their own wounded and killed from us. It hurt psychologically to see your own fallen, without the satisfaction of clear reciprocity.  Pent up anger was common within our unit. I never saw abuse. However, this poor man shot at the wrong soldiers.

I think I am a nice man. But I didn’t want this sniper to get away. Otherwise, he would return to threaten us, or another unit like us. I doubted this man shot my friend; that sniper had great technique. But this event settled my mind…as if my friend did not die in vain.

We had great soldiers. This is not an isolated case of military expertise. Our enemy respected us…perhaps feared us. Our men had a tough thankless job. I for one am thankful for our warriors.

Currahees…we all took turns checking out the one who didn’t get away.