{"id":290,"date":"2024-06-17T17:04:53","date_gmt":"2024-06-17T17:04:53","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/demolinks2.com\/david-ramacitti\/?page_id=290"},"modified":"2024-07-09T17:38:57","modified_gmt":"2024-07-09T17:38:57","slug":"snipers-day","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/demolinks2.com\/david-ramacitti\/snipers-day\/","title":{"rendered":"Sniper\u2019s Day"},"content":{"rendered":"

[vc_section el_id=”booki-blo” woodmart_css_id=”666ce08fbeca7″ responsive_spacing=”eyJwYXJhbV90eXBlIjoid29vZG1hcnRfcmVzcG9uc2l2ZV9zcGFjaW5nIiwic2VsZWN0b3JfaWQiOiI2NjZjZTA4ZmJlY2E3Iiwic2hvcnRjb2RlIjoidmNfc2VjdGlvbiIsImRhdGEiOnsidGFibGV0Ijp7fSwibW9iaWxlIjp7fX19″ mobile_bg_img_hidden=”no” tablet_bg_img_hidden=”no” woodmart_parallax=”0″ woodmart_gradient_switch=”no” woodmart_box_shadow=”no” wd_z_index=”no” woodmart_disable_overflow=”0″][vc_row][vc_column][vc_custom_heading text=”Sample chapters from Sniper\u2019s Day,
\nBook Five in the Ro Delahanty Series” font_container=”tag:h1|font_size:40|text_align:center|color:%23af2405″ use_theme_fonts=”yes” css=”.vc_custom_1719966307452{margin-bottom: 0px !important;}”][\/vc_column][\/vc_row][vc_row css=”.vc_custom_1718411046127{padding-top: 50px !important;}” woodmart_css_id=”666cdf1e1f431″ responsive_spacing=”eyJwYXJhbV90eXBlIjoid29vZG1hcnRfcmVzcG9uc2l2ZV9zcGFjaW5nIiwic2VsZWN0b3JfaWQiOiI2NjZjZGYxZTFmNDMxIiwic2hvcnRjb2RlIjoidmNfcm93IiwiZGF0YSI6eyJ0YWJsZXQiOnt9LCJtb2JpbGUiOnt9fX0=” mobile_bg_img_hidden=”no” tablet_bg_img_hidden=”no” woodmart_parallax=”0″ woodmart_gradient_switch=”no” woodmart_box_shadow=”no” wd_z_index=”no” woodmart_disable_overflow=”0″ row_reverse_mobile=”0″ row_reverse_tablet=”0″][vc_column][vc_custom_heading text=”Chapter One” font_container=”tag:h1|font_size:50|text_align:center|color:%23af2405″ use_theme_fonts=”yes” css=”.vc_custom_1718411206520{margin-bottom: 0px !important;}”][vc_custom_heading text=”Sniper\u2019s Day” font_container=”tag:h1|font_size:55|text_align:center|color:%23000000″ use_theme_fonts=”yes” css=”.vc_custom_1720203579308{margin-bottom: 0px !important;}”][\/vc_column][\/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column]\t\t\t \t\t\t\t\t

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Monday, May 13, 2002<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

Lackland Air Force Base, San Antonio, Texas<\/em><\/p>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

\n\t\t\t

C<\/strong>aptain Bart Harmon ran his finger down the clipboard checking his recruits\u2019 rifle range qualifying results, seeing what he expected after a decade as an Air Force basic training command officer: a few poor scores in the teens and low-twenties; some barely qualifying in the upper-twenties; and a couple of decent ones in the lower-thirties.<\/p>\n

\u201cAt least this bunch seems to know one end of an M4 from the other,\u201d he commented to First Sergeant Vincent Delarosa, his Lead Drill Instructor.<\/p>\n

\u201cAin\u2019t nobody shot a foot off yet.\u201d<\/p>\n

It was a running joke among recruit training people. Given the strict safety rules and close supervision by range personnel, to their knowledge no one had ever actually \u201cshot a foot off.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cUnh,\u201d Harmon grunted. Two-thirds of the way down the list, a score of thirty-six brought his finger to a stop. With a frown of disbelief, he glanced up, \u201cThis for real?\u201d<\/p>\n

Delarosa, who had been training recruits at San Antonio\u2019s Lackland Air Force Base even longer than the captain, knew what caught his officer\u2019s attention. \u201cYes, Sir.\u201d<\/p>\n

All recruits, no matter which military branch they sign up for, receive similar basic training. As soldiers, they share a common, if not always likely possibility they could find themselves in combat. One required fundamental, therefore, is basic mastery of the M4 carbine, the standard long gun for most services. A minimum qualifying score is twenty-six out of forty pop-up targets from close range to up to three-hundred meters. Scores in the upper twenties are okay, in the lower thirties excellent. A thirty-six was extraordinary.<\/p>\n

Sliding his finger to the left, Harmon said, \u201cMeese, W. What\u2019s his story?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNothin\u2019 special, far as I can tell. You know how these kids are. They lay their hands on a weapon and start bragging what great hunters they\u2019ve been and are gonna ace the test.\u201d<\/p>\n

Harmon finished Delarosa\u2019s thought, \u201cAnd because they barely qualify, bitch up a storm something must be wrong with the weapon.\u201d<\/p>\n

The two shared a snicker, the type a boot camp clich\u00e9.<\/p>\n

\u201cHeard anything about this Meese\u2019s background?\u201d the officer said. \u201cI gather he didn\u2019t bring up hunting.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, Sir,\u201d Delarosa said with a shrug. \u201cWorked at a pizza joint before signing up. I heard him say he thinks he\u2019ll end up a food service specialist.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat kinda kid is he? Not another class clown, I hope.\u201d Neither the captain nor the sergeant had much use for recruits who didn\u2019t take their training seriously.<\/p>\n

Delarosa shook his head. \u201cHe\u2019s different. Quiet, keeps to himself. Doesn\u2019t pal-up with the others \u2013 you know, trade digs, tell jokes, play cards, eyeball the female recruits.\u201d<\/p>\n

To Delarosa, a recruit was a recruit; neither male nor female; just a warm body he needed to turn into a neophyte soldier. If he heard a sexist remark, it earned the entire squad twenty-five push-ups on the spot. Offenders soon learned to keep misogynistic thoughts to themselves.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s a little guy. Five-seven. No grousin\u2019 about the dust or sweat.\u201d Delarosa heard the gripe often in arid south-central Texas. Basic\u2019s first few weeks include rigorous physical challenges to assess the recruits\u2019 stamina but also to see who doesn\u2019t complain about the discomfort. That Meese wasn\u2019t a whiner earned him a few respect points with Delarosa and Harmon.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhen the range master handed him his weapon and instructed him on what to do,\u201d Delarosa continued, \u201che stepped up to the firing line and did it, nice as pie.\u201d<\/p>\n

Harmon raised his brows, pleased. \u201cAnd you were there? Saw this?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAlways am. I like seeing the way they handle a rifle for the first time. You know how some people can pick up a guitar and start pluckin\u2019 away like it was the easiest thing ever? It\u2019s the feeling I got watching him with his weapon.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s your gut telling you?\u201d Harmon respected his subordinate\u2019s opinion; smart officers always did.<\/p>\n

\u201cLike most kids these days, he signed up after 9\/11. Wanted to serve. I have the feeling he\u2019s driftin\u2019, lookin\u2019 for a place to land.\u201d It was not uncommon for young people barely out of their teens to hope military service might help them find a purpose.<\/p>\n

\u201cOkay\u2026 Look, I\u2019ll check his ASVAB, see if it tells us anything,\u201d Harmon said.<\/p>\n

All new enlistees take the Armed Services Vocational Aptitude Battery (ASVAB), a series of assessment tests which, along with their personal preferences, as well as what the service branch needs, determines their duty assignment.<\/p>\n

\u201cHere\u2019s what I want you to do,\u201d the captain told his sergeant. \u201cRun him through the qualifying round again. If his score is even close to this one, see what he can do at four-hundred, six-hundred, and eight-hundred meters.\u201d Eight-hundred meters is half-a-mile.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat should I tell him?\u201d<\/p>\n

Harmon shrugged. \u201cHe shot a high score. Probably knows it already from the other boots. Say you want to see if he can do it again.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019re you thinking, Sir, Robinson?\u201d Delarosa wondered aloud.<\/p>\n

The Air Force\u2019s Counter Sniper School was based at Camp Robinson, Arkansas. Counter snipers were used to augment security around the perimeter of combat zone air bases to prevent enemy snipers from plinking at friendlies or damaging planes or other equipment from long distances.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019ll see. Might be our first good sniper candidate in a couple years,\u201d Harmon said, sounding both hopeful and skeptical.<\/p>\n

Sgt. Delarosa returned three days later to report the recruit not only equaled, but bested his earlier score, hitting thirty-seven out of forty targets, including being perfect at eight-hundred meters, half-again the M4\u2019s official five-hundred-meter range. It was a phenomenal score. The young man\u2019s future in the Air Force was now ordained.<\/p>\n

Based on Harmon\u2019s strong recommendation, Meese, W., was sent to the Air Force\u2019s eleven-day Advanced Designated Marksman School (ADMS), followed by the even more intense nineteen-day Close Precision Engagement Course (CPEC). He finished near the top of his group in both.<\/p>\n

After graduating from CPEC in the fall of 2002, Meese was deployed to Afghanistan and assigned to a perimeter security detail at Bagram Airbase, the center of the U.S. presence in that troubled country.<\/p>\n

For four months, between October 2002 and February 2003, he and his spotter spent eight hours a day behind their respective scopes. In those months they wracked-up sixteen confirmed kills of Taliban snipers looking to damage the F-16s, Huey helicopters or giant C-130 cargo planes parked on Bagram\u2019s vast runways, or to harass American security patrols on the outskirts of the base. But Meese was part of a dozen teams competently executing similar duty, so his superiors agreed, given his unique abilities, he could be spared for a special assignment.<\/p>\n

What his instructors at CPEC had noticed was, besides deadly long-distance accuracy, the young recruit was good at field concealment, at keeping the enemy from knowing he was there until it was too late.<\/p>\n

And, even more crucially for the assignment the brass in Afghanistan were contemplating, he was a loner.<\/p>\n

Which is why, in the spring of 2003, he was sent back to the U.S. for a crash, two-week Marine Mountain Warfare Course at Bridgeport, California.<\/p>\n

All \u201cregular\u201d sniper schools, no matter which branch of the military is involved, receive most of their training on the M24, a variation of the widely respected Remington 700 bolt action hunting rifle. It\u2019s the sniper\u2019s workhorse, accurate out to five-hundred yards with a standard 7.62 NATO round, effective at up to fifteen-hundred yards, almost a mile, with the .338 Lapua Magnum round. While sniper trainees do get in a few practice shots with an M82, the powerful Barrett .50 caliber long range sniper weapon, for most it is a passing acquaintance. However, it was on this latter weapon Meese\u2019s California training concentrated, as well as at elevations of seven to near twelve-thousand feet.<\/p>\n

Because his new assignment meant he\u2019d be working at both those distances and those elevations.<\/p>\n

Returning to Afghanistan in May, although still officially based at Bagram, now Airman First Class Meese was reassigned as a Special Tactics Operator. It was never quite clear if he was still under direct military supervision or if another government agency \u2013 nobody said CIA, but that was the thinking \u2013 was now in charge to address a challenging problem the Americans faced.<\/p>\n

Harmon\u2019s earlier hunch proved fortuitous for both the Air Force and Meese. For the Air Force, because the officer found a valuable new asset; for the recruit, because it ultimately gave him the mission he didn\u2019t even realize he\u2019d been seeking.<\/p>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t[\/vc_column][\/vc_row][vc_row css=”.vc_custom_1718411046127{padding-top: 50px !important;}” woodmart_css_id=”666cdf1e1f431″ responsive_spacing=”eyJwYXJhbV90eXBlIjoid29vZG1hcnRfcmVzcG9uc2l2ZV9zcGFjaW5nIiwic2VsZWN0b3JfaWQiOiI2NjZjZGYxZTFmNDMxIiwic2hvcnRjb2RlIjoidmNfcm93IiwiZGF0YSI6eyJ0YWJsZXQiOnt9LCJtb2JpbGUiOnt9fX0=” mobile_bg_img_hidden=”no” tablet_bg_img_hidden=”no” woodmart_parallax=”0″ woodmart_gradient_switch=”no” woodmart_box_shadow=”no” wd_z_index=”no” woodmart_disable_overflow=”0″ row_reverse_mobile=”0″ row_reverse_tablet=”0″][vc_column][vc_custom_heading text=”Chapter Two” font_container=”tag:h1|font_size:50|text_align:center|color:%23af2405″ use_theme_fonts=”yes” css=”.vc_custom_1718412474420{margin-bottom: 0px !important;}”][vc_custom_heading text=”No Snipers Here” font_container=”tag:h1|font_size:50|text_align:center|color:%23000000″ use_theme_fonts=”yes” css=”.vc_custom_1719966364157{margin-bottom: 0px !important;}”]\t\t

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Monday, October 3, 2005, 8:05 a.m.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

Ft. Defiance Institute of Law Enforcement and Tactical Sciences, Estherville, Iowa<\/em><\/p>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

\n\t\t\t

I<\/strong>t was a ritual probably as old as Socrates\u2019 informal \u201cclasses\u201d held in the Agora of Athens nearly two-thousand year ago. The quiet, but nonetheless obvious checking out of your classmates. Today the seven strangers \u2013 five males and two females \u2013 were sitting in a modern classroom at a school with the cumbersome title of Ft. Defiance Institute of Law Enforcement and Tactical Sciences \u2013 Ft. Defiance for short \u2013 waiting for the instructor for their week-long \u201csniper\u201d training. Presumably, they were all part of a SWAT unit, since it was where law enforcement long distance shooters were usually assigned, except as they would soon learn, that was not the case.<\/p>\n

Ro Delahanty, a corporal with the Fort Armstrong County Sheriff\u2019s Department, was excited. Having completed her SWAT Basic course here at Ft. Defiance only two days ago, she was now staying on to earn her Designated Marksman Certification. She had been sent to Ft. Defiance to become part of a newly expanded, regional SWAT team back in her home area and was slated to be the unit\u2019s first designated marksman.<\/p>\n

The previous two weeks for her had literally been a total immersion in cop life, right down to everyone wearing genderless black tactical uniforms. There were no names, no ranks, no personal information, only military-style alpha designations: for the fortnight, she was simply Whiskey. She loved every minute of it and was now looking forward to yet another week of quite legitimately getting to play with guns.<\/p>\n

A squared away, forty-something military-type strode into the room.<\/p>\n

\u201cGood morning, everyone, I\u2019m Captain Soule.\u201d<\/p>\n

While he wore a smile and was casually dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt, you nonetheless still felt like you should stand up and salute the man.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ve been with the NYPD for a little over twenty-five years, twelve of those with SWAT and eight as a DM.\u201d<\/p>\n

NYPD! That by itself established Soule\u2019s creds. He had seen 9\/11 and heaven only knows what other kinds of heavy shit. He didn\u2019t have to say he also held a graduate degree, as it was a minimum requirement for teaching at Ft. Defiance.<\/p>\n

\u201cNow that you know my bona fides, let\u2019s find out about yours.\u201d<\/p>\n

He pointed at one of the males in the group, clearly of Pacific Islander heritage.<\/p>\n

\u201cHi. I\u2019m Piko Kapano, with the Honolulu PD,\u201d he said. \u201cSWAT for three years.\u201d<\/p>\n

Soule grinned. \u201cWhat Piko hasn\u2019t told you is before he was a cop, he was a Navy Seal.\u201d<\/p>\n

It produced mumbles of awe, as well as a comment by one of the other males, a tall, Marlboro Man lookalike. \u201cMan, what\u2019re you doin\u2019 here? A Seal doesn\u2019t need instructions on bein\u2019 a sniper.\u201d<\/p>\n

Kapano shook his head. \u201cA popular misconception. Seals are really more like SWAT door kickers. Our primary mission is close combat. Only a few are good enough to become snipers.\u201d<\/p>\n

It quickly became obvious Soule did his homework about his students, as there was always something noteworthy and positive to add about their backgrounds.<\/p>\n

As he worked through the group, there were two real surprises.<\/p>\n

When Soule pointed to the single Black man, he introduced himself with a noticeable accent. \u201cI\u2019m Desmond Kindhouse from Lagos, Nigeria.\u201d Then added cryptically, \u201cI\u2019m in private security.\u201d<\/p>\n

What was even more surprising was Soule let that go, resulting in some exchanged raised eyebrow looks.<\/p>\n

When Soule turned to the only other female besides Ro, the forty-something woman wearing a red hoodie with \u201cDillon\u2019s Gunsmith\u201d across the front, the silhouette of a pump action shotgun between the words, announced, \u201cI suspect I may be the only civilian in the room. Rikki Dillon, from Winchester, Virginia.\u201d She held up a hand, like swearing, \u201cFor truth\u2026 We\u2019re about an hour-and-a-half west of Washington, DC, in the mountains. My husband and I have competed in small bore rifle shooting for years. I signed up for the class because we\u2019re thinking about moving up to the big bore level.\u201d Then chuckled. \u201cI hear we even get to shoot with a Barrett.\u201d<\/p>\n

While ninety percent of Ft. Defiance\u2019s students were in law enforcement, as a licensed private technical school it enrolled anyone who wanted to sign up. One of their more popular \u201cclasses\u201d was a three-day, weekend session called Tactical Fundamentals, in which civilian-types got to dress up in camo gear and blast away with automatic weapons.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo, who\u2019s the shooter, you or your husband?\u201d muttered another of the males, this one with a self-important air.<\/p>\n

Turning on the man, Soule raised a warning finger. There were three absolute rules at Ft. Defiance: no booze, no sexual contact, and no sexism.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat Ms. Dillon isn\u2019t telling you is she is a three-time NRA\u201d \u2013 National Rifle Association, the principal sponsor of small-bore contests \u2013 \u201cnational champion and holds the record for the longest small bore shot at five-hundred yards.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cA twenty-two can\u2019t shoot that far,\u201d the Marlboro Man muttered.<\/p>\n

Everyone knew a .22 caliber rifle, the standard for small bore competitions, wasn\u2019t worth a damn at anything over a hundred yards, so a five-hundred-yard shot was preposterous. The Barrett Dillon was looking forward to trying was twice the size and many times the knockdown power of a .22.<\/p>\n

Soule held up his hands in a \u201cWell, she did it\u201d gesture.<\/p>\n

Dillon flashed the group a sly smile. \u201cI like winning.\u201d<\/p>\n

Then Soule nodded toward Ro, who took the hint. \u201cCorporal Ro Delahanty. I\u2019m a deputy sheriff from eastern Iowa.\u201d<\/p>\n

Soule winked at Ro, then addressed the rest of the group. \u201cWe\u2019ve got five SWAT people here, right?\u201d There were nods of agreement. \u201cSo, how many of you were the Top Dog in your SWAT graduating class?\u201d Besides earning their SWAT certification by successfully completing the two-week training course, the group\u2019s best student also won the distinction of being Top Dog. There were glances around, finally focusing on Ro, whose was the only raised hand. Again, several eyebrows went up.<\/p>\n

Just the day before yesterday, Saturday, an all-female team led by Ro won the \u201cfinal exam\u201d of the SWAT training, an assault exercise against a heavily armed and barricaded ersatz terrorist group, earning her the prized designation.<\/p>\n

The Marlboro Man introduced himself as Shane Billings, a Wyoming State Trooper.<\/p>\n

\u201cShane is part of an unusual, mounted SWAT team,\u201d Soule said. Everyone knew it meant horse mounted.<\/p>\n

Billings shrugged. \u201cWe\u2019ve got lots of open country with no roads.\u201d<\/p>\n

The arrogant one turned out to be Brad Unger, with Florida\u2019s Broward County Sheriff\u2019s Department, who also served as the Technical Advisor to a high school-based Junior Reserve Officer\u2019s Training Corps program.<\/p>\n

The final male, Gene Hudson, was not only a police officer, but a fire-fighter and paramedic, part of a unique, combined Emergency Responder Department in Michigan.<\/p>\n

\u201cOkay,\u201d Soule said, \u201cnow that we\u2019re all acquainted, let\u2019s deal with some basics.\u201d After a pause for effect, he added, \u201cNone of you are going to be snipers.\u201d<\/p>\n

This produced glances of \u201cWhere\u2019s he going with this?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAt least not true snipers. The training you are about to receive is all about precision.\u00a0 Which includes understanding your real job description. I know the terms \u2018designated marksman\u2019 and \u2018sniper\u2019 tend to be used interchangeably by those who don\u2019t know better, but they are not the same thing. True snipers are exclusively military and either work with a spotter or alone, as in special ops types. Besides being sharpshooters, they are concerned with stealth and camouflage. And always work at great distances, a minimum of seven-hundred-yards, usually more.<\/p>\n

\u201cA designated marksman, on the other hand, can be either military or a LEO\u201d \u2013 law enforcement officer \u2013 \u201cand are always part of a larger team, like a SWAT unit or a fireteam.\u00a0 They are not concerned with concealment, have no spotter, and invariably work at shorter distances, under five-hundred-yards. This distinction is why this class is called Designated Marksman Certification and is what we\u2019ll be concentrating on for the next week.\u201d But then grinned at Dillon. \u201cAnd yes, you will <\/em>get in a few practice rounds with a Barrett.\u201d<\/p>\n

She responded with a thumbs up.<\/p>\n

Over their week together, the pattern was mornings in the classroom, learning about the history of snipers \u2013 Soule would emphasize some of the deadliest snipers in history were female \u2013 as well as the science behind what kind cartridge was optimum for long range shooting and the trigonometry involved in compensating for a bullet\u2019s changing trajectory over distance.<\/p>\n

The afternoons were spent \u201cin the field,\u201d which meant over six days putting a thousand rounds through a variety of long-distance guns, including the Barrett and its Russian counterpart, the Dragunov, as well as the modified M16 used by military designated marksman, but spending most of their time with a Remington 700P LTR, the most widely used law enforcement DM\u2019s weapon.<\/p>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t[\/vc_column][\/vc_row][vc_row css=”.vc_custom_1718411046127{padding-top: 50px !important;}” woodmart_css_id=”666cdf1e1f431″ responsive_spacing=”eyJwYXJhbV90eXBlIjoid29vZG1hcnRfcmVzcG9uc2l2ZV9zcGFjaW5nIiwic2VsZWN0b3JfaWQiOiI2NjZjZGYxZTFmNDMxIiwic2hvcnRjb2RlIjoidmNfcm93IiwiZGF0YSI6eyJ0YWJsZXQiOnt9LCJtb2JpbGUiOnt9fX0=” mobile_bg_img_hidden=”no” tablet_bg_img_hidden=”no” woodmart_parallax=”0″ woodmart_gradient_switch=”no” woodmart_box_shadow=”no” wd_z_index=”no” woodmart_disable_overflow=”0″ row_reverse_mobile=”0″ row_reverse_tablet=”0″][vc_column][vc_custom_heading text=”Chapter Three” font_container=”tag:h1|font_size:50|text_align:center|color:%23af2405″ use_theme_fonts=”yes” css=”.vc_custom_1718412686382{margin-bottom: 0px !important;}”][vc_custom_heading text=”Elimination Challenge” font_container=”tag:h1|font_size:50|text_align:center|color:%23000000″ use_theme_fonts=”yes” css=”.vc_custom_1719966450349{margin-bottom: 0px !important;}”]\t\t

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Saturday, October 8, 2005, 8:30 a.m.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

Ft. Defiance Institute of Law Enforcement and Tactical Sciences, Estherville, Iowa<\/em><\/p>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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F<\/strong>ire at will!\u201d Soule called to the seven competitors lined up in prone positions on their shooting pads, each with their bolt action Remingtons pointed downrange. It was the class final exam, informally known as the elimination challenge.<\/p>\n

Within slightly over a second there were seven sharp cracks, like a series of cherry bombs going off at someone\u2019s July Fourth barbecue, followed a few seconds later by a second round, then a bit more spaced out, a final round, but all completed within thirty seconds.<\/p>\n

They were sighting in at one-hundred yards on a twelve-inch square paper target with a dark outlined, nine-inch by seven-inch oval \u2013 that dimension because it was the rough equivalent of a head shot, the preferred objective for a designated marksman, as it was assumed their target would likely be wearing a bullet resistant vest.<\/p>\n

The shooters all turned to their instructor standing a couple of yards behind the firing line looking through a tripod mounted high-power spotting scope. After a few seconds, he held up a hand and announced, \u201cAll hits. Good job, everyone!\u201d<\/p>\n

It meant all seven shooters had \u201cpassed\u201d phase one of the exam.<\/p>\n

Ro found the first round easy. A seasoned competitor, at age eleven she won her first youth division skeet shooting championship out at Witness Tree Rod and Gun Club, where her father was a member. Over the next decade competing and prevailing in a half dozen more shooting competitions with a shotgun and later a handgun. She did not enter for competition\u2019s sake, though, but because she thought it would help make her a better cop, her never abandoned career ambition since the fifth grade.<\/p>\n

They were firing .308 Winchester cartridges from a ten-round detachable magazine. The weapon was equipped with a bipod at the end of the fore stock, and a Leupold MK4 10x44mm scope, all the standard choice in law enforcement.<\/p>\n

The shooters needed to pass two more phases to earn their Designated Marksman Certification. Each phase included three shots from a prone position to be executed within sixty seconds. The first phase, just completed, was at one-hundred-yards, the next was at two-hundred, and the third at three-hundred yards out. Any miss in those nine shots and you failed the exam.<\/p>\n

The stanchion holding the downrange targets folded forward, revealing a second set of similar targets, now two football fields distant. Of course, the targets were noticeably smaller, producing nervous rustles as the shooters sought more comfortable aiming positions.<\/p>\n

\u201cFire when ready,\u201d Soule announced.<\/p>\n

This round of twenty-one shots was even more scattered, as various shooters took more time to make sure of their aim, completing the round with twelve seconds to spare.<\/p>\n

Remington 700s have a reputation for accuracy out to about five-hundred yards, so a two-hundred-yard shot was well within its, if not necessarily the shooter\u2019s comfort zone.<\/p>\n

A second \u201cAll hits\u201d announcement produced several audible expressions of relief.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re almost there, folks. Stay cool,\u201d Soule urged.<\/p>\n

When the third stanchion was raised, now at three-hundred yards, the targets looked like postage stamps held at arm\u2019s length. While no one actually said, \u201cOh, shit,\u201d it was clearly the prevailing mood.<\/p>\n

Now things were becoming difficult. At three-hundred yards, even a small unnoticed puff of wind can deflect the bullet\u2019s trajectory by an inch or so. If the shooter\u2019s original aim was off even a little, it could result in a dreaded miss.<\/p>\n

According to one of Soule\u2019s previous morning lectures, ninety percent of law enforcement designated marksman engage targets at less than a hundred-and-fifty yards. Shots at two-hundred-fifty were rare but not unheard of; for a cop, a three-hundred-yard shot was awesome.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t forget your breathing,\u201d their instructor reminded the group. During their practice rounds, it was emphasized over and over breathing was the secret to controlling your nerves.<\/p>\n

\u201cFire when ready.\u201d<\/p>\n

A full three seconds passed before the first shot was fired, as they were now trying to be extra careful with their sighting.<\/p>\n

This phase was completed with only two seconds to spare.<\/p>\n

For the fifteen seconds it took Soule to check the targets through his scope, no one breathed.<\/p>\n

His \u201cAll hits\u201d announcement produced cheers and applause.<\/p>\n

\u201cCongratulations, you\u2019ve passed your final exam! You all earned your Designated Marksman Certification,\u201d Soule said. \u201cParticipation in the next phase, the Top Shooter Elimination Challenge, is optional, anyone who wishes to can stand down.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hudson, the combined emergency first responder from Michigan, and Unger, the JROTC advisor from Florida, both opened the bolts on their weapons, laid them on their sides, and pushed themselves up from the mats.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m out,\u201d Unger said, stalking from the firing line without another word.<\/p>\n

\u201cI can\u2019t imagine I\u2019ll ever need to worry about a four-hundred-yard shot,\u201d Hudson said as he left.<\/p>\n

\u201cAh, things do get interesting now,\u201d Soule said to the remaining five shooters. \u201cLook, let\u2019s take a short break. Stand up and move around a little, work out the kinks.\u201d<\/p>\n

The elimination challenge used the same basic format as earlier, firing three rounds from the prone position, but now at the daunting distances of four-hundred, five-hundred, six-hundred-yards, and beyond if needed. Again, a single miss and you were bounced.<\/p>\n

Returning to the firing line, the remaining shooters replaced their magazines with fresh ones and took their previous positions: Ro in position one; Kindhouse in position two; Dillon, in position three; Kapano in position five; Billings in position seven.<\/p>\n

Pushing herself up to see over Kindhouse, Dillon flashed Ro a devilish smile and mouthed, \u201cNot bad!\u201d<\/p>\n

Ro acknowledged with a casual left-handed salute.<\/p>\n

At four-hundred yards, to the naked eye the targets now looked like tiny white dots. There were audibly expelled breaths of disbelief.<\/p>\n

To aid the shooters, in the center of the stanchion holding the targets was a tall pole with a long yellow ribbon attached, like a few feet of the \u201cDo not enter\u201d tape around an accident or crime scene. It was intended to give a sense of both the direction and strength of any wind out on the range.<\/p>\n

Contrary to what most hunters do, which is to close the eye not looking through the scope, they were told the opposite, \u201cKeep both eyes open. You want a sense of the entire scene, not only the target.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ro slowed her breathing, steady and deep, then waited until the bottom end of the yellow ribbon was visible at the top of her scope, which meant there was very little wind. Feeling confident her scope was positioned on the upper center of the oval, she squeezed off her three shots in quick succession, but then needed to wait for more than half a minute for the remainder of the shooters, who were taking their time.<\/p>\n

Unable to help herself, she wondered, Was that a mistake? Am I gonna be eliminated?<\/em><\/p>\n

She was enough of a competitor, though mostly with herself, to not want to be knocked out in the first round.<\/p>\n

The firing stopped. For nearly a half minute the shooters held their breath.<\/p>\n

Then came the instructor\u2019s dreaded announcement, \u201cMiss on number seven.\u201d Billings, the state trooper from Wyoming. It meant the remaining shooters would be Ro, Kindhouse, Dillon, and Kapano.<\/p>\n

\u201cNumber seven, stand down,\u201d Soule said.<\/p>\n

Pushing himself up from the mat, Billings asked Soule, \u201cCan you tell where my miss was?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou were about two inches wide to the right.\u201d<\/p>\n

Billings shook his head. \u201cI\u2019m pretty sure I hurried that last shot because I thought I was running out of time.\u201d Giving himself a gentle slap on the forehead, he muttered, \u201cSlow down dunderhead.\u201d Then turning to the remaining shooters, added, \u201cGood luck.\u201d<\/p>\n

Their next challenge was at five-hundred-yards, nearing the official effective range of their weapon. The quartet turned back to their positions, worked the bolts, and waited.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, God,\u201d muttered Kapano looking downrange at the new stanchion. At five-hundred yards, even with their scopes, the targets looked tiny.<\/p>\n

\u201cFire at will,\u201d Soule said.<\/p>\n

A total of twelve reports from the four remaining shooters were scattered all throughout the minute. In fact, Kapano\u2019s last shot was on the exact moment Soule\u2019s stopwatch hit the sixty second mark; the instructor let it pass.<\/p>\n

The \u201cAll hits\u201d verdict produced a series of overlapping comments: \u201cWell done,\u201d from Soule. \u201cHot damn,\u201d from Kapano. Dillon looked over at Ro, waggled her eyebrows, and said, \u201cWe\u2019re still in it. Not bad, huh?\u201d Ro, knowing it was a comment on the fact that two females were in the finals, bobbed her head in agreement.<\/p>\n

At six-hundred yards, Kindhouse missed. He didn\u2019t even wait for Soule to give the \u201cStand down\u201d order, just pushed up from the mat and left, not bothering to inquire about his miss. As he passed behind Ro, she thought he muttered something under his breath like, \u201cYou\u2019ll have to do better.\u201d<\/p>\n

On the one hand, it could have been nothing more than a gentle self-rebuke for a missed shot, but on the other, given his secretive demeanor so far, it could suggest an anxiety he might not be ready for an already agreed upon mission \u2013 like what?<\/p>\n

Only Ro, Kapano. and Dillon remained.<\/p>\n

The next round of targets was at seven-hundred yards. Now, even the slightest breeze, the thickness of the air (humidity), and most of all, the relentless enemy of long-distance shooters, gravity, all came into play.<\/p>\n

\u201cOutstanding, no misses,\u201d declared Soule. \u201cYou three are the cream of the crop.\u201d<\/p>\n

Kapano lowered his Remington to its side and shook his head. \u201cI always figured I\u2019d be lucky to qualify at three-hundred yards. But, more than twice that\u2026 Wow!\u201d<\/p>\n

Ro reached over and gave his right arm a squeeze. \u201cYou\u2019re a good shooter, Kapano, don\u2019t let anyone tell you differently.\u201d<\/p>\n

But his luck ran out at eight-hundred yards. Of the three, he was the only one with a miss.<\/p>\n

Pushing himself partly up from the prone position, now crouching on his knees, he looked over at the two women to his right. \u201cMy wife is so gonna love it when I tell her you two outshot all the males in the group.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you saying she\u2019s got a feminist streak?\u201d Dillon asked.<\/p>\n

Kapano laughed. \u201cA mile wide.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGo, girl, go,\u201d Dillon exclaimed.<\/p>\n

Hoisting himself upright, he walked around behind Dillon and stepped into the slot between the two women emptied by Kindhouse. Dropping to one knee, he reached out with both hands and touched each woman on the shoulder, \u201cGood shooting.\u201d<\/p>\n

As he backed away, Ro looked up. \u201cBe safe out there.\u201d It was a standard cop-to-cop farewell.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou, too,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

Dillon, also addressing him, said, \u201cGirl\u2019s rule!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThey do today,\u201d he agreed.<\/p>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t[\/vc_column][\/vc_row][\/vc_section]<\/p>\n<\/div>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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