Lilith
Copyright© 2025 by Megumi Kashuahara
Chapter 4: The Journey West
FORWARD OPERATING BASE MAREZ, IRAQ
APRIL 2015
The days blurred together in the Iraqi heat.
Mission. Debrief. Sleep. Repeat.
Shira fell into the rhythm of constant operations—the heartbeat of a forward deployed sniper working with Rangers on active rotation. Every 48-72 hours, another target. Another compound. Another ISIS cell to eliminate.
Third Platoon ran hard. They were hunting high-value targets in and around Mosul, chipping away at ISIS leadership one precision raid at a time. And Lilith—as everyone now called her—provided the overwatch that kept them alive.
After the first mission, the skepticism evaporated. She was simply part of the team.
MISSION VIGNETTE 1: THE BRIDGE
APRIL 18, 2015
Intel identified an ISIS weapons cache in a compound near a bridge on the Tigris River, 15 kilometers north of Mosul. The bridge was critical infrastructure—if ISIS demolished it, coalition supply routes would be disrupted for weeks.
The mission: secure the cache, prevent demolition.
Shira took position on a hillside 900 meters from the bridge, scanning the compound and surrounding area through her CheyTac’s scope. The Rangers moved in under cover of darkness.
“Overwatch, what do you see?” Garrett’s voice in her ear.
She counted: “Four sentries visible. Two on the bridge itself, two at the compound entrance. All armed, AK pattern rifles.”
“We need them quiet. Can you take all four before they alert anyone?”
Four targets, different positions, different ranges. She’d have maybe 45 seconds before someone realized what was happening.
“Affirm. On your mark.”
“Send it.”
She started with the farthest target—bridge sentry one, 920 meters. Breath, press, hit. He dropped silently.
Bridge sentry two turned, confused. She fired again. Down.
Compound sentry one raised his radio. She fired. The radio fell from dead hands.
Compound sentry two was running for the door—
Final shot. He collapsed three feet from the entrance.
Four targets, four shots, 38 seconds.
“Overwatch clear. Moving in.”
The Rangers secured the cache—RPGs, mortars, explosives rigged to destroy the bridge. They disabled everything, extracted without contact.
On the ride back, Collins keyed his radio: “Lilith, that was surgical.”
She didn’t respond. Just reloaded her magazines and watched the Iraqi landscape pass by.
CHARACTER MOMENT: THE PHOTO
Back at the FOB, Shira sat in her quarters cleaning the CheyTac. Rodriguez entered, dropping onto her bunk with a sigh.
“Another day in paradise,” Rodriguez muttered. She noticed Shira’s locker—slightly open, revealing a photo taped inside. “That your family?”
Shira glanced at it. The photo showed four people: Simon, Miriam, herself at maybe sixteen, and Ari at eight. Taken in the Golan Heights before everything fell apart.
“Yes.”
“Your brother?”
“He was.”
Rodriguez understood the past tense. “I’m sorry.”
“Suicide bomber. Jerusalem. 2009.”
“Jesus.” Rodriguez was quiet for a moment. “Is that why you do this?”
Shira thought about it. “Partly. But also because I’m good at it. And because Rangers like Collins and Garrett go home alive when I do my job.”
“You ever think about after? When you’re done with all this?”
“No,” Shira said honestly. “I don’t think past the next mission.”
Rodriguez nodded. “Yeah. Probably smart.”
But later that night, lying in her bunk, Shira found herself thinking about it anyway. What came after? She was 23 years old and she’d been at war for six years. What did life look like without a rifle and a target?
She didn’t have an answer.
MISSION VIGNETTE 2: THE FARM
MAY 3, 2015
An informant reported ISIS using a farmhouse 20 kilometers west of Mosul as a staging area for vehicle-borne IEDs. The Rangers were tasked with eliminating the bomb-makers and destroying the facility.
The problem: the farmhouse was surrounded by open fields. Approaching unseen would be nearly impossible.
Unless you had a sniper who could reach 1,400 meters.
Shira set up in an abandoned water tower before dawn. From her position, she could see the entire farm compound—buildings, vehicles, personnel moving between structures.
“Overwatch has six military-age males visible, all armed. Two vehicles that match VBIED profiles.”
“Can you interdict without the assault element?” Morrison asked. “If you can take out the bomb-makers, we can call in an airstrike on the vehicles.”
She studied the compound. The targets were moving between buildings, working on something she couldn’t quite see. One of them—older, clearly in charge—directed the others.
“Affirm. I can reach them.”
“You’re cleared hot. Take the shots.”
She started with the leader. 1,380 meters. He was standing still, supervising. The CheyTac’s reticle settled on his chest.
Press.
The round took nearly two seconds to arrive. The man dropped.
Chaos erupted—the others scattered, looking for cover. But they didn’t know where the shot came from. They couldn’t hear the supersonic crack from that distance.
Shira worked methodically. Second target, running toward a building—lead him, fire. Down.
Third target, diving behind a truck—waited for him to expose himself. Fired. Down.
The remaining three figured out the direction and returned fire—AK rounds that fell 800 meters short of her position. Pointless.
Fourth target. Fifth target. Sixth target.
Six shots, six kills, ranges from 1,320 to 1,420 meters.
“All hostiles down,” she reported calmly.
“Outstanding, Overwatch. Air strike inbound in five mikes. Get clear.”
She packed up and descended the tower. Two minutes later, an F-16 put a JDAM through the farmhouse, obliterating the VBIED facility in a fireball visible for miles.
When she returned to base, Master Sergeant Garrett pulled her aside.
“Abrams, you just single-handedly eliminated an entire bomb-making cell without putting a single Ranger in danger. That’s the kind of capability we’ve never had before.” He paused. “Keep it up.”
“Yes, Master Sergeant.”
But as she walked away, she realized: she’d just killed six people from nearly a mile away. They never saw her. Never had a chance. Tactically perfect. Morally ... complicated.
She pushed the thought away. They were bomb-makers. They’d killed dozens, maybe hundreds. This was the job.
But still.
MISSION VIGNETTE 3: THE SNIPER
MAY 21, 2015
ISIS had their own snipers—some trained, some just opportunists with scoped rifles. They’d killed three Iraqi Army soldiers in the past week, all from a specific sector of eastern Mosul.
The Rangers were tasked with finding and eliminating the threat.
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