Chapter 3: Sniper School Saturday 01 September 2007

Khudabah, Pakistan — Night three

I never thought I would say that it feels good being tied up to the ceiling, but this beats the hell out of the shit the fucking camel jockeys did to me today. First, they tied me to a chair, brought in an interpreter, and started asking me questions. I wouldn't even talk to the fucker other than to say his mother was a whore and his father was a pig. They beat the shit out of me for saying that. After that, they would ask me a question, and when I wouldn't answer, they beat me. That went on all fucking day. I think they wore out three guys beating on me. I'm pretty bruised up, but I don't think they broke any of my bones; at least, not yet. The fuckers can beat me to death before I'll tell them anything.

They stopped about an hour ago, gave me some shitty tasting food and some water, and now I'm back, tied up to the ceiling. Once it gets dark, I'll immerse myself in memories until I manage to sleep. With luck, I'll dream of being home, and the rats won't interrupt the dreams...

Kaneohe Bay, Hawaii - Saturday Arrival

My life as a civi was over, and I was headed back into the loving arms of Uncle Sam. I said goodbye to my friends from Leadville, caught a puddle jumper to DIA (Denver International Airport), and was soon flying coach to MCBH (Marine Corps Base Hawaii) on the lovely island of Oahu. I know what you're thinking — it's nasty flying coach — but it's better than flying space available on a C130 Hercules.

Since winning the Leadville Trail run, I'd become some sort of celebrity in the Corps. Shit, not only in the Corps; I was amazed at the number of people who accosted me at DIA for an autograph. Not only that, a certain female flight attendant made it known that she would be willing to join the "mile high club" with me. I wasn't interested in that slut.

Women. They just can't keep their hands off a man in uniform, and in my opinion, there isn't a more beautiful one than the Blue Dress uniform. Normally, I would've traveled in something less formal, but because I was a celebrity, the brass wanted me looking my best.

A number of years back, the sniper school was moved to MCBH and they incorporated cross training with snipers in other branches of the service to "keep the Marines on their toes." The brass has always pushed me to come here and train the newer snipers, and I've always resisted, telling them that I have more important things to do than nursemaid a bunch of baby snipers. Well, that's not quite true. Actually, I'm a terrible teacher and I know it. I'm just too hard headed and impatient to put up with students.

I don't know what you know about sniper school, but it's only about twenty percent shooting. The rest is about tactics and concealment and how to endure all the incredible shit that occurs when you're waiting for the kill. There are some targets for which you end up waiting in your ghillie suit for a week to get a shot., It's hot and sweaty, and you can't move. If need be, you even shit and piss right in your suit.

People might wonder what sort of person in his right mind would ever take a job like this. Well, I'm not in my right mind. And all the crap that I have to go through for the kill is worth it for the couple of seconds it takes to make the shot. I'm one messed up mother fucker. Those people should just be thankful that I work for our side.

Interestingly, I couldn't get much information on Sergeant Donaldson, or DLP (Daddy's Little Princess), as I'd started calling her. I knew only that she graduated top of her class at the National Guard Sniper School at Camp Robinson in central Arizona. But after all, that was the fucking National Guard — not even the real military — so how hard could that school be. She'd had one deployment to Iraq and had a verified four kills. Shit, I think I had that many in the first week on my first deployment. Then she transferred to the Marines and recently was promoted to Sergeant from Corporal. I was sure that her daddy had something to do with that promotion.

It didn't matter. The MCBH School was between classes so we had it all to ourselves, and I figured I would have DLP crawling back to daddy in about a week. Then, I could get back to finding a real spotter and then, of course, back to Iraq.

After an uneventful flight, we touched down at Oahu airport. A Lance Corporal was waiting for me as I exited the plane, and we boarded a waiting chopper to fly us to the base. It's sort of nice being a celebrity.

Having been at MCBH before, I went right to the office of the Base Commanding Officer (BCO) to check in. While the Lance Corporal dropped my gear in my barracks. After a short wait, I was called in. After the proper attention and salute, I was shaking hands with Brigadier General Thompson.

"Sir, it's good to see you again and to be back in the Corps" I said.

"Sergeant Major Blaine. We're so glad to have you back. I thought that we'd lost you when you resigned, and that would've been a great loss to the Corps. I also wanted to congratulate you on the outstanding win at the Leadville Trail 100. Enlistment in the Corps is up over fifty percent since that remarkable event."

"Thank you, sir, but I really couldn't have done it without the help from the other Marine, Jens. To be truthful, sir, I feel extremely bad about it because I didn't even get to know her full name or thank her."

"Yes, Ben. We know, and there's a reason for that." He pressed the intercom button on his desk, but didn't say anything. The door opened, and in walked Sergeant Jennifer Donaldson. She snapped a perfect salute to Brigadier General Thompson and then turned to me. Standing in front of me in her Dress Blues Marine uniform was not Sergeant Jennifer Donaldson or DLP, but Jens, who had run the Leadville race with me. My jaw must have hit the floor.

I couldn't think of anything to say. Brigadier General Thompson saved the situation when he said, "Come on, you two. Stop staring at each other and sit down. We need to talk."

We both sat, and Brigadier General Thompson looked at me. "Banzai, I've known you for a very long time; in fact, for the entirety of your ten years of service to the Corps. And I know that you resigned, rather than take Jens as your new spotter, and I also think I know you well enough to know that you came here planning on getting her to quit the sniper program. Let's see ... I bet you were thinking if you made it hard enough, or bad enough, or nasty enough on her, she would quit and run back to her daddy. Am I right?"

I nodded my head, and he continued. "And I bet that you're feeling double-crossed right now, and that you're starting to get pissed off. Am I right?"

Damn, he could read me; he knew it, and I knew it. I also knew that if I answered, I'd be in trouble. I clamped my mouth shut.

"Before you go opening your mouth and saying something that you'll regret or something that might get you court marshaled, you need to listen to me. This is an exceptional young lady and perhaps one of the best damned Marines I've ever met.

"She didn't get here riding the General's coat tails. Everything that she has done, she has done on her own, other than getting assigned as your spotter. She did that because she wanted to work with the best so that she and you could become even better. She came up with a tactical plan where she has followed you, stalked you, and if she so chose, could have killed you many times over, in the last month when you were in Leadville.

That's why it felt like someone was watching me!

"Between her being so good and you getting sloppy, you made it easy for her. I can tell you that there's only one sniper I know of that's a better shot than her, and it's you. She even came up with the tactical plan for both of you to win the Leadville race. She has spent years studying you, and — shit — she knows you better than you know yourself.

"She knew that with some egging on and competition added to a bunch of mystery, you couldn't help but compete at a level beyond your abilities. Come on, we both know that by yourself there was no way in hell that you could've won that race, and by herself she didn't stand a chance.

"But together, something synergistic happened, and you both performed at an athletic level beyond the level of Olympic athletes. Shit, I'll bet my star that your records will stand as long as I'm still living.

"So I want you to cut out any bullshit you had planned. You have two choices, Marine: you can work together with Jens as a team, or you can spend the next ten years that you re-upped for in the stockade."

Shit. It was no fun getting my ass chewed by the Brigadier General, but he wasn't done yet.

Now he turned and looked at Jens. "Jens, I've known you even longer than I've known Banzai because the General and I go back a lot of years. I know that you've always been a different young lady. While the other girls were playing with their Barbies, you were playing with GI-Joes or Cowboys and Indians. I know the deepest desire in your heart has always been to be a sniper, and not just a sniper, but the best sniper.

"The General and I have gone crazy for years trying to keep you from it, but after you ran off and joined the National Guard and then set new records in their sniper school, we knew we couldn't. So we decided if this was your wish you would get one chance at it, and this is your only chance.

"You've been headstrong in the past and it has always helped you, but I'm going to warn you, that shit won't work with Banzai. He's the most bullheaded son of a bitch I've ever met, and if he wasn't so damn good at what he does, he would've been in the stockade years ago.

"So, Marine, he outranks you, and you will obey him without any questions or bullshit. If he says, 'jump, ' you had better say, 'how high, '; if he says, 'duck, ' you had better say, 'how low, ' and if he even says to suck his dick you had better say, 'how long.'"

Well, at least this was an equal opportunity ass chewing. Man, the old man was on a roll.

He continued. "I have one more surprise for both of you." He pressed the intercom button on his desk. "Bring in the surprise."

The Lance Corporal walked in holding a trophy that was about three feet tall.

The Brigadier General looked at Jens and me. "I know you were told you would have the sniper training area all to yourself, but we have a surprise for both of you. Two weeks from today, we are hosting the first international sniper competition. We have the best of the best coming from all the free world. Of course we have the Army and the Navy Seals, but we also have the Mossad from Israel, the Spetnaz from Russia, and Germany, France, Great Britain, all the Scandinavian countries ... shit, even Switzerland is sending their best.

"It's a week-long competition that focuses on every area of being a sniper. I expect you two to win this trophy for the Corps. Failure is not an option. If you fail ... Ben, you will be assigned here as a trainer, and Jens, you will become an administrative assistant.

"Now. Here are the keys to my car. Get the hell out of here. Get to know each other, and come back tomorrow ready for your indoctrination."

"Yes, sir," we both replied.

Then I added, "Sir, might I ask one more thing? I haven't had a chance to see Sergeant Donaldson's full service record. I'm asking for complete access to it."

He smiled, picked up a large folder on his desk and handed it to me. "I know you'll be surprised. I was."

"One more thing, sir. Thank you for the offer of your car keys, but we don't need it because training is starting for us now." I turned to Jens. "Sergeant Donaldson, you have twenty minutes to meet me at the NCO club for dinner."

Knowing that the meeting was over, we stood, snapped to attention, and saluted. Brigadier General Thompson returned our salute, and we turned and left. I let the sergeant open the door for me; after all, rank does have its privileges.

I was thinking to myself, "payback is a bitch. Let's see how Jens runs in those flats she's wearing." I figured that I could just make the NCO club in time without breaking a sweat, so when I hit the street, I took off running, with Jens trying to keep up. It must've been quite a sight to see two Marines running in full dress uniform, because everyone who saw us stopped and watched.

Finally I heard Jens say, "Fuck this shit." She stopped and took off her shoes and started running barefoot, and it didn't take long for her to catch up with me.

We passed a platoon of new recruits. As luck would have it, my old Drill Instructor (DI) was leading it. He recognized me and yelled, "Hey Banzai, are you molesting that poor woman?"

"Hey, yourself, DI Anderson," I shouted over my shoulder. "I heard that you were so old and ugly they sent you to the Navy to swab the decks!"

"I'll show you old an ugly. PLATOON! 'BOUT FACE! DOUBLE TIME!"

Jens and I, DI Anderson, and the platoon all got to the NCO club at the same time. DI Anderson stalked over and ordered, "Drop and give me a hundred, Banzai."

I took one look at him, flashed my sleeve with the new Sergeant Major rank, and replied, "DI Anderson, I now outrank you. You and your platoon drop and give ME a hundred! You, too, Sergeant Donaldson!"

I was gloating in my newfound power when — of course — Brigadier General Thompson drove up in his Cadillac STS, he rolled down the window, and yelled, "Sergeant Major Blaine, I see that you're abusing my troops. Drop now, and give me two hundred."