Lone Survivor_ The Eyewitness Account of Operation Redwing and the Lost Heroes of SEAL Team 10 ( PDFDrive )

Before they let us loose in this barren, dusty no-man’s-land, they subjected us to
long lectures stressing the importance of paying attention to every detail.
They retaught us the noble art of camouflage, the brown and green creams,
the way to arrange branches in your hat, the dangers of a gust of wind, which
might ruffle your branches alone if they weren’t set tight, betraying your
position. We practiced all the hours God made, and then they sent us out onto the
range.
It’s a vast sweep of ground, and the instructors survey it from a high
platform. Our stalk began a thousand yards from that platform, upon which the
gimlet-eyed Webb and Davis stood, scanning the acres like a pair of revolving
radars.
The idea was to get within two hundred yards of them and then fire through
the crosshairs at the target. We had practiced doing this alone and with a partner,
and boy, does this ever teach you patience. It can take hours just to move a few
yards, but if the instructors catch you as they sweep the area with high-powered
binoculars, you fail the course.
For the final test I was working with a partner, and this meant we both had to
stay well concealed. In the end, he finds the range and calls the shot, and I
adhere to his command. At this stage the instructors have installed walkers all
over the place, and they’re communicating by radios with the platform. If the
walker gets within two steps of you, you’ve failed.
Even if you get your shot off unseen and hit the target, if they find you
afterward, you still fail. It’s a hard, tough, thinking man’s game, and the test is
exhaustive. In training, an instructor stands behind both of you while you’re
crossing the forbidden ground. They’re writing a constant critique, observing,
for example, that my spotter has made a wrong call, either incorrect distance or
direction. If I then miss with the shot, they know the mistake was not mine. As
ever, you must operate as a team. The instructor knows full well you cannot
position, aim, and fire the rifle without a spotter calling down the range, and
Jesus, he better be right.
There was just one day during training where they walked on me, which I
thought was pretty damned nervy. But it taught me something. Our enemy had a
damn good idea where we might head before we even started, a kind of instinct
based on long experience of rookie snipers looking for cover. They had me in
their sights before I even got moving, because they knew where to look, the
highest probability area.
That’s a lifetime lesson for the sniper: never, ever go where your enemy