Shock Factor (42 page)

Nate Gushwa was medically retired from the Guard as a result of his wounds. He settled back in his hometown on the coast and rejoined the construction company he'd worked for prior to 9/11. He went to school and is a draftsman today.

He lives with the lingering effects of his wounds every day. The wire that clotheslined him on Route Hamms did permanent nerve damage to his neck. Sneezing for him is an agony. The sudden spasms it causes sends shock waves of nerve pain through his neck, arms, and hands. At times, his fingers tremble uncontrollably.

His refusal to leave the sniper section after he was wounded made things worse for him. Wearing his Kevlar helmet and body armor ensured that his tendons never healed properly. Scar tissue built up over the nerve bundles in the back of his neck. Over the years, the scar tissue has continued to build up and can be seen on X-rays. There's no surgical option for Nate, so he lives with these constant reminders of his time in Baghdad.

Keith Engle returned home and went to sniper school. He took the section back to Iraq when 2–162 deployed for a second time in 2009. It was a very different place by then. The streets weren't filled with Mahdi Militia, the civil war between the Sunni and Shia that had begun at the end of their 2004–2005 deployment had mostly subsided. The battalion ran convoy operations, guarded bases, and chafed at the inactivity, boredom, and separation from their families. Engle lives with his family on the southern Oregon coast and remains in the National Guard today.

The 2–162 snipers still get together whenever they can. They hunt with their sons. On those trips, Nate and Darren use customized Remington 700 rifles built by Daryl Holland specially for them. At night, over drinks, they'll sometimes speak of their firefights and gut-check moments in Baghdad. In their most serious moments, they grow bitter and angry over what happened at the MOI. For all they accomplished that year in Iraq, the pall cast by June 29, 2004, and the discovery of the torture compound has left them with unanswered questions. Who gave the order for the scouts to withdraw? Who was responsible for the unit inflicting the torture?

But most of all: what happened to the men who were not released? Those thirty-three men the scouts could not save. No matter where the snipers will go in their lives, those tortured, battered men are never far from their thoughts.

If only they could have done more.

It is the lament of soldiers and snipers whose sense of duty, honor, and service are embedded in their DNA.

 

EPILOGUE

America has always had a schizophrenic relationship with her snipers. On one hand, precision shooting is coded into our national DNA. To survive in the New World once required a combination of rugged individuality and the ability to use a rifle effectively. Shooting was not a recreational activity, it was a matter of life and death. It was a crucial life skill men took pride in and shared with their sons. Rifles became precious heirlooms, passed down from one generation to the next as a sacred American rite of passage. In battle, our sharpshooters played a key role in securing our nation's independence at such places as Saratoga and Cowpens. They also saved the young republic more than once, most notably at New Orleans in 1815.

As warfare evolved through the nineteenth century, sharpshooters remained an important component of the American experience in the Civil War and the Indian Wars, but there developed a sense that there was something odious about such tactics. Sniping violated another deep-seated American value, one of sportsmanship and fair play. That revulsion contributed to the Army's refusal to establish a permanent sniper corps in peacetime. That lead to a lot of hard lessons in World War I and II, when poorly trained American snipers went up against crack German and Japanese shooters who were better equipped.

The Army's riflemen came to consider snipers a necessary evil. When pinned down by enemy shooters, they called for our own snipers to help clear the way. At the same time, they looked with disdain upon those who carried scopes atop their M1903s, considering them little more than killers.

Legendary war correspondent Ernie Pyle perhaps summed it up best in
Brave Men:
“Sniping, as far as I know, is recognized as a legitimate means of warfare. And yet there is something sneaking about it that outrages American sense of fairness.”

The importance of sniping was recognized most clearly in the Marine Corps, which established three stateside schools dedicated to the craft. Yet even within the Corps, it was a necessary wartime evil. Soon after VJ day, the schools were closed down and the minting of new shooters came to an end.

The same thing happened after every war. In the heat of battle, the call for snipers was heard from every fighting front. In peacetime, their bastard stepchildren status ensured they were the first element of the military cut as budgets withered.

That prejudice against snipers cost a lot of American lives in the twentieth century as our enemies remained far more advanced in this realm than we were. Only after Vietnam did we finally learn the lesson. Both the Corps and the Army established dedicated, and permanent, sniper schools. The craft was taught, but often money for our specialized equipment languished. American snipers often bought their own gear and ammunition to compensate for their government's penny-pinching.

The War on Terror changed the American sniper's status within the military, and our society. Time after time on these new battlefields, shooters proved their worth as agents of death and protectors of life. Countless American soldiers and Marines returned home to their loved ones because of the expert work of America's snipers. As combat shaped and revised our tactics, our shooters grew to be the most skilled and experienced on the planet. Not since the earliest days of our nation have our snipers played such a transformational role on our battlefields. Their prowess and achievements have led to a renewed golden age for our small, elite corps of warriors, unseen since the days of the Messenger of Death standing high atop the ramparts defending the Big Easy.

And yet, with peace almost upon us as our forces draw down in Afghanistan, America's snipers fear for the future. While new weapons and technologies that will make them even more effective on the battlefield are just now coming into service, the Army and Marine Corps face massive budget cuts in the years to come. If history is any guide, that does not bode well for our battlefield sentinels. The short-sided mistakes that followed World War I and World War II are being repeated, and unless Marine and Army snipers gain powerful advocates in Washington, their specialty may again disappear, or at least be imperiled. Should that happen, the next time America's warriors are called to battle, they will be thrown into the fray without these angels on their shoulders.

Every shooter who has ever looked through a scope at America's enemies knows the tragedies that will follow should we fall into the trap of our historical mistakes. The Shock Factor isn't just about dominating a battlefield, killing the enemy or destroying him psychologically. It is about protecting our own. Without the men behind the scopes, the soldiers in the street will be forever vulnerable. That is the great lesson of the War on Terror, and every sniper prays our nation takes that lesson to heart.

 

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

JACK COUGHLIN:

This book was written as a testament for all snipers who have served our nation. John and I are grateful to every shooter interviewed for this book. Your time, energy, and memories made this book possible, and we hope as you read our words you feel like we've done justice to your achievements on the battlefield.

JOHN BRUNING:

In May 2008, I was fortunate to function as an OPFOR “sniper” for Alpha Company, 2–162 Infantry during a National Guard field exercise at Goshen, Oregon. I remember very clearly being hunkered down under a pine tree on a slope overlooking a makeshift village by the Lane County dump, observing 2nd Platoon as they worked. Trying to simulate a react-to-sniper drill was tricky at best, and there was clearly no way to create the Shock Factor that makes snipers so valuable in battle. Yet the drill left a deep impression on me. I looked through the scope at men I knew well, most were good friends, and one by one, I pulled the trigger and called their names to the Observer Controller functioning as the referee for the exercise. As each man went down, and the platoon took cover and countered my presence, I gained a glimpse of how vulnerable our warriors are to a concealed, trained shooter. The importance of having such men protecting my friends as they went about their missions was driven home to me, and I left with a great appreciation for those who carry scopes into combat.

So when I had the chance to work with Jack Coughlin on a book about such men, I jumped at the chance. I had just come home from Afghanistan, where I'd been an embedded writer with elements of the Oregon National Guard and the 3rd Combat Aviation Brigate, 3rd ID, and wanted a new project that had value and meaning to me. When our agent, Jim Hornfischer, suggested we team up on
Shock Factor
, I was all in.

Working with Jack was a tremendous professional experience, and he has become a valued friend. Thank you, Jack, for everything.

To Charlie Spicer—it has been a great pleasure to work with you and the team at St. Martin's. Your patience as our snipers came and went on overseas deployments was much appreciated, and the final result is very much a product of the great team we all became. Thank you for taking a chance on me, I am grateful for the opportunity. April, your tireless work and patience have been much appreciated. The book is much better for your efforts on our behalf. Thank you, and thanks to the rest of the team at St. Martin's who made
Shock Factor
a labor of love.

Much of
Shock Factor
was written in my library in Independence. My daughter, Renee, made sure I was taken care of through many long nights. I would find notes on my laptop, treats on my desk. At odd hours of the night, she would get up and check on me to see how I was doing. Later, after Renee went through brain surgery, she spent six weeks with me day and night as she recovered from her operation. I've never had so much fun working, Cricket, than when you were hanging out with me. Thank you for all the motivation and the care. You're an amazing young woman.

Both Renee and Ed joined a rifle team soon after I started writing
Shock Factor
with Jack. As a result, Ed was fascinated with the stories we were developing, and sharing chapters with him became one of the rituals that defined much of the book's progress. Thank you, Ed; your love and support have been pivotal.

To Jenn, it didn't turn out the way we thought it would, but your friendship and love have always been a vital part of my life. Thank you for all the countless things you've done for me as I've worked to develop this crazy career of mine. Our children will go far in life, no doubt because of the passion, care, and devotion you've given to them. Just know, I will always appreciate all that you have given me.

Kevin Maries was the first military sniper I ever met. Kevin, you are a marvel, and your friendship means more to me than I can ever express. We may go months or even years without seeing each other, but I always know you're there. Thank you for everything you've done for me.

Dan, Tyson, Randy, Darren, and Nate—you guys are the best. Thanks for all your time and effort; I hope you feel like we've done the sniper section justice here. And guys, thank you for letting me be a small part of the battalion's training operations from 2007–2013. Those are weekends I'll never forget, and my appreciation for everything you all accomplished was reinforced by those experiences.

To Jason and Adam, new friends made through this book—thank you for everything. Adam, I'm still listening to that song you told me about! Jason, I hope we can link up in New York at your restaurant some day; I'm really looking forward to that.

Chris Kyle, though you'll never read these words, it was a great privilege to get to know you a little bit back in the fall of 2011. When we talked about your mission to kill or capture Thomas Tucker's abductors, this book became personal to me. Thomas was an Oregonian. I met one of his cousins in a restaurant in Independence a short time after he'd been killed. The pain of his loss was evident, so being able to write about the justice exacted on those responsible for that pain made
Shock Factor
more a crusade than just a book for me. Thank you for sharing those memories.

Jim Hornfischer—what can I say? You've been a friend, a rock, a man who transformed my life in 2006, then transformed it again after I came home from Afghanistan. Your efforts, your honesty, and your integrity in a business that Stephen King once called a “Tiger Pit” is utterly unique. Thank you for all that you have done for me and my family—and one of these days we really need to have a beer, damnit!

Allison—your support and faith in my writing has never wavered. Even after I returned home unsure of the way forward, feeling lost and questioning the course of my career, you've been there to remind me why I've been put here in the first place. It wasn't for fluffy kitten stories. Honoring those who served with the best words I can find is more than a profession, it is for me almost a monastic calling. You made sure I never lost sight of that again. Thank you for reminding me who I am and will always be. And when the sadness and pain of loss that surrounds what I do seems overwhelming, you are there with warmth and humor to lift me back up. Thank you for so many gifts so selflessly shared over these many years.

Lastly, Taylor Marks: I carry your spirit with me through every day, every decision. I've lived with your sense of adventure, your strength and courage as my guide every day since the war took you from us. My family will never forget.

 

INDEX

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