Sniper Elite (14 page)

We had no form of mobile communications and luckily a civilian turned up who had a winch on his 4 x 4. We hooked up the winch cable to the Land Rover and turned it back on its wheels and then pushed it to the side of the road. The young lieutenant got a ride out with the civilian and told range control what had happened. I remained with Paul, who was in severe pain and four hours later a recovery team turned up to survey the damage and tow the Land Rover back to base. Monty got off this reckless accident scot-free; meanwhile Paul is still having trouble with his back.

One good thing about our return to Timor in 2002 was that I'd achieved my aim to be sniper team leader on operations, even though the operational environment was very quiet. I was among the advance party from 3RAR that flew to Dili on an RAAF C130 Hercules, and then was driven to Moleana. The humidity hit us as we walked off the back ramp of the aircraft and to a small fleet of trucks. We were to work from Moleana for the next six months. On arrival at our location we quickly orientated ourselves to the camp and received a good handover from the 2RAR guys. During the first couple of days we met up with the Blackhawk crew briefly before they rotated out. I was pretty sure Bingers was there again also.

As snipers we operated as two four-man teams with the ability to break down into pairs if needed. My team consisted of Paul, Chris and MP, who I worked with again when he joined me at SASR. We lived in porta-cabins that had been joined together and had the centre wall removed. Conditions weren't bad. We had hot and cold running water, good cooked meals every day we were on base, and real toilets! Most of our work involved observing border crossing points where the TNI were controlling movement back and forth. West Timorese locals would trade fuel and other items in the tactical coordination line (TCL), which was the designated border. The TNI would let the locals cross to the other side in the mornings to trade their goods, but when they returned in the afternoons they'd charge them a fee for the privilege.

The Indonesians swore this wasn't happening so we set out to gather the evidence. And on this particular job there were only three of us: MP, Paul and myself. We inserted at night by foot from one of the checkpoints that was manned by a section from Bravo Company. The locals don't particularly like the dark so we got into our final location undetected.

But as we pushed through to our OP location we got covered with this very fine hair from a bush which worked its way through our clothing and stuck into our bare flesh. This made us itch furiously for the next 24 hours and we all broke out in rashes. The observation post was too good to leave so we set up our optics and cameras with long-range lenses in among this extremely aggressive foliage. It wasn't long before we started to see some activity across the border.

We got perfect shots of the TNI taking their cut–often in American dollars–and hiding it in the roof of the shelter they'd made. On our return we sent our evidence up the chain of command and they produced this to the Indonesians. They did make an attempt to control the black market checkpoints after that but it was a hopeless task. There was virtually no fuel in East Timor for local use, but it was readily available over the border. So they did bring it across, and they charged a fortune for it.

We did do some good work throughout the trip but nothing that would place your life in any serious danger. Tensions between us, the militia and the Indonesians had virtually come to an end in 2000. There were a few minor bun fights between locals at a couple of checkpoints, but nothing too serious.

As a result of the lack of conflict, sniper section got on the wrong side of the company hierarchy, as we would always question the reasoning behind painfully pointless tasks. We all had high personal standards, and begrudged being sent out into the field because someone was too lazy to do their job properly. Soon we found ourselves constantly tasked and this kept us in the field and away from the command structure. In the end it suited us to be away from Moleana and all the bickering and ridiculous rules that were being thrown around by the bored battalion and company hierarchy.

The pattern that developed was a two to three day OP operation, back in camp for a few days and then out again. During our time back in base I used the Kiowa helicopters of 161 recce squadron to conduct a visual reconnaissance of the ground where we were to operate, which worked a treat. Because the foliage can be quite sparse throughout Timor we spotted the best possible locations to place OPs just about every time. The helicopter pilots were very good to us and always keen to help us out. I think they enjoyed doing something different from their normal TCL runs and joy rides for officers.

I also worked closely with the Blackhawk crews organising the insertion and extraction of our next task. They had started a database on all the LPs (landing points) and LZs (landing zones) within the Australian AO. And when I was given one of these ‘pointless' tasks I was talking about earlier, I just popped in to see these guys and they gave me all the information I needed with 15 minutes. When I produced this information to the company hierarchy it sent them into a rage. They thought I was going behind their backs and being obstinate. I thought I was being practical and showing some initiative.

The task was for my sniper team to walk a 26-kilometre circuit of several helicopter landing points and landing zones, to check on their condition and report back. The Blackhawk crews were even prepared to fly to each LP and LZ, which would have been completed in approximately one hour from start-up to shut-down. The result was that we were inserted by vehicle for a long and tedious walk. Both ‘superiors' very quickly lost what little respect I had for them.

On another occasion we were ordered to occupy an OP on a very large bare rock in the middle of a wide river on the border. It had no cover from view or fire, and no escape routes. If for some reason we had come under fire in that location we would have had to run straight into the open to a feature which faced the enemy. Paul even pointed out a track on the aerial photograph that ran right through the centre of it, but the officer in charge was hell-bent on putting my team on that rock. It was thoughtless planning like this that inspired me even more to move on to better pastures. We did the job, but didn't go anywhere near that suggested location.

This trip wasn't all bad news. It was frustrating, yes, but we did have a few laughs in between. At one OP location we killed a snake and decided to take it back to Moleana for the ‘prevent med' guys to identify for poison antidote, as they had limited information on the flora and fauna of East Timor. It turned out to be a python. I felt like a real mug and the boys didn't let me forget it.

On what little time we had off we managed to get into the township of Maleana to check out the markets, which were about a slow 15-minute drive away. Some of the blokes bought trinkets for family members, but more importantly we had sourced a little local bloke who would sell us beer for double what we pay in Australia. We tried to haggle but he knew he had the monopoly and wouldn't budge on the price. So we parted with the cash. This was one of our personal little wins over the army, and as soldiers do, we love to down a few amber nectars from time to time.

Towards the end of our tour I bumped into the RSM, Peter Tyrell–or ‘Squirrel' as he was known. He was a good bloke and we got chatting. He asked me what I wanted to do that next year so I said I wanted a posting to Perth, as near as possible to Campbell Barracks, the SASR headquarters. By now I had only one object in mind–to join the regiment. My plan was to get out of Sydney and position myself for the selection course. He supported me, and pulled all the right strings to help me secure a position as a lance corporal in 16RWAR, a reserve unit based about 6 kilometres from Campbell Barracks.

My team managed to produce some good results from our observations of Indonesian army activities over the six months and I was proud of them for that, even though the situation was benign. However, we did go on high alert just before the Bali bombings and for a short time afterwards. Elections had been held the previous year for a constituent assembly to draft a constitution. That was completed by February 2002 and East Timor became formally independent on 20 May, with Xanana Gusmão sworn in as the country's president.

I would get to know XG, as we called him, a few years later as a member of SASR. Dramas did arise in December 2002 when rioting students set fire to the house of Prime Minister Marí Alkatiri and advanced on the police station. The police opened fire and one student was killed. The students carried his body to the national parliament building where they fought the police, set a supermarket on fire and plundered shops. The police opened fire again and four more students were killed. But 3RAR had been home two months by that stage. Alkatiri called an inquiry and blamed foreign influence for the violence, a typical response from him.

As soon as I got the posting order I applied to do SAS selection. I had a friend in the regiment who was trying everything he could to give me a heads up on what I needed to concentrate on for the best chance of success. But in reality there wasn't a lot he could do. I began completing the paperwork, stringent medical examinations, written tests and psychological evaluations.

First came ‘barrier testing' back at Holsworthy, the physical endurance work that gives the training staff a good idea if you have the makings to attempt selection. What worried me was that I'd hurt my knee running around Moleana and it wouldn't heal. By now I was pretty sure I'd beaten the malaria off and I trained hard for the barrier testing with a mate–RS–who also wanted to join SASR. The barrier was a combined test with 4RAR and, as it turned out, RS did his barrier testing a couple of days before me and he passed with flying colours. In my group of six candidates for SASR only two of us got through. Step one down and dusted!

3RAR was winding down for Christmas leave, and I had my sights firmly set on Perth and selection. I continued a tough training regime I designed for myself interspersed with organising our relocation to Perth, although I did slip over to New Zealand with Lee for one week for a hunting trip.

With George and the girls, I arrived in Perth on a Saturday and our first impressions were good–it seemed clean and quiet. We stayed in a hotel until we could move into a defence house close to Campbell Barracks. Early the next day we went for a walk around the CBD until lunch time then caught a train to Swanbourne and walked to the married patch to check it out. It was very hot and the girls–by now three and four–were getting tired and grumpy, but we gained a good idea of the area, which was close to the beach. When our gear arrived we moved in.

I had a couple of friends from 3RAR who were also posted to 16RWAR including their training warrant officer. When I told them I was doing selection they let me do my own training, which I was very thankful for. In fact, I was only at 16RWAR for five weeks before I started selection.

Selection began on 18 February 2003. I met up with RS and a couple of others from the old battalion and we were transported to a hangar in the training area at Bindoon where we and our kit were thoroughly searched. We didn't get much sleep that night due to nerves and the bloody snorers, and were woken at 0400 hours to start the 15-kilometre timed pack march to another camp.

During this walk a huge blister developed on my right heel. I was surprised this happened as I had walked a lot of miles wearing the same boots and never had a problem. I wasn't happy about this, particularly at such an early stage. We were to stay at this camp for the next five days conducting several lessons and a three-day continuous navigation exercise. I was ever mindful that the malaria might resurface at any stage, and also did everything I could to make that blister as comfortable as possible. After this phase we spent a fair bit of time at Lancelin, a very scrubby area north of Perth, and although that phase was very hard I began to enjoy it. The tests were a series of solo pack marches from point to point over quite long distances carrying about 32 kilos in a pack plus webbing. It was quite tough because it was midsummer and temperatures were mainly in the high 30s; we even had days at 41 degrees.

During this phase I tackled it more systematically than most other candidates as I knew I wasn't a bad walker with a pack on my back, and my nav was pretty good. So just before dark I'd find a spot and settle down for the night. I'd get my wet sweaty gear off and get inside my sleeping bag, as the nights were quite cold. I would cook up a feed and knock up a brew from the ration pack while it was still light, then get a good night's sleep to start fresh and early in the morning. There were times when I was woken up by blokes stomping past me in the dead of night, tripping over and cursing because they were walking into things or falling flat on their faces–an easy way to acquire an injury and be withdrawn from selection.

Endurance is all in the mind. If your mind becomes corrupt when you're on selection you're finished. For example, when I started to think, ‘I'm starving right now and I could really tuck into a pizza,' I had to blanket it with other thoughts and press on. You can be big, strong and extremely physically fit but if you're not mentally tough enough you won't pass. As long as your mind keeps telling your body to keep on going and to put one foot in front of the other you'll be there at the end.

Of course, sometimes the body will just simply give up. One of the lads in my syndicate passed out with exhaustion but then got back on his feet and finished selection.

By the end of the ordeal in early March I was absolutely exhausted and very happy to finish. We had to wait until the following day before they told us who had passed and who hadn't. Then suddenly I was in. Strangely, it felt like a bit of an anticlimax, probably because I was so knackered. I'd expected to feel much more excited about passing. George was really happy for me. In fact she was more excited than me. She did know of the potential dangers of the job as I didn't keep any secrets from her about what would–or could–happen if I got selected. I wanted her to know exactly what we were getting into and she supported me. Being in the regiment probably gave her a sense of security as well, because this would mean we could live in Perth for as long as I stayed in the army.

George brought some beers, pizza and chocolate biscuits to the main gate of Campbell Barracks and I shared this with RS. I put the biscuits in the fridge for the next day but RS decided to have a midnight snack and ate the whole packet. I was annoyed; he is a bloody eating machine.

Selection just gets you through the door. Waiting on the other side was the ‘reinforcement cycle' where the real training occurs. Some blokes from the previous selection, which ran in September 2002, had joined us for the start of the ‘reo cycle'. We started by learning to operate the majority of the weapons the unit owned, from the 5.56 mm M4 to the Javelin rocket launcher. Directly after that we went on to the patrol course to learn special reconnaissance and close country warfare. Other specialist courses followed and the entire reinforcement cycle was to take us 14 months to complete, but that time flew by as we were always busy.

My knee was giving more trouble and I had to have an operation on it three months into the cycle. This meant I had to miss roping course, which I had to pick up later on. There were complications with the operation that gave me no end of trouble during the most feared course on the reo cycle, close quarter battle (CQB). The standards were exceptionally high and extremely hard work, the instructors took no prisoners. I'd be driving home at the end of the day mentally and physically exhausted. Christmas leave was rapidly approaching and I was looking forward to the break. A few didn't make it to the end of the cycle, and one was sent on his way shortly after it completed.

When you join the regiment you lose whatever rank you previously held from your parent unit, and have to earn your stripes at a new level. But there's mutual respect between officers and operators and the organisational pyramid is quite flat, which means there are a lot of chiefs and not many Indians. If someone comes up with a job, everyone has an idea of how they want to conduct it. There might be a few arguments but inevitably the result will be a better plan. There are highly motivated soldiers at all levels and opinions are valued and listened to. Some of the lads have degrees behind them in a variety of subjects, and some more practical than others, but it's the way they apply themselves to soldiering that makes them better than everybody else.

A sense of humour is important. Sometimes it can be pretty black, but that's inevitable in the work we do. When you're out on a live job you concentrate on the task at hand. If you're not concentrating you won't last the distance and you might take some of your mates with you. If there's a sudden attack it's got to be dealt with there and then, but you have to have the ability to relax again afterward and have a laugh.

The other hallmark of the SAS is controlled aggression. You've got to develop the ability to remain calm and relaxed but to turn on the aggression in a flash, and then to turn it off just as quick. If you don't already possess this attribute it is built into you during the reinforcement cycle when live firing or conducting close quarter battle.

After the reo cycle I was posted to 3 Squadron and familiarised myself with the normal regiment routine. The squadron was running a mobility course and I was panelled on it as a student. This was to become my insertion skill. Generally you will only pick up one insertion skill; some may get lucky and become multi-skilled. There are three insertion skills in SASR: mobility, which deals with all types of motorised transport and special reconnaissance from all terrain vehicles (ATV); water ops, the divers with the ability to insert by boat or submarine and can provide coastal reconnaissance; and freefall, covering specialised parachutists who are inserted by aircraft at varying altitudes.

Every operator in the unit is basic parachute qualified, which means we have the ability to insert from an aircraft using the round static line parachutes only. These are deployed at an altitude of 800–1,000 feet. We generally parachute into the ocean as the unit cannot afford to lose blokes due to injuries sustained when landing on hard ground.

My first exercise with the regiment was a mobility exercise, part of a wider ADF exercise that ran during June and July 2004. At the start, we had a fair amount of planning and preparation time, which meant we could mix business with pleasure. As usual we started crawling before we could run and conducted a couple of overnight patrol-sized activities, and then built up to squadron size. The primary objective was to square away our mobility and special reconnaissance capability, but we also managed to conduct several live fire exercises.

I hadn't seen so much ordnance in my life. But we needed this to be able to train to the high calibre of the regiment, and also to remain very proficient in our vast array of weapon systems. We conducted plenty of live fire vehicle-mounted and foot patrol break contacts withdrawing from an enemy engagement under fire and then culminated in a live fire deliberate attack (DA) combining the two. Because I was the driver of our long-range patrol vehicle (LRPV) one of my weapon systems was the Carl Gustaf, an 84 mm Swedish recoilless anti-tank weapon. I placed this on the outside of the vehicle just by the steering wheel for easy access, so if need be I could rapidly remove the 84, grab two high explosive (HE) rockets and move off to a flank, then in quick succession send each rocket into the target.

In between activities we were stood down for the weekends and were able to catch a taxi into the centre of Darwin for a few well-earned beers.

The main exercise was starting and it was time for us to insert into the field. Nev, my patrol commander, had decided we should use the 6 x 6 Polaris ATV instead of our traditional LRPVs to keep a low signature and to increase our mobility. There was a downside to this: we were up against an armoured unit with Leopard tanks. We packed the ATVs to carry six days rations, water, fuel, spare parts, field kit and an assortment of weaponry and ammunition. This wasn't enough to keep us going for the whole 10-day exercise, so we had to organise a resupply for the night of day five.

It was late in the afternoon as the patrol loaded the four ATVs onto the waiting C130 Hercules at RAAF Base Darwin, and would be dark before we inserted onto a private airfield in the Katherine region. We prepared our night vision kit for the drop-off before departure, making sure it was focused and had fresh batteries. Once in the air, the pilots turned off the white light and started tactical flying–keeping the aircraft low, almost contouring the ground. It's not a smooth way to fly and it wasn't long before I started to feel a little nauseous and wishing it would come to an end.

Soon the back ramp of the aircraft was cracked, letting a rush of warm air into the fuselage and we got the two-minute signal from the aircrew. We started the vehicles to ensure a smooth and rapid deployment and I sucked in as much fresh air as possible to try to stop myself from being sick. The engine revs dropped right off and suddenly we felt the thud of the C130 touching down on the dirt airstrip. As it braked hard the back ramp fully opened, filling the back end with dust and we came to a brief stop. On the load master's signal we drove the vehicles down the ramp and entered the orange dust. Initially it was very difficult to see into the night through our night vision goggles (NVGs) as our eyes weren't adjusted to the dark and the aircraft had disturbed a lot of dust from the airstrip. The air temperature was about 26 degrees and relatively humid as we watched the C130 turn around then take off in the direction that we had arrived. We had found some dead ground just off the runway that was big enough to conceal the ATVs until we felt secured enough to start patrolling.

The hum of the aircraft engines was fading away under the sound of frogs and crickets when Nev put up one hand splaying his fingers, indicating to each patrol member that we were moving in five minutes.

We travelled cross-country all night through the varying Northern Territory bush, tackling natural obstacles and dodging termite mounds to insert deep inside the exercise AO, and just before first light we found a suitable LUP where we could harbour up for most of the daylight hours. Once we deemed the LUP was secure, JB and I refuelled and checked the maintenance of the vehicles while the other patrol members were either on sentry duty (piquet), conducting communications checks or making a brew.

After a good rest we decided to make a move midafternoon to find another LUP that would be suitable for us to conduct a night foot patrol to seek enemy activity. Unfortunately, once in that LUP the enemy found us. The 2IC didn't do his job of covering our tracks properly where we crossed a small single-vehicle track that had looked like it was regularly used. An enemy Land Rover used as a light reconnaissance vehicle saw the tracks and decided to follow them up. We were compromised, but got over it by using some stealth and aggression and ambushed them as they headed on foot towards our LUP.