missed its mark and sailed high over the building, trailing across the
hazy, cloudless Iraqi summer sky like a bottle rocket on an American
Fourth of July. But if just one of those rockets impacted a window, it
meant red-hot fragments of jagged metal ripping through just about
every man in the room.
Despite the onslaught, we held our position in the large four-story
apartment building. When the fury of the attack subsided, our SEAL
snipers returned fire with devastating effect. As armed enemy fighters
maneuvered through the streets to attack, SEAL snipers squeezed off
round after round with deadly accuracy, confirming ten enemy fighters
killed and a handful more probable kills.
As the platoon commander, in charge of the entire element, I made
my way from room to room on each floor to get a status check and make
sure none of our guys were hit. Gathering information on our snipers’
engagements, I passed situational reports over the radio to the U.S.
Army’s TOC in the distant friendly combat outpost.
“You guys good?” I asked, ducking into a room with SEAL snipers
and machine gunners manning positions, while others took a break.
“Good to go,” came the response.
In another room, I checked in with our SEAL platoon chief. Just then,
enemy fire poured through the windows bracketing his position as he
pressed against the corner wall. He laughed and gave me a thumbs-up.
Chief was a badass. SEAL machine gunners came looking for work, and
we directed their fire at the enemy’s location; the gunners quickly
hammered the enemy position with an accurate barrage of 7.62mm link.
One SEAL gunner, Ryan Job, eagerly employed his big machine gun
with deadly accuracy. He fearlessly stood in the window braving
incoming enemy rounds as he unleashed three to five round bursts of his
jeff_l
(Jeff_L)
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