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A US Marine sniper keeps a vigil in Kandahar
Marine Sgt. Christopher G. Jacox brought a Wisconsin hunting license with him to Afghanistan. And he intends to use it.
Marine Sgt. Christopher G. Jacox brought a Wisconsin hunting license with him to Afghanistan. And he intends to use it.
Each night, ready for the kind of hunting the Marines trained him to do, he
perches atop the remains of the control tower of Kandahar International Airport
with a 7.62 mm sniper rifle capable of hitting a man a thousand yards away.
The snipers have one of the most coldblooded jobs in the military. Pilots bomb without seeing the bombed. Navy crews launch cruise missiles from the far side of the horizon. Combat troops get into firefights where anybody could get hit. But snipers coolly pick out their targets, shoot them from a distance, and, through powerful scopes, see them fall. "I can actually watch the bullet travel through the air and hit a person," says Sgt. Jacox. Catching himself, he adds, "Or, I should say, target." This is, in the sergeant's words, an "up-close-and-personal" way to kill someone.
Sgt. Jacox, a slender 29-year-old from Racine, Wis., with a close-shaved head and thin mustache, has been a sniper for a year and has yet to take his first real-life shot. But he has it all planned out. Instead of concentrating on the man he is about to kill, he'll focus more on the cross hairs themselves. And he doesn't expect to spend those critical moments contemplating the rights and wrongs of taking a life.
"If you stop to think about it, that's when the human factor kicks in," he says. "I try to think about it like deer hunting." Formally known as scout snipers, Marines in Sgt. Jacox's business are trained to roam deep behind the lines, provide detailed intelligence on enemy strength and plans, and shoot generals or other prominent figures in the hopes of confusing and demoralizing the troops. The idea is that a single shot, now, can save thousands of lives later.
The snipers have one of the most coldblooded jobs in the military. Pilots bomb without seeing the bombed. Navy crews launch cruise missiles from the far side of the horizon. Combat troops get into firefights where anybody could get hit. But snipers coolly pick out their targets, shoot them from a distance, and, through powerful scopes, see them fall. "I can actually watch the bullet travel through the air and hit a person," says Sgt. Jacox. Catching himself, he adds, "Or, I should say, target." This is, in the sergeant's words, an "up-close-and-personal" way to kill someone.
Sgt. Jacox, a slender 29-year-old from Racine, Wis., with a close-shaved head and thin mustache, has been a sniper for a year and has yet to take his first real-life shot. But he has it all planned out. Instead of concentrating on the man he is about to kill, he'll focus more on the cross hairs themselves. And he doesn't expect to spend those critical moments contemplating the rights and wrongs of taking a life.
"If you stop to think about it, that's when the human factor kicks in," he says. "I try to think about it like deer hunting." Formally known as scout snipers, Marines in Sgt. Jacox's business are trained to roam deep behind the lines, provide detailed intelligence on enemy strength and plans, and shoot generals or other prominent figures in the hopes of confusing and demoralizing the troops. The idea is that a single shot, now, can save thousands of lives later.
But it takes a certain kind of man to be a sniper. Sgt. Jacox's girlfriend would like him to do something else instead -- anything else -- in the Marine Corps. His parents, even his father, a retired Marine, don't ask him much about what he does. But for the sergeant, it's perfect. He had a 7 1/2-year hitch in the Army, two of them as a Ranger, and when he left the service he found it hard to fit into the civilian world. Bureau Report