Free Hunters: U.S. Snipers in the War on Terror by Milo S. Afong Page B

rushed to the entrance and cleared the building. Inside, jugs of water and wooden trunks loaded with passports, money, and freshly pressed clothes lay about. Since everyone had prepared for a twelve-hour mission, Chris’s team had drunk most of their water. The jugs in the room were heaven-sent, allowing everyone to top off his canteen. As they left, they marked the house with a GPS and headed for the mountainside.
    When they reached the craters, smoldering rubble was all that was left.
    “Did we even hit these guys?” questioned Chris. There were no bodies anywhere.
    As they walked up the hill, a small cutout room was left. Stacks of blankets, cooking wear, and rifles were inside. The SEALs broke the cooking wear, took the rifles, and moved on. A mound of rubble was all that remained of the main entrance to the cave where the men had been spotted. Black, smoldering trees around the area held shards of burned clothing. Unknown to the SEALs, a P-3 Orion had recorded the bombing and revealed twelve to fifteen men completely obliterated. After a quick search, the team patrolled back and rejoined the other group. As they left the area, they called in an air strike on the small house they had searched.
    Their time in the area lasted a total of nine days. The SEALs took follow-on missions to search the surrounding area and nearby towns as well. On day three, they were resupplied, and Chris’s sniper rifle was flown in. A few days later, the men moved to clear a village close by, and there Chris and another SEAL provided sniper over-watch.
    On the morning of the mission, while it was still dark, Chris and the other sniper set out for the village. They planned to watch the area in advance of the main effort. It was eerie patrolling in the hills, just the two of them. By daybreak, they were above the village, hidden among rocks. Their old maps did not give them an accurate picture of their initial position. It was a cliff face, and they moved to their secondary position.
    Hours later, Chris watched the group search the village. He and his partner calculated several different ranges in case they had to engage, but there wasn’t much action. The village was empty, and the main effort filed out of the area. Chris and his partner covered their movement and prepared to meet them, but before they left, Chris’s man-tracking skills came into play. He noticed fresh footprints on a goat trail leading in the opposite direction. The two of them wanted to see where the tracks led and radioed their commander.
    “We’ve got fresh tracks here,” Chris said. “We’re gonna follow them.”
    They received the OK and moved out. On the trail, Chris was worried. He carried only a bolt-action sniper rifle, and if they made contact, he’d be stuck with a single-shot weapon. The trail led them down a hill and directly into a cache of clothing and three sleeping bags. Clearly the owners of the materials had tried hiding them. Chris marked the position with his GPS and kept walking. Soon, the trail split into two, one aimed toward Pakistan, while the other led to another nearby village. The SEALs took the trail toward the village. As they patrolled, Chris’s partner suddenly stopped him.
    “Look,” he said, pointing at a bunker.
    Thankfully, nobody was manning it, or Chris would have been dead. The hidden bunker was big enough for five guys. Inside were a fire pit, logs, and cooking materials. Chris also marked the bunker with his GPS and recorded the coordinates to the village. When they were finished, the two snipers patrolled back and met up with the rest of their unit. That night, a surveillance plane monitored the village that Chris and his partner had stumbled upon. Radio traffic indicated that Taliban militants held meetings there. They arrived that evening in two trucks. The surveillance plane recorded as bombs hit the vehicles, chalking up more kills for the SEALs.
    By the ninth day, the SEALs had achieved the remarkable. They had