Free The Last Punisher: A SEAL Team THREE Sniper's True Account of the Battle of Ramadi by Kevin Lacz, Ethan E. Rocke, Lindsey Lacz

never too sharp, the gear never quite perfect. The cyclic and repetitive nature of fixing, tweaking, and readjusting gear enhances the effectiveness of the operator. I was no different. Previous proper planning prevents a piss-poor performance.
    In addition to running the medical department, I was an ordnance rep, which meant I was responsible for making sure my platoon’s vehicles were outfitted with heavy weapons and lasers. I changed into cammies and boots before heading over to where our vehicles were parked. The chariots we rode into battle were the 1152B HMMWVs, armed to the teeth. We named all of them for GI Joe characters and spray-painted their names on the driver-side doors: Snake Eyes, Cobra Commander, Shipwreck, etc. The heavy guns we rolled with were .50-caliber machine guns and the smaller M240B machine gun, which fires 7.62 mm rounds. The big guns laid waste on the battlefield and were always welcomed in a firefight. But in case they weren’t enough, we stockpiled LAW (light antitank weapon) rockets and the 84 mm Carl Gustav recoilless rifle as backups in the trucks.
    All our weaponry was impressive and deadly, but I was particularly fond of the .50. It is a classic champion of the American combat arsenal and predates World War II. The .50 can easily punch through brick and metal of all kinds. It can tear a small vehicle to shreds within a matter of seconds. Hitting another human being with a burst of .50-cal will turn said human being into a mangled mass of hamburger. There is a vicious rumor in the military that the Geneva Conventions prohibit the use of the .50 on human targets, but that’s all it is—a rumor. I read a February 2011 blog entry in Rumor Doctor for Stars and Stripes that carefully explained how the .50, though capable of causing horrific wounds, has a military advantage that outweighs the suffering it causes. Therefore, it is not considered an illegal weapon for use against human targets under the Law of Armed Conflict.
    I checked the headspace and timing of the .50s, and then conducted function tests on all the guns. I replaced the batteries on the lasers and made sure the hand-grip pressure pads were functioning properly. Later on, before departing, each turret gunner would check all of these again. When I finished, I relayed to Bob, the primary ordnance rep, that I had completed the checks.
    Bob was on his third deployment with Charlie. He grew up in California’s Central Valley. Fortunately, Bob was spared Valley Fever when he joined the Navy. Bob was a solid 210 pounds on a six-one frame and did the heavy lifting. He was often aloof with the newguys, praised very little, but demanded the highest degree of performance on the job. Uncle Bob made newguys better Frogmen. It’s kind of an unspoken rule in a SEAL platoon that after your first platoon you’re relieved of the burden of carrying the machine gun (otherwise affectionately known as the “Pig”). On this deployment, Bob still carried the bacon. He led by example and was a core member of our platoon.
    I split responsibility for the medical department with Jonny, so I checked the medical equipment in Snake Eyes. The spine board, platoon med bag, and body bags were there, so I went back to my tent to check my personal gear. I had my med bag, plus the same gear everybody else carried. My gear was always ready to go. I’ve been meticulous since I was a kid. While my brothers used to play with their Matchbox cars and Tonka trucks, I would spend hours organizing and arranging mine into neat rows. I like things orderly. I already had my grenades all taped down and a full set of magazines loaded and ready to go. I made a habit of rotating my mags every few days to make sure I wasn’t stressing the springs too much. If you take care of your mags, you get fewer jams.
    After prepping the gear, I took some time to write an email home to my parents. I was careful to be vague and ambiguous about where I was and what I was doing. I told