The Reaper: Autobiography of One of the Deadliest Special Ops Snipers

by Nicholas Irving

Snipers and spotters don’t have to be best buds, but too much tension can make you a hell of a lot less effective. You develop a relationship where you’re like brothers, and you know how that can sometimes go. But in the end, you always have each other’s backs.

I’d been telling people for so long that I wanted to be a soldier, that I couldn’t imagine going back home and having to live down that failure to follow through. It also helped that my dad was firm but sympathetic. He told me he understood how I felt and that he’d support me a hundred percent, but he’d hate to see me make a bad decision that I’d have to live with for the rest of my life. He told me that quitting is addictive and that it got easier and easier to do each time you made that decision. That was advice I was glad I took to heart.

When we got to the one-minute mark, I leaned out against my straps and saw this lone building in the middle of all this flatness. Oh, crap, this is it. As soon as that thought was complete, the helicopter flared to scrub off all its speed. Like a horse being brought to a sudden halt, the helicopter rose nose first and its ass end settled, and we were in a near hover.

Finally after all the smoke cleared, everyone agreed that nothing was going to put a dent in that hole, let alone cover it up. Still, we were like guys everywhere. We couldn’t believe that something that simple could be defeating our best efforts and our equipment. A few more howitzer rounds got dropped, but the Pemberton hole would not be defeated.

All this time, I’d been counting and I came up with six shooters. I asked Brent what he had and he came with eight. We split the difference and reported in seven. I got on the comms and said that we had the seven enemy shooters and the rubble pile at that location. I wanted a 203 launched on them, but we were danger close and shrapnel could tear us up.

After the mission was over, we checked with the ISR guys, and they confirmed that what we’d seen was caught on a drone’s camera. Someone had come up and over that wall and then disappeared into the terrain. I kidded Brent. “It had to be your future ninja wife.” “Figures. She got one look at me and she ran off.”

We spent the rest of the night talking about a lot of the things you’ve just read. In some ways, I wish that new sniper had kept his damn mouth shut, but in other ways he gave me a reason to open mine up. For the first time, I made a real effort to explain to Jessica what it was like for me and how I felt I had to handle things. She asked the hard questions. How do you do it? Do you miss being over there? Do you miss killing people? She’s not a sniper, but she’s got good focus and aim.