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My last blog, described the beginning of a running battle during Operation Iraqi Freedom. As we pick up the story, Starr's team is being pursued and they turn to fight...
"Driscoll had cycled the bolt of the Barrett and was looking for the next high-value target. The .338 Lapua magnum was zeroed in at 500 yards and he would not need a spotter. He had estimated his likely range should a battle develop with enemy on the highway at 500 yards in horizontal distance. Driscoll knew that contrary to those who believed that shots downhill required a hold under and steep shots made uphill required hold over, the only adjustment needed would be to compensate for the horizontal distance over which gravity had a chance to do its work. Therefore, his 500 yard zero would allow him to take direct aim to point of impact without a new firing solution.
For Driscoll, this was ideal. In a situation like this, with enemy scurrying in all directions, his fire would soon evolve into snap shooting. Not having to compensate or adjust for varying distances would make for more hits and faster fire.
“Another officer,” muttered Driscoll to himself. As the last man out of the APC bent to exit,
he put his shoulder boards and pips on good display. The Barrett fired of its
own volition and the frightened officer would never savor his first taste of
combat. The 250 grain round entered his crouching form on the right side of his
neck, coursed downward through his entire body and exited through his right
buttock. Several vital organs were totally destroyed in the process.
A granite boulder exploded in a shower of gritty powder
directly behind and above him.
“Where did that come from?” he wondered out loud. He
traversed to the left and washed his telescopic sights across the truck that
had been following the armored personal carrier (APC).
“Well, well, now this gets interesting,” he said to himself.
Starr faintly registered the booming rounds of Driscoll’s
magnum in the heat of battle and gave them little thought. He knew that for
every loud report an enemy would fall and he had other concerns.
With most of the troops who had spilled out of the APC, and
the truck gone to ground due to Singer’s sustained fire, Driscoll had a moment
to look closely at the shooter who nearly scored on him. He had moved to take
shelter behind the hood of the truck but
still held his rifle where it could be seen. Not for long, but long
enough for Driscoll to identify his weapon.
There was nothing else that looked quite like it and his heart rate went
up another notch, adrenaline coursing.
“A Dragunov!” he exclaimed, referring to the Soviet Block
sniper rifle made famous in many hot spots around the world since Viet Nam. Actually,
he was looking at an Iraqi version of the Dragunov called the Al-Qadissiya.
With a long and elegant barrel and laminated thumb hole skeleton stock, there
was nothing else that resembled it. Carrying it marked this man as an honored
individual.
The rifle fired the Moisin-Nagant 7.62x54R(rimmed) cartridge.
The muzzle velocity at 2,723 FPS was inferior to the Lapua. Effective range was
800 meters with maximum range of 1300
meters. So the team was within its range.
For optics, it carried a PSO-1 four-power electrically
illuminated scope with an odd-ranging setup providing chevrons for bullet drop
and stadia for windage.
But still, a Dragunov! He felt as if his vision sharpened and
his heart rate dropped to zero, as he welded into the stock and waited. The
sniper had disappeared behind the truck after his near miss and Driscoll could
feel him preparing to set up for another shot. He knew that with a man like
this, he would have time. The shooter would not rush this shot as he may have
done with the first. He was preparing once again to do battle, and Driscoll was
ready.
“Patience,” said Driscoll to himself.
He knew where the sniper was. He could see the barrel protruding vertically from
behind the hood of the truck. Driscoll would take advantage of that mistake. He
knew exactly where the sniper would appear. The man would have to rise up
slightly to shoot over the hood. The rifle, scope and his head would be visible
and that was all that Driscoll needed.
“They have us in a box. We need to move or we’ll eventually
be over-run.” Starr looked over at Driscoll and realized that he had not heard.
He was in his zone.
Driscoll waited for what seemed to be an eternity. Singer
continued to fire at targets of opportunity and a few sporadic poorly-aimed
rounds pinged off rocks nearby, but he remained still.
He saw the Iraqi sniper begin to rise slowly, with great
deliberation. He slid the Al-Qadissiya up onto the hood of the truck and
settled his face to the adjustable cheek pad.
Driscoll waited until he believed the sniper could see him through his
scope.They were rifle-to-rifle, scope-to-scope, eye-to-eye. Each man could
see the means of his demise as Driscoll fired. His cross-hairs had been
centered on the sniper’s scope, but with slight drift caused by a gentle
intermittent crosswind, the round had taken the sniper through the left eye.
The impact and energy imparted by the large and heavy round had taken away more
than half of his head. The sniper was thrown back from the truck far enough so
that Driscoll, from his slightly higher position, could see the body flopping
about, a head-shot phenomenon that snipers and few others were witness to.
Starr spoke again, “More work for you, Driscoll. We need to
leave a few surprises for these folks as we move out. I want you to set out a
few Claymore mines with trip wires.” Book available on Amazon:
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