Sniper Elite (15 page)

We had to move from that location, which meant travelling all night to a different area where we would get some rest and then conduct some reconnaissance patrols by day.

During another move we found a tank troop harbour. I was the lead scout and on foot for our six-man patrol, ATVs trailing quietly behind. Suddenly to the left at about 40 metres from the corner of my eye I saw a main gun barrel from a Leopard 2 slightly protruding from a heavily vegetated area. We back-tracked slowly taking each step deliberately, making sure we didn't step or drive on anything that would make a noise and alert the enemy to us. It was a very slow process to move the hundred or so metres away from where we initially saw the enemy. We went into all-round defence and conducted a listening stop for approximately one hour to try to pick up some of their routine.

These tanks have to start up every now and then to recharge their batteries, so you can count how many tanks or at least get a rough idea of how many there are when they start up one after the other. Once we had a fair idea we quietly slipped away even further and Dave called a notional air strike onto them.

By now we needed a resupply so we headed off to a pre-designated area that Nev had organised for the C130 to drop our requested supplies to us by parachute. It was very dark that night but everything ran smoothly.

Soon we were coming towards the end of the exercise and had to make our way to our extraction point. Pick-up was by C130 at night, and as I drove my ATV up the back ramp and into the belly of the aircraft I felt quite proud that I was part of the regiment and finally doing something where I felt a sense of achievement.

After the exercise, 3SQN was going to drive back to Perth cross-country via the Canning Stock Route. I had to miss this, as I needed to get back for the start of the SF sniper course. This was by far the best sniper course I had been on. We covered all the basic principles at the beginning and then rapidly moved on to more advanced tactical applications and a variety of sniper weapon systems, including the 7.62 mm semi-automatic, the .338 and the .50-calibre suite. As well as collating ballistic data in log books we also used a personal digital assistant (PDA) to calculate firing solutions. This uses specifically designed software to give you elevation and windage settings by analysing the data you input. Some of the data you need to apply is range, wind strength and direction, muzzle velocity and projectile weight. Of course it's only as accurate as the data you program into it but if done correctly you can safely guarantee a first-round hit at 1,000 metres. The percentage of hits will start to drop after that range; for example at 1,200 metres it generally drops to about 85 per cent. But even then if your round misses it would still be close enough to make a very small adjustment and hit with your second shot.

We spent a lot of time on the ranges shooting out to 1,000 metres with the 7.62 mm weapons, and out to 1,800 metres and 2.5 kilometres with the larger calibre rifles. I gained valuable knowledge on different wind conditions at the Perth ranges as the sea breeze gets quite strong and is never constant. It even does a complete 180-degree turn at about 1100 to 1200 hours at certain times of the year. This is all very valuable experience for the sniper. Learning about wind can quite easily turn into what seems like a science: for example, if the rifle bore has a right-hand twist, the projectile will spin clockwise on its trajectory and if the wind is coming from 9 o'clock it will push your round slightly low and to the right, while a wind at 3 o'clock will throw the round a little higher to the left as it climbs the fingers of the wind. How far the round is pushed depends on the wind strength.

We also incorporated shooting with a spotter as much as possible, rotating between tasks after each shoot. This gave the spotters confidence in adjusting the sniper onto a target, calling wind strengths, directions and ‘mirage' with increasing accuracy. A lot of time was dedicated to shooting moving targets; this was a big part of the counter-terrorism (CT) phase.

The course ran for eight weeks and encompassed the ‘green' (field) side of sniping, and domestic CT. We shot a lot at night using thermal imagers (TI), and image intensifiers (a night observation device that amplifies ambient light). We also experimented shooting through different types of glass with a variety of rounds and studying the effects.

Apart from the first stalk, every one was a ‘live fire' stalk, by day and night. This is where we really needed to calculate the trajectory over the range of the shot, because if the round didn't have a clear path through foliage or buildings it would be deflected and you wouldn't hit the target. As the course progressed we did more in an urban environment, learning different applications for camouflage and concealment, tactical movement and approach shooting. We also practised helo (helicopter) sniping from a Blackhawk.

Much of the course was centred on Lancelin and Bindoon. Lancelin is full of saltbush intertwined with a really fine vine, like a creeper that runs through the scrub at ankle level. It is public land but there's a naval gunfire impact area and the live fire range extends out to several kilometres. It's really ideal for the task except for the ticks–little red ones–which are absolutely everywhere and in plague proportions. They get in mostly around your belt area, we've tried many methods of prevention and extraction but nothing seems to work. You are supposed to twist them off so they don't leave their head buried inside your skin, but this never works either. Some blokes do get a bad reaction from them, but generally you'll end up with a small and very itchy sore that can last up to four weeks. They feed on the kangaroos and often you'll come across a mob that will be in very poor condition; some may not even hop off like the others because they've got so many ticks sucking the life out of them.

At the end of the course we were presented our crossed rifles–my third–and proceeded to get pissed at the bar. On return to 3SQN we concentrated on overseas recovery operations, similar to what the American Delta Force does. The OC did an exceptional job raising our capability on overseas recovery to a comparable standard to that of the US and British Special Forces. Obviously, we would never get right to the top without the kind of assets and weaponry they had but we were improving our capability all the time. We trained aggressively and tried to cover every scenario.

Then suddenly in Iraq the Australian businessman Douglas Wood was taken hostage. We reckoned the timing couldn't have been more perfect.

We heard about Douglas Wood's capture on the news the day before we left Campbell Barracks for a hostage rescue exercise in Adelaide. Initially, I thought, ‘He'll be released very shortly,' but when we got to the airport at Adelaide and came together as a group the CO was there. He told us the good news–good for us because it was looking highly likely that we would get the chance to execute the regiment's first overseas recovery job; not so good for Douglas Wood at the time.

This was a big deal for the Australian Government also. The setup we had been developing was untested in combat conditions at the time so Adelaide was a good exercise for us to prove our capabilities. It was more along the lines of a domestic CT response, which involved the police, emergency services and others. But we could still include what we had been working on.

The police were the first responders. They evaluated the situation: hostages were taken in a violent fashion and automatic weapons were involved; that meant the threat to the hostages was quite high. If the captors threatened to shoot them or had shot one and thrown him out the door as a statement, then we would respond.

In the event, the exercise was successful; our tactics worked well under pressure and we learned some valuable lessons. We returned to Perth and prepared to embark four patrols to Baghdad. We were all raring to go. Then suddenly four patrols were cut to just two and we wondered how we were going to handle the job with so few of us.

When they announced the names of the two patrols, I was glad to see mine there. We conducted further training together to get back ‘on net' because as a patrol we had not worked together directly. We went through the specialist skills designating each operator to particular tasks and I was designated the patrol sniper. I was armed with my M4 and a USP 9 mm hand gun, I also took my SR25, a 7.62 mm sniper rifle. This gave me the ability to either shoot at long range or conduct close quarter combat.

Defence engaged a civilian charter plane and we flew direct to Kuwait, where we put some gear together at an Allied base that had been maintained there since the first Gulf War. We then boarded an Australian Hercules and flew straight to Iraq. We landed at Baghdad international airport around midday and transferred to armoured vehicles for the drive to where the Australian Security Detachment (SECDET) were staying.

They were based in an American facility–formerly the old Ba'ath Party HQ–just on the verge of the Green Zone. SECDET were a detachment of battalion soldiers who were responsible for the Australian Embassy's security. My patrol was attached to the Delta boys from the US. The other patrol stayed in our hasty accommodation where SECDET were and were attached to taskforce (TF) Black, the British Special Boat Service–the SF unit of the Royal Marines–and commuted to and from the SBS quarters–all in the Green Zone but a stone's throw from each other.

We had ideas of integrating us into the Allied teams and working with their guys, but we wanted to get the operation out of the way first. The CO told us we'd be there for three months regardless. ‘As soon as the operation finishes you'll start working with the other SF groups,' he said. This would have been awesome, as they were doing some fantastic work. But as it turned out we found ourselves caught up in what we called the ‘intelligence game'.

The Australians, British and Americans were spreading a lot of cash around trying to buy intelligence about Douglas Wood's whereabouts. Not surprisingly, the Iraqis were coming forward with information that was no good, taking the cash and doing a runner. Then there were two Iraqi doctors, a married couple, who were selling a lot of information to anyone who was prepared to pay for it, and they were pulling in a lot of cash. But they were walking a very fine line; it's almost like being a double agent–which they probably were–if you were found out supplying information, you would lose your head. They gave information about Douglas Wood but it was very vague because they knew they could come back and get more money. In this case it didn't do anyone much good and these two finished up dead.

But every now and again you would get what the Americans call a ‘walk-in'. These are locals who would approach American soldiers with information. Nine times out of 10 the response they get would be ‘Forget it buddy, piss off'. It is very rare that someone is genuine but occasionally it really pays off. That's what happened with the Italian journalists recovered in 2005. They had a walk-in by a guy who said he had information. The Americans initially said, ‘Bugger off, mate, you're taking the piss.' This bloke came back shortly after and offered information regarding some Europeans. He was interviewed and the captives turned out to be Italians.

Our teams rehearsed nearly every day in building clearances, insertion and extraction and shooting just in case we got confirmation of the whereabouts of Douglas Wood and we'd able to react accordingly. There was a lot of information coming forward but nothing of substance. We were working on the basis that if we were 80 per cent confident in its provenance we'd act on it, whereas the Americans were working on a much lower level of proof. In fact, they would respond on very small amounts of information, which is probably not a bad idea when a hostage is in great danger, but they did end up hitting a lot of dry holes. They would hit target after target and gain very little. It did put their guys at risk but at least they could then take that information out of the equation. They were as keen as mustard to help us out.

To secure our 80 per cent confirmation with some of the sources coming forward we would buy them a camera and tell them to go away to get a snapshot of Douglas Wood. These are guys living on the edge, so you have to expect some pretty weird results. There was one guy, an absolute nut case, who had heard that the Americans were looking for an Australian so he made himself known. He was given money to buy a camera and take a picture of Douglas Wood. He took the money but bought a phone–not a phone with a camera, just a phone.

The Delta guys were not happy. These fellas are firm but fair, and said to him, ‘Do that again and you'll end up in prison!' He was given more money–this time to buy a camera, and was told, ‘Get a photo of Douglas Wood, and tell us where he is.'

So he went away and bought a camera, but then came back and asked for more money. He was now pushing his luck. ‘Go and get some proof of identity,' he was ordered. He returned with some bogus information about some Turkish hostages in the same place who were being anally raped.

‘Go and get the address.'

‘Back soon.'

You've got to admire the Americans' patience. I don't know where he went but when he came back he displayed a photo he'd taken: ‘This is your guys,' he said. It showed a TV screen of some male porn, but you could see the outside of a TV set on the edges of the photo!

The Americans said, ‘Thanks very much, mate. You're going straight to prison.' It turned out this guy's family had been killed during a significant battle and he was after a bit of payback. They figured he was setting us up to assault a compound or a house which may have been wired full of explosives, and on detonation would collapse the house on the team.

Our Australian intelligence guys in Baghdad worked hard to get information also. It was the first overseas recovery job the Australians were involved in, so the agencies really wanted to do a top job. They were really working hard to get some good intelligence as to where Mr Wood was. They got close–they worked on an informer who said he wasn't too far away, which was actually the case, but we just couldn't pinpoint the right spot. The Americans also had intelligence that he was in the general area but they couldn't discover the exact building either.

However, just as some really good information came forward a combined American–Iraqi operation swept through an area and found him. We were happy for Douglas Wood but disappointed we were not able to help with the recovery.

It was a big anticlimax for all involved, because everyone on the project had worked hard. We were trained to do the job and we'd have done it well given the chance. We did a little bit of security for Douglas Wood at the hospital and the other team did security for him when he was transferred to Dubai, but that was it. Game over.

Before leaving we conducted a security survey on the Australian Embassy in Baghdad and put together a contingency plan if unwanted guests were to break through the physical security.

We wrapped up the survey in about five days and left shortly afterwards. Debriefing was important on our return. Everything you do first up always provides lessons. This operation was entirely new to all Australian Government agencies and we figured there was probably a good chance that we would change the way we went about it next time. Maybe the government saw it as a bit of a tester, as they too were probably concerned about how it was all going to run. Douglas Wood himself was a bit of a rarity in that he had an American wife and was living in the US, and his captors saw him as a source of income, not a political statement.

We returned to Australia in July and resumed our normal training pattern for about three months. At the time some of the squadrons were well under their nominal strength. So it really came as no surprise when word passed around in October that reinforcements were needed for 2 Squadron in Afghanistan. I was on the east coast on a special recovery operations (SRO) exercise when the OC called in six of us and told us we'd been chosen. ‘Any dramas with that?' he asked.

‘Nope, no dramas.'

‘Okay, you're leaving tonight. Pack your bags; don't say anything to the other blokes. You have to go to Randwick barracks where they're conducting pre-deployment lectures.'

We sat in these ridiculous lectures for three days before we rebelled. The lectures aimed at the wider army and were totally irrelevant to what we do. They might have helped people in an admin role who didn't train for conflict, but not frontline soldiers. Towards the end of day three there was a lesson on Afghan culture, and were amazed that a Sydney taxi driver was brought in to talk to us. I thought that was quite appropriate for Sydney, but not ideal considering the circumstances.

However, the guy who was running the pre-deployment package was really good. When we told him we'd had enough he said, ‘No worries, you've done enough for me to sign you off anyway.'

Back at Campbell Barracks we did some more build-up training before departure. There was probably half the patrol who hadn't worked with each other before. So we developed some patrol integrity and worked up some drills to get accustomed to each other's idiosyncrasies. This would also be beneficial when working in the dark–you could identify someone by the way they moved or conducted their drills. Of course, we knew when we got there we'd all get farmed out to different patrols but it's good to work closely with as many members of the regiment as possible. You never know when you'll be thrown together on an operation, and knowing each other's strengths and weaknesses can mean life or death.

We took the same chartered plane that had flown us to the Middle East earlier that year. And from Kuwait we travelled to Qatar where there was quite a large contingent of admin staff and RAAF personnel. This was the base for the C130s in the Gulf. They were attached to a huge American camp big enough to support several messes. We weren't there long before a C130 flew us directly to Tarin Kowt, Oruzgan, Afghanistan. It was like walking into a reunion as we were led around our compound and shown the accommodation. We were briefed by the troop sergeant, PG, who reckoned it was going to be on between us and the Taliban up north. Our first patrol was to take us through the area where 2 Squadron had previously been viciously contacted by the enemy in the Khod valley. So with that in the back of our minds we spent as much time as possible on the range.

Three days later we were heading out.

I was in RH's patrol; a bunch of magic blokes. Four were straight off the reinforcement cycle that had been sent to 2 Squadron and immediately overseas. But they were good soldiers. One was an ex-clearance diver and the other three had infantry backgrounds.

Once we left the gates we headed north to a place called Saraw. I rode on the back of the LRPV as an extra shooter as we drove through villages every 10 to 15 kilometres apart. At the side of the road I saw an old T55 Russian tank half buried on a river's edge, a reminder of the history of Afghanistan, which has been at some kind of war for longer than we've been writing history books.

The countryside was a mix of stark, bare, rocky mountains and valleys–‘the green'–is the lush vegetation either side of a large river usually stretching out to 1–2 kilometres at right angles to the river. The wind rose and fell unpredictably and changed direction as it whipped around the mountain passes. There were no trees on the hillsides to act as indicators of wind strength or direction, so when calculating adjustments for your scope a sniper had to rely on small puffs of the fine dust from the shoes of moving targets or from the tyres of vehicles. You could also get an idea of the wind strength as the target's clothes flapped in the gusts. Sometimes if you were lucky you could get an indication from a small flag or piece of cloth that was hanging from a compound wall.

Generally the women stayed inside the compounds, but we would often have kids staring at us as we passed. The men–bearded and surly–would be in the fields with their crops or gathered in small groups lazily seeing the day out. You'd never get a friendly grin out of any of them. If you wanted information, you paid, and you could never be sure if they were telling you the truth. At best, only 25 per cent of the population seemed to be on side with us. Many of them said they hated the Taliban and they probably did, but at least they provided some kind of law and order. Some spoke very broken English, so we would communicate through an interpreter hired from an American company. They treated the government in Kabul with the contempt it probably deserved. And there was never a minute outside your own base when you could relax.