Every Marine, is by mandate and training, a marksman. "Every Marine, a rifleman" is the old saying for Jarheads. But there are some who have the talent to do the impossible. Most likely, they can shoot the wings off a fly, but they don't get that way by luck or being born with it. Raw talent and patience like that needs to be pounded into an individual 'til it's all he can eat, sleep, drink, and think about...the perfect shot. Here in the 11th, we don't take anyone's word for it. If you want the job, you gotta earn it. And to earn it, you gotta go to Sniper School. To qualify for Sniper School in the 11th Marines, you gotta apply yourself. To do that, you've gotta sign up to participate in training sessions by command, shooting moving and static targets until your trigger finger hurts. If you can kill 50 targets under instructor supervision, and show your discipline and patience for the Corps, you got the job. But with the skill of a sniper comes the burden of conflict, striving for that perfect shot...
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SKILL ONETo become a sniper, you must familiarize yourself with any and all available precision rifle platforms. You must become a rifleman before you call yourself a sniper.
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SKILL TWOTo become a sniper you must learn to love your rifle. And to learn to love the conditions you are handed to shoot in. Not everyone is going to be facing you down in near-perfect conditions.
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Skill ThreeYou must learn to win. Winning is not only destroying the enemy, but instilling fear into his comrades to never again challenge the might and invincibility of distance you possess. Make them learn to fear the distance more than death.
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This is my rifle. There are many like it, but this one is mine.
My rifle is my best friend. It is my life. I must master it as I must master my life. Without me, my rifle is useless. Without my rifle, I am useless. I must fire my rifle true. I must shoot straighter than my enemy who is trying to kill me. I must shoot him before he shoots me. I will... My rifle and I know that what counts in war is not the rounds we fire, the noise of our burst, nor the smoke we make. We know that it is the hits that count. We will hit... My rifle is human, even as I, because it is my life. Thus, I will learn it as a brother. I will learn its weaknesses, its strength, its parts, its accessories, its sights and its barrel. I will keep my rifle clean and ready, even as I am clean and ready. We will become part of each other. We will... Before God, I swear this creed. My rifle and I are the defenders of my country. We are the masters of our enemy. We are the saviors of my life. So be it, until victory is America's and there is no enemy, but peace! |
Remember this creed. It is your life, and your death. This poem is your lullaby and your epitaph. The life of a sniper is not a glamorous one, but rather a sad and lonely one. You are fearful by strength and invincible by distance. You will be the embodiment of fear, but the price for that curse is you have to learn to sacrifice a bit of yourself and let a lethal and terrifying monster take hold. To allow him to strike down your enemies, but stain your soul and your conscience with the blood and fear of your enemies. And after all the war and fighting has stopped, you must look to yourself and and bear the torture of being a taker of lives.
"May my hands forget their skill" - Sniper School Motto |