Last year I put up 3 posts that were based on a story that I was writing. Last week while looking through the tons of things I have started writing an never finished I found another part that I couldn’t find before. So without further ado, here is the final part, which isn’t all that exciting, but I think it gives some back story. For the record here is part 1, part 2, and part 3 of the story. As always…this is raw and uneditted so just realize that going into this!

When I joined the Marines I knew what I was getting into. It was going to be 12 weeks of in your face from the drill instructors. When we got off of the bus at Camp Pendleton it was no surprise to see the DI’s right there barking at us. Apparently some of the other guys that I came in with didn’t know what to expect and were trying to make up for their stupidity. I almost laughed but didn’t. It would only bring the wrath of the instructors upon me.

The platoon I was in was made up of the people I’d ridden with on the bus and a few stragglers. Most of them were older than me, by a year or two, but that didn’t mean they were smarter than me. Their lack of knowledge showed up when we started doing drills and other exercises that had been done for years.

Despite my prior knowledge of what was going to go on during these 12 weeks, I was not chosen to lead our platoon, which was fine with me. I just wanted to get through and be on my way. For everything but the shooting, I did it half hearted. I didn’t want to stick out on anything but the shooting. Shooting was going to get me where I wanted to go.

On the range I was the best shot of the platoon and a couple of other peoples. The instructors had a few corrections to my setup, but other than that I breezed through the shooting and we were into the Cruicible next.

In the Crucible, just like the military had planned, everything finally came together and my platoon was the best team through. I was quite stunned, but also proud of the fact.

At graduation, I stood there tall and proud representing my country, but no one came to see me graduate from class. It was madder than hell at my father for missing my graduation. My mother, who I hadn’t seen since I was 15, didn’t show either. I didn’t care about her. Instead of heading home on my 30 day break I stayed in San Diego and partied with some of the other guys.

After my 10 days of debauchery I reported back to camp where I was supposed to decide what I wanted to do. I knew what I wanted to do and that was be a sniper. They scoffed at me when I told them that I wanted to go to sniper school. Told me I should do something else until I grew up.

“Check my records,” I told them. “I was the best shot at my class.”

“Son, I don’t care if you’re the presidents own god dam son. You are not going to sniper school at 17 years old.”

“Eighteen,” I kindly informed him.

He gave me one of those drill instructor looks that I’d seen before. I stopped my pushing and started leafing through their catalog.

There was nothing that really interested me, so I just choose the first thing that came to mind. Machine gunner.

“A fine choice,” The sergeant said.

I smiled and moved on like a good boy.

After school, which lasted 12 weeks, I was stationed in Washington, which was a good post.

I went through all the motions, but inside I still was looking to become a sniper. A couple of snipers were on base and I’d seen them here and there, but I’d never been able to talk to them until one night the liquor started to talk for me.

We were in one of those bars that served any military person and I’d been there for awhile drinking beer after beer. Some guy came in and sat down next to me. He was bemoaning to his friend how bad he had shot that day. I gave a snicker and he looked over at me.

“You got a problem?” He asked.

“No excuse for not shooting straight. Gun does its job and you should be able to do yours. Pull the trigger.”

“Sounds like you think you can shoot,” He said.

“I’m okay.”

“I’ll right then. Lets you and me go and shoot a few rounds and see whose better.”

“Okay,” I said before I could think.

It was dark and rainy outside. I almost told the guys that we should do it tomorrow, but the liquor that had gotten me in this was still pulsing through my veins.

I followed them to the armory where they convinced the guard to give them their rifles. I watched as the guard handed them their rifles. I shook my head in disbelief as they took the rifles from the guard. They were sniper rifles.

Two things ran through my mind at that moment. The first was to find some excuse to get out of this and the second was that this was the opportunity I’d been waiting for. If I performed well, despite my boneheaded act at the bar, maybe I could get an invite to the sniper platoon.

The misting rain had woken me up a bit more and I was feeling pretty good when we reached the range. I was buzzing from the alcohol and from the opportunity that was now before me.

As we were getting ready to shoot, a jeep drove up near our position.

“Johnson, what the hell do you think your doing?” This new person yelled out.

I stood up straight and saluted the sergeant.

Both of the other men did the same thing.

“Sir, we were just going to show this young punk how to shoot. Said there was no excuse for not shooting straight.”

The sergeant looked over at me. “Is that the case?”

“Yes sir,” I replied.

“I can’t have you making fun of one of my boys, but I also can’t have you guys shooting out here in the darkness. You’ll wake up the general and then I’ll be in deep shit. So, tomorrow morning we will commence this exercise. Understood?”

“Yes sir,” All three of us said in unison.

“Johnson and Craig get in the jeep,” Sergeant said.

They drove off leaving me to walk back to the barracks in the rain. I’d been bailed out for which I was thankful, but tomorrow I would need to be on my game or I’d look like a total fool and there’d be no way I was going to get into the sniper program.

I crashed into my bed at one in the morning and fell asleep instantly.

The anticipation of the next days events kept me up for awhile, but when I did drift to sleep I had dreams of my brother Josh whom I’d accidentally killed years before. At 0530, I woke up in a sweat and couldn’t fall back asleep. The last time I’d had dreams of Josh was right before I told dad I was joining the Marines to be a sniper.

I laid in bed, surrounded by the snoring of the other grunts, wondering why it was that I had these dreams. Perhaps they were a sign that something significant was going to change in my life. I decided that’s what it was. Today I would have good luck on the range.

In the middle of PT, the sergeant who had came out the night before, drove up to my sergeant and motioned for me. I smiled and ran forward and gave a quick salute.

“Sergeant Lee here tells me you were messing with some of his men last night. That true Stone?”

“Yes sir,” I replied.

“Sergeant Lee, you should’ve told me about this first thing this morning. I would’ve made sure that Mr. Stone, would’ve been doing some extra PT.”

“No need sergeant Woods. He did make a rude comment that my boys want to set straight with him. You mind if I take him for the rest of this morning?”

“He’s all yours.”

“Thank you,” Sergeant Lee said.

I followed Lee over to his jeep and climbed into the passenger side with him. He didn’t say a single word while we drove over to the rifle range.

At the range the whole platoon was there waiting for Sergeant Lee.

“Gentleman,” Lee said to the two men I’d ran into the night before.

They both stepped forward, rifles in hand.

“Jones, my rifle,” Sergeant Lee said.

A man stepped forward with an extra rifle. Sergeant Lee handed me his rifle.

“It’s zeroed in for 500 yards. If anything happens to that rifle your ass is mine, he growled at me. Now lets get this silly business over so my platoon can get back to their chores.”

The two snipers and I went to the range and laid down in the prone position. I pulled the bolt on the rifle back checking to see if there was a load in the chamber. There was.

The targets were up at 500 yards which was nice for me. I looked through the scope and sighted in on one of the targets. I breathed in and then let my breath out half of the way, like I’d been taught by my dad. I held the half breath and squeezed the trigger.

Quickly I removed the shell and slammed home another one and waited for a confirmation on the target.

“Dead center,” Sergeant Lee called out after he’d been radioed the information.

Johnson was up next and I watched intently as he went through his procedure. He did the breathing thing and squeezed the trigger.

We waited another couple of seconds.

“Dead center,” Sergeant Lee called out.

Craig’s shot was also dead center.

“Mr. Stone, it appears as if you can shoot, but can you estimate distances and shoot while your ghillied up?”

“Yes Sir,” I replied.

“Well good then. So we can do away with this bullshit and see how you really shoot. In the bush and in position is where it counts. That’s where Johnson and Craig are having problems so this fits right into our schedule today. Grab my ghillie Jones,” Sergeant Lee called out.

The four of us were driven out to what they referred to as their playground, which was really just a dense forest. Home again.

“Alright then. Craig and Johnson you know the drill. Mr. Stone your objective is the target at the other side of this. Myself and my other scouts here will be observing your route to see if we can spot you.”

I continued to smile.

“The objective is to take a shot without being spotted. The target will be to the right of us as your looking on. Understand?”

“Yes sir.”