Scout Snipers have a mantra.
I learned that mantra years ago when I was assigned to lead a platoon of these Marines. My chief scout in the platoon, a title held by the most experienced Scout Sniper, was Damon.
When we met in 2012 on Camp Lejeune, Damon was in his late twenties. His guys were at-home in the woods and with a load on their backs; they rarely complained about being dirty, tired or uncomfortable. I learned quickly that Scout Snipers were the best in the battalion, regular infantrymen who had started out carrying an assault rifle or lobbing mortars but aspired to something sleeker, freer and more elite. Before graduating the arduous Scout Sniper Basic Course to earn his new, coveted title, Damon himself had carried a machine gun on a deployment to Anbar province. I remember the front of his uniform was covered in ribbons and medals earned on combat tours. On his back were the words “Scout Sniper.” They were branded into his skin.
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