Sniper One Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  About Roy Chandler

  Books by Roy Chandler

  Sniper One

  A Novel By

  Roy F. Chandler

  Copyright © 2000 and 2013 by Katherine R. Chandler. All rights reserved.

  Publication History

  ebook: 2013

  Katherine R. Chandler, Publisher

  St. Mary's City, Maryland

  First Printing: 2000

  Iron Brigade Armory

  Jacksonville, NC

  This is a work of fiction. The characters in this book and the situations depicted are the author's creations. They do and did not exist or happen.

  FOREWORD

  Since our chance meeting at the Showtime Deli the day after I returned from my first sniper course, Roy (Rocky) Chandler has been an important influence in my life. Rocky has opened doors for me that a young police officer could only dream of, and I have been able to attend prestigious schools including the United States Marine Corps' Law Enforcement Sniper Course at the Weapons Training Battalion, Stone Bay, NC.

  I have found that like so many of Rocky's book characters, he is the "real" thing. Rock's personal sense of honor and integrity permeates everything he says, does, and writes. I am privileged and proud to call him my friend.

  In his latest novel, Sniper One, Rocky Chandler continues his tradition of great action-packed adventures wherein USMC Scout Sniper "Clicker" Bell must survive first a desert war and later vengeful enemies.

  A reader should note that "Clicker" Bell owns a rifle that is regarded as the "finest sniper rifle in the world" and sounds coincidentally like the Chandler Sniper made by Colonel Norman Chandler's Iron Brigade Armory in Jacksonville, NC. Colonel Chandler is Rocky's brother and is respected by most military and police snipers as the builder of the finest sniper rifle in the world. As the proud owner of two of Colonel Chandler's sniper rifles I would agree and applaud "Clicker" Bell's selection of a sniper weapon.

  As a line police officer who serves as a SWAT Team Leader and sniper, I have identified with Roy Chandler's characters in past books and regard many as old friends that I revisit often by re-reading that "favorite Chandler book." Just like a kid at Christmas, I eagerly awaited Sniper One, and I was not disappointed! "Clicker" Bell is my kind of man, and once again Rocky Chandler has written my kind of book!

  Timothy K. Cameron

  Shatto's Way

  Morganza, Maryland

  Dedication

  This book is for

  Master Sergeant Neil K. Morris

  whom we honor as

  The United States Marine Corps'

  Master Scout Sniper

  Chapter 1

  Summer 1990

  The Colonel stood with his feet comfortably planted, his chest lifted, and his hands on his hips, thumbs to the rear. His jaws stayed closed, and his lips formed a straight line. Colonel Gregory Maynard looked like the Regular Army non-com he had once been, and if anyone had so remarked, the Colonel would have believed himself honored.

  Maynard did not feel honored by his current assignment. The Marine Corps had sent a young Captain to observe some pencil-necked nerds demonstrate how their marvelous machine was going to make idiots out of the Corps' finest. The Army, conversely, had ordered Colonel Gregory Maynard, one of their senior colonels into the field. The Marines had it right: pay minimum attention and get on with the real work.

  The assemblage of witnesses gazed across a mile or so of treeless, brush-dotted wild ground. The main cover was natural grass and the inevitable vines and brambles of Camp Lejeune Marine Base's maneuver areas. Somewhere out in front, Marine scout snipers were worming their unseen ways toward the watchers. The new thermal detector was attempting to pick them out at distant ranges.

  The snipers had been laboring while the spectators, ensconced on the elevated beds of open trucks, drank coffee, conversed, and peered through binoculars trying to locate snipers before the machine could find them.

  The thermal detector had arrived in three boxes. The detector itself sat on a tripod with its squarish head pointing down-range. Maynard figured that the snipers had immediately seen the magic box, and in the real world, would have called mortar or artillery fire on the thing or knocked it out with a single .30 caliber round from an M40A1 sniper rifle. One shot—exit one very expensive mechanism.

  Not today. This was the civilian geek's show, and they were all required to watch and "Ooh" and "Aah" when the device exposed otherwise perfectly concealed snipers.

  Heightening Colonel Greg Maynard's irritation, the civilian technicians were patronizing in their certainty that their technology would pick out the snipers as easily as they might coals in a snow bank. The engineer in charge was disdainful of the snipers' efforts and chuckled softly each time a sniper's body heat revealed his position on the machine's display. He gurgled again when assigned spotters were directed to the discovered sniper and required him to stand and leave the course.

  Maynard could feel his teeth grind and swore that if he was to be used for assignments like this he would welcome his pending retirement.

  Of course, leaving the military would put him out among the pointy-headed non-warriors he had long avoided, and he already sought ways to insulate himself from the new generation of soft-bellied and softer-headed baby boomers gradually assuming power.

  The old soldier did not like much of what he saw maturing within his country and as certain as hell, having machines dominate men was near the top of his hate list.

  The Tech Rep running the thermal detector had assured them that production models of the machine would be smaller and more capable than his prototype, and Maynard had to admit that the device was already good. The discovered snipers grouped to one side, and Maynard judged that the demonstration was about finished, and he could soon pack it in, return salutes, and get off the Marines' ground.

  The machine operator was seated on a folding stool positioned behind a field table. He rose, stretching as if he had done something, and turned to his audience.

  "That does it, gentlemen. All detected and none got closer than three hundred yards." Maynard despised the man's certainty as badly as his machine's accomplishment.

  Perched on the cab of a truck a Gunnery Sergeant said, "Not yet. You've got all but Sniper One. Clicker isn't accounted for."

  "What?" The technician turned hurriedly to his viewer. He scanned carefully before again straightening. "There is nothing living out there, Gunnery Sergeant. Whoever Clicker is he has not chosen this field to crawl in."

  The Gunny was unswayed. "Clicker is supposed to be out there, so that is where he's at." He waved at the group of detected snipers. "Count 'em yourself. Each has a number, and Number One isn't there."

  Maynard heard himself ask, "Who is Clicker?" He wondered if his unspoken hope showed.

  The non-com straightened to attention before answering. "Staff Sergeant Bell, Colonel. He's called Clicker because he's uncanny coaching shooters to click on elevation and windage changes. Bell is Chief Instructor at the Sniper School. They gave him Number One for good reasons, and he's still out there somewhere."

  The civilian technician's chuckle was patronizing. "Not today, Gunny. Your Clicker is likely sitting in Maggy's Drawers wondering where everybody else is."

&n
bsp; A pair of enormous tripod-mounted range binoculars capable of seeing bullet holes at five hundred yards had been set up to one side, and the technician turned to those observers.

  "Either of you see a sniper sneaking off the field? 'Cause there sure isn't anyone out there now."

  The man's irritating chuckle ground the Colonel's guts, and he saw the Gunny's outwardly bland gaze harden and focus on the civilian. Good—the Marines didn't like it either.

  Tight behind the smirking technician the earth moved, and a ghillie-clad figure rose soundlessly between the man and his machine.

  The appearance was ghostly and as quiet as smoke drifting among trees. Maynard felt his jaw sag before pure pleasure swept aside his astonishment. The Gunnery Sergeant observer laughed aloud, and the rest of the audience belatedly caught up. Amusement swept like a wave along the gathered observers.

  The civilian said, "What...?" Then caught the focus of their eyes. He whirled, and Greg Maynard saw the man recoil in disbelief.

  Take that, you buggy-eyed, limp-wristed puke! Maynard could not say it aloud to the self- important technician, but he could damn well think it.

  The sniper lowered the butt of his camouflaged rifle to the ground and stood easy, waiting for the laughter to subside.

  Maynard knew it had to be Staff Sergeant Clicker Bell, and no appearance could have pleased the soldier more.

  The Tech Rep was disbelieving. "You didn't come through that field. You weren't even out there."

  The sniper's voice was cold. "I was out there."

  One of the spotters came in. "He came right down the middle, Mister. I saw him most of the way, and so did some of the others." The spotter who wore corporal chevrons turned to the sniper. "Damned fine, Staff Sergeant."

  The civilian was not taking it well. He demanded to know how the sniper had done it, and he was turned down. He attempted to back-track the sniper's route but gave it up almost immediately to begin packing his machine along with much grumbling. Colonel Greg Maynard's day was lightening considerably.

  Everybody was not equally pleased by Staff Sergeant Bell's success, and as he passed the defeated snipers he heard one complaining that Clicker always had a gimmick and that one-on- one he, the speaker, would take Bell out every time.

  Maynard looked closely at the complainer, but with faces camouflaged they all looked alike.

  Other snipers snorted disbelief, and one said coldly, "You couldn't hold Clicker's hat, Gilroy, and we all know it. We got caught and he didn't, so just shut up."

  A touch of professional jealousy, Maynard figured and turned his thoughts ahead.

  The technician was again demanding to know how Bell had avoided detection, and the Staff Sergeant was refusing to tell him.

  Staff Sergeant Bell said, "What you would do is tinker with your rig until you found a way to specifically beat the particular skills I used. That would make your machine look good, but it would only mean that you had tuned everything for stuff you know about.

  "What you need to do is go back to your lab and improve your device." The camoed features smiled coldly. "When you come back, we'll be waiting with something new, anyway."

  The Marines allowed their non-coms a lot of latitude and then backed them. Maynard liked that and wished the U. S. Army used less commissioned rank and spread responsibilities more widely among their non-commissioned officers.

  The young Marine Captain came between the technician and the sniper. Staff Sergeant Bell turned toward his waiting snipers, and Maynard intercepted him.

  "Damn good job, Staff Sergeant. You made my day worthwhile."

  Bell grounded his rifle to a loose order arms and came to attention. "Thank you, Colonel." The sniper's voice turned cool. "Our civilian component is not as pleased."

  The old non-com in Greg Maynard popped to the front. "Who gives a rat's ass about civilians, Sergeant? You wiped their noses in it, and I enjoyed seeing them squirm."

  Maynard gestured to the dispersing scout snipers. "All of these men yours, Staff Sergeant?"

  "No, sir, only two. I brought along a pair of my Sniper School students to widen the experience among us." Bell gestured toward the departing Marines. "The others are snipers already assigned to line units within the 2nd Marine Division, plus one military policeman who graduated from our school a year ago."

  "Well, one of them wasn't overwhelmed when you popped up behind that Tech Rep. Claimed he could have done the same only...."

  Bell smiled for the first time. "That would be Corporal Gilroy, the MP I mentioned. Gilroy thinks he is Sergeant York, Hawkeye, and Tim Murphy combined." The camouflaged features nodded. "Gilroy can shoot, no question about that."

  Maynard waited for more, but Bell chose not to comment further. Curious, Maynard asked, "I recognize York and Hawkeye, but who is Tim Murphy, Sergeant?"

  "Murphy was our army's first famous sniper, Colonel. He shot a British general named Fraser from a hell of a distance during the battle of Saratoga in the Revolutionary War."

  "An unsung hero."

  "There are a lot of unsung sniper heroes, Colonel."

  "Too true, Bell. About the only one I've heard of is Carlos Hathcock from the Vietnam War."

  "The best of the best, Colonel. I'm honored to have visited Gunny Hathcock at his home, and I've gotten to know him a little bit."

  Maynard returned to business. "I want to know how you made that approach, Bell. You sure as hell did something the others didn't."

  Bell laughed aloud. "I sure as hell did, Colonel, and if you have the time, I suggest you follow us back to Stone Bay. I intend to report directly to Lieutenant Colonel Rock on how this turned out. We all worked together on the plan, and he will be waiting."

  "Colonel Rock?"

  "Lieutenant Colonel N. A. Rock, Stone Bay Commander, Colonel."

  "He at his headquarters now?"

  "He'll be there by the time we get in, Colonel."

  Maynard exchanged salutes and headed for his car. Staff Sergeant Bell joined his Marines, and Maynard saw the young captain climb into the front seat beside the driver while willing hands hoisted Bell into the open truck bed. There were a few enthusiastic "Oorahs," and Maynard saw a number of high fives exchanged. The sniper team was clearly pleased to have defeated the latest enemy brought against them.

  Damn, he still missed that barracks camaraderie. Officers rarely had the same closeness. Troops got shoved and pushed around, and some became tighter than brothers. They stood together against anything thrown at them, and they truly would die for each other. Where else in the world could you share that experience?

  Clicker Bell wondered a little about the plain-speaking Army Colonel. First, he wondered why a full colonel was observing such a small exercise. Still, the United States Army tended to send high ranking people into a lot of low level activities.

  Bell was slightly surprised that their Captain had showed up for this particular drill. The thermal machine was just a prototype. No one was about to invest money in the thing, at least not yet. The manufacturer had needed skilled people to test against, and the snipers got volunteered.

  Lieutenant Colonel Rock probably put the final OK on the demonstration because N. A. Rock was hugely interested in snipers. Where many officers saw snipers as just another marginal Military Occupational Specialty, Rock believed that properly employed snipers could change battles and win wars. Bell agreed, and the Sniper School's NCO In Charge and the "Old Man" hit it off well.

  Colonel Maynard parked facing the gymnasium and rounded the headquarters building to enter the front door. There was a Commanding Officer's entrance, and he could have just knocked and greeted the Lieutenant Colonel straight on, but he chose to go through the Sergeant Major—the way it was supposed to be done.

  The Marine Sergeant Major hustled down a corridor, and Maynard heard his presence announced. Lieutenant Colonel Rock appeared just as swiftly, hand outstretched and curiosity showing.

  "Welcome to Stone Bay, Colonel. I am N. A. Rock. How can we help
you?"

  They retired to Rock's office, and Maynard liked what he saw. Unlike his own sterile compartment, Rock's domain was spacious with the walls lined with guns, photographs, and odd bits of military memorabilia. A low table was littered with gun and gear magazines, and a large photograph of Marine hero General "Chesty" Puller vied for attention with the current Marine Commandant General "Al" Gray's craggy likeness.

  The Marine Lieutenant Colonel's desk was flanked by a pair of highly polished brass five inch shell casings, and a 155mm projectile stood dead center in front. Rock not only liked guns, he was a competitive shooter, and Mayanard saw his Distinguished Rifle and Distinguished Pistol certificates framed on a side wall. Impressive! Few officers attained those levels of excellence.

  N. A. waved Maynard to a chair and sunk into another behind his desk.

  "So, Staff Sergeant Bell's performance caught your attention did it, Colonel?" Bell had apparently not yet forwarded details of his success, and Maynard was pleased to fill in the facts.

  "Bell was outstanding, Colonel Rock. The company's Tech Rep was so pleased with himself that he wriggled. When Clicker stood up right behind him, it was like his world collapsed.

  If Rock noticed the use of Staff Sergeant Bell's nickname, he chose to pass, but his own pleasure was clear.

  Maynard told in detail how it had gone, and Rock nodded acceptance and understanding until he was finished.

  The Marine leaned back in his chair, obviously content with the report.

  "Damn, that's good news. We were not sure our scheme would work. Thermal is new to us, and, as usual, we were working off the top of our heads.

  "Of course, Bell is The Man in all of the planning. The rest of us just hang on and go with the ride. He has the ideas, we brainstorm them around and provide what he needs."

  Rock checked his watch. "I assume he is coming here to report"

  "Said he was, and suggested I come in and hear how he did it."