First Solo Kill: When the Bullet Finds Its Mark

Editor’s Note: The hunt for Blackjack takes a dangerous turn, and the decision to engage becomes a life-or-death moment. Here’s the second and final part of First Solo Kill: Always When You Least Expect It. If you haven’t yet, read the first part here.

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All real names have been changed.

Morty acknowledged the call; time to get that sparkle going. I peeked down to find my radio and looked up just in time to see two of the three guys running away from us across the dried river to my right. They were both armed with rifles and sprinting full speed.

I decided to engage the guy furthest away from me first. He was about 80 meters away and wearing dark-colored clothing.

Still kneeling, I shouldered my SCAR 16, put my IR laser center mass on the poor devil, and sent him to meet his other three buddies. He looked like one of those narcoleptic weenie dogs, running full speed and then suddenly, like a light switch, asleep.

I transitioned left to the other guy, but he quickly retreated to where he came from behind the three-foot ledge. Can’t blame him after what just happened to his friend.

I shifted back and put two more rounds in the narcoleptic weenie dog for good measure. You can never be too sure!

By this time, Morty was next to me and said, “What do ya got?” I filled him in on what had played out and that I thought the third guy was likely hiding behind that ledge, too. I immediately performed a tactical reload. You never know when a few extra bullets in a magazine may be needed.

I don’t know if it was my idea or Morty’s, but the new plan was for him to stay on the hill and provide cover fire while me, Peterman, and Steinbrenner made a right-hand flank to sneak up on these fools.

Morty called up a SITREP (situation report) to the PSG and I relayed the plan to my team. I told them about the shoot on sight call and for Steinbrenner to leave the litter with Morty since we knew contact was imminent. I didn’t want him to be burdened with the extra weight.

After talking to the PSG, it was time to act. Morty started shooting at the ledge where the two bad guys were. His job was to ensure they kept their heads down and stayed in place. For some reason, Morty’s SCAR was having issues and was malfunctioning after every shot. Not ideal for what we were trying to accomplish, but we were already committed.

I led my team down the hill in a wide right-hand arc as planned; Peterman was about three meters behind me and Steinbrenner was another three meters behind him.

After getting almost perpendicular with Morty, who was still providing single shot cover fire, I was now on the opposite side of the riverbed on the uphill slope.

I was the furthest forward between the three of us with Peterman behind me and Steinbrenner behind him. From Morty’s position, we looked like a diagonal line; me on the top left, Peterman in the middle, and Steinbrenner at the bottom right. We could now see on the other side of the three foot ledge where we knew the guys should be, but we still couldn’t see anyone. It was time to clear through and flush them out.

As we got near the dead body of weenie dog man, I called for Morty to shift fire left as we continued to move forward. After about 30 seconds, I was now parallel to the start of the ledge and 20 meters from it. The ledge continued further down for another 40ish meters before it made a sharp left turn. I didn’t like being so close to the ledge where these guys were, but this was as far away as I could get without silhouetting myself with the night sky.

We were moving slow and methodical; pretty much creeping so as not to give our position away. We wanted these last two guys to think we were still on the hill with Morty. The low flying Kiowa’s were doing a great job helping cover our footsteps.

I was approaching the end of the ledge where it made the hard left turn, and we still hadn’t seen either of the bad guys. I was positive they wouldn’t have been able to run away without me, Morty, or the helicopters seeing them.

It was the end of the line. One more step and I’ll have a direct line of sight on the only place they could be. I thought I was going to find both guys, but to my surprise, there was only one of them.

He was about 25 meters away with his back to me in a crouching position.

I could make out the dark shoulder straps of his chest rig on top of his white man dress. I could also see the butt stock of his AK sticking up on the right side of his head.

I stopped, got into a good stance, and put my laser dead center on his back. I switched my rifle to fire and put two rounds in the center of his back and watched him fall forward.

Just as I fired my second shot, there was a quick series of flashes on my left from near the three foot ledge. Fuck. Well, there’s the second guy. He must have been hiding in a damn good spot because all three of us completely missed him.

My muzzle flash must have been a huge arrow for him because he was now sending rounds my way. Needless to say, from this night on, I always had my suppressor attached.

I snapped my head left to find the threat and my gun naturally followed. By the time I identified the shooter and got my laser on him, Peterman had already gone to work and put a family of rounds in him. I joined in with my own three or four rounds to make me feel better about him scaring me.

Without hesitation, I checked on the guy I shot in the back to make sure he was dead. Nope. I should have gone with a headshot.

He had gotten back up and was now facing me with his AK at the ready. He opened up on full auto, but his rounds hit low and to my right. Lucky doesn’t describe it.

It felt like an eternity for my laser to reach him, but once it did, I started firing as fast as my little finger could pull the trigger. While shooting, I started walking to my left. My thought, or instinct rather, was that as I move left, I would be out of his view, and he would have to expose himself more to continue shooting at me.

I probably shot around 20 bullets before I got down in the prone. Peterman was also shooting at him; or at least where my laser was pointed. He couldn’t see who I was shooting at, but Peterman was smart enough to know that he should be shooting at whatever, or whoever, his Team Leader was.

From where I was laying on the ground, I noticed Peterman’s muzzle flashes above me which caused me to yell, “Get down here!”

He said “Oh shit! Sorry!” and lay down a few feet away on my left. The enemy gun fire had stopped, and I could make out his nasty little feet and sandals as the dust started to clear. I thought to myself that he had to be laying on his back because of the way his feet were positioned; like he was taking a nap.

“I’m gonna reload, cover me.” I told Peterman and then put in a fresh magazine. I dropped my used one in my dump pouch and said “Alright, you reload. I’ll watch.”

Once we both reloaded, I said “Stay here and cover me. I’m gonna push right and make sure this dude is dead.”

He replied with a simple “Roger, Sergeant.”

I shot twice at the guy’s dirty little feet to make sure my gun was good to go and to see if he would move. Nothing. I got up and started walking to my right; keeping my laser on the entire time until his entire body was in sight. Yup, definitely looked like he was taking a dirt nap. Which I guess he technically was. He was on his back and at a slight angle with his head furthest from me and to my right. I put my laser on his torso and shot two more times.

There was no movement from his body, but also no sign that my rounds went into him; even though I was now only 20 meters away. It was as if I was completely missing my shots, but I knew there was no way for that to be possible.

I started moving towards him. I put two more rounds in his chest from a few feet away; taking care not to hit his AK or chest rig which held three AK magazines and two grenades.

I passed a quick SITREP to Morty who was still on the hill. He said he was moving down to us and that another Squad and our Alpha team was on their way as well.

When everyone showed up, it was time to collect DNA, take photos of the EKIA (Enemy Killed in Action), and search the bodies. As it turned out, the guy who I shot in the back was Blackjack; the main guy we have been looking for. That explains why he weighed nearly twice as much as the other two guys, was better groomed, and had better equipment than his dead bodyguards.

There was a small cave opening in the direction Blackjack was facing when he was crouching before I first shot him. It was maybe 20 meters away from where he lay dead.

My guess is that the first two guys who took off running were attempting to create a distraction so he could escape to the cave. We’ll never know for sure, but that’s my best guess. If that was the case, he almost made it.

As we were finishing up, Morty threw a grenade in the cave. We didn’t have a reason to believe anyone was in there, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.

About a week before this, I had just done the paperwork for my first reenlistment. All that was left to do was the swearing in portion. I asked my PSG if I could swear in right then and there. He was cool with it if we had security set.

I think it was Kramer, another Team Leader in the squad that showed up, who had an American flag on their back. I asked him to turn around and I pulled it out of his bag. Kramer and George unfolded it and held it up while our PL administered the oath, and I repeated it. I don’t know if it’s something Officers are forced to memorize, but he rattled off the oath from memory without a hitch and without a refresher.

George was still PISSED that him and his team weren’t the ones to go after the squirters. Looking back, it would have been a safer and smarter call to just have an air asset drop some bombs on them instead of us tracking them down, but where’s the fun in that?

Speaking of fun, the next day we went to our flat range and took turns shooting the AK’s that we took off the two dead guys from the riverbed. It’s a strange and interesting thing to shoot the guns that were used to try and kill you.

In Blackjack’s chest rig, we found one of my bullets that had been stopped by one of his grenades. I ended up taking that home and giving it to my mom; the bullet and not the grenade of course.

Everything we took off target as evidence, like weapons and equipment, gets blown up sometime during the deployment before we head home.

A few weeks later we hit a target in a different area. While we were searching the house, we found pictures of Blackjacks funeral on a cell phone. They had him all cleaned up and in a bed of flowers.

Where the fuck did they find flowers?