A green phantom stalks these lands,
Thirty Ought Six in a Master's hands.
Chamber a matched, perfect round,
Slide home the bolt, forward and down.
Stay detached, loose and cool,
Time your breathing, remember the rule.
Get them now, kill them clean,
before they can hurt another Marine.
The first dies quick, the second has looked,
that one dies fast, a third has booked.
Number Three goes down, sight on Number Four,
this one's for my Brothers, Brothers of the Corps.
Even now at home, I remember that scene,
the four of them and a young Marine,
I would do it again, once more with pride,
to protect my Marines, the enemy has died.
By Robert W. Baird, U.S.M.C. Sniper
Nice, but chairborne ranger will be along shortlyto tell you that no REAL SHOOTER fires more than two shots at an enemy.