PTSD Is Brought On By Day’s Like These

(Originaly writen and published in the diaries promoted by Brandon Friedman on Vetvoice.com By Brian Bailey under the nom de plume War Junkie)



Normally I'm writing about something about the wars or a political view. Not this time. This is a very personal story about a lesson I had to learn the hard way in combat. I have purposely left out any names or areas of operation although I'm sure anyone who is in my area of operations will know most of this story and know exactly who I am. So we will try to keep the "Opsec" (operational security) rule in effect here.

A couple of months ago I arrived back in Iraq and to the Southern Baghdad Doura region. It had been a few years since I had been here and things had definitely changed. I also am just returning from the worst Afghanistan rotation, actually worst any rotation I had ever had to deal with my five tours. I fired my weapon more in this last Afghan rotation than I had in all of my other tours combined. I could do without ever having to fire another round as long as I live. So I was not thrilled to pick up a rifle and come back to this hell hole.

We arrived at Foward Operating Base "Falcon" and immediately found out that we would be would be operating and living in a safe house in the city. We packed our things and began training with the unit that we were relieving. We call this "right seat left seat rides". Upon arriving at our new safe house I noticed a guard tower that was standing all by itself right off of the highway. It was not in the best place, it was not very well built and the guard was completely exposed. I asked what the deal was with this tower and I was told it was called the "OH Jesus Tower" because if a car bomb ever rolled up to it the last thing said would be….yep you guessed it, OH JESUS! right before the soldier was turned into a light pink mist.


I was not a fan of this Guard position and after talking with my peers they were not happy with it either. We decided that when we man the guard posts we will not be using this tower. We had been there exactly 20 minutes when gunfire erupted and rounds struck the safe house. We all checked each other and the other unit did the same…or so we thought.


Later that night while they were changing guard they found him. A young soldier who was days from going home, laying in the tower contorted with a gaping hole out of the back of his head. He had a single entry wound in the front of his face and he had been gone for quite awhile.

Apparently the shooting earlier was to distract us from the acctual threat…..a sniper. I was disgusted with myself when I just said "we better go clean up if we are going to put another guy up there." So the old unit and some of our "vets" (those who had seen this before) up to clean up. That post was never manned again.


I waited about a week and went up to the roof to try to scout where he had taken the shot from. I was the only Qualified Sniper in the company so I thought I could help. I aquired a M-24 Sniper rifle and went onto the roof. I searched for days. It kind of became an obsession. In my duty position I have no reason to be doing this other than personal. I was feeling a deep rooted anger towards this sniper. I felt he had burst my comfort bubble and I wanted him dead. I had done this before and was sure I could make a shot anywhere in sight of the safe house.


All it once a shutter ran over me. I had found it. His Hide site, the place he took his shot from. Across the highway and only about 200 meters from the tower there was a window. This window had a hole in it . Wrapped around the hole were the curtains. It was perfect. A direct shot across the street. He could lay on a table in the back of the room we he could go undetected. I've got him. I just need to wait.
The next night I snuck into a hide position opposite of the guard tower with my rifle. A Remington 700 that had been converted into the army's m-24 sniper rifle. I waited. And waited and waited. Patience is key in these situations. The night went on and anyone who has been in Baghdad in January can tell you it's cold. I stayed there shaking and fighting sleep. I shook so hard I thought my back was breaking. I laid on my stomach in that position for close to ten hours. When I could not possibly stay in that position any longer and the sun had come up I decided to call it quits. Plus I had to pee pretty bad.


I was very disappointed so I went through this same routine for three or four nights. The Intel was that he was still in the area and frequenting his hide site and I was determined to get this guy. On the fifth day I gave up for a while. I was hurt. I felt like this guy was going to get away. I had been sitting in our Tactical operations center or "TOC" and a guard came over the radio "I think I see the sniper". I shot out of the TOC and grabbed a Barret 50 caliber sniper rifle which is the big brother to the M-24. I ran to the roof and got next to the guard. I popped open my scope guard and there he was. He was leaning out of a window. He had a Druganov SVD style russian made sniper rifle. I had him. I waited and got everything right. I racked the bolt on that big fifty and felt the mechanism shove the round in the chamber.

I wasn't cold or hot. I wasn't feeling anything except that adrenaline rush. I was going to kill this man. I was going to end his life. The fifty would cut him in half. I've been here before. In this situation. It's sad how natural it felt. I felt good. My thumb flipped the safety and the meat of my finger was on the trigger. I snapped in. I took a deep cleansing breath and let it out. I held it at the bottom of my breath. I could feel my heart beat. I was waiting for that perfect time between beats to squeeze. Then it happened, steady pull back. Ease it back. Feel the trigger.

Then a scream from behind me. "Hey man don't shoot It's a toy!". I let off the trigger and looked again to see that my focus was on the man so deeply I didn't notice the kid. The kid paying for the all too real plastic air soft rifle. I laid the weapon on the ground and went downstairs out the door and around where I could not be seen and got sick.
I will never let my emotions get the best of me again. Ever.