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Field Ethos
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By Caleb McClain
A lone white feather twitched ever so slightly in the grass as Carlos Hathcock moved though the clearing. “Worming,” he called it—the act of slowly wriggling your body through the Vietnam jungle to avoid detection from NVA or VC troops. He had been “worming” for four days, crossing at least 1,500 yards of enemy territory on a mission. Throughout these grueling days, he had almost been stepped on multiple times by constant patrol guards from Charlie. He could have tripped several if he wanted, but he was on a mission. Hathcock watched the North Vietnamese Army general step out on his porch just 700 yards away. He was on the edge of glory.
In the movie “Platoon,” Charlie Sheen’s character said, “They come from the end of the line, most of them. Small towns you never heard of: Pulaski, Tennessee; Brandon, Mississippi; Pork Bend, Utah; Wampum, Pennsylvania… They’ve got nothing, they’re poor, they’re the unwanted, yet they’re fighting for our society and our freedom.” Such it was for Marine Corps Gunnery Sgt. Carlos Hathcock of Wynne, Arkansas, the man whose first sniper training was hunting squirrels and rabbits for the dinner table.
By the age of 17, Hathcock graduated from a Stevens Model 15A .22 LR to an M1 Garand when he enlisted in the Marine Corps. It soon proved apparent that Hathcock was proficient with any rifle. He won the 1965 Wimbledon Cup shooting championship, then shipped off to Vietnam the following year.
In the jungles, he was a terror alongside his spotter, Captain Edward “Jim” Land. The Viet Cong called Hathcock “Long Tr’ang,” which translated to “White Feather,” after the trademarked white feather he wore in his hat during almost every mission.
The duo gained notoriety after an encounter with a well-known Viet Cong leader, a woman known as Apache. After Apache tortured one Marine then released him to die a slow death, she became a top target. After days of hunting, the pair finally located her. Land called in an artillery strike on her position. As she fled the terror from above in a dead sprint towards their position, Land gave the call to shoot. Hathcock sent a round at her from his Winchester Model 70 .30-06 and dropped her, following with a second round for good measure. It was feats like this that landed him a $30,000 bounty on his head.
But that was a different day, and that did not matter today. As White Feather slowed his breathing, there was no concern for past kills or his current exhaustion and starvation; there was only the mission. He eased the trigger of his weapon and watched through his scope as the general slumped over on the porch.
Like a beehive struck with a stick, Charlie swarmed everywhere looking for the sniper. It was too late. Hathcock had already melted back into the jungle.
After 93 confirmed kills, including one at 2,500 yards, and an estimated 200 or more unconfirmed, tragedy struck. On September 16, 1969, Hathcock’s truck struck a mine in South Vietnam. Despite 40 percent of his flesh being burned, he rescued seven of the truck’s remaining occupants. His sniper days were now over.
Hathcock remained in service until he was medically discharged in 1979 during a battle with Multiple Sclerosis. He lived out the remainder of his life teaching snipers at Quantico how to remain undetectable behind enemy lines and shark fishing until his death in 1999.
The truth is that legends never die, or so I was told by the movie “The Sandlot.” To this day, an award bearing Hathcock’s name is presented by the Marines in recognition of those who contribute significantly to the use of small arms in service. And as I raise a boy in the same southern pines where Hathcock once honed his sniping prowess, I bought him nothing other than an old Stevens Model 15A .22 LR to chase squirrels with.
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A lone white feather twitched ever so slightly in the grass as Carlos Hathcock moved though the clearing. “Worming,” he called it—the act of slowly wriggling your body through the Vietnam jungle to avoid detection from NVA or VC troops. He had been “worming” for four days, crossing at least 1,500 yards of enemy territory on a mission. Throughout these grueling days, he had almost been stepped on multiple times by constant patrol guards from Charlie. He could have tripped several if he wanted, but he was on a mission. Hathcock watched the North Vietnamese Army general step out on his porch just 700 yards away. He was on the edge of glory.
In the movie “Platoon,” Charlie Sheen’s character said, “They come from the end of the line, most of them. Small towns you never heard of: Pulaski, Tennessee; Brandon, Mississippi; Pork Bend, Utah; Wampum, Pennsylvania… They’ve got nothing, they’re poor, they’re the unwanted, yet they’re fighting for our society and our freedom.” Such it was for Marine Corps Gunnery Sgt. Carlos Hathcock of Wynne, Arkansas, the man whose first sniper training was hunting squirrels and rabbits for the dinner table.
By the age of 17, Hathcock graduated from a Stevens Model 15A .22 LR to an M1 Garand when he enlisted in the Marine Corps. It soon proved apparent that Hathcock was proficient with any rifle. He won the 1965 Wimbledon Cup shooting championship, then shipped off to Vietnam the following year.
Carlos Hathcock, American Sniper
In the jungles, he was a terror alongside his spotter, Captain Edward “Jim” Land. The Viet Cong called Hathcock “Long Tr’ang,” which translated to “White Feather,” after the trademarked white feather he wore in his hat during almost every mission.
The duo gained notoriety after an encounter with a well-known Viet Cong leader, a woman known as Apache. After Apache tortured one Marine then released him to die a slow death, she became a top target. After days of hunting, the pair finally located her. Land called in an artillery strike on her position. As she fled the terror from above in a dead sprint towards their position, Land gave the call to shoot. Hathcock sent a round at her from his Winchester Model 70 .30-06 and dropped her, following with a second round for good measure. It was feats like this that landed him a $30,000 bounty on his head.
But that was a different day, and that did not matter today. As White Feather slowed his breathing, there was no concern for past kills or his current exhaustion and starvation; there was only the mission. He eased the trigger of his weapon and watched through his scope as the general slumped over on the porch.
Like a beehive struck with a stick, Charlie swarmed everywhere looking for the sniper. It was too late. Hathcock had already melted back into the jungle.
The Legend of White Feather
After 93 confirmed kills, including one at 2,500 yards, and an estimated 200 or more unconfirmed, tragedy struck. On September 16, 1969, Hathcock’s truck struck a mine in South Vietnam. Despite 40 percent of his flesh being burned, he rescued seven of the truck’s remaining occupants. His sniper days were now over.
Hathcock remained in service until he was medically discharged in 1979 during a battle with Multiple Sclerosis. He lived out the remainder of his life teaching snipers at Quantico how to remain undetectable behind enemy lines and shark fishing until his death in 1999.
The truth is that legends never die, or so I was told by the movie “The Sandlot.” To this day, an award bearing Hathcock’s name is presented by the Marines in recognition of those who contribute significantly to the use of small arms in service. And as I raise a boy in the same southern pines where Hathcock once honed his sniping prowess, I bought him nothing other than an old Stevens Model 15A .22 LR to chase squirrels with.
The post A White Feather in the Jungle appeared first on Field Ethos.
Continue reading...
