was a busy bus depot and a big school.
To the east after another major road bridge were the crowded rooftops of Al Amarah old town, a district known as Al Mahmoodia where there was the endless maze of market souks from our first foot patrol. The old town’s houses were a lot older, and it was the only place in the city that wasn’t built on a grid system. Again with a squint, some of it looked quite charming.
Behind the old town and over a third Tigris bridge as the river swung right was the OMS stronghold suburb of Aj Dayya. It was a stinking slum of a place. Al-Sadr’s most fanatical followers ran it with a rod of iron so it became very fundamentalist, as well as home to a large body of the enemy. We went there as little as we could.
Swinging to the south, over 200 metres of rooftops, was the old town’s major east–west thoroughfare, Baghdad Street. South of that was the main business district of the city. In it was the telecom centre, the police HQ and a series of oily factories. Then, the Pink Palace, and finally Tigris Street which led down to the OMS building at the bottom of it, with a pontoon footbridge that crossed the Tigris tributary halfway down it.
We struggled to see further than that, even with our high-tech viewing aids. But that was no bad thing really. About three kilometres south of Cimic, the shops and work yards began to give way to slum housing estates. Apart from Aj Dayya, the city’s southern half was its main residential area. We passed through it on our way in from Abu Naji. And it was a true dump in the very highest of Maysan traditions.
The southern half was split into four estates of varying degrees of upkeep. From west to east, they were Al Masikh, Kadeem Al Muallimin, Al Awwashah in the middle and Al Muqatil on the east. Independent from the OMS, each of the estates also had its own militia, normally formed on tribal backgrounds. At any one time, they could be at full-scale war with just us, the OMS, each other — or all of us at once. There appeared to be little rhyme or reason to any of it. They couldn’t tell you either. It was just what they did. For them, the British Army was just another rival tribe. Someone else to shoot at.
On the city’s far southern outskirts just beside Route 6 was the city prison. We had codenamed it Broadmoor. Of course, it was empty when the Paras arrived here after the war. So the NGOs moved in as it was one of the few secure locations they could find from which to defend themselves if need be. These were the people who were really going to rebuild Iraq, from the UN right the way down to various US government-sponsored organizations and Christian charities.
We had at least five different standing tasks on the roof at any given time. The most important was to keep an overview for as long as we could on any patrol that went out. If they came under fire, we would help out by trying to spot for the gunmen. And if any of them got into the shit at night, we’d be ready to pop up an illume round from a 51mm mortar tube.
The 51 is small and light enough to fit in a backpack. It has an accurate range of anything between 200 and 800 metres. We mostly used it for illume. Like all mortars, you simply put them down the tube and then pull a lever which smacks a hammer onto the round’s firing pin, igniting it. And an illume is just a bloody great lump of burning magnesium that falls slowly down to earth on a little parachute. It burns with the brightness of 10,000 candles. It’s like turning on a giant floodlight over the town for sixty seconds. If need be, it could also fire high explosive rounds.
During daylight I made sure there were always at least two sniping pairs on the roof, one in Rooftop and one in Top Sangar. Often, there were many more than that. Many of the lads used to come up in their free time as well because they enjoyed the work so much.
As with any soldier there, we had an automatic clearance to shoot people, and kill them, if we really thought it was necessary. We didn’t need to ask for permission. But I was careful to remind the boys of the British forces’ strict rules of engagement at that time.
‘Remember boys, do not open fire unless you perceive a direct threat to life. We need to catch these sods in the act of trying to kill us or someone else. That means grenade in hand about to be thrown, or AK47 brought up to aim. You know the drill.’
They didn’t really need telling. Each and every one of them was a professional and knew you don’t kill unless there is a clear military purpose. It’s a waste of a perfectly good round.
We had all our kit laid out next to us. Everything was at arm’s reach when we needed it. The place soon began to resemble a craftsman’s workshop.
‘I’m like a pig in shit up here,’ Pikey announced to Ads.
‘Yeah, you smell like one too, mate.’
The L96 took a box magazine that holds eleven rounds. So as well as the one in your rifle, we’d also lay out three to grab if they were needed. The rifle takes ball ammunition, exactly the same sort as a normal 7.62mm bullet. The only difference is it’s green spot ammunition. Green spot is the first batch hot off the presses from a new mould. If you’ve just made 50,000 rounds, the first 5,000 will be the very best, so they mark them with a little green spot. After a while with metal clunking against metal, small nicks and dents will develop in the bullets. They could minutely affect the round’s trajectory in flight. That’s why the best stuff is always held over as sniper ammunition. We never use tracer, which lights up a few metres out of the barrel to show you where you are shooting. First of all, we know where we are shooting. Second, it will betray our position.
The L96 is accurate enough to kill at 900 metres, and harass at up to 1,100 metres. The restrictions are not human nor the fault of the rifle. After that sort of distance, the 7.62mm round just hasn’t the explosive charge powerful enough to allow it to fly any further. It then starts to drop out of the sky.
The standard sight that goes on the rifle is a Schmidt and Bender. It gives from ? 3 up to ? 12 magnification, which is thrice that of the SA80 rifle sight. Its crosshairs are just two simple black lines that turn into dotted lines at its epicentre. In darkness, we clip a SIMRAD night filter on top of it. It’s half the length of the normal sight, but three times the thickness. It works by sucking up any spare ambient light into itself and turns everything you can see into different shades of light green.
One of the first things we did on the roof was make up range cards. Everybody had one. It’s the drill when you take up a static position that you’re going to stay in for a bit. They are a series of pre-calculated points of distance in the panorama around you. When a target pops up and you need to shoot quick, you can immediately refer to the range card to get a rough distance and feed those coordinates into the sight’s distance drum. It saves you having to make the distance calculation afresh every time you have a shoot on. We used a couple of laser range-finders to plot out all the major landmarks around us — the hospital and Yugoslav Bridge to the east, Vietnam Wood and the bus station to our north, RPG alley and Aj Dayya to the west, and Pontoon Bridge and Baghdad Street’s rooftops to the south.
You also need some sort of stable platform from which to fire your rifle. At the same time, the sniper should be as comfortable as possible because any physical awkwardness might make the body shake. That butt must be as tight into your shoulder as possible and the barrel must be steady. There are a series of designated sniping positions to achieve all of that. The Prone position is lying down flat on your stomach. The Hawkins position means resting the L96’s barrel on your thumb while you’re lying down. Alternatively, you could use its bipod legs, or even a tripod.
While kneeling and standing, it’s unlikely you can get the stability of aim you will need unless you then rig up a sling or a hook. The Tree hook position involves screwing a hook into a wooden surface and resting the rifle in that. Again, a lot of it is personal preference. You do whatever works best for you. On the rooftop, for most of us it normally meant wedging the longs into a decent ledge on top of the sandbag walls, with our knees or arses resting on the mattresses.
While the Number One worries about his position, the Number Two has his own viewing aids to set up. His responsibility is to get the Number One onto the target, and help him execute the shot. He has at least three sets of binoculars to hand. One is a basic set that gives him strong magnification. Another will be a SOFIE, which are thermal and pick up body heat signature. And finally a laser range-finder. Not all the kit has to be hi-tech though. Most Number Twos also like to carry small periscopes that allow them to see over parapets without exposing their heads. The best snipers’ periscopes were made in World War Two, so we still use them.
Throughout their work, One and Two talk to each other incessantly. Sharing information is crucial. You’ll discuss everything you see while spotting for a target. And once you have picked one up, Number Two will give a permanent running commentary on everything the target does from that moment onwards.
‘Target still stationary in the driver’s seat. Though he’s fidgeting now, looks like he might be about to get out the car,’ Number Two would say.
‘Yup.’
