Nobody can tell who has what it takes for anything. It has always amazed me when I see a photo of some VC or MC or MM etc winner who before the war was a bespectacled little bookkeeper nerd who but whose proved courage was a hundred times that of the big bronzed hero with the square jaw and impressive pre-war feats of strength, endurance and sporting prowess. I don’t know if this is still so, but it used to be said that SAS troops in Australia were generally smaller than the average digger. Small man’s syndrome? Or just more proof that it’s not the size of the dog in the fight that matters but the size of the fight in the dog?
Australia’s most formidable sniper in the Korean War, and quite probably in any war in which Australia fought, was Ian Robertson. He started out as a military photographer after joining the army in 1945 after WWII ended. He was made a sniper in Korea because of his marksmanship, despite being the battalion photographer which was hardly the most gung-ho role or the most likely source for a bloke who probably killed at least 150 enemy (This is documented somewhere but I can’t find it) as a sniper in a fairly short time. Robertson would worm his way into position in the middle of an open field etc (less likely to be identified than if near obvious cover) at a time in the night or day before to avoid leaving frost trails etc then camouflage himself and fire into the enemy during the day while being unable to shift his position or even move to have a feed or piss. I think he held some positions for more than one day.
Snipers were issued with a modified version of the venerable Lee-Enfield .303 rifle used by British Empire troops since the Boer War half a century before. The sniper model had a small telescopic sight and a heavy barrel, but otherwise was little different from a million others lugged by Allied infantry in two world wars.
Robertson could group 15 rounds in a space smaller than his fist at 300 metres, hit a target the size of a man’s head at 600 metres, and was confident of hitting a man from 800 to 1000 metres if conditions were right. Not that long-range marksmanship helped much in his first engagement.
http://www.smh.com.au/articles/2004/04/26/1082831474340.html
The last sentence in the quote refers to an event in which his rifle shooting skills exceeded his camera shooting skills.
It was their first week in Korea. Robertson and his first sniper partner, a South Australian called Lance Gully, were escorting their commanding officers on reconnaissance - driving ahead in a Jeep to “clear the ground”.
It meant they would draw enemy fire first, protecting the officers.
They stopped their Jeep and split up to scout on foot. Minutes later, Gully surprised 30 or more enemy soldiers hiding in a ditch. They showered him with hand grenades. He jumped in the ditch with them to avoid the blasts, then backed out of it, firing as he went. If he missed he was dead. After nine shots for nine hits, a grenade burst wounded him.
When he heard firing, Robbie ran to help. He saw a flap of his mate’s bloodied scalp hanging off his head and a crazy thought struck him: “Lance looks sharp with that Mohawk haircut.” The wounded man screamed: “There’s a million of them in there, and they’re all yours.”
Years before, an old digger had told him how to survive superior numbers at close range: Keep both eyes open, point and snap-shoot, count the shots and reload after six.
And be aggressive: give them time to think and they’ll kill you.
He ran up to the ditch, shooting anyone who opposed him, squeezed off six shots then ran back, jammed in another clip and ran at the ditch again. He did it six times, until no one was left alive.
Gully had shot nine. The rest of the jumble of bodies were down to Robertson. He could hardly believe he was alive, unhurt apart from a furrow across his wrist left by a machine-gun bullet. It was a miracle.
Officially, it was a “skirmish” at the start of what historians call the Battle of the Apple Orchard. Lance Gully returned to the line later, but the shrapnel in his body made him too sick to stay.
So the boy from Preston got a new sniping partner, a reputation and the first of a lifetime of recurring dreams.
http://www.smh.com.au/articles/2004/04/26/1082831474340.html