American Sniper: The Autobiography of the Most Lethal Sniper in U. S. Military History

60 G
UNNER
B
eing a new guy, I was the 60 gunner.
As I’m sure many of you know, “60” refers to the M-60
general-purpose machine gun, a belt-fed weapon that has served
the U.S. military in a number of versions for several decades.
The M-60 was developed in the 1950s. It fires 7.62-mm bullets;
the design is so flexible that it can be used as the basis for a coaxial
machine gun in armored vehicles and helicopters, and a light, man-
carried squad-level weapon. It was a workhorse in the Vietnam
War, where grunts called it “the Pig” and occasionally cursed over
the hot barrel, which required an asbestos glove to change after
firing a few hundred rounds—not particularly convenient in combat.
The Navy made substantial improvements to the weapon over
the years, and it remains a potent gun. The newest version is so
improved, in fact, that it rates a different designation: the Navy calls
it an Mk-43 Mod 0. (Some contend it should be considered a
completely separate weapon; I’m not going to wade into that
debate.) It’s comparatively light—in the area of twenty-three
pounds—and has a relatively short barrel. It also has a rail system,
which allows scopes and the like to be attached.
Also currently in service are M-240s, M-249s, and the Mk-46,
a variant of the M-249.
As a general rule, the machine guns carried by shooters in my
platoons were always called 
60s,
even when they were actually

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something else, like the Mk-48. We used more Mk-48s as time
went on during my days in Iraq, but unless it’s significant for some
reason, I refer to any squad-level machine gun as a 60 and leave
others to sort out the fine print.
The old “Pig” nickname for the 60 survives, which leads a lot of
60 gunners to be called Pigs, or a creative variation; in our platoon,
a friend of mine named Bob got tagged with it.
It never applied to me. My nickname was “Tex,” which was one
of the more socially acceptable things people called me.
W
ith war becoming inevitable, we began patrolling the border
across Kuwait, making sure that the Iraqis weren’t going to try and
sneak across in a preemptory strike. We also began training for a
role in the upcoming fight.
That meant spending quality time in DPVs, also known as SEAL
dune buggies.
DPVs (“Desert Patrol Vehicles”) look extremely cool from the
distance, and they are far better equipped than your average ATV.
There’s a .50-caliber machine gun and an Mk-19 grenade launcher
on the front, and an M-60 on the back. Then there are the LAW
rockets, one-shot anti-tank weapons that are the spiritual
descendants of World War II bazookas and Panzerfausts. The
rockets are mounted in special brackets on the tubular upper frame.
Adding to the coolness factor is the sat radio antenna on the 
very
top of the vehicle, with a donkey-
....
radio antenna 
next to it.

---

Practically every picture you see of a DPV has the sucker flying
over a sand dune and popping a wheelie. It is an exceedingly bad-
ass image.
Unfortunately, it is just that—an image. Not a reality.
From what I understand, the DPVs were based on a design that
had been used in the Baja races. Stripped down, they were
undoubtedly mean mothers. The problem is, we didn’t drive them
stripped down. All that ordnance we carried added considerable
weight. Then there were our rucks, and the water and food you
need to survive in a desert for a few days. Extra gas. Not to
mention three fully equipped SEALs—driver, navigator, and Pig
gunner.
And, in our case, a Texas flag flying off the rear. Both my chief
and I were Texans, which made that a mandatory accessory.
The load added up quickly. The DPVs used a small Volkswagen
engine that was, in my experience, a piece of junk. It was probably
fine in a car, or maybe a dune buggy that didn’t see combat. But if
we took the vehicle out for two or three days, we’d almost always
end up working on it for the same amount of time when we got
back. Inevitably, there was some sort of bearing or bushing failing.
We had to do our own maintenance. Luckily for us, my platoon
included an ASCE-certified mechanic, and he took charge of
keeping the vehicles running.
But by far their biggest drawback was the fact that they were
two-wheel drive. This was a huge problem if the ground was in the

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least bit soft. As long as we kept going we were usually okay, but if
we stopped we ended up in trouble. We were constantly digging
them out of the sand in Kuwait.
They were a blast when they worked. Being the gunner, I had
the elevated seat behind the driver and navigator, who sat side by
side below me. Geared up with tactical ballistic goggles and a
helicopter-type helmet, I strapped myself in with a five-point
restraint and held on as we raced across the desert. We’d do
seventy miles an hour. I’d let off a few bursts with the .50-cal, then
pull the lever up on the side of the seat and swivel around toward
the back. There I’d grab the M-60 and shoot some more. If we
were simulating an attack from the side while we were moving, I
could grab the M-4 I was carrying and shoot in that direction.
Shooting the big machine gun was 
fun
!
Aiming that sucker while the vehicle was bounding up and down
across the desert was something else again. You can move the gun
up and down to keep it on target, but you’re never going to be