Though Charles “Chuck” Mawhinney passed away in February 2024, his legacy will never be forgotten. Chuck still holds the Marine Corps’ record for the most confirmed sniper kills (and the second most of any US service member in history), having recorded 103 confirmed kills in 16 months during the Vietnam War. For the first time ever, his story is told in The Sniper by Jim Lindsay. Read on for an excerpt from The Sniper.
Captain Wiley turned to Chuck. “We’ve got a problem on our hands. I’d say half the NVA army is on its way to attack Da Nang. They need to be stopped or at least delayed.”
“I know right where they’ll cross the river,” said Chuck. There was only one place where the river was shallow enough. Chuck had been a permanent fixture for more than a year and knew the Arizona Territory better than anyone. He was like the sheriff of the whole An Hoa Basin.
“If you go down to the river,” said Wiley, “you’ll get yourself killed.”
“If I stay here,” said Chuck, “we’ll all get killed.”
“Okay.” Wiley sighed, shaking his head. “You see them and get back here on the double. Got it?”
“Got it, sir.”
Chuck hurried to the men on the perimeter between him and the river and cleared the return signals and call signs. It was getting dark; he’d need the starlight scope. So he switched guns with his spotter Carter and they set out for the river, pushing through eight-foot-tall elephant grass on the way.
They arrived at the river where the grass was short and Chuck knew the murky water was shallow. Searching for a hide on the riverbank, they found a peninsula that offered cover and protection from enemy fire. It was perfect for a sitting-position rest for their rifles situated where they could see up and down the river where the NVA would cross.
Chuck set up his starlight scope. Through the green lens, even with the darkened sky of the monsoon rains, Chuck could make out trees on the opposite bank.
Soon he observed movement straight across from their position. A single soldier appeared, chest-deep in the water, his face green in the starlight scope. He wore an NVA pith helmet and held his rifle above his head.
Chuck figured he was a scout and hoped he wouldn’t have to shoot him—it would be a catastrophe to kill the scout right in front of the enemy; they’d charge the river and find Delta 1/5 company and slaughter them.
Chuck steadied the reticle on him, mentally timing him as he crossed.
The scout came out of the river close to Chuck’s position, climbed the bank, and stood still, close enough Chuck could hear water dripping off him. He turned and looked straight at Chuck as if seeing him. A chilling look. Chuck slipped off the safety. But the man looked away and moved past him toward the elephant grass. Chuck followed him with the reticle. He was not going to let the man get between him and the company. He held his breath and increased trigger pressure, ready to dispatch him.
The man turned around and reentered the river. Chuck breathed.
Carter whispered, “Do you think they’re going to cross?”
“Yep,” Chuck whispered back. “And there’ll be a lot of ’em.”
“What we gonna do?”
“We’ll be here. And when they come, I’m gonna surprise ’em with a party. It’s Valentine’s Day, you know.”
Chuck and Carter waited in the chilling rain for an hour. Then came the NVA soldiers, single file, wading into the river, holding their rifles high. Chuck’s heart pounded as he trained the reticle on the center of the leader’s forehead, staying on it as the men kept coming.
“Get ready to haul ass,” Chuck whispered to Carter. “When I yell go, run for your life.”
“I’m ready,” Carter whispered.
Chuck squeezed off the first shot. Greenish blood blew out the back of the man’s skull, sinking him, exposing the one behind him. Chuck sank that one. The column stopped and ducked low in the water, giving Chuck perfect green head-size targets. He fired rounds moving from head to head. Sixteen kills in less than thirty seconds. Pith helmets and bodies floated down the river.
Copyright © 2023 by Jim Lindsay.
Jim Lindsay is a writer and farmer living in Corvallis, Oregon. He befriended Chuck Mawhinney while living in Oregon and knew he had to tell his story. After much research, including travelling to Vietnam, and many interviews, Jim wrote the narrative nonfiction account of Chuck’s life: The Sniper.