I didn’t choose “The Killing School,” “The Killing School” chose me.
You see, this book literally just showed up to my house one day. I had purchased my 14-year-old son, an avid Boy Scout and outdoorsman, a subscription to “Crate Club,” a company founded by “The Killing School” author Brandon Webb. Once a month my son was to receive survival gear and tactical equipment personally curated by former military special operators. My son loved it when the spring-assisted folding knife arrived; not so much when Webb sent us his new book as the product-of-the-month. In other words, every $30-a-month subscriber to “Crate Club” was more-or-less forced to purchase his book, which is available on Amazon for $15.
I read a lot – and a lot of military history – but normally would never go for a book like “The Killing School,” which seems to be targeted more to the “Soldier of Fortune” magazine crowd. However, the subtitle to the book drew me in: “Inside the World’s Deadliest Sniper Program.” Webb, a former SEAL, led a radical reorganization of the naval special warfare sniper course in the mid-aughts. I served as a naval intelligence officer from 2004 to 2014 and, as the author emphasizes repeatedly, “a sniper is first and foremost an intelligence asset.” Having worked with some snipers during my tour in Regional Command-South in Afghanistan in 2010, I was interested in learning more about their extensive training and hoped to learn as much about the art and science from a PIG’s (professionally instructed gunman) perspective as possible.
One definition of an expert is the ability to ask excellent questions on a given topic. My hope was that after reading “The Killing School” I would know enough basic concepts and jargon to ask professionally trained snipers some really good questions. It didn’t seem like a high bar.
The first thing any prospective reader should know is that the subtitle that drew me in is highly misleading. There’s only one chapter chronicling Webb’s experience revamping the SEAL Sniper school and it’s superficial at best. The rest of the book follows the mission of four different snipers from across different services (SEAL, Army Ranger, Marines, and Canadian Army), regions (Somalia, Iraq and Afghanistan) and time (1997, 2002, 2004, 2011). The editor tries to demonstrate the common themes of any sniper mission regardless of the circumstances. That approach makes sense in theory, but in practice the narrative completely falls apart. The book jumps back-and-forth across four completely different storylines from beginning to end. It’s almost impossible to keep them all straight.
Each of the stories is interesting and intense. The skill, stamina, and nerves it takes to be a sniper is truly remarkable. That said, I certainly didn’t walk away from this book feeling as though I learned anything particularly unique or valuable, nor do I feel any better equipped to ask insightful questions to trained HOGs (hunters of gunmen). “The Killing School” isn’t a bad book and evidently lots of folks really enjoyed it. It just wasn’t the book I was hoping it would be.

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