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Assault is a simulation, but ammo is very real

TWENTYNINE PALMS - Marine Capt. Andy Watson used the hood of the Humvee as a planning table, surrounded by about a dozen other officers and sergeants, as he laid out an assault across a rocky expanse at the base of a craggy ridge line.

The deep thump of explosions sent the Marines through the concertina wire and down into a wash for cover, as the "coyotes," or instructors, watched every move.

http://www.sbsun.com/news/ci_5104560

Andrew Silva, Staff Writer
San Bernardino County Sun
Article Launched:01/28/2007 12:00:00 AM PST

A separate team ran to the left, carrying several M-240 "gulf" medium machine guns to the top of a knob called Machine Gun Hill, about 100 feet above the developing fray.

As the troops sprawled just below the lip of the wash, the sharp crack of M-16s filled the morning air, punctuated by the "brrrrraaap, brrrraaap" of the SAWs - squad automatic weapons - a staccato cacophony of violence.

The bullets in this simulation were real, unlike an elaborate system of lasers used by the Army in parts of its training.

The morning battle is the classic live-fire training that has been going on at the Marine Corps Air Ground Combat Training Center for generations.

In the "Mojave Viper" training course, created in 2005, the combined fire exercises have become the first two weeks of the course, followed by urban-warfare training designed to prepare Marines for the unique challenges and dangers in Iraq.

Combined fire training teaches Marines how to use the variety of weapons at their disposal, from the venerable M-16 assault rifle to machine guns to mortars to air support, and do it safely for themselves and dangerously for the enemy.

The coyotes, wearing orange flak vests, use radios to paint a picture of enemy movement.

"Ineffective, sporadic fire from Trench 3," Watson said over the radio.

The squad leaders then adjusted to the situation.

Occasionally, the concussion from a rocket shot would slam across the range.

The Marines, shooting at human-sized pop-up targets, had to move from the wash to a network of trenches farther forward. Weighted down with surprisingly heavy body armor, hundreds of rounds of ammo and other gear, they ran in a clumpy, plodding motion as they stepped over the uneven rocky ground.

The coyotes were instructed by radio to take a knee when a real fragmentation grenade was lobbed into one of the trenches, followed by a thunderous "whump" that echoed off the mountains as a cloud of acrid gray smoke curled up from the trench.

As they moved into the trenches, the Marines had to figure out how to distribute their remaining ammo, and also remember to keep their heads down.

"Hey, Morales!" one coyote yelled. "Can the enemy see you?"

With thousands of rounds of live ammo sailing through the air, safety is the major concern at such exercises.

Standing in the middle of the range, Gunnery Sgt. Paul Taylor, one of the coyotes, noticed a problem behind him.

"Tell that Marine to point his weapon in a safe direction," he said. "He's pointing it right at us."

Up on Machine Gun Hill, the Marines were also being evaluated.

When the men got to the top, they set up in two-man teams to get the 7.62 mm M240G ready to protect the Marines below.

Lying on the ground, one man fired the gun as another man draped a leg over the gunner to provide stability and to help feed the ammo belts.

The four guns have to work in unison, firing short bursts, as the black barrels rapidly produce smoke and heat waves.

"Four! Pick it up!" yelled Cpl. Bill Harris, a squad leader.

The second man on Gun 3 cheered at the marksmanship of his gunner, hitting a target 300 yards away.

"That's how you do it, baby!"

Following each run, the coyotes critique themselves and then the squad leaders for their creativity, safety, awareness of the battle space, and how well they maneuvered.

Harris, who has been through the course before, said it helps the squads learn how to communicate in realistic battle situations.

But the rules and procedures are not carved in concrete.

"We don't want to get in the habit of telling them how and where to move," Watson said.