Scout Snipers have a mantra.

I learned that mantra years ago when I was assigned to lead a platoon of these Marines. My chief scout in the platoon, a title held by the most experienced Scout Sniper, was Damon.

When we met in 2012 on Camp Lejeune, Damon was in his late twenties. His guys were at-home in the woods and with a load on their backs; they rarely complained about being dirty, tired or uncomfortable. I learned quickly that Scout Snipers were the best in the battalion, regular infantrymen who had started out carrying an assault rifle or lobbing mortars but aspired to something sleeker, freer and more elite. Before graduating the arduous Scout Sniper Basic Course to earn his new, coveted title, Damon himself had carried a machine gun on a deployment to Anbar province. I remember the front of his uniform was covered in ribbons and medals earned on combat tours. On his back were the words “Scout Sniper.” They were branded into his skin.

Similar to most competitive people, Damon didn’t like following rules, including the rule that required him to buckle the chinstrap on his Kevlar helmet. Like a kid who refuses to put on a helmet before riding his bicycle, I couldn’t get him to listen. Whenever we went to the field for training, I’d see that nylon strap dangling off his sideburns. “I know, sir,” Damon would say. Until the next time it happened, and the time after that. If only he hadn’t been so good-natured (and good at his job), I might have been more insistent that he fall in line.

But I wasn’t.

Recently, the Marine Corps decided its infantry battalions no longer need Scout Snipers. The final class graduates today from the Scout Sniper Basic Course. Soon, Scout Sniper platoons will disband and transform into so-called “scout platoons.” They will observe the enemy, but not shoot him. Some argue the loss of formally-trained precision marksmen will make infantry battalions less lethal. Others, including military brass, say the cuts will help build a lighter, more “commando-style” infantry.

Either way, they had this coming.

After two decades of continuous deployments in the War on Terror, Scout Snipers had grown arrogant and independent-minded. They flouted the strict uniform and grooming standards demanded of other Marines. They stubbornly insisted there was a difference between “field Marines” and “garrison Marines,” that their skill in the bush more than compensated for their unwillingness to conform to standards of appearance or behavior when back at headquarters. And, as the rules of engagement in Afghanistan became increasingly convoluted, Scout Snipers confronted risk-averse officers and argued for greater authority to identify targets and fire their weapons—to protect their brothers-in-arms.

In short, Scout Snipers mistakenly believed they were independent. 

And so, after today's graduation ceremony, for the first time in decades, school-trained Scout Snipers will find themselves without platoons to call home. They have at least two options to bide their time, while they wait for our country and Marine Corps to once again call upon young men with the spark and spirit to embark alone on dangerous missions: blend back into regular infantry platoons, or continue their pursuit of new challenges in reconnaissance or special operations units.

Regardless, and while they wait, Scout Snipers would do well to follow the mantra I first saw printed onto the back of a T-shirt Damon wore underneath his camouflage utilities, which read:

“Suffer Patiently; Patiently Suffer.”

John J. Waters is the author of the postwar novel River City One. He lives in Nebraska, where he was born.