How the hidden story of the most lethal Marine Corps sniper came out after decades of secrecy and what happened when it did
- The deadliest Marine sniper by number of confirmed kills is Chuck Mawhinney.
- He kept his service in Vietnam, including his work as a sniper, a secret for years.
The story of the deadliest sniper in the history of the US Marine Corps is one that went untold for decades as the marksman sought to leave his war behind.
The Vietnam War was a brutal conflict that left many of the service members who survived it with invisible scars. Many simply tried to move on from the war, though not all succeeded. Charles "Chuck" Mawhinney, now in his 70s, is among them.
In Vietnam, Mawhinney "figured he'd never make it home alive," according to "The Sniper," a new book by Jim Lindsay written with input from the marksman. But he did make it home, with half a dozen medals and nightmares that wouldn't go away.
Back home in Oregon, he found "there was no one who could understand what he'd been through. No one could have the faintest idea what he felt like," Mawhinney's biography explains. "So, he kept it to himself. He told no one, not even his family. No one."
Mawhinney left Vietnam for good in 1969 after 16 months in country over multiple tours. He left the Marine Corps in 1970.
After a few unsteady years of fast living and nights chasing thrills, booze, and women, Mawhinney eventually settled into a different life. He worked a quiet job with the Forest Service while living in a small town with his wife and children.
Mawhinney didn't talk about Vietnam or being a sniper, but there were hints he might have been more than met the eye.
In the mid-1980s, Mawhinney met a government trapper tasked with keeping the coyote and bobcat populations in check and on one trip out with him offered to shoot a few coyote to save time. The trapper, a man named George Gill, replied: "You really think you can hit them little bastards on the run?"
The next week when they went out trapping, Mawhinney decided to bring his .22-250 Remington rifle with him.
According to his recently released biography, Mawhinney shot a coyote in a "dead-ass run" across an open pasture a couple hundred yards away. When he shot and killed the coyote, a seemingly impressed Gill simply said: "Sum' bitch."
That particular moment, however, was not really enough on its own to raise suspicion or reveal that Mawhinney was more than just a good shot, that he was actually a decorated Marine Corps marksman and a veteran Vietnam War sniper.
The story of his achievements in Vietnam would not leak and become public knowledge until the early 1990s. And when it did, the revelation made a bit of a mess.
Shattering decades of secrecy surrounding the sniper's story
In the field, snipers tend to operate with spotters, which in Vietnam served in a supporting role scanning for targets, covering, and confirming hits and kill shots.
Mawhinney's last spotter in Vietnam was a Marine named Joseph Ward, and in 1993, more than twenty years after they served together, Ward called Mawhinney to tell him he published a book, "Dear Mom: A Sniper's Vietnam," a couple of years earlier with details of their time in combat.
The news was surprising and troubling for Mawhinney, who'd kept that part of his life a secret, but that was not all there was to Ward's unexpected call.
Ward was concerned because another book "Death From Afar" challenged his claim that Mawhinney had 101 confirmed kills, eight more than legendary Marine sniper Carlos Hathcock, who at that time was thought to hold the record. Mawhinney told Ward that the number was inaccurate.
And he told one of the authors of "Death From Afar" the same thing when he came calling a bit later. It was higher, he said, but the author, Norm Chandler, wasn't convinced.
It wasn't until 1996 Mawhinney's story was confirmed. Another author of a series of books on snipers, Peter Senich, was able to use his connections with the Marine Corps archives to access Mawhinney's kill sheets showing 103 confirmed kills, officially making him the deadliest Marine sniper.
The secret was out, but Mawhinney's story was only really coming to light in the shooting community at that point and wasn't really known far and wide. That happened later.
In 1998, almost thirty years after he left Vietnam and returned home to his native Oregon, Baker City Herald reporter Jayson Jacoby contacted him about his sniper career, and Mawhinney shared his story with the local journalist. That story, however, was picked up by the Associated Press and went nationwide.
After the article came out, Mawhinney encountered an unusual and unfamiliar scene when he went to his local bar to meet up with some friends.
"They stared at him, speechless," Lindsay wrote of Mawhinney's experience. "They wouldn't talk to him or go near him."
"Surprised and confused, Chuck wondered, Why are they acting this way?" Lindsay wrote. "Maybe they don't know what to say. Or maybe they feel guilty for not going to war? Or is it because I hid my past from them? Or are they scared of me?"
The book says that night, "for the first time in his life, Chuck drank beer alone." The chill lasted about a month, during which Mawhinney considered moving away, but it eventually thawed. His life would never be the same again though.
Slowly coming to terms with his fame, he went on to do speaking engagements, documentaries, and interviews, which drew in letters, some good, some not, and so many calls that at one point Mawhinney changed his number. Things would ultimately settle out. He even changed his phone number back.
The biography "The Sniper" is the first book to tell Mawhinney's story with his input. Lindsay said he worried about Mawhinney and how the project might impact him.
"I knew he'd kept his life in war hidden for years," Lindsay wrote. "I'd be digging up what he'd buried. Then sifting through the horror of it all. I worried how he'd deal with the memories." Mawhinney, however, insisted on going forward with the project.
"You sure? What about the nightmares?" Lindsay asked. Mawhinney replied: "What's a few bad dreams?"