FORT BRAGG, N.C. (AP) — A chaplain’s assistant with the 82nd Airborne Division won the Best Warrior marksmanship competition at Fort Bragg on Saturday, posting a score of 238 out of 240 to defeat fourteen competitors that included three Army Rangers, a Special Forces candidate, and a sniper whose name this reporter was asked not to publish.
The specialist, a 22-year-old from Akron, Ohio with two years of service and no combat deployments, accepted his trophy, asked about the bus schedule, and returned to the chapel in time for a 1400 grief counseling appointment.
The Rangers he defeated are still on post.
The competition drew entrants from multiple units across the installation. By most accounts it was unremarkable until the final scores were posted. What followed, according to witnesses, was a prolonged silence and then a series of conversations that sources described variously as “tense,” “theological in nature,” and “ongoing.”
“The whole point,” said one Ranger sergeant who agreed to speak on the condition that his name not be used, “is that we are the ones who are supposed to be good at this. That is the entire premise.” He declined to elaborate further but confirmed that he was “still processing.”
The specialist, reached after the competition, said he grew up hunting in Ohio, attends every available range qualification on post, and had been using his lunch breaks for additional range time for the past four months. He said his chaplain had been supportive.
“He’d come out sometimes,” the specialist said. “He knows a lot about shooting.”
That observation has since attracted significant attention within the unit.
The chaplain, a ordained minister who has been assigned to the 82nd for three years, offered comment on his assistant’s performance in terms that several Rangers later described as “not as reassuring as they were probably intended to be.”
“God works in mysterious ways,” the chaplain told this reporter. “Mysterious, and it turns out, very accurate. 238 out of 240.” He paused. “I’ve seen worse groupings.”
When asked where, he said it was a great question.
He did not answer it.
Asked whether he had coached his assistant, the chaplain said he had prayed with him and, on occasion, discussed the mechanics of trigger reset. “A proper cheek weld is a gift,” he said. “Some people choose not to open it.”
He was asked how he knew that.
“The scripture is instructive,” he said. He then quoted Psalm 144:1 — Blessed be the Lord, my rock, who trains my hands for war and my fingers for battle — from memory, without referencing a text.
Inquiries into the chaplain’s background produced limited results.
His official biography lists undergraduate studies in theology, a master of divinity degree, and twelve years of service as a chaplain. It does not account for the several years between his undergraduate degree and his enrollment in seminary, a gap one soldier described as “surprisingly hard to ask about directly.”
Multiple soldiers, speaking independently and without coordination, used similar language when describing the chaplain. They said he moves differently. They noted that he scans rooms. A Ranger who has deployed three times said he watched the chaplain walk a perimeter during a field exercise and that the way he did it “was not something you pick up at divinity school.”
When asked about the gap in his biography, the chaplain said he had spent those years serving his country in ways that were meaningful to him.
“Then God called me somewhere else,” he said. “I’ve found the skills transfer.”
He was asked which skills.
“Patience,” he said. “Presence.” He considered for a moment. “Trigger discipline.”
He was asked if he had served in a special operations capacity.
“I’ve served in a number of capacities,” he said.
He was asked specifically about the 1st Special Forces Operational Detachment-Delta.
He looked at this reporter for a long moment.
“I’m going to pray for you,” he said. “And I mean that sincerely.”
The interview ended shortly after.
Back in the unit, the questions have not.
Several Rangers have begun attending the chaplain’s Sunday services, a development one sergeant attributed to genuine spiritual curiosity and another attributed to something he declined to name on the record. Range requests submitted in the chaplain’s name, this reporter learned, are approved with unusual speed by the installation range office, a fact that range control staff declined to comment on.
When informed of the two shots his assistant had missed, the chaplain nodded.
“Those two are between him and God,” he said. “I have my thoughts on what was being communicated.” He paused. “The other 238 were clean.”
He was asked, finally, whether he had ever competed in a marksmanship event himself.
“I’ve shot,” he said. “Whether it was competitive depends on your definition. The other party isn’t always aware of the framing.”
He excused himself. He had an appointment.
The grief counseling session currently scheduled for next week is for the Rangers.
The chaplain’s office confirmed the appointment. Attendance, a representative said, is voluntary.
Multiple sources indicated it will not be.
A note from the author: After filing this story, I observed the chaplain in the parking lot sitting in a blacked-out F-250, drinking a Monster, and listening to Slipknot at a volume inconsistent with pastoral care. A two-star general walked past, stopped, and said “good to see you, brother.” The chaplain said “you too, Jim.” The general’s name is James. I did not follow up. I am done following up. I will be attending Sunday services.
