SNIPING is a calculating, unemotional pursuit, frightening in its efficiency. But, in the language of those other calculating professionals, accountants, it is very cost-effective.

Estimates vary, but this astonishing statistic from the Vietnam War is generally accepted: for every 50,000 bullets fired by regular troops, there was one confirmed kill. There was one kill for every ten rounds fired from sniper rifles.

There is probably no more focused application of military force than sniping. Platoon Sergeant John Garrity of the 1st Battalion, The Prince of Wales’s Own Regiment of Yorkshire has taught on five courses and he expressed it perfectly: "A battle should always be premeditated, but sniping is even more premeditated. You hunt down a target . . . and then you kill him."

The black art of the sniper can make a huge difference whatever the circumstances. In defence, a few bullets from a pair or a pack of snipers (they should always operate as a team) can kill prestige targets, stopping an advance in its tracks. Even an armoured column can be seriously set back if a commander is picked off in his turret.

In attack, snipers scout ahead, feeding vital intelligence back to commanders and bringing indirect artillery or mortar fire down on the enemy. Radio and fire direction skills can be as important as marksmanship.

Small wonder, therefore, that infantry regiments call their snipers the "force multipliers" and that few units ever believe they have enough.

The burden of operational duties and routine training faced by today’s stretched battalions means that too few courses are organised to satisfy demand from soldiers who see sniper status as the pinnacle of their profession.

On one of their all-too-rare courses in the wind-swept hills near Sennybridge in the Brecon Beacons, 1 PWO’s 14 candidates were 12 days into six weeks of training.

One student had already been dismissed. "He wanted to a be a sniper but didn’t want to put the work in," confided Sgt Garrity, adding that only three of those remaining were expected to pass. The rest would make their way back to their units with knowledge and experience that would not be wasted, but without the coveted badge (two crossed rifles surmounted by an "s").

Not that there is shame in failure. Course leader Capt Dick Leach knows that he and his instructors – one for every two students – expect more than most soldiers can offer. "It’s both mental and physical. We want guys who are confident in their abilities, can make decisions and then stay with them. They need to be fit and robust and able to stand up to the cold and wet."

Sgt Garrity confirmed the old clich that a sniper needs to have the skills of

a poacher. "That doesn’t mean that someone from a tower block in Birmingham can’t do it. But they must have that hunting instinct."

Surprisingly, trainers rarely mention shooting skills, probably because if a soldier has been accepted for a course he is already a qualified marksman – proven on the range – capable of taking out targets at long distance. (It is a source of irritation to the instructors that journalists are prone to call any lone rifleman a sniper.)

BEST FRIEND

Nevertheless, the first two weeks of any course are spent largely on the range and in the classroom. Trainees study the theory of sniping and get to know the L96A1 bolt-action rifle that will become their best friend.

They will find the time to make scarecrow suits Wurzel Gummidge would envy. Skillfully used, these creations of rags and vegetation enable a man to blend, almost magically, with his environment.

During the next four weeks fieldcraft dominates the curriculum. Students constantly striveto improve the five skills that they must master if they are to gain the sniper badge: observation, distance-judging, map-reading, camouflage and concealment, and stalking. Eventually they must pass practical tests in all of these areas, as well as in weapon-handling and theory. Fail in one subject, and they fail the course. Few pass.

This was enough to concentrate the minds of the 1 PWO students (as it was supposed to) but the demands did not seem to affect their enthusiasm.

Moving almost imperceptibly through the water-sodden vegetation of the Brecons, the would-be snipers approached to within a few hundred metres of an observation post. On operations, they might have the luxury of killing from 900 metres, but getting to within 300 metres of their target added spice to this stalking exercise. "Train hard to fight easy" is the oft-repeated motto.

On this exercise the stalkers were, as is usually the case, spotted by binocular-equipped instructors in the observation post (OP), who brought in trackers by radio. Some students got a trainer in the cross-hairs and fired a blank round before withdrawing.

"Their spirits go up and down," said Sgt Garrity, eyeing a damp and ragged blob as it got to its feet. "If they’ve crawled 900 metres and are then spotted by an OP, they can be very unhappy. But it’s usually only five minutes before they’ve forgotten the disappointment and are asking what they did wrong."

Applying cam cream to the muzzle of his rifle, the only bit of shiny metal that could give his presence away, one private was showing youthful enthusiasm. But there was also an intriguing glimpse of another quality coming to the fore: the calculating coolness of the sniper.

What was the most important lesson he had learned? "One shot, one kill. If you don’t get that, you might as well be dead yourself." He looked at the instructor. "Isn’t that right, sir?"

The captain nodded approvingly. There was at least one potential sniper on this course.