Colby Barrett attended scout sniper school because the Marines in his platoon were going. Years later, that decision carried the veteran Marine officer to northern Ukraine, where he trained beside one of the war’s most accomplished marksmen.

Barrett received his commission through Navy ROTC in 2000. From 2000 to 2004, he spent four years leading infantry and scout sniper Marines.

Joining his platoon at sniper school was a “pretty unusual” choice for a Marine officer, Barrett told Military Times. The Marine Corps has since trained its final scout snipers and shifted sniper instruction into reconnaissance and Raider units under Force Design 2030.

After leaving the Marines, Barrett built and sold a business before beginning a farming career. When a friend invited him to join an aid convoy bound for Ukraine, Barrett initially declined because he had four children in school and a harvest underway.

That night, Barrett read reports about pastors killed and churches destroyed by Russian forces. As a Christian, he wondered how he had missed what was happening, so he made the trip and continued returning to Ukraine.

Although Barrett declares that he is “not a filmmaker,” he has produced two series about the war, A Faith Under Siege and Faith in War. The latter series includes Safe Ground, which follows a Green Beret removing landmines in Ukraine.

During his visits, Barrett learned about Lektor, a special forces sniper assigned to the Department of Active Measures within Ukraine’s Defence Intelligence. In December 2024, Lektor struck a moving Russian soldier at 2,069 meters with one .338 Lapua Magnum round fired from a Sako TRG M10.

Lektor fired while standing inside a trench and positioned nearly level with his target. His first round hit, and Barrett’s time with the marksman is now expected to become a short documentary.

Barrett said Lektor remains active on missions and was reluctant to speak with the press. “I was struck by just his humility,” Barrett said after spending time with him.

Lektor, a former gamekeeper, dismissed the acclaim surrounding his shot. “Honestly, I don’t consider myself a super expert,” he told Barrett’s crew through a translated interview. “This is my job for the duration of the war.”

Barrett’s crew spent a morning at a range with Lektor’s unit, testing whether American M118 ammunition could perform like the unit’s expensive hand loaded rounds. Lektor found “practically no difference,” and the unit continued using the M118 ammunition already available to it.

Before taking the long range shot, Lektor’s team had spent two weeks along the zero line monitoring for a Russian assault under orders not to fire. When the situation changed and the team prepared to leave, he requested one final opportunity.

“So I simply begged the commander: give us a day or two for free hunting,” Lektor said. He then spotted a soldier whose equipment distinguished him from regular infantry, walking steadily along a tree line at an angle Lektor could use.

As Lektor prepared to shoot, his partner called a wind correction in the wrong direction. “I managed to shout: recalculate, something’s wrong,” Lektor said, and the team corrected the calculation within seconds while the Russian soldier remained in motion.

Barrett contrasted Lektor’s shot with British Cpl. Craig Harrison’s confirmed 2,475 meter .338 Lapua shot in Afghanistan in 2009, which followed multiple sighting rounds. Barrett said attempts involving those rounds are “really more like competition shooting,” while Lektor also questioned rankings built around such methods.

“Two shots maximum: if you didn’t hit, that’s it,” Lektor said. “That’s how you should compare.”

Drones appeared overhead within half an hour of Lektor’s shot. “The only thing that saved us was that the enemy didn’t expect a shot from such a distance,” he said.

Russian forces shelled an area about 500 meters away while Lektor’s team remained inside a dugout for an entire day before escaping. “After a shot, a simple suppressor can give you away, because it’s hot, it glows,” Lektor said.

Lektor said snipers walked approximately one kilometer to firing positions early in the war, but that distance has grown to eight kilometers. Asked whether snipers remain relevant, he acknowledged the role is “a little outdated” but said it is not finished.

“Snipers, in my opinion, are the neurosurgeons,” Lektor said, explaining that sniper teams can monitor sectors almost continuously. “Drones have to return to recharge, they get shot down.”

Near Bakhmut, Lektor’s team killed a Russian sniper and later learned from a neighboring unit that he was the fifth killed at that location. “They have absolutely no regard for the lives of their own men,” Lektor said.

Barrett described Ukraine’s concern for its people and its rapid adaptation to technology as advantages. He characterized Russia’s approach as a meat grinder: “If I just put so much meat into it, that it breaks the grinder, then we’ll win.”

Lektor’s son enlisted before he did, and they have served together for most of the war. “He’s my child, I have to be there,” Lektor said.

While Lektor was hospitalized with wounds, his son fought with another team in Chasiv Yar and was the only member of a four man group to emerge unharmed. “I [am] the first to go in and the last to come out,” Lektor said. “That’s our unwritten rule.”