American Sniper - Boekje Pienter

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Baghdad area, the fighting had slowed down and there wasn’t yet the
huge threat of IEDs and ambushes that you saw elsewhere. Still, that
could change in an instant, and I was careful plotting my routes.
We got into our Hummers and set out. I had the front seat, next to
the driver. I’d learned enough Polish to give directions—Prawo kolei:
“right turn”—and guide him through the streets. The computer was on
my lap; to my right was a swing arm for a machine gun. We’d taken
the Hummer’s doors off to make it easier to get in and out and fire.
Besides the mounts on my side and in the back, we had a .50 in a turret
at the back.
We reached the target and hauled ass out of the truck. I was
psyched to finally get back into battle.
The Poles put me about sixth or seventh in the line to go in. That
was a bit disappointing—that far back in the train you’re unlikely to
get any action. But I wasn’t about to bitch.
The GROM hit houses essentially the way SEALs do. There are
little variations here and there: the way they come around corners, for
example, and the way they cover buddies during an operation. But for
the most part, it’s all violence of action. Surprise the target, hit them
hard and fast, take control.
One difference I particularly like is their version of flash-crash
grenades. American stun grenades explode with flash of light and an
enormous bang. The Polish grenades, on the other hand, give a series
of explosions. We called them seven-bangers. They sound like very
loud gunfire. I tried to take as many of those from them as I could
when it was time to move on.