American Sniper - Boekje Pienter

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“Look, I’m a SEAL, you’re Marines,” I told the boys. “I’m no better
than you are. The only difference between you and me is I’ve spent
more time specializing and training in this than you did. Let me help
you.”
We trained a little bit during the break. I gave some of my explosives
to one of the squad members with experience in explosives. We
did a little run-through on how to blow locks off. Until that point,
they’d had such a small amount of explosives that they’d mostly been
knocking the doors in, which, of course, took time and made them
more vulnerable.
Break time over, we started going in.
INSIDE
I took the lead.
Waiting outside the first house, I thought about the guys I saw being
pulled out.
I did not want to be one of them.
I could be, though.
It was hard to get that idea out of my mind. I also knew that I
would be in a shitload of trouble if I did get hurt—going down on the
streets was not what I was supposed to be doing, at least from an official
point of view. It was definitely right—what I felt I had to do—but it
would severely piss the top brass off.
But that would be the least of my problems if I got shot, wouldn’t
it
“Let’s do it,” I said.