American Sniper - Boekje Pienter

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When you’re fast-roping from a chopper with a “regular” pilot, you
may find yourself at the wrong altitude, too high for the rope to reach
the ground. At that point, it’s too late to do anything about it except
grunt or groan as you hit the ground. A lot of pilots also have trouble
holding station—staying put long enough for you to get in the right
spot on the ground.
Not so with the guys from SOAR. Right place, first time, every
time. That rope drops, it’s where it belongs.
MARCUS
The Fourth of July 2005 was a beautiful California day: perfect
weather, not a cloud in the sky. My wife and I took our son and drove
out to a friend’s house in the foothills outside of town. There we
spread a blanket and gathered in the tailgate of my Yukon to watch the
fireworks display put on at an Indian reservation in the valley. It was a
perfect spot—we could see down as the fireworks came up to us, and
the effect was spectacular.
I’ve always loved celebrating the Fourth of July. I love the symbolism,
meaning of the day, and of course the fireworks and the barbecues.
It’s just a wonderful time.
But that day, as I sat back and watched the red, white, and blue
sparkles, sadness suddenly spread over me. I fell into a deep black
hole.
“This sucks,” I muttered as the fireworks exploded.
I wasn’t critiquing the show. I had just realized that I might never
see my friend Marcus Luttrell again. I hated to be unable to do