American Sniper - Boekje Pienter

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anything to help my friend, who was facing God only knew what kind
of trouble.
We’d gotten word a few days before that he was missing. I’d also
heard through the SEAL grapevine that the three guys he was with
were dead. They’d been ambushed by the Taliban in Afghanistan; surrounded
by hundreds of Taliban fighters, they fought ferociously.
Another sixteen men in a rescue party were killed when the Chinook
they were flying in was shot down. (You can and should read the details
in Marcus’s book, Lone Survivor.)
To that point, losing a friend in combat seemed if not impossible, at
least distant and unlikely. It may seem strange to say, given everything
I’d been through, but at that point we were feeling pretty sure of
ourselves. Cocky, maybe. You just get to a point where you think
you’re such a superior fighter that you can’t be hurt.
Our platoon had come through the war without any serious injuries.
In some respects, training seemed more dangerous.
There had been accidents in training. Not long before, we were doing
ship takedowns when one of our platoon members fell while going
up the side. He landed on two other guys in the boat. All three had to
go to the hospital; one of the men he landed on broke his neck.
We don’t focus on the dangers. The families, though, are a different
story. They’re always very aware of the dangers. The wives and
girlfriends often take turns sitting in the hospital with the families of
people who are injured. Inevitably, they realize they could be sitting
there for their own husband or boyfriend.