American Sniper - Boekje Pienter

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When I finally arrived, my boys had been sent to work east of Ramadi.
Arranging transportation through the city was impossible. I was
pissed—I thought I’d gotten there too late to join in the action.
Looking for something to do until I could figure out how to get
with the rest of the platoon, I asked my command if I could sit out on
the guard towers. Insurgents had been testing the perimeters, sneaking
as close as they dared and spraying the base with their AKs.
“Sure, go ahead,” they told me.
I went out and took my sniper rifle. Almost as soon as I got into
position, I saw two guys skirting around in the distance, looking for a
spot to shoot from.
I waited until they popped up behind cover.
Bang.
I got the first one. His friend turned around and started to run.
Bang.
Got him, too.
SEVEN STORY
I was still waiting for a chance to join the rest of my platoon when the
Marine unit at the northern end of the city put in a request for snipers
to help with an overwatch from a seven-story building near their
outpost.
The head shed asked me to come up with a team. There were only
two other snipers at the base. One was recovering from wounds and
looped out on morphine; the other was a chief who appeared reluctant
to go.
I asked for the guy who was on morphine; I got the chief.