American Sniper - Boekje Pienter

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The people sleeping in the courtyard turned out to be just a regular
extended family. Some of my guys got them situated without firing
any shots, rounding them up and moving them to a safe area. Meanwhile,
the rest of us ran in to the buildings, clearing each room as
quickly as we could. There was a main building, and then a smaller
cottage nearby. While my boys checked for weapons and bombs, anything
suspicious, I raced to the rooftop.
One of the reasons we’d selected the building was its height—the
main structure was three stories tall, and so I had a decent view of the
surrounding area.
Nothing stirred. So far, so good.
“Building secure,” the com guy radioed to the Army. “Come on in.”
We had just taken the house that would become COP Falcon, and,
once more, done so without a fight.
PETTY OFFICER/PLANNER
Our head shed had helped plan the COP Falcon operation, working
directly with the Army commanders. Once they were done, they came
to the platoon leadership and asked for our input. I got involved in the
tactical planning process more deeply than I ever had before.
I had mixed feelings. On the one hand, I had experience and
knowledge to add something useful. On the other hand, it got me doing
the kind of work I don’t like to do. It seemed a little “admin” or
bureaucratic—coat-and-tie stuff, to use a civilian workplace metaphor.
As an E6, I was one of the more senior guys in the platoon. Usually
you have a chief petty officer (E7), who’s the senior enlisted guy, and