American Sniper - Boekje Pienter

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mother made it clear she didn’t know who the asshole was. It turned
out that he had just run in, only pretending to live there. So we had
one of our squirters, courtesy of the Air Force.
I suppose I shouldn’t tell that story without giving myself up.
The house where the men ran from was actually the third house
we hit that night. I’d led the boys to the first. We were all lined up outside,
getting ready to breach in, when our OIC raised his voice.
“Something doesn’t look right,” he said. “I’m not feeling this.”
I craned my head back and glanced around.
“Shit,” I admitted. “I took you all to the wrong house.”
We backed out and went to the right one.
Did I ever hear the end of that
Rhetorical question.
TWOFER
One day we were out on an op near Sunset and another street, which
came off on a T intersection. Dauber and I were up on a roof, watching
to see what the locals were up to. Dauber had just gone off the gun for
a break. As I pulled up my scope, I spotted two guys coming down the
street toward me on a moped.
The guy on the back had a backpack. As I was watching, he
dropped the backpack into a pothole.
He wasn’t dropping the mail; he was setting an IED.
“Y’all gotta watch this,” I told Dauber, who picked up his
binoculars.