American Sniper - Boekje Pienter

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One of the other SEALs told him to go get it. The man disappeared,
running up the stairs somewhere.
Shit!
“Go!” I yelled. “Break the grate the fuck in.”
We rushed in and started clearing the house. The two bottom
levels were empty.
I raced up the stairs to the third floor and moved to the doorway
of a room facing the street, leaning back against the wall as the rest of
my guys stacked to follow. As I started to take a step, the whole room
blew up.
By some miracle, I hadn’t been hit, though I sure felt the force of
the blast.
“Who the fuck just threw a frag!” I yelled.
Nobody. And the room itself was empty. Someone had just fired
an RPG into the house.
Gunfire followed. We regrouped. The Iraqi who’d been inside had
clearly escaped to alert the nearby insurgents where we were. Worse,
the walls in the house proved pretty flimsy, unable to stand up to the
rocket grenades that were being fired at us. If we stayed here, we were
going to get fried.
Out of the house! Now!
The last of my guys had just cleared out of the building when the
street shook with a huge force: the insurgents had set off an IED
down the street. The blast was so powerful it knocked a few of us off
our feet. Ears ringing, we ran to another building nearby. But as we
were fixing to enter it, all hell broke loose. We got gunfire from every
direction, including above.
A shot flew into my helmet. The night went black. I was blind.