American Sniper - Boekje Pienter

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fallen into the muck and was completely covered with shit. He was sick
for a day, and he smelled for a week.
Every article of clothing he’d been wearing was disposed of, probably
by a hazmat unit.
Served him right.
I spent somewhere between two and three months in the villages. I
had roughly twenty confirmed kills while I was there. The action on
any particular op could be fierce; it could also be slow. There was no
predicting.
Most of the houses we took over belonged to families who at least
pretended to be neutral; I’d guess that the majority of them hated the
insurgents for causing trouble and would have been even happier than
we were to have the bad guys leave. But there were exceptions, and we
were plenty frustrated when we couldn’t do anything about it.
We went into one house and saw police uniforms. We knew instantly
that the owner was muj—the insurgents were stealing uniforms
and using them to disguise themselves in attacks.
Of course he gave us a BS line about having just gotten a job as a
part-time police officer—something he’d mysteriously forgotten to
mention when we first interrogated him.
We called it back to the Army, gave them the information, and
asked what to do.
They had no intelligence on the guy. In the end, they decided the
uniforms weren’t evidence of anything.
We were told to turn him loose. So we did.
It gave us something to think about every time we heard of an attack
by insurgents dressed as policemen, over the next few weeks.