American Sniper - Boekje Pienter

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There weren’t any secure reading areas in Fallujah or Ramadi
where I fought. And the literature in the latrines and heads wouldn’t
have cut it.
(The tests are now in the area of special operations, and pertain to
things SEALs actually do. The exams are incredibly detailed, but at
least it has to do with our job.)
Becoming a chief was a little different. This test was on things SEALs
should know.
That hurdle cleared, my case had to be reviewed by a board and
then go through further administrative review by the upper echelon.
The board review process included all these chief petty officers and
master chiefs sitting down and reviewing a package of my accomplishments.
The package is supposed to be a long dossier of everything
you’ve done as a SEAL. (Minus the bar fights.)
The only thing in my package was my service record. But that had
not been updated since I graduated BUD/S. My Silver Stars and
Bronze Medals weren’t even in there.
I wasn’t crazy about becoming a chief. I was happy where I was.
As chief, I would have all sorts of administrative duties, and I wouldn’t
get as much action. Yes, it was more money for our family, but I wasn’t
thinking about that.
Chief Primo was on the review board back at our base in the
States. He was sitting next to one of the chiefs when they began reviewing
my case.
“Who the hell is this dipshit” said the other chief when he saw my
thin folder. “Who does he think he is”
“Why don’t you and I go to lunch” said Primo.