American Sniper - Boekje Pienter

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relaxing kind of way, since we knew Hell Week was about to begin. It
was like a party on the Titanic. The movies got us all psyched up, but
we knew that iceberg was out there, looming in the dark.
Once more, my imagination got me nervous. I knew at some point
an instructor was going to bust through that door with an M-60 machine
gun shooting blanks, and I was going to have to run outside and
form up on the grinder (asphalt workout area). But when
Every minute that passed added to the churning in my stomach. I
was sitting there saying to myself, “God.” Over and over. Very eloquent
and deep.
I tried to take a nap but I couldn’t sleep. Finally, someone burst in
and started shooting.
Thank God!
I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to be abused in my life. I ran
outside. The instructors were throwing flash-crashes and had the
hoses going full-blast. (Flash-crashes and flash-bang grenades give off
an intense flash and make a very loud noise when they explode, but
won’t injure you. Technically, the terms are applied to different grenades
used by the Army and Navy, but we generally use the names
interchangeably.
I was excited, ready for what some people think is the ultimate
test for SEAL trainees. But at the same time, I was thinking, What the
hell is going on Because even though I knew all about Hell Week—or
thought I did—never having experienced it, I really didn’t understand
it in my bones.
We were split up. They sent us to different stations and we began
doing push-ups, flutter kicks, star jumpers . . .