American Sniper - Boekje Pienter

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guy would do. So I reacted in kind, giving a good SEAL response as I
wrestled him into the dirt and busted him up a bit.
Whatever was under his jacket broke and liquid went everywhere.
He was cussing and carrying on, but I didn’t take the time to think
about all that just then. As the fight ran out of him, I cuffed him and
looked around.
The cops, seated in their patrol car nearby, were just about
doubled over laughing. I went over to see what was up.
“That’s so-and-so,” they told me. “One of the biggest drug dealers
in the city. We wish we could have beat him like you just did.”
Apparently, Mr. Popo ignored all the signs and wandered into the
training exercise figuring he’d carry on business as usual. There are
idiots everywhere—but I guess that explains how he got into that line
of work in the first place.
HAZED AND HITCHED
For months, the United Nations Security Council pressured Iraq to
comply fully with U.N. resolutions, especially those requiring inspections
of suspected weapons of mass destruction and related sites. War
wasn’t a foregone conclusion—Saddam Hussein could have complied
and shown inspectors everything they wanted to see. But most of us
knew he wouldn’t. So when we got the word that we were shipping out
to Kuwait, we were excited. We figured we were going to war.
One way or the other, there was plenty to do out there. Besides
watching Iraq’s borders and protecting the Kurdish minority, who
Saddam had gassed and massacred in the past, U.S. troops were
enforcing no-fly zones in the north and south. Saddam was smuggling