Chris Kyle - American Sniper

I dedicate this book to my wife, Taya, and my kids for sticking it out with me. Thanks for still being here when I got home.

Id also like to dedicate it to the memory of my SEAL brothers Marc and Ryan, for their courageous service to our country and their undying friendship to me. I will bleed for their deaths the rest of my life.

The events that happened in this book are true, recounted from the best of my memory. The Department of Defense, including high-ranking U.S.N. personnel, reviewed the text for accuracy and sensitive material. Even though they cleared the book for publication, this does not mean they like everything they read. But this is my story, not theirs. Weve reconstructed dialogue from memory, which means that it may not be word for word. But the essence of what was said is accurate.

No classified information was used in the preparation of this book. The Pentagons Office of Security Review and the Navy requested that certain changes be made for security reasons. Those requests were all honored.

Many of the people I served with are still active-duty SEALs. Others are working in different capacities for the government, protecting our nation. All may be considered enemies by our countrys enemies, as am I. Because of that, I have not given their full identities in this book. They know who they are, and I hope they know they have my thanks.

C.K.

Late March 2003. In the area of Nasiriya, Iraq

I looked through the scope of the sniper rifle, scanning down the road of the tiny Iraqi town. Fifty yards away, a woman opened the door of a small house and stepped outside with her child.

The rest of the street was deserted. The local Iraqis had gone inside, most of them scared. A few curious souls peeked out from behind curtains, waiting. They could hear the rumble of the approaching American unit. The Marines were flooding up the road, marching north to liberate the country from Saddam Hussein.

It was my job to protect them. My platoon had taken over the building earlier in the day, sneaking into position to provide overwatchprevent the enemy from ambushing the Marines as they came through.

It didnt seem like too difficult a taskif anything, I was glad the Marines were on my side. Id seen the power of their weapons and I wouldve hated to have to fight them. The Iraq army didnt stand a chance. And, in fact, they appeared to have abandoned the area already.

The war had started roughly two weeks before. My platoon, Charlie (later Cadillac) of SEAL Team 3, helped kick it off during the early morning of March 20. We landed on al-Faw Peninsula and secured the oil terminal there so Saddam couldnt set it ablaze as he had during the First Gulf War. Now we were tasked to assist the Marines as they marched north toward Baghdad.

I was a SEAL, a Navy commando trained in special operations. SEAL stands for SEa, Air, Land, and it pretty much describes the wide ranges of places we operate. In this case, we were far inland, much farther than SEALs traditionally operated, though as the war against terror continued, this would become common. Id spent nearly three years training and learning how to become a warrior; I was ready for this fight, or at least as ready as anyone can be.

The rifle I was holding was a .300 WinMag, a bolt-action, precision sniper weapon that belonged to my platoon chief. Hed been covering the street for a while and needed a break. He showed a great deal of confidence in me by choosing me to spot him and take the gun. I was still a new guy, a newbie or rookie in the Teams. By SEAL standards, I had yet to be fully tested.

I was also not yet trained as a SEAL sniper. I wanted to be one in the worst way, but I had a long way to go. Giving me the rifle that morning was the chiefs way of testing me to see if I had the right stuff.

We were on the roof of an old rundown building at the edge of a town the Marines were going to pass through. The wind kicked dirt and papers across the battered road below us. The place smelled like a sewerthe stench of Iraq was one thing Id never get used to.

Marines are coming, said my chief as the building began to shake. Keep watching.

I looked through the scope. The only people who were moving were the woman and maybe a child or two nearby.

I watched our troops pull up. Ten young, proud Marines in uniform got out of their vehicles and gathered for a foot patrol. As the Americans organized, the woman took something from beneath her clothes, and yanked at it.

Shed set a grenade. I didnt realize it at first.

Looks yellow, I told the chief, describing what I saw as he watched himself. Its yellow, the body

Shes got a grenade, said the chief. Thats a Chinese grenade.

Shit.

Take a shot.

But

Shoot. Get the grenade. The Marines

I hesitated. Someone was trying to get the Marines on the radio, but we couldnt reach them. They were coming down the street, heading toward the woman.

Shoot! said the chief.

I pushed my finger against the trigger. The bullet leapt out. I shot. The grenade dropped. I fired again as the grenade blew up.

It was the first time Id killed anyone while I was on the sniper rifle. And the first time in Iraqand the only timeI killed anyone other than a male combatant.

It was my duty to shoot, and I dont regret it. The woman was already dead. I was just making sure she didnt take any Marines with her.

It was clear that not only did she want to kill them, but she didnt care about anybody else nearby who would have been blown up by the grenade or killed in the firefight. Children on the street, people in the houses, maybe her child

She was too blinded by evil to consider them. She just wanted Americans dead, no matter what.

My shots saved several Americans, whose lives were clearly worth more than that womans twisted soul. I can stand before God with a clear conscience about doing my job. But I truly, deeply hated the evil that woman possessed. I hate it to this day.

Savage, despicable evil. Thats what we were fighting in Iraq. Thats why a lot of people, myself included, called the enemy savages. There really was no other way to describe what we encountered there.

People ask me all the time, How many people have you killed? My standard response is, Does the answer make me less, or more, of a man?

The number is not important to me. I only wish I had killed more. Not for bragging rights, but because I believe the world is a better place without savages out there taking American lives. Everyone I shot in Iraq was trying to harm Americans or Iraqis loyal to the new government.

I had a job to do as a SEAL. I killed the enemyan enemy I saw day in and day out plotting to kill my fellow Americans. Im haunted by the enemys successes. They were few, but even a single American life is one too many lost.

I dont worry about what other people think of me. Its one of the things I most admired about my dad growing up. He didnt give a hoot what others thought. He was who he was. Its one of the qualities that has kept me most sane.

As this book goes to print, Im still a bit uncomfortable with the idea of publishing my life story. First of all, Ive always thought that if you want to know what life as a SEAL is like, you should go get your own Trident: earn our medal, the symbol of who we are. Go through our training, make the sacrifices, physical and mental. Thats the only way youll know.