American Sniper: The Autobiography of the Most Lethal Sniper in U. S. Military History

14
Home and Out
D
UCKING 
O
UT
I
t was late August when I left. As usual, it was almost surreal—one
day I was in the war; the next I was home. I felt bad about leaving.
I didn’t want to tell anyone about the blood pressure, or anything
else. I kept it to myself as best I could.
To be honest, it felt a little like I was ducking out on my boys,
running away because my heart was pounding funny or whatever
the hell it was doing.
Nothing that I had accomplished earlier could erase the feeling

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that I was letting my boys down.
I know it doesn’t make sense. I know I had accomplished a
huge amount. I needed a rest, but felt I shouldn’t take one. I thought
I should be stronger than was possible.
To top things off, some of the medication apparently didn’t agree
with me. Trying to help me sleep, a doctor back home in San Diego
prescribed a sleeping pill. It put me out—so much so that when I
really woke up I was on base with no recollection of working out at
home and driving myself to base. Taya told me about my workout
and I knew I had driven to work, because my truck was there.
I never took that one again. It was nasty.
Taya:
It’s taken me years to get my head around some of
this stuff. On the surface, Chris wants to just go and
have a good time. When people really need him though—
when lives are on the line—he is the most dependable
guy. He’s got a situational sense of responsibility and
caring.
I saw this in his promotions in the military: he didn’t
care. He didn’t want the responsibility of the higher
rank, even though it would mean providing better for his
family. And yet if a job needed to be done, he was there.
He will always rise to the challenge. And he’s prepared,
because he’s been thinking about it.

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It was a real dichotomy, and I don’t think a lot of
people understood it. It was even hard for me to
reconcile at times.