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

“W
E’RE 
G
OING TO 
D
IE
”
W
e continued working with the Marines as they marched north.
Our missions would typically take us out ahead of their advance,
scouting for knots of defenders. Although we had intel that there
were some enemy soldiers in the area, there weren’t supposed to
be any large units.
By this time, we were working with the entire platoon; all sixteen
of us. We came up to a small building compound at the edge of a
town. Once we were there, we began taking fire.
The firefight quickly ratcheted up, and within a few minutes we
realized we were surrounded, our escape cut off by a force of
several hundred Iraqis.

---

I started killing a lot of Iraqis—we all were—but for everyone
we shot, four or five seemed to materialize to take their place. This
went on for hours, with the fighting stoking up, then dying down.
Most firefights in Iraq were sporadic. They might be very intense
for a few minutes, perhaps even an hour or more, but eventually the
Iraqis would withdraw. Or we would.
That didn’t happen here. The fight continued in waves all through
the night. The Iraqis knew they had us outnumbered and
surrounded and they weren’t quitting. Little by little, they started
getting closer and closer, until it became obvious that they were
going to overrun us.
We were done. We were going to die. Or worse, we’d be
captured and made prisoners. I thought about my family and how
horrible that would all be. I determined I was dying first.
I fired off more of my rounds, but now the fight was getting
closer. I was starting to think about what I would do if they charged
us. I’d use my pistol, my knife, my hands—anything.
And then I would die. I thought of Taya, and how much I loved
her. I tried not to get distracted by anything, tried concentrating on
the fight.
The Iraqis kept coming. We estimated we had five minutes to
live. I started counting it off in my head.
I hadn’t gotten very far when our company radio squeaked with
a transmission: “We’re coming up on your six.”
Friendlies were approaching our position.

---

The cavalry.
The Marines, actually. We weren’t going to die. Not in five
minutes, anyway.
Thank God!