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

R
OUGH
 T
IMES
I
’d pushed my body as far as I could before getting the operations.
Now the thing that was deteriorating was even more important than
my knees—my marriage.
This was the roughest of a bunch of rough spots. A lot of
resentment had built up between us. Ironically, we didn’t actually

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fight all that much, but there was always a lot of tension. Each of us
would put in just enough effort to be able to say we were trying—
and imply that the other person was not.
After years of being in war zones and separated from my wife, I
think in a way I’d just forgotten what it means to be in love—the
responsibilities that come with it, like truly listening and sharing. That
forgetting made it easier for me to push her away. At the same time,
an old girlfriend happened to get in contact with me. She called the
home phone first, and Taya passed the message along to me,
assuming I wasn’t the type of guy she had to worry about straying.
I laughed off the message at first, but curiosity got the best of
me. Soon my old girlfriend and I were talking and texting regularly.
Taya figured out that something was up. One night I came home
and she sat me down and laid everything out, very calmly, very
rationally—or at least as rational as you can be in that kind of
situation.
“We have to be able to trust each other,” she said at one point.
“And in the direction we’re going, that’s not going to work. It just
won’t.”
We had a long, heartfelt talk about that. I think we both cried. I
know I did. I loved my wife. I didn’t want to be separated from
her. I wasn’t interested in getting divorced.
I
know: it sounds corny as shit. A 
....
SEAL talking 
about
love?

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I’d rather get choked out a hundred times than do that in public,
let alone here for the whole world to see.
But it was real. If I’m going to be honest, I have to put it out
there.