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

12
Hard Times
H
OME
I
caught a military charter, first to Kuwait, then to the States. I was
in civilian clothes, and with my longer hair and beard, I got hassled a
bit, since no one could figure out why someone on active duty was
authorized to travel in civilian clothes.
Which, looking back, is kind of amusing.
I got off the plane in Atlanta, then had to go back through
security to continue on. It had taken me a few days to make it this
far, and when I took my boots off, I swear half a dozen people in

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line nearby keeled over. I’m not sure I’ve ever gotten through
security quite as fast.
Taya:
He would never tell me how dangerous things were,
but I got to the point where I felt like I could read him.
And when he told me that his guys were taking him out
in a convoy, just the way he told me about it made me
fear not only for them but for him. I asked a couple
questions and the careful responses told me how
dangerous his extract was going to be.
I felt very strongly that the more people I had praying
for him, the better his chances. So I asked if I could tell
his parents to pray for him.
He said yes.
Then I asked if I could tell them why, about the fact
that he was coming home and the danger in the city, and
he said no.
So, I didn’t.
I asked people for prayer, alluded to danger, and
gave no further details other than to ask them to trust
me. I knew it would be a tough pill to swallow for those
few I was asking. But I felt strongly that people needed
to pray—and at the same time that I had to adhere to my
husband’s desires about what was to be shared. I know

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it wasn’t popular, but I felt the need for prayer overrode
my need for popularity.
When he got home, it seemed to me Chris was so
stressed he was numb to everything.
It was hard for him to pinpoint how he felt about
anything. He was just wiped out and overwhelmed.
I felt sad for everything he’d been through. And I felt
terribly torn about needing him. I did need him,
tremendously. But at the same time, I had to get along
without him so much that I developed an attitude that I
didn’t need him, or at least that I shouldn’t need him.
I guess it may not make any sense to anyone else, but
I felt this strange mixture of feelings, all across the
spectrum. I was so mad at him for leaving the kids and
me on our own. I wanted him home but I was mad, too.
I was coming off months of anxiety for his safety and
frustration that he chose to keep going back. I wanted to
count on him, but I couldn’t. His Team could, and total
strangers who happened to be in the military could, but
the kids and I certainly could not.
It wasn’t his fault. He would have been in two places
at once if he could have been, but he couldn’t. But when
he had to choose, he didn’t choose us.
All the while, I loved him and I tried to support him
and show him love in every way possible. I felt five

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hundred emotions, all at the same time.
I guess I had had an undercurrent of anger that whole
deployment. We’d have conversations where we talked
and he realized something was wrong. He’d ask what
was bothering me and I’d deny it. And then finally he’d
press and I would say, “I’m mad at you for going back.
But I don’t want to hate you, and I don’t want to be
mad. I know you could be killed tomorrow. I don’t want
you to be distracted by this. I don’t want to have this
conversation.”
Now finally he was back, and all of my emotions just
exploded inside me, happiness and anger all mixed
together.