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

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UILDING THE
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ALL
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e felt happy and grateful to have been rescued. We also felt like
total asses.
Trying to sneak into Sadr City was not going to work, and
command should have known that from the start. The bad guys
would always know we were there. So we would just have to make
the most of it.
Two days after getting our butts kicked out of the city, we came
back, this time riding in Strykers. We took over a place known as
the banana factory. This was a building four or five stories high,
filled with fruit lockers and assorted factory gear, most of it
wrecked by looters long before we got there. I’m not sure exactly
what it had to do with bananas or what the Iraqis might have done
there; all I knew at the time was that it was a good place for a
sniper hide.
Wanting a little more cover than I would have had on the roof, I
set up in the top floor. Around nine o’clock in the morning, I
realized the number of civilians walking up and down the street had
started to thin. That was always a giveaway—they spotted
something and knew they didn’t want to end up in the line of fire.
A few minutes later, with the street now deserted, an Iraqi came
out of a partially destroyed building. He was armed with an AK-47.
When he reached the street he ducked down, scouting in the

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direction of the engineers who were working down the road on the
wall, apparently trying to pick one out to target. As soon as I was
sure what he was up to, I aimed center-mass and fired.
He was forty yards away. He fell, dead.
An hour later, another guy poked his head out from behind a
wall on another part of the street. He glanced in the direction of the
T-wall, then pulled back.
It may have seemed innocent to someone else—and certainly
didn’t meet the ROEs—but I knew to watch more carefully. I’d
seen insurgents follow this same pattern now for years. They would
peek out, glance around, then disappear. I called them “peekers”—
they “peeked” out to see if anyone was watching. I’m sure they
knew they couldn’t be shot for glancing around.
I knew it, too. But I also knew that if I was patient, the guy or
whoever he was spotting for would most likely reappear. Sure
enough, the fellow reappeared a few moments later.
He had an RPG in his hand. He knelt quickly, bringing it up to
aim.
I dropped him before he could fire.
Then it became a waiting game. The rocket was valuable to
them. Sooner or later, I knew, someone would be sent to get it.
I watched. It seemed like forever. Finally, a figure came down
the street and scooped up the grenade launcher.
It was a kid. A child.
I had a clear view in my scope, but I didn’t fire. I wasn’t going

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to kill a kid, innocent or not. I’d have to wait until the savage who
put him up to it showed himself on the street.