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

5
Sniper
Taya:
The first time Chris came home, he was really
disgusted with everything. With America, especially.
In the car on the way back to our house, we listened
to the radio. People weren’t talking about the war; life
went on as if nothing was happening in Iraq.
“People are talking about bullshit,” he said. “We’re
fighting for the country, and no one gives a shit.”
He’d been really disappointed when the war began.
He was back in Kuwait and had seen something on

---

television that was negative about the troops. He 
called
 
and said, “You know what? If that’s what they 
think,
 
....
 them. I’m out here ready to give my life and 
they’re
 
doing bullshit.”
I had to tell him there were a lot of people who cared,
not just for the troops in general, but for him. He had
me, he had friends in San Diego and Texas, and family.
But the adjustment to being home was hard. He’d
wake up punching. He’d always been jumpy, but now,
when I got up in the middle of the night, I’d stop and say
his name before I got back into bed. I had to wake him
up before coming back to bed to ensure I wasn’t hit with
his basic reflex.
One time I woke up to him grabbing my arm with
both of his hands. One hand was on the forearm and one
just slightly above my elbow. He was sound asleep and
appeared to be ready to snap my arm in half. I stayed as
still as possible and kept repeating his name, getting
louder each time so as not to startle him, but also to stop
the impending damage to my arm. Finally, he woke and
let go.
Slowly, we settled into some new habits, and
adjusted.

---