Life of A Sniper

Reads: 281  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 1

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fan Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
I wrote a short, two page story of Chris Kyle, the true American sniper.

Submitted: January 26, 2015

A A A | A A A

Submitted: January 26, 2015



Life of a Sniper

In honor of Chris Kyle

The life of a sniper isn't a great one. We have to deal with harsh conditions, and, if you're married, deal with a probable divorce. We have to deal with killing people for a living. I wake up every day, thinking to myself "Will I kill or be killed?"


I woke up at 0530 for training. Regular runs, core training, but also weapons training. I am with the only 2 other snipers in the SEAL's. We practice shots over 250 yards away, attempting to hit them dead center. Most people think that aiming for the head is always a "one-shot, one-kill" sort of deal. Nope. Good marksmen aim for the chest, center of mass. That's where the major organs are. If you grazed the head, maybe you could puncture the skull and knock out a few things, but they can still live. 2 or 3 shots to the chest will make them bleed internally, externally, and an organ may be hit. I don't regret any kill I make. They're terrorists, and I'm a U.S. sniper. It's my job to kill them.


You maybe see snipers in Kevlar armor. I don't wear it. I wear a t-shirt, hunting boots, jeans and/or long pants, and my Texas Longhorns baseball cap.


I was sent out to help in Afghanistan with terrorists in a crowded public area. They were scattered on the rooftops, and so was I. Through my scope, I saw a man with a SMG on the opposite side of the hub. He was looking carefully around, as if he could get killed, (which he would) and he had 2 bodyguards behind him. I line up my crosshairs with his chest, and I pull the trigger. He falls over, dead, on the rooftop. The bodyguards are easy. Aim, fire, aim, fire, and soon they are dead as well. I do feel bad sometimes. They sometimes have families, kids, and I just killed their dad.


HQ told me I was being deported to Iraq. I called my wife and told her I was being sent out to Iraq. She said the kids missed me.


The day after the helicopter dropped me off at the U.S. training center in Iran, two guards showed me off to my room. The simple cot, washcloth, toilet. I got my schedule: Weapons Training: 0900, Special Weapons Training: 1400, Exercise: 1500, Lights Out: 2000. I got up at 0800 the next day. I ate breakfast and went proceeded to do my schedule. HQ told me that I was to go to Iraq's capitol and scan for terrorists. I was up on the rooftops when I saw my man. He was watching over the crowd. I followed his line of sight and discovered he was aiming at one of my buddies. He fired twice, once hitting my buddy in the leg, once hitting him in the arm. I moved my scope dead center. Squeezed the trigger. That bullet hit it's mark, and the man fell over dead. I leaped off the roof (at the time only being 6 feet high) and ran over to my buddy. I called in Med Evac and we got him to a hospital.




A year after Chris Kyle was done in Iraq, he and a friend decided to take a former soldier to a military range outside of Stephenville, Texas. He thought it would cheer him up. Chris and his two friends went and got their guns, Chris got out his rifle and his friends got out rifles as well. The former soldier had a flashback, and shot and killed Chris and his friend. Chris Kyle and Chad Littlefield were both killed that day, by Eddie Ray Routh. Eddie is now being held at a prison in Stephenville, waiting for his time in court.


"I really don't care what people think of me. I've got my family. I've got my friends. Yes, I have been trained to be a little more aggressive if I need to be, but I don't go around thumping people."


-Chris Kyle


Quote found at:

© Copyright 2019 Treesofgold. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:


More Fan Fiction Short Stories