by Chris Kyle
“It was either me or them, and I wasn’t going to choose the latter,” she said. “Adrenaline was pumping, bullets were flying, and I didn’t have a choice but fight back.
“I think about March 20 at least a couple times a day, every day, and I probably will for the rest of my life,” admitted Hester. “It’s taken its toll. Every night I’m lucky if I don’t see the picture of it in my mind before I go to sleep, and then even if I don’t, I’m dreaming about what we did.”
Leigh Ann Hester says she doesn’t feel like a hero. “I did my job.”
Amen to that.
Epilogue
Pick up a rifle, a pistol, a shotgun, and you’re handling a piece of American history. What you hold is not just a finely engineered instrument, but an object that connects you to people who fought for their freedom in the backwoods of Saratoga, New York, died on the rolling hills of Gettysburg, and cornered criminals in the canyons of big cities across the country. Each gun has its own story to tell, its own connection not just to the past, but the American spirit.
Guns are a product of their time. An American long rifle, stock smooth and silky, frame lightweight, barrel long and sleek—the man who made this gun worked in the dim light of a small forge, and chose carefully the wood to use. His fingers went raw as he honed the stock, and the iron from a nearby mine stained his hands and the water he used to cool the parts as he finished.
Take the gun up now, and the smell of black powder and saltpeter sting the air. Raise the rifle to your shoulder and look into the distance. You see not a target but a whole continent of potential, of great things to come, a promising future . . . but also toil, trial, and hardship. The firearm in your hands is a tool to help you through it.
A Spencer—now here is an intricate machine, a clockwork of a gun finely thought out, each piece doing many different parts of the job as the weapon is aimed and gotten ready to fire. This is a gun of a time when imagination sprang forward, when the brain was a storm of ideas, one leading to another, then more, and others beyond that. This is a machine of pieces in a complicated dance, made to work as one; a machine no stronger than its weakest part. It is a sum far more than the simple addition of stamped metal bits and honed edges. The Spencer and its contemporaries come from a time not just of cleverness, or the birth of great industry. All of those, yes, but the weapons were also born in a time of disruption, of fear, of our better selves wrestling with weakness and temptation. Would we be one nation? Would we be several? What future would we have?
Preserving the Union was just one job the Spencer and the other repeaters, revolvers, and early machine guns were invented to solve. They had other, even bigger questions to help us answer: Would we conquer nature, or be conquered by it? If we could tame the wild, could we tame ourselves? Would we overcome our worst impulses and make a better America, then take a leading place in the world?
And once there, what of it?
The answers were positive, on the whole. But they were not given without great struggle and missteps. There were terrible detours: injustices, unnecessary violence, and criminals who found a way to use for evil what should have been, what were, instruments of progress.
In the end, those same tools helped us endure. They faced down the worst evil of our times. They stopped genocide and the enslavement of a people. The Thompson submachine gun didn’t just redeem its own reputation fighting evil in World War II; it helped all of us redeem man’s potential. After the darkest shadows spread over Europe and Asia, after insanity pushed away common sense and decency, we were able to recover. Weapons did not do it; guns were just helpers, tools as they always are. Men and women did it. But the tools that men and women made, that they carried in their arms and slung on their backs, were a necessary and important part of the struggle.
A gun today is a wonder of high-tech plastic, metal, and compounds too long and complicated to pronounce. Building on the past, gun makers have skimmed away every excess possible, until their products weigh no more than necessary for the job at hand. They pack into a tiny chamber the power of jet engines and rocket ships. They split the world into minute fractions of inches and degrees, measuring what lies before them with the precision and detail of a microscope, finding distinctions where previous generations might have found only blurs. Yet, each gun they produce carries within it the sum of the past. The powder that each cartridge contains can trace its evolution back two, three, four hundred years and more. The machine that molds the cheekpiece has roots in the wooden wheel and the forge that stood at the side of the crooked creek where long rifles were made by hand.
There are always numbers to talk about when discussing about guns. Four billion dollars’ worth of wages directly involved in manufacturing alone; ten billion overall in the industry. Nearly fourteen million hunters in America, who together spend some $38 billion a year on their pursuit. Six million—the number of guns manufactured in the U.S. in a single year.
But numbers mean nothing without people: the woman in the factory at Colt, inspecting the latest example of the gun that won the West; the guy truing a Remington 700 action in his garage workshop for a soldier going overseas; the hunter stalking deer in the Minnesota woods.
You can get a little fancy talking about guns. You can become a bit starry-eyed thinking about history. You can forget the rough spots.
That’s not fair. Real life has been messy, bloody, complicated. Not a straight line.
That doesn’t mean it hasn’t been triumphant, victorious, glorious, and wonderful along the same way. Good has triumphed over evil; we have come to terms with our darker selves. America has won its freedom, preserved it, and extended it to others. Guns are not perfect—no model in our history has come to market fully finished without flaw. Neither have we. Man and gun have improved together, sometimes with ease, more often with great struggle and sacrifice.
Our victories in the past are no guarantee for the future. What has been won can always be lost. But the past can show us the way to the future. It can give us hope: The men and women in this book did it; we can too.
When you pick up a gun, whatever model, think a little on Sergeant Murphy taking aim on the battlefield, then going home to start a new life with his young wife, busting the forest into productive land, raising kids. Think about the policemen braving the insanity that was Baby Face Nelson, taking bullets so that others might live. Think about Zip Koons, nervous and fearful in that barn in rural France, yet always doing his job, and just his job. Think of the SWAT team guy trying to put the hostage taker in his crosshairs so he can’t kill the child he’s dragging by the hair. Think about the soldier on the front line preserving freedom.
Think of yourself, and your connection to history. Ask yourself: What do you owe to the American soul you’re tied to, and how are you going to pay it forward?
Afterword
by Taya Kyle
This book has been a real journey for me. It began more than a year ago, when Chris shared with me the idea for American Gun. He was energized by the project. I loved seeing his passion grow as he dove into the research and discovered fascinating facts. And then, after his death, I was honored to be involved in carrying out his vision. Working on it, I felt deeply connected not just to American history, but to Chris himself. I hope you felt the same.
Traveling through the past with Chris in American Gun brought to life incredible turning points in history, from the streets of the old West to the battlefields of the Civil War, right up to the modern day. It strikes me that while times and guns change, the human experience remains constant. There will always be good. There will always be evil. There comes a time when honest debate, serious diplomatic efforts, and logical arguments have been exhausted and only men and women willing to take up arms against evil will suffice to save the freedom of a nation or a continent.
What makes us uniquely American is that when the chips are down and freedom is threatened, our men and women have always answered this call and have been willing to put it al
l on the line to fight battles both here and abroad. I find their stories inspirational. The world is full of people tempted to live not on their own merit, but on a path forged by others. Still others maliciously prey on the defenseless and the innocent. I feel blessed to have been reminded by this project of the humanity and strength of those who believe in giving their all to protect and serve the greater good.
Visit www.chriskylefrog.com for more on Chris and his legacy.
I had the honor of living with and loving one of these men.
Chris Kyle was a multifaceted man who was not only capable of rising up when the chips were down, but who also had personality and character to spare. His humor, passion, depth of love, and dedication, combined with his intelligence, easy-going confidence, and down-to-earth manner, came in an exciting package wrapped in a veritable ribbon of unsurpassed humility.
American Gun is just one of the many projects Chris was working on in February 2013. Please join me on www.chriskylefrog.com and be a part of the other irons Chris had in the fire.
On behalf of Chris, and from the bottom of my heart, to all the men and women who have served in law enforcement and in the United States military, thank you.
To all of you who support our military and law enforcement communities, in word and deed, Chris would be proud to know you.
Much love,
Taya
April 2013
Acknowledgments
Chris had an essence that was larger than life. His big personality, boisterous laugh, and laid-back style drew people in. He knew the meaning of true friendship. One of the best parts of working on this book was finding out just how blessed Chris was by his friends in return. This book depended on many people who without hesitation offered their time, energy, and knowledge to help fulfill Chris’s vision for American Gun.
Jim DeFelice: You jumped into the trenches with us in American Sniper. You weathered the following storm. And when the chips were down again, you rolled up your sleeves, reached out your capable hand, and helped me out of the ditch. You prove that in life, and even in death, friendship endures. This book would not be what it is today without you.
Kevin Lacz: You embody the meaning of brotherhood. That is one of the highest compliments I can give. Thank you for being you and always having our backs. Jeff Kyle, you are the brother every man should be so lucky to have. Thank you for answering my questions. We love you. Mark Hanten, we treasure your support and friendship over the years. Thank you for devoting your time and keen eye to the guns and stories in this book. Rich Emberlin, in addition to being a great friend, you have a wonderful ability to bring people together. It certainly helped with American Gun.
Doug Wicklund of the National Firearms Museum, Bob Owens, Steven Young, John Navarro, Jim Leavelle, Chris McIntyre, Jim Galvin, Monty LeClair, and Craig “Saw” Sawyer, thank you for answering our calls quickly and lending your support.
Brad Juneau, your quiet, strong, generous support of veterans is awe-inspiring. It seems your huge heart knows no limits. I am not sure I can ever adequately express the difference you and your beautiful daughter and my dear friend Melanie Luttrell have made in my life. Melanie, you seem to see my needs before even I’m aware of them. Brad, the term “available day or night” comes to mind when I think of you and this book. My last-minute requests for help were answered every time I asked, no matter what time of day or night. Your insight and comments gave me confidence and made American Gun better. I am convinced you have a special place in heaven waiting for you—but you will have to wait at least another fifty years to see it, okay?
Jay Mandel and Mel Berger of William Morris Endeavor and Bill Doyle, thank you for the time you put into getting this project off the ground with Chris. He thoroughly enjoyed working on it with you.
Peter Hubbard, editor extraordinaire, your support and enthusiasm for Chris’s books, coupled with your desire to get it right, have made all the difference. Thanks also to Sharyn Rosenblum and the entire staff at William Morrow/HarperCollins.
To my parents, Kim and Kent Studebaker, to Chris’s parents, Wayne and Deby Kyle, and to my beautiful and supportive sister, Ashley Purvis-Smith, thank you. To Karen Hanten, Jennifer Lee, Kim Essary, Deanne Hall, Sarah Dyer, Jennifer Bullinger, and Lauren Staub, thank you for your tireless, selfless support of our family.
To my amazing children, your patience and maturity far surpass your age. Your light, laughter, and love are the best reason I know of to take this bull of life by the horns and ride it all the way.
To Chris, our love fuels the fire igniting my passion to carry out your vision and work.
In closing, if you will take a couple extra minutes with me to acknowledge the life of Ryan Job, I think it may help sum up the drive and passion of the men and women both in the stories and those who helped bring American Gun full circle. Once you hear about Ryan, you will know why I need to take the time to mention him.
The photograph here shows Ryan, Chris’s SEAL teammate, living life to its fullest after being critically wounded in Ramadi, Iraq, in August 2006. Ryan is shown in October 2008 with a Winchester Model 70, .300 Weatherby mag, shooting a record-setting elk with the help of a computer-assisted scope and a close friend.
Despite having been blinded and enduring multiple surgeries, Ryan went hunting, climbed Mt. Rainier, and completed college with a 4.0 grade-point average. He married Kelly, who had been with him before his injuries. They had an eagerly anticipated baby on the way when he inexplicably and tragically lost his life following one of his multiple surgeries. He was a man of great character and strength.
Chris and Ryan were on a rooftop in Ramadi when Ryan was shot and blinded. One of the worst moments of Chris’s life came when he realized Ryan was down. Chris ran to him and radioed for the corpsman. Immediately he and his Teammates picked Ryan up and started down the stairs with him. Ryan was tough. Face shattered, spitting massive amounts of blood, he demanded that Chris and the others who came to help let him walk on his own: not because he was too proud to be carried, but because he didn’t want to take other guys out of the fight.
Ryan Job hunting elk with a Winchester Model 70 equipped with a Carl Zeiss Conquest scope and an in-line camera system.
Camp Patriot (elk hunt, 2008)
Years later I choked back tears as Ryan apologized for the time it took them to get him to safety. He felt somehow that he had let them down.
Ryan was too humble to realize how much they loved him. On the patio of a restaurant in Arizona in 2009, Ryan, with his beautiful wife, Kelly, sitting across the table and his guide dog curled at his feet, casually mentioned that while he wasn’t happy to have been blinded, he was glad that it had happened to him and not anyone else. With grit, humor, determination, and the love of an amazing woman, Ryan took what hardships he was given and made his life amazing.
That undefeatable spirit shows why Ryan, my husband, and countless others answer the call of the country they love.
But there was one other moment in particular that sums up what these men are all about. Badly injured, Ryan was flown to Germany for stabilization and then to Bethesda for multiple surgeries and a gruesome introduction to the next chapter of his life. He had every right to be bitter and perhaps even hateful toward everyone and everything around him, including the country that sent him to war. But in that time of crisis, with his head bandaged, multiple surgeries behind and in front of him, and the knowledge he would never see again, he asked someone to push his wheelchair to a flag outside. On a windy day in Maryland while on hospital grounds, Ryan Job sat still in full salute to the American flag. He held the salute for quite some time, as the wind whipped the flag and clanged the rope against the hard metal flagpole. I imagine an unspoken communication between flag and warrior, each thanking the other for what they had given them.
Patriotism is not an antiquated ideal. It beats strongly in many an American heart.
I am eternally grateful to the men and women who have such strength and character that
they are willing to go to distant lands and write a blank check to this country. Because of them, our lives here in America are full of opportunity and enduring freedom.
When you see an American flag and when you hear the National Anthem, I hope you stop and show your respect, not for the fabric flying in the wind, but for Ryan and the other men and women who like him and my husband have lived the literal meaning of the words “the land of the free and the home of the brave.”
—T.K.
Appendix
The Ten Guns, by the Numbers
AMERICAN LONG RIFLE
Other names: Kentucky Long Rifle, Pennsylvania Long Rifle, long hunter
First designed: Eighteenth century, exact date and inventor unknown
Type: Precision rifle, single-shot
Predecessor: Most likely evolved from Jaeger hunting rifles
Caliber: Varied with gun maker, but roughly .50
Primary use: Hunting, military sniping
Notable features: Sleek and long, surprisingly light, slow to load
When used: Eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, especially during and after the American Revolution
Current use: Genuine long rifles are historical antiques of considerable value. Authentic guns and replicas are used for sport and reenactments
SPENCER REPEATER
First designed by: Christopher Spencer
Type: Repeating rifle, manually cocked
Caliber: .52
Rounds: 7 metal rimfire cartridges, loaded through butt magazine
When used: American Civil War, Indian Wars
Used by: American Army soldiers, primarily cavalry and mounted infantry