Know Good Men: Chris Kyle
Welcome to Know Good Men, a series created to share the stories, values, and wisdom of extraordinary men. Each episode dives into the journey of a man who defied the odds, carved his own path, and embodies what it means to be a man. In a world that needs strong men and leaders more than ever, these stories serve as an example of what's possible when courage, honor, and integrity take the lead.
You probably know the name. Maybe you’ve seen the movie about him. But here’s what most people get wrong about Chris Kyle - he isn't a legend because of how many men he shot. He's a legend because of how many men he brought home.
Chris wasn’t built for fame. He didn’t chase medals, headlines, or book deals. He was a protector - plain and simple. Born in Texas in 1974, Chris grew up like a lot of us did - in a small town, with calloused hands and a stubborn heart. He rode broncs, busted bones, and learned early that pain doesn’t have to stop you. It can shape you.
After 9/11, something shifted. He walked away from rodeo, enlisted in the Navy, and became a SEAL. Then he stepped into a war that would define the rest of his life.
Chris didn’t go to Iraq to rack up numbers. He went to watch over the men kicking in doors, clearing buildings, and chasing down evil in some of the most dangerous places on earth. That’s what made him lethal - not hate, not anger, but love. Love for his country. Love for his team. Love for the man beside him - who had a wife and kids back home, just like he did.
He didn’t shoot for glory. He shot to save. And he was damn good at it.
Over the course of four combat tours, Chris recorded 160 confirmed kills - possibly more. Enough to earn the nickname The Devil of Ramadi from the enemy. Enough to be feared by those who meant harm to American soldiers. But if you ask the men who served with him, they’ll tell you the truth: Chris wasn’t a killer. He was cover fire. He was their last line of defense. He was the reason they made it back.
But like a lot of good men, when Chris returned to the States, the war followed him home. The weight, the silence, the memories, the “what ifs.”
“People tell me I saved hundreds and hundreds of people. But I have to tell you: it’s not the people you saved that you remember. It’s the ones you couldn’t save. Those are the ones… that stay with you forever.”
That’s not the voice of a man obsessed with kill counts. That’s the voice of a man who carried his brothers - even after the fight was over.
So he stayed in the fight. Just a different one.
He mentored veterans. Spent time with those carrying invisible wounds. Helped them shoot again, focus again, find purpose again. He didn’t preach. He didn’t pose. He just showed up - with presence, with patience, and with everything he had left. He turned his own pain into purpose and became a bridge for others to cross back into life.
On February 2, 2013, tragedy struck. Chris Kyle was shot and killed by a veteran he was trying to help. After surviving warzones, IEDs, and rooftop firefights, he lost his life extending a hand to a brother in pain. That’s who he was. Even at the very end, he was giving, serving, protecting.
Strength doesn’t always look like domination - sometimes it looks like devotion. Real warriors don’t just fight for themselves - they fight for the man beside them. Just like protecting others isn’t just a battlefield mission - it’s a lifelong calling, and courage doesn’t end when the uniform comes off.
Chris Kyle lived with honor, with discipline, and with an unshakable sense of duty. He gave everything - and then gave more.
He didn’t have it all figured out. But he kept showing up. For his brothers. For his country. For his family. For the fight that mattered.
He did his duty until the end. That’s what made him dangerous. That’s what made him good.
Live Brave. Live Bold. Live Bearded.
Your turn, Brother. What hit home? Drop it in the comments.
