DUTTON

Publ i shed by Pengui n Group (USA) I nc .

375 Hudson St reet , New York, New York 10014, U.S.A.
Pengui n Group (Canada), 90 Egl i nt on Avenue East , Sui t e 700, Toront o, Ont ari o M4P 2Y3, Canada (a di vi si on of Pearson Pengui n Canada I nc .); Pengui n Books Lt d, 80
St rand, London WC2R 0RL, Engl and; Pengui n I rel and, 25 St St ephens Green, Dubl i n 2, I rel and (a di vi si on of Pengui n Books Lt d); Pengui n Group (Aust ral i a), 250 Camberwel l
Road, Camberwel l , Vi c t ori a 3124, Aust ral i a (a di vi si on of Pearson Aust ral i a Group Pt y Lt d); Pengui n Books I ndi a Pvt Lt d, 11 Communi t y Cent re, Panc hsheel Park, New Del hi -
110 017, I ndi a; Pengui n Group (NZ), 67 Apol l o Dri ve, Rosedal e, Auc kl and 0632, New Zeal and (a di vi si on of Pearson New Zeal and Lt d); Pengui n Books (Sout h Af ri c a) (Pt y) Lt d, 24
St urdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, Sout h Af ri c a
Pengui n Books Lt d, Regi st ered Of f i c es: 80 St rand, London WC2R 0RL, Engl and
Publ i shed by Dut t on, a member of Pengui n Group (USA) I nc .
Copyri ght (c ) 2012 by Mark Owen
Al l ri ght s reserved. No part of t hi s book may be reproduc ed, sc anned, or di st ri but ed i n any pri nt ed or el ec t roni c f orm wi t hout permi ssi on. Pl ease do not part i c i pat e i n
or enc ourage pi rac y of c opyri ght ed mat eri al s i n vi ol at i on of t he aut hors ri ght s. Purc hase onl y aut hori z ed edi t i ons.
REGI STERED TRADEMARKMARCA REGI STRADA
LI BRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGI NG-I N-PUBLI CATI ON DATA
has been appl i ed f or.
I SBN 978-0-525-95372-2
eBook ISBN 978-1-101-61130-2
Designed by Spring Hoteling
Phot ographs are f rom t he aut hors c ol l ec t i on.
Maps by Travi s Ri ght meyer
The publ i sher ac knowl edges t hat t he name Mark Owen i s a pseudonym.
Whi l e t he aut hor has made every ef f ort t o provi de ac c urat e t el ephone numbers, I nt ernet addresses, and ot her c ont ac t i nf ormat i on at t he t i me of publ i c at i on, nei t her
t he publ i sher nor t he aut hor assumes any responsi bi l i t y f or errors, or f or c hanges t hat oc c ur af t er publ i c at i on. Furt her, t he publ i sher does not have any c ont rol over and does
not assume any responsi bi l i t y f or aut hor or t hi rd-part y websi t es or t hei r c ont ent .
The only easy day was yesterday.
Navy SEAL Phi l osophy
Long live the Brotherhood.

CONTENTS
TI TLE PAGE
COPYRI GHT
AUTHORS NOTE
PROLOGUE: Chalk One
CHAPTER 1: Green Team
CHAPTER 2: Top Five/Bot t om Five
CHAPTER 3: The Second Deck
CHAPTER 4: Delt a
CHAPTER 5: Point Man
CHAPTER 6: Maersk Alabama
CHAPTER 7: The Long War
CHAPTER 8: Goat Trails
CHAPTER 9: Somet hing Special in D.C.
CHAPTER 10: The Pacer
CHAPTER 11: Killing Time
CHAPTER 12: Go Day
CHAPTER 13: Infil
CHAPTER 14: Khalid
CHAPTER 15: Third Deck
CHAPTER 16: Geronimo
CHAPTER 17: Exfil
CHAPTER 18: Confirmat ion
CHAPTER 19: Touch t he Magic
EPI LOGUE
CONFI RMI NG SOURCES
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
PHOTO I NSERT

AUTHORS NOTE
When I was in junior high school in Alaska, we were assigned a book report . We had t o
pick a book we liked. Moving down t he row of books, I st umbled upon Men in Green Faces by
former SEAL Gene Went z. The novel chronicled missions in Viet nams Mekong Delt a. Full of
ambushes and firefight s, it cent ered on t he hunt for a rogue Nort h Viet namese colonel.
From page one, I knew I want ed t o be a SEAL. The more I read, t he more I want ed t o see if
I could measure up.
In t he surf of t he Pacific Ocean during t raining, I found ot her men just like me: men who
feared failure and were driven t o be t he best . I was privileged t o serve wit h and be inspired by
t hese men every day. Working alongside t hem made me a bet t er person.
Aft er t hirt een consecut ive combat deployment s, my war is over. This book is closure for
t hat part of my life. Before leaving, I want ed t o t ry and explain what it was t hat mot ivat ed us
t hrough t he brut al SEAL t raining course and t hrough a decade of const ant deployment s.
We are not superheroes, but we all share a common bond in serving somet hing great er
t han ourselves. It is a brot herhood t hat t ies us t oget her, and t hat bond is what allows us t o
willingly walk int o harms way t oget her.
This is t he st ory of a group of ext raordinary men who I was lucky enough t o serve
alongside as a SEAL from 1998 t o 2012. Ive changed t he names of all t he charact ers, including
myself, t o prot ect our ident it ies, and t his book does not include det ails of any ongoing missions.
Ive also t aken great pains t o prot ect t he t act ics, t echniques, and procedures used by t he
t eams as t hey wage a daily bat t le against t errorist s and insurgent s around t he world. If you are
looking for secret s, t his is not your book.
Alt hough I am writ ing t his book in an effort t o accurat ely describe real-world event s as
t hey occurred, it is import ant t o me t hat no classified informat ion is released. Wit h t he
assist ance of my publisher, I hired a former Special Operat ions at t orney t o review t he
manuscript t o ensure t hat it was free from ment ion of forbidden t opics and t hat it cannot be
used by sophist icat ed enemies as a source of sensit ive informat ion t o compromise or harm t he
Unit ed St at es. I am confident t hat t he t eam t hat has worked wit h me on t his book has bot h
maint ained and promot ed t he securit y int erest s of t he Unit ed St at es.
When I refer t o ot her milit ary or government organizat ions, act ivit ies, or agencies, I do so in
t he int erest of cont inuit y and normally only if anot her publicat ion or official unclassified
government document has already ment ioned t hat organizat ions part icipat ion in t he mission
Im describing.
I somet imes refer t o cert ain publicly recognized senior milit ary leaders by t heir t rue names,
only when it is clear t hat t here are no operat ional securit y issues involved. In all ot her cases, I
have int ent ionally depersonalized t he st ories t o maint ain t he anonymit y of t he individuals
involved. I do not describe any t echnologies t hat would compromise t he securit y of t he Unit ed
St at es.
All of t he mat erial cont ained wit hin t his book is derived from unclassified publicat ions and
sources; not hing writ t en here is int ended t o confirm or deny, officially or unofficially, any event s
described or t he act ivit ies of any individual, government , or agency. In an effort t o prot ect t he
nat ure of specific operat ions, I somet imes generalize dat es, t imes, and order of event s. None of
t hese work-arounds affect t he accuracy of my recollect ions or my descript ion of how event s
unfolded. The operat ions discussed in t his book have been writ t en about in numerous ot her
civilian and government publicat ions and are available in open sources t o t he general public.
These confirming open-source cit at ions are print ed in t he Confirming Sources list at t he end of
t his book.
The event s depict ed in No Easy Day are based on my own memory. Conversat ions have
been reconst ruct ed from my recollect ions. War is chaot ic, but I have done my best t o ensure
t he st ories in t his book are accurat e. If t here are inaccuracies in it , t he responsibilit y is mine.
This book present s my views and does not represent t he views of t he Unit ed St at es Navy, t he
U.S. Depart ment of Defense, or anyone else.
In spit e of t he deliberat e measures I have undert aken t o prot ect t he nat ional securit y of
t he Unit ed St at es and t he operat ional securit y of t he men and women who cont inue t o fight
around t he world, I believe No Easy Day t o be an accurat e port rayal of t he event s it describes
and an honest port rayal of life in t he SEAL t eams and t he brot herhood t hat exist s among us.
While writ t en in t he first person, my experiences are universal, and Im no bet t er or worse t han
any man Ive served wit h. It was a long, hard decision t o writ e t his book, and some in t he
communit y will look down on me for doing so.
However, it is t ime t o set t he record st raight about one of t he most import ant missions in
U.S. milit ary hist ory. Lost in t he media coverage of t he Bin Laden raid is why and how t he
mission was successful. This book will finally give credit t o t hose who earned it . The mission
was a t eam effort , from t he int elligence analyst s who found Osama bin Laden t o t he helicopt er
pilot s who flew us t o Abbot t abad t o t he men who assault ed t he compound. No one man or
woman was more import ant t han anot her.
No Easy Day is t he st ory of t he guys, t he human t oll we pay, and t he sacrifices we make
t o do t his dirt y job. This book is about a brot herhood t hat exist ed long before I joined and will
be around long aft er I am gone.
My hope is one day a young man in junior high school will read it and become a SEAL, or at
least live a life bigger t han him. If t hat happens, t he book is a success.
Mark Owen
June 22, 2012,
Virginia Beach, Virginia
PROLOGUE
Chalk One
At one minut e out , t he Black Hawk crew chief slid t he door open.
I could just make him out his night vision goggles covering his eyesholding up one
finger. I glanced around and saw my SEAL t eammat es calmly passing t he sign t hroughout t he
helicopt er.
The roar of t he engine filled t he cabin, and it was now impossible t o hear anyt hing ot her
t han t he Black Hawks rot ors beat ing t he air. The wind buffet ed me as I leaned out , scanning
t he ground below, hoping t o st eal a glance of t he cit y of Abbot t abad.
An hour and a half before, wed boarded our t wo MH-60 Black Hawks and lift ed off int o a
moonless night . It was only a short flight from our base in Jalalabad, Afghanist an, t o t he border
wit h Pakist an, and from t here anot her hour t o t he t arget we had been st udying on sat ellit e
images for weeks.
The cabin was pit ch-black except for t he light s from t he cockpit . I had been wedged
against t he left door wit h no room t o st ret ch out . Wed st ripped t he helicopt er of it s seat s t o
save on weight , so we eit her sat on t he floor or on small camp chairs purchased at a local
sport ing goods st ore before we left .
Now perched on t he edge of t he cabin, I st ret ched my legs out t he door t rying t o get t he
blood flowing. My legs were numb and cramped. Crowded int o t he cabin around me and in t he
second helicopt er were t went y-t hree of my t eammat es from t he Naval Special Warfare
Development Group, or DEVGRU. I had operat ed wit h t hese men dozens of t imes before.
Some I had known t en years or more. I t rust ed each one complet ely.
Five minut es ago, t he whole cabin had come alive. We pulled on our helmet s and checked
our radios and t hen made one final check of our weapons. I was wearing sixt y pounds of gear,
each gram met iculously chosen for a specific purpose, my load refined and calibrat ed over a
dozen years and hundreds of similar missions.
This t eam had been handpicked, assembled of t he most experienced men in our
squadron. Over t he last fort y-eight hours, as go day loomed and t hen was post poned and t hen
loomed again, we had each checked and rechecked our equipment so we were more t han
ready for t his night .
This was a mission Id dreamt about since I wat ched t he Sept ember 11, 2001, at t acks on a
TV in my barracks room in Okinawa. I was just back from t raining and got int o my room in t ime
t o see t he second plane crash int o t he World Trade Cent er. I couldnt t urn away as t he fireball
shot out of t he opposit e side of t he building and smoke billowed out of t he t ower.
Like millions of Americans back home, I st ood t here wat ching in disbelief wit h a hopeless
feeling in t he pit of my st omach. I st ayed t ransfixed t o t he screen for t he rest of t he day as my
mind t ried t o make sense of what Id just wit nessed. One plane crash could be an accident .
The unfolding news coverage confirmed what I had known t he moment t he second plane
ent ered t he TV shot . A second plane was an at t ack, no doubt . No way t hat happened by
accident .
On Sept ember 11, 2001, I was on my first deployment as a SEAL, and as Osama bin
Ladens name was ment ioned I figured my unit would get t he call t o go t o Afghanist an t he next
day. For t he previous year and a half, wed been t raining t o deploy. Wed t rained in Thailand,
t he Philippines, East Timor, and Aust ralia over t he last few mont hs. As I wat ched t he at t acks, I
longed t o be out of Okinawa and in t he mount ains of Afghanist an, chasing al Qaeda fight ers
and serving up a lit t le payback.
We never got t he call.
I was frust rat ed. I hadnt t rained so hard and for so long t o become a SEAL only t o wat ch
t he war on TV. Of course, I wasnt about t o let my family and friends in on my frust rat ion. They
were writ ing asking me if I was going t o Afghanist an. To t hem, I was a SEAL and it was only
logical t hat we would be immediat ely deployed t o Afghanist an.
I remember t hat I sent an e-mail t o my girlfriend at t he t ime t rying t o make light of a bad
sit uat ion. We were t alking about t he end of t his deployment and making plans for my t ime at
home before t he next deployment .
Ive got about a mont h left , I wrot e. Ill be home soon, unless I have t o kill Bin Laden first .
It was t he kind of joke you heard a lot back t hen.
Now, as t he Black Hawks flew t oward our t arget , I t hought back over t he last t en years.
Ever since t he at t acks, everyone in my line of work had dreamt of being involved in a mission
like t his. The al Qaeda leader personified everyt hing we were fight ing against . Hed inspired
men t o fly planes int o buildings filled wit h innocent civilians. That kind of fanat icism is scary,
and as I wat ched t he t owers crumble and saw report s of at t acks in Washingt on, D.C., and
Pennsylvania, I knew we were at war, and not a war of our choosing. A lot of brave men had
sacrificed for years t o fight t he war, never knowing if we would get a chance t o be involved in a
mission like t he one about t o begin.
A decade aft er t hat event and wit h eight years of chasing and killing al Qaedas leaders,
we were minut es away from fast -roping int o Bin Ladens compound.
Grabbing t he rope at t ached t o t he Black Hawks fuselage, I could feel t he blood finally
ret urning t o my t oes. The sniper next t o me slid int o place wit h one leg hanging out side and
one leg inside t he helicopt er so t hat t here was more room in t he already-t ight doorway. The
barrel of his weapon was scanning for t arget s in t he compound. His job was t o cover t he sout h
side of t he compound as t he assault t eam fast -roped int o t he court yard and split up t o our
assignment s.
Just over a day ago, none of us had believed Washingt on would approve t he mission. But
aft er weeks of wait ing, we were now less t han a minut e from t he compound. The int elligence
said our t arget would be t here; I figured he was, but not hing would surprise me. Wed t hought
we were close a couple t imes before.
I had spent a week in 2007 chasing rumors of Bin Laden. We had received report s t hat he
was coming back int o Afghanist an from Pakist an for a final st and. A source said hed seen a
man in flowing whit e robes in t he mount ains. Aft er weeks of prep, it was ult imat ely a wild-
goose chase. This t ime felt different . Before we left , t he CIA analyst who was t he main force
behind t racking t he t arget t o Abbot t abad said she was one hundred percent cert ain he was
t here. I hoped she was right , but my experience t old me t o reserve judgment unt il t he mission
was over.
It didnt mat t er now. We were seconds away from t he house and whoever was living in
t here was about t o have a bad night .
We had complet ed similar assault s count less t imes before. For t he last t en years, I had
deployed t o Iraq, Afghanist an, and t o t he Horn of Africa. We had been part of t he mission t o
rescue Richard Phillips, t he capt ain of t he cont ainer ship Maersk Alabama, from t hree Somali
pirat es in 2009, and I had operat ed in Pakist an before. Tact ically, t onight was no different from
a hundred ot her operat ions; hist orically, I hoped it was going t o be very different .
As soon as I gripped t he rope, a calm came over me. Everyone on t he mission had heard
t hat one-minut e call a t housand t imes before and at t his point it was no different t han any
ot her operat ion. From t he door of t he helicopt er, I st art ed t o make out landmarks I recognized
from st udying sat ellit e images of t he area during our weeks of t raining. I wasnt clipped int o t he
helicopt er wit h a safet y line, so my t eammat e Walt had a hand on a nylon loop on t he back of
my body armor. Everybody was crowding t oward t he door right behind me ready t o follow me
down. On t he right side, my t eammat es had a good visual of t he t rail helicopt er wit h Chalk Two
heading t o it s landing zone.
As soon as we cleared t he sout heast ern wall, our helicopt er flared out and st art ed t o
hover near our predet ermined insert point . Looking down t hirt y feet int o t he compound, I could
see laundry whipping on a clot hesline. Rugs hung out t o dry were bat t ered by dust and dirt
from t he rot ors. Trash swirled around t he yard, and in a nearby animal pen, goat s and cows
t hrashed around, st art led by t he helicopt er.
Focused on t he ground, I could see we were st ill over t he guest house. As t he helicopt er
rocked, I could t ell t he pilot was having some t rouble get t ing t he aircraft int o posit ion. We
veered bet ween t he roof of t he guest house and t he wall of t he compound. Glancing over at
t he crew chief, I could see he had his radio microphone pressed against his mout h, passing
direct ions t o t he pilot .
The helicopt er was bucking as it t ried t o find enough air t o set a st able hover and hold
st at ion. The wobbling wasnt violent , but I could t ell it wasnt planned. The pilot was fight ing
t he cont rols t rying t o correct it . Somet hing wasnt right . The pilot s had done t his kind of
mission so many t imes t hat for t hem put t ing a helicopt er over a t arget was like parking a car.
St aring int o t he compound, I considered t hrowing t he rope just so we could get out of t he
unst able bird. I knew it was a risk, but get t ing on t he ground was imperat ive. There wasnt
anyt hing I could do st uck in t he door of t he helicopt er. All I needed was a clear spot t o t hrow
t he rope.
But t he clear spot never came.
Were going around. Were going around, I heard over t he radio. That meant t he original
plan t o fast -rope int o t he compound was now off. We were going t o circle around t o t he sout h,
land, and assault from out side t he wall. It would add precious t ime t o t he assault and allow
anyone inside t he compound more t ime t o arm t hemselves.
My heart sank.
Up unt il I heard t he go-around call, everyt hing was going as planned. We had evaded t he
Pakist ani radar and ant iaircraft missiles on t he way in and arrived undet ect ed. Now, t he insert
was already going t o shit . We had rehearsed t his cont ingency, but it was plan B. If our t arget
was really inside, surprise was t he key and it was quickly slipping away.
As t he helicopt er at t empt ed t o climb out of it s unst able hover, it t ook a violent right t urn,
spinning ninet y degrees. I could feel t he t ail kick t o t he left . It caught me by surprise and I
immediat ely st ruggled t o find a handhold inside t he cabin t o keep from sliding out t he door.
I could feel my but t coming off t he floor, and for a second I could feel a panic rising in my
chest . I let go of t he rope and st art ed t o lean back int o t he cabin, but my t eammat es were all
crowded in t he door. There was lit t le room for me t o scoot back. I could feel Walt s grip t ight en
on my body armor as t he helicopt er st art ed t o drop. Walt s ot her hand held t he snipers gear. I
leaned back as far as I could. Walt was pract ically lying on t op of me t o keep me inside.
Holy fuck, were going in, I t hought .
The violent t urn put my door in t he front as t he helicopt er st art ed t o slide sideways. I could
see t he wall of t he court yard coming up at us. Overhead, t he engines, which had been
humming, now seemed t o scream as t hey t ried t o beat t he air int o submission t o st ay aloft .
The t ail rot or had barely missed hit t ing t he guest house as t he helicopt er slid t o t he left .
We had joked before t he mission t hat our helicopt er had t he lowest chance of crashing
because so many of us had already survived previous helicopt er crashes. Wed been sure if a
helicopt er was going t o crash it would be t he one carrying Chalk Two.
Thousands of man-hours, maybe even millions, had been spent leading t he Unit ed St at es
t o t his moment , and t he mission was about t o go way off t rack before we even had a chance
t o get our feet on t he ground.
I t ried t o kick my legs up and wiggle deeper int o t he cabin. If t he helicopt er hit on it s side, it
might roll, t rapping my legs under t he fuselage. Leaning back as far as I could, I pulled my legs
int o my chest . Next t o me, t he sniper t ried t o clear his legs from t he door, but it was t oo
crowded. There was not hing we could do but hope t he helicopt er didnt roll and chop off his
exposed leg.
Everyt hing slowed down. I t ried t o push t he t hought s of being crushed out of my mind.
Wit h every second, t he ground got closer and closer. I felt my whole body t ense up, ready for
t he inevit able impact .
CHAPTER 1
Green Team
I could feel t he sweat dripping down my back, soaking my shirt , as I slowly moved down
t he corridor of t he kill house at our t raining sit e in Mississippi.
It was 2004, seven years before I would ride a Black Hawk int o Abbot t abad, Pakist an, on
one of t he most hist oric special operat ions raids in hist ory. I was in t he select ion and t raining
course for SEAL Team Six, somet imes called by it s full name: Unit ed St at es Naval Special
Warfare Development Group, abbreviat ed DEVGRU. The nine-mont h select ion course was
known as Green Team, and it was t he one t hing t hat st ood bet ween me and t he ot her
candidat es moving up t o t he elit e DEVGRU.
My heart was beat ing fast , and I had t o blink t he perspirat ion out of my eyes as I followed
my t eammat e t o t he door. My breat hing was labored and ragged as I t ried t o force any
ext raneous t hought s from my head. I was nervous and edgy, and t hat was how mist akes were
made. I needed t o focus, but no mat t er what was in t he room we were about t o ent er, it paled
compared t o t he cadre of inst ruct ors wat ching on t he cat walk.
All of t he inst ruct ors were senior combat vet erans from DEVGRU. Handpicked t o t rain new
operat ors, t hey held my fut ure in t heir hands.
Just get t o lunch, I mut t ered t o myself.
It was t he only way I could cont rol my anxiet y. In 1998, Id made it t hrough Basic
Underwat er Demolit ion/SEAL, or BUD/S, by focusing on just making it t o t he next meal. It didnt
mat t er if I couldnt feel my arms as we hoist ed logs over our heads or if t he cold surf soaked me
t o t he core. It wasnt going t o last forever. There is a saying: How do you eat an elephant ?
The answer is simple: One bit e at a t ime. Only my bit es were separat ed by meals: Make it t o
breakfast , t rain hard unt il lunch, and focus unt il dinner. Repeat .
In 2004, I was already a SEAL, but making it t o DEVGRU would be t he pinnacle of my
career. As t he Navys count er-t errorism unit , DEVGRU did host age rescue missions, t racked
war criminals, and, since t he at t acks on Sept ember 11, hunt ed and killed al Qaeda fight ers in
Afghanist an and Iraq.
But not hing about making it t hrough Green Team was easy. It was no longer good enough
for me t o be a SEAL. During Green Team, just passing was failing and second place was t he
first loser. The point was not t o meet t he minimums, but crush t hem. Success in Green Team
was about managing st ress and performing at your peak levelall t he t ime.
Before each t raining day, we complet ed a punishing physical t raining or PT workout of long
runs, push-ups, pull-ups, and anyt hing else t he sadist ic inst ruct ors could cook up. We pushed
cars, and on mult iple occasions we pushed buses. When we got t o t he kill house, a purpose-
built ballist ically safe building made up of hallways and rooms used t o pract ice close-quart ers
bat t le, or CQB, our muscles were already t ired and sore. The point of doing t he PT was t o
make us physically t ired t o simulat e t he st ress of a real mission before t hey t est ed us in a
demanding t act ical environment .
I didnt have t ime t o st eal a glimpse at t he inst ruct ors as we moved down t he hall. This
was t he first day of t raining, and everybodys nerves were running high. We had st art ed CQB
t raining aft er complet ing a full mont hs wort h of high-alt it ude parachut e t raining in Arizona.
The pressure t o perform had been evident t here t oo, but once we got t o Mississippi it was
rat chet ed up.
I shook t he nagging aches and pains from my mind and concent rat ed on t he door in front
of me. It was made of t hin plywood wit h no doorknob. The door was bat t ered and broken from
t eams t hat went before us, and my t eammat e easily pushed it open wit h his gloved hand. We
paused for a second at t he t hreshold, scanning for t arget s before we ent ered.
The room was square, wit h rough walls made of old railroad t ies t o absorb t he live rounds. I
could hear my t eammat e ent er behind me as I swept my rifle in an arc searching for a t arget .
Not hing. The room was empt y.
Moving, my t eammat e called as he st epped int o t he room t o clear around a corner.
Inst inct ually, I slid int o posit ion t o cover him.
As soon as I st art ed t o move, I could hear murmuring above me in t he raft ers. We couldnt
st op, but I knew one of us had just made a mist ake. For a second, my st ress level spiked, but I
quickly pushed it out of my mind. There was no t ime t o worry about mist akes. There were more
rooms t o clear. I couldnt worry about t he mist akes I made in t he first room.
Back in t he hall, we ent ered t he next room. I spot t ed t wo t arget s as I ent ered. To t he right ,
I saw t he silhouet t e of a crook holding a small revolver. He was wearing a sweat shirt and
looked like a 1970s t hug from t he movies. To t he left , t here was a silhouet t e of a woman
holding a purse.
I snapped a shot off at t he crook seconds aft er st epping int o t he room. The round hit
cent er mass. I moved t oward it , shoot ing a few more rounds.
Clear, I said, lowering my muzzle.
Clear, my t eammat e answered.
Safe em and let em hang, one of t he inst ruct ors said from above.
No less t han six inst ruct ors were looking down at us from a cat walk t hat spidered out over
t he kill house. They could walk safely along t he walkways wat ching as we cleared t he different
rooms, judging our performance and wat ching for any t iny mist akes.
I put my rifle on safe and let it hang against me by it s sling. I wiped beads of sweat out of
my eyes wit h my sleeve. My heart was st ill pounding, even t hough we were finished. The
t raining scenarios were pret t y st raight forward. We all knew how t o clear rooms. It was t he
process of clearing a room perfect ly under t he simulat ed st ress of combat t hat would set us
apart .
There was no margin of error, and at t hat moment I wasnt sure exact ly what we had done
wrong.
Where was your move call? Tom, one of t he inst ruct ors, said t o me from t he cat walk.
I didnt answer. I just nodded. I was embarrassed and disappoint ed. Id forgot t en t o t ell my
t eammat e t o move in t he first room, which was a safet y violat ion.
Tom was one of t he best inst ruct ors in t he course. I could always pick him out because he
had a huge head. It was massive, like it housed a giant brain. It was his one dist inct physical
t rait ; ot herwise youd miss him because he was mellow and never seemed t o get upset . We all
respect ed him because he was bot h firm and fair. When you made a mist ake in front of Tom, it
felt like you let him down. His disappoint ment wit h me was plast ered across his face.
No screaming.
No yelling.
Just t he look.
From above, I saw him shoot me t he Dude, really? Did you just do that? look.
I want ed t o speak or at least t ry and explain, but I knew t hey didnt want t o hear it . If t hey
said you were wrong, you were wrong. St anding below t hem in t he empt y room, t here was no
arguing or explaining.
OK, check, I said, defenseless and furious wit h myself for making such a basic error.
We need bet t er t han t hat , Tom said. Beat it . Do your ladder climb.
Snat ching up my rifle, I jogged out of t he kill house and sprint ed t o a rope ladder hanging
on a t ree about t hree hundred yards away. Climbing up t he ladder, rung by rung, I felt heavier. It
wasnt my sweat -soaked shirt or t he sixt y pounds of body armor and gear st rapped t o my
chest .
It was my fear of failure. Ive never failed anyt hing in my SEAL career.
When I got t o San Diego six years earlier for BUD/S, I never doubt ed Id make it . A lot of my
fellow BUD/S candidat es who arrived wit h me eit her got cut or quit . Some of t hem couldnt
keep up wit h t he brut al beach runs, or t hey panicked underwat er during SCUBA t raining.
Like a lot of ot her BUD/S candidat es, I knew I want ed t o become a SEAL when I was
t hirt een. I read every book I could find about t he SEALs, followed t he news during Desert St orm
for any ment ion of t hem, and daydreamed about ambushes and coming up over t he beach on
a combat mission. I want ed t o do all of t he t hings Id read in t he books while growing up.
Aft er complet ing my degree at a small college in California, I went t o BUD/S and earned my
SEAL t rident in 1998. Aft er a six-mont h deployment t hroughout t he Pacific Rim, and a combat
deployment t o Iraq in 2003-2004, I was ready for somet hing new. Id learned about DEVGRU
during my first t wo deployment s. DEVGRU was a collect ion of t he best t he SEAL communit y
had t o offer, and I knew I would never be able t o live wit h myself if I didnt t ry.
The Navys count er-t errorism unit was born in t he aft ermat h of Operat ion Eagle Claw, t he
failed 1980 mission ordered by President Jimmy Cart er t o rescue fift y-t wo Americans held
capt ive at t he U.S. Embassy in Tehran, Iran.
Aft er t he mission, t he Navy ident ified a need for a force capable of successfully execut ing
t hose kind of specialized missions and t apped Richard Marcinko t o develop a marit ime
count er-t errorism unit called SEAL Team Six. The t eam pract iced host age rescue as well as
infilt rat ing enemy count ries, ships, naval bases, and oil rigs. Over t ime, missions branched out
t o count er-proliferat ion of weapons of mass dest ruct ion.
At t he t ime Marcinko est ablished t he command, t here were only t wo SEAL t eams, so six
was chosen t o make t he Soviet s t hink t he Navy had more t eams. In 1987, SEAL Team Six
became DEVGRU.
The unit st art ed wit h sevent y-five operat ors, handpicked by Marcinko. Now, all of t he
members of t he unit are handpicked from ot her SEAL t eams and Explosive Ordnance Disposal
unit s. The unit has grown significant ly and filled out wit h numerous t eams of operat ors as well
as support st aff, but t he concept remains t he same.
The unit is part of t he Joint Special Operat ions Command, called JSOC. DEVGRU works
closely wit h ot her Nat ional Missions Force t eams like t he Armys Delt a Force.
One of DEVGRUs first missions was in 1983 during Operat ion Urgent Fury. Members of
t he unit rescued Grenadas governor-general, Paul Scoon, during t he U.S.-led invasion of t he
small Caribbean nat ion aft er a Communist t akeover. Scoon was facing execut ion.
Six years lat er in 1989, DEVGRU joined wit h Delt a Force t o capt ure Manuel Noriega during
t he invasion of Panama.
DEVGRU operat ors were part of t he U.S.-led mission t o capt ure Somali warlord Mohamed
Farrah Aidid in Oct ober 1993, which t urned int o t he Bat t le of Mogadishu. The fight was
chronicled in Mark Bowdens book Black Hawk Down.
In 1998, DEVGRU operat ors t racked Bosnian war criminals, including Radislav Krst ic, t he
Bosnian general who was lat er indict ed for his role in t he Srebrenica massacre of 1995.
Since Sept ember 11, 2001, DEVGRU operat ors had been on a st eady cycle of
deployment s t o Iraq and Afghanist an, t arget ing al Qaeda and Taliban commanders. The
command got t he immediat e call t o insert int o Afghanist an aft er Sept ember 11, 2001, and
operat ors in t he command were responsible for some of t he high-profile missions like t he
Jessica Lynch rescue in Iraq in 2003. It was missions like t hese and t he fact t hat t hey are t he
first t o get t he call t hat mot ivat ed me.
Before you can screen for Green Team, you need t o be a SEAL, and most candidat es
t ypically have t wo deployment s. The deployment s usually mean t he candidat e has t he
necessary skill level and experience, which was needed t o complet e t he select ion course.
As I climbed t he rungs on t he ladder in t he Mississippi heat , I couldnt help but t hink about
how Id almost failed t he t hree-day screening process before even st art ing Green Team.
The dat es for t he screening fell during my unit s land warfare t raining. I was at Camp
Pendlet on, California, hiding under a t ree, wat ching Marines build a base camp. It was 2003 and
we were a week int o our reconnaissance t raining block when I got orders t o report back t o San
Diego t o st art t he t hree-day screening process. If I was lucky enough t o get select ed, I would
begin t he nine-mont h Green Team t raining course. If I was lucky enough t o pass, I would join
t he ranks of DEVGRU.
I was t he only one in my plat oon going. A buddy in a sist er plat oon was also screening. As
we drove down t oget her, we bot h were washing t he green paint off our faces. St ill dressed in
our camouflage uniforms, we smelled of body odor and bug spray aft er spending days in t he
field. My st omach hurt from eat ing not hing but Meals, Ready-To-Eat , and I t ried t o hydrat e,
sucking down wat er as we drove. I was not in t he best physical shape, and I knew t he first part
of t he screening was a fit ness t est .
The next morning, we were out at t he beach. The sun was just peeking over t he horizon
as I finished t he four-mile t imed run. Aft er a short break, I joined about t wo dozen ot her
candidat es in a line on a concret e pad. A breeze blew off t he Pacific, and t here was a lit t le chill
in t he air from t he night before. At any ot her t ime, it would have been a pret t y morning on t he
beach. I was already t ired from t he run, and we st ill had push-ups, sit -ups, and pull-ups before
t he swim.
I easily passed t he push-up t est , despit e t he inst ruct ors nit picking each rep. Every
exercise had t o be perfect , or it didnt count . Rolling ont o my back, I prepared for t he sit -up t est .
I was really t ired as I knocked out t he first sit -ups.
Being out in t he field hadnt helped my st amina. I got int o a good rhyt hm at first , but it was
broken when t he inst ruct or st opped next t o me and st art ed repeat ing some of t he numbers of
my reps.
Ten, t en, t en, he said. Ten, eleven, t welve, t welve.
My t echnique wasnt t ext book. He was repeat ing t he numbers t hat werent perfect . Every
t ime he repeat ed a number, I was more ashamed. I was get t ing t ired but I wasnt get t ing any
closer t o meet ing t he t est st andard.
One minut e.
I was way behind as t he call came and was quickly running out of t ime. If I failed t he sit -
ups, I was done. Doubt st art ed t o creep int o my mind. I st art ed t o come up wit h bullshit
excuses like I was ill-prepared because I had been t raining wit h my unit , rat her t han preparing
for t his t est .
Thirt y seconds.
Wit h half a minut e t o go I was t en short of t he minimum number. Next t o me, anot her guy
had already passed t hat number and he was knocking out even more as fast as he could go.
My mind was spinning and I couldnt believe I was failing. Forcing t he poisonous t hought s from
my mind, I focused on t echnique. Soon, I was making up ground.
Ten seconds.
I was close. My st omach ached. My breat h came in gasps. My fat igue was replaced wit h
fear. I was in shock. I couldnt fail. There was no way I could go back t o my plat oon knowing I
couldnt even pass t he physical fit ness t est .
Five, four, t hree
As t he inst ruct ors called t ime, I finished my last sit -up. I squeaked by, passing t he minimum
by t wo measly sit -ups. I was spent , but I st ill had t o do t he pull-ups. Walking t o t he bar, t he
near-failure scared some adrenaline int o me and I was able t o pass t he pull-ups wit hout issue.
The final event was a swim in San Diego Bay. The wat er was calm. We had wet suit s on,
so I couldnt feel t he chill of t he wat er. I st art ed st rong. One of t he guys screening had been a
Naval Academy swimmer and was well ahead of me, but I was in second place. I kept pulling,
but it felt like I was going slow. It felt like swimming on a t readmill.
When I got t o t he finish line, t he inst ruct ors t old me Id failed. It t urned out everyone except
for t he academy swimmer failed. That caught t he at t ent ion of t he inst ruct ors and t hey
checked t he t ide schedule. Aft er a quick review of t he current s, word came down t hat we had
been swimming against t he t ide.
Were going t o do t he whole t est again t omorrow, t hey t old us, t o my relief.
Part of t he challenge was t hat youre t ired by t he t ime you get t o each exercise. So we
couldnt just repeat t he swim. I knew I would have t o do t he sit -ups again and in t he back of my
mind, I knew I wasnt going t o get my abs in shape in one night .
It was a ment al t hing.
I went in t here ready t o kick ass t he next day, and I willed my way t o a passing score. I
knew my scores werent great , and I was concerned about how t heyd be received during t he
oral board t he next day. Just because I passed t he minimum scores didnt mean anyt hing in
t he big scheme of t hings. This was a select ion course for t he best of t he best , and I was not
showing t he inst ruct ors t hat I was prepared.
I arrived early for my int erview in my dress blue uniform wit h all of my ribbons and awards.
Id got t en a haircut t he day before and made sure my shave was close. I looked like a diagram
out of a uniform t ext book. It was one of t he rare t imes I knew a haircut , shined shoes, and a
pressed uniform really mat t ered for a SEAL. At least it gave t he inst ruct ors one less t hing t o
pick on during t he board.
Inside t he conference room was a long t able at t he far end. Seat ed at t he t able were a
half dozen mast er chiefs, a psychologist who had t est ed us t he second day of screening, and
a career counselor. A single chair sat in front of t he board. I walked int o t he room and t ook a
seat .
For t he next fort y-five minut es, t hey t ook t urns lobbing quest ions at me. Id never been
under fire like t his. I didnt know t hat before I arrived, t he board had already t alked t o my
plat oon chief and commander at SEAL Team Five. They had an idea of who I was, but t his was
t he only t ime t heyd get a chance t o size me up in person.
To t his day, I cant remember who sat on my oral board. To me, t hey were just high-
ranking operat ors who held my fut ure in t heir hands. It was up t o me t o convince t hem t o
select me.
But my poor physical fit ness score wasnt helping my case.
Do you know who you are screening for? one of t he chiefs said. Do you know what
youre t rying out t o do? This is t he ent ry-level t est . Youre get t ing ready for t he big leagues
here and t his is what you show?
I didnt hesit at e. I knew t heyd hit me on t his and I only had one play.
I t ake full responsibilit y, I said. I am embarrassed t o sit here and show you t hat PT score.
All I can t ell you is if I show up, if I am select ed, t hose scores are never going t o happen again. I
am not going t o give you any excuses. That is on me. It is on nobody but myself.
I searched t heir faces t o see if t hey believed me. There was no indicat ion if t hey did or not .
All I got were blank st ares. The barrage of quest ions cont inued, designed t o keep me off
balance. They want ed t o see if I could keep my composure. If I cant sit in a chair and answer
quest ions, t hen what am I going t o do under fire? If t hey want ed t o make me uncomfort able,
t hey succeeded, but most ly I was embarrassed. These were people who I looked up t o and
aspired t o be like and here I was, a young SEAL who had barely passed his sit -up t est .
At t he end of t he board, t hey dismissed me.
Well let you know wit hin t he next six mont hs if you have been select ed.
As I left t he room I figured I had a fift y-fift y chance of making it .
Back at Camp Pendlet on, I smeared fresh green paint on my face and snuck back int o t he
field t o join my t eammat es for t he last few days of t he t raining mission.
How did it go? my chief asked when I linked up wit h t he t eam.
I dont know, I said.
I wasnt t elling anyone about t he fit ness t est . I knew t here was a real chance I had failed.
I was in t he middle of my SEAL Team Five deployment t o Iraq when I finally got t he news.
My plat oon chief called me int o our operat ions cent er.
You screened posit ive, he said. Youll be get t ing orders t o Green Team when we get
back.
I was shocked because in my mind I had been preparing myself for t he worst . I had it in my
head I would have t o re-screen. Now t hat I had been select ed, I was commit t ed t o not making
t he same mist akes. I knew I would show up at Green Team prepared.
CHAPTER 2
Top Five/Bottom Five
My lungs burned and my legs ached as I ran back from t he ladder in t he humid Mississippi
summer. The pain was less physical and more about pride. I was screwing up. The pressure I
was put t ing on myself was worse t han anyt hing Id hear from t he inst ruct ors. The mist ake Id
made in t he kill house was a result of losing focus, and I knew t hat was unaccept able. I knew I
wouldnt be in t he course much longer if I couldnt block out t he pressure and focus on t he
t asks at hand. Candidat es could get cut from t he course on any given day.
I ran back and st ood out side t he house. I could hear t he crack of rifle fire inside as ot her
t eams cleared rooms. We had a few minut es t o cat ch our breat h before going back in for yet
anot her it erat ion.
Tom had climbed down from t he cat walk and was out side when I got back. He pulled me
aside.
Hey, brot her, he said. It was exact ly t he right move in t here. You covered your buddy,
but t here was no moving call.
Check, I said.
I know back in your old command you guys did t hings your way and maybe you didnt
need t he call t here, Tom said. But here, we want t ext book CQB and we want t he verbage we
asked for. If you are lucky t o complet e t his t raining and go t o an assault squadron on t he
second deck, t rust me, you wont be doing basic CQB. But here, under pressure, you need t o
prove t o us t hat you can do even t he most basic CQB. We have a st andard, and you cant
move wit hout a moving call.
The second deck was where all of t he assault squadrons worked at t he command back
in Virginia Beach. During our first days in Green Team, we were t old we were not allowed t o go
up t o t he second floor of t he building. It was off-limit s unt il graduat ion.
So, get t ing t o t he second deck was t he goal. It was t he prize.
I nodded and slid a new magazine int o my rifle.
That night , I grabbed a cold beer and spread my cleaning kit out on t he t able. I t ook a long
pull and savored t he fact I survived, anot her bit e out of t he proverbial elephant . I was one st ep
closer t o t he second deck.
During our CQB block of t raining, we lived in t wo large houses locat ed near t he shoot ing
ranges and kill house. They were basically massive barracks beat t o hell aft er hundreds of
SEAL and Special Forces t raining rot at ions. The rooms were filled wit h bunk beds, but I spent
most of my t ime downst airs in t he lounge area. There was a pool t able and a 1980s big-screen
TV usually t uned t o a sport ing event . It was more background noise as guys cleaned t heir
weapons or shot pool and t ried t o unwind.
The SEAL communit y is small. We all know each ot her or have at least heard of one
anot her. From t he day you st ep ont o t he beach t o st art BUD/S, you are building a reput at ion.
Everybody t alks about reput at ion from day one.
Saw you on t he ladder t oday, Charlie said t o me as he racked up t he balls for anot her
game of pool. What did you fuck up?
Charlie was big in bot h st at ure and wit . He was a huge man wit h hands t he size of shovels
and giant shoulders. St anding about six foot four inches t all, he weighed in at t wo hundred and
t hirt y pounds. His mout h was as big as his body. He kept up a st eady st ream of smack t alk, day
and night .
We called him t he Bully.
A former deck seaman, Charlie grew up in t he Midwest and joined t he Navy aft er
graduat ion. He spent about a year chipping paint and brawling wit h his crewmat es in t he fleet
before going t o BUD/S. The way Charlie t old it , being out in t he fleet was like being in a gang.
He t old st ories about fight s on t he ship and in port or on cruise. He hat ed being on t he ships
and want ed not hing more t han t o become a SEAL.
Charlie was one of t he t op candidat es in t he class. He was consist ent ly smart and
aggressive, and it didnt hurt t hat his last job before Green Team was as a CQB inst ruct or for
t he East Coast SEAL Teams. The kill houses came nat urally t o him. And he was a crack shot
t o boot .
No move call, I said.
Keep it up and youll be back in San Diego working on t hat t an, he said. At least youll be
ready for next years calendar.
SEALs are based in t wo placesSan Diego, California, and Virginia Beach, Virginia. A
healt hy rivalry exist ed bet ween t he t wo groups, based most ly on geography and
demographics. The difference bet ween t he t eams is minimal. Teams on bot h coast s did t he
same missions and had t he same skill set . But West Coast SEALs have t he reput at ion of being
laid-back surfers and t he East Coast guys are t hought of as Carhart t -wearing rednecks.
I was a West Coast SEAL, so hanging wit h Charlie meant a st eady diet of digs, especially
about t he calendar.
Right , Mr. May? Charlie said, snickering.
I didnt appear in it , but some of t he t eammat es put out a calendar a few years back for
charit y. The pict ures were cringe-wort hy shot s of guys wit hout shirt s on t he beach or near t he
gray-hulled ships in San Diego. The move may have helped feed t he poor or fight cancer, but it
brought on years of mocking from t he East Coast t eams.
No one want s t o make a calendar of past y whit e East Coast guys, I said. I am sorry if we
have our shirt s off enjoying t he sunny San Diego weat her.
It was a bat t le t hat would never end.
Well set t le t his on t he range t omorrow, I said.
My fallback was always shoot ing. I didnt have t he wit t o go up against Charlie or t he ot her
smoot h t alkers in Green Team. It was widely known t hat my jokes were always weak. It was
bet t er t o beat a quick ret reat and t hen do my best t o out shoot t hose guys t he next day. I was
an above-average shot , since Id pret t y much grown up wit h a gun in my hand during my
childhood in Alaska.
My parent s never let me play wit h t oy guns because by t he t ime I was finished wit h
element ary school I was carrying a .22 rifle. From an early age, I knew t he responsibilit y of
handling a firearm. For our family, a gun was a t ool.
You need t o respect t he gun and respect what it can do, my fat her t old me.
He t aught me how t o shoot and be safe wit h my rifle. But t hat didnt mean I didnt learn
t hat lesson t he hard way before it complet ely st uck wit h me.
Aft er one hunt ing t rip wit h my fat her, it was freezing out , t oo cold t o st and out side and
clear our rifles. I joined t he rest of my family in t he house. My mot her was in t he kit chen
preparing dinner. My sist ers were at t he kit chen t able playing a game.
I pulled off my gloves and st art ed t o clear my rifle. My fat her had t aught me how t o clear
t he chamber several t imes, emphasizing safet y. First , t ake out t he magazine and t hen work
t he act ion t o eject any rounds before looking in t he chamber and t hen dry firing in a safe
direct ion int o t he ground.
On t his part icular occasion, I wasnt paying at t ent ion and I must have chambered a round,
and t hen I slid t he magazine out . Point ing t he gun t oward t he floor, I t ook it off of safe and
squeezed t he t rigger. The bullet exploded from t he barrel and buried it self int o t he floor in front
of t he wood st ove. I hadnt been paying at t ent ion because I was t rying t o warm up. The boom
echoed t hroughout t he house.
I froze.
My heart was beat ing so hard it hurt my chest . My hands were shaking. I looked at my
fat her, who was looking at t he t iny hole in t he floor. My mot her and sist ers came running over
t o see what happened.
You OK? my fat her asked.
I st ammered a yes and checked t he rifle t o make sure it was clear. Wit h my hands st ill
shaking, I put t he rifle down.
Im sorry, I said. I forgot t o check t he chamber.
I was more embarrassed t han anyt hing else. I knew how t o handle my rifle, but Id got t en
careless because I was more focused on get t ing warm. My fat her cleared his own rifle and
hung up his coat . He wasnt angry. He just want ed t o make sure I knew what happened.
Kneeling down next t o me wit h my rifle, we went t hrough t he st eps again.
What did you do wrong? Talk me t hrough it , he said.
Take t he magazine out , I said. Clear t he chamber. Check it . Take it off of safe and pull
t he t rigger in a safe direct ion.
I showed him how t o clear it properly a couple of t imes, and t hen we hung t he gun in t he
rack near t he door. It t akes only one t ime t o screw t hings up. And I learned from it . It was a
huge lesson, and I never forgot again.
Just like I never forgot anot her moving, move call aft er t hat day in t he kill house.
Our daily schedule in Green Team during t he CQB port ion st art ed at dawn. We worked
out as a class each morning. Then, for t he rest of t he day, half of t he t hirt y-man class would go
t o t he range and t he ot her half would go t o t he kill house. At lunch, wed swit ch.
The ranges were some of t he best in t he world. This wasnt your basic range where you
shot at t arget s from a line. No, wed race t hrough obst acles, fire from t he skelet ons of burnt -
out cars, and do a set of pull-ups before racing t o shoot a series of t arget s. We always seemed
t o be moving. We already had t he basics down, we were learning t o shoot in combat . The
inst ruct ors worked t o get our heart rat es up so t hat we had t o cont rol our breat hing while we
shot .
Our t raining facilit y had t wo kill houses. One was made of st acked railroad t ies. It had a
few long hallways and basic square rooms. The newer house was modular and could be
reconfigured t o resemble conference rooms, bat hrooms, and even a ballroom. We rarely saw
t he same layout more t han once. The goal was t o t hrow somet hing new at us each day t o see
how we handled it .
The pace of t raining was fast . The inst ruct ors didnt wait for people t o cat ch up. It was a
speeding t rain, and if you didnt cat ch on by t he first day, you would most likely be heading
back t o your previous unit in very short order. Like a realit y show, each week our numbers grew
smaller as guys washed out . It was all a part of preparing us for t he real world, and ferret ing out
t he Gray Man. He was t he guy who blended int o t he group. Never t he best guy, but also not
t he worst , t he Gray Man always met t he st andards, exceeding t hem rarely, and st ayed
invisible. To root out t he Gray Man, t he inst ruct ors gave us a few minut es at t he end of t he
week t o perform peer rankings.
We sat at beat -up picnic t ables under an awning. The inst ruct ors gave each one of us a
piece of paper.
Top five, bot t om five, gent lemen, one of t he inst ruct ors said. Youve got five minut es.
We each had t o make an anonymous list of t he five best performers in t he class and t he
five worst . The inst ruct ors didnt see us all hours of t he day, so t op-five-bot t om-five allowed
t hem t o get a bet t er sense of who was really performing well. A candidat e could be a great
shot and do everyt hing perfect ly in t he kill house, but out side of t raining he wouldnt be easy t o
work wit h or live wit h. The inst ruct ors t ook our t op-five-bot t om-five and compared t hem wit h
t heir list s. Our assessment cont ribut ed t o t he fat e of a candidat e because it drew a clearer
pict ure of t he st udent .
At t he beginning, it was kind of obvious who t he bot t om five were in t he class. It was easy
t o see t he weak links. But as t hose guys st art ed t o disappear it wasnt so easy t o pick t he
bot t om five anymore.
Charlie was always in my t op five. So was St eve. Like Charlie, St eve was an East Coast
SEAL. I used t o hang out wit h St eve and Charlie on t he weekends and during our t raining t rips.
If St eve wasnt working, he was reading, most ly nonfict ion wit h an emphasis on current
event s and polit ics. He also had a decent st ock port folio, which he monit ored on his lapt op
during t he few hours of downt ime. Not only was he an out st anding SEAL, he could t alk polit ics,
invest ing, and foot ball at t he same level.
He was t hick, not lean like a swimmer but more like a linebacker. Charlie used t o joke t hat
St eve looked like a groundhog.
He was one of t he few who rout inely kicked my ass wit h a pist ol. At t he end of each day, I
would always check his score t o see if he beat me. Like Charlie, St eve had been a CQB
inst ruct or for t he East Coast t eams before coming t o Green Team. He had t hree deployment s,
and he was one of t he few East Coast guys wit h any combat experience. At t hat t ime, only
West Coast t eams had deployed t o Iraq or Afghanist an. St eve had deployed t o Bosnia in t he
lat e 1990s and his t eam got int o a firefight , one of t he few before Sept ember 11.
Charlie and St eve always seemed t o end up on t he t op of my list . As more and more guys
washed out , t he t ask became harder and harder.
Coming up wit h bot t om five is kicking my ass, I said t o St eve one night .
We were bot h sit t ing at t he t able in t he range house cleaning our rifles.
Who were your bot t om five last week? he said.
I rat t led off some names, many of t he same guys on St eves list .
I dont know who t o put down t his week, I said.
Ever t hink of put t ing yourself down t here? St eve said.
I got t hree names. The last t wo, I dont know, I said. I guess we could use our own
names. I dont want t o t hrow someone else under t he bus.
I didnt t hink eit her of us was doing badly in t he class.
Im going t o risk it , St eve said. We need five names.
A few weeks earlier, we t ried t o leave t he bot t om five blank. As a class, we decided t o
rebel and st and up t o t he inst ruct ors. It didnt last long. We spent t he rest of t he night running
and pushing cars for hours, inst ead of unwinding aft er a long day of t raining.
That Friday, I put my own name down on t he bot t om five. So did St eve. He was willing t o
st and up for what was right . St eve was a leader in t he class, and when he came up wit h ideas,
guys list ened.
By t he end of t he CQB block of t raining in Mississippi, we had lost about a t hird of t he
class. The guys who washed out couldnt process informat ion fast enough t o make t he correct
split -second decision. It wasnt t hat t hey were bad guys, because a lot would re-screen and
make it t hrough on t heir second t ry. Those who didnt would go back t o t heir regular t eams,
where t heyd t ypically excel.
The rumor around t he command was if you passed t he CQB block of t raining, you had a
more t han fift y-fift y chance of passing Green Team. The inst ruct ors heard t he same rumor, so
when we got back t o Virginia Beach, t hey kept t he pressure on, never let t ing us forget t hat we
were a very long way from being done.
We were only t hree mont hs int o a nine-mont h t raining course. The next six mont hs
wouldnt be any easier. Aft er CQB, we went on t o t rain on explosive breaching, land warfare,
and communicat ions.
One of t he SEALs core jobs is ship boarding, called underways. We spent weeks
pract icing boarding a variet y of boat s from cruise ships t o cargo vessels. Alt hough we spent a
lot of t ime in Afghanist an and Iraq, we needed t o be proficient in t he wat er. We rehearsed
over t he beach operat ions where we would swim t hrough t he surf zone and pat rol over t he
beach and conduct a raid. Aft erward, wed disappear int o t he ocean, linking up wit h our boat s
offshore.
During t he last mont h of t raining we pract iced VIP securit y det ails. Afghan president
Hamid Karzais first securit y det ail were SEALs from t he command. We also at t ended an
advanced course in SERE, or Survival Evasion Resist ance and Escape.
The key t o t he course was managing st ress.
The inst ruct ors kept everyone t ired and on edge, forcing us t o make import ant decisions
under t he worst condit ions. It was t he only way t he inst ruct ors could mimic combat . Success or
failure of our missions was a direct reflect ion of how each operat or could process informat ion in
a st ressful environment . Green Team was different t han BUD/S because I knew just passing
t he swim or run and being cold, all wit hout quit t ing, wasnt enough.
Green Team was about ment al t oughness.
During t his t ime we were also learning t he cult ure of t he command. Throughout Green
Team, we were on a one-hour recall t o simulat e what we would experience on t he second
deck. If recalled, t he pager buzzed and we had an hour t o get back t o work and check in. Every
day at six oclock, we got a t est page. The pagers became anot her source of pressure t he
inst ruct ors used. Several t imes, wed get pages before dawn t o come int o work.
One Sunday around midnight , my pager went off. St ill shaking t he sleep from my head, I
rolled int o t he base in t ime and was t old t o put on my PT gear and st and by. We were going t o
have a PT t est .
We werent supposed t o be more t han an hour away and couldnt drink t o int oxicat ion. We
had t o be able t o perform when called upon. We could get a page and be on a plane t o
anywhere in t he world wit hin hours.
Soon, my t eammat es st art ed t o arrive. Some seemed like t he page had int errupt ed a t rip
t o t he bar.
Are you drunk right now? I heard an inst ruct or ask anot her candidat e.
Of course not . I just had a beer at t he house, he said.
As t he hour t icked away, I st ill didnt see Charlie.
He rolled in about t went y minut es lat e. The inst ruct ors were pissed. Hed got t en a t icket
for speeding on his way, which only delayed him more. Thankfully, it was just a verbal lashing
from t he inst ruct ors and Charlie was able t o st ay wit h our class.
Wit h only weeks left in t he nine-mont h t raining, we st art ed t o hear rumors about t he draft .
To fill out t he squadrons, t he inst ruct ors would rank t he whole class and t hen assault
squadron mast er chiefs would sit around a t able and pick new members from my Green Team
class.
The individual squadrons were in a const ant st at e of flux as t hey rot at ed from
deployment s overseas t o mont hs of t raining and t hen mont hs on st andby, during which a call
t o deploy could come at any t ime.
Aft er t he draft , t he Green Team inst ruct ors post ed a list . A whole bunch of my friends,
including me, Charlie, and St eve, were going t o t he same squadron.
Hey, congrat s, Tom said when he saw me looking at t he list . When I am done wit h my
inst ruct or t ime I am going back t o t hat squadron t o be a t eam leader.
SEALs are deployed around t he world at any given t ime. The heart of each squadron are
t he t eams, each led by a senior enlist ed SEAL and made up of a half dozen operat ors apiece.
The t eams make up t roops, which are led by a lieut enant commander. Mult iple t roops make up
a squadron, led by a commander. DEVGRU assault squadrons are augment ed by int elligence
analyst s and support personnel.
When you get t o a t eam, you slowly work your way up t he chain. Most of t he t ime, you
st ay in t he same t eam, unless you get t apped t o be a Green Team inst ruct or or work a
collat eral dut y.
The day aft er t he draft , I brought my gear up t o t he second deck. I followed St eve and
Charlie t o t he squadron t eam room. The room was large, wit h a small bar and kit chen area in
one corner. Everyone had brought a case of beer, a t radit ion when you show up at t he
squadron for t he first t ime.
Our squadron was get t ing ready t o go on st andby and t hen deploy t o Afghanist an. Some
of my t eammat es from Green Team were already packing t heir gear and deploying as brand-
new assault ers wit h t heir respect ive squadrons.
Along one wall, t he commander and mast er chief had offices. A massive t able t ook up
most of t he room, wit h smaller t ables wit h comput ers along t he perimet er. Flat -screens t hat
were used in briefings hung on one wall. The rest of t he wall space was filled wit h plaques from
ot her unit s like t he Aust ralian SAS and mement os from past missions. A bloody hood and flex-
cuffs were mount ed on a plaque on t he wall aft er t he squadron capt ured a Bosnian war
criminal in t he 1990s. Pet t y Officer 1st Class Neil Robert ss Squad Aut omat ic Weapon, or SAW,
was also hung on t he wall. He fell out of a Chinook helicopt er aft er it was hit by t wo rocket -
propelled grenades during Operat ion Anaconda in Afghanist an and was killed by Taliban
fight ers at t he st art of t he war.
As we lined up at t he head of t he t able, I saw all t hese senior guys wit h long hair and
beards. Tat t oos covered most of t heir arms, and only a few were in uniform. Toward t he end of
Green Team, we all st art ed growing out our hair and beards. The grooming st andards have
changed several t imes over t he years, but at t his point in t he war, people were less worried
about your haircut and more worried about your act ions on t he bat t lefield. It was a ragt ag
bunch of professionals. We all came from different backgrounds and we had different hobbies
and int erest s, but what we had in common was a willingness t o sacrifice our t ime and even our
lives for a great er good.
In t he t eam room, t he guys made us int roduce ourselves and give t hem a brief bio. Charlie,
t he bully, was t he first t o speak and he barely got out his name before he was met wit h a
chorus of boos and jeers from t he senior guys.
Shut up, t hey yelled. We dont care.
It went t hat way for all of us. But aft erward, t he guys were shaking our hands and helping
us get our gear unpacked. It was all in fun and, besides, everybody was t oo busy t o worry
about it . There was a war going on and no t ime t o be wast ed wit h pet t y new-guy t reat ment .
I felt at home.
This was t he kind of command Id want ed t o be a part of since I joined t he Navy. Here,
t here were no limit s on how good you could be and what you could cont ribut e. For me, all of
t he fear of failure was now replaced wit h t he desire t o perform and excel.
What I had learned during t he t hree-day screening more t han a year ago was even more
t rue in t he squadron: just meet ing t he st andards wasnt good enough.
As I unpacked my gear, I realized I had t o prove myself all over again. Just because I got
t hrough Green Team didnt mean shit . All of t he ot her guys in t he room complet ed t he same
course. I made a promise t o myself t hat I would be an asset t o t he t eam and t hat Id work my
ass off.
CHAPTER 3
The Second Deck
A few weeks before we were scheduled t o deploy t o Afghanist an, I print ed out t he
packing list . It was 2005 and I was preparing for my first deployment t o t he cent ral Asian
count ry. While at SEAL Team Five, my only combat deployment had been t o Iraq. St anding
next t o t he print er, I wat ched as t he paper rolled out . Six single-spaced pages lat er, I st art ed t o
gat her up my gear. The suggest ed packing list basically t old us t o bring everyt hing.
We worked under Big Boy Rules at t he command, which means t here wasnt a lot of
management unless you needed it . Since get t ing t o t he t eam, I prided myself on being
independent . For t he last t hree mont hs, I had t rained hard and t ried t o be an asset . I learned
t hat it was OK t o ask quest ions if you have t hem, but you didnt want t o be t he guy who didnt
know what was going on and was always asking. I didnt want t o make a mist ake on my first
deployment by not packing somet hing, so when I saw my t eam leader in t he t eam room I asked
him about t he packing list .
Hey, I said, grabbing a cup of coffee. I was get t ing my kit t oget her and t he packing list
basically want s me t o load everyt hing.
He was sit t ing at t he granit e count ert op sipping a cup of coffee and going over some
paperwork. Short and st ocky, unlike some of t he ot her guys who had longer hair and t hick
beards, he was clean-cut , wit h a short haircut and a close shave. He also wasnt t he most
t alkat ive guy and he had been at DEVGRU for much longer t han Id been in t he Navy.
He t ook Big Boy Rules seriously.
How long have you been in t he Navy? he said.
Going on six years, I said.
Youve been a SEAL for six years, and you dont know what you need on deployment ?
I felt like an asshole.
Dude, what do you t hink you need t o bring for deployment ? Load it , he said. This is your
guide. Bring what you t hink you need.
Check, I said.
Back at my cage, I laid out my gear, called kit . Each operat or at DEVGRU had a cage,
sort of like a locker big enough t o walk inside. It was t he size of a small room, wit h shelves t hat
lined t he walls and a small hanging rod t hat ran along t he back wall t o hang uniforms.
Bags of gear filled wit h everyt hing I needed for t he different missions we could be called
upon t o perform rest ed on t he shelves. One bag had everyt hing I needed for CQB. Anot her
had my HAHO (High Alt it ude, High Opening) or jump gear. My combat swimmer or dive kit
was in a separat e large green gear bag. Everyt hing was color-coded and ready. My OCD was
definit ely in overdrive, and I had everyt hing perfect ly organized and separat ed.
But some of t he gear, like a Gerber t ool, came in handy on most missions. Back at SEAL
Team Five, you were issued one Gerber t ool, which had a knife blade, screwdriver, scissors, and
can opener.
You were also issued only one scope for your rifle.
One fixed blade knife.
One set of ballist ic plat es.
That meant sort ing t hrough mult iple bags t o find t he single it em t hat you needed t o
t ransfer t o a new bag cont aining t he specialt y gear for a given mission. It was a hassle and
was not very efficient , but it was t he U.S. government and Id got t en used t o it .
But it was different at DEVGRU.
My t eam leader came by my cage lat er t hat day t o double check how I was doing and saw
my load-out s in t he color-coded bags. Off t o t he side, I had an ext ra bag wit h t he gear I
t hought Id need for most missions, including a Gerber t ool.
Go down t o supply and get a Gerber for each bag, my t eam leader said.
I looked at him confused.
I can go get four of t hem?
Yeah, you got four different mission load-out bags. You need one Gerber for each bag,
he said.
My t eam leader signed my request form and I walked down t o t he supply office. One of t he
support guys met me at t he window.
What do you need?
I showed him t he list . It was basic st uff like flashlight s and ot her t ools, but I want ed four of
each.
OK, he said wit hout hesit at ion. Be right back.
In a few minut es, he came back wit h a plast ic bin full of everyt hing on t he list . I had t o fight
t o keep from smiling t oo much. This was a dream come t rue. Back at our previous t eams, guys
spent t housands of t heir own dollars buying kit we needed for work.
The armory was even bet t er. Above t he door was a sign: You dream, we build.
For a gun geek like me, it was heaven. I had t hem set up my t wo M4 assault rifles, one wit h
a fourt een-inch barrel and one wit h a t en-inch barrel. I got an MP7 submachine gun and a
collect ion of handguns, including t he st andard-issue Navy SEAL Sig Sauer P226. My primary
weapon t hat I used daily was a suppressed Heckler & Koch (H&K) 416 wit h t he t en-inch barrel
and an EOTech opt ical red dot sight wit h a 3X magnifier. My H&K 416 wit h a fourt een-inch
barrel I set up for long-range shoot ing. It was also suppressed, and on t op I mount ed a 2.5X10
Night force scope.
I also set up my fourt een-inch H&K 416 wit h an infrared laser and a clip-on t hermal sight
t hat allowed for more precise night shoot ing. I didnt use t he gun much because my primary
weapon, wit h t he t en-inch barrel, worked for most missions, but it was nice t o have a gun ready
wit h a lit t le more range if I needed it .
I ran wit h a suppressed MP7 submachine gun on a few missions, but it lacked t he
knockdown power of my H&K 416. The submachine gun came in handy during ship boarding, in
t he jungle, or when weight , size, and t he abilit y t o st ay ext remely quiet were needed. Several
t imes we shot fight ers in one room wit h a suppressed MP7 and t heir comrades next door didnt
wake up. The H&K 416s didnt compare t o t he MP7 when you were t rying t o be ext remely
quiet .
Rounding out my guns were t wo pist olst he Sig Sauer P226 and an H&K 45C. Bot h were
suppressor capable and I t ypically carried t he 45. I also carried an M79 grenade launcher, which
was called a pirat e gun because it looked like a blunderbuss. Our armorers cut t he barrel short
and modified t he st ock int o a pist ol grip.
Of course, none of my guns were st andard issue. We all had individual modificat ions on
t he t rigger and grips. I know for a fact t he armorers t ook great pride in t aking care of t he t ools
t hat t ook care of us. Wit hout a doubt , DEVGRU had t he best t ools in t he business.
As you walked around t he command, it wasnt uncommon t o hear rounds being shot at
t he indoor and out door ranges, or hear t he t hud of a breaching charge going off in t he kill
house. Training was const ant . It wasnt unusual t o see guys walking bet ween t raining event s
dressed in full kit , wit h t heir loaded weapon slung in front of t hem. Everyt hing was geared
t oward war-fight ing or t raining for it .
I was just get t ing t he hang of t hings at t he squadron in 2005 when I found myself on a
plane headed overseas t o Afghanist an. At t he t ime, our unit was focused on Afghanist an, and
t he Armys Delt a Force was in Iraq.
Delt a hit a rough pat ch t hat year and had t aken several casualt ies in a short t ime. They
request ed addit ional assault ers, and DEVGRU rogered up and my t eam was select ed t o go.
My squadron didnt want my first deployment t o be wit h Delt a, so I spent some t ime act ing as a
float er working wit h my t roop in Afghanist an. Given Delt as needs, I event ually left Afghanist an
wit h t wo ot her SEALs and headed t o Iraq t o help out .
We got int o Baghdad well aft er midnight . The ride from t he helicopt er pad was dark as we
weaved t hrough t he desert ed st reet s of t he Green Zone. It was summer and t he humidit y
hung like a blanket over everyt hing. Sit t ing in t he bed of a pickup t ruck wit h our gear, t he
breeze felt good. Everyt hing felt and smelled t he same as my first combat deployment t o
Baghdad wit h Team Five in 2003.
We had arrived just aft er t he invasion st art ed. Our first mission was t o secure t he
Mukat ayin hydroelect ric dam nort heast of t he Iraqi capit al. Our chain of command was afraid
ret reat ing Iraqi forces might dest roy t he dam t o slow t he American advance.
The plan was simple. Based on our experience, which was zero, we planned t o fly t o t he X,
which is a t act ic t hat means we insert direct ly ont o t he t arget , keeping speed and surprise in
our favor. In t his case t he X was t he dam, and once over t he t arget in a helicopt er, we planned
t o fast -rope int o t he court yard. From t here, wed rush t he main building and clear and secure it .
Nearby, t he GROM, Polands special operat ions unit , would clear anot her clust er of buildings
while anot her group of SEALs would secure t he out er perimet er using t wo dune buggies.
Aft er a few days of wait ing for t he weat her t o clear up, we got t he word t o go. Climbing
int o t he MH-53, I could feel my heart beat ing quickly. Id been wait ing for t his moment since I
was a kid reading about ambushes in t he Mekong Delt a.
I was about t o launch on my first real combat operat ion. Id t hought about it , read about it ,
and now here I was about t o do it for real.
I probably should have been scared, or at least concerned about t he unknown, but it felt
good t o finally do it for real. I didnt just want t o pract ice t he game, I want ed t o act ually play in
t he game, and t his was going t o be my first t ast e.
The flight t ook several hours and included a midair-refueling linkup. My t eam of t went y
guys was crammed t ight ly inside t he helicopt er. The fuel smell waft ed int o t he cabin as t he
helicopt er filled it s t anks using t he boom in front of t he cockpit . It was pit ch-black inside t he
cabin, and I zoned out for most of t he flight unt il we got t he signal t o get ready.
Two minut es, t he crew chief screamed, signaling wit h his hands and t urning on a red
light . It was well aft er midnight as t he helicopt er approached t he dam.
I t ook my posit ion at t he door and grabbed t he rope. I couldnt hear anyt hing over t he roar
of t he engines. Like t he rest of my t eammat es, I was loaded down wit h breaching gear and our
chemical prot ect ive suit s. The good idea fairywhich is what we called t he t endency for
planners t o add t heir t wo cent s about every possible cont ingency, weighing t he t eam down
wit h opt ions and ext ra gear and good ideashad st ruck oft en on t his mission. We were
loaded down wit h quickie saws t o break open t he dams gat es. We had t o carry food and
wat er for a few days. We didnt know how long wed be t here, so we needed t o be self-
sufficient . The rule is, When in doubt , load it out . Of course t he more you carry, t he great er a
t oll it t akes on your body, t he slower you move, t he harder it is t o react quickly t o a t hreat .
As t he helicopt er slowed t o a hover, I grabbed t he rope wit h bot h hands and slid down t o
t he ground. We were about t hirt y feet up, and I could see t he ground coming quickly. I t ried t o
slow my descent , but I didnt want t o be so slow t hat my t eammat es would crash down on t op
of me. Wit h all my gear, I landed like a t on of bricks. My legs ached as I brought my gun up and
st art ed t oward t he gat e less t han one hundred yards away.
As soon as I st epped out from under t he helicopt er, t he rot or wash beat me down. Small
rocks pelt ed my body and dust t ore at my eyes. I could barely make out t he gat e ahead of me.
As I st art ed t o run t oward it , t he rot or wash pushed me forward int o an uncont rolled sprint . It
t ook every effort t o st ay on my feet , and I lit erally skidded t o a halt at t he locked gat e.
The ot hers were close behind me. I snapped t he lock off t he gat e wit h my bolt cut t ers,
t hen t ook point and headed t oward a clust er of buildings. The main building was t wo st ories
and had t he drab archit ect ure of an East ern-bloc count ry, made of concret e, and t he door was
met al. While my t eammat es covered me, I t ried t he handle. It was open.
I didnt know what I would find as I st epped int o a long hall. We could st art t aking fire at
any second.
I could see several rooms on eit her side. As we st art ed t o move forward, we saw
movement in one of t he far rooms. Two hands came out first , followed by several Iraqi guards.
They had t heir hands above t heir heads and t hey were unarmed.
My t eammat es ushered t hem behind me as I cont inued down t he hall. Inside t he rooms, I
found t heir AK-47 rifles. None of t he weapons had a round in t he chamber. It looked like t heyd
been sleeping and had woken when t hey heard t he helicopt ers overhead.
It t ook a long t ime t o clear t he building because of t he size. We paid special at t ent ion t o
det ail because we were looking for explosives rigged t o blow up t he dam. Wed never cleared
anyt hing t his size, so it t ook a lit t le longer t han expect ed.
No one was injured except for one of t he GROM guys who broke his ankle fast -roping t o
t he t arget .
Aft er we cleared t he main building, my plat oon chief came up t o me.
Hey, check my radio, he said. I am not get t ing comms.
When we launched, he had his radio st rapped t o his back. As he st ood in front of me now, I
could st ill see t he headphone cord dangling over his shoulder. I looked on his back and t he
whole pack was gone. All I could see was t he cable.
Your backpack is gone, I said.
Gone? What do you mean? he said.
It s gone, I said.
He hadnt st rapped t he backpack t o his body armor correct ly. Body armor has nylon loops
about a half-inch apart on t he front and back so t hat you can secure pouches t o t he vest . My
chief had only laced his backpack t hrough t he t op and bot t om loops, so when he fast -roped
down int o t he rot or wash, it blew his backpack and radio off his back and int o t he wat er below
t he dam. The radio at t he bot t om of t he river wasnt going t o do us much good. The same
t hing happened t o our medic. He lost a bunch of morphine in a similar backpack.
A lot of t he gear we were using on t he mission was new t o us. Just before we deployed,
boxes of new st uff had shown up in t he t eam room. The common mant ra was Train like you
fight , which means dont go int o bat t le wit h equipment you havent used before, preferably
ext ensively. Wed broken t hat rule, and I knew wed got t en ext remely lucky t hat it didnt bit e us
in t he ass. It was our first lesson learned.
That wasnt t he only way we were lucky on t he mission. The Iraqis had ant iaircraft guns
near t he dam loaded and ready. Had t he guards want ed t o fight , t hey could have knocked t he
helicopt ers out of t he sky as we fast -roped down.
We learned a million lessons on t hat mission, from t he need for bet t er int elligence about a
t arget t o how t o secure equipment , and wed learned t hem all wit hout losing anybody. Usually
t he best lessons are learned at t he t oughest moment s, but I didnt like how much luck had
played a role in keeping us alive on t hat mission, and my perfect ionist t endencies t ook an ego
hit .
As t he helicopt er t ook off t o t ake us back t o Kuwait t hree days lat er, I realized t hat even
t hough each of my t eammat es on Team Five had different amount s of t ime and experience in
t he SEAL t eams, we were all st ill very new t o t his, and t his raid was a first for everyone.
CHAPTER 4
Delta
Now back in Baghdad t wo years lat er, I was a lit t le more seasoned, but not much. Id
screened for and t hen complet ed Green Team, but I was definit ely st ill t he new guy. The good
part was I had some experience working in t he Iraqi capit al from my days on Team Five. Aft er
t he dam mission, my t eam was sent t o Baghdad t o help round up former regime loyalist s and
insurgent leaders.
Delt as base was in t he Green Zone, which sat next t o t he Tigris River in t he cent er of t he
cit y. Soon aft er I landed, I st art ed t o immediat ely get my bearings. The base was a short
dist ance from t he famed crossed swords, erect ed t o celebrat e Iraqs vict ory in t he Iran-Iraq
war. The sword arch st ood on opposit e sides of a large parade ground. During t he day, youd
see whole unit s posing for pict ures near t he pair of hands holding t he curved blades. The
hands and forearms were modeled on t he dict at ors, including his exact t humb print .
Delt as headquart ers was in former Baat h Part y buildings. I walked inside t o check in at t he
Joint Operat ions Cent er. Jon, my new t eam leader, came up t o meet me soon aft er I arrived. I
was brand-new and st ill had no idea what t o expect .
A former Ranger before joining Delt a Force, Jon had a t hick barrel chest and t hick arms. A
brown bushy beard t hat was so long it brushed against t he t op of his chest covered his face.
He looked like a t aller version of Gimli, t he angry dwarf in The Lord of the Rings.
Jon had joined t he Army right out of high school. Aft er years of short haircut s and lot s of
rules wit h t he Rangers, he dropped his packet for warrant officer school wit h an eye t oward
being an Apache helicopt er pilot . But , ult imat ely, he didnt want t o give up his gun. So he
screened and got picked up for Delt a and had worked his way up t he ranks.
Welcome t o paradise, he said, as we walked t oward t he t eam room. Hot enough for
you?
At least you guys have AC, I said. Last t ime I was here, I lived in a t ent . We didnt get AC
for weeks.
A lit t le bet t er living here, he said, opening t he door t o our room.
The room was in one wing of t he palace. The hallways were wide, wit h marble floors and
high ceilings. I was going t o share a room wit h him and t he newest guy on t heir t eam. My bunk
bed was in t he near corner, and I t ossed my bags next t o it . Jon helped me wheel my gear int o
t he room before showing me around t he palace.
The palace had it s own gym, chow hall, and pool. In fact , t here was more t han one pool.
Each t eam had t wo rooms. There were five guys on t he t eam. One of t hem was a former
Brit ish Royal Marine who had dual cit izenship. He came t o t he Unit ed St at es, enlist ed, and
event ually worked his way int o t he ranks of Delt a. The ot her guys were like Jon, a mix of former
Rangers and Special Forces soldiers. The newest guy was a Ranger who was wounded in
Somalia during t he Black Hawk Down bat t le. He looked like an Amish guy wit h a bowl haircut
and a pat chy beard t hat never seemed t o grow t oget her.
Aft er making small t alk, I spent t he rest of t he night get t ing my gear in order. First , I
unpacked my op gear in a cubby in t he hallway out side of t he room so t hat if somet hing went
down, Id be able t o t hrow on our gear and be out t he door. Aft er t hat was squared away, I
unpacked my clot hes and set up my bed. Since we had bunk beds, most of us used t he t op
bunk for st orage and hung a poncho liner over t he bot t om so we had a lit t le privacy.
It was close t o dawn when I was finally done. Since we worked vampire hourssleep all
day and work at night most of t he guys were racking out . The room had a couch and a TV. I
grabbed a cup of coffee and was wat ching TV when Jon came over.
Well get you plugged in t omorrow, Jon said. Let me know when you need anyt hing.
Thanks, I said.
Weve been busy, Jon said. This was a rare day off. Im sure well be out t omorrow night .
There was no easing int o it . Most days, Id get up in t he aft ernoon and wander out t o t he
pool wit h my iPod speakers. Id chill t o some Red Hot Chili Peppers or Linkin Park while I
st ret ched out on an air mat t ress. Id float a while, get t ing some sun and relaxing. One of my
t eammat es st art ed t o t ake care of t he grass around t he pool as a hobby. In a count ry of sand
and dirt , having a lit t le grass t o walk on was a real t reat . Some days, I could smell fresh cut
grass as I float ed.
Then Id eat breakfast and work out in t he gym or run. I t ried t o get t o t he range as many
t imes a week as possible. By dusk, missions would st art spinning up and wed knock out one
operat ion, t wo if we were lucky.
I was part of t he roof t eam, which meant we rode on pods above t he skid on an MH-6
Lit t le Bird. We would land on t he roof of a t arget compound and t hen assault down. The rest of
t he force would arrive in armored vehicles and clear t he ground floor and assault up.
The Lit t le Bird is a light helicopt er used for special operat ions in t he Unit ed St at es Army. It
has a dist inct egglike cockpit and t wo pods or bench seat s on t he out side. On t he at t ack
variant , t he pods or seat s are replaced wit h rocket s and machine guns.
Pilot s from t he 160t h Special Operat ions Aviat ion Regiment (SOAR) flew t he helicopt ers.
The 160t h Special Operat ions Aviat ion Regiment flies most of t he missions for JSOC. Weve
worked t oget her for years and t he 160t h pilot s are t he best in t he world. Headquart ered at
Fort Campbell, Kent ucky, t he 160t h SOAR (Airborne) are known as t he Night St alkers, because
almost all of t heir missions are done at night .
Id worked wit h Lit t le Birds briefly in Green Team, but in Baghdad I found myself perched on
t he skid almost every night as t he cit y passed underneat h me in a blur.
It was past midnight a few night s aft er I arrived, and all I could hear was t he roar of t he
engine and t he wind. At sevent y miles per hour, t he wind bat t ered me as my feet dangled off
t he side of t he seat . I knew calm, clear decision-making was t he key. But t hat was hard when it
felt like I was riding a roller coast er int o a fight .
I t ight ened t he sling on my gun, keeping it pinned t o my chest , and checked t he safet y
lanyard t hat would hopefully keep me at t ached t o t he helicopt er in t he event I slid off my seat .
Sit t ing on t he pod, I could see t he ot her Lit t le Bird on our right flank flying in format ion in t he
green hue of my night vision goggles. From t he ot her helicopt er, one of t he Delt a guys saw me
looking and flipped me t he bird. I ret urned t he salut e.
On t his hit , we were aft er a high-level weapons facilit at or, just anot her link in t he chain
funding t he insurgency. He was holed up in a clust er of t wo-st ory houses near t he cent er of
t he cit y wit h several fight ers and a large weapons cache. Our t eam was t asked wit h flying via
Lit t le Bird t o t he roof and assault ing down. Anot her t eam would come via a Pandur, an armored
t ruck wit h .50 caliber machine guns and Mark 19 grenade launchers. Theyd wait about half a
minut e for us t o breach t he roof door, creat ing a diversion, before t hey would breach t he
bot t om floor and wed clear our way t o t he middle.
Below me, t he cit y st ret ched out in a t angle of roads and alleyways built around clust ers of
squat buildings. Every once in a while, t he cit y would open up int o an abandoned lot choked
wit h t rash. I was at t he front of t he pod near t he cockpit . On t he opposit e side was Jon.
One minut e, I heard t he pilot say over my radio. He calmly point ed a single finger out his
door and in front of my face t o make sure I got t he call.
From my posit ion, I could see t he copilot point ing a laser at t he roof of t he t arget . Night
aft er night , t he pilot s managed t o navigat e t o t he exact rooft op t hrough a sea of t housands. I
had no idea how t hey did it , since everyt hing looked t he same t o me from above.
I could feel t he helicopt er st art t o descend t oward t he empt y rooft op. Coming t o a hover,
t he pilot was able t o perform a lip landing by placing t he skids on t he edge of t he rooft op.
Inst ead of fast -roping, we st epped ont o t he skid and t hen jumped t o t he roof. In less t han t en
seconds, t he whole four-man t eam was on t he roof and t he Lit t le Bird was gone.
Racing t o t he door, t he breacher set our charge and blew it open. Seconds lat er, I heard
t he charge blow on t he first floor followed by shot s being fired.
Jon was up front as we st art ed down t he st airs.
Were on t he wrong roof, Jon said, only a few st eps inside.
The shoot ing was coming from t he house next door. I heard several small explosions t hat
had t o be hand grenades as we ran t o t he corner of t he roof.
Were one building t oo far, Jon said. We moved t o see how we could support our
t eammat es in t he building next door.
The houses looked t he same from t he air and for t he first t ime t he pilot s had insert ed us
on t he wrong one. We had approached from t he sout h and landed on t he building just t o t he
nort h of our t arget .
We need t o move t o t he adjacent building, Jon said. Were not useful st aying here.
The adjacent building was east of t he t arget and t hree st ories t all, which allowed us t o
cover down at t he t arget house.
Weve got an eagle down, I heard over t he radio. That meant someone had been hit .
It t urned out one of t he Delt a operat ors was shot in t he calf. Ot hers had been peppered
wit h shrapnel from t he hand grenades.
Insurgent s in t he house were t hrowing grenades down t he st airwell, slowing t he operat ors
advance as t hey finished clearing t he first floor and moved t oward t he second.
The ground t eam st art ed t o work a medevac, and pulled back away from t he st airs. We
were able t o race around t he block and clear t he t hree-st ory building t o t he east of t he t arget .
Explosions and gunfire echoed t hrough t he buildings. From t he roof of t he building, we
st art ed t o scan for t arget s. I could see IR lasers t racking over t he windows of t he compound as
my t eammat es looked for t arget s. Every few minut es, one of t he insurgent s would st ick an AK-
47 out of t he second-floor window and unleash a long burst .
Allahu Akbar, t heyd scream aft er spraying rounds down at t he assault ers below.
It was a st alemat e. The t eam on t he ground couldnt run up t he st airs, and t here was no
way we could get on t he roof t o fight down. Over t he radio, I heard calls t o an Army
mechanized infant ry unit t en blocks away. The soldiers were providing t he out er ring of
securit y.
We always liked t o have t wo rings of securit y. This night , t he near ring was a squad of
Rangers, who set up on t he corners of t he t arget area. A mile beyond t hat were M1 t anks and
Bradley Fight ing Vehicles, which were armored personnel carriers wit h a 20mm t urret gun.
Bring up a Bradley, I heard over t he radio.
I could hear t he Bradleys t racks chewing up t he asphalt as it approached t he house.
I want you t o level t he second floor, t he assault leader yelled t o t he Bradleys
commander perched in t he hat ch on t op of t he t urret .
Smashing t hrough a st one wall on t he sout h side of t he house, it st opped in t he court yard
and unleashed a short burst from it s 20mm cannon. The rounds easily smashed t hrough t he
walls of t he second floor, t earing large gashes in t he concret e.
Pulling back, I saw t he assault leader run up t o t he Bradley.
Keep shoot ing, t he commander yelled int o t he hat ch.
What ? t he gunner said.
I want you t o level t he whole second floor, t he assault leader repeat ed. Level it .
The Bradley crunched back over t he rubble again and st art ed t o fire. One of t he
insurgent s screamed Allahu Akbar! and st art ed t o spray bullet s out t he window.
This t ime, t here was no let up from t he Bradley. Guys st art ed t o cheer as t he rounds hit in
successive explosions. In a few minut es, t he Bradley went Winchest er, which is t he milit ary
t erm for running out of ammunit ion. We brought up a second Bradley and it shot unt il it went
Winchest er as well.
By t he t ime t he second Bradley pulled back, a raging fire had erupt ed on t he second floor.
Black smoke poured out of t he windows and st art ed t o billow int o t he sky. From our posit ion on
t he roof, we could st ill hear t he insurgent s yelling. I was perched on t he nort heast corner,
holding down on t he backside of t he house. It was hard t o see because of t he t hick black
smoke.
Suddenly, I saw a mans head and t orso emerge from a window.
Wit hout t hinking, I put my laser on his chest and opened fire. I could see t he bullet s hit him
and he flopped back int o t he room, disappearing int o t he smoke.
Aft er my volley of fire, Jon raced over beside me.
What you got ?
Saw a guy in t he back window, I said.
You sure? he said, scanning t he same window wit h his laser.
Yeah.
You get him?
Pret t y sure, I said.
OK. St ay put .
Jon went back t o his post and I kept searching for new t arget s. I didnt have t ime t o dwell
on it nor did I have any feelings about it . This was t he first person Id ever shot and wit h all t he
t ime Id spent t hinking about how it would make me feel, it really didnt make me feel anyt hing. I
knew t hat t hese guys in t he house had already t ried t o kill my friends on t he first floor and t hey
wouldnt hesit at e t o do t he same t o me.
Even aft er t he t wo Bradleys and t he fire, we st ill heard yelling followed by burst s of enemy
fire. Tact ically, it didnt make sense t o assault up t he st airs.
Theyre going t o blow t he building, Jon said.
Jon decided t o pull us off t he roof rat her t han expose us t o t he blast . We joined t he ot hers
on t he ground. I wat ched as a small breach t eam, led by one of Delt as Explosive Ordnance
Disposal guys, ran int o t he first floor t o set a t hermobaric charge. The charge produces a huge
shock wave capable of collapsing an ent ire building.
A few minut es lat er, t he charge was set and t he breach t eam ran back and t ook cover
next t o me. Hunkered behind t he Pandur, I could hear him count ing down. I wait ed for t he
explosion.
Not hing.
Everybody st ared at t he EOD t ech. We all had t he same confused look on our faces. I saw
Jon walk t oward him.
What t he hell? Jon said.
The t ime must have been wrong, I heard him mumble.
I am sure his mind was running a million miles an hour. He was t rying t o figure out why t he
charge didnt blow.
Did you dual prime? Jon asked.
Everybody was t rained t o dual prime explosives, which meant at t aching t wo det onat ors t o
t he charge in case one fails. The rule of t humb was simple: One is none. Two is one.
But t hat didnt help us now. We had t o make a decision. Do we send more guys back int o
t he house t o reset t he charge, or do we wait it out and see what happens? We had no idea if
t he insurgent s moved downst airs and were now wait ing for t he assault ers t o ret urn, or if t he
EOD set t he wrong t ime and it would go off unexpect edly wit h men inside.
Finally, t hey decided t o send t he EOD t ech back inside t o at t ach a new det onat or. Again,
t he breach t eam ran back inside. We cont inued t o cover t he house, and minut es lat er t he
breach t eam was back behind t he Pandur.
You t hink it is going t o go t his t ime? Jon asked wit h a smirk.
Yeah, I am pret t y posit ive, t he EOD t ech said. Dual primed it .
On t ime, t he charge exploded and t he house crumbled ont o it self, sending out a massive
cloud covering us in t hin, t alc-like dust . I wat ched t he cloud rise int o t he sky and hang in t he
muggy morning air. By now, t he sun was st art ing t o come up.
We moved in t o sift t hrough t he rubble looking for bodies and weapons. There were at
least six dead fight ers. Most of t he bodies were up on t he second floor. Their faces were
covered in soot . Jon not iced t he sandbags near some of t he bodies.
Hey, look at t his. They had t he whole second floor barricaded, he said. Were lucky t he
pilot s made a mist ake. It probably saved our lives.
Why? I asked.
If wed act ually landed on t he right building, Jon said, t he four of us would have
assault ed int o a barricaded posit ion on t he second floor. We might have had surprise on our
side, but t he odds wouldnt have looked good once we made ent ry. Wit hout a doubt in my
mind, we would have t aken more casualt ies.
I was quiet . I looked up t o Jon and here he was saying we were lucky. A mist ake had
probably saved our lives. It was not hing but a bit of random luck.
After clearing t he rubble, t he ride back t o t he base in t he Pandurs was quiet . We were
hungry and t ired. All of our faces were covered in soot . Usually t here was more smack t alking
and excit ement aft er t aking down such a dynamic t arget . I let what happened st art creeping
int o my mind.
As we rode, Jons words kept echoing in my head. Had t he mission gone perfect ly, we
would have landed t he Lit t le Bird on t he roof and ent ered t he door on t he second floor, only t o
come face-t o-face wit h at least four heavily armed insurgent s. A four-on-four gunfight wit h
aut omat ic weapons in a room no bigger t han a bedroom never ends well.
By t he t ime we parked back at our base, I had finished my ment al gymnast ics. I simply
blocked out what could have happened and moved on t o what I learned: Somet imes
somet hing random can save your life. And always dual prime a charge.
At t he end of t he deployment , I flew back t o Pope Air Force Base in Nort h Carolina, where
Delt a is based. When we got off t he plane, members of t heir unit greet ed me just like I was one
of t heir own.
Before I boarded my flight t o Virginia Beach, Jon handed me a plaque. It was a copy of a
pencil drawing of a Delt a operat or and a Lit t le Bird. It was framed wit h green mat t ing and a
Delt a Force unit coin.
I want you t o have t his, Jon said. Anybody who runs wit h t his t eam get s one.
Mast er Sergeant Randy Shughart , a Delt a sniper, made t he drawing, and t he original was
found aft er he was killed in Somalia. Shughart was awarded t he Medal of Honor during t he
Bat t le of Mogadishu. When t he Black Hawk crashed, he volunt eered t o defend t he crash sit e
unt il help arrived. He was killed by a mob of Somalis.
Before t he at t acks on Sept ember 11, Delt a and DEVGRU were rivals. We were t he t wo
kids at t he t op of t he block, and t here was a raging debat e over which unit was t he best . Wit h
t he war, t here was no more t ime for rivalry and all t hat bullshit had gone away. They t reat ed
me like a brot her during t he deployment .
I shook hands wit h Jon and boarded my flight t o Virginia Beach.
Back home at DEVGRU t he next day, I met up wit h Charlie and St eve. They came over t o
my cage while I unpacked and got my gear back in it s proper place. The squadron was just
ret urning from it s deployment in Afghanist an. Compared t o my t rip t o Baghdad, t heir
deployment had been relat ively slow.
As much fun as I had in Iraq wit h Delt a, it was st ill good t o be back wit h t he boys.
Sounds like you were busy over t here, Charlie said.
When are you moving down t o Bragg wit h your Army brot hers? St eve said.
My jokes were weak, and I knew t hey were t alking shit . It was great t o be back.
Ha-ha, I said. Good t o see you guys t oo.
I was looking forward t o leave and t hen a t rip t o Mississippi t o shoot . I knew t he only
chance I had t o shut t hem up was on t he range. Even t hough wed all just got t en home, we
werent scheduled t o st ay long. Two weeks of leave is all we had before heading out t o t rain. It
was a cycle we would repeat for almost a decade.
CHAPTER 5
Point Man
In December 2006, we were deployed t o west ern Iraq. It was my t hird deployment at t he
command. I had spent one rot at ion working closely wit h t he CIA. It felt good t o be back wit h
t he guys inst ead of helping t he agency plan and t rain t heir Afghan fight ers. We worked wit h a
lot of ot her unit s, but it was always bet t er wit h t he boys because we were cut from t he same
clot h.
My t roop was working along t he Syrian border and in some of Iraqs nast iest t owns like
Ramadi, home t o al Qaeda Iraq. Our job was t o t arget high-level couriers t hat brought in
foreign fight ers and Iranian weapons.
The Marines in Al Anbar asked if we could help conduct an operat ion t o clear and secure a
series of houses in a village near t he Syrian border. The village was a safe haven for
insurgent s, and several leaders were st aying near t he cent er of t he t own. The plan was for us
t o hit t he houses at night and t hen t he Marines would surround t he village and relieve us in t he
morning.
Even wit h t he t eam crowded int o a Black Hawk, I was fight ing t o keep warm.
We had a combat assault dog wit h us. We used it t o det ect bombs and help t rack enemy
fight ers. I t ried t o get t he dog t o sit on my lap t o warm me up. Every t ime I got him close t o me,
t he handler would pull him away.
It was freezing when we landed about four miles from t he Iraqi village. Shielding my eyes
from t he dust , I wait ed for t he helicopt ers t o leave. I could hear t heir engines fade away
minut es lat er, heading east back t oward Al Asad Air Base.
I st amped my feet and rubbed my hands t oget her t rying t o get t he circulat ion moving
while we got organized t o move out .
Even t hough Id been t o Iraq t wice before, t his t hird deployment was different . The enemy
had evolved. So, like SEALs do best , we adapt ed. Inst ead of flying t o t he X like we did in t he
past , wed st art ed t o land miles away and pat rol in quiet ly. This way t he enemy couldnt hear
t he helicopt ers. We were t ransit ioning from being loud and fast , t aking t he enemy by surprise,
t o being soft and slow and ret aining t he element of surprise for even longer. We could creep
t hrough t heir houses and int o t heir bedrooms and wake t hem up before t hey had a chance t o
fight back.
But pat rolling t o t he t arget wasnt easy, especially in t he cold wint er night . The wind cut
int o our uniforms as we moved t oward t he village. I was near t he front , act ing as t he point man
for my t eam.
One of t he key lessons learned early on in a SEALs career was t he abilit y t o be
comfort able being uncomfort able. It was a lesson I first learned as a kid in Alaska checking t he
t rap line wit h my dad.
When it got cold in Iraq or during Hell Week in BUD/S, my mind used t o wander back t o
Alaska. I could always hear t he roar of t he snowmobile as my fat her and I headed t oward t he
line of t raps he kept miles from t he village and deep int o Alaskas wilderness.
I remember how it felt like t he snowmobile was float ing t hrough t he fresh powder, and how
as we t urned it was like being on a surfboard cut t ing int o a wave. The t emperat ure hovered
near zero, and our warm breat h cryst allized in t he air.
On one cold wint er day in Alaska, I was wrapped t ight ly in a t an Carhart t snowsuit , wint er
boot s, and gloves. A beaver hat hand-sewn by my mot her covered my ears and a scarf
prot ect ed my face, leaving only my eyes exposed. I was warm except for my hands and feet .
Wed been out for hours and I could barely feel my t oes.
I t ried t o wiggle t hem in my t hick wool socks, but it wasnt helping. Huddled behind my
fat her t o block t he wind, all I could t hink about was how cold my hands and feet were. Wed
already got t en a couple of mart en, a cat -size weasel wit h a bushy t ail like a squirrel and a soft
coat of brown fur. My fat her t raded t he pelt s in t he village t o make a lit t le ext ra money or my
mot her would make hat s for my sist ers.
But t he bit ing cold t ook t he t hrill out of t he t ime I was spending wit h my dad. Any fun I was
having disappeared wit h t he last feeling of warmt h in my body.
Id begged my fat her t o go on t he t rip.
Are you sure? he said. You know it is going t o be cold.
I want t o go, I said.
I want ed t o hang out wit h my fat her and didnt want t o be st uck back at t he house. This
was guy st uff, and he t aught me how t o shoot and hunt . As I got older, he t rust ed me t o hunt
and fish on my own, and Id t ake t he family boat up t he river for a week at a t ime. In a way, it
was my first t ast e of Big Boy Rules and I t hrived. Plus, I wouldnt have t o sit at home wit h t he
girls.
I always want ed t o be out side. I loved t he out doors, just not all t he cold weat her. I knew
t hat if my dad let me come wit h him I couldnt be t he kid complaining about t he cold. But now, a
few hours int o t he t rip, all I want ed were warm hands and feet .
Dad, I screamed int o t he wind as we drove. Dad, my feet are frozen.
My fat her, dressed in t he same snowsuit and hat , slowed t o a st op. He t urned back and I
imagine he saw a small boy wit h his t eet h chat t ering behind his scarf.
Im freezing, I said.
We only have a few more t raps, my fat her said. Do you t hink you can make it ?
I just looked at him, not want ing t o answer no. I didnt want t o let him down. I st ared at him
hoping hed make t he choice for me.
I cant feel my feet , I said.
Get off here and st art walking behind t he snowmobile. Follow my t racks. I am going t o
keep going. I wont be far ahead of you. St ick t o t he t racks and keep moving because t hat will
keep your feet warm.
I slid off t he back of t he snow machine and adjust ed t he .22 rifle st rapped t o my back.
You got it ? my fat her asked.
I nodded.
He st art ed t he engine and headed t oward t he next t rap. I st art ed walking and my feet
warmed up.
Out doorsmen pay t housands of dollars t o experience t he Alaska t undra, but for most of
my childhood all I had t o do was walk out side my door.
My family had a sense of advent ure not found in most people. When I was five years old,
we moved t o a small Eskimo village in t he int erior of Alaska. My parent s were missionaries who
met in college in California and found t hat t heir fait h not only allowed t hem t o spread
Christ ianit y but also appealed t o t heir sense of advent ure.
Besides his missionary work, my fat her worked for t he st at e. The job required a college
degree, and my fat her was one of t he few people in t he village t hat had one.
My mot her st ayed home wit h us. She helped wit h homework and kept my sist ers and me
on t rack. I was t he middle child bet ween t wo sist ers. We were a t ight family because t here
wasnt a lot t o do in t he village. Wint ers were brut al, so wed huddle around t he kit chen t able
and play board games.
But calling it a t own by normal st andards would be generous. We had t wo st ores, t oget her
no bigger t han a small t ruck st op, a small school, and a post office. No mall. No movie t heat er,
but you could rent movies at one of t he st ores. The crown jewel of my t own was t he runway. It
was just large enough t o land a 737 jet as well as some of t he bigger propeller-driven cargo
planes. That made our village t he hub of t he region. Bush planes would come in and out of
t own bringing hunt ers and out doorsmen from Anchorage t o t he more remot e villages spread
along t he river.
We lived in a t wo-st ory house one hundred yards off t he river. The house had a beaut iful
view of pict uresque Alaska. Somet imes when I was lucky, I could see a moose or a bear from
my front door. If I wasnt in school, I was out hunt ing or fishing. From t he t ime I was a lit t le kid, I
was comfort able using a gun and moving in t he woods, and being responsible for myself.
During BUD/S t raining, I excelled at land warfare. It was really no different t han my hunt ing
t rips as a kid. Wit h varying backgrounds at BUD/S, guys were st ronger in different areas. I did
fine in t he wat er t oo, but I felt most comfort able during t he weapons and land warfare t raining.
So, when I got t o DEVGRU, I t ypically act ed as t he point man for my assault t eam. On t his
cold night in Iraq, t he four-mile pat rol t o t he t arget village t ook about an hour. It was close t o
t hree A.M. when we arrived. As we got close, I could see t he light s from t he Iraqi village flickering
across a highway.
It was a dust y shit hole.
Light blue plast ic shopping bags blew down t he st reet . The smell of raw sewage from a
dit ch t hat ran along t he road hung on t he wind. I could just make out t he biscuit -colored
houses, which had a faint green hue under my night vision goggles. The power lines t hat ran
along t he highway int o Syria sagged. Everyt hing looked rat t y and run down.
As we got t o t he village, t he t eams st art ed t o peel off t o t heir predet ermined t arget s. I led
my t eam t o our t arget building. Creeping up t o t he gat e, I t ried t he handle. The heavy black iron
door creaked open. Pushing it just wide enough t o see in, I scanned t he court yard. It was
empt y.
The front door of t he t wo-st ory house had a large window covered by an ornat e grat e. I
could see inside t he foyer as my t eammat es lasers searched inside from t he first -floor
windows.
I slowly pushed open t he front door of t he house. It was unlocked. I paused at t he
t hreshold, my rifle at t he ready, and wait ed. Looking over my shoulder, one of my t eammat es
gave me a t humbs-up. I blinked t he dust out of my eyes t o make sure I could see before
st epping inside. I was wearing my cumbersome op gear over a wint er jacket as I t ried t o move
like a cat .
Think quiet , I t old myself.
The foyer was cramped. A small generat or sat on t he floor. There was a door st raight
ahead of me and anot her door t o my right . Ignoring t he door t o t he right because it was
blocked by a generat or, I crept t hrough t he door in front of me.
My senses were on fire. I st rained t o hear any movement up ahead as I scanned t he
empt y room. The smell of kerosene from t he familys heat ing st ove at t acked my nost rils.
Every st ep t hat I t ook seemed like a huge crash. We were t rained t o ant icipat e an
insurgent wit h a suicide vest or an AK-47 behind any door, ready t o at t ack.
Curt ains covered t he doorway leading back t o t he bedrooms. I hat ed t he curt ains because
at least wit h a door you felt a lit t le prot ect ed. I had no idea if someone was looking under t he
curt ain or was just wait ing for my shadow t o pass in front so t hat he could shoot .
This was t he endgame. There was no way t hese rooms would be empt y. We had no idea
if t he occupant s had heard us. On my previous deployment wit h Delt a, several of t heir guys
were killed when t hey ent ered a house and got ambushed by a fight er hiding behind a
sandbag wall. It was a deadly lesson we never forgot and it was always in t he back of our
minds as we ent ered a t arget .
I paused for a second or t wo, hoping t o draw out any impat ient ambushers. The light was
on in t he room behind t he curt ain. Flipping my night vision goggles up, I slowly pulled t he curt ain
aside.
A long, slender refrigerat or st ood at t he elbow of an L-shaped hallway. I spot t ed a door
ajar and moved t o quickly cover it while my t eammat es flooded t he hallway, clearing t he ot her
rooms. One of my t eammat es followed me as we pushed open t he door and cleared int o a
bedroom. There was no t alking. Everyone knew his job.
Three mat t resses were on t he floor and I could barely make out t wo eyes st aring at me
from t he corner of t he dark room. It was a young man wit h wispy facial hair and dark eyes. He
seemed nervous and his eyes kept shift ing from side t o side as we moved inside.
It st ruck me as odd t hat he just sat t here st aring at me.
There were t wo women, also awake, st aring at t he door. I immediat ely st art ed moving
t oward t he man. I knew somet hing wasnt right because men usually sleep in a different room.
As I passed t he women, I held my hand out , waving at t hem t o be calm. The man st art ed t o t ry
and t alk.
SHHHH! I whispered. I didnt want him t o alert any men who might be in anot her room.
His gaze never left me. I grabbed him by his right arm and yanked him up, pushing t he
blanket s away t o make sure he didnt have a weapon. Holding him against t he wall, I pulled t he
blanket s off t he women. Sleeping bet ween t he women was a small girl, no more t han five or six
years old. When I moved t he blanket off of her, t he girls mot her grabbed her and pulled her
close.
I guided t he man int o t he cent er of t he room and secured his hands t oget her wit h flex-
cuffsplast ic handcuffsand slid a hood over his head. My t eammat e wat ched t he women
while I quickly searched t he mans pocket s. I t hen pushed t he man t o his knees and shoved his
head int o t he corner. He t ried t o t alk, but I pressed his face against t he wall, muffling his voice.
Our t roop chief, who was running t he mission, popped his head in t he door.
What do you have? he said.
One MAM, I said, which is short hand for milit ary-aged male. St ill need t o search t he
room.
I walked t o t he far corner of t he room, next t o t he mat t resses, and saw t he brown st ock of
an AK-47. Rest ing on a pile of small plast ic bags was a green chest rack, used t o carry ext ra
magazines, and a grenade.
Got an AK over here, I said. Chest rack. Grenade. FUCK! I was pissed we hadnt seen
t he weapons earlier.
My t eammat e who covered t he women hadnt seen t hem eit her when we came int o t he
room.
The man I found in t he room was definit ely a fight er and a smart one t oo. He hid his gun,
chest rack, and hand grenades just out of reach and well enough for us not t o see t hem on our
init ial ent ry int o t he room.
Everyt hing inside me want ed t o shoot t his guy right t here on t he spot . He knew t he rules
we had t o follow and he was using t hem against us. We couldnt shoot him unless he posed a
t hreat . If he had any balls, he would have lit us up coming t hrough t he door. He knew we were
in t he house. The man must have heard us come in and t hought he could hide wit h t he
women.
Wit h t he house secure, I led t he man t o anot her room t o quest ion him. The rooms floor
was covered in rugs, and sleeping mat s were piled in a heap in t he cent er of t he room. A TV on
t he floor was on, but t he screen was just st at ic. Our int erpret er st ood next t o t he man as I
pulled t he hood off. His face was sweat y and his eyes were big as he t ried t o adjust t o t he
light .
Ask him why he had grenades and a chest rack, I t old t he int erpret er.
Im a guest here, t he man said.
Why were you sleeping wit h t he women and children? Guest s dont sleep next t o t he
women.
One of t hem is my wife, he said.
But I t hought you were a guest here, I said.
The quest ioning went on like t hat for about a half hour. He never got his st ory st raight and
t he next morning we t urned him over t o t he Marines.
It was frust rat ing because missions were like t his day aft er day. It was a cat ch and release
syst em. Wed roll t hem up and in a few weeks t he fight ers would be back on t he st reet . I was
confident t he fight er we found in t he bedroom would be released soon. The only way t o
permanent ly t ake t hem off t he st reet was if t hey were dead.
We found out lat er from some of t he village elders t hat t he men, including t he fight er I
encount ered in t he womens bedroom, were part of an insurgent cell t hat rot at ed bet ween t he
houses of t he village. The guy we capt ured had gone home t hat night t o st ay wit h his family.
Three ot her guys in his cell were killed t hat same night aft er a short firefight wit h my
t eammat es. My t eammat es got lucky and got t he jump on t hem before t he insurgent s react ed.
Our t roop uncovered guns, mines, and explosives for roadside bombs in t he house.
Aft er clearing our init ial t arget s, our t roop searched t he majorit y of t he houses in t he
village. In one of t he bedrooms, I found a pile of bras in one of t he drawers. I fished out a nice
whit e one wit h lace and a bow at t he cent er. Balling it up, I st uffed it int o t he cargo pocket in
my pant s for lat er.
Out side, t he BOP, BOP, BOP of t he Marines massive CH-53 helicopt ers echoed over t he
village. The sun was coming up as we held securit y posit ions in a nearby house. It was freezing.
Mornings always seemed t o be t he coldest part of t he day.
I looked up in t ime t o see what looked like t wo big gray school buses fly over me, make a
ninet y-degree t urn, and set t le int o t he open desert just nort h of t he power lines. The ramps in
t he back dropped down and out came t he Marines just like youve seen in t heir commercials.
My t roop chief walked past me t o coordinat e wit h t he Marines so we could t urn over t he
village and go home.
You see t heir HQ? he said.
I t hink t hey are down t he road, I said, point ing t oward a clust er of men and radio
ant ennas.
As he passed by, I fished out t he bra from earlier t hat night and discreet ly draped it on a
radio ant enna at t ached t o his back. When it was cold and miserable it is t he lit t le t hings t hat
warm you up. As he passed some of t he Marines, I saw t hem st are at him and laugh.
Hey, where is your HQ? t he t roop chief asked a nearby Marine.
He point ed down t he road.
Hey, sir, youve got a bra hanging off your back, t he Marine said.
Yeah, I am sure t here is, t he t roop chief said wit hout hesit at ion, glancing back in our
direct ion. Happens all t he t ime.
On t he pat rol back t o t he landing zone in t he desert , I not iced somet hing in my periphery
vision blowing in t he wind. Reaching back, I pulled on a bra st rap.
Someone had hung a bra on t he bolt cut t ers I had st rapped t o my back.
Pranks on t he t eam were a way of life.
The pranking was so frequent t hat t he squadron event ually built a wire diagram
connect ing all t he suspect ed culprit s. We used t his same wire diagram t o t rack t errorist s. We
had t he names of all t he guys in a pyramid wit h t he worst prankst er on t op: Phil, my t eam
leader at t he t ime.
Phil had been in t he Navy forever. He graduat ed Green Team t he year I graduat ed BUD/S,
left DEVGRU for a break, and joined t he Leap Frogs, t he Navys parachut e demonst rat ion
t eam. He also served as a milit ary free-fall inst ruct or before ret urning t o t he command.
I met Phil during my first days at t he squadron and inst ant ly liked him. He did several t ours
as an assault er, t hen headed up t he squadrons combat assault dog program before becoming
my t eam leader.
Phil was a great prankst er, maybe t he best . At least once, I came back t o my cage and
found t he shoelaces on all of my boot s for my right foot cut . I couldnt prove Phil did it . I knew
he had large magnet s, which hed wave over your wallet t o demagnet ize t he st rip on your
credit card. He was famous for bombing all of your gear wit h glit t er. I dont know how many
pouches and uniforms I had t o replace because purple glit t er was caked on t he Velcro or
t rapped in t he folds of t he fabric.
When t hings got slow, hed creat e a feud.
All right , who pranked me? he would yell, walking int o t he t eam room.
But we all knew he pranked himself. He was t rying t o st ir up a war because he was bored.
Somet imes, t he guys did get him back. One Friday night aft er work, we all walked t o t he
parking lot t o find Phils car high in t he air. One of his vict ims, and it was never clear who, picked
up his car wit h a forklift and left it t here.
One of t he longest running pranks in t he squadron st art ed wit h Phil. When we werent
deployed, we t rained all over t he Unit ed St at es. On t his night , we were in Miami doing some
urban t raining. It was just get t ing dark, and we were scheduled t o pract ice CQB in an old
abandoned hot el.
Before we st art ed t raining, Phil and t he local police, who kept onlookers away, went in t o
make sure it was empt y. We didnt want t o st art t raining and run up on some homeless
squat t er. At t he t ime, Phil was st ill working as a dog handler.
As t hey walked t he halls, Phil glanced int o a room and saw somet hing st icking out of t he
drywall. It was a giant t welve-inch black dildo. Sliding a rubber glove on, Phil pulled it out of t he
wall and carried it downst airs.
Look what I found, he said, waving it over his head.
Get t hat t hing away from me, I said, backing away as it flopped back and fort h in his
hand.
Wit h t he hot el clear, we st art ed t o t rain. It was just before dawn when we finished. Aft er I
put my kit int o t he t runk of my rent al car, I was exhaust ed and I collapsed behind t he wheel. As
I went t o st art t he car, I not iced t hat I had somet hing at t ached t o my st eering wheel.
Phil! I yelled, pract ically jumping out of t he car t o get away from it .
I looked around, but Phil was gone. He already fled t he scene of t he crime.
The dildo was st rapped t o my st eering wheel. It st ret ched from t he nine oclock t o t hree
oclock posit ion. I cut it off t he st eering wheel and put it in a random helmet in one of t he
equipment bags.
The dildo, which came t o be called t he St aff of Power, disappeared. We forgot about it for
a few mont hs unt il back in Virginia Beach aft er we finished some gas-mask t raining.
Since DEVGRU is t asked wit h hunt ing down weapons of mass dest ruct ion, we oft en
t rained in t he kill house in full chemical suit s. The gas masks t ook a while t o get used t o, and
we had t o be comfort able operat ing in t he suit s and masks for long periods.
It was t he end of t he day, and we all came up t o t he t eam room aft er t o get a beer. I
walked in and headed over t o t he refrigerat or. Popping t he cap and t aking a long pull, I t urned
back and saw some of t he guys huddled around t he foot of t he conference t able.
Holy shit , I heard one of t hem say.
No way, t hat isnt it , is it ? anot her one said.
I walked over t o t he crowd and saw a Polaroid pict ure t aped t o a blank sheet of paper.
The St aff of Power was coiled in someones gas mask. As soon as I saw t he pict ure, my
st omach flipped. I had no idea where t he St aff had been before Phil snagged it , and now it
could have been in my gas mask. The same mask I spent hours in t hat day. I t ried t o see if t he
mask in quest ion was mine, but t he pict ure was shot so t ight ly it was impossible t o t ell. In t hat
minut e, t he St aff of Power was in everybodys mask, and no one was going t o t ake a chance.
I followed t he crowd down t o supply and t raded in my mask for a new one. Again, t he St aff
of Power was missing in act ion for a few mont hs.
There was always food in t he kit chen, and guys used t o bring in massive jugs of pret zels
and ot her snacks from Cost co. One day a bin of animal crackers appeared in t he t eam room.
Handful by handful, t he crackers st art ed t o disappear. Youd see guys eat ing t he crackers as
t hey walked from t he kit chen t o t heir cages or out t o t he ranges.
Soon enough, about halfway t hrough t he jug we found anot her Polaroid pict ure. This t ime,
t he St aff of Power was jammed int o t he middle of t he bin wit h animal crackers piled up around
t he shaft .
To t his day, I st ill cant eat animal crackers.
I have no idea if Phil was t he culprit . I know he was t he one who found it , but t o dat e t he
St aff of Power is unaccount ed for.
CHAPTER 6
Maersk Alabama
The only t hing Phil loved more t han a good prank was parachut ing. As my t eam leader,
Phil had a passion t hat drove our t eam t o air operat ions, in part icular High Alt it ude, High
Opening (HAHO) jumps. The t echnique offered t he best and most st ealt hy way t o infilt rat e a
t arget . During a HAHO jump, you exit t he aircraft , open your parachut e a few seconds lat er,
and fly your canopy t o t he landing zone.
I got my free-fall qualificat ion at Team Five, but it wasnt unt il I got t o DEVGRU t hat I t ruly
mast ered t he art of jumping.
Let me be clear, at first jumping out of an airplane scared me.
There is somet hing unnat ural about walking t o t he edge of t he ramp and jumping out . Not
only did it scare me, I hat ed it at first . I was t he guy sucking down oxygen on t he ride up. Aft er
every jump, when I was back on t he ground, I loved it . But t he next morning, Id sweat it all over
again. By forcing myself t o do it over and over, event ually it became easier. Just like in BUD/S,
quit t ing wasnt an opt ion and jumping was a big part of our job, so it was somet hing I learned t o
love.
While I was wit h Delt a on my 2005 deployment t o Iraq, Phil successfully led a HAHO jump
in Afghanist an. We always t rained for t his t ype of mission but I never t hought Id do one for
real. Since Id joined t he command, I rot at ed bet ween Iraq and Afghanist an, deployment aft er
deployment . Things had fallen int o a pat t ern of deployment s, t raining, and st andby. There
were so many missions t hey st art ed t o blur t oget her. We were rapidly gaining combat
experience wit h each deployment . The command as a whole cont inually refined it s t act ics and
had become even more combat effect ive.
In 2009, we finally got somet hing different .
I was on personal leave, wait ing for a commercial flight back t o Virginia Beach, when I saw
t he breaking news bullet in flash across t he TV screen in t he airport . The Maersk Alabama, a
cargo ship wit h sevent een t housand met ric t ons of cargo, was headed for Mombasa, Kenya,
when Somali pirat es at t acked it in t ransit near t he Horn of Africa. It was Wednesday, April 8,
2009. The pirat es capt ured t he Maersk Alabamas capt ain, Richard Phillips, and fled wit h t he
capt ain in one of t he ships eight een-foot covered lifeboat s. They had nine days of food
rat ions. The USS Bainbridge, a dest royer, was shadowing t he lifeboat , which was mot oring
about t hirt y miles off t he Somali coast . Four pirat es were on board armed wit h AK-47s.
Sit t ing in t he airport , I wondered if we were going t o get t he call. Get t ing personal t ime off
was a huge feat since my squadron was on st andby and could be called t o deploy anywhere in
t he world wit h an hours not ice.
Wat ching t he TV at t he airport , I could see t he orange lifeboat bobbing in t he surf. Nearby
was t he gray-hulled USS Bainbridge. I t ried t o st and close so I could hear t he report over t he
noise of t he airport . Not hing was going on when Id left Virginia Beach a few days earlier, but
now I had a feeling wed be get t ing a call. As foot age of t he lifeboat popped up on-screen
again, my phone buzzed in my pocket . It was Phil.
You wat ching t he news? he said.
Yeah. Just saw it , I said.
Where you at ?
At t his point , I was t he most senior member of my t eam besides my t eam leader.
I am at t he airport , I said. I am lit erally wait ing for my flight .
OK, good, Phil said. Get back as soon as you can.
Inst ant ly, I could feel my mind racing. The plane couldnt fly fast enough. This mission was
a once-in-a-lifet ime chance. I didnt want t o miss it .
Boarding a plane is frust rat ing enough when youre not in a rush. I wat ched as folks
meandered t o t heir seat s or fussed wit h t he overhead bins. I pleaded wit h t hem in my head t o
hurry. The sooner we t ook off, t he fast er I could get back t o work. Plus, I knew once I was
airborne Id be in a communicat ions blackout . There was no way t o cont act me if t hey got t he
word t o go. For all I knew, as t he flight at t endant sealed t he doors t o my plane, I was get t ing
t he recall not ice t elling me I had one hour t o get t o t he command, and by t he t ime we landed
t he t eam would be gone.
Put t ing my headphones in, I t ried t o zone out but I couldnt . Five st eps from t he gat e aft er
we landed in Virginia I was on t he phone.
Hey, what s up? I said when Phil picked up.
It was well aft er eight at night , since Id come from t he West Coast .
St ill here, he said. Come int o work t omorrow early and I will get you up t o speed.
Planning is underway. But were wait ing for D.C. t o make a decision.
The next morning, I was at work early. Phil met me in t he squadron room. We sat down at
t he conference room t able.
Weve got one host age, Phil said. Four pirat es. They want t wo million dollars for him.
Not hing like knowing exact ly what youre wort h, I said.
Id ask for more, Phil said. A couple of million seems a bit light , unless you ask my ex-
wife.
Where are t hey going? I asked.
They want t o link up wit h t heir buddies and t ry and get Phillips t o a camp or a mot her
ship, Phil said. So, weve got t o be ready t o do a ship t akedown or go over t he beach and
t ake out one of t he camps.
Wed spent years preparing for eit her mission.
Weve already got a handful of guys on t he Bainbridge, Phil said. They were working in
Africa and jumped in last night . Negot iat ions broke down Thursday.
How long do we have before t hey make shore? I asked.
They dont want t o make landfall where t hey are now because of some t ribal issues, Phil
said. Their t ribe is a lit t le fart her sout h so t hey cant make landfall for anot her t wo days, so
hopefully we have a t imeline t o work against .
I asked about t he recall.
No recall, but it s being discussed, Phil said.
Why havent we heard anyt hing yet ? I said. It doesnt make any sense t hat it t akes t his
long t o make a decision.
Dude, it s Washingt on, he said. Does anyt hing make sense?
A day lat er, we finally got a page recalling us. Most of us were already at t he command.
Our gear was packed and ready.
About t went y hours lat er, t he ramp of t he C-17 cracked open and sunlight spilled int o t he
cabin.
I could feel t he breeze on my face as I shielded my eyes from t he bright East African sun.
Minut es lat er, I saw t he small parachut e at t ached t o a massive gray high-speed assault craft
(HSAC) snap open and st art t o drag t he boat out of t he back of t he plane. The boat s were
loaded wit h all t he gear we needed. The plan was t o drop t hem and t he crews first , followed by
t he assault t eams.
CLICK. CLICK. CLICK.
I could hear t he boat on t he met al rollers as it st art ed t oward t he door, picking up speed
before disappearing off t he ramp. Moment s lat er, a second parachut e opened and t he gray
blur of t he second boat flew past as it shot out , followed by t he boat crews.
Yeah, I yelled as I wat ched t he boat s go. Ot hers around me cheered as t he boat crews
disappeared off t he ramp.
My heart was beat ing fast er, more from excit ement t han anyt hing else, as I wait ed for t he
t humbs-up from my t eammat es on t he ramp. They were wat ching t o make sure t he chut es on
t he boat s opened.
We were jumping over t he horizon from t he USS Bainbridge so t he pirat es couldnt see us.
The USS Boxer, an amphibious assault ship used t o carry Marines int o bat t le, was going t o
rendezvous wit h us and wed st age off of her deck.
In t he wat er below, t he boat crews landed near t he HSACs and st art ed clearing off t he
parachut es. We had t hirt y minut es t o wait before we jumped, which seemed like much longer.
I was sit t ing near t he front of t he plane on one of t he bench seat s. On t op of me was one
of my squadrons communicat ions specialist s. He was wearing a t andem passenger harness
st rapped t o t he front of me. Hours before, hed learned t hat not only was he going t o Africa t o
help us wit h a host age sit uat ion but he was also going t o jump int o t he Indian Ocean t o do it .
In order t o get all needed personnel down t o t he USS Boxer, we had t o jump t hree t andem
passengers, including t he communicat ions specialist s. These t hree non-SEALs were essent ial
support personnel. During t he flight over, I had a chance t o sit down wit h t he communicat ions
t ech and brief him.
Youre mine, I said t o him. You ready for t his?
He was t hin wit h a short haircut and a bookish demeanor. He looked a lit t le nervous when I
st art ed t o go over t he jump and what t o expect .
You ever jumped before? I asked.
No, he said.
When we got t he six-minut e call, everyone st ood up t o do our last -minut e checks. I
not iced t he communicat ions specialist looked pale. He hadnt said a word since t he door
opened t he first t ime. At least my first jump was over Arizona. His was a real-world jump int o
t he Indian Ocean.
Were going t o be fine, I said.
He didnt look convinced.
The ramp opened again. There were about fort y jumpers on t he plane, and we lined up on
t he ramp.
St and by, t he jumpmast er yelled, giving us t he signal t hat we had less t han t hirt y
seconds before t he jump.
I could feel t he communicat ions specialist s leg st art t o shake. It was pract ically vibrat ing
as we got closer t o t he ramp.
Hey, buddy, just relax, I said.
All I needed him t o do was remember everyt hing I had t old him.
Green light , GO!
The jumpmast er point ed off t he ramp.
Up ahead, everyone st art ed waddling t o t he ramp and diving off one by one. As we got
closer t o t he ramp, I could see t he sky and wat er meet at t he horizon. I reached up and t apped
my passenger on t he shoulder t wice and screamed over t he wind int o his ear.
HANG!
That was t he signal t o get int o posit ion. I want ed his t oes hanging over t he edge of t he
ramp so when we dove out I didnt rake his shins on t he ramp.
He froze. I could feel his feet t ry and dig int o t he ramp. I t apped him again and yelled.
HANG!
Again, he didnt move.
We didnt have t ime t o wait . I pushed him forward and we dove off t he ramp.
The drogue chut e popped off my back. The small parachut e helped st abilize us and
cont rolled our speed during free fall. Just like during hundreds of ot her jumps, I went t hrough
my checks and pulled t he handle and opened t he main canopy.
Suddenly, all t he airplane noise bled away and everyt hing was perfect ly quiet . The only
sound was t he chut e snapping in t he wind.
Looking around, it was beaut iful. The fresh air was a welcome relief from t he C-17 cabin.
The sky and wat er were t he same cryst al blue and only a few wispy clouds were high above
us. Scanning below me, I could see a maelst rom of parachut es all circling t he four gray boat s
bobbing on t he ocean below.
It looked like a World War II dogfight as my t eammat es swooped around in circles avoiding
one anot her and coming t o rest in t he ocean.
The wat er was calm, wit h very small waves. Not far off I could see t he flat deck of t he USS
Boxer wait ing for us. As we came in, I flared out t he parachut e and splashed down int o t he
bat ht ub-t emperat ure wat er. Unhooking t he communicat ions specialist , I st art ed t o work my
way out of t he parachut e harness.
We werent more t han t went y yards from t he boat . Sliding my flippers off my ankles, where
Id t aped t hem for t he jump, I st art ed t o swim over t o t he communicat ions specialist . Behind
me, t he chut e st art ed t o slip below t he surface as t he reserve parachut e filled wit h wat er,
dragging it t o t he bot t om. I swam up t o t he communicat ions specialist as he paddled, in a life
jacket , t oward t he ladder hanging off t he boat .
How was it , dude? I said.
That was crazy, he said.
It was t he first t ime I saw him smile since t he ramp opened.
Climbing aboard t he HSAC, I found a place near t he front while we wait ed t o get a head
count . Since t he boat s were only built for t welve people, it got crowded quickly. I climbed t o t he
bow and let my feet dangle in t he wat er. I let t he current push my fins around.
Hey man, did you see any sharks? one t eammat e said t o me as he climbed int o t he bow
area.
No, I said. I knew t he wat ers around here were infest ed, but I hadnt not iced anyt hing
coming in.
Dude, as I was coming in I saw t his massive shadow below, he said.
I slid my fins closer t o t he boat .
During our flight over, Phillips t ried t o escape, rat chet ing up t ensions. He made it int o t he
wat er before being fished out at gunpoint . The pirat es bound t he capt ains hands and t hrew a
phone and American t wo-way radio int o t he ocean, t hinking t he capt ain was somehow t aking
orders from t he ship.
By now, t he lifeboat was out of fuel and was adrift . Commander Frank Cast ellano, capt ain
of t he USS Bainbridge, persuaded t he pirat es t o be t owed by t he dest royer, and t o allow t he
ships rigid-hulled inflat able boat t o deliver food and wat er. During one of t he supply runs, t he
fourt h pirat e, Abduhl Wal-i-Musi, asked for medical at t ent ion for a cut hand. He was t ransferred
t o t he Bainbridge for t reat ment . Hed been injured when Phillips at t empt ed t o escape.
Aft er set t ing up on t he USS Boxer on Sat urday, we sent a small t eam over t o t he USS
Bainbridge. The rest of t he squadron was t old t o hold t ight . In t he event t hat t he lifeboat made
landfall, we would be forced t o at t empt a rescue mission on shore.
The t eam t hat went over t o t he Bainbridge was made up of an assault t eam, mult iple
snipers, and a small command element . The SEALs set up an overwat ch posit ion on t he fant ail
of t he Bainbridge. Snipers st art ed a rot at ing wat ch as negot iat ions cont inued. We wait ed
pat ient ly for t he sit uat ion t o develop.
On Sunday, we suddenly got word t hat Phillips was now on board t he USS Bainbridge and
safe. Soon all t he guys were back and I ran int o my friend Gary. He was in t he class ahead of
me during BUD/S. Gary came t o Green Team a few years aft er me. He st art ed his SEAL career
driving mini-subs. It was funny t o t hink of him folding his six-foot -four-inch frame int o t he sub.
He was awarded a Silver St ar on t he last deployment . He lit erally st it ched up five guys t rying t o
flank his element during a mission in Kandahar. Gary went over t o t he Bainbridge and was in
charge of int errogat ing t he capt ured pirat e Wal-i-Musi.
We shook hands.
Dude, holy shit , give me some scoop. I said.
We caught t he last one when he popped his head up and smoke checked all t hree, Gary
said.
Gary t old me he was t asked wit h t alking t o t he injured pirat e, Musi. Gary hoped t he pirat e
could persuade his comrades t o surrender. Gary st art ed killing Musi wit h kindness when he got
t o t he Bainbridge.
Hey, man, want some ice cream? he said. How about a cold Coke?
Musi and Gary st ruck up a quick friendship over food and comfort . Gary kept Musi out in
t he open so t he ot her pirat es could see him drinking Cokes and eat ing ice cream. Since t he
pirat es st ill on t he lifeboat had t o yell back and fort h t o negot iat e.
I cant hear, Gary t old Musi. Tell t hem t o pull t he rope in.
Musi agreed and t he line got short er and short er, t he lifeboat inching closer t o t he
Bainbridge. The seas were get t ing rough and wit h no engine t he lifeboat was get t ing t ossed
around. As it got dark, Gary and his t eammat es pulled t he lifeboat even closer. It was pit ch-
black and t here was no way t he pirat es could t ell t hey were being pulled closer t o t he USS
Bainbridge. On t he fant ail, Gary and his t eammat es scanned t he lifeboat . Infrared lasers t hat
can be seen only t hrough night vision goggles danced over t he skin of t he boat .
One of t he pirat es always sat on t op of t he covered area keeping wat ch; engaging him
would be simple. They could also see one pirat e t hrough t he window st eering t he boat ,
anot her relat ively easy t arget . But t he t hird pirat e was always hidden, and t hey needed t o t ake
out all t hree at t he same t ime. The only way t o t ake t he shot s and ensure Phillipss safet y was
t o get t he t hird pirat e t o expose himself. Finally, aft er hours of wait ing, on Sunday night t he
t hird pirat es head and shoulders emerged from t he rear hat ch of t he lifeboat . That was all t he
snipers needed. The orders st at ed, only act if Phillipss life was in imminent danger. Wit h
t ensions already high, and fearing for Phillipss safet y, my t eammat es opened fire. In seconds,
all t hree pirat es crumbled under t he barrage.
Aft er t he last of t he sniper shot s rang out , t he t eam on t he fant ail heard one unmist akable
crack from a pirat es AK-47. The single shot echoed over t he wat er, and my t eammat es were
immediat ely deflat ed. The st akes were high. Washingt on was get t ing frequent updat es, and
t hey were wat ching drone feeds of t he lifeboat . The commanding officer of DEVGRU and our
squadron commander were bot h on t he USS Boxer.
Fearing t he worst and not knowing if Phillips was dead or wounded, t wo snipers near t he
t owline jumped up and st art ed t o slit her down t he rope t o t he boat . There was no t ime t o
wast e. Balancing on t op of t he t owline, which bobbed inches above t he dark waves, t hey
reached t he boat in minut es. Armed wit h only pist ols, t hey boarded t he lifeboat and swung
inside t he enclosure. There was a single opening int o t he raft , making t hem an easy t arget for
even a wounded pirat e.
Ent ering t he life raft , t hey quickly and met hodically reengaged each pirat e, making sure
t here was no more t hreat . They found Phillips t ied up in t he corner, unhurt . The USS
Bainbridges rigid-hull inflat able boat carrying a handful of SEALs was shadowing t he lifeboat .
When t hey heard t he shot s, t he boat raced in and t he SEALs pulled Phillips off t he lifeboat .
Back on t he Bainbridge, before t he last shot rang out , Gary grabbed Musi and slammed
him ont o t he deck.
Youre going t o jail, he said. Your buddies are dead. Youre useless t o me now.
Wit h his hands cuffed and a hood pulled over his head, Musi was led away.
Gary met Phillips at t he fant ail. The capt ain was confused and disorient ed as he climbed
on board t he Bainbridge.
Why did you guys have t o do t hat ? Phillips said.
He was suffering from a minor case of St ockholm syndrome and in t he shock of t he
shoot ings, he didnt underst and what had just happened and why.
Phillips underwent a medical exam and was found t o be in relat ively good condit ion. It
didnt t ake long before t he St ockholm syndrome wore off. He was t hankful for what my
t eammat es had done. He called his family and was flown t o t he USS Boxer before heading
home t o Vermont .
The rest of us spent a few more days on t he USS Boxer, wait ing for follow-on orders
before moving ashore and t hen flying home. It felt good t o finally save a life inst ead of just
t aking guys out . It was cool t o do somet hing out side of Iraq and Afghanist an. I was happy t o do
somet hing different . But t he downside was we got a glimpse of t he Washingt on machine and
just how slow t he decision-making could be. We were ready t o launch on t his days before we
act ually got t he call. But t he Capt ain Phillips mission renewed our capabilit ies and put us on
Washingt ons radar for ot her high-profile missions.
CHAPTER 7
The Long War
My legs ached and my lungs burned as I raced up t he mount ain.
It was summer 2009 and we were about eight t housand feet up in t he cent ral Afghan
mount ains t wo hours sout h of Kabul. Aft er t he Phillips rescue, we ret urned home, t rained for
several mont hs, and t hen deployed on schedule t o Afghanist an.
I could see t he infrared laser from t he aerial drone t racking t he movement of eight fight ers
who ran out of t he t arget compound when we arrived. Our t eam t ore off aft er t hem as soon as
t he helicopt ers ramp hit t he ground.
Alpha Team has visual on squirt ers, was all I heard Phil say over t he radio.
The fight ers were headed for a ridgeline t hree hundred met ers nort h of t he compound. We
were t rying t o cut t hem off while t he rest of t he t roop t ook down t he compound. As we closed
on t heir posit ion, I looked back t o see Phil and t he rest of t he t eam close behind. It was our first
mission on t his deployment , and we were st ill get t ing used t o t he alt it ude.
Seeing t he rest of t he t eam moving int o posit ion, I snapped back around and shouldered
my rifle. The enemy fight ers were set t ing up a fight ing posit ion roughly one hundred and fift y
yards away. I could barely keep my laser st eady aft er t he five-hundred-met er run in all of my
gear, but I managed t o lock on t o t he fight er wit h a PKM machine gun. Squeezing off mult iple
rounds, I wat ched him fall. By t hen, my t eammat es arrived and opened fire, dropping t wo more
fight ers before t he rest disappeared over t he ridgeline and out of sight .
Leaving t heir dead, t he remaining fight ers raced down t he backside of t he ridge.
We have five hot spot s moving t o t he nort h t oward several compounds, I heard t he drone
pilot say in my radio. I could see t he laser from t he drone moving down t he backside of t he hill.
Phil gave t he t eam a nod, and we were off on anot her dead sprint t o close t he dist ance.
As we crest ed t he t op of t he ridgeline, we slowed down, careful not t o rush int o a hast y
ambush. I saw t hree bodies lying t here, one wit h t he machine gun and one wit h an RPG. We
were lucky t o t ake out t heir t wo biggest guns in t he first seconds of t he fight .
The dead fight ers were dressed in baggy shirt s and pant s and black Cheet ahs, high-t op
Puma-like sneakers worn by Taliban fight ers. It was a running joke in t he squadron t hat if you
wore black Cheet ahs in Afghanist an, you were aut omat ically suspect . Ive never seen anyone
but Taliban fight ers in t hose sneakers.
From t he ridgeline, we could see t he surviving fight ers t earing down t he backside of t he
hill. Phil snat ched t he RPG lying next t o one of t he dead fight ers and fired it at t he group as
t hey ran off. The rocket landed nearby, and t he shrapnel peppered t he fight ers as t hey ran.
Dropping t he launcher, he t urned t o me. Over t he radio, we were get t ing calls about close
air support , or CAS. An AC-130 gunship was circling above us.
CAS IS COMING ON STATION, Phil lit erally screamed at me from t wo feet away.
The RPG had knocked out his hearing.
I can hear you, I said. St op screaming.
WHAT? Phil said.
For t he rest of t he night , I could hear Phil before I saw him. Every word out of his mout h
came in a scream.
We wat ched from t he ridgeline as t he AC-130s 20mm cannon pounded t he fight ers.
Sending t he combat assault dog, which Phil had nicknamed t he hair missile, ahead, we spent
t he rest of t he night chasing down t he remaining fight ers. All of t hem were eit her mort ally
wounded or dead.
Phil and anot her assault er chased a fight er int o one of t he compounds, while t he rest of
us st art ed t o clear a field of waist -deep grass. The AC-130 was report ing more hot spot s. We
launched t he hair missile and he locked on t o t he scent of a fight er about fift y feet t o my right . I
could hear t he fight er st art screaming as t he dog at t acked.
Calling t he dog off, t he assault ers t hrew hand grenades int o t he dit ch where t he fight er
wait ed t o ambush us. As t hey moved up t o clear t he dit ch, I st art ed t o move forward.
Even under my night vision goggles, it was difficult t o see. The grass was t hick and hard t o
walk t hrough. Behind me, I could hear int ermit t ent gunfire as Phil and anot her assault er were in
a firefight wit h a barricaded shoot er in one of t he compounds. My gun was up and I t ried t o use
my laser t o illuminat e a pat h t hrough t he grass. I could see burnt pat ches ahead of me where
20mm shells had hit .
Every st ep was measured.
I saw a dark shadow at my feet , underneat h my night vision goggles. I lift ed my foot t o
st ep on it , assuming it was a log or a branch, when I heard a man gasp. I jumped back and
opened fire. It scared t he shit out of me.
Taking a second t o confirm I didnt act ually shit myself, I got my nerves under cont rol. I
moved up t o search t he body. He must have been dead before I got t here. The weight of my
foot on his chest forced t he air out of his lungs. The body was singed from t he 20mm rounds.
Aft er a quick search, I found an AK-47 and a chest rack.
Back in Jalalabad, we posed for some pict ures aft er t he mission. Phil, wearing a black
Under Armour skullcap, had t he RPG draped over his shoulder. The pict ure would be a
reminder of t he t ime he cut down t he enemy wit h t heir own RPG and blew out his hearing.
It was a good night s work and a great st art t o a lively deployment . That night , we killed
more t han t en fight ers and suffered no casualt ies. As usual, it was a combinat ion of skill and
luck. Wit hout a doubt , t he shoot er in t he dit ch would have ambushed us, which proved t he
value of t he combat assault dog.
Since arriving at t he unit , my life had been a series of highs from great operat ions and t hen
days of lows wait ing for t he next mission. If we werent deployed, we were t raining t o deploy.
Wed alt ernat e deployment s bet ween Iraq and Afghanist an. The pace was nonst op. It didnt
mat t er if you were single or married wit h kids. Our whole world was focused on our work. It was
our number one priorit y.
It isnt smart for me t o get t oo much int o families for securit y reasons, but it is also
dishonest t o make you t hink we didnt have t hem. We had wives, kids, girlfriends, ex-wives, and
parent s and siblings all vying for our t ime. We t ried t o be good fat hers and spouses, but aft er
years of fight ing t he war it was hard t o be present even when we were at home.
We lived wit h one eye on t he news, wait ing for t he next Capt ain Phillips st ory. When we
t rained, we did it in a way t hat was as accurat e as possible. We were t oo busy doing our
normal deployment , t raining, and keeping t he wheels on t he bus at home t o t hink of much else.
For t he most part , our families underst ood t he lifest yle. When were gone eight t o t en
mont hs out of t he year on t raining or deployment , t hey always ended up being t he last priorit y.
They want ed us home.
They want ed us safe.
They knew very lit t le of what was really going on in our lives. They never experienced t he
sat isfact ion of knowing t hat every IED maker or al Qaeda fight er we killed made t he world a
lit t le safer, or at least made life easier for t he soldiers pat rolling along t he roads in Afghanist an.
They might underst and it in t heory, but t hey were always left at home t o worry.
The families wait ed for t he men in dress uniforms t o arrive at t heir door and deliver t he
news t hat we werent coming home. The SEAL communit y has lost a lot of great guys, and
DEVGRU alone has lost more t han it s share. Those sacrifices have not been for not hing. The
lessons we learned and t he heroic act ions of our brot hers were not going t o be in vain. We
knew t he risks on deployment s and in t raining. We knew how t o live wit h t hem, and we
underst ood t hat we had t o sacrifice t o do t his job. Our families, like my fat her who hadnt
want ed t his lifest yle for me, didnt always underst and.
Just before my high school graduat ion in Alaska, I t old my parent s my plan t o enlist . My
parent s werent pleased. My mot her didnt let me play wit h G.I. Joe or ot her milit ary t oys when I
was younger because t hey were t oo violent . I st ill joke wit h my mot her t hat had she let me play
wit h act ion figures and get it out of my syst em I might not have joined t he milit ary.
Before graduat ion, I sat in t he kit chen and t alked on t he phone wit h recruit ers. At first , I
t hink my parent s t hought it was a phase. But soon t hey realized how serious I was about
joining t he Navy.
My fat her sat me down t o t alk about my plans and about college.
I just dont want you in t he milit ary, he finally said.
He wasnt a pacifist by any means, but hed grown up during Viet nam and knew how war
impact ed people. A lot of his friends had been draft ed and hadnt come back. He didnt want
his son t o ever go t o war. But I didnt hear t he concern in his voice or t he nervousness about
his only son put t ing himself in harms way. I just heard him t ell me what I couldnt do.
Im doing it , I said. This is what I want .
My fat her never raised his voice. Inst ead, he reasoned wit h me.
Hear me out , he said. If you ever list en t o anyt hing I say, will you t ake one piece of
advice from me? Try one year of college. If you dont like it , you dont have t o go back.
My dad knew t hat I hadnt seen much of t he world growing up in a small village in Alaska.
They were bet t ing if t hey could t alk me int o going t o school, Id be exposed t o so many new
t hings t hat I wouldnt pursue my dreams of becoming a SEAL.
I was accept ed t o a small college in sout hern California.
OK, Dad, I said. One year.
One year t urned int o four, and wit h my degree I considered joining t he Navy as an officer. I
made friends wit h a former SEAL in school who advised me not t o join as an officer. He t old me
I could always become an officer lat er, but t he enlist ed rout e meant more t ime as an operat or
and allowed me t o st ay in t he fight . When I enlist ed aft er college, my fat her had no object ions.
Like all of my t eammat es, I was driven t o be a SEAL. And once I finished BUD/S, I was
driven t o be t he best SEAL I could be. I wasnt unique. There was a whole command of guys
just like me. But like me, t hey all st ruggled wit h balance. We called it t he speeding t rain; it was
hard t o get on, and it was hard t o get off, but once youre t here youd bet t er hang on because
youre in for a ride.
We really had t wo families: t he guys at work and t hen family and loved ones left at home. I
came from a t ight family in Alaska. I felt t he same way about t hem as I did about my
t eammat es, like Phil, Charlie, and St eve.
For a lot of guys, keeping t he balance bet ween work and family life was fleet ing. Many of
my t eammat es suffered t hrough bit t er divorces. We missed weddings, funerals, and holidays.
We couldnt t ell t he Navy no, but we could t ell our families no. And we did, oft en. It was difficult
t o get t ime away. Work was always t he number one priorit y. It t ook everyt hing out of you and
gave back very lit t le.
The funny t hing was, even when we were on leave before a deployment , Id see guys at
work. We came in t o work on gear, work out , or just t ake care of last -minut e issues before we
deployed.
The dirt y secret of it all is t hat everyone, including me, loved it . We want ed t o get t he call
every t ime, which meant everyt hing else in t he world t ook a backseat .
I was on my elevent h consecut ive combat deployment in 2009. I had worked my way up
from a new guy t o being Phils number t wo. From 2001, t he only break I had was Green Team, if
you call t hat a break. That was eight years st raight of eit her going on missions or t raining for
t hem. By now, I was smart er and more mat ure. As I moved up, new guys came in behind me.
The new guys now had more combat experience. They were cert ainly bet t er t han I was when I
arrived at Green Team. The command as a whole was bet t er. We were primarily focused on
Afghanist an. Even wit h operat ions in Iraq winding down, our pace never lagged. We all want ed
t o work, but all of t he senior guys were st art ing t o feel t he miles.
St eve had moved up. He was in charge of one of t he ot her t eams in our t roop. Charlie was
an inst ruct or in Green Team.
It was a summer deployment , which meant we were busy. The annual Taliban summer
offensive was in full swing. During t he wint er, t he fight ing slowed because it was cold and
miserable. When an American soldier went missing at t he st art of t he summer, we dropped
everyt hing t o find him.
Privat e First Class Bowe Bergdahl disappeared on June 30, 2009. A Taliban group
capt ured him and quickly moved him closer t o t he border bet ween Pakist an and Afghanist an in
hopes of get t ing him across. Our int elligence analyst s t racked every lead aft er his
disappearance, and we launched on several rescue at t empt s but came up empt y. It was a race
t o get him back before t hey smuggled him t o Pakist an. The fear was t hat t he group t hat
capt ured him would event ually sell him t o ot her groups like t he Haqqani net work, a t errorist
group allied wit h t he Taliban.
Less t han a mont h aft er he disappeared, t he Taliban released a video showing Bergdahl,
dressed in t he baby blue long shirt and baggy pant s of t he region, sit t ing in front of a whit e
wall. He was lean, wit h a long neck and a lit t le scruff under his chin. In t he video, he looked
fright ened.
One evening just aft er t he first video appeared, we got word t hey might have a possible
locat ion for him.
Int elligence says he was likely in t his area sout h of Kabul t oday, our t roop commander
said, point ing at a map of cent ral Afghanist an. We dont have much int el t o go off of, but t his
is a priorit y.
We were gat hered up for a mission brief at t he operat ions cent er. St eve and his t eam
were t here t oo. The ent ire t roop was slat ed t o go. The plan was t o fly t o t he Y, which means
landing just out side of RPG range and t hen moving int o posit ion. It wasnt as safe as pat rolling
in, but it wasnt as dangerous as flying t o t he X. It was t he only way we could assault t he
t arget and clear it before t he sun came up.
It was already midnight , which meant we were running out of darkness. So we had t o
launch immediat ely.
Weve got one hundred percent illuminat ion t onight , so it will be bright as fuck out t here,
fellas, Phil said.
Typically, we t ry not t o operat e when t he moon is full. Our night vision works even bet t er,
but t he high illuminat ion means t he enemy could see us t oo, cut t ing our advant age in half.
Tact ical pat ience is key. We t ypically liked t o wait and develop a t arget , and t hen hit it wit h
t he odds st acked in our favor. We werent fight ing second graders. The Taliban are good
fight ers and we already knew t he operat ion had t he pot ent ial t o get squirrelly.
Hey guys, we are get t ing our hands forced a lit t le here, t he t roop commander said. We
need t o accept a lit t le more risk because of who were going aft er.
A cloud of dust covered me as I ran off t he ramp of t he CH-47 Chinook helicopt er. We
landed in an open field, and my t eams job was t o move west of t he t arget while St eve and his
t eam moved sout h, creat ing a loose L shape as we moved t oward a clust er of compounds
where we t hought Bergdahl might be held.
The t arget was an hour-and-a-half helicopt er ride from our base in Jalalabad. There was a
house on t he edge of t he landing zone. St eves t eam t ook a few st eps off t he ramp before
fight ers st art ed spilling out of it . One of t he Taliban fight ers had a PKM machine gun. I could
hear t he aut omat ic weapons fire over t he rot or noise as I ran.
Looking over my shoulder back at t he helicopt ers, I saw t he t racer rounds, like lasers, cut
t hrough t he dust cloud and zip past t he helicopt er. I could just make out St eves t eam diving
for cover and inst ant ly maneuvering on t he enemy.
Under effect ive machine gun fire, one of St eves t eammat es pulled out his pirat e gun, a
small single-shot grenade launcher. In a one-in-a-million shot , he popped up bet ween machine
gun burst s and lobbed a grenade int o t he house, which landed perfect ly inside t he door. I heard
a muffled explosion and saw smoke st art pouring out of t he door. The grenade suppressed t he
fire immediat ely, giving St eve and his t eam vit al seconds t o close on t he house wit hout t aking
any casualt ies. St acking next t o t he door, t hey cleared t he house and killed t he remaining
fight ers.
Weve got movers t o t he nort h and t o t he east , Phil said over t he radio.
Wit h so much moonlight , I could see like it was daylight . If t hey could make us out wit h a
naked eye from one hundred met ers away, using our night vision we could see t hem at t hree
hundred met ers.
The field in front of us was perfect ly flat , and I could see fight ers wit h weapons slung on
t heir backs, racing away from t he helicopt ers. A road ran from nort h t o sout h across t he field,
past t he compounds and out of t he valley. I could just make out t wo guys on a pair of mopeds
racing away. Phil spot t ed a group of four fight ers running west away from t he road t oward a
small house.
Ive got me plus t wo, Phil said. Well t ake t he guys t o t he west . You t ake t he guys on t he
bikes.
St eves t eam cleared t he t arget compound. There was no sign of Bergdahl, but we figured
he had t o be somewhere nearby. There were t oo many fight ers here, and t hey were well
armed.
Wit h me were t wo snipers from our reconnaissance unit , called RECCE, plus t he EOD t ech.
Phil t ook t he dog t eam and one assault er.
As we ran across t he field, we pract ically st epped on t op of a fight er hiding in t he grass. I
didnt see him at first ; one of t he snipers made him out and opened fire. As we moved forward, I
not iced he was wearing Cheet ahs. Guilt y.
Moving forward again, I saw t he fight ers mopeds parked just off t he road. I picked up t wo
heads popping up over a hay bale, which had t o be four t o five feet t all at least , and t en or
fift een feet wide.
Ive got a visual on t wo pax roughly t hree hundred met ers at t welve oclock, I said.
In milit ary jargon, pax are people. The snipers saw t hem t oo, and we st opped in t he field
and t ook a knee. We needed a quick plan.
Im going t o set up on t he road and see if I can get a shot , one of t he snipers said.
He was one of t he most experienced snipers at t he command. In a previous deployment in
Iraq, he had hunt ed down an Iraqi sniper who was shoot ing Marines. It t ook him weeks, but he
event ually found t he Iraqi sniper holed up in a house. He shot t he Iraqi sniper t hrough a missing
brick in t he wall.
The road was t o t he left of t he hay bale and had a lit t le rise, giving him some high ground.
Ill t ake t he right flank, t he EOD t ech said.
OK, I said. Ill t ake t he middle and t ry and get a hand grenade over t he t op of t he hay
bale.
I didnt love t his plan, but we didnt really have a choice. Wit h our fields of fire and Phils
t eam t o our right flank, we were limit ed on how we could maneuver t o clear around behind t he
hay bale.
I t rust ed t he snipers t o cover me as I moved up. It was about a t wo-hundred-met er shot
not easybut wit h t heir scopes and night vision it was not difficult eit her.
We quickly moved t o our posit ions.
RECCE set .
I was carrying a small, ext endable ladder on my back. I dumped it in t he grass and marked
it wit h an infrared or IR chemical light .
EOD set .
Transferring my rifle t o my left hand, I knelt down and t ook a grenade from my pouch. I slid
t he pin out and held it in my right hand. I t ook a deep breat h and st art ed t o sprint t oward t he
hay bale. I could hear only my breat hing and t he wind whipping by as I t ried t o close t he
dist ance before t he fight ers peeked over t he t op again. About halfway t o t he hay bale, I heard
an AK-47 open fire off my right flank. Phil and his crew must have t racked down t he enemy
fight ers.
The sprint didnt t ake more t han a few seconds, but in my mind everyt hing slowed like a
t elevision replay. I was less t han one hundred feet from t he hay bale when a head popped up.
I was in t he open wit h no cover. I couldnt freeze. I had t o get t o t he hay bale. I didnt have
t he best arm, so I knew I couldnt clear t he hay bale wit h a t hrow from t his dist ance. I had t o
keep closing. A split second lat er, several rounds from t he snipers hit t he fight er in t he chest ,
sending him t umbling back like a rag doll.
One of t he rounds ignit ed t he propellant on an RPG rocket st rapped t o t he fight ers back.
As he t umbled back behind t he hay bale, I saw sparks and fire shoot out of his backpack. He
looked like a giant sparkler.
Sliding t o a st op at t he base of t he hay bale, I t ossed t he grenade over t he t op and rolled
away. I heard t he crack of t he explosion and t urned t o run.
Under t he cover of t he sniper, I linked up wit h t he EOD t ech and t he ot her sniper in t he
field. We maneuvered back t o t he hay bale while t he second sniper covered us. Coming around
t he left side wit h our guns at t he ready, we found one fight er on his back, t he RPG st ill burning
underneat h him. There was no sign of t he ot her fight er.
As we began t he search for t he missing fight er, a message crackled across t he radio.
Weve got a wounded eagle, weve got a wounded eagle request immediat e medevac.
One of t he snipers wit h me was a medic and immediat ely st art ed moving t oward Phils
t eam. We st ill hadnt found t he missing enemy fight er, so I pushed t he t hought of who might be
wounded out of my mind and t hree of us cont inued t o search.
I helped t he EOD t ech gat her up t he fight ers guns and mopeds. The fight ers had
morphine kit s and grenades. They were professionals, not some farmers who picked up AK-
47s when t he crops werent in season.
We never found Bergdahl on t hat deployment , and as of t he summer of 2012 he was st ill a
prisoner. But in my gut , I t hink he was t here at some point . We probably missed him by a few
hours, or maybe in t he fight t hey were able t o escape.
Aft er t hings quiet ed down, t he EOD t ech set charges t o blow t he enemys equipment .
Im ready, t he EOD t ech said.
We moved t o a safe dist ance, and he set off t he charge, blowing t he gear and t he fight ers
body t o shreds. The charge gashed t he hay bale, set t ing some of it on fire and leaving a black
scorch mark on t he rest .
We never found t he ot her fight ers body, but when we went back t o make sure t he gear
was dest royed, we found t hree human hands. We guessed t he fight er probably crawled int o
t he hay bale and died.
Before long, I heard t he familiar sound of an inbound CH-47 Chinook. It set down just long
enough t o hust le t he pat ient on board before it was back in flight and moving fast t oward t he
t rauma hospit al in Bagram, a massive airfield nort h of Kabul.
Alpha 2, t his is Alpha 1, Phil said over t he radio. I was Alpha 2. Phil was Alpha 1. It was t he
first t ime Id heard from Phil since we split off t o chase t he squirt ers.
Hey, man, t ake care of t he guys for me, Phil said.
The wounded eagle was Phil. He was sit t ing on t he deck of t he helicopt er wit h his pant leg
cut open. Blood soaked t he deck and his uniform. He was feeling no pain t hanks t o a heavy
dose of morphine.
I found out lat er his t eam had been closing t he dist ance on t wo heavily armed fight ers.
They sent t he combat assault dog ahead. The fight ers saw t he dog and opened fire. Phil was
hit and t he dog was killed. The bullet t ore open Phils lower leg. He almost bled out and died,
but quick work by our t wo medics not only saved t he leg but also his life.
Hey, you got it , brot her, I said. Take care.
Walking back t o t he landing zone t o regroup wit h t he t roop, t he jokes already st art ed.
Good job t aking out Phil so you can be in charge, said one of my t eammat es. We saw
you shoot him in t he leg and run over and grab his call-sign pat ch.
Phil wasnt even at t he hospit al yet , and t he shit -t alking had already begun.
CHAPTER 8
Goat Trails
I had t o t ake a leak.
Since boarding t he helicopt er t hirt y minut es before in Jalalabad for t he ride t o a combat
out post in Afghanist ans mount ainous Kunar Province, t he pressure had been building. It was
st andard procedure for everybody t o t ake a leak before you left . But it was such a short ride, Id
decided t o hold it unt il we got t here.
It was t wo mont hs aft er Phil got shot . He was home recovering. We had about t hree
weeks left on our deployment . I had been a t eam leader ever since Phil was medevaced. We
were heading t o a remot e forward operat ing base or FOB in one of t he most volat ile regions of
east ern Afghanist an. The FOB was going t o be a st aging area for an operat ion we were going
t o conduct high in t he mount ains.
I could feel t he CH-47 Chinook helicopt er come t o a hover and st art t o descend. A few
seconds aft er t he t ires hit , t he ramp came down and I dashed off t he bird, walking under t he
massive rear engine headed for a dit ch about t went y yards from t he landing zone. We landed
about fift y met ers out side t he perimet er of t he small firebase, so I felt pret t y safe st anding out
in t he open.
I was joined by a few of my t eammat es who also sought relief. It was pit ch-black and no
illuminat ion. The mount ains t owering above me blocked any chance for light . Over my shoulder,
t he helicopt ers blades beat t he ground, creat ing a dust cloud. The roar of t he CH-47s engines
was deafening.
St anding at t he lip of t he dit ch, I admired t he beaut y of t he st eep mount ains. Through t he
green glow of my night vision goggles, it act ually appeared quit e peaceful. Then my eyes
caught t he glow of somet hing st reaking across t he sky. For a split second, I t hought I was
looking at a shoot ing st ar unt il I realized it was heading right for me.
WHOOM!
A rocket -propelled grenade slammed t en feet off t he t ail ramp of t he helicopt er, showering
my t eammat es wit h shrapnel. Before I could react , I saw t racer rounds and more rocket s crash
around us. I st art ed t o move t oward a dit ch on t he ot her side of t he landing zone. Everybody
was st unned. In our minds, we were simply using t his base as a jumping-off point for our
mission. We didnt expect t o make cont act unt il we assault ed t he act ual compound a few
hours lat er.
I could hear t he whine of t he helicopt ers engines change as t hey t ook off and flew out of
t he valley. As t he second helicopt er lift ed off in a hurry, it s rot or wash set off one of t he t rip
flares t hat surrounded t he perimet er of t he small combat out post we were planning t o st age
from. The flares, in t heory, were set up t o alert t he base of an at t ack, but we were now
exposed, illuminat ed by t he flare and in t he open. We st art ed t o peel back in small t eams away
from t he light as t he fight ers shift ed fire t oward t he base.
I t ried t o get my pant s but t oned up while in a dead sprint . I could hear t he t hump of t he
first out going mort ars and t hen t he st eady hammering of an American .50 caliber machine gun
as t he soldiers at t he base react ed t o t he at t ack. Sliding int o a dit ch, we wat ched as t he
American heavy weapons st art ed raking t he ridgeline. It looked like a Bloomin Onion at
Out back St eakhouse. Guns st uck up on all sides of t he base made of Hesco barriers, large wire
frames filled wit h sand.
Once t he flare died out and we had t he cover of darkness again, we maneuvered our way
back t o t he main gat e and inside t he prot ect ive wall of t he out post .
When we got inside t he gat e, our medics st art ed working on t he wounded. No one was
hurt badly, but shrapnel from t he RPGs hit an Army Ranger, our int erpret er, an Afghan soldier
part nered wit h us, and our combat assault dog. The helicopt ers were loit ering nearby, and
when t he fire st opped, t hey raced back int o t he valley t o pick up t he wounded.
Once all t he wounded were loaded on t he helicopt ers and safely on t heir way back t o t he
hospit al, t he t roop chief and t eam leaders met wit h t he FOBs Army company commander and
first sergeant inside t he command bunker.
Charlie and t he rest of t he t roop wait ed in t he out post s weight room. Charlie had
volunt eered t o come over for t he last couple of mont hs of t he deployment and was running
wit h my t eam. Since Phil had been wounded and I t ook over, we were a man short and needed
an ext ra shoot er. Charlie had just finished his t ime as a Green Team inst ruct or.
Heard you shot Phil t o get t his job, Charlie said when he got in count ry. Is t hat how you
get a t eam now? Bet t er wat ch your six.
I had missed t he big bully, and it was good t o have him back.
Once Phil left , t he pranking around t he camp st opped. I was confident my room was free
from glit t er bombs, but t he mood was never as light as when Phil was prowling around. Most of
all, we missed his experience. Much like a foot ball t eam, we had t he next man up ment alit y.
We all knew how t o do t he job, but it was hard t o argue against experience. Phil had a t on of it .
The pace of operat ions made it hard t o dwell on t he past . But he was missed for sure.
Having Charlie back made up for some of it . Fresh off of inst ruct or dut ies at Green Team,
he was sharp, and on t his operat ion he was going t o be vit al. His experience and calm
demeanor under fire were second t o none.
The operat ions cent er was small, and maps of t he area hung on t he wall above furnit ure
made of plywood. Ant ennas st uck up out of t he corner of t he squat building. Sandbags made
up t he walls and roof, prot ect ion against RPGs and mort ar rounds. A radio sat in one corner,
and t wo young Army specialist s or junior enlist ed men sat nearby monit oring it .
I st ood next t o St eve and looked at t he map.
Sorry about t he welcome part y, t he Army capt ain in charge of t he out post said. We get
it about once a week. You just happened t o be at t he right place at t he right t ime.
Operat ing in Kunar was t ough. Id argue it was one of t he t oughest places t o effect ively
t arget t he enemy in t he ent ire count ry. It was rare t hat we made t he t rip up t o t he province
wit hout get t ing int o a fight . Locat ed in t he lower Hindu Kush, t he mount ains and narrow valleys
wit h st eep sides serve as formidable nat ural obst acles. The province has been a favored spot
of insurgent groups for decades. It s impenet rable t errain, cave net works, and border wit h t he
semi-aut onomous Pakist ani Nort h-West Front ier Province provide significant advant ages for
milit ant groups.
Known as Enemy Cent ral or Indian Count ry, bet ween January 2006 and March 2010
more t han sixt y-five percent of all insurgent incident s in t he count ry occurred in Kunar. Nat ive
Taliban forces mingle wit h foreign al Qaeda fight ers, while mujahedeen milit ias also operat e in
t he region.
On a t able at t he cent er of t he room was a map of t he area. We all huddled around it . The
plan was t o pat rol deep int o a valley t o t he sout h of t he out post and conduct a kill or capt ure
operat ion against a group of high-level Taliban who were having a meet ing.
We were coming up near t he end of deployment , and t his might be our last chance t o hit
such a juicy t arget . It had already been a solid deployment , despit e Phil get t ing wounded and
one of t he dogs being killed. If we played our cards right , we were going t o get a lit t le payback.
From our drones overflying t he suspect ed compound, we observed roving pat rols. Over
t he years, St eve and I had got t en pret t y good at spot t ing what we called nefarious act ivit y.
Drone feeds by t hemselves dont look like much. On t he screen, people look like small ant s
moving around, but t o me and St eve, everyt hing we could see on t he feed was adding up.
Most compounds dont have roving guards. Combine t hat wit h t he locat ion in Kunar and
int elligence report s about t he meet ing, and it all added up t o nefarious act ivit y.
We knew we were in for a fight .
The plan was for my eight -man t eam t o climb up t he ridgeline and parallel t he valley unt il
we made our way past t he t arget compound. We would set up a blocking posit ion on t he uphill
side and cont ain t he fight ers in t he valley if t hey t ried t o escape. They wouldnt expect us on
t he high ground, since t he compounds sat almost at t he very t op of a valley. The ot her t wo
t eams would pat rol up t he main road int o t he valley and t ry and flush t he Taliban fight ers out
t o where my t eam could ambush t hem. If t he t wo t eams made it all t he way t o t he object ive
undet ect ed, we would simply make our way down t o t he compound ourselves and help clear
t he t arget from all sides.
Most t imes, t he fight ers wouldnt st ay and fight when t hey saw us. Inst ead, t hey ran, t rying
t o hide in t he t ree line or escape int o neighboring valleys. To st op t hem, we set up a t eam on
t he high ground and let t hem wander int o our kill zone. Wed cut t hem down easily before t hey
had a chance t o escape.
The infilt rat ion rout e was about seven kilomet ers, not far, but only if you didnt account for
t he elevat ion change. My t eam would have t o do t he majorit y of t he hard climbing t hat night
because t he rout e t ook us direct ly up t he ridgeline. Knowing we had a very challenging climb
ahead, Id chosen t o dump my bullet proof plat es and only carry t hree ext ra magazines, a hand
grenade, my radios, and a med kit . We all t ried t o go as light as we could. We had a saying:
Light is right .
But when you dit ch your bullet proof plat es, you have t o be willing t o suffer t he
consequences. Aft er our surprise at t he landing zone, I was already second-guessing t hat
decision.
As we discussed t he plan wit h t he Army capt ain, I could feel t he soldiers eyes on us. To
t he clean-cut soldiers, we probably looked like bikers or Vikings.
Most of us had long hair by milit ary st andards. None of us had t he same uniform on;
inst ead we all had mismat ched pant s and shirt s. We also had fancy, four-t ube night vision
goggles, t hermal scopes, and suppressors on our rifles. We pret t y much had all t he lat est in
t act ical fashion. Each one of us was a professional who knew exact ly what t hey needed for
t he job, and it was up t o t he individual operat or t o carry what he needed.
Some of t hese guys arent even wearing t heir plat es, said one of t he soldiers.
The t roops RECCE t eam leader showed t he capt ain t he goat t rail on t he map. He was
going t o navigat e t he rout e for my t eam.
You guys been up t his goat t rail? he asked.
Ive seen it , he said. It is st raight up. What kind of t ime line are you on?
We want t o hit and be back before it get s light , t he RECCE t eam leader said.
There is no way youre going t o make it , t he Army capt ain said. The t errain is impossible,
and t here is no way you can do it in one cycle of darkness.
Since his unit lived in t he valley, we couldnt really argue. It was t heir backyard. Theyd
seen t he t errain in daylight .
You guys ever been up t here? t he t roop chief asked, point ing at t he t arget compounds.
The furt hest weve ever been is here, he said, point ing t o a spot not even halfway t o
where we want ed t o go. It t ook us six hours, and we made cont act and got int o a long
firefight . We had t o move back down out of t he valley.
We spent a few more minut es t alking about t he plan.
The t roop chief looked at me, St eve, and t he ot her t eam leaders.
What do you guys t hink?
This t arget was t oo good t o pass up. Even wit h t hree fewer assault ers and no dog, we st ill
had enough people t o clear t he object ive. The drones wat ching t he t arget report ed no major
movement s, so we st ill had t he element of surprise. We decided t o scrap t he plan of my t eam
going up t he goat t rail and we would all combine int o a single pat rol t aking t he road part of t he
way up t he valley, t hen split off and loop around t o t he high ground and assault t he t arget from
above.
Let s do it , I said when t he t roop chief looked t o me. St eve also nodded yes.
You guys are st ill going? t he capt ain said.
Yeah, t he t roop chief said, finally.
The at t ack on t he base t onight might be a great cover for act ion, t he Army capt ain said.
Why dont we send out a pat rol wit h you guys t agging along?
Hed t ake about t went y soldiers out and pat rol int o a nearby village t hat was just down
t he valley t o t he sout h. Wed follow along at t he back of his pat rol, before peeling off and
sneaking up int o t he t arget valley. If people were wat ching, and t hey were most likely doing so,
wed hope t hey would t ake t he bait and follow t he main body of t he pat rol.
You guys mind if we get some ammo before we go? t he t roop chief said.
Sure. Ill get it .
The capt ain st art ed t o organize a foot pat rol, while we went back t o brief t he guys wait ing
in t he out post s weight room. It had a few dumbbells, a weight bench or t wo, and a squat rack
wedged int o a room no bigger t han a small home office. Sandbags prot ect ed t he room, like t he
operat ions cent er, from mort ar at t acks.
I replaced t he few rounds I fired in my magazine and checked t o make sure my t eam was
ready. I could see Walt and Charlie loading t heir magazines as well. Walt was on St eves t eam,
and since arriving out of Green Team hed become t ight wit h St eve and me.
Id heard about Walt when he was coming t hrough Green Team. All of t he East Coast
SEALs seemed t o know him, and t hey kept an eye on him as he worked his way up t o t he
second deck.
No t aller t han my armpit , he had hair t hat was already shaggy and a t hick brown beard
covered his face. He was short , but his cocky swagger compensat ed for it . He had a healt hy
dose of lit t le-man syndrome and an inordinat e amount of body hair. It seemed like t he guy
could grow a beard in days.
Walt was supposed t o st art Green Team a year prior, but got in some t rouble and had t o
delay his plans for an ext ra year.
Walt and I got along almost immediat ely. He liked t o shoot and loved guns as much as I
did. One day on t he range, I invit ed him out t o t he SHOT show, a shoot ing, hunt ing, and
out doors t rade show in Las Vegas. Schedule permit t ing, we would go every year, t o meet wit h
vendors and see what kind of new guns and equipment were on t he market .
The first day of t he t rip, I int roduced him around t o all t he vendors. By t he second day, my
cont act s were asking me where Walt was hanging out . At a bar aft er t he show t he t hird night , I
found Walt holding court wit h execut ives from t he Nat ional Rifle Associat ion. He had a cigar in
his mout h, and he was slapping backs and shaking hands like he was running for office. They
all loved him.
Walt was t he lit t le guy wit h t he big personalit y.
The t eam had a quick huddle and I t old t hem t he goat t rail idea was scrapped. We were
now going t o pat rol up t oget her.
We are going t o go up t he main t rail and adjust as we get closer t o t he t arget , I said.
Any issues?
Everybody shook t heir heads no.
Nope, Charlie said. Were good.
It was like playing pickup basket ball. We knew what needed t o happen and all we needed
was t he basic plan. If you know how t o shoot , move, and communicat e, t he rest will fall int o
place. When operat ions get t oo complicat ed, it t ends t o slow t hings down. Every single man
st anding in t he weight room t hat night had years of experience. Plus, t he plan always changed,
so it was easiest t o keep t hings simple. Wed done t his before and t rust ed t he t eam.
The pat rol snaked out of t he gat e and st art ed down t he paved road t oward t he village. It
was a nice road, probably built wit h American t ax dollars. Less t han a kilomet er from t he gat e,
we slowly fell back from t he main group before t aking a right t urn and heading up our valley t o
t he west .
We followed t he road for t wo hours. It cut back and fort h, wit h each swit chback st eeper
t han t he last . Soon we came upon a clust er of cars. I could see a Hilux t ruck parked on one side
of t he road and t wo st at ion wagons wit h racks on t he roof. As I passed, I gazed int o t he
windshields. All of t he cars were desert ed.
This was as far as t hey could go.
It was t he end of t he road. The t rail narrowed and got st eeper as we pat rolled deeper int o
t he valley. Wit h every st ep I could feel t he alt it ude and t he weight of my equipment t rying t o
slow me down. I was get t ing t ired, and we were only halfway. I hoped all t his effort was going t o
be wort h it .
After anot her hour on t he t rail, I could see t he t arget compounds and at least t wo small
faint light s on near one of t he buildings. Clumps of t rees blocked most of my view. The
buildings were made of st one and mud and seemed t o emerge from t he valley walls.
Taking t he main road t he rest of t he way would have been easier, but we knew t here
were sent ries wat ching t he rout e. We couldnt risk being compromised. The drones cont inued
t o report roving pat rols in t he t rees around t he main road and compound.
Surprise was key. In most cases t he quickest way bet ween t wo point s in Kunar was a
goat t rail. Id heard t he same line in Alaska growing up. We had no choice but t o find anot her
way around. Nobody want ed t o be in t hat valley when t he sun came up.
Were going t o move direct ly up t he ridgeline and move our way around, I heard t he
RECCE t eam leader say over t he radio.
I could almost hear my legs scream, but we all knew it was t he right call. The RECCE
element was confident t hat if we shot st raight up t he ridgeline wed find t he original goat t rail
t hat my t eam was going t o use.
From t he road, we lit erally climbed up t he mount ain searching for t he goat t rail. Several
t imes I had t o t ight en t he sling on my weapon so I could grab boulders in front as I climbed. If I
wasnt pulling myself up t he side of t he mount ain, I was making my own swit chbacks as we
climbed. No one spoke, but I could hear my t eammat es grunt ing as t hey climbed.
We all saw t his as a juicy t arget . We were willing t o do it if we could get t he jump on t hem.
St ill, wit h every st ep, t he only t hought running t hrough my mind was t he t arget bet t er be wort h
it .
Aft er a couple of hours of climbing, we finally found t he goat t rail. My legs were beyond
sore now, and it was t ough t o cat ch my breat h because I was t ired. But making it t o t he t rail
gave us renewed hope. Wit hout a doubt our RECCE guys were t he best in t he business and if
it werent for t heir met iculous planning before t he mission t here is no way we would have ever
been able t o pull off t his operat ion successfully.
The goat t rail wasnt wider t han a foot and st raddled t he ridgeline. On one side was t he
cliff face t owering over us and t he ot her side was an almost st raight drop int o t he valley. We
didnt have t ime t o dwell on how a false st ep could send you sliding down a near-vert ical face.
We just spent an hour finding t he t rail, and dawn wasnt t hat far away, so t ime was of t he
essence.
We had t o move.
We finally caught a break when t he t rail empt ied us out int o a perfect posit ion slight ly
above t he t arget compound. There were t hree cent ral buildings wit h a court yard in t he middle,
and several addit ional small st ruct ures scat t ered around t he perimet er.
At t he foot of t he t rail were a series of fields cut like st airs int o t he rock face. It was
bet ween seasons and t he dirt was dry. Somet imes, t he fields were flooded and wed have t o
slog t hrough t he mud.
Set t ing up on t he t iers, my t eam t ook t he one t hat was level wit h t he main t arget
compound.
Alpha is set , I said over t he radio.
St eves t eam climbed up one t ier above my t eam and moved t o t he right flank.
Charlie is set , St eve said on t he radio.
Bravo t eam climbed down one t ier t o focus on t he sout hern compounds fart her down t he
hill.
Bravo is set .
I could feel t he adrenaline st art t o flood my body. I no longer felt t ired or sore. Each one of
my senses was height ened, and we were all on full alert . If everyt hing went according t o plan,
wed cat ch t he enemy by surprise. But if t hings went bad, wed be in a gunfight in close
quart ers.
Take it , t roop chief said over t he radio. Nice and slow.
We st art ed t o creep forward. Everyone was quiet , and each st ep was deliberat e. Not hing
got our blood pumping more t han creeping int o an enemy compound, somet imes direct ly int o
t he rooms of enemy fight ers while t hey were sleeping. This wasnt like ot her unit s t hat had t o
react t o a roadside bomb at t ack or ambush. This was deliberat e and calculat ed. Our t act ics
werent unique. What made us different was our experience level and knowing when t o t ake
violent , decisive act ion and when t o be pat ient and quiet .
I could feel my heart beat ing in my chest . Every sound was amplified. Wed t ake four or five
st eps and hold. Shouldering my weapon, I focused on my laser as it t racked from window t o
door t o alley searching for any movement . I could see my t eammat es lasers doing t he same
t hing.
Go slow, I t hought . Slow is quiet .
When I got t o t he first building, I t ried t he rust y knob of t he t hick wooden door.
Locked.
Charlie t ried t he same kind of door on t he building right next door. It was also locked.
There was no t alking. We didnt have any fancy Navy SEAL hand and arm signals. I just
nodded at Charlie, and we st art ed t o move around t he building t o t he ot her side t hat faced t he
court yard.
A small gat e led int o t he court yard. Walt reached up and cut t he cord t hat held up a sheet
t hat blocked t he way.
Moving inside, St eve, Walt , and t he rest of t he t eam st acked on mult iple doors across t he
court yard. I saw a RECCE sniper wit h a t hermal scope on t he roof st art ing t o scan for sent ries
in a dried-up creek bed t hat ran nort h t o sout h along t he perimet er of t he compounds.
My t eams point man led us t hrough t he same gat e, and we approached t he front door of
our building.
Walt t ried t he door of his building and it was unlocked. He slowly pushed it open and saw a
man messing wit h a flashlight . As Walt walked int o t he room t o subdue t he man, anot her man
sat up from under some blanket s. He was wearing a chest rack, and he had an AK-47 next t o
him. Walt and anot her SEAL who ent ered behind him opened fire, killing bot h men. Across from
Walt s room, St eve opened t he door t o anot her room and found a group of women and kids.
Leaving one member of his t eam in t he room, St eve led t he rest of his t eam t o a door fart her
down t he wall.
A RECCE sniper on t he backside of t he building St eves t eam was clearing was looking for
roving sent ries. As he scanned t he road t hat ran up t he valley, he saw a half dozen Taliban
fight ers grabbing for t heir guns t hrough a window. He immediat ely st art ed firing just as St eve
and his t eam reached t he door t o t he room.
Cracking t he door open, St eve could see t he fight ers scrambling for cover.
Frag out .
One of St eves t eammat es cracked t he door just wide enough t o t oss t he grenade int o
t he overwhelmed enemy fight ers. I heard t he muffle of t he explosion as shrapnel peppered t he
room, killing t he fight ers.
Just as we reached t he door t o our building, I could make out t he faint sound of a second
snipers suppressed rifle opening fire. A guard was sit t ing on a rock overlooking t he main road.
He had an AK-47 slung on his back and an RPG rest ing next t o him.
My point man pushed t he front door open and cleared int o t he first room. The house had a
dirt floor, and sacks of food, clot hes, and cans of oil lit t ered t he room. Out of t he corner of my
eye, I wat ched as t he point man opened fire. A fight er, gun in hand, was at t empt ing t o jump out
a back window and escape. The bullet s riddled his back and ass as he t umbled out of t he
window.
Out side, I heard one of Bravo t eams Squad Aut omat ic Weapon gunners, or SAW gunners,
go hot .
WHAAAAA!
The machine gun rounds echoed across t he valley. It caught me off guard because most
of us were using suppressors on our guns t o muffle t he sound.
Weve got movers coming from t he nort h, I heard over t he command net on my radio. We
were st art ing t o get report s t hat fight ers were headed t oward our posit ion from fart her up t he
valley. This t arget quickly escalat ed int o t hree separat e firefight s, and now we had report s of
addit ional fight ers advancing on our posit ion.
The SAW gunner and Bravo t eam cont inued t o maneuver just down t he hill from us. One
by one, Bravo t eam picked off at least five more fight ers as t hey t ried t o move int o fight ing
posit ions wit h RPGs and heavy machine guns. The SAW gunner fired anot her t hirt y-round
burst as he sprayed t he last sent ry hiding bet ween boulders in t he dried creek bed.
Wit hin minut es, I heard t he buzz of an AC-130. On t he radio, I could hear t he t roop
commander passing word t hat t he AC-130 was going hot on t he movers t o t he nort h.
Youve got t his, I t old my t eammat e.
I left him and anot her SEAL in t he building while Charlie and I cleared an alley t hat ran
bet ween t his building and t he one below it . The buildings were on t he same t iered st eps of
land as t he fields where we had ent ered.
The alley was narrow, and it was impossible t o see t he end because t he walls were
crowded wit h junk. I kept get t ing caught up in low-hanging clot hes lines st rung up bet ween t he
t wo buildings.
Wit h a narrow alley like t his, Charlie and I st ood on opposit e walls. I covered his side of t he
wall wit h my laser, and I could see his laser crossing t he alley ont o t he wall in front of me. It was
all an angles game.
We crept down t he alley, being as quiet as possible. The key was t hrot t le cont rol. Wed go
fast when needed, but t hen go back t o being slow and quiet . We were about halfway down t he
alley when Charlie opened fire.
POP, POP, POP.
I froze. I couldnt see what was in front of me. Charlie let loose a short burst and t hen
st art ed t o move forward. I glanced ahead for a split second t o see a fight er crumble against
t he wall t hree st eps ahead of me. As he hit t he ground, he dropped a shot gun.
Usually we wore about sixt y pounds of gear, including t hose ballist ic plat es t o prot ect us
from gunfire. Charlie wasnt wearing his plat es eit her.
When we cleared all t he way t o t he end of t he alley, we paused t o get our bearings.
If I get shot t onight , no one bet t er t ell my mom I didnt wear my plat es, I whispered t o
Charlie.
Deal, Charlie said. Same goes for me.
A short t ime lat er, we heard t he all clear call over t he radio. The t arget was secure, but
now we had t o do sensit ive sit e exploit at ion, which we called SSE. Basically, we shot pict ures
of t he dead, gat hered up any weapons and explosives, and collect ed t humb drives, comput ers,
and papers.
SSE had evolved over t he years. It had become a way t o rebut false accusat ions t hat t he
fight ers we killed were innocent farmers. We knew t hat wit hin a few days aft er t he raid, t he
village elders would be down at t he local NATO base accusing us of killing innocent civilians.
The kind of innocent civilians who we knew and could now prove carried RPGs and AK-47s.
The more SSE we provided, t he more proof we had t hat everyone we shot was guilt y.
We are on a t ime crunch, fellas, so make it fast , t he t roop chief said. Weve st ill got
movers t o t he nort h.
His voice was drowned out by t he sound of t he AC-130s 120mm shells landing a few
hundred met ers up t he valley. I checked my wat ch. It was well past four in t he morning. We
were running out of darkness, and since t he shoot ing st art ed t here was a st eady flow of
report s coming from t he drones alert ing us t o more fight ers coming our way.
Wit h t he phot os complet e, we piled all t he weapons and ammo in t he cent er of t he
court yard and set explosive charges on a five-minut e delay.
Wit h t he RECCE guys in t he lead, we quickly and quiet ly snuck back out t he way wed
come. As we raced away from t he compound, I heard t he explosion and saw a small fireball
light up t he court yard as t he fight ers weapons and ammunit ion were dest royed.
The walk back was easier t han t he walk up. We were high on t he adrenaline of what we
had just managed t o pull off. Several t imes along t he pat rol down t he hill we had t o st op and
direct some addit ional close air support on mult iple groups of fight ers who were searching for
us. We didnt want t o be in t he valley any longer t han we had t o, and definit ely not at daybreak.
Three hours aft er clearing t he compounds, we were back at t he base. The guys slumped
down along t he walls, exhaust ed. Everyone was smoked. We sucked down wat er, power gels,
pret t y much anyt hing we could get our hands on.
In t he operat ions cent er, we gave t he capt ain all of our SSE. He could show t he elders t he
evidence when t hey came down t o complain.
We had sevent een EKIA, t he t roop chief t old t he capt ain, meaning we killed sevent een
fight ers. We suspect anot her seven or eight dead from t he AC-130.
The Army capt ain was st unned as he looked at t he pict ures on his comput er. He and his
men rarely got a chance t o be on t he offensive against t he enemy. They were st uck prot ect ing
t he villages and t he roads leading int o and out of t he valley. It felt really good knowing t hat we
eliminat ed Taliban fight ers harassing t he out post .
On t he helicopt er back t o Jalalabad, I finally had t ime t o reflect on t he mission. Sit t ing near
t he ramp in t he dark, I was amazed t hat we were able t o pull off an operat ion as dynamic as
t his one wit hout t aking any serious casualt ies.
From t he pat rol up t he mount ain, t o t he assault , it was a t ext book raid incorporat ing all of
t he lessons we had learned from previous missions.
Inst ead of flying in and fast -roping down, we snuck in quiet ly.
Inst ead of blowing open all t he doors, we crept in and caught t he fight ers off guard.
Inst ead of yelling and crashing t hrough t he buildings, we used suppressors and kept t he
noise down when possible.
We used t heir t rails and t raveled light and we had beat en t hem at t heir own game. All in
all, we cleared an object ive wit h more t han a dozen well-armed fight ers wit hout t aking one
casualt y. The raid was proof t hat good planning and t he use of st ealt h was a let hal
combinat ion.
CHAPTER 9
Something Special in D.C.
I stood in my yard and ran my t oes t hrough t he grass and looked up int o t he blue sky.
It was t he early spring of 2011. Three weeks before, I had been st umbling over t he t hick
gravel t hat covers t he ground at t he American forward operat ing bases and t rying t o st ay
warm t hrough t he cold Afghanist an wint er. For mont hs, it was not hing but ice, snow, and mud.
Aft er const ant deployment s since Sept ember 11, 2001, t o one desert count ry or anot her, I had
grown t o appreciat e t he simple t hings like a nice green lawn.
I was glad t o be home.
The last deployment , for t he most part , had been slow. Wint er deployment s oft en were, as
fight ers moved back int o Pakist an t o wait for warmer weat her. My t hree weeks of leave were
winding down, and my t roop would be heading t o Mississippi t o t rain. I looked forward t o
get t ing back on my gun aft er t he break. It was one of t hose t rips where we could st ill unwind a
bit and just relax.
This would be t he first t rip in a long t ime t hat I wasnt going t o be shoot ing wit h St eve. His
t ime as a t eam leader was up. When we ret urned from t he last deployment , he t ransferred
over t o Green Team t o be an inst ruct or. There was no farewell speech. We got back, put our
gear away, and when St eve came back from leave he kicked off as an inst ruct or wit h t he next
class.
I was int o work early t hat morning t o get in a workout and get my kit t oget her for t he t rip,
when I ran int o St eve.
I need a break, St eve said. It has been a good run since Green Team, and wit h all t he
new rules it has t aken all t he fun out of t he job.
I hear you, I said. Got one more rot at ion as a t eam leader and t hen well see.
Everyone in t he squadron was a combat vet eran. The average guy had at least a dozen
deployment s. Even wit h t he pace and t he sacrifices of being away from family, most of us kept
coming back for more.
It s going t o be a short break, I said t o St eve. Youll be back soon as a t roop chief.
So we can bot h learn t he art of PowerPoint , St eve said.
Everyt hing in Afghanist an was get t ing harder. It seemed wit h every rot at ion we had new
requirement s or rest rict ions. It t ook pages of PowerPoint slides t o get a mission approved.
Lawyers and st aff officers pored over t he det ails on each page, making sure our plan was
accept able t o t he Afghan government .
We not iced t here were fewer assault ers on missions and more st raphangers, each of
whom performed a very limit ed dut y. We now t ook convent ional Army soldiers wit h us on
operat ions as observers so t hey could refut e any false accusat ions.
Policy makers were asking us t o ignore all of t he lessons we had learned, especially t he
lessons learned in blood, for polit ical solut ions. For years, we had been sneaking int o
compounds, cat ching fight ers by surprise.
Not anymore.
On t he last deployment , we were slapped wit h a new requirement t o call t hem out . Aft er
surrounding a building, an int erpret er had t o get on a bullhorn and yell for t he fight ers t o come
out wit h t heir hands raised. It was similar t o what police did in t he Unit ed St at es. Aft er t he
fight ers came out , we cleared t he house. If we found guns, we arrest ed t he fight ers, only t o see
t hem go free a few mont hs lat er. Oft en we recapt ured t he same guy mult iple t imes during a
single deployment .
It felt like we were fight ing t he war wit h one hand and filling out paperwork wit h t he ot her.
When we brought back det ainees, t here was an addit ional t wo or t hree hours of paperwork.
The first quest ion t o t he det ainee at t he base was always, Were you abused? An affirmat ive
answer meant an invest igat ion and more paperwork.
And t he enemy had figured out t he rules.
Their t act ics evolved as fast as ours. On my earlier deployment s, t hey st ood and fought .
On more recent deployment s, t hey st art ed hiding t heir weapons, knowing we couldnt shoot
t hem if t hey werent armed. The fight ers knew t he rules of engagement and figured t heyd just
work t heir way t hrough t he syst em and be back t o t heir village in a few days.
It was frust rat ing. We knew what we were sacrificing at home; we were willing t o give t hat
up t o do t he job on our t erms. As more rules were applied, it became harder t o just ify t aking t he
risks t o our lives. The job was becoming more about an exit st rat egy t han doing t he right t hing
t act ically.
Good luck, St eve said. Who knows what well see next year?
I laughed.
BB guns maybe, I said. Tasers and rubber bullet s?
The command was small enough t hat I would st ill see St eve oft en, even if wed miss him
on t he next rot at ion t o Afghanist an.
I quickly finished get t ing my kit ready and headed home. It was get t ing warm in Virginia
Beach. Not hot enough t o swim in t he ocean, but nice enough for short sleeves. I was hust ling
t o get some of t he t hings on my t o do list done before I left again.
The first one was new mulch for t he house.
When I got home, a beat -up old F-150 Ford t ruck was parked in t he driveway. The mulch
guy had a t arp laid out wit h a large mound covering it . Hed load up his wheelbarrow wit h a
pit chfork and deliver a load t o one of t he flowerbeds and t hen come back for more. It was a
one-man operat ion.
As he loaded up t he wheelbarrow, I walked over t o shoot t he shit . Id never met him, but
some of my t eammat es had recommended his work. Spreading mulch was somet hing I should
do myself, but wit h so lit t le personal t ime, it was easier t o pay for it .
Youre in t he t eams, right ? t he mulch guy said bet ween scoops.
Yeah, I said.
From t he look of him, he could have been a SEAL except for his long surfer haircut . He was
t all and wiry, and he had t at t oos covering bot h arms. He was wearing a rat t y surf T-shirt and
worn Carhart t pant s.
Figured, you look t he part , t he mulch guy said, set t ing down t he wheelbarrow. I just did
Jays house. You know him?
Hes my boss, I said. Were act ually headed out t o do some shoot ing next week.
Jay was my squadron commander, but I didnt know him t hat well. He had t aken over t he
squadron before t he last deployment . He didnt go out on missions wit h us very oft en, so I
never really worked wit h him. At his rank he was t ypically found running t he Joint Operat ions
Cent er (JOC) and helping us jump t hrough hoops t o get missions approved.
We somet imes called our officers t emps because t hey showed up for a few years before
moving on t o check anot her box on t heir career pat h. They bounced from one job t o anot her,
never spending enough t ime t o build t he kind of root s t he enlist ed guys did. We t ended t o st ay
wit h one t eam for a lot longer. Jay was my fourt h commanding officer since being at t he
squadron.
I guess hes been pret t y busy lat ely, t he mulch guy said.
I was surprised, since wed been off for t he last t hree weeks. Aft er a deployment , most
guys just want ed t o hide out . It was normal for someone at Jays level t o have work relat ing t o
mission coordinat ion and planning. It just seemed st range t hat Jay was already so busy since
we had been on leave.
What are you t alking about ?
I did his yard t he ot her day, t he mulch guy said bet ween loads. There is somet hing big
going on, and hes been up in D.C.
What ? I said, confused. Hes supposed t o go t o Mississippi wit h us in t wo days.
At t he t ime, t he Arab Spring was raging. Egypt had a new government and prot est s had
sprung up across t he Middle East . Civil war had gripped Libya, wit h rebels calling for NATO
support . Wit h hot spot s in Syria, not t o ment ion t he Horn of Africa and Afghanist an st ill
demanding at t ent ion, speculat ing on what could be spinning up was difficult .
We were briefed weekly on any exist ing or expect ed t hreat s worldwide. Our int elligence
depart ment went over each region in t he world, somet imes wit h a special emphasis on a
cert ain sit uat ion like Libya. The brief usually ended wit h t he lat est informat ion and missions in
Afghanist an and Iraq. The bet t er informed we were, t he more prepared wed be.
It wasnt uncommon for us t o spin up on a mission, conduct rehearsals, only t o wait for
decision makers in Washingt on t o approve it . Somet imes, like wit h Capt ain Phillips, wed go. But
most t imes, wed just wait and event ually st and down. Over t he years, most of us learned t o
keep our heads down and focus on t he t ask in front of us, and leave t he speculat ion t o ot hers.
It saved energy, if not hing else.
I wrot e off t he mulch guy and was t hankful I was a t eam leader and not an officer. Officers
get jerked around t en t imes more t han we do. Eit her way, I was ready t o go have some fun in
Mississippi.
This t rip t o Mississippi wasnt like t he t ime I spent down t here in Green Team. I didnt
have t o worry about picking a bot t om five or possibly being sent home for improper CQB. Wed
spend half t he day at t he range and t he ot her half running t hrough t he kill house working on
our skills and making sure everybody was in sync. We had several new guys in our t roop, and
we had t o make sure t hey were up t o speed.
No one really not iced t hat Jay and Mike, t he squadrons mast er chief, who is t he most
senior enlist ed SEAL in t he unit , werent t here. But t he mulch guys words were st uck in my
head. I wondered what was so special in D.C.
We came home on a Thursday. On t he way t o t he airport , I got a t ext message from Mike.
Meet ing 0800.
Mike was massive like Charlie, wit h t hick arms and a broad chest . He had been st at ioned
at DEVGRU for as long as I was in t he Navy. Like Jay, he didnt go out on many missions.
On t he way back, I found out some of t he ot her guys in t he squadron received t he same
message. Charlie called me t he night I got back int o t own.
You get t hat t ext ? he said.
Yeah. You got any scoop? Heard anyt hing? I said.
Nope. I know Walt got it t oo, Charlie said. I guess t here is some list .
Charlie rat t led off a few ot her names from t he list . It wasnt whole t eams, but senior guys.
I cant wait t o find out what t his is all about , I said. Sounds suspect .
I got t o t he command early t he next day and changed int o my working uniforma Crye
Precision t an desert pat t ern and Salomon low-t op running shoesand dropped my cell phone
in my cage.
The meet ing was in our secure conference room, which meant no phones. The conference
room was on a floor designat ed as a Sensit ive Compart ment ed Informat ion Facilit y, or SCIF.
Pronounced skiff, it s an area used t o process classified or t op secret informat ion. We had
special badges t hat got us t hrough t he securit y doors. The lead-lined walls kept out elect ronic
list ening devices.
Inside t he conference room, t he four flat -screen TVs were dark. There were no pict ures or
maps on t he wall. No one had any idea what t o expect . I grabbed a chair at t he circular t able in
t he middle of t he room. I saw Walt , Charlie, and Tom, my old inst ruct or from Green Team. He
nodded when he saw me.
Tom was St eves old boss. It was odd not seeing St eve. I had deployed wit h him for t he
past eight years. Even if t his was a wild-goose chase and we got jerked around, it was st ill
st range t o spin up on somet hing and not have St eve around. I had a feeling when t his t urned
out t o be not hing, he would have t he last laugh.
There were almost t hirt y people in t he room, including SEALs, an EOD t ech, plus t wo
support guys. Wit h us all crowded inside t he room, Mike sat down at t he t able and st art ed t he
briefing. Jay, t he squadron commander, was absent . Mike seemed a lit t le uncomfort able and
didnt provide a lot of det ail.
We are going t o do a joint readiness exercise, and were going down t o Nort h Carolina t o
t rain, Mike said, passing out a list of gear t o pack. I dont have a lot of informat ion. Just load
out your st andard assault st uff, and well t ell you more Monday.
I scanned t he list . Not hing on t he pageguns, t ools, and explosiveswas unique or gave
away what wed be doing.
How long are we going t o be gone? one of my t eammat es asked.
Unclear, Mike said. We leave Monday.
Do we have bert hing or do we need t ent s? Charlie asked.
Bert hing and chow will be provided, Mike said.
A couple of ot her guys asked similar quest ions, but Mike shut it all down. I st art ed t o raise
my hand t o ask a quest ion. I was curious how we were going t o be organized. Overall t here
was a lot of experience in t he room. Theyd drawn us from different t eams. On most t eams, t he
new guy usually carries t he ladder and t he sledgehammer. But looking around t he room, we
had all senior guys. It looked like some kind of dream t eam t hey were put t ing t oget her.
Before I got my hand up, Tom just looked at me and shook his head. I put my hand down.
Tom t ypically never got t oo spun up. I was usually a lit t le more vocal. My mind was spinning
wit h quest ions I want ed answered. Not knowing what we were going t o do grat ed on me,
especially wit h t he feeling we were just get t ing jerked around.
Let s worry about t he load-out , Tom said as we left . And well know more Monday.
We all knew what t o do and t he gear t o pack. I went down t o t he cages and found one of
my guys.
Hey, brot her, I said. I need t o borrow your sledge.
Senior guys grabbing gear like a sledgehammer was rare, which brought even more
quest ions from our t eammat es.
You got it , he said. But why again am I giving up my sledge?
I didnt have a good answer.
Were going on an exercise, I said. They called a bunch of us int o a meet ing t oday and
were going down t o Nort h Carolina. Theyre calling it a joint readiness exercise.
I wasnt any more convincing t han Mike. My t eammat e just looked at me wit h a what t he
fuck? expression on his face.
Back in our squadrons st orage area, we st art ed loading t wo ISUssmall, square shipping
cont ainerswit h our gear. It t ook most of t he day, and by quit t ing t ime t he cont ainers were
filled wit h t ools, guns, and explosives.
While we packed, speculat ion was rampant . Some guys figured wed be in Libya in a few
weeks. Ot hers bet on Syria or even Iran. Charlie, who seemed t o be mulling over all of t he
quest ions and non-answers, came out wit h t he boldest predict ion.
Were going t o get UBL, he said.
Since t here is no universal st andard for t ranslat ing Arabic t o English, we used t he FBI and
CIAs spelling of his name, Usama bin Laden, short ening it t o UBL.
How do you figure? I said.
Look, when we were asking t hem about t he plan, t hey said we were going t o a place
where t here is a base wit h infrast ruct ure, Charlie said. If we dont need any of t hese t hings,
were going back t o Iraq or Afghanist an. Somewhere t here is an American base. Id say were
going int o Pakist an and were basing out of Afghanist an.
No way, Walt said. But if we are, Ive been t o Islamabad. It s a shit hole.
Walt and I had already been on one wild-goose chase looking for Bin Laden and his flowing
whit e robes.
It was 2007 and I was on my sixt h deployment . This t ime, I was working wit h t he CIA at
Forward Operat ing Base Chapman in Khost Province.
Khost Province was one of t he places where t he hijackers who crashed int o t he World
Trade Cent er and t he Pent agon t rained. Al Qaeda and Taliban fight ers were const ant ly in t he
province, slipping easily in and out of neighboring Pakist an.
About midway t hrough t he deployment , t he whole squadron was called back t o Jalalabad
from mult iple bases t hroughout t he count ry. One of t he CIAs leading sources on Osama bin
Laden report ed he saw t he al Qaeda leader near Tora Bora. It was t he same place U.S. forces
almost capt ured him from in 2001.
The Bat t le of Tora Bora st art ed on December 12, 2001, and last ed five days. It was
believed Bin Laden was hiding in a cave complex in t he Whit e Mount ains, near t he Khyber
Pass. The cave complex was a hist orical safe haven for Afghan fight ers, and t he CIA funded
many of t he improvement s during t he 1980s t o assist t he mujahedeen during t he Soviet
invasion of Afghanist an.
U.S. and Afghan forces overran t he Taliban and al Qaeda posit ions during t he bat t le but
failed t o kill or capt ure Bin Laden. Now t he CIA source said he was in Tora Bora.
They saw a t all man in flowing whit e robes in Tora Bora, t he commander said. He is
back t o possibly make his final st and. This was 2007, and 9/11 was six years behind us. Unt il
t his point , t here was no credible int elligence t o his whereabout s. We all want ed t o believe it ,
but t he det ails werent adding up.
We were going t o fly int o Tora Borawhich sat on t he Afghanist an-Pakist an border,
bet ween Khost and Jalalabadand raid his suspect ed locat ion. It sounded great in t heory, but
t he operat ion was based on a single human source. Single-source int elligence rarely added up.
No one could confirm t he report , despit e dozens of drones flying day and night over Tora Bora.
The mission was set t o launch a few days aft er we arrived, but it kept get t ing delayed.
Every day it was a new excuse.
Were wait ing on B-1 bombers.
The Rangers arent in place yet .
Weve got Special Forces heading t o t he area wit h t heir Afghan part ner unit s.
It seemed t o all of us t hat every general in Afghanist an want ed a piece of t he mission.
Unit s from every service were involved. The night before t he operat ion was going t o launch,
t hey called Walt and me t o t he operat ions cent er.
Somet hing came up, and you t wo are going t o work wit h t he PakMil, t he commander
said. If we get squirt ers t oward t he border, we need you guys on t he PakMil side t o coordinat e
blocking posit ions.
Are we bringing our kit ? I asked.
Yeah. Bring all your op gear. You may be operat ing wit h t he Pakis.
Once on t he ground, we got word Walt had t o st ay in Islamabad because t he Pakist anis
only allowed one of us t o move forward. Since I was senior, t he mission fell t o me. An
int elligence officer and a communicat ions t ech joined me.
I spent t he bet t er part of a week in a small command cent er in a U-shaped building made
of concret e. I wat ched feeds from drones doing laps over Tora Bora and monit ored t he radio.
The night I got int o Pakist an, t he Air Force st art ed t heir bombing campaign leading up t o
t he t eams air assault int o t he area. My t eammat es landed in t he mount ains high above Tora
Bora and st art ed t o search t he area for Bin Laden and his fight ers.
I frequent ly called t he PakMil int o t he command cent er t o look at t he drone feed. Once,
t he drones spot t ed what looked like a camp near t he border. I could make out t ent s and
several men wit h guns walking around t he area. The men didnt appear t o be in uniform, but
t he PakMil officers said it was a border checkpoint .
It was awkward because I didnt know if I could t rust t he PakMil officers. Everyone had a
different st ory, and I was st uck in t he middle t rying t o keep it all t oget her. The int elligence
officer didnt help, and I felt like a polit ician t rying t o keep my host s and my bosses across t he
border happy.
Aft er a few days of t his balancing act , PakMil shut down my port ion aft er t he operat ion
t urned out t o be a dry hole. There were no squirt ers, and t he next day we headed home. Back
in Islamabad, I met up wit h Walt . He was ready t o go back t o Afghanist an.
For all t he t ime and effort , we essent ially bombed some empt y mount ains and my
t eammat es went on a weeklong camping t rip. There was no sign of any man in flowing whit e
robes. When we finally got back t o Afghanist an a week lat er, flowing whit e robes became an
inside joke for a bad mission.
This t raining exercise down in Nort h Carolina sounded like anot her bad mission.
But I wouldnt know unt il Monday. Unfort unat ely, I needed an ext ra day in Virginia Beach,
which meant t he whole t eam was heading down wit hout me. I hoped my delay wouldnt cost
me my slot on t he t eam, just in case it was somet hing big. I st ressed t o Mike t hat I could cancel
my plans and come down wit h t he t eam.
Dont sweat it , Mike said. Just come down Tuesday morning.
On Monday aft ernoon, I st art ed t ext ing Walt and Charlie, t rying t o get some scoop. Bot h
wrot e back basically t he same message:
Just hurry up and get down here.
They would have said somet hing if it was lame. The lack of response meant it was legit . I
didnt sleep Monday night .
I was up before dawn Tuesday morning. Speeding t hrough a pouring rain, I had t o force
myself t o slow down on t he rural roads. I knew somet hing good was on t ap, but I also didnt
want t o slide off t he road and wrap my t ruck around a t ree.
The t wo-hour drive on Tuesday morning felt like eight hours.
Finally rolling up t o t he gat e of t he t raining base around seven A.M., I met t he guard. From
t he out side, it looked innocent except for t he screens hung along t he fence t o block anyone
from looking inside.
Giving him my name, which was on t he list , I got my laminat ed securit y badges and headed
t o a building where t he t eam was based. I kept my window down aft er speaking wit h t he
guards. The base was t ucked int o a pine forest . The morning rain brought out t he scent of t he
t rees.
I was t hree hours early, but I didnt care. I was already a day behind. Not being t here almost
bot hered me more t han not knowing. There was no way I was going t o wait unt il lat e morning
t o get st art ed. I needed t o cat ch up.
A single-lane cement road led t o a gat e. Large t en-foot -t all wooden securit y barriers lined
t he road, making it impossible t o see inside t he compound. Pulling t hrough t he gat e, I st art ed
t oward t he parking lot in front of t wo 1970s-era t wo-st ory concret e buildings.
As I pulled up, I saw t wo of my buddies walking int o one of t he buildings. I gave a quick
honk and parked in a nearby space. They st opped and wait ed for me. A light rain was falling,
and I hust led over.
Youre early, t hey said. We just finished breakfast . What t ime did you get on t he road?
Early, I said, skipping right t o it . What do we have?
I want ed inst ant grat ificat ion.
You ready? one said, smiling. UBL.
No fucking way.
Charlie was right t he whole t ime. I couldnt believe it . Now all of t he t alk from t he mulch guy
made sense. Jay was in D.C. helping plan t his mission.
Yep, UBL, one guy said. They found him.
Where? I said.
Pakist an.
CHAPTER 10
The Pacer
They led me int o a conference room t hat served as t he operat ions cent er.
Lapt ops and print ers were set up on folding t ables. Maps of Pakist an hung on one wall,
including maps of a cit y called Abbot t abad. All of t he furnit ure was made of faux leat her, wit h
under-st uffed cushions and met al armrest s. The guys had pushed most of t he lounge furnit ure
t o one side next t o t he plast ic plant s t o make room for gear.
The room was empt y except for a few civilians from t he CIA working quiet ly. I t ried t o t ake
in some of t he maps and phot ographs, but it was all so overwhelming. I st ill couldnt believe
t hey finally found Osama bin Laden.
We had never had any good leads. He was like a spect er hanging over t he whole war. We
all dreamt about being on t he mission t o kill or capt ure him, but no one really t hought about it
seriously. There was t oo much luck involved. We all knew it came down t o being in t he right
place at t he right t ime, and walking int o t he operat ions cent er t hat Tuesday it appeared we
were all in t he right place. They had simply handpicked t he most senior guys in t he squadron
rat her t han pull an exist ing t roop.
Mike walked up and saw us in front of t he organizat ional chart . There were t went y-eight
names on t he list , including an EOD t ech. An int erpret er and a combat assault dog, named
Cairo, rounded out t he t eam.
Ali is a t erp from t he agency, Mike said. Terp was short for int erpret er. There would
also be four alt ernat es in case someone got hurt in t raining. We broke everyt hing down int o
four t eams, and Ive got you down as one of t he four t eam leaders.
Tom was also list ed as a t eam leader.
Youll be on Chalk One for t he infil, Mike said. Your t eam is responsible for t he
guest house, C1, t o t he sout h.
C1 was t he designat ion for t he guest house, a separat e st ruct ure from t he main house in
t he compound, which was where Bin Laden would most likely be living. Chalk One and Chalk
Two referred t o t he t wo helicopt ers t hat would carry us on t he mission.
I not iced Charlie and Walt were also in Chalk One, but on a different t eam. The mission
was organized so t hat bot h helicopt ers had t he same capabilit ies. Chalk One mirrored Chalk
Two. I had an officer on my t eam who would st ep in if Jays bird went down. Mike, our mast er
chief, count ed as part of my t eam, but once on t he ground he was t here t o direct t raffic and
keep us on t he t imeline.
The layout of t he t arget was st ill unfamiliar. I could see a diagram on one wall showing t he
compound and t he arrow-like shape of it s walls. I knew t he guest house was a peripheral
assignment ; Id be lying if I t old you for a split second I didnt wish I was going t o be part of t he
t eam t hat was t asked wit h going t o t he roof of t he main building, called A1. If all went as
planned t hey would be t he first t eam t o make ent ry int o t he t hird floor, where Bin Laden was
t hought t o be living. That wish quickly faded and I focused on what I was t asked wit h. There
was plent y of act ion t o go around, and I was just happy t o be a part of t he mission.
Check, I said, st udying t he chart . Is Will coming back for t his?
Will rounded out my t eam. He was assigned t o our sist er squadron, which was already
based in Jalalabad, Afghanist an. A self-t aught Arabic speaker, Will would be able t o
communicat e wit h Bin Ladens family.
Youll link up wit h Will in J-bad, Mike said. Ive got a meet ing now, but check out t he
model. They spent good money on t his t hing. The rest of t he guys should be back from
breakfast in a few minut es.
I walked out of t he operat ions cent er and poked around t he building, sipping a coffee. Our
I walked out of t he operat ions cent er and poked around t he building, sipping a coffee. Our
equipment was st rewn all over t he floor in a room just off t he foyer. Pelican cases wit h
weapons were open in one corner. Radios on chargers lined t he far wall next t o bags of t ools. A
chart print er was pushed int o one corner. Crowding anot her corner were several whit e boards
and easels wit h writ ing pads at t ached for not e t aking.
I found t he mock-up of Bin Ladens compound just out side t he doors t o t he main briefing
room. It sat on a five-foot -by-five-foot plywood base. It was made of foam; a massive wooden
box secured by several padlocks sat in t he corner of t he room. The box covered t he model
when it wasnt being used.
The model showed Bin Ladens house in amazing det ail, right down t o t he small t rees in
t he court yard and cars in t he driveway and on t he road t hat ran along t he nort h side of t he
compound. It also had t he locat ion of t he compounds gat es and doors, wat er t anks on t he
roof, and even concert ina wire running along t he t op of t he wall. Grass covered t he main
court yard. Even t he neighbors houses and fields were rendered in almost exact det ail.
Bet ween sips of coffee, I st udied t he t hree-st ory house.
The one-acre compound was on Kakul Road in a resident ial neighborhood in t he cit y of
Abbot t abad. The t own, nort h of Islamabad, Pakist ans capit al, was named for Brit ish major
James Abbot t . It is t he home of Pakist ans milit ary academy.
My ot her t eammat es were st ill eat ing breakfast , so I had t he model t o myself. I was eager
t o get st art ed, but I was st ill t rying t o wrap my head around what I learned t hat morning. We
were finally going aft er Osama bin Laden.
Osama bin Laden was born March 10, 1957, in Riyadh. He was t he sevent h of fift y
children. His fat her, Mohammed Awad bin Laden, was a const ruct ion billionaire, and his mot her,
Alia Ghanem from Syria, was his fat hers t ent h wife. Bin Laden barely knew his fat her. His
parent s divorced when he was t en years old. His mot her married again, and he grew up wit h
four st epsiblings.
In high school in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia, Bin Laden joined an Islamic st udy group t hat
memorized t he ent ire Koran. In high school, he was exposed t o fundament alist Islam and Bin
Laden grew his beard long like t he Prophet Muhammad.
Bin Laden married his cousin when he was eight een years old. They had a son in 1976, t he
same year Bin Laden graduat ed. He went t o King Abdulaziz Universit y in Jeddah and earned a
degree in public administ rat ion.
When t he Soviet Union invaded Afghanist an in 1979, Bin Laden relocat ed t o Peshawar,
Pakist an, and lat er Afghanist an. As a Muslim, it was his dut y t o fight t he invading Soviet s, he
claimed. He built camps and t rained mujahedeen, somet imes using aid from t he Unit ed St at es.
When t he war ended in 1989, Bin Laden ret urned t o Saudi Arabia, but was disgust ed by what
he considered t he corrupt royal government . In 1992, he spoke out against t he Saudi
government and was banished t o Sudan.
A year lat er, he formed al Qaeda, meaning t he foundat ion or t he base in Arabic. His
goal was t o st art a war wit h t he Unit ed St at es t o rally Muslims t o creat e a single Arab count ry
across t he Middle East .
His war against t he Unit ed St at es st art ed in 1996 when al Qaeda blew up a t ruck in Saudi
Arabia, killing U.S. t roops st at ioned t here. Under pressure from t he int ernat ional communit y, t he
Sudanese government exiled him, and Bin Laden fled t o Afghanist an and t he prot ect ion of t he
Taliban.
In 1998, al Qaeda became a household name when his group bombed U.S. embassies in
Kenya and Tanzania. The at t acks killed close t o t hree hundred people. He followed up t he
embassy at t acks by bombing t he USS Cole in Aden harbor in 2000. But his most decisive
blows were t he four at t acks on Sept ember 11, 2001. His followers killed almost t hree t housand
civilians in New York, Washingt on, and Pennsylvania. Aft er Coalit ion forces t oppled t he Taliban
in 2001, Bin Laden went int o hiding aft er narrowly escaping capt ure by Coalit ion forces at Tora
Bora in Afghanist an.
For t he last t en years, Coalit ion forces, including t he Unit ed St at es, had been hunt ing for
him along t he Afghanist an-Pakist an border. Besides t he 2007 spin-up, all of t he int elligence we
received had him hiding in Pakist an.
Soon, my t eammat es st art ed t o come in from breakfast . I was st ill st udying t he model
when Tom walked int o t he room. He was one of t he t eam leaders on Chalk One, and his t eam
was responsible for clearing t he first floor of t he main building, called A1.
They call him t he Pacer because he walks for hours. They keep seeing t he Pacer t here,
Tom said as he point ed t o a court yard on t he east side of t he compound. According t o what
t he int el folks are saying, he walks out in t he garden area t o exercise from t ime t o t ime. They
t hink t he Pacer is UBL.
Walt and Charlie came in next . They bot h had big grins on t heir faces.
You called it , I said t o Charlie. How did t hey find him?
One of his couriers, Charlie said. He has t wo guys working for him.
The day before, t he CIA had briefed my t eammat es on t he Road t o Abbot t abad,
essent ially how t hey found Bin Laden. In t he operat ions cent er, t here were several booklet s full
of int elligence about t he area and Bin Laden. While we wait ed for t he ot hers t o arrive from
breakfast , I st art ed t o read t he briefings. I was a day behind and want ed t o get up t o speed
before t he serious planning st art ed.
Public sources lat er confirmed t hat t he t arget compound, wort h close t o $1 million, was
built in 2005, close t o Pakist ans milit ary academy. It was much larger t han ot her houses in t he
area and didnt have a t elephone or an Int ernet connect ion. The walls were built higher on t he
sout hern side of t he compound t o prevent people seeing inside t he court yard. Those walls
blocked t he view of t he second and t hird floors. The windows on bot h t he second and t hird
floors of t he main building were blacked out so no one could see in or out .
There was no evidence t he Pacer had any cont act out side of t he compound. The
resident s burned t heir t rash and had very lit t le cont act wit h t heir neighbors.
One of t he people known t o live at t he compound was Ahmed al-Kuwait i.
The CIA learned of Ahmed al-Kuwait i aft er t he int errogat ion of a man named Mohammed
al-Qaht ani, a Saudi cit izen and t he alleged t went iet h hijacker on Sept ember 11, 2001.
Immigrat ion agent s barred him from ent ering t he Unit ed St at es in August 2001 because t hey
t hought he was t rying t o immigrat e illegally t o t he Unit ed St at es. Invest igat ors found out lat er
t hat Mohammed At t a, one of t he leaders of t he plot , was wait ing for him at t he Orlando airport
t hat day.
Al-Qaht ani was sent back t o Dubai only t o get capt ured in t he Bat t le of Tora Bora in
December 2001 and sent t o t he prison at Guant anamo Bay, Cuba. When his fingerprint s came
back as t he same man sent back by immigrat ion, int errogat ors went t o work over several
mont hs in 2002 and 2003.
Al-Qaht ani event ually t old t hem t hat Khalid Sheikh Mohammed, t he planner of t he
Sept ember 11 at t acks, sent him t o t he Unit ed St at es. He also admit t ed t o meet ing Bin Laden
and receiving t errorist t raining, and ident ified a man named Ahmed al-Kuwait i as one of Bin
Ladens couriers and right -hand men. Khalid Sheikh Mohammed, who was by t his t ime in
American cust ody as well, also acknowledged he knew al-Kuwait i, but st ressed t hat t he courier
was not part of al Qaeda.
Then in 2004, Hassan Ghul was capt ured. Ghul was a courier and al Qaeda agent . He t old
int elligence officials al-Kuwait i was close t o Bin Laden. When int errogat ors quest ioned Khalid
Sheikh Mohammed about it again, he downplayed al-Kuwait is role. Mohammeds successor,
Abu Faraj al-Libi, capt ured by t he Pakist anis in 2005, t old int errogat ors he hadnt seen al-
Kuwait i in a while. Since bot h Mohammed and al-Libi dismissed al-Kuwait is role when asked
about him, int elligence analyst s began t o believe he might be wit h Bin Laden.
The CIA knew t hat al-Kuwait i and his brot her, t hirt y-t hree-year-old Abrar Ahmed al-
Kuwait i, had worked for Bin Laden in t he past . The agency st art ed t o t rack Ahmed al-Kuwait i in
Pakist an, hoping he would lead t hem t o his brot her and t hen t o Bin Laden.
Then, during an int ercept ed call t o his family in 2010, one of his family members asked him
what he was doing for work. For t he most part , al-Kuwait i had been savvy and kept his
employer secret . So, when t he family member asked what he was doing for work, al-Kuwait i
said he was doing what he used t o do.
That subt le answer connect ed some dot s and provided a good st art ing point for t his
operat ion. It was all circumst ant ial evidence, but it was all we had t o go on.
The CIA st art ed t o t rack Ahmed al-Kuwait i, wat ching his pat t erns. They not iced he drove
a whit e t ruck wit h a pict ure of a rhino on t he spare-t ire cover. The CIA event ually t racked t he
t ruck back t o t he compound in Abbot t abad, which now sat in model-form in front of me.
The CIA assessment said Bin Laden lived on t he t hird floor of A1, t he main building. His
son Khalid lived on t he second floor. The CIA expect ed at least one or t wo wives and a dozen
kids. Kids are t ypically found at most t arget s we assault so t his was an issue we were very
familiar wit h.
Jay and Mike had helped plan t he missions broad st rokes in Washingt on weeks before,
but it was our job t o get int o t he weeds and really put t he plan t o t he t est . We knew our
capabilit ies bet t er t han anyone, and since we were being t rust ed t o execut e t he operat ion we
would also have a crit ical role in t he planning.
We all gat hered around t he model, as Jay and Mike st art ed t alking about where t he
planning was t o dat e. Since t he guys had been at it for t went y-four hours, t he broad st rokes of
t he plan had st art ed t o come t oget her.
Were going t o fly t o t he X, Jay said. Chalk One will rope int o t he court yard.
Moving over t o t he sout h side of t he model, Jay point ed at t he guest house, designat ed
C1.
Mark, you and your crew are responsible for C1, Jay said. Your t eam will move direct ly t o
t he guest house. The sniper will clear t he carport and t hen set up on t he roof. You guys will
clear and secure C1. Ahmed al-Kuwait i lives in t he house wit h his wife and kids. When youre
finished, move t o backfill Toms t eam in A1.
The remaining assault ers in Chalk One, led by Tom, would split up and make t heir way t o
A1.
Charlie and Walt will move t o t he nort h door of A1 and wait , Jay said. They t hink t he
Pacer t ypically uses t hat door. The CIAs assessment says t here is likely a spiral st aircase t hat
leads up t o his living quart ers on t he t hird floor.
Tom and his t eam would move t o t he sout hern door, ent er, and clear t he first floor. The
couriers brot her, Abrar Ahmed al-Kuwait i, was t hought t o live on t he first floor of t he building
wit h his family. Based on what Tom saw inside, his t eam would eit her clear t hrough t o t he
nort h door or let Charlie and Walt in. If blocked, t hey would exit and loop around t o t he nort h
door.
We have no idea of t he layout inside t he house ot her t han we suspect t hat t he house is
cut int o t wo living areas, Jay said. So Charlie and Walt will hold t heir posit ion unt il Tom gives
t hem t he all-clear t o breach.
Meanwhile, t he second helicopt ercarrying Chalk Twowould drop off a five-person
t eam nort h of t he compound t hat would act as ext ernal securit y. Two assault ers and t he CAD
(combat assault dog) would pat rol t he perimet er of t he compound. The dog would be used t o
t rack down squirt ers. The remaining t wo assault ers and t he int erpret er would posit ion
t hemselves just t o t he nort heast corner of t he compound t o deal wit h possible onlookers or
local police.
This ext ernal securit y job was act ually one of t he biggest and most dangerous posit ions
on t he raid. If we ran long on t arget , t hey would have t o deal wit h first responders, most likely
police, and t he t hreat of milit ary forces showing up. It wasnt t he sexy mission, but it was
absolut ely essent ial and could end up being t he most dynamic.
Once out er securit y is dropped off, t he helo will pick up and hover above A1 and t he
remaining assault ers are going t o rope ont o t he roof, make t heir way down ont o t he t hird-floor
balcony, and clear t he t hird deck.
If t he int elligence was correct and everyt hing went according t o plan, t hat was t he t eam
t hat was most likely t o encount er Bin Laden first .
The rest of t he brief Jay and Mike spent going over t he load plan. Finally t hey designat ed
several pro words for t he operat ion. Pro words are one-word messages t hat relay informat ion
in an efficient manner. This kept radio t raffic t o a minimum and made passing informat ion more
reliable. On t his mission, we chose pro words wit h a Nat ive American t heme.
UBL is Geronimo, Jay said.
The mission briefing t ook about an hour, and when we were done Mike and Jay left .
Now you guys shoot holes in t his, Mike said. Jay and I have been looking at t his for
several weeks now. You guys got it yest erday. Take some t ime and really get int o t he weeds.
We t ried never t o fall in love wit h a plan, because t hat breeds complacency.
The first t hing we t ried t o do was find an alt ernat e way t o approach t he t arget . No one
want ed t o fly t o t he X. Wed given up doing t hat years ago. We were more comfort able being
dropped off and pat rolling t o t he compound. Our t act ics had evolved over t he years int o being
as sneaky as we could so we could keep t he element of surprise unt il t he very last second.
The reconnaissance and sniper t eams st udied sat ellit e images, t rying t o find landing
zones wit hin four t o six kilomet ers of t he t arget , but none of t he rout es seemed t o work. The
compound was in a resident ial area. All of t he landing zones were eit her t oo close t o urban
areas or wed have t o walk down cit y st reet s. The risks of get t ing compromised during our infil
were t oo high. In t he end, flying t o t he X was t he lesser of t wo evils. It would be loud, but it
would be fast . We couldnt risk being compromised during t he foot pat rol.
Huddled in separat e corners of t he operat ions cent er, t he t eams got t oget her individually
t o plan t heir part . Beyond our personal gear, we st art ed t o divide up our t eam gear list a
ladder, a sledgehammer, and explosives.
Ill need t he ladder t o climb t he carport , t he sniper said. The collapsible ladder was heavy
and burdensome. Mike said hed carry it on his back during t he fast -rope so I can provide
bet t er securit y.
We posit ioned t wo snipers, one in each door of Chalk One, t o cover us as we roped int o
t he compound. We didnt need someone walking int o t he compound wit h an AK-47 and
shoot ing us as we slid down t he rope.
Since Will isnt here t o argue, he get s t he sledge, I said wit h a smirk. Ill carry t wo
breaching charges and a set of bolt cut t ers.
A breaching charge was a t wo-inch-t hick st rip of explosives. The charge was about t welve
inches long wit h a st rip of adhesive t hat ran along it s spine so we could st ick it t o t he door.
Once init iat ed, it would explode in about t hree seconds and usually t ear a door open by cut t ing
t hrough t he locking mechanism.
The goal of each t eam was t o be self-sufficient . The last t hing anybody want ed was t o
have t o call anot her t eam over t o help because t hey didnt have t he right equipment .
A woman from t he Nat ional Geospat ial-Int elligence Agency, a blonde in her early t hirt ies,
t ook care of t he maps and sat ellit e images for us. She provided any det ailbig or small.
Kneeling down t o look at t he mock-up, I st udied t he door leading int o t he guest house.
Hey, are t hese doors on C1 inward or out ward opening? I asked her.
She was back in a few minut es wit h t he answer.
Double met al door, she said. Opens out wards.
It was like t hat all week. If we had a quest ion, t hey had t he answer, including where t he
Pacer walked, who else lived on t he compound, which gat es were locked or unlocked, and even
where t hey frequent ly parked t heir cars. They had a huge number of images from drones and
sat ellit es, and t here wasnt much t hey didnt know about t he out side environment of t he
compound.
I n Washingt on, President Obama and his advisors were st ill discussing different opt ions.
The president st ill had not signed off on t he ground-assault opt ion. All we had been aut horized
t o do up t o now was t o st art planning and conduct rehearsals. The Whit e House was st ill
considering an Air Force opt ion, a massive air st rike using B-2 Spirit bombers t o level t he house.
Defense Secret ary Robert Gat es support ed t he air st rike because it kept American
ground forces out of Pakist an, which made t he mission less like an invasion of t he count rys
sovereignt y.
The Unit ed St at es didnt have a great t rack record when it came t o commando raids like
t he one we were planning. Since Operat ion Eagle Claw, t here was a lot of risk in put t ing t roops
in harms way in a sovereign count ry.
During Eagle Claw, one of six helicopt ers flying t o a desert st aging base in Iran before t he
raid hit a fierce sand cloud and crashed int o an MC-130E cont aining fuel. The fire dest royed
bot h aircraft and killed eight servicemen. The mission, one of t he first operat ions conduct ed by
Delt a Force, was abort ed. Eagle Claw was a disast er and cont ribut ed t o Cart er losing his
reelect ion campaign.
The air-st rike opt ion required t hirt y-t wo t wo-t housand-pound smart bombs. The barrage
would last for a full minut e and a half and t he crat er would penet rat e at least t hirt y feet int o
t he eart h in case t he compound had a bunker syst em. The possibilit y for collat eral damage
was high, and t he possibilit y of finding ident ifiable remains aft er t hat kind of dest ruct ion was
low.
If we were going t o conduct t his mission eit her wit h an air st rike or raid, t hey want ed proof
it was Bin Laden. The assault was risky, but t he air st rike added addit ional complicat ions.
A few days aft er we arrived in Nort h Carolina, we saw t he Pacer for t he first t ime.
St anding around t he comput er screen, we wat ched drone foot age of t he compound. The
feed was black-and-whit e wit h lit t le det ail. I could make out t he main building and t he
court yard t hat t ook up t he nort heast ern part of t he compound.
Aft er a few seconds, I saw t he Pacer ent er t he frame. From t he video feed, he looked like
an ant . There was no way we could make out his face or even how t all he was. But we could
see him walk out of t he nort h door and st art pacing in an oval clockwise around t he court yard.
A makeshift awning was rigged up t o cover him, but it only shaded part of t he garden.
He does t his for hours, one of t he agency analyst s said. Ive seen him walk by guys
doing work, but he never helps. He just paces.
Somet imes, he walked wit h a female or a child. None of t hem st opped t o do any work.
When a vet erinarian came t o t reat t he cow t hat lived in t he court yard, t hey moved it t o
anot her court yard for t reat ment .
We believe t he reason t hey moved t he cow is t hey dont want anyone t o see t hat side of
t he compound, t he analyst said. It s circumst ant ial, but it looks like t hey are hiding someone.
Hey, t ake a look at t his.
Clicking t o anot her days feed, we could see t he compound and t hen, from t he right side of
t he screen, a Pakist ani helicopt er flew over.
Where did t hat come from? I said.
A PakMil Huey, t he analyst said. Not sure where it came from, but it was leaving t he
milit ary academy.
We all st ared at t he screen, wait ing t o see if anyone in t he compound react ed. We didnt
see t he Pacer sprint t o a car and run. Inst ant ly, we all t hought t he same t hing. This meant he
was accust omed t o hearing helicopt ers.
We might act ually be able t o get on t he deck before t hey really figure out what is going
on, Charlie said.
With t he mission planned out , we began rehearsals.
The Black Hawk swooped over t he Nort h Carolina pine forest and came t o a hover over
t he compound. From my perch, sit t ing legs blowing in t he breeze just out side t he left door of
t he helicopt er, I could see t he life-size mock-up of Bin Ladens compound. Nest led in a remot e
part of t he base, t he pract ice compound was built t o scale using plywood, chain-link fence, and
shipping cont ainers.
Sliding down t he fast -rope, I landed in t he court yard and moved t o t he double doors at C1.
All around me, my t eammat es were racing t o t heir object ives. The roar of t he engines above us
made it hard t o t alk, but aft er t hree days of pract ice we didnt need t o t alk. The whole mission
had become muscle memory. Besides some t ime hacks t hat were called out over t he radio, t he
net was silent . Everyone knew t heir individual jobs. We had years and years of experience
among t he groups, so everyt hing moved smoot hly. This t arget wasnt any more complicat ed
t han hundreds of ot hers wed assault ed over t he years.
The rehearsals were less about t raining and more about selling t o t he Whit e House t hat
we could do it .
The level of det ail on t he mock-up was impressive. The const ruct ion crews at t he base
had plant ed t rees, dug a dit ch around t he compound, and even put in mounded dirt t o simulat e
t he pot at o fields t hat surrounded t he compound in Pakist an.
Aft er a few runs, we asked if t hey could add t he t hird-floor balcony and move some of t he
gat es t o bet t er simulat e t he layout of t he act ual compound.
Before t he next rehearsal, t he changes were made.
The const ruct ion crew didnt ask why and never said no. They just showed up and made
all request ed changes. Wed never been t reat ed like t his. All of t he bureaucracy was gone. If
we needed somet hing, we got it . No quest ions asked. It was a far cry from what we were
forced t o deal wit h in Afghanist an.
The only black hole in t he pract ice compound was t he int eriors. We had no idea what t he
inside of t he house looked like. It wasnt a big concern. We had years of combat experience,
and we could apply it t o t his problem. We had no doubt we could pull t his off; we just needed t o
get on t he ground.
St opping at t he door of t he cont ainer t hat simulat ed C1, I scanned inside before ent ering.
During t he real mission, I had no idea if Ahmed al-Kuwait i would be armed or if he had a suicide
vest . We ant icipat ed all of t he menBin Laden, Khalid, and t he t wo Kuwait i brot herswould
fight back.
Aft er we rehearsed t he best -case scenario, we st art ed running t hrough t he cont ingencies.
Inst ead of roping int o t he court yard, we landed out side t he walls and raided t he compound
from t here. We also pract iced t racking down squirt ers if someone ran from t he t arget before
t he assault .
Every single cont ingency was pract iced t o t he point where we were t ired of it . We had
never t rained t his much for a part icular object ive before in our lives, but it was import ant . The
mission was st raight forward, but t he ext ra preparat ion helped us mesh, since wed been drawn
from different t eams.
Aft er t he last rehearsals, we all met in t he operat ions cent er. Jay was t here wit h an
updat e.
Were headed home and t hen Monday we head out west for anot her week of t raining
and a full mission profile, he said.
I raised my hand.
Do we have any official word if t his t hing is approved yet or not ? I said.
Nope, he said. St ill wait ing on Washingt on.
I looked at Walt . His eyes rolled. It was t he hurry up and wait rout ine we had experienced
wit h t he Capt ain Phillips operat ion.
My money says we dont launch, Walt said as we left .
We flew out t o our t raining sit e early Monday. On Thursday, almost t wo weeks aft er we
got t he init ial t asking, we had our dress rehearsal.
The ent ire t eam and all t he planners gat hered in a massive hangar at t he base. On t he
floor was a map of east ern Afghanist an. A group of VIPs, headlined by Admiral Mike Mullen, t he
chairman of t he Joint Chiefs, and Admiral Eric Olson, commander of t he Special Operat ions
Command in Tampa and a former DEVGRU commander, sat in st ands near t he map wit h Vice
Admiral Bill McRaven.
McRaven has commanded at every level wit hin t he special operat ions communit y,
including DEVGRU. He impressed me. McRaven, t he t hree-st ar admiral at op t he Joint Special
Operat ions Command (JSOC), was t all, lean, and clean-cut . Most admirals look old or out of
shape, but McRaven looked like he could st ill get t he job done. He knew how t o work his level
and had a good handle on t he polit ics in D.C.
We were about t o execut e what was called a rock drill, and everyt hing from helicopt er
flight pat hs t o t he mock-up of t he compound was present on t he floor. A narrat or reading off a
script st art ed t he hour-and-a-half-long brief on Operat ion Nept une Spear.
The pilot s spoke first . They walked everyone t hrough t he flight pat h from Jalalabad t o t he
compound in Abbot t abad. They t alked about t he radio calls as well as any cont ingencies t hat
might arise in flight .
Finally, each assault t eam leader got up and briefed t heir individual t asks.
My t eam will fast -rope from Chalk One int o t he court yard, well clear and secure C1, t hen
backfill t he rest of t he t eams in A1, I said.
Most of t he quest ions from t he VIPs focused on t he perimet er t eam. There were a lot of
concerns about how our ext ernal securit y would handle onlookers.
What is your plan if youre confront ed by local police or milit ary? t hey asked t he t eam
leader.
Sir, we will de-escalat e if at all possible, he said. First using t he int erpret er, and t hen
using t he dog, and t hen visible lasers. As a last resort we will use force.
Toward t he end, a quest ion was raised about whet her or not t his was a kill mission. A
lawyer from eit her t he Depart ment of Defense or t he Whit e House made it clear t his wasnt an
assassinat ion.
If he is naked wit h his hands up, youre not going t o engage him, he t old us. I am not
going t o t ell you how t o do your job. What were saying is if he does not pose a t hreat , you will
det ain him.
Aft er t he brief, we loaded up int o t he helicopt ers and t ook off for one final run-t hrough. We
were going t o assault a mock compound so t he VIPs could wat ch. It was t he final hurdle. I knew
we had t o do it , but it felt st range t o be wat ched like t his. It felt like we were in a fish bowl. We
all agreed if jumping t hrough t hese hoops was going t o help us get approval, t he hassle was
wort h it .
One minut e from t he t arget , t he crew chief t hrew open t he door and I swung my legs out .
Grabbing t he rope, I could see some VIPs near t he t arget st aring up at us wit h night vision
goggles. As t he helicopt er st art ed it s hover over our fast -rope locat ion, t he rot ors kicked up a
maelst rom of rocks and dust , blast ing t he VIPs and forcing t hem t o run in t he opposit e
direct ion. I chuckled as I wat ched a few of t he women st agger away on t heir heels.
The rehearsal went off wit hout an issue on our end.
So, you t hink well get t he go-ahead? Charlie asked me aft er t he dress rehearsal.
Dude, Ive got no clue, I said. Im not holding my breat h.
The flight back t he next day was low-key. We were ready t o go. There was not hing we
could do now but wait .
CHAPTER 11
Killing Time
The sun was fading as I flashed my ID card t o t he guard at our base in Virginia Beach. He
saw my decal as I pulled closer and waved me t hrough. I passed a long line of cars heading
home for t he day.
I was a few hours early for our flight , but I was t ired of wait ing. It had been a long week at
home. When we are home t oo long, we get ant sy. It was East er, and I called my parent s t o
check in. We caught up, but I couldnt t ell t hem what I was really doing. While t he rest of
America was coloring East er eggs, we were sit t ing on t he biggest secret of our lives.
Aft er t he dress rehearsal out west , it all came down t o t he polit icians in Washingt on
making a decision. We made one more t rip t o Nort h Carolina t o conduct a last walk-t hrough of
t he compound, before ret urning t o find out wed finally got t en orders t o move forward and
st age in Jalalabad, Afghanist an.
We were all st ill very skept ical. Nobody was jumping up and down; everybody digest ed t he
news in t heir own way and went about t heir business. At least we were one st ep closer t o
act ually roping int o t he compound.
I parked my t ruck and grabbed my backpack. I could see some of my t eammat es walking
t oward t he headquart ers. Im sure we all had t he same t hought s running t hrough our minds.
Holy shit , I cant believe t hey act ually approved t his.
I t hink most of us were convinced t here was no way t his was act ually going t o happen. In a
way, it s a defense mechanism. That way, if it got t urned off at t he last minut e, we wouldnt be
t oo upset .
Yeah, what ever. Ill believe it when we are airborne, Walt said, walking wit h me int o t he
lobby of t he building.
This has a good chance if t hey are act ually sending us over, I said.
By moving us, t hey risked more and more leaks. The rest of our command definit ely knew
somet hing was going on. Even a t roop movement of t his relat ively small size could cause
spikes when a bunch of operat ors came t hrough Bagram on a non-scheduled rot at ion.
Inside t he t eam room, guys were eat ing a last -minut e snack before t he long flight . Some
just st ood around t alking. We were all dressed in jeans and but t on-up collared shirt s, our
normal t ravel at t ire. We looked like a bunch of guys going on vacat ion. If wed been carrying golf
clubs inst ead of rifles and night vision goggles, you might mist ake us for a professional sport s
t eam.
Ot her t han my equipment for t he raid it self, I was t raveling light , wit h only a few changes
of clot hes, my shower kit , and flip-flops. We werent st aying long. The plan was t o fly over,
spend t wo days get t ing acclimat ed, and conduct t he mission on t he t hird night .
Buses soon t ook us from our base t o a nearby airport . On t he t armac sat a massive gray
C-17 Globemast er. It s engines idled as t he Air Force crew did pre-flight checks. Already on
board were t he helicopt er mechanics. Nearby, a group of Nat ional Securit y Agency and CIA
analyst s kept t o t hemselves.
As we sat down, it felt comfort able, like a place wed been many t imes before. This was
t he same way we always went on deployment . Inside t he belly of t he aircraft , our equipment
and t he helicopt er crews t ools were st rapped t o t he deck. Seat s lined t he walls. I t hrew my
backpack on t he deck and fished out my nylon green jungle hammock. Looking around t he
cargo bay for a place t o hang it , I saw my t eammat es crawling around t he plane like ant s
looking for a comfort able spot t o st ret ch out . We were expert s in making t he flight as
comfort able as possible.
I at t ached my hammock bet ween t wo cont ainers holding gear. Ot her guys claimed spot s
I at t ached my hammock bet ween t wo cont ainers holding gear. Ot her guys claimed spot s
on t op of cont ainers or in t he open space bet ween t he seat s and t he cargo. Some of my
t eammat es pumped up camping mat t resses, but I was one of t he few who used t he hammock.
It was issued t o us for jungle missions, but I liked t hat it kept me off t he cold floor.
We had a nine-hour flight t o Germany and aft er a short layover anot her eight hours t o get
t o Bagram. Get t ing as much sleep as we could on t he flight was imperat ive.
The Air Force crew chased us back t o our seat s t o st rap in just before t akeoff. The only
open seat was next t o Jen, a CIA analyst . Slipping t he buckle of my seat belt int o t he clasp, I
felt t he plane st art t o t axi t o t he end of t he runway. Minut es lat er, we raced down t he t armac
and quickly climbed int o t he sky. Once we were level, guys st art ed t o pop Ambien and set t le in
for t he long flight .
I wasnt t ired, so I st art ed t o t alk wit h Jen. Id seen her around in Nort h Carolina, but we
hadnt got t en t o t alk at lengt h since we st art ed planning t he operat ion. I was curious t o get her
t ake on t hings since she was one of t he leading analyst s t hat helped in t he hunt for Bin Laden.
Honest ly, I asked Jen. What are t he odds it s him?
One hundred percent , she shot back, almost defiant .
Recruit ed by t he agency out of college, shed been working on t he Bin Laden t ask force for
t he last five years. Analyst s rot at ed in and out of t he t ask force, but she st ayed and kept aft er
it . Aft er t he al-Kuwait i phone call, shed worked t o put all t he pieces t oget her. I missed t he first
days brief, where Jen laid out how t hey t racked him t o Abbot t abad. In t he weeks since, she
had been our go-t o analyst on all int elligence quest ions regarding t he t arget .
Wed heard t he one hundred percent call in t he past , and each t ime it made my st omach
hurt .
Be careful wit h t hat shit , I said. When our int el folks say it is one hundred percent it , is
more like t en. When t hey say t en percent , it is more like one hundred.
She smiled, undet erred.
No, no, Jen said. One hundred percent .
One hundred percent like in 2007, I said.
Like me, she remembered 2007, when wed been spun up t o chase t he guy in whit e
flowing robes. Jen rolled her eyes and frowned.
That wasnt a good lead, she said, even t hough t he lead had come from a CIA source.
That whole t hing spun out of cont rol quickly.
It was nice t o hear t he CIA t ake even some of t he blame, alt hough you could pret t y much
t hrow a st ick in 2007 and hit someone responsible for t hat debacle. That mission had been
weighed down by t he t ypical problem of everybody want ing t o be involved. Already, t he
differences bet ween 2007 and now were apparent , which lent more credibilit y t o t he current
mission.
Jen wasnt afraid t o share her opinion wit h even t he highest officers, including Vice Admiral
McRaven. She had made it known in t he beginning t hat she was not a fan of t he ground-
assault opt ion.
Somet imes JSOC can be t he big gorilla in t he room, she said. Id rat her just push t he
easy but t on and bomb it .
This was a t ypical at t it ude out side of JSOC. There were a lot of hat ers not only from t he
big milit ary side but also from t he agency. Not everyone t rust ed us, because t hey didnt know
us.
Dont hold back, I said. Love us or hat e us, youre in t he circle of t rust now. Were all in
t his t oget her.
You mean t he boys club, Jen said. You guys are just showing up for t he big game.
She was right . This was her baby. Jen and her t eam spent five years t racking him t o get us
t o where we were now. We were just here t o finish t he job.
You guys did all t he hard work t o get us here, I said. Were happy t o have our t hirt y
minut es of fun and be done.
Ill admit , you guys arent what I was expect ing at all, she said.
See, I t old you youre in t he circle, I said.
It was dark when we landed in Bagram. We t axied t o a spot far from t he main t erminals at
t he base, t he ramp opened, and we saw a C-130 wit h it s ramp down and props t urning.
Bagram is t he main NATO base in nort hern Afghanist an. A massive base just nort h of Kabul, it
had grown int o t he size of a small cit y. Thousands of soldiers and civilian cont ract ors called t he
base home. Lit t le fight ing occurred out of Bagram. In fact , it had got t en so safe t hat now t he
only danger was get t ing a t icket for speeding on t he bases st reet s or for not wearing a
reflect ive belt at night . Spending any t ime at Bagram would make it t ough t o keep our secret .
Thankfully, we were headed t o Jalalabad. The runway t here was t oo small and couldnt
handle C-17s. JSOC arranged t he C-130 t o meet us. We didnt want t o risk going t o t he main
Bagram t erminal or t he chow hall and being seen. A whole t roop showing up out of cycle would
raise quest ions.
Gat hering our bags and shaking off t he Ambien, we walked silent ly off t he back of t he C-
17 and direct ly ont o t he C-130.
While we set t led int o t he orange nylon jump seat s t hat were hung near t he front of t he
plane, Air Force ground crews st rapped t hree of t he cont ainers wit h our gear int o t he back of
t he plane. The ramp closed, and we made t he one-hour flight t o t he base in J-bad.
The seat s on t he C-130 were uncomfort able. If you get st uck in t he middle row, you have
t o rely on t he guy behind you t o sit up, providing support , or you sink down, crushing your back.
If being able t o lay out in a hammock in a C-17 was first -class milit ary flying, t hen t he middle
seat in a C-130 was economy.
Landing in a C-130, even on a paved runway, was jarring. The wheels are close t o t he
fuselage, so it was like landing a roller skat e. Plus, it sounded like t he plane it self was hit t ing
t he t armac. I held on t o t he bar as t he plane swung around and st opped at t he main t erminal.
The crew chief lowered t he gat e, revealing buses wait ing t o t ake us t o t he JSOC compound.
Jalalabad airfield is locat ed just a few miles from t he Pakist an border. Home t o a number of
American unit s, including a force from JSOC, t he base is t he main st aging area for helicopt ers
operat ing in nort heast ern Afghanist an.
Larger t han t he smaller out post s t hat dot t he valleys along t he border, Jalalabad is part of
Regional Command East and it s from J-bad t hat unit s along t he border get supplies and mail.
It is home t o about fift een hundred soldiers as well as a number of civilian cont ract ors. Afghan
securit y forces help guard t he base.
The runway split s t he base in half. Soldiers live on t he sout h side of t he airfield. The JSOC
area had it s own chow hall, gym, operat ions cent er, and a number of plywood hut s. The
compound was home t o Army Rangers, DEVGRU, and support personnel.
Almost all of us had double-digit deployment s t o J-bad. Walking t hrough t he gat e, it felt
like home.
Whats up, brot her? Will said t o me when we arrived.
Hed already got t en word t hat he would be part of t he raid, and he was eager t o get read
in on t he plan.
Aft er put t ing our gear away, we met back at t he fire pit . Guys on previous rot at ions had
built t he brick-and-mort ar pit , which had become a de fact o t own square for t he compound.
Each deployment we added t o it unt il it looked like t he pat io of a frat ernit y house. Shit t y
couches purchased out in t own were usually crowded wit h guys drinking coffee, smoking
cigars, or just bullshit t ing. The couches rot at ed as oft en as we did. Made in Pakist an, t he
cheap st uffing in t he cushions couldnt handle our t wo-hundred-pound frames for long.
The SEALs already on t heir scheduled deployment in Jalalabad got briefed on t he plan
during our flight over. They heard rumors somet hing was spinning up, but no one knew any
det ails unt il t he brief.
Because Will spoke Arabic, he was t he only member of his squadron select ed t o go wit h
us on t he assault . The rest of his t eammat es would be t he quick react ion force or QRF, loaded
in t wo CH-47 helicopt ers wait ing t o be called in t o help if t he t eam at t he compound ran int o
t rouble. They were also t asked t o set up a forward air refueling point (FARP) nort h of t he
compound. Using t he massive CH-47 helicopt ers, which were basically flying school buses, t he
QRF would carry inflat able fuel bladders so t he Black Hawks carrying t he assault t eams could
st op for much-needed gas on t he ret urn flight t o Jalalabad.
You seen t he mock-up? I asked Will.
We went int o a briefing room near t he operat ions cent er and I undid t he padlocks. Will
helped me lift t he wooden cover off.
Wow. This is nice, he said, leaning over it t o look closely at t he mock-up.
Will looked like your average SEAL. He was about five foot t en inches t all wit h a lean
physique. The t hing t hat made him different was t he fact t hat he had t aught himself Arabic.
He was ext remely smart , professional, and a man of few words.
The SEAL t eams were a very close-knit communit y. It felt odd showing up t o do t his
mission when everyone knew t he squadron t hat was already deployed could have pulled it off
just as well as we could. The only reason we were t asked wit h t his mission was because we
were available t o conduct t he needed rehearsals t o sell t he opt ion t o t he decision makers at
t he Whit e House. Every squadron at t he command was int erchangeable. It came down t o
being at t he right place at t he right t ime.
So, give me t he rundown, Will said.
OK, were in Chalk One, I said. Our bird will be t he first t o approach from t he sout heast
and hold st at ion here.
I point ed at t he court yard.
Well rope in and clear t his building, which were calling C1, I said.
It was pret t y st andard st uff, and it didnt t ake Will long t o fall int o st ep. For t he next
several hours, we went over t he whole plan and all t he cont ingencies. I t old him about all t he
rehearsals leading up t o t his point . This was Wills first t ast e of t he ext ensive planning t he rest
of us had been dealing wit h for weeks. Spending t hree weeks rehearsing for a mission was
very odd. Typically, in Afghanist an or Iraq, we would get t asked wit h a mission, plan it , and
launch in a few hours.
The head shedour headquart ers st affcont inued t o work on big-pict ure planning and
coordinat ion. Wit h our gear ready, all we had t o do was wait .
By rule, most of us had at t ent ion deficit disorder, or at least we joked t hat we did. We
could focus on t hings, but not for long, and wait ing was t he worst . Walt const ant ly gave me a
hard t ime. I couldnt even sit t hrough a movie.
Like t he ot her guys, we all had our own met hod t o our madness when it came t o how we
set up our gear. Everyt hing was checked and t hen rechecked. All of t he bat t eries in my night
vision and laser sight s were fresh. My radios sat on t he charger. Everyt hing was neat ly set out
in order. Boot s and socks next t o my folded uniform. My kit , a vest t hat held t wo ballist ic plat es
and pouches for ammunit ion and gear, rest ed next t o my H&K 416 at t he end of my bed.
I t ook my t ime laying out my gear, but by midnight , or luncht ime for us, we st ill had hours t o
kill. During t hat kind of downt ime, wed go t o t he gym. Some guys made coffee, but not inst ant
French press. One guy brought a Pelican case wit h a press, grinder, and an assort ment of
coffees t hat would make St arbucks blush. Id cat ch t hem making t he coffee. One cup could
t ake an hour. Theyd grind t he beans and t hen press t he coffee. Wit h great care, t heyd boil
t he wat er and t hen sit by t he fire and sip t he coffee. It was all a part of t heir rit ual, and t he t ime
t hey spent obsessing about t he coffee meant fewer minut es t o sit and wait . Every one of us
had developed some met hod for killing t ime. We had t wo days before t he mission was
scheduled t o launch, if it was approved.
The next day, I went wit h Will and t wo of his t eammat es over t o t he hangar t o meet t he
pilot s. We had already worked wit h t he aircrews from t he 160t h Special Operat ions Aviat ion
Regiment during our rehearsals.
We worked wit h t he 160t h almost exclusively. In our eyes, t hey were t he best pilot s in t he
world.
Teddy, a short , fift y-year-old man wit h close-cropped hair who was t he pilot of Chalk One,
met us at t he hangar door. We walked around t he Black Hawk and showed Will t he load plan.
Then, before we left , we t alked about cont ingencies.
If t hings go bad and I have t o make an emergency landing, I am going t o do my best t o
put her down in t hat open court yard t o t he west , said Teddy.
We called it Echo court yard, and it was t he largest open area on t he compound. A
seasoned pilot , Teddy knew t hat if his helicopt er was hit by enemy fire or malfunct ioned, t his
court yard was his best opt ion.
Dont worry t hough, I said. Weve had our share of wrecks. If anyone is going t o crash it
will be Chalk Two.
Id never been in a crash, but seven out of t he dozen SEALs on my chalk had been in
some form of crash in t he past . Only t wo of t he men on Chalk Twos bird could say t he same
t hing. We joked t hat t he law of averages should keep our bird in t he air.
The window of opport unit y t o launch was short . The illuminat ion cycle would st art
increasing t he following week. We wouldnt have t hese t ypes of opt imal condit ions again for a
mont h. Plus, wit h everyt hing in place, t he longer we held off, t he great er t he concern t hat t he
mission would leak. In t he t hree weeks since we st art ed planning, t he number of people who
knew about t he operat ion had expanded exponent ially.
JSOC was ramping up it s act ivit y. McRaven was in Afghanist an, which isnt news in it self,
but t he fact t hat he was heading t o J-bad caused a bit of a st ir. A Ranger colonel ran daily
operat ions out of our command cent er in Bagram. Event ually, he was read in on t he mission,
adding more and more people who knew what was spinning up.
Back in Washingt on, t he main concern seemed t o be confidence in t he int elligence. Unlike
Jen, her fellow analyst s were only about sixt y percent cert ain Bin Laden lived in t he compound.
In Afghanist an, we were oblivious t o t he hand-wringing in Washingt on. We had daily
briefings. Drones flew over t he compound keeping wat ch. We also had t o bat t le t he good idea
fairy. She shows up on all our missions t o some degree or anot her, and she isnt our friend.
The fairy shows up when t he head shed has t oo much t ime on t heir hands. Essent ially, officers
and planners st art dreaming up unrealist ic scenarios t hat we may have t o deal wit h on a
mission.
They want us t o t ake a bullhorn for crowd cont rol now, t he t eam leader in charge of
out er securit y said. This ranks right up t here wit h t he police light .
Earlier, t he head shed had float ed an idea for t he out er securit y t eam t o t ake one of Bin
Ladens cars and affix a police light t o it t o make t he act ivit y around t he t arget look like a police
operat ion.
So I said, Hey, sir, are we just going t o push it out t here? We arent going t o have t he
keys, t he t eam leader said. What if t he st eering wheel locks? Plus, which t eam has t ime t o
push a car out of t he driveway and all t he way down t o t he st reet corner? And let s not forget
t hat we will now have a flashing police light highlight ing our posit ion.
What color are police light s in Pakist an? I said.
No idea, he said. That was my next quest ion. Then we got int o a half-hour discussion
about Ali. Ali was t he CIA int erpret er on ext ernal securit y. He spoke Pasht un, which was used
in t he local area. The good idea fairy want s him in local civilian clot hes. Hes going t o be
st anding bet ween a SAW gunner and me. Were in uniform, so what does it mat t er?
Logic won out in bot h bat t les. We didnt carry t he police light and Ali was in uniform.
This kind of st uff always happens when planners get int o t he weeds. The CIA asked us t o
t ake a sixt y-pound box t hat blocked cell phone signals. Weight was already an issue, so t hat
good idea died quickly. If we had all t he t ime back we wast ed fight ing t he fairy, we might regain
a few years of our lives.
On t he second night , I sat at t he fire pit sipping on some fresh coffee wit h Charlie and
Walt . The debat e of t he day was over where in t he body you should at t empt t o shoot Bin
Laden.
Try not t o shoot t his mot herfucker in t he face, Walt said. Everybody is going t o want t o
see t his pict ure.
But if it s dark and I can only see his head, Im not wait ing for a suicide vest , Charlie said.
These will be some of t he most viewed pict ures of all t ime, I said. If given t he opt ion, all
Im saying is shoot for t he chest .
Easier said t han done, Walt said.
Remember t o aim high, I said t o Walt . Since you only come up t o his nut s.
Wed already decided t hat Elijah Wood had Walt s role in t he movie, since he was no t aller
t han a hobbit .
Cast ing t he Bin Laden movie was an ongoing joke. Who was going t o play whom in
Hollywoods version of t he mission? No one was get t ing Brad Pit t or George Clooney. Inst ead,
we had a red-haired guy on t he t eam so Carrot Top would port ray him for sure. At least Walt
had Frodo inst ead of a second-rat e comic.
You know if t his goes, well get Jay his st ar, I said.
Everyone knew t hat for t he officers, like Jay, if t he raid was successful it would be a career
maker. It would most likely mean Jay would make admiral some day. For t he enlist ed guys, it
really didnt mean anyt hing; t o us it was just anot her job.
And well get Obama reelect ed for sure, Walt said. I can see him now, t alking about how
he killed Bin Laden.
We had seen it before when he t ook credit for t he Capt ain Phillips rescue. Alt hough we
applauded t he decision-making in t his case, t here was no doubt in anybodys mind t hat he
would t ake all t he polit ical credit for t his t oo.
We all knew t his was bigger t han us and bigger t han polit ics. Maybe t he officers and
polit icians would benefit , but t hat didnt make us want t o do it any less. That was always how
t hings went . Our reward was doing t he job, and we wouldnt have it any ot her way.
Near dawn, t he fire pit broke up and we all went and t ried t o get a few hours of sleep.
Since we operat ed at night , t he majorit y of t he populat ion on t he JSOC compound slept all
day.
I popped t wo Ambien. No one was get t ing any rest wit hout sleeping pills. No mat t er how
much we t ried t o make t his mission just like t he ot hers, it wasnt . It had been t wo days, but it
felt like mont hs.
The t hird day was supposed t o be go day, but cloud cover delayed our launch. No big
deal for us. We always get delayed, so we expect ed it . Get t ing delayed was bet t er t han
get t ing canceled. McRaven want ed t o make sure drones could wat ch t he compound in case
Bin Laden left while we were in rout e, and t he cloud cover made t hat impossible.
Our daily briefs were held in a long, narrow room wit h wooden handmade benches running
down t he middle like a church. At t he front of t he room were flat -screen TVs for PowerPoint
present at ions and t o show us drone foot age or sat ellit e phot os.
Todays briefing was st anding room only. I was seat ed next t o Charlie near t he back on
one of t he benches. I saw several of t he SEALs from t he ot her squadron wedged around t he
model, which st ill demanded your at t ent ion when you saw it . They were st udying it int ent ly
before t he briefing. It was amazing how it sucked you in and youd find yourself fixat ed on it .
A port ion of t he briefing was about what t o do if t he mission went drast ically wrong and
t he Pakist ani aut horit ies somehow apprehended us.
The president had already given us t he green light t o prot ect ourselves, even if we had t o
engage t he Pakist an milit ary. We were going deep int o Pakist an, and we needed a reason
ot her t han t he t rut h in case we were det ained.
OK, guys, t he officer said. Here is what t hey came up wit h. Were on a search and
recovery mission for a downed ISR plat form, he said.
An ISR plat form is what t he milit ary calls a drone. Essent ially, we were going t o have t o t ell
t he Pakist ani int errogat ors t hat t he Unit ed St at es Air Force lost a drone.
We all laughed.
That is as good as t hey can come up wit h? someone said from t he back of t he room.
Why dont t hey give us a bullhorn and a police siren just in case?
The st ory was prepost erous. We were allies wit h Pakist an on paper, so if we did lose a
drone, t he St at e Depart ment would negot iat e direct ly wit h t he Pakist ani government t o get it
back. The st ory didnt wash and would be very difficult t o st ick t o during hours of quest ioning.
At least we could laugh at it . Maybe t hey figured humor would help us endure. The t rut h is,
if we got t o t hat point , no st ory we could come up wit h was going t o cover up t went y-t wo
SEALs packing sixt y pounds of hi-t ech gear on t heir backs, an EOD t ech, and an int erpret er for
a t ot al of t went y-four men, plus a dog, raiding a suburban neighborhood a few miles from t he
Pakist ani milit ary academy.
At t he end of t he brief, t he commanding officer of DEVGRU came walking in. A capt ain
wit h silver hair and a must ache, hed lost his leg in a parachut e accident years ago. As he
walked t o t he front of t he conference room, I barely not iced t he slight hit ch in his st ep from t he
prost het ic limb.
The officer briefing us faded int o t he background as t he commander got t o t he front . All of
t he laughing and grumbling about t he cover st ory receded, and t he room was silent .
OK, guys, t he DEVGRU commander said. Just got off t he phone wit h McRaven. He just
t alked t o t he president . The operat ion has been approved. Were launching t omorrow night .
There were no cheers or high fives. I glanced back at some of t he fellas sit t ing on t he
benches around me. The guys Id operat ed side by side wit h for years.
Holy shit , I t hought . I didnt t hink it was really going t o happen.
No more briefs.
No more good idea fairy.
And most of all, t here was no more wait ing.
CHAPTER 12
Go Day
I couldnt sleep.
Id spent t he last couple of hours t rying t o get comfort able. But I found no peace on t he
hard mat t ress or in my own head. It was go day, and t here was no get t ing around t he
significance of t he mission now.
Sliding open t he camouflage poncho liner hung over my bunk t o shield t he light , I swung
my legs out and rubbed my eyes. Aft er t hree days of t rying not t o t hink about t he mission, it
was impossible t o keep it from my mind now. If everyt hing went as planned, in less t han t welve
hours wed be roping int o Bin Ladens compound in Pakist an.
I didnt feel t ired. The only evidence Id slept was t he empt y baggie t hat once held a couple
of Ambien and a handful of empt y bot t les now filled wit h urine. Since we lived in overflow
housing, it was a t wo-hundred-yard walk t o t he nearest bat hroom. So I saved my empt y wat er
or Gat orade bot t les t o piss in inst ead. St andard pract ice. Wed flip on our headlamps and
relieve ourselves wit hout every t ruly waking up.
I felt fresh physically, but ment ally I was amped up. Not on edge, but rest less. The hurry
up and wait rout ine was grat ing on my nerves. We were all just happy t he wait was almost
over.
Careful t o be quiet since some of my t eammat es were st ill sound asleep, I slid from t he
bunk and got dressed. I could hear t he faint snores of t he ot hers in t heir rooms. Grabbing my
sunglasses, I walked out of t he hut and int o t he daylight . The sun hit me like a sledgehammer.
It felt like walking out of a casino in Vegas aft er playing all night .
It t ook me a second t o adjust , but soon t he lat e aft ernoon sun felt good on my face and
arms as I st art ed walking t oward t he chow hall. I looked at my wat ch. For t hose of us on t he
compound on vampire hours, it was morning.
For t he rest of t he base, it was t he middle of t he workday. The const ant roar of
helicopt ers provided t he sound t rack. As I walked, a shit -sucking t ruck passed by aft er cleaning
a bank of Port a-Johns on t he camp. The pungent chemical smell of t he disinfect ant hung in
t he air as it passed.
I kept my head down and walked on t he gravel t hat kept t he dust down t o t he first gat e.
Each unit changed t he combinat ion on t he gat e when t hey arrived. I fished a slip of paper out
of my pocket wit h t he code. My head was st ill cloudy from t he Ambien. Pressing t he numbers, I
t ried t he doorknob.
No luck.
It t ook me t hree t ries t o get out , but I was finally on my way.
Just get t hrough breakfast , I t hought .
I was back t o surviving Green Team. I knew if you focused on t he whole t hing, you cracked.
The only way t o survive was get t ing t hrough t he day one meal at a t ime. Now, hours before
t he biggest mission of my career, I was just focused on get t ing t o breakfast .
It was success one st ep at a t ime.
Inside t he chow hall, I washed my hands under a blast of cold wat er. The st ench of greasy
fried cafet eria food was so t hick it clung t o your clot hes. The chow hall st ill had old holiday
decorat ions past ed on t he concret e wall. A long-faded 1970s post er of t he four food groups
t ook up most of t he bullet in board next t o t he menu of t he day.
I surveyed t he long st ainless-st eel buffet s. Behind each one, in an apron and hat , was a
civilian cont ract or ready t o serve me a scoop of grit s or pile bacon on my plat e.
Not hing looked good. The bacon was more fat t han meat , and soggy from t he grease. But
I needed energy. I headed st raight for t he grill, where a small line was formed. A short -order
cook was poised behind t he flat t op. Scooping up a but t ery omelet folded int o a greasy mess,
he slid it on t he plat e of t he guy in front of me.
Four eggs, I said as t he cook looked at me. Scrambled please. Ham and cheese.
While t he cook st art ed on my eggs, I got some t oast and fruit . The select ion was t he
same on every deployment : large t rays of unripe dark orange cant aloupe and honeydew wit h
an almost chemical green color. During my last rot at ion, I had seen a box in t he chow hall
marked FOR MI LI TARY OR PRI SON USE ONLY. Seemed about right .
No one joins t he milit ary for t he food.
I grabbed t wo pieces of bread and ran t hem t hrough t he rest aurant -grade t oast er and
piled some pineapple ont o my plat e. You cant screw up pineapple. Back at t he grill, I picked up
my eggs and st opped t o scoop some oat meal and raisins int o a bowl.
I surveyed t he t ables arranged in long rows in t he dining area. The murmur of
conversat ions, coupled wit h t he big-screen TV t ucked in t he corner t uned t o cable news,
creat ed a dull roar. I saw a few of my t eammat es at a t able far from t he TV and dropped off my
t ray on my way t o get coffee.
The chow hall was for JSOC personnel only, but not everyone knew about t he mission.
As I sprinkled some pepper on my eggs, I mut t ered a hello t o my t eammat es, including
Charlie and Tom. They ret urned t he greet ing, but like me, no one want ed t o t alk. We were
more comfort able alone wit h our t hought s.
How did you sleep? I said.
Like shit , Charlie said.
You t ake any Ambien?
Two, he said.
Look at t he bright side, at least were enjoying t his glorious breakfast . It s like t he buffet at
Hot el del Coronado.
The hot el was one of t he oldest resort s on t he Pacific Coast , not far from where wed all
gone t hrough BUD/S.
Right , Charlie said. Is t hat all you can come up wit h?
I was t rying t o be funny, but it was t oo early. Charlie always gave me shit about my weak
jokes. I knew t hey sucked, but it was part of t he fun.
Beyond t hat , t here was no t alk of home. No t alk of t he mission. There was not hing more t o
cover. The food wasnt good, but you wouldnt have known by looking at our plat es when we
were t hrough.
I doubt any of us really t ast ed breakfast . It was just fuel for lat er. Aft er my eggs and fruit , I
forced down t he bowl of oat meal and finished a glass of orange juice. Walking back t o my
room, I was st uffed. I didnt know when Id eat next .
The rooms were st ill quiet when I got back. Some of my t eammat es were t rying t o sleep
unt il t he last minut e, but I was t oo amped. Get t ing my t oot hbrush and a bot t le of wat er, careful
not t o grab my piss bot t le, I walked out t o a t hick gravel area off t o t he side and brushed my
t eet h and spit on t he ground.
Breakfast , check.
Brushed my t eet h, check.
Back in my room, I st uffed my t oot hbrush back int o my backpack.
Id already laid out my Crye Precision Desert Digit al combat uniform. Designed like a long-
sleeved shirt and cargo pant s, t he uniform had t en pocket s, each wit h a specific purpose. The
shirt was designed t o wear under body armor. The sleeves and shoulders were camouflaged,
but t he body of t he shirt was t an and made of a light weight mat erial t hat wicked sweat away.
Id chopped t he sleeves off of my shirt because it was hot .
Sit t ing on my bed, I st art ed t o get dressed. Not hing I did from t he moment I st art ed put t ing
on my pant s was random.
Every st ep was carefully planned.
Every check was a way t o focus and make sure I didnt forget anyt hing.
These were t he same st eps I did before every mission.
Before I slid my pant s on, I rechecked each pocket on my uniform.
In one cargo pocket , I had my assault gloves and leat her mit t s for fast -roping. The ot her
cargo pocket had an assort ment of ext ra bat t eries, an energy gel, and t wo power bars. My
right ankle pocket had an ext ra t ourniquet and my left one had rubber gloves and my SSE kit .
In a pocket on my left shoulder, I felt t he $200 cash Id use if we got compromised and I
needed t o buy a ride or bribe someone. Evasion t akes money, and few t hings work bet t er t han
American cash. My camera, a digit al Olympus point -and-shoot , was in my right shoulder
pocket . Running along t he back of my belt , I had a Daniel Winkler fixed blade knife.
I t ucked my shirt in and picked up my kit and inspect ed it again. The ceramic plat es
covered my vit al organs in t he front and back. I had t wo radios mount ed on eit her side of t he
front plat e. Bet ween t he radios, I carried t hree magazines for my H&K 416 assault rifle and one
baseball-size fragment at ion hand grenade. I also had several chemical light s rigged t o t he front
of my vest , including t he infrared version t hat can only be seen using night vision. Wed crack
t he plast ic light s and t hrow t hem in front of rooms and areas t hat we had cleared. The light s
were invisible t o t he naked eye, but my t eammat es could see t hem t hrough t heir night vision
and know what areas were secure.
My bolt cut t ers rode in a pouch on my back, wit h t he t wo handles st icking a lit t le ways
above my shoulder. At t ached t o my vest were t he t wo ant ennas for t he radios.
Running my hands over my kit , I t ugged on t he breaching charge I rubber-banded t o t he
back of it . I next focused on my helmet . It weighed less t han t en pounds wit h t he night vision
goggles at t ached. It could officially st op a nine-millimet er round, but in t he past t he helmet s
had st opped AK-47 bullet s. I swit ched on t he light at t ached t o t he rail syst em t hat runs down
t he side of t he helmet . It was a brand-new Princet on Tec charge light . Id used it in my last
deployment .
I set t he helmet on my head and pulled down my night vision goggles, or NVGs. Unlike
some of t he convent ional unit s, we had NVGs wit h four t ubes inst ead of t he usual t wo. This
allowed us a field of view of 120 degrees inst ead of just 40 degrees. The st andard goggles
were like looking t hrough t oilet -paper t ubes. Our NVGs allowed us t o clear corners more easily
and gave us great er sit uat ional awareness. Swit ching on t he $65,000 goggles, my room was
bat hed in a green hue. Wit h a few adjust ment s, I could see t he furnit ure in crisp det ail.
Finally, I picked up my rifle. Pulling it int o my shoulder, I t urned on my EOTech sight .
Mount ed behind it was a 3X magnifier, which allowed me t o shoot more accurat ely during t he
day. Aiming at t he wall near my bunk, I t est ed my red laser, which was visible t o t he naked eye,
and I flipped down my NVGs and t est ed t he IR laser.
Pulling t he bolt back, I chambered a round. I performed a press check by sliding t he bolt
back and inspect ing t he chamber t o make sure a round was seat ed. I double-checked t o make
sure it was on safe, and I rest ed t he rifle back against t he wall.
Wit h my gear checked and ready, I pulled a small laminat ed booklet our cheat sheet for
t he missionout of a small pouch in t he front of my vest and flipped t hrough it again.
The first page was a mini grid reference guide, or GRG. It was an aerial image of t he
compound wit h all of t he main areas labeled and t he buildings numbered. Everyone worked off
t he same GRG, from t he pilot s t o t he QRF t o t he people in t he operat ions cent er.
There was a list of radio frequencies on t he following page. The last sect ion had a list of
t he names and phot os of everyone expect ed on t he t arget . I st udied t he pict ures of t he al-
Kuwait i brot hers, spending ext ra t ime on Ahmed al-Kuwait i, since he was t hought t o be living in
C1. Each page not only had pict ures but also vit al st at s like height , weight , and any known
aliases. The final page had a pict ure of Bin Laden and several renderings of what he and his
son could look like now.
Wit h my camouflage uniform on and my gear ready t o go, I grabbed my Salomon Quest
boot s and pulled t hem on. They were a lit t le bulkier t han t he low-t op t rail-running shoes my
t eammat es somet imes wore. I swore by t hese boot s because t hey prot ect ed my baby ankles,
which I t wist ed wit h great frequency. I had climbed t he mount ains in Kunar Province and
pat rolled t hrough t he desert s of Iraq in t hese boot s. All of my gear was proven and had been
vet t ed on previous missions. I knew it all worked.
It finally hit me as I laced up my boot s. This could be my last t ime doing it . What we were
about t o do was significant . Wed fought hard t o keep hist ory out of our minds. We were doing
our jobs and t his was just t he next mission. The t ask was t o assault a house and capt ure or kill
a t arget . It didnt mat t er t o me who it was supposed t o be, but as I t ied my laces, it st ruck me
t hat maybe it did mat t er. There was no escaping t he significance, and I want ed t o make sure
t he laces didnt come undone.
For t he last hour, Id considered t he smallest t asks. Everyt hing had t o be perfect . I t ied t he
loops of my laces down in a double knot and t ucked t hem int o my boot t op. In t he middle of t he
room, I hoist ed my sixt y-pound vest over my head and let it rest on my shoulders. I t ight ened
t he st raps, basically sealing myself in bet ween t he plat es. I t ook a second t o make sure I could
get t o everyt hing. Reaching above my head, I could grab bot h handles of t he bolt cut t ers. I
t ouched t he breaching charge over my left shoulder.
I connect ed t he ant ennas t o my radios and put on my bone phones, which sat on my
cheekbones. These would allow me t o hear any radio t raffic t hrough bone conduct ion
t echnology. If I needed, I could also put in an earbud t o cancel out t he ambient noise and allow
sound t o t ravel direct ly int o my ear canal.
In my right ear, I would hear t he t roop net . On t he t roop net , I would hear all of my
t eammat es communicat ing wit h each ot her. My left ear would monit or t he command net ,
which would let me communicat e wit h t he ot her t eam leaders and t he head shed.
As a t eam leader Id need t he t wo separat e net s, but t he realit y was t here wasnt going t o
be much t raffic on t he command net for t his object ive. Only t he officers were going t o be
t alking on t he sat ellit e radios, and most of t he radio t raffic on t he t arget would be t hrough t he
t roop net .
All of my checks were done. Id complet ed my st eps t o prepare for t he mission. I t ook one
last look in t he room t o make sure I didnt forget anyt hing, and headed out t he door.
The sun was set t ing. Around me I could hear t he ot hers get t ing ready t oo. There was
lit t le t alking, but you could hear guys moving around, checking t heir equipment or packing up
t heir bags. The door t o t he building banged against t he doorframe wit h a st eady rhyt hm as
guys moved in and out .
We were set t o must er at t he fire pit in a few minut es. As I got closer, I could hear t he
t hundering beat of a met al band blaring out of some speakers. I met up wit h my t eam, and we
found a spot and wait ed for McRaven t o show up. Hed request ed some t ime t o t alk wit h us
before t he mission.
You ready? I asked Will.
He nodded.
Looking around, I could see Walt , Charlie, and t he ot hers wait ing wit h t heir own t eams.
Only hours before, wed been hanging out and laughing about who would play us in t he movie.
Now, everyone was serious.
McRaven showed up wit h lit t le fanfare. As he walked up, we all gat hered around.
His speech focused on t he st rat egic level, somet hing he was more comfort able t alking
about . Not hing he said really st uck wit h me, as my mind was focused on what was about t o
happen. As he left , word was passed t o move out .
Everybody on t he Black Hawks t ake buses one and t wo, I heard one of t he support guys
yell. Buses t hree and four are going t o t he fort y-sevens.
The buses were lined up and already running. On board, I wedged myself int o a seat near
t he middle. Will crammed in next t o me. The buses were old and dust y. The vinyl seat s were
worn from years of t ransport ing assault ers in full gear t o t he flight line.
The bus didnt drive as much as it ambled. The shocks were worn from carrying all t he
ext ra weight , so every bump shot t hrough our legs and backs. The ride t ook only a few
minut es, but it felt much longer.
Aft er a while, I could see massive spot light s set up facing out ward near t he hangar where I
knew t he Black Hawks wait ed for us. It looked like a st ar exploded, and it was impossible t o see
inside t he globe of light . A generat or hummed in t he background as we got off and walked
behind a fence t hat surrounded t he hangar.
Inside, t he helicopt er crews were making final checks. The noise from t he rot ors made
conversat ion impossible. I snuck off t o t he fence t o t ake one last leak. When t he helicopt ers
were ready, I saw some of t he support crew push open t he gat e, and t he helicopt ers rolled out .
I nodded t o a few guys on Chalk Two, flashing t hem t he middle finger wit h a smile. We
separat ed in silence. Anyt hing said was lost in t he rot or wash, but t he gest ures all said t he
same t hing.
See you on t he ground.
There was not hing more t o say.
We formed up on eit her side of t he helicopt ers. I looked at my wat ch. We had t en minut es.
I found a spot by t he t armac t o lie down. I rest ed my head on my helmet and looked at t he
st ars. For a second, I just relaxed. Finally, t he crew chief signaled us t o load up.
I was one of t he last t o get on board, since I would be t he first one down t he rope. Aft er
everyone else had loaded up, t here was a small spot by t he door, next t o Walt and t he sniper
who would cover us as we fast -roped down. Wedging my ass in as best I could, it was already
cramped. I checked my weapon t o make sure it was on safe. When youre crammed int o a
helicopt er wit h lit t le room t o move, t he last t hing you need is for your weapons safet y t o get
kicked off inadvert ent ly.
I cradled my helmet in my lap t o make sure my night vision goggles didnt get damaged.
Flipped up, t hey looked like ant lers on t he helmet .
Once t he door clicked shut , t he helicopt er picked up and hovered for a few seconds
before set t ing back down. Then, right on schedule, t he helicopt er leapt from t he t armac. I could
feel t he nose dip down as we picked up speed. Once we cleared t he airfield, t he Black Hawk
banked t o t he right and headed for t he border.
The cabin was dark and crowded. I could feel Walt s knees dig int o my back when he
moved. The radio in my ear was silent . I could see a faint glow from t he cont rols in t he cockpit ,
but not hing out side t he window. It was pit ch-black.
About fift een minut es int o t he flight , t he first message crackled over t he t roop net .
Crossing t he border.
I guess were act ually doing t his, I t hought .
Soon, my head was bobbing as I dozed. As we got closer t o Abbot t abad, I could hear t he
pro words for t he different checkpoint s come over t he t roop net . But each t ime, I slipped back
t o a light sleep.
Ten minut es.
That shook me from my daze. I wiped my eyes and wiggled my t oes t o st art working t he
circulat ion back. I must have slept more t han I t hought , since t he t en-minut e call seemed t o
come quickly. I t hink most of t he guys on t he helicopt er act ually caught some much-needed
sleep on t he ride in.
Six minut es.
All t he hype was gone and it was just anot her night at work for us. I pulled on my helmet
and snapped t he chinst rap closed. Pulling my NVGs down over my eyes, I made sure
everyt hing was in focus. I pulled t he gun t ight ly t o my chest so it didnt get hung up when I
roped out , and checked t he safet y one last t ime. It was st ill dark in t he cabin, but I knew
everyone else was making t he same checks.
One minut e.
The crew chief slid t he door open. I slid t he Fast Rope Insert ion/Ext ract ion Syst em (FRIES)
bar int o place. The fast rope was connect ed t o t he FRIES bar, which allowed it t o fall cleanly t o
t he ground. The bar was held in place wit h a pin at it s base. I ran my hand along t he bar and
made sure t he pin was seat ed. The crew chief checked it as well. I gave t he rope a hard t ug t o
make sure it was secure and t hen slid my legs out over t he edge of t he helicopt er and int o t he
breeze.
I grabbed t he rope and t ried t o lean out far enough t o see ahead of us. Several of t he
houses we passed over had light ed pools and manicured gardens behind t all st one walls. I was
used t o seeing mount ains or villages made up of clust ers of mud hut s. From above,
Abbot t abad reminded me of flying over t he suburbs in t he Unit ed St at es.
I leaned out t he door and finally caught a glimpse of t he compound. The flight from
Jalalabad had t aken about ninet y minut es and we would be arriving well aft er midnight . It was
pit ch-black and none of t he light s in t he surrounding houses were on. It seemed like t he whole
block was wit hout power. Rolling blackout s in t he area were common.
The engine noise changed as t he helicopt er st art ed t o hover. Once over t he
predet ermined fast -rope point , I could t hrow t he rope. The hover was rough and it was
apparent t he pilot s were having t rouble holding st at ion. It felt like t hey were wrest ling t he
helicopt er, t rying t o force it t o cooperat e. My eyes flicked from t he ground t o t he crew chief,
wait ing for t he helicopt er t o get int o posit ion so I could t hrow t he rope.
GO, GO, GO ran in a loop in my head.
The pilot s never had an issue holding a hover during rehearsals. Somet hing was wrong.
We all desperat ely want ed out of t he helicopt er and ont o t he ground.
Were going around, I heard over t he t roop net .
Shit , I t hought . We havent even got t en on t he ground yet and we are already going t o
plan B.
Suddenly, t he helicopt er kicked t o t he right ninet y degrees and I could feel my st omach
drop like riding a roller coast er. The rot ors above me screamed as t he Black Hawk t ried t o claw
it s way back int o t he air. Wit h each second, t he helicopt er slipped closer t oward t he eart h.
From my side of t he helicopt er I could see t he compound rushing up at us t hrough t he open
door.
I st ruggled t o find a handhold and slide back int o t he cabin. There was lit t le room behind
me as all my t eammat es had pushed forward prepping t o fast -rope. Then I felt Walt s hand
grab my gear and pull me deeper int o t he cabin. His ot her hand shot out and grabbed t he
sniper next t o me. I leaned back wit h all my st rengt h. My legs kicked t he air as I t ried t o get
t hem inside. I knew if my legs were exposed when we hit , t hey would get pinned or cut off.
The closer we got t o t he ground, t he angrier I became. Each and every assault er had
sacrificed so much t hroughout t heir individual careers t o get t o t his point . We all felt ext remely
lucky t o have been chosen for t his mission and now we were about t o die wit hout even get t ing
a chance t o do our part .
Fuck, fuck, fuck, I t hought . This is going t o hurt .
CHAPTER 13
Infil
My body was t ense and my abs screamed as I t ried t o fold my legs int o my chest .
All I could see was t he ground coming up at me t hrough t he large open door. Helicopt ers
are not like airplanes t hat can glide in for a crash landing. When helicopt ers st op working, t hey
fall out of t he sky like a rock. When t hey hit , rot or blades snap off, sending shrapnel and debris
in all direct ions. Sit t ing in t he open door, I feared t he cabin would roll, crushing me underneat h.
I could feel Walt t ugging on my kit , pulling me back inside t he cabin. No mat t er how much I
pulled my legs close, t hey were st ill out side t he door. The sniper next t o me was st uck wit h one
leg inside t he cabin and t he ot her out side of it .
It is hard t o describe t he feeling of riding a helicopt er int o t he ground. I dont t hink my mind
fully grasped what was happening. I had it in my mind t hat maybe I could st ay in t he door like a
Looney Tunes cart oon charact er. You know, when t he house falls off t he cliff and t he
charact er escapes by opening t he front door. For a split second I figured t hat when t he
helicopt er hit and rolled, Id land in t he door and be safe.
The privacy wall around t he compound quickly passed by as we headed for t he ground.
When t he helicopt er rot at ed ninet y degrees, t he t ail rot or barely missed t he wall on t he
sout h side of t he compound. I could feel fear grip my chest as t he ground rushed t oward me. I
had no cont rol, and I t hink t hat scared me most of all. I always figured I would probably die in a
gunfight , not in a helicopt er crash. We were all used t o st acking t he odds in our favor. We knew
t he dangers. We did t he bat t lefield calculus and we t rust ed our skills. But clinging t o a
helicopt er, t here was not hing we could do.
Seconds before impact , I felt t he nose dip. I held my breat h and wait ed for impact . The
helicopt er shuddered as t he nose dug int o t he soft ground like a lawn dart . One minut e, t he
ground was rushing up at me. The next minut e, I was at a dead st op. It happened so fast , I
didnt even feel t he impact .
The blades didnt snap off. Inst ead, t he rot ors blast ed t he muddy court yard, blowing dust
and debris and creat ing a maelst rom around us.
I exhaled and blinked t he dust out of my eyes. Squint ing against t he assault of rocks and
dust , I realized we were st ill about six feet above t he ground at a st eep angle.
Get t he fuck out , Walt yelled at me, shoving me forward.
I dropped from t he cabin and landed in t he court yard in a crouch. Despit e wearing more
t han sixt y pounds of gear, I didnt feel t he weight or t he jolt from t he fall. Wit hout looking back, I
ran forward like an Olympic sprint er away from t he wreck. Sliding t o a halt about t hirt y yards
away, I t urned back and saw t he wreckage for t he first t ime.
When t he helicopt er crashed, t he t ail boom got caught up on t he t welve-foot privacy wall.
The t ails single load-bearing sect ion propped t he Black Hawk up and kept t he rot ors from
hit t ing t he ground. If any ot her part of t he helicopt er hit t he wall, or if we had t ipped and t he
rot or hit t he ground first , none of us would be walking away unscat hed. Teddy and his copilot
had somehow pulled off t he impossible.
I could see my t eammat es dropping out of t he cabin and dashing t hrough a gap
underneat h t he helicopt er as it rest ed at an angle against t he wall.
Like my t eammat es, I had got t en good at compart ment alizing st ressful sit uat ions over my
career, and now I had t o block t he crash out . Two minut es ago, I was pissed we were going t o
land out side t he compound, but now we were alive and on t he ground inside t he walls. Despit e
t he near-disast er t he mission was st ill on t rack.
My t eammat es were already headed t o t he gat e t hat led us back int o t he main
compound. I needed t o get my ass in gear because if Charlie or Walt saw me st anding t here
compound. I needed t o get my ass in gear because if Charlie or Walt saw me st anding t here
while t hey were already moving t o t heir posit ions I would never hear t he end of t heir shit -
t alking.
We had scheduled t hirt y minut es t o complet e t he mission based on t he helicopt ers fuel
consumpt ion and a possible response t ime from t he Pakist anis. We had built in an addit ional
t en minut es of flext ime just in case. Running back t oward t he helicopt er, I figured we needed
t hose ext ra minut es now.
The way t he helicopt er was perched on t he wall, I didnt have enough room t o clear t he
rot ors in t he front . It was dark and even wit h my night vision it was impossible t o be sure how
high t he rot ors were spinning. The only way t o get t o t he compound was by going underneat h
t he wreck.
I am going explosive, I heard Charlie say over t he t roop net . I could see him at t he gat e t o
t he main compound, set t ing t he charge.
Put t ing my head down, I raced t oward t he wreck. As I got close, I t ried t o hug t he wall as I
ran underneat h t he t ail boom. Hot exhaust blew down from t he engines as I passed. It was like
walking inside a hair-dryer for a few seconds.
Coming out on t he ot her side, I could see Charlie prepping a charge on t he locked iron
gat e. All around him were guys wit h t heir weapons t rained out , pulling securit y.
I moved t oward a prayer room near t he gat e t o make sure it was clear. The room had a
large open area wit h t hick rugs on t he floor and pillows forming a perimet er around t he walls.
We knew from t he int elligence analyst s t hat t he room was most likely used t o meet guest s,
but t hat seemed t o be infrequent . Once cleared, I pulled off an IR chemlight and t hrew it by t he
door t o alert t he ot hers t he room was secure.
When I got back out side, Charlie was checking his back blast t o make sure no one could
get hit by shrapnel from t he breaching charge. I saw t he quick flash as Charlie hit t he det onat or
and smoot hly rolled back out of t he way like he had done t housands of t imes.
We all dipped our heads t o prot ect our eyes. No one was panicked or nervous. We were on
t he ground and finally it was up t o us t o get t he job done.
The explosion sent a shock wave t hat blew a hole in t he gat e. Charlie was t he first
t hrough, kicking and pulling t he scorched met al wider so we could fit . Guys quickly st art ed t o
pile t hrough and peel off t oward t heir planned object ives. Despit e t he first few curveballs, we
were now back on our original plan.
Aft er clearing t he gat e, I caught a glimpse of t he second Black Hawk carrying Chalk Two. I
could t ell by t he way t he helicopt er was hovering t hat Chalk Two had already landed t he
perimet er securit y t eam out side t he walls of t he compound. From t he dozens of t imes we had
t rained in t he mock-up, I was used t o get t ing rot or wash in t he face as t he helicopt er hovered
over t he building while t he t eams fast -roped ont o t he roof.
But inst ead of hovering above t he house, t he helicopt er quickly disappeared behind t he
walls. The pilot s must have seen us crash, and set back down t o drop t he t eam off out side t he
walls.
Dont worry about risking a bad posit ion wit h t he helicopt ers, just get t he guys on t he
ground, Admiral McRaven had reit erat ed during one of our final briefs. It doesnt mat t er
where, t he most import ant t hing is t o get t hem on t he ground safe, and t heyll figure out t he
rest .
I guess Chalk Two hadnt want ed t o gamble wit h fast -roping t o t he main building aft er
seeing what happened t o our helicopt er. It was t he right call.
I could hear t he first few radio calls st art ing t o chime in over t he net . I knew from
cont ingency planning t hat if Chalk Two didnt fast -rope ont o t he roof, t hey were headed t o a
gat e on t he nort h side of t he compound.
Heading t oward C1, Will was next t o me as we approached t he front door of t he
guest house. The only sound t hat gave us away was t he scuff of our boot s on t he gravel.
We knew t hat as one of Bin Ladens most t rust ed couriers, Ahmed al-Kuwait i lived in t he
guest house wit h his family. We expect ed at least one wife and several children. Since t he kids
lived t here, I didnt expect any booby t raps.
Just like on t he mock-up and pict ures, t here was a set of met al double doors wit h
windows at t he t op. A window on t he right side of t he door had bars covering t he glass. I didnt
see any light s on in t he house. Sheet s covered all of t he windows, making it impossible t o see
inside.
Will t ook up a posit ion t o t he left of t he door while I t ried t he knob. I pulled down t he L-
shaped handle t wice, but it was locked.
St epping back, Will popped his sledgehammer off t he back of his kit and pulled out t he
ext endable handle. I covered him from t he right .
Will reared back and hit t he lock wit h a sharp whack. The hammer slammed int o t he knob,
but only left a bat t ered handle and a deep gash. Will gave it t wo more whacks, but not hing
budged. The doors were solid met al and we knew t he sledgehammer wasnt going t o work.
Turning t o t he windows, Will t ried t o smash out t he glass so we could pull t he sheet down
and look inside. Wedging t he head of t he hammer t hrough t he bars, he t ried t o break t he
panes of glass but each t ime he pulled back, t he head of t he hammer got jammed. The bars
were just t oo narrow.
I am going explosive, I whispered t o Will, and grabbed t he breaching charge off t he back
of my kit .
We bot h knew t hat t ime was of t he essence and t he element of surprise was gone t he
minut e our helicopt er crashed. Will set t he sledgehammer aside and covered t he door wit h his
rifle.
From across t he compound, t here was an explosion as t he t eam from Chalk Two blew t he
nort h gat e open. Failed breach came over t he radio. Were moving t o t he Delt a Compound
gat e at t his t ime. Aft er blowing t he gat e open, t hey had discovered a brick wall sealing it . The
t eam was supposed t o be assault ing t he t hird floor by now, but t hey were st ill t rying t o gain
ent ry.
Roger, I will meet you t here and unlock it from t he inside, Mike replied.
Delt a gat e was at t he nort h end of t he driveway t hat separat ed t he helicopt er crash wit h
t he rest of t he compound. Mike was on t he sout h end of t he driveway, close t o t he
guest house.
The mission was moving quickly now. It had probably been about five minut es since we hit
t he ground, and now t went y-four guys were swarming t he compound. At least t wo charges
had blown and, coupled wit h t he helicopt ers, we knew t hey had heard us coming. Wit hout a
doubt , we figured t he occupant s of t he compound would now be prepared t o defend
t hemselves.
Taking a knee t o t he right of t he door, I peeled t he backing off t he adhesive st rip on t he
breaching charge and set it across t he mangled knob and lock. I always knelt while I placed
breaching charges because I had been shot at t hrough t he door in Iraq many t imes. Fight ers
liked t o spray t he middle of t he door, blindly firing where t hey t hought a man would be
st anding.
The t hird member of my t eam ent ered t he compound. He was one of t he last guys out of
t he helicopt er and had just got t en t o us. His job was t o clear a st aircase t hat led t o t he roof of
t he guest house. As he st art ed t oward t he st airs, which were direct ly in line wit h t he door, AK-
47 rounds t ore t hrough t he glass above t he door, narrowly missing him.
I rolled away as t he bullet s cracked just inches over my head. The first rounds always
surprise t he shit out of you. I could feel pieces of glass hit my shoulder.
That is not a suppressed weapon, I t hought .
It was easy t o t ell who was firing, since we had suppressors on our weapons.
Unsuppressed rounds meant enemy fire. Someone inside had an assault rifle. Aiming chest
high, he fired a blind barrage. He was a caged animal. There was nowhere he could go and he
knew we were coming.
Will, covering t he door from t he left side, st art ed t o fire back inst ant ly. As I t urned back and
opened fire, I felt a searing burn in my left shoulder, probably glass or shrapnel. Our ret urn fire
cut t hrough t he met al door.
Rolling out of t he fat al funnel of t he doorway, I made it t o my feet and moved t o t he
window a few feet down t he wall from t he door.
Ahmed al-Kuwait i, Will said. Ahmed al-Kuwait i, come out !
Smashing t he window wit h my barrel, I fired back t oward his likely posit ion.
Will was st ill yelling, and wit h no response. Wit h no t ime t o spare, I made my way back t o
t he explosive charge, which was st ill hanging from t he door. The only way t o get inside was t o
blow t he door. As I got close, I made sure t o st ay ext ra low.
Once we blew t he door, I planned t o t hrow a grenade inside before we went in t o clear it .
Ahmed al-Kuwait i had proven he wasnt going down wit hout a fight , and I was not going t o risk
anyt hing.
I was about t o at t ach t he det onat or t o t he charge when we heard someone t hrowing t he
lat ch t o t he lock. Will heard it t oo, and we bot h immediat ely st art ed t o back away from t he
door. We had no idea who was coming out or what t o expect . Was he going t o just crack t he
door and t hrow a grenade, or hang his AK-47 out and spray?
I t ook a quick look around. There was no cover. The court yard was crowded wit h t rash and
t ools used t o garden. Our only opt ion was t o cont inue moving back, t rying t o st ay away from
t he window and door.
The door cracked open slowly, and I could hear a womans voice calling out . That didnt
mean we were safe. If she was coming out wit h a suicide vest on, we were dead. This was Bin
Ladens compound. These were his facilit at ors. Shot s were fired, so we knew t hey were willing
t o die t o prot ect him.
Through t he sweat running down my face and t he grit in my eyes from t he rot or wash, I
could just make out t he figure of a woman in t he green glow of my night vision goggles. She
had somet hing in her arms and my finger slowly st art ed applying pressure t o my t rigger. I could
see our lasers dancing around her head. It would only t ake a split second t o end her life if she
was holding a bomb.
As t he door cont inued t o open, I saw t hat t he bundle was a baby. Al-Kuwait is wife,
Mariam, came out wit h t he child pressed against her chest . Behind her, t hree more kids
shuffled out of t he house.
Come here, Will called out t o her in Arabic.
I kept my rifle t rained on t hem as t hey moved forward.
He is dead, Mariam said t o Will in Arabic. You shot him. He is dead. You killed him.
Will did a quick pat down of t he woman.
Hey, she is saying he is dead, Will said t o me, t ranslat ing her Arabic.
I was crouched at t he right side of t he door and pushed it open.
I spot t ed a pair of feet lying in t he doorway of t he bedroom. There was no way of knowing
if he was st ill alive, and I wasnt t aking any chances. Will gave me a squeeze on t he shoulder so
I knew he was ready, and we ent ered t he hallway. I shouldered my rifle and squeezed off
several rounds t o make sure he was down.
The house smelled of heat ing oil. St epping over al-Kuwait is body, I saw a pist ol and an
AK-47 on t he ground just inside t he bedroom door. I kicked t hem away and cont inued t o clear
t he room, which had a bed in t he cent er and t hen smaller beds along t he walls for t he children.
The whole family slept in t he same room.
On t he ot her side of t he hall was a kit chen area. Our ret urn fire had dest royed t he room,
shredding t he pant ry and exploding dry goods all over. Wat er t rickled off t he count er. The
st ove had several holes in it and t he cheap t ile was smashed, wit h chunks st rewn across t he
count er and floor.
The floor was slippery from t he wat er and al-Kuwait is blood, which had pooled in t he hall
and got t en on our boot s. We hast ily cleared bot h rooms and headed out side.
Shot s fired C1, building is secure at t his t ime, I said over t roop net , and t ossed an IR
chemlight at t he guest houses front door. We moved t oward t he main building t o backfill t he
ot her t eams.
CHAPTER 14
Khalid
Not even t en minut es had passed since we crashed. Will and I sprint ed t hrough t he open
gat e bet ween t he guest house and t he main compound.
We were headed t oward t he nort h door of A1.
Explosives set , nort h door A1, Charlie said over t he t roop net .
His charge was set and he was wait ing for t he order t o blow t he nort h door. All Charlie and
Walt needed now was t he radio call from Tom t o init iat e.
Jen and her analyst s were right so far. They suspect ed t hat t he house was split int o a
duplex. The Bin Laden family lived on t he second and t hird floors wit h t heir own privat e
ent rance. The Pacer always came out t he nort h door but t he al-Kuwait i brot hers always used
t he sout h door.
Unsure if a hallway ran bet ween t he nort h and sout h doors, we didnt want t o risk t wo
explosive breaches at t he same t ime. So Tom and his t eam had come up wit h a plan t o clear
t he sout h side of t he house first , while Charlie wait ed for Toms radio call before set t ing off t he
explosive charge.
Toms t hree-man t eam was inside clearing t he first floor. Inside t he building was dark,
almost pit ch-black, but under night vision t hey could easily make out t he hallway and four
doors opening off t he long hall, t wo on each side. Toms t eam was no more t han a few st eps
inside t he house when t he point man spot t ed a mans head st icking out of t he first room on
t he left . They had already heard t he unmist akable sound of AK-47 fire coming from t he
guest house, and t hey werent t aking any chances. There was ample t ime for whoever was in
A1 t o get ready t o put up a fight .
The point man snapped off a shot . The round st ruck t he occupant , lat er confirmed t o be
Abrar al-Kuwait i, and he disappeared int o t he room. Slowly moving down t he hall, t he t eam
st opped at t he door. Abrar al-Kuwait i was wounded and st ruggling on t he floor. Just as t hey
opened fire again, his wife Bushra jumped in t he way t o shield him. The second burst of rounds
killed bot h of t hem.
The t eam saw anot her woman and several children huddled in t he corner crying. An AK-47
was in t he room. Grabbing t he rifle, Tom unloaded it while t he rest of t he t eam searched t he
remaining rooms.
At t he end of t he hall was a locked door, which was direct ly in line wit h t he nort h door.
Wit h t he sout h side of A1 secure, Toms t eam quickly exit ed.
Usually, we would have left someone t o wat ch t he woman and kids in t he bedroom, but
we didnt have t he t ime or enough assault ers. The remaining woman and kids were just left in
t he room.
Hey, Charlie, send it , Tom said on t he t roop net .
As t hey exit ed t he sout h door, one of t he SEALs t hrew Abrar al-Kuwait is AK-47 int o t he
court yard. It was dark and t here was lit t le chance anyone would come out looking for it .
Seconds aft er hearing t he call from Tom over t he radio, I heard t he boom as Charlie set off
his breaching charge. Will and I had made our way around t he west side of t he building and
st acked behind t he guys lined up t o ent er t he nort h door, which was now open.
The SEALs from Chalk Two had by now made t heir way int o t he compound. Aft er t he
failed breach, t hey had moved over t o t he main gat e and were let in by Mike. They were
already st acked on t he nort h door.
Charlie was already inside, and a loose line had formed as t he rest of us wait ed t o ent er
t he t arget . Through my night vision I could see mult iple lasers t racking along t he windows and
balconies just in case. Scanning my laser above me t oward t he second and t hird floor, I didnt
see any movement . Coat ing on t he windows made it impossible t o see in or out .
All of t he rushing around had begun t o slow. Things were going very smoot hly since t he
crash t en minut es ago. We all want ed t o cont inue t he assault up t he st airs, but Charlie
report ed over t he radio t hat an addit ional met al gat e was blocking our pat h t o t he second
floor. Charlie was busy set t ing his t hird explosive charge of t he night .
All we could do was wait and pull securit y. I knew Charlie and t he ot hers were working as
fast as t hey possibly could. While I was st anding t here I began t o t hink about how surreal it all
was. It felt like wait ing t o st art a CQB run during Green Team.
The sound of some pissed-off chickens pulled me from my t hought s. Our rout e t o t he
nort h door had t aken us t hrough a small area of lat t icework and chicken coops. Our bullet proof
vest s and t act ical gear were get t ing hung up in t he narrow walkway, smashing t he coops.
St anding in one place was driving me crazy.
Just in front of me I could hear a couple of guys t alking.
Holy shit , I cant believe we just crashed, Walt said.
Crashed, what t he fuck are you t alking about ?
Yeah, our helo just crashed, Walt said.
St anding nearby was Jay, t he missions commander, who had been on Chalk Two. When
he heard Walt t alk about t he crash, he quickly cut in.
What ?
Yeah, we crashed, Walt said, mot ioning back t oward t he crash sit e. You might want t o
t ake a look in t he court yard.
Even t hrough night vision I t hought it looked funny as t he expression on Jays face
changed as he processed t he informat ion. He t urned and sprint ed back down t he line of
assault ers. I guess no one from Chalk Two knew we crashed. At t his point , it had not been
broadcast over t he net . When t he pilot s of Chalk Two saw Chalk One go down in t he
court yard, t hey had skipped t he risky fast -rope ont o t he roof, and landed Chalk Two out side
t he walls.
Back at t he helicopt er, Teddy and his crew were shut t ing down t he engines and making
sure all of t he inst rument s were dest royed. For a second, he considered at t empt ing t o t ake off
again. There was no major visible damage t o t he helicopt er, and he figured wit h no weight he
might be able t o lift off. In t he end, caut ion won out .
Aft er rushing t o t he scene of t he crash, Jay immediat ely got on t he sat ellit e radio he was
carrying and called t he QRF.
The QRF quickly t ook off from t heir init ial posit ion, locat ed wit h t he second CH-47 a short
dist ance nort h of t he compound, and headed our way. To save t ime, t hey t ook t he most direct
rout e over Pakist ans milit ary academy. But a few minut es lat er, Jay called back. Alt hough we
had crash-landed, we didnt have any dead or wounded. All t he assault ers were consolidat ed
on A1 and t hey were about t o st art clearing up t he st airs.
Hold your posit ion, he said t o t he QRF.
Inside A1, Charlie set his next breaching charge and checked t he back blast . Since t he
charge was going t o explode inside t he building, t he over pressure was more dynamic and
would blow out windows and doors. Two ot her SEALs were near Charlie. Wit h almost zero
cover t o shield t hem from t he blast , one SEAL was hiding behind a door t hat led t o anot her
room.
Hey, buddy, you might want t o wat ch out for t hat door, Charlie said.
The assault er st epped away from behind t he door just as Charlie set off t he charge. I
could hear t he loud boom echo from my posit ion out side at t he chicken coops. The over
pressure blew t he door t he SEAL had been hiding behind from it s hinges and sent it crashing
int o t he opposit e wall. The SEAL st ood t here st unned. A few seconds ago, he was in t he pat h
and would have likely been seriously injured if he hadnt moved.
Thanks, he said t o Charlie, as t hey bot h pushed and pulled open t he mangled gat e.
Wit h t he gat e open, we st art ed clearing up t he st airs. It t ook a few seconds for me t o get
t o t he door. I hooked right t hrough t he second met al gat e and began heading up t he st airs.
Most of t he guys were already ahead of me.
The t ile st airs were set at ninet y-degree angles, creat ing a sort of spiral st aircase
separat ed by small landings. We had no idea what t o expect . By now, Bin Laden or whoever
was hiding inside had plent y of t ime t o get a weapon and prepare a defense. Since t he only
way up was t hrough a spiraling st aircase, we could easily get bot t lenecked.
It was dark and we were doing our best t o be quiet . Every st ep was deliberat e.
No t alking.
No yelling.
No running.
In t he old days, wed st orm t he cast le, t hrowing flash grenades as we cleared t hrough an
object ive. Now we st ayed as quiet as possible. We had t he advant age wit h our night vision, but
it would be lost if you went barreling int o a room. It was all about t hrot t le cont rol. There was no
reason t o run t o our deat hs.
When I reached t he landing on t he second deck, most of t he ot her assault ers had fanned
out . The second floor opened int o a long hallway heading t o a t errace t hat ran along t he sout h
side of t he building. The floor had four doors, t wo right near t he landing and t wo fart her down
near t he t errace. I could see my t eammat es creeping down t he hall, st acking on t he doors
before quiet ly clearing inside.
I not iced anot her assault er t hree or four st eps up t he st airs holding securit y on t he landing
bet ween t he second and t hird decks. A body was on t he landing. Blood was t rickling out ont o
t he marble floor.
While holding securit y, t he assault er had seen a man quickly poke his head down around
t he landing. Int elligence report s said t here could be up t o four males living at t he compound.
Khalid, one of Bin Ladens sons, was most likely living on t he second floor, while Bin Laden lived
on t he t hird floor.
The head peeking around t he corner was clean-cut wit h no beard. It had t o be Bin Ladens
son.
Khalid, t he assault er whispered. Khalid.
Everyone in t he compound had heard t he helicopt er engines. They heard t he shot s fired
at t he guest house, and t hey heard t he explosive breaches.
But by t hen everyt hing was quiet again. All t hey could hear was our foot st eps. Then t he
man on t he landing heard his name being called.
They know my name? I imagine him t hinking.
Curiosit y got t he best of him and he st uck his head out t o see who was calling his name.
The second he st uck his head back around t he corner, t he assault er shot him in t he face. His
body rolled down t he st airs and rest ed on t he landing.
Looking back, I saw we had several more SEALs coming up t he st airs and beginning t o
st ack behind me. The second-floor hallway was already full of assault ers and t hey didnt need
any more help.
The only place t o go was up.
St anding behind t he point man, I gave him a squeeze t o let him know we were ready.
Take it .
CHAPTER 15
Third Deck
Khalid was splayed out on his back, and we had t o carefully pick our way past him on t he
st airs.
The st eps were slick t ile, made slicker by t he blood. Each st ep was precarious. Nearby, I
saw Khalids AK-47 rifle propped on t he st ep.
I am glad he didnt man up and use t hat t hing, I t hought .
Had t he point man not called his name, we could have been pinned down on t he st airwell.
All he had t o do was sit on t he landing and fire a few rounds each t ime we t ried t o move up t he
st airs t oward his posit ion. That would have been a night mare, and we would have t aken some
casualt ies for sure.
We had planned for more of a fight . For all t he t alk about suicide vest s and being willing t o
shed blood for Allah, only one of t he al-Kuwait i brot hers got off a barrage. At least Khalid had
t hought about it . When we examined his AK-47 lat er, we learned he had a round in t he
chamber. He was prepared t o fight , but in t he end, he hadnt got t en much of an opport unit y.
The st airwell was pit ch-black t o t he naked eye, but under our night vision everyt hing was
bat hed in a green hue. The assault er holding securit y was now on point as we followed him up
t he st airs. We were again slowing down and t aking our t ime. The point man was t he eyes and
ears for t he rest of us. He cont rolled t he pace.
Throt t le on. Throt t le off.
So far, everyt hing was adding up. We knew t he house had at least four men. The only one
left was Bin Laden. But I pushed t hose t hought s out of my head. It didnt mat t er who it was on
t he t hird deck. We were possibly walking int o a gunfight , and most gunfight s at t his range only
last a few seconds. There was no margin of error.
Focus, I t old myself.
Wit h t he point man direct ly in front of me, t here was not hing much I could do. I was t here
t o support him. Roughly fift een minut es had passed and Bin Laden had plent y of t ime t o st rap
on a suicide vest or simply get his gun.
My eyes scanned t he landing up ahead. My senses were on overdrive. My ears st rained t o
hear a round being chambered or t he foot st eps of someone approaching. Not hing we were
doing was new. We had all been on hundreds of missions. At t he most basic level, we were
clearing rooms like we learned in Green Team. Only t he t arget and t he fact t hat we were in
Pakist an made t his mission significant .
The landing at t he t op of t he st airs opened int o a narrow hallway. At t he end of t he hall
was a door t o t he balcony. Roughly five feet from t he t op of t he st airs were t wo doors, one t o
t he right and one t o t he left .
The st airway was relat ively narrow, especially for a bunch of guys in kit . It was difficult t o
see around t he point man, since t he st airwell and landing narrowed as we got t o t he t op.
We were less t han five st eps from get t ing t o t he t op when I heard suppressed shot s.
BOP. BOP.
The point man had seen a man peeking out of t he door on t he right side of t he hallway
about t en feet in front of him. I couldnt t ell from my posit ion if t he rounds hit t he t arget or not .
The man disappeared int o t he dark room.
The point man reached t he landing first and slowly moved t oward t he door. Unlike in t he
movies, we didnt bound up t he final few st eps and rush int o t he room wit h guns blazing. We
t ook our t ime.
The point man kept his rifle t rained int o t he room as we slowly crept t oward t he open
door. Again, we didnt rush. Inst ead, we wait ed at t he t hreshold and peered inside. We could
see t wo women st anding over a man lying at t he foot of a bed. Bot h women were dressed in
long gowns and t heir hair was a t angled mess like t hey had been sleeping. The women were
hyst erically crying and wailing in Arabic. The younger one looked up and saw us at t he door.
She yelled out in Arabic and rushed t he point man. We were less t han five feet apart .
Swinging his gun t o t he side, t he point man grabbed bot h women and drove t hem t oward t he
corner of t he room. If eit her woman had on a suicide vest , he probably saved our lives, but it
would have cost him his own. It was a selfless decision made in a split second.
Wit h t he women out of t he way, I ent ered t he room wit h a t hird SEAL. We saw t he man
lying on t he floor at t he foot of his bed. He was wearing a whit e sleeveless T-shirt , loose t an
pant s, and a t an t unic. The point mans shot s had ent ered t he right side of his head. Blood and
brains spilled out of t he side of his skull. In his deat h t hroes, he was st ill t wit ching and
convulsing. Anot her assault er and I t rained our lasers on his chest and fired several rounds.
The bullet s t ore int o him, slamming his body int o t he floor unt il he was mot ionless.
Quickly scanning for addit ional t hreat s, I saw at least t hree children huddled in t he far
corner of t he room near t he sliding glass door t hat opened ont o t he balcony. The childrenI
couldnt t ell if t hey were boys or girlssat in t he corner, st unned, as I cleared t he room.
Wit h t he man on t he floor now mot ionless and no furt her t hreat , we cleared t wo small
rooms just off t he bedroom. Pushing t he first door open, I peeked inside and saw a small,
cramped, messy office. Papers were st rewn all over a t iny desk. The second door revealed a
small shower and t oilet .
Everyt hing was muscle memory now. In our minds, we st art ed t icking off our ment al
checklist . The main t hreat was dead by t he bed. The point man was covering t he women and
kids. My t eammat e and I cleared t he small office and bat hroom, while t he ot her SEALs cleared
t he room across t he hall.
As I went across t he hall t o t he ot her room, I passed Walt on t he way.
All clear over here, he said.
This side t oo, I replied.
The point man moved t he women and kids out of t he bedroom and ont o t he balcony t o
keep t hem calm. Tom was on t he t hird deck and saw t hat bot h rooms were clear.
Third deck secure, I heard him say over t he t roop net .
CHAPTER 16
Geronimo
Back in t he bedroom, t he youngest woman was lying on t he bed, screaming hyst erically,
clut ching her calf.
Walt was st anding next t o t he body. It was st ill dark and it was hard t o make out t he
mans face. The house was st ill wit hout power. I reached up and flipped on t he light clipped int o
t he rail syst em on my helmet . The t arget was now secure and since all t he windows were
covered, no one could see us from t he out side, so t he use of whit e light was safe.
The mans face was mangled from at least one bullet wound and covered in blood. A hole
in his forehead collapsed t he right side of his skull. His chest was t orn up from where t he
bullet s had ent ered his body. He was lying in an ever-growing pool of blood. As I crouched
down t o t ake a closer look, Tom joined me.
I t hink t his is our boy, Tom said.
He wasnt about t o say it was Bin Laden over t he radio because he knew t hat call would
be shot like light ning back t o Washingt on. We knew President Obama was list ening, so we
didnt want t o be wrong.
I went t hrough t he checklist in my head.
He was very t all. I figured approximat ely six foot four inches.
Check.
He was t he one adult male on t he t hird deck.
Check.
The t wo couriers were exact ly where t he CIA said t heyd be.
Check.
The more I looked at his mangled face, my eye seemed t o go back t o his nose. It wasnt
damaged and seemed familiar. Pulling my booklet out of my kit , I st udied t he composit e phot os.
The long and slender nose fit . His beard was dark black and t here was no t race of t he gray
t hat I expect ed t o see.
Walt and I will run wit h t his, I said t o Tom.
Roger, Tom said.
Taking out my camera and rubber gloves, I st art ed t aking phot os while Walt prepared t o
t ake mult iple set s of DNA samples.
Will, t he Arabic speaker, was in t he room t reat ing t he leg wound of t he woman crying on
t he bed. We learned lat er t hat she was Amal al-Fat ah, Bin Ladens fift h wife. Im not sure when
she got hit , but it was a very small wound. It could have been from bullet fragment s or a
ricochet .
Hey, we have a significant amount of SSE on t he second deck, I heard someone call over
t he t roop net . Were going t o need any ext ra bodies down here.
As Tom left t he room, I heard him on t he command net .
We have a possible, I repeat POSSIBLE t ouchdown on t he t hird deck.
Walt pulled his CamelBak hose from his kit and squirt ed wat er on t he mans face.
I st art ed t o wipe t he blood away from his face using a blanket from t he bed. Wit h each
swipe, t he face became more familiar. He looked younger t han I expect ed. His beard was dark,
like it had been dyed. I just kept t hinking about how he didnt look anyt hing like Id expect ed him
t o look.
It was st range t o see such an infamous face up close. Lying in front of me was t he reason
we had been fight ing for t he last decade. It was surreal t rying t o clean blood off t he most
want ed man in t he world so t hat I could shoot his phot o. I had t o focus on t he mission. Right
now, we needed some good qualit y phot os. This pict ure could end up being widely viewed, and
I didnt want t o mess it up.
Tossing t he blanket away, I pulled out t he camera t hat Id used t o shoot hundreds of
pict ures over t he last few years and st art ed snapping phot os. Wed all got t en real good t aking
t hese kinds of phot os. Wed been playing CSI Afghanist an for years.
The first shot s were of his full body. Then I knelt down near his head and shot a few of just
his face. Pulling his beard t o t he right and t hen t he left , I shot several profile pict ures. I really
want ed t o focus on t he nose. Because t he beard was so dark, t he profile shot was t he one
t hat really st ood out in my mind.
Hey, man, hold his good eye open, I said t o Walt .
He reached down and peeled back t he eyelid, exposing his now lifeless brown eye. I
zoomed in and shot a t ight phot o of it . While I shot pict ures, Will was wit h t he women and
children on t he balcony. Below us, my t eammat es were collect ing all of t he comput ers, memory
cards, not ebooks, and videos. Out side, Ali, t he CIA int erpret er, and t he securit y t eam were
dealing wit h curious neighbors.
Over t he radio, I heard Mike t alking about t he crashed Black Hawk.
Demo t eam, prep it t o blow, Mike said.
I knew from t he radio t raffic t hat t he SEAL in charge of demolit ion and t he EOD t ech were
on t heir way t o t he court yard.
Hey, were going t o blow it , t he SEAL said.
Roger t hat , t he EOD t ech said. He st art ed t aking out charges and put t ing t hem around
t he ground floor of t he main house.
What t he fuck? t he SEAL said as t he EOD t ech unpacked.
Everybody was confused.
You t old me t o get ready t o blow it , right ?
Not t he house, t he SEAL said. The helo.
What helo?
The EOD t ech t hought t he SEAL meant t hey were going t o blow t he house, which was
anot her one of t he cont ingency plans we had t rained for.
News of Chalk Ones crash was st ill not widespread. People were just finding out about it .
In Washingt on, t hey werent even sure wed crashed when t hey wat ched it on t he drone feed. I
heard lat er it looked on t he grainy black-and-whit e video as if wed parked in t he court yard
and let t he t eam out . The president and senior st aff were confused when it happened, and
even asked JSOC what was going on. A quick message t o McRaven came back wit h an
answer: We will now be amending t he mission we have a helicopt er down in t he court yard.
My men are prepared for t his cont ingency, and t hey will deal wit h it .
Out side, t he helicopt er crew was done dest roying all of t he classified gear. Teddy, t he
senior pilot and flight lead, was one of t he last t o climb out . Get t ing t o t he door, he looked at
t he almost six-foot drop t o t he ground. There was no way he want ed t o jump and risk injury.
Kicking t he fast rope out of t he cabin, he slid down t o t he court yard, which made him t he only
guy t o fast -rope int o t he compound t hat night .
The EOD t ech and t he SEAL got t here soon aft er and st art ed t o place explosive charges
around t he fuselage. Climbing up t he t ail, t he SEAL t ried t o get charges as close t o t he t ail
rot ors as possible. Wearing his kit and night vision goggles wasnt t he easiest way t o climb up
t he unst able, narrow sect ion of t ail boom. Each t ime he t ried t o reach t he sect ion propped on
t he t welve-foot wall, he was afraid it would break under his weight .
Climbing up as high as he could, he placed t he charges wit h one hand. The ot her hand
kept him st able as he balanced precariously over t he court yard. Dest roying t he
communicat ions equipment and avionics was t he most import ant part . Wit h t he charges set
on t he t ail, he placed t he remaining charges in t he main cabin.
Meanwhile, t he Black Hawk t hat hadnt crashed and t he CH-47 carrying t he QRF were
flying in circles nearby, wait ing for us t o finish. Fuel was becoming an issue, which meant our
t ime in t he compound was shrinking quickly.
Ten minut es, I heard Mike say over t he radio.
On t he t hird deck, t he light s in t he room came on, bat hing us in t he glow of whit e light . The
rolling blackout was apparent ly over. It was perfect t iming and made everyt hing easier.
While I cont inued shoot ing pict ures, Walt t ook DNA samples. He dabbed a cot t on swab in
Bin Ladens blood. He t ook anot her and jammed it in Bin Ladens mout h t o get a saliva sample.
Finally, he t ook out a spring-loaded syringe t he CIA gave us t o get a blood-marrow sample.
Wed been t rained t o jab it int o t he t high t o get a sample from inside t he femur. Walt jabbed it
several t imes int o Bin Ladens t high, but t he needle wouldnt fire.
Here, I said, handing him mine. Try t his one.
He t ook it and slammed my syringe int o t he fleshy part of Bin Ladens t high, but it also
didnt fire.
Fuck t hese t hings, Walt said, t ossing t he syringes t o t he side.
I finished t aking a second set of pict ures using anot her SEALs camera. We t ook t wo DNA
samples and set s of phot os so t hat we had ident ical set s. Walt put one sample in his cargo
pocket and gave anot her t o a SEAL in t he ot her chalk. This had been carefully planned so if
one of t he helicopt ers was shot down on our flight back t o Jalalabad, a DNA sample and set of
pict ures would survive. We want ed proof t o show t o Pakist an and t he rest of t he world we got
Bin Laden.
Meanwhile, on t he balcony, Will was t rying t o get confirmat ion t hat it was Bin Laden on t he
floor.
Bin Ladens wife Amal, who had been wounded in t he ankle, was st ill hyst erical and
wouldnt t alk. I could hear her whimpering on t he bed above me while I worked. The ot her
woman, her eyes puffy from crying, t ried t o keep a st ern face as Will asked her over and over
again in Arabic who t he dead guy was.
What is his name?
The sheikh, t he woman said.
The sheikh who? Will said. He didnt want t o lead her and st uck t o open-ended
quest ions.
Aft er she gave Will several aliases, he went over t o t he kids who were out side on t he
balcony. They were all sit t ing silent ly against t he wall. Will knelt down and asked one of t he
girls, Who is t he man?
The girl didnt know t o lie.
Osama bin Laden.
Will smiled.
Are you sure t hat is Osama bin Laden?
Yes, t he girl said.
OK, he said. Thanks.
Back in t he hallway, he grabbed one of t he wives by her arms and gave her a good shake.
St op fucking wit h me now, Will said, more st ernly t han before. Who is t hat in t he
bedroom?
She st art ed t o cry. More scared t han anyt hing else, she didnt have any fight left .
Osama, she said.
Osama what ? Will said, st ill holding her arm.
Osama bin Laden, she said.
Will moved her back out side wit h t he kids and walked back int o t he bedroom.
Hey, dual confirmat ion, Will said. Confirmed it wit h t he kid. Confirmed it wit h t he old lady.
Bot h are saying t he same t hing.
As Will left t he room, Jay showed up wit h Tom. Seeing t he body, he came and st ood over
it .
Will confirmed t hrough a woman and a kid t hat it is UBL, Tom said.
Kneeling next t o his head, I pulled his beard t o t he left and right so Jay could get t he profile
shot . I had my SSE card and put it next t o his face so Jay could see t he real Bin Laden next t o
t he CIA renderings.
Yeah, t hat looks like our guy, Jay said.
Jay immediat ely left t he room t o call it in. The rest of us went back t o work. Once out side,
Jay got on t he sat ellit e radio t o Admiral McRaven, who was st ill in Jalalabad. The admiral was
keeping President Obama and t he rest of t he sit uat ion room in t he Whit e House updat ed on
our progress.
For God and count ry, I pass Geronimo, Jay said. Geronimo E.K.I.A.
Over t he t roop net I could hear t he guys on t he second deck. They needed more help t o
gat her up all of t he int elligence in t he media rooms. It was on t he second floor t hat Bin Laden
had a makeshift office where he kept his comput ers and made his video pronouncement s.
The rooms were immaculat e and organized. Everyt hing had it s place. All of his CDs, DVDs,
and memory cards were st acked up perfect ly. The SEALs focused on grabbing all t he
elect ronic mediarecorders, memory cards, t humb drives, and comput ers. The CIA had briefed
us on what t ype of digit al voice recorder t hey t hought Bin Laden used and had even showed
us one t hat was similar during our t raining. The SEALs searching t he second floor act ually
found one exact ly like t he CIA had predict ed. I marveled again at t he int elligence t eam. When
Jen had pronounced one hundred percent , I should have believed her.
When we were done wit h t he DNA samples and phot os, Walt and anot her SEAL grabbed
Bin Ladens legs and pulled him out of t he room. Wit h all t he commot ion and act ivit y going on
around me, I can st ill remember wat ching t he guys drag his body down t he st airs.
I st ayed in t he room and st art ed gat hering up any int elligence I could find. The office was
barren of anyt hing useful. I grabbed a few papers, possibly religious writ ings, and t ook some
audiocasset t es and t hrew t hem int o a mesh bag. We all carried t he light weight , collapsible
bags for t his purpose. A quick search of t he t iny bat hroom wit h green t ile on t he walls had
revealed not hing of value. I did find a box of Just For Men hair dye, which he must have used on
his beard. No wonder he looked so young when we found him.
On t he wall bet ween t he bat hroom and office, I opened up a wooden freest anding
dresser. It was about six feet t all wit h t wo long doors. Inside were several set s of clot hes,
including t he long shirt s, baggy pant s, and vest s common t o t he region.
I was shocked by how neat it was. Compared t o some part s of his house, which looked like
hoarders lived t here, his dresser could have passed a Marine Corps Boot Camp inspect ion. All
of his Tshirt s were folded int o squares and st acked in one corner. His clot hes hung evenly
spaced.
This could be my dresser, I t hought .
I grabbed a few shirt s and a vest and st uffed t hem in my bag. I knew we were t here t o
collect most ly elect ronic media, but since t here wasnt much of t hat in t he room I figured Id
grab t his st uff inst ead. Throwing open t he drawers at t he bot t om, I rifled t hrough his st uff,
looking for anyt hing useful. For t he most part , his room appeared t o be for sleeping.
Before I left , I not iced a shelf t hat ran above t he door. It was just above where he was
st anding when we got t o t he t hird deck. I slid my hand up and felt t wo guns, which t urned out
t o be an AK-47 and a Makarov pist ol in a holst er. I t ook each weapon down and pulled out t he
magazine and checked t he chambers.
They were bot h empt y.
He hadnt even prepared a defense. He had no int ent ion of fight ing. He asked his followers
for decades t o wear suicide vest s or fly planes int o buildings, but didnt even pick up his
weapon. In all of my deployment s, we rout inely saw t his phenomenon. The higher up t he food
chain t he t arget ed individual was, t he bigger a pussy he was. The leaders were less willing t o
fight . It is always t he young and impressionable who st rap on t he explosives and blow
t hemselves up.
Bin Laden knew we were coming when he heard t he helicopt er. I had more respect for
Ahmed al-Kuwait i in t he guest house because at least he t ried t o defend himself and his family.
Bin Laden had more t ime t o prepare t han t he ot hers, and yet he st ill didnt do anyt hing. Did he
believe his own message? Was he willing t o fight t he war he asked for? I dont t hink so.
Ot herwise, he would have at least got t en his gun and st ood up for what he believed. There is
no honor in sending people t o die for somet hing you wont even fight for yourself.
Over t he radio, I could hear updat es from t he t eam on t he securit y perimet er.
Ali and t he four SEALs spent most of our t ime on t arget holding securit y along t he road
nort heast of t he compound. Aft er t hey were insert ed, t wo assault ers and Cairo, t he combat
assault dog, did a sweep of t he perimet er.
Aft er t he pat rol, t hey wait ed and wat ched for onlookers t o come out and invest igat e t he
commot ion. Resident s heard t he helicopt ers, t he int ermit t ent explosions, and gunfire.
Wondering what was going on, a few small groups approached t he securit y t eam.
Go back inside, Ali said in Pasht o. There is a securit y operat ion under way.
Luckily for us, t he Pakist anis obliged and went back int o t heir houses. A few post ed
messages on Twit t er about helicopt ers and noise.
Time was get t ing t ight .
Mike was on t he radio giving us remaining-t ime hacks. Wed been in t he compound for
almost t hirt y minut es. Each t ime he came on, my t eammat es on t he second deck asked for
addit ional t ime.
We need t en more minut es, a SEAL on t he second deck said. Were not even halfway
done.
Mike just repeat ed t he t ime back calmly. The mission was a balancing act . We all want ed
t o st ay and make sure we didnt leave anyt hing behind, but t he helicopt ers were running out of
fuel and t here wasnt any t ime t o give.
Post assault , five minut es, Mike finally said. That meant drop what youre doing and get
t o t he landing zone wit hin five minut es.
I was done on t he t hird deck, and I st art ed for t he door. I felt like I was leaving somet hing
undone. We t ook pride in coming back wit h every bit of int elligence we could find and collect .
There was so much st ill t o do. We all had t o face t he fact we were leaving areas unsearched,
and t hen put it out of our minds. We all knew t he risks of running out of gas or remaining on
t arget t oo long, giving t he local police or milit ary t ime t o react . We got what we came for: Bin
Laden. It was t ime t o get out while we st ill could.
Hey, consolidat e t he women and children and get t hem out of t he compound, Mike said
over t he radio.
I could hear Will t rying t o get t he women and children t o move out side. We didnt want
t hem t o wander over t o t he helicopt er before it exploded. But it was like herding cat s, and Will
wasnt making any headway. The women were st ill sobbing, and t he kids were eit her crying or
sit t ing in a daze. None of t hem want ed t o move.
I didnt have t ime t o help. I st ill needed t o get over t o C compound. I followed t he smear of
blood from Bin Ladens body. It left a slippery t rail all t he way t o t he first deck, where Walt had
put Bin Ladens body int o a body bag. As I climbed down t he st eps, I could see where t heyd
dragged t he body over Khalids body. His sons whit e shirt was st ained wit h his fat hers blood.
I headed for C1. The ot hers had got t en phot os and DNA of al-Kuwait i. When I got t here,
his wife and kids were squat t ing in t he corner of t he court yard. I t ried t o get t hem up and
moving when Mikes urgent call came across t he radio.
Hey, guys, he said. Drop what youre doing and move t o exfil HLZ.
Low on fuel, t he Black Hawk and t he C-47 were inbound t o pick us up. Using arm signals, I
got al-Kuwait is family up and shepherded t hem int o t he guest house. I knew t he charges on
t he helicopt er were going off nearby. This was going t o be a big explosion, but t he guest house
was far enough away. Theyd be safe if t hey st ayed inside t he room.
Once inside, I t ried t o get across t he idea t hat t here was going t o be a big explosion, using
my hands and making an explosion sound.
St ay here, I said in English.
I have no idea if t hey underst ood. I backed out of t he room and shut t he door behind me.
Racing down t he rut t ed driveway, I saw Teddy and t he ot her helicopt er crew st anding
near Mike. They looked funny in t heir large aviat ion helmet s and Army ACU uniforms. They
looked lost and out of t heir environment , uncomfort able wit h act ually being on t he ground.
I looked at Mike as I passed.
The women and kids are st aying in C1, I said. There is no way I can move t hem.
The SEALs from t he second deck were spilling out of t he building. We looked like a gypsy
camp, or like Sant a Claus on Christ mas Eve. Guys had mesh bags over t heir shoulders so full
t hey seemed t o waddle more t han run. I saw one SEAL carrying a CPU in one hand and a
leat her gym bag overflowing in t he ot her. The SEALs on t he second floor had collect ed so
much int elligence mat erial t hat t hey had run out of t he collapsible bags t hat t hey carried and
st art ed t aking bags t hat t hey found in t he house and filling t hem t oo. SEALs carried 1950s
leat her briefcases like t hey were on t heir way t o t he office, and knockoff Adidas at hlet ic bags
as if heading home from t he gym.
Out side t he gat e I t urned right and sprint ed t oward t he rest of t he guys who were
beginning t o line up in our chalk loads. I could see t he snipers had already set up t he landing
zone. My chalk was going t o exfil on t he remaining Black Hawk because we had t he body. The
smaller, more maneuverable aircraft had less of a chance of being shot down. The CH-47
would pick up all t he SEALs from Chalk Two as well as Teddy and his crew from t he crashed
Black Hawk.
All around us, light s in t he houses were on. I could see several heads in t he windows
wat ching us. Ali was barking in Pasht u for t hem t o go back inside. We st art ed t o get a head
count . I was missing Will.
Wheres Will? I said, moving down t he line.
He was get t ing t he kids and women when I left , Walt said, st anding next t o t he body,
ready t o move it t o t he helicopt er.
I st art ed t o get on t he radio t o t ry and find his locat ion when I saw Will run out of t he
compound. He was t he last one out .
Taking my place near Walt on t he body bag, I could make out t he Black Hawk coming in
right on t op of t he IR st robe in t he field. As t he helicopt er flared out , I looked down, shielding my
eyes from t he cloud of dust and debris from t he rot ors. Once t he cloud passed, we picked up
t he body and t ook off on a dead sprint t oward t he wait ing helicopt er. This was our freedom
bird and we werent going t o miss it .
The field was recent ly plowed and we st umbled over eight een-inch mounds of eart h as
we hust led t he one hundred yards t o t he helicopt er, carrying t he six-foot -four body. We looked
like drunks st umbling and falling our way t o t he bird.
The dead weight wasnt easy t o carry for any of us, but Walt had a t ough t ime t rying t o
st ay upright . Being five foot six inches t all, his st ride was much short er t han t he rest of us.
Every few st eps, hed fall over one of t he mounds. Wit h curse words cascading from his
lips, hed bounce back up and press on.
Racing under t he spinning rot ors, we t hrew t he body on t he deck and quickly climbed
aboard. I found a spot up against t he back of t he pilot s seat s. Aft er t he sprint , we were
exhaust ed. My chest was heaving, t rying t o gulp in air.
Holy shit , were going t o pull t his off, I t hought .
When we didnt immediat ely leap int o t he sky, I got anxious. In Afghanist an, t he helicopt er
was pract ically t aking off wit h t he last boot st ill on t he ground. The longer we wait ed, t he more
I prepared for a rocket -propelled grenade t o t ear t hrough t he door.
Go, go, go, I kept t hinking. Come on man, go. GO!
But t he Black Hawk wait ed. It even t hrot t led back. The pilot s didnt want t o t ake off before
t he CH-47 arrived. Helicopt ers liked t o fly in pairs. The charges on t he downed Black Hawk
were seconds away from exploding. The SEAL and EOD t ech put t he charges on a five-minut e
t imer. That would have been plent y of t ime if wed been on schedule.
But we were running lat e. At t his point , we were eight minut es past our planned drop-
dead t ime. We fact ored in t en ext ra minut es, but we were about t o run out of t hat t oo.
We had t o assume law enforcement and Pakist ani milit ary were inbound and headed t o
invest igat e t he sit uat ion. We were an invading milit ary force who had ent ered t heir sovereign
t errit ory. I could see t he expression on Toms face. He was on t he helicopt ers int ercom radio
t rying t o figure out what was going on. He want ed t he pilot s t o hurry up and lift off.
Let s go, he finally said. We have t o t ake off right now!
Less t han a minut e remained on t he explosive charges on t he downed Black Hawk. The
SEAL who set t he charges ran up t o Jay and grabbed him. They were bot h st ill on t he landing
zone wait ing for t he CH-47 t o arrive. Jay had been so focused on get t ing t he helicopt ers in
safely, he hadnt heard his name being called.
Call off t he 47, t he SEAL said t o Jay. You need t o get all t he birds out of t he immediat e
area, t he charge is going t o blow in under t hirt y seconds.
Jay st art ed t o work t he radios. He knew t he explosion would knock t he inbound CH-47 out
of t he sky and shrapnel would dest roy t he idling Black Hawk.
I heard t he rot ors come t o life, and t he Black Hawk quickly climbed int o t he sky. Swinging
t o t he nort heast , we picked up speed. Seconds aft er t akeoff, I saw a big flash of light . The
explosion bat hed t he cabin in light for a second, before it faded back t o black.
The CH-47 flew around t o t he sout h and landed aft er t he explosion. The remaining SEALs
and t he aircrew loaded up on t he helicopt er. Since t heyd burned up so much fuel loit ering, t he
CH-47 didnt have any t o spare. And wit h t he ext ra weight of t he addit ional SEALs on board,
t hey had just enough gas t o head st raight back t o t he base in Jalalabad.
Closing my eyes, I t ook a deep breat h. The cabin was dark. The only light s were from t he
dashboard in t he cockpit , and from where I was sit t ing, I could just make out a few gauges on
t he console, including t he gas gauge.
Right when I t hought I could relax, I not iced t he gas gauge was blinking red. Im not a pilot ,
but I knew enough t o realize t hat blinking red light s in a cockpit were never a good sign.
CHAPTER 17
Exfil
I kept peeking int o t he cockpit t o wat ch t he flashing red light s on t he gas gauge.
From t he briefs leading up t o t he mission, I remembered it was supposed t o t ake only t en
minut es t o reach t he FARP sit e. I could feel t he helicopt er bank and make a wide t urn like we
were wat er circling a drain. We seemed t o be doing laps around a part icular area. The crew
chiefs were at t he doors scanning t he ground from t he windows. From t he corner of my eye, I
could see t hat t he red blinking line on t he fuel gauge was even smaller.
Once again, we were jammed int o t he cabin. Tom was sit t ing next t o me. Walt had t o sit
on Bin Ladens body, which was lying at my feet in t he cent er of t he cabin.
Soon aft er t akeoff, my legs st art ed falling asleep and I t ried t o wiggle my t oes t o keep t he
blood circulat ing. I knew t hat in t he big scheme of event s, our port ion of t he night s work was
now done. St ill, none of us could relax unt il we got fuel and we were safely across t he border.
Looking back int o t he dark cabin again, I forced t he fuel issue out of my mind. We were all
t ype A guys who liked t o be in cont rol. About t hirt y-eight minut es ago, all I want ed t o do was
push t he rope out of t he helicopt er, slide down it , and assault t he compound. Now, wit h t hat
port ion of t he mission accomplished, I was again st uck in a helicopt er wit h not hing t o do.
What good was worrying about fuel going t o do? I wasnt a pilot . The red blinking light s
could be Christ mas light s for all I knew.
The helicopt er did anot her long loop before banking hard and quickly descending int o a
hover. The crew chief t hrew open t he door and I could finally see t he dark silhouet t e of a CH-
47 about fift y yards away.
Some of t he SEALs from t he ot her squadron were pulling securit y in t he waist -high grass.
As we t ouched down, t hey were on one knee facing away from t he helicopt er, scanning t he
horizon for signs of t he Pakist ani milit ary or police. Rot or wash whipped t he grass around t hem.
A pair of Army fuelers wearing goggles t o prot ect t heir eyes from debris hauled a hose up
t o t he Black Hawk. As t he rot ors spun, t hey connect ed t he hose t o t he fuel t ank.
To save on weight , t hey want four or five of us t o get off and ride back wit h t he fort y-
seven, Tom shout ed over t he noise of t he helicopt er.
Wit h t he addit ional weight from t he body and a full fuel t ank, we needed t o light en t he
load. The pilot s were going t o err on t he side of safet y. I saw a couple of guys get off, including
Charlie.
Back in Abbot t abad, t he explosion at t he compound had finally at t ract ed t he at t ent ion of
t he Pakist ani milit ary. Unknown t o us, t hey grounded all of t heir aircraft and st art ed a head
count . Wit h everyone account ed for, t hey scrambled t wo F-16 fight ers armed wit h 30mm
cannons and air-t o-air missiles. Pakist ans milit ary has always maint ained a st at e of high alert
against India. Most of t he count rys air defenses are aimed east t oward t hat t hreat . The jet s
roared int o t he sky and raced t oward t he Abbot t abad area.
Sit t ing in t he helicopt er, I checked my wat ch. I was impat ient and want ed t o get back t o
Jalalabad. I want ed t o get out and help. We all did, but I knew t he fuelers had a job just like we
had our job. If I t ried t o help, it would only slow t hings down. And right now, t he success of t he
mission hinged on t he fuelers get t ing t he helicopt er airborne again.
The lone CH-47 t hat ext ract ed t he guys from Chalk Two was long gone when t he jet s
arrived over t he compound.
I wat ched as t he fuelers snapped t he hoses off our helicopt er and dragged t hem back
t oward t he CH-47. The rot ors on t heir helicopt er were st art ing t o spin as t he fuelers rolled t he
hose back up t he ramp. The securit y t eam peeled back and got on board.
One aft er t he ot her, bot h helicopt ers lift ed off and headed west for Afghanist an. No more
blinking light s. Now all we needed t o do was get back across t he border.
I checked my wat ch again. It t ook us t went y minut es t o refuel. In my mind, I could see
Pakist ani jet s chasing us. I didnt know t hen, but t he F-16s circled around Abbot t abad before
widening t heir search.
My brain went back t o t he booklet on Pakist ans air defenses. There was no chance t hey
didnt know we were t here. I just hoped we had a big enough lead on anyt hing chasing us.
For t he first t ime since get t ing t he t en-minut e call before t he assault , I finally t ook my
helmet off. Running my hand t hrough my mat t ed, sweat y hair, I forced all t hought s of jet s and
air-t o-air missiles out of my head. We had roughly fort y-five minut es unt il we got back t o
Jalalabad, and I didnt want t o sit t here and worry. I was grat eful when Tom gave us somet hing
t o do.
Let s search t he body again and make sure we didnt miss anyt hing.
Walt climbed off of Bin Ladens chest and put on a pair of rubber gloves. I slid t he zipper
down, and we pulled t he bag open, exposing t he body. Walt st art ed t o pat him down, first in
front , and t hen he slid his hands along t he bodys sides and back. Then we checked t he
pocket s in his pant s. We were looking for pocket lit t erpapers wit h phone numbers and ot her
informat ion.
As Walt searched, I not iced t he crew chiefs on t he helicopt er were t rying t o get a look at
t he body. Theyd scan out side t he door and t hen st eal a peek over t heir shoulder at t he body.
We waved t hem over and I shined a red-lens flashlight on Bin Ladens face.
Their eyes lit up. They kept smiling. I could see bot h felt proud t o be part of t he mission.
We had t rained wit h t hem since t he first days in Nort h Carolina. Wit hout t hese guys, t here was
no mission. They safely negot iat ed t he Pakist ani air defenses and now were minut es from
get t ing us home. Seeing t heir excit ement , I got my first sense t hat t his was going t o be bigger
t han wed imagined.
Walt didnt find anyt hing. He zipped t he bag up and ret urned t o his seat on Bin Ladens
chest .
I closed my eyes and st art ed t o process what happened. Just more t han an hour ago, I
t hought we were all going t o die in a helicopt er crash. It was funny, t he crash st uck wit h me a
lot longer t han get t ing shot at t hrough t he door. Id been in firefight s, but t he crash was a first .
It happened in slow mot ion. I had t ime t o t hink about it . I could feel t ight ness in my chest
creeping in as I t hought about falling out of t he sky. I could see t he ground rushing up at us.
I had no cont rol, and t hat scared me t he most .
Part of me felt like we had failed despit e t he body at my feet . We werent able t o get as
much int elligence as we could have. We left drawers unopened. The hallway on t he second
deck had st acks of boxes unt ouched. We usually did a bet t er job, but we just ran out of t ime.
We were perfect ionist s, and while t he rest of t he operat ion went smoot hly aft er t he crash, t he
SSE wasnt up t o st andards.
We were always our own worst crit ics.
The radio squawked in my ear, shaking me from my daze.
Were back in Afghan airspace, Tom said.
Id find out lat er t hat we had a good head st art , and t he jet s never got close t o cat ching
us.
Fift een minut es lat er, I could see t he ring of bright light s in Jalalabad. It was a scene Id
experienced hundreds of t imes, and t his t ime didnt feel much different . I knew t hat wed made
it back and in a few minut es wed be on t he ground and safe.
The helicopt er set down just out side of t he hangar. The prot ect ive halo of light s was on,
and a whit e Toyot a Hilux pickup was wait ing for us on t he t armac.
As we climbed out , I could see t hree Army Rangers from t he t ruck coming up t o get t he
body. Theyd been t asked wit h t aking it from J-bad t o Bagram.
The soldiers were led by a first sergeant who Id worked wit h on my last rot at ion. He was
st ill in t he count ry since Id gone home a mont h earlier. Wed run int o each ot her a few t imes in
t he chow hall before t he mission. He was squared away. We had a relat ionship of mut ual
respect .
But as t hey st art ed t o come t oward t he cabin t o grab t he body, we waved t hem off. This
was our mission.
Fuck no, Walt barked. We got t his.
Wed gone all t he way t o Pakist an t o get him. We needed t o see t his t hing all t he way
t hrough.
I grabbed a handle on t he body bag and we carried it t o t he back of t he t ruck. I jumped on
t he t ailgat e, sit t ing backward. I could see everybody else piling out of t he CH-47 and for a
second felt a huge weight being lift ed off my shoulders. Everyone made it back safely.
As we drove, t he first sergeant grabbed my shoulder. When I looked up, he had his hand
out wit h a 75t h Ranger Regiment coin in his palm.
Youll be my sons hero for t he rest of his life, t he first sergeant said. Congrat ulat ions.
I nodded. I was really just happy t hat everyone was alive and home safe. We didnt have
t ime t o t hink about legacy.
CHAPTER 18
Confirmation
Just inside t he hangar, I saw Admiral McRaven.
He was st anding by himself near t he door wit h his hands in his pocket s. He must have
come over from t he Joint Operat ions Cent er as soon as he heard t he radio call t hat we
crossed t he border.
The t ruck st opped just out side t he door of t he hangar, and he came over t o t he back near
t he t ailgat e. He seemed eager t o see t he body.
Let s see him, McRaven said.
OK, sir, I said, sliding off t he t ailgat e.
I grabbed t he bot t om of t he body bag and pulled it off t he t ruck. It flopped on t he cement
floor like a dead fish. Kneeling down, I unzipped t he bag. Almost all of t he color had faded from
his face and his skin looked ashy and gray. The body was mushy, and congealed blood had
pooled at t he bot t om of t he bag.
Theres your boy, I said.
McRaven, dressed in his t an digit al camouflage uniform, st ood over Bin Laden as I grabbed
his beard and pulled his head t o each side so t he admiral could see his profile.
He obviously just dyed his beard, I said. He doesnt look as old as I expect ed he would.
I st ood up and backed away as t he ot hers gat hered around t he body. Many of t he guys
from t he ot her helicopt ers hadnt seen him yet . Soon, t here was a crowd around McRaven, who
had knelt down t o get a bet t er look.
He is supposed t o be six foot four, McRaven said, scanning t he crowd.
I saw him point .
How t all are you?
One of t he SEALs answered. Six four, he said.
Do you mind lying down next t o him? McRaven said.
Aft er a quick double t ake t o make sure McRaven wasnt just fucking wit h him, t he SEAL
got down beside t he body bag as McRaven eyeballed t he measurement .
OK. OK, McRaven said. St and back up.
The measurement was most ly a joke. But Bin Laden didnt look quit e like we had imagined.
I am sure McRaven was having t he same t hought s I had back on t he t hird deck.
St anding at t he edge of t he crowd, I saw Jen. She looked pale and st ressed under t he
bright light s of t he hangar. Guys were st ill walking int o t he hangar when she saw Ali. He smiled
at her and she st art ed crying. A couple of t he SEALs put t heir arms around her and walked her
over t o t he edge of t he group t o look at t he body, which surprised me.
A few days before in t he chow hall, Jen had t old me she didnt want t o see Bin Ladens
body.
I have no int erest in seeing it , she t old me. My job descript ion doesnt include having t o
look at a dead body.
I was sure t his was some sort of bravado. She didnt have t o get dirt y in her line of work.
She wore expensive high heels and she didnt worry about carrying dead weight t o a wait ing
helicopt er. Shed beat en Bin Laden on an int ellect ual level.
If we pull t his off, I had t old her from across t he t able, youve got t o see t he body.
Back in t he hangar, Jen st ayed on t he perimet er of t he crowd. She didnt say anyt hing, but
Back in t he hangar, Jen st ayed on t he perimet er of t he crowd. She didnt say anyt hing, but
I knew from her react ion she could see Bin Ladens body on t he floor. Wit h t ears rolling down
her cheeks, I could t ell it was t aking a while for Jen t o process. Shed spent half a decade
t racking t his man. And now t here he was at her feet .
It was easier for us.
We saw dead bodies all t he t ime. It was t he kind of ugly we lived wit h, and we spent no
t ime t hinking about once it was finished. We were not jaded warmongers, but if youve seen
one dead body, youve seen t hem all.
People at Jens level never had t o deal wit h t he blood. So t o finally see Bin Ladens body at
her feet must have been jarring.
I wandered away from t he crowd. Leaning against t he t ruck, I set down my rifle on t he
t ailgat e and st uffed my gloves int o one of my cargo pocket s. Most of t he guys were back now
and coming int o t he hangar. There were a lot of smiles.
Teddy was one of t he last guys t o walk int o t he hangar. I could t ell by his face he was mad
and maybe even a lit t le embarrassed by t he helicopt er crash. I int ercept ed him as he walked
int o t he hangar and gave him a crushing bear hug.
Teddy, I said. Youre t he heat .
He gave me a sheepish smile and t ried t o wiggle out of my grip.
Dude, seriously, I said.
I know for a fact he kept t he mission on t rack by dit ching t he way he did. Everybody was
focused on who pulled t he t rigger but it was a lot harder t o land a crashing helicopt er t han it
was for any of us t o pull t he t rigger. One wrong move and we all would have been in a pile of
debris in t he court yard. Teddy saved all of our lives.
St rong work, Walt said, giving me a handshake t hat t urned int o a hug.
For t he next few minut es, we all rot at ed around, congrat ulat ing one anot her. People were
st ill coming int o t he hangar. I dont remember who I t alked t o as much as I do how it felt t o be
back safe.
It didnt t ake long for t he shit -t alking t o st art .
Blow up t he house? Really? I heard Charlie say t o t he EOD guy.
Eventually, we got t oget her for a few posed pict ures. We were one big t eam. As soon as
t he pict ure-t aking ended, we all went back int o work mode. Our five minut es of fun was over
and it was t ime t o get t o Bagram t o get t he int elligence processed.
The Rangers had already packed up t he body and were on t heir way t o Bagram. We were
following close behind in anot her plane. On t he flight line, we loaded all our gear and st rapped it
down t o t he deck of t he C-130. We walked on board st ill wearing our kit and carrying our
weapons. There were few seat s, so I found a spot near t he front of t he plane and sat down.
Nearby, I could see Jen sobbing. She was sit t ing on t he floor, hugging her legs t o her chest
in t he fet al posit ion. I could just make out her eyes in t he red light of t he cabin. They were
puffy, and she seemed t o be st aring int o t he dist ance. I got up and t apped her on t he shoulder.
Hey, it was one hundred percent ! I said, leaning close so she could hear over t he roar of
t he engines.
She looked at me in a daze.
Seriously, no shit , I said. It was one hundred percent .
She nodded t his t ime and st art ed crying again. I scrambled back t o my seat on t he floor as
t he aircrew shut t he cabin light s off. Minut es lat er, we were airborne and headed t o Bagram.
For most of t he fort y-five-minut e flight I zoned out . I didnt really sleep but just rest ed. I knew
we had hours of work left t o do.
The C-130 let us out at a hangar along t he flight line. Inside, a small cadre of FBI and CIA
specialist s wait ed t o help us go t hrough all t he papers, t humb drives, and comput ers we
recovered from t he compound. As we walked int o t he hangar, it caught me off guard t o see
t hat t he analyst s were all st anding at t heir individual t ables wit h t heir hands folded behind
t hem like in milit ary parade rest .
A ring of t ables wit h green plast ic t ubs full of food sat in one corner. Piled high in t he
cont ainers were chicken fingers and French fries. A large coffee maker was pumping out one
awful cup of coffee aft er anot her. It had been at least seven hours since we had eat en
breakfast , but nobody t ouched t he food. We had work t o do.
Just inside t he door, we st art ed t o offload our gear. As I pulled off my kit , I could feel pain
shoot t hrough my shoulder. It wasnt sharp, but t here was a nagging, dull ache. I t ried t o push
my shoulder forward enough t o get a look, but I couldnt see any blood.
Hey, Walt , is t here somet hing on my shoulder? I asked.
He was unloading his gear t oo.
It doesnt look like anyt hing crazy, he said. Looks like you caught some frag. Not bad
enough where you need t o get st it ches.
Inspect ing my gear, I grabbed t he bolt cut t ers on my back and felt a shard of met al cut
int o my fingert ip. Holding t he bolt cut t ers in my hand, I saw a good-size chunk of shrapnel
embedded in t he handle.
From a bullet , I t hought .
When al-Kuwait i opened fire, fragment s from t he rounds must have hit me before I fired
back. The cut t ers rode high on my back, so t he handle was only a few inches from my head. I
was damn lucky none of t he shrapnel hit me in t he neck.
Aft er a quick aft er-act ion review t o go over t he mission, we st art ed t o unload all of t he
st uff wed t aken from t he house. It had been ingrained in us from BUD/S t o t ake care of t eam
gear, t hen depart ment gear, and t hen personal gear.
We divided t he t ables int o groups corresponding wit h each room on t he t arget . I t ook all of
my bags t o t he t able for t he main compound, t hird deck, room A. Opening t he mesh sack, I
st art ed t o unload t he st uff I collect ed. I st acked t he t apes Id t aken off his dresser and put t he
pist ol and rifle on t he t able.
On t he whit e board, we drew a diagram of t he inside of t he compound and t hen laid out
floor plans for t he main building and t he guest house. I t ook my camera over t o where one of
t he SEALs was helping t he CIA analyst download all t he pict ures from our digit al cameras.
How are all t he pics coming out so far? I asked, handing over my camera.
So far so good, he said.
As t he images of Bin Ladens body popped up on his screen, I was relieved. Since we had
t he body, t he pict ures werent absolut ely vit al anymore. But I could just imagine if I fucked up
t he pict ures I would never hear t he end it from Charlie and Walt .
You good? I asked.
Looks good here, t he analyst said. That s all we need.
I had no idea if t he phot os would ever be made public, and frankly I didnt care. That
decision was well above my level and out of my cont rol. I could hear t he guys t alking t o t he CIA
analyst s about t he st uff t heyd gat hered.
Dude, were so sorry, said one of my t eammat es who searched t he second deck. There
was so much more st uff. We didnt have enough t ime. We could have done bet t er.
The CIA analyst almost laughed when he heard my t eammat e.
Youre good, he said. St op worrying about it . Look at all t his shit . This is going t o t ake us
mont hs t o go t hrough it all. We got more here t han weve got t en in t he past t en years.
The int elligence t urnover t ook more t han t wo hours. At t he front of t he hangar and about
t hirt y feet away from t he t ables, I could see t he FBIs DNA specialist t aking samples from Bin
Ladens body. As soon as he was finished, t he Rangers escort ed t he body t o t he USS Carl
Vinson for burial.
Finished wit h t he SSE t urnover, I st art ed packing up my op gear. I cleared and safed my
weapon, swit ched off t he opt ics, and packed it in it s case. Hoist ing my kit ont o t he t able, I
st ripped off t he unused grenade and explosive charge. There was no reason t o bring t hem
home.
I was just finishing up when Jen and Ali came over. They were leaving in a few minut es t o
fly back t o t he Unit ed St at es. The Air Force had an empt y C-17 wait ing t o t ake t hem home.
She gave me a hug.
I dont know when well see you guys again, she said, walking t oward t he door wit h Ali.
Be safe.
She had mont hs of int elligence t o sift t hrough based on t he raid, which would keep her
busy. But unlike us, t his hunt had been her life. Walking away, she seemed relieved and
exhaust ed at t he same t ime. For someone who spent most of t he last decade t rying t o find
him, Im sure it wasnt somet hing she could easily walk away from.
With most of our gear packed up, guys st art ed snacking on some of t he cold food. We
made our way over t o t he large-screen TV t hat had been set up at t he back of t he hangar.
President Obama was about t o speak. Everybody st opped and huddled around it .
Rumor had it t hat JSOC had reviewed t he speech t o make sure t he det ails of t he mission
were kept secret . Nobody doubt ed t hat det ails would event ually leak but at t his point , I t hink
we all just hoped t hat President Obama could keep a secret for a lit t le while.
I give it a week before t hey say SEALs were involved, I said t o Walt .
Shit , I dont even give it a day, he said.
At around 9:45 P.M. East ern Time, t he Whit e House announced Obama was going t o
address t he nat ion. By 10:30, t he first leaks about Bin Laden were making t he rounds. Navy
Reserve int elligence officer Keit h Urbahn was credit ed wit h breaking t he news on Twit t er.
Soon, all of t he major newspapers and TV news st at ions were report ing t hat Bin Laden was
dead.
At 11:35 P.M., President Obama appeared on t elevision. He walked down a long hall and
t ook his posit ion behind t he podium. St aring st raight int o t he camera, he t old t he world what
we had done.
Good evening. Tonight , I can report t o t he American people and t o t he world t hat t he
Unit ed St at es has conduct ed an operat ion t hat killed Osama bin Laden, t he leader of al
Qaeda, and a t errorist whos responsible for t he murder of t housands of innocent men, women,
and children.
We all list ened quiet ly.
Obama went on t o t hank t he milit ary for hunt ing al Qaeda and prot ect ing American
cit izens.
Weve disrupt ed t errorist at t acks and st rengt hened our homeland defense. In
Afghanist an, we removed t he Taliban government , which had given Bin Laden and al Qaeda
safe haven and support . And around t he globe, we worked wit h our friends and allies t o
capt ure or kill scores of al Qaeda t errorist s, including several who were a part of t he 9/11 plot ,
Obama said.
The president st ressed t hat soon aft er being elect ed, he t old Leon Panet t a t o make killing
or capt uring Bin Laden a priorit y and out lined how we found him. That part of t he speech was
deft ly craft ed and didnt reveal any harmful det ails.
Today, at my direct ion, t he Unit ed St at es launched a t arget ed operat ion against t hat
compound in Abbot t abad, Pakist an. A small t eam of Americans carried out t he operat ion wit h
ext raordinary courage and capabilit y, Obama said. No Americans were harmed. They t ook
care t o avoid civilian casualt ies. Aft er a firefight , t hey killed Osama bin Laden and t ook cust ody
of his body.
None of us were huge fans of Obama. We respect ed him as t he commander in chief of t he
milit ary and for giving us t he green light on t he mission.
You know we just put admirals st ars on Jay, Walt said during t he speech. And we just
got t his guy reelect ed.
Well, would you rat her not have done t his? I said.
We all knew t he deal.
We were t ools in t heir t oolbox, and when t hings go well t hey promot e it . They inflat e t heir
roles. But we should have done it . It was t he right call t o make. Regardless of t he polit ics t hat
would come along wit h it , t he end result was what we all want ed.
McRaven will be running SOCOM in a year and will probably be CNO someday, I said.
Obama called t he mission t he most significant achievement t o dat e in our nat ions effort
t o defeat al Qaeda and t hanked us for our sacrifice.
The American people do not see t heir work, nor know t heir names, he said.
Wed expect ed him t o give away det ails. If he had, we could have t alked some smack. But I
didnt t hink his speech was bad at all. If anyt hing, it was kind of ant iclimact ic.
OK, enough of t his, I said t o Walt . Let s go find some food or at least a hot shower.
Word went out we had a flight home in a few hours. I found my backpack wit h my civilian
clot hes and boarded a bus for t he JSOC compound. The t eam decided t o t ry and squeeze in
showers before heading back t o Virginia Beach.
The compound had a handful of shower t railers. St anding under t he scalding wat er, I could
feel my body slowly st art ing t o unwind.
Plus, I was hungry.
DEVGRU has a small sect ion of t he JSOC compound. It was our ground mobilit y shop.
Basically, t hey kept all of our t rucks, mot orcycles, four-wheelers, and Humvees working. A SEAL
headed it up and worked wit h a bunch of Seabees and mechanics.
The flight home got delayed a few hours, so we made ourselves at home. Inside t he work
area, t he garage was lit t ered wit h part s, t ools, and vehicles in all phases of repair. We gat hered
in a small office area wit h a sit t ing room and lounge. The SEAL who ran t he shop welcomed us
wit h open arms.
What do you need? he said.
Comprised of a few modular buildings and a covered mot or pool, t hey had carved out a
small pat io wit h a brick pizza oven and a large gas grill. Walt walked around t he pat io passing
around a box of cigars t he NRA had sent him weeks before t o welcome him home from
deployment . They had no idea wed smoke t hem t o celebrat e t he mission t hat killed Bin Laden.
Everybody was t here except Jay, Mike, and Tom. The head shed were st ill over at t he
airfield briefing Admiral McRaven.
We spent most of t he t ime on t he pat io soaking up t he warm spring sun. The Seabees
who lived at t he compound were firing up t he grill t o cook st eaks and lobst er t ail t hey had
liberat ed from t he chow hall. I could smell popcorn in t he office and pizza cooking in t he brick
oven.
I was half asleep on t he pat io get t ing some sun when I heard someone yell out .
You guys arent going t o believe t his shit . It s already out .
At one of t he comput er t erminals, t he t eam leader of t he perimet er securit y t eam was
reading t he news sit es. It t ook less t han four hours before t he news was report ing t hat it was
SEALs who had carried out t he mission. Then it was SEALs from DEVGRU based in Virginia
Beach.
The mission had been secret for almost a mont h now, and suddenly it was all over t he
news. We wat ched foot age of t he crowds t hat spont aneously gat hered out side t he Whit e
House, Ground Zero, and t he Pent agon. At a Major League baseball game in Philadelphia, fans
st art ed t o chant U-S-A. Everyone comment ed about how young t hey looked. Kids like t hat
didnt know what t he Unit ed St at es was like before Sept ember 11, 2001.
We wat ched t he madness on TV, and I couldnt help but wonder what my friends and
family were t hinking back at home. Nobody knew I was in Afghanist an. I t old my parent s I was
out of t own t raining and wouldnt have my cell phone. I was sure everybody was calling my
phone t rying t o see where I was.
The sun was warm as we sat out side and at e. Now full, all I could t hink about was sleep.
The bus came back a few hours lat er t o t ake us t o t he plane. The adrenaline was gone as we
dragged ourselves on board.
The C-17 was empt y except for t he aircrew.
Our cont ainers boarded first and t hen we followed, spreading our ground pads on t he
deck. As we got set t led, I could see t he crew chiefs t alking wit h t he pilot s. Air Force C-17 flight s
are always hit or miss. Somet imes youll score a cool aircrew t hat will let you sleep wherever
you want , while ot hers are by-t he-book and keep you in your seat s.
As t he planes engines warmed up, t he crew chief got on t he int ercom.
Hey, guys, were not st opping in Germany so well be get t ing gas from an airborne t anker
in rout e back t o t he Unit ed St at es, he said. You guys get some sleep.
They obviously figured out who t heir passengers were, and t he crew was cool enough t o
let us get some much-needed sleep. Typically, we st op in Germany for gas. Everybody was
st oked t he aircrew was going t o be cool and t hat we were going t o fly st raight t hrough. At t his
point wed been up for almost t went y-four hours. Takeoff was quiet and t hen t he plane
headed west .
We were spent .
The media blit z we had just seen on TV and online was jarring. I dont t hink anybody was
prepared for it . But st ret ching out on t he deck of t he C-17, I didnt have t he energy t o give a
shit . My mind needed t o t urn off.
I t ook t wo Ambien and was fast asleep before we got out of Afghan airspace.
CHAPTER 19
Touch the Magic
My phone vibrat ed, pinged, buzzed, and beeped as it st art ed t o receive a days wort h of
messages.
Seconds aft er our C-17 landed in Virginia Beach, every one of us t urned on a phone t o a
cacophony of ring t ones. I placed my phone next t o me while it pract ically popped like corn in a
ket t le.
While we cruised over t he At lant ic, news of t he raid dominat ed TV and t he Web.
Report ers flooded Virginia Beach searching for real live Navy SEALs t o int erview. In
Washingt on, anyone on Capit ol Hill or in t he Pent agon who had even a shred of informat ion
was leaking it .
When my phone finally st opped, I st art ed t o scroll t hrough t he messages. People had no
idea Id been on t he raid. But anybody and everybody t hat knew I was a SEAL cont act ed me t o
t alk about it . I had messages from my family and even friends from college who I hadnt t alked
t o in years. All t he messages were t he same:
Hey, buddy, what s going on? Im wat ching t he news. Just wondering if youre in t own.
It was so t op secret when we left t hat we werent even t elling people in our own unit
where we were going. But now, I had close t o one hundred e-mails, fift y voice mails, and t hree
dozen t ext messages asking me if I happened t o be in Pakist an or if I knew what was going on.
My family just want ed t o know if I was in t own and safe.
The plane barely came t o a st op when t he crew door popped open and t he old
commander of our squadron sprint ed aboard. He was wait ing t o t ake command of DEVGRU.
They had delayed t he change of command unt il aft er t his mission, so he was not wit h us in
Afghanist an. He was one of t he best leaders Ive ever worked for. All of t he guys loved him
because he always had our back.
As we gat hered up our backpacks, he walked down t he line giving everyone a handshake
and hug. He want ed t o be t he first t o welcome us back. We were st ill shaking off t he haze of
t he Ambien, so it was kind of surreal t o see his lanky frame and bald head move down t he line.
This was t he first sign t hat our welcome home would be bigger t han we ant icipat ed.
The whine of t he engines made it hard t o hear as we got off t he plane. It was pit ch-black
out side. Moving from t he bright cabin int o t he night made it worse. It t ook a few seconds for my
eyes t o adjust , but when t hey did I saw about t wo hundred of my t eammat es lined up t o greet
us. I could make out t heir silhouet t es as I walked t oward t he whit e buses t hat would t ake us t o
our base. It was about a fift y-yard walk t o t he bus and I shook at least a hundred hands.
We always t ried t o meet t he plane when squadrons ret urned home. It st ruck me t hat
anybody st anding in t hat line shaking our hands could have been in our shoes. We just
happened t o be at t he right place at t he right t ime. I felt really lucky.
I didnt have but a few seconds t o yell out a hello or mumble a t hank-you as I passed. We
were exhaust ed and a lit t le overwhelmed when we got t o t he bus.
Thankfully, t here was a cooler full of beer and some hot pizza wait ing for us. I set t led
silent ly int o my seat . Holding my backpack bet ween my legs, I balanced my phone on my t high
as I at e and sipped a beer. I looked around t he bus. Everybody had t heir noses st uck in t heir
phones t rying t o sift t hrough t he glut of messages. Roughly t went y-four hours ago, President
Obama had addressed t he nat ion about t he raid.
For t he first t ime, it st art ed t o sink in. This was pret t y cool. It was t he kind of mission Id
read about in Alaska as a kid. It was hist ory. But just as quickly as t hose t hought s crossed my
mind, I forced t hem out . The second you st op and believe your own hype, youve lost .
Back at t he command, I didnt even go inside. Our gear and weapons were placed in our
st orage bay and locked. There was no need t o unload everyt hing, and we were lucky enough
t o have t he next few days off work. I t hrew my civilian backpack int o my t ruck and headed
home. I didnt want t o go out and hit t he bars and celebrat e. I just want ed some quiet . The
welcome was overwhelming enough.
On t he way home, I spot t ed t he neon drive-t hrough sign at t he Taco Bell. I always
st opped for a sout h of t he border fix on my way home from a deployment , usually in Germany. I
had made t his st op several t imes over t he years. Pulling int o t he line, I ordered t wo crispy
t acos, a bean burrit o, and a medium Pepsi.
At t he window, a high school kid handed me my food and drink. I pulled forward int o t he
parking lot and t ook out a t aco. I spread t he paper in my lap and drizzled some fire sauce over
t he cold, crisp let t uce and at e.
On t he radio, I had t he count ry music st at ion playing. Bet ween bit es, I t ried t o make sense
of everyt hing. Days before, Id been choking down chow hall food and t rying t o keep t he
mission out of my head. Now, I was eat ing Taco Bell in a parking lot on my way home and st ill
t rying t o keep it out of my head.
I needed a few days off.
We joked before we left Bagram about get t ing some t ime off. I knew t he rest of my
squadron was off t he coast of Virginia pract icing underways. The command had rent ed a
cruise ship and filled it wit h role players. It was a massive and expensive t raining event . It
always sounded more fun t han it really was. Inevit ably, it t urned int o hours in t he cold wat er
being pounded by waves as you climb up t he side of a ship.
Aft er t he final bit e of t he bean burrit o, I rolled up t he paper and t hrew it back in t he bag.
Taking a big sip of my drink, I put my t ruck in gear and headed home. Before I could relax, I
unpacked and t ook a long shower.
But I was st ill pret t y wired. I had just slept for ninet een hours. The TV was on, and I st art ed
t o surf t he cable news channels. Every show was airing somet hing relat ed t o t he mission. Most
of it was speculat ion.
They report ed t hat we were in a fort y-minut e firefight .
Then I saw t hat wed t aken fire while we were out side t he gat e.
Then, Bin Laden had a weapon and at t empt ed t o defend himself before we shot him.
And of course it was report ed, in Bin Ladens last seconds, he had enough t ime t o look int o
our eyes and see t hat it was Americans coming t o get him.
The raid was being report ed like a bad act ion movie. At first , it was funny because it was
so wrong.
But t hen phot os of t he compound flashed across t he screen. For weeks it had been t op
secret and now here it was all over t he news. I saw wreckage of t he helicopt er. The charges
dest royed t he fuselage but t here was st ill a sect ion of t he t ail rot or t hat survived. When t he
explosives det onat ed, t he t ail sect ion broke off and fell ont o t he ground on t he out side of t he
wall.
The Reut ers wire service even had pict ures of t he bodies we left behind. On t he screen,
shot s of t he al-Kuwait i brot hersincluding Abrar, who Will and I shot t hrough t he door of t he
guest houseflashed on t he screen. A pict ure of where Bin Ladens body had been came on
next . I could see t he dried blood on t he rug.
I st ruggled t o wrap my mind around it .
To see t hese images on prime-t ime t elevision was hard for me t o deal wit h. The images
broke t hrough t he t iny compart ment in my brain t hat Id placed t his whole experience in. I had
no barrier bet ween home and work now. Ive always been good at ment ally blocking out t he
work Id done overseas. When I was home, I was home. Seeing t hese images was like
crossing t he t wo st reams and it made my head hurt .
I didnt sleep well t hat night . Id squirreled away a couple of Ambien. There was no way I
was going t o sleep wit hout t hem.
For t he next t wo days, I dodged calls from friends and family. My phone wouldnt st op
ringing. My family was asking me if I was involved. My parent s knew Id been gone, but t hey
didnt know where.
Before I left , I had called t hem and said I was going t o t rain and wouldnt have phone
service. I always t ried t o keep t hings vague wit h t hem. I had sent my sist ers a random t ext
message before we left simply t elling t hem t hat I loved t hem bot h. It wasnt a red flag at t he
t ime, but aft er t he news broke, my sist ers knew I must be up t o somet hing.
The day aft er we got home, I was t aking my t rash can t o t he curb when my neighbor from
across t he st reet walked over and gave me a huge hug. She knew I was a SEAL and not iced I
had been gone for a few days.
You never really know what your neighbors do for a living, do you? she said as she
smiled and walked back t o her house.
It was t he same for my t eammat es. One buddy barely got in t he door before he was back
changing diapers.
So I get home and she hands me my kid right away, my buddy said when we got back t o
work. We just shot UBL. Think I can sit down and drink a beer?
Anot her spent t he morning aft er he got home mowing his overgrown lawn. We might have
been get t ing t he celebrit y t reat ment in t he media, but at home we were just absent husbands.
When we finally came back t o work officially t wo days lat er, Jay called us int o a meet ing in
t he same conference room where we first heard about t he mission. There was concern at t he
command level about all t he leaks revolving around t he raid.
It is imperat ive t hat we st ay out of t he media, Jay said. Let s all make sure were keeping
a low profile.
I was ast onished. Wed kept t his whole t hing under wraps for weeks. Now, Washingt on
was leaking everyt hing, and we were going t o get t he lect ure for it . It felt like it was only a
mat t er of t ime before some of our names appeared on t he news. We just killed t he number one
t errorist in t he world. The last t hing we needed was our names at t ached t o it . We simply
want ed t o fade back int o t he shadows and go back t o work.
Wit h t hat out of t he way, Jay said, here is your schedule. Take a week off.
But not a real week off, right , Walt said.
I heard a chuckle from some of t he ot hers.
When does t he dog and pony show st art ? I said.
The agency will be down in a few days, Jay said. SecDef is also planning a visit soon. We
will pass t he word on t he schedule once we have it . Enjoy t he break.
This t ime I laughed.
Come on, everybody want s t o t ouch t he magic, Tom said as we walked out of t he
conference room.
The mission hadnt been t hat complicat ed or difficult .
Weeks and mont hs aft er t he mission, det ails about t he raid were appearing wit h a
renewed focus on t he unit . It raised a lot of concerns for our personal safet y. Most of us had
already invest ed in home securit y syst ems.
Some of us voiced concerns t o Jay and Mike at what seemed like a weekly meet ing.
What if our names are leaked t o t he media? I said.
ABC News had come out wit h a ridiculous st ory about how t o spot a SEAL. Report er Chris
Cuomo report ed t hat t he SEAL who shot Bin Laden was probably a physically fit whit e man in
his t hirt ies wit h a beard and longer hair. Then Cuomo did what t he ot her report ers did. They
found any SEAL who would t alk about us, in t his case DEVGRU founder Richard Marcinko.
They have gazelle legs, no waist , and a huge upper body configurat ion, and almost a
ment al block t hat says, I will not fail, Marcinko t old Cuomo.
Ot her t ellt ale t rait s: calloused hands from firing a weapon, shrapnel wounds from previous
missions, and big egos.
They are basically individual egomaniacs t hat make music t oget her. They learn t o
depend on each ot her. When t hey are bored t hey play wit h each ot her t o keep pushing.
Ot herwise, t hey get in t rouble, Marcinko t old ABC News.
We laughed our asses off. I know he was a founder of DEVGRU, but he was hopelessly
out of t ouch wit h t he modern force. I didnt know a single SEAL who fit his profile. Wed evolved
past being egomaniacs. There wasnt a soldier, sailor, airman, or Marine in t he special
operat ions communit y t hat fit his profile. It wasnt part of our et hos. We were t eam players who
always t ried t o do t he right t hing.
But we werent in t he meet ing t o t alk about leaks and securit y concerns.
Keep t his on t he down low because nobody knows t his, Jay said. Youre going t o meet
t he president in Kent ucky t omorrow.
Wit h t he dog and pony circuit in full effect , we had assumed it was coming.
Well fly up in civilian clot hes and t hen change int o our uniforms t o meet t he president ,
Jay said.
They dismissed us, and we were done for t he day. On t he way t o my t ruck, my phone
buzzed.
It was a t ext message from my sist er.
I hear youre going t o meet t he president t omorrow, she said. Make sure you dont wear
short s so t hey dont see your gazelle-t ype legs and know youre a SEAL.
So much for operat ional securit y.
The next morning, we left on one of t he oldest C-130s Id ever seen. It had a new paint job,
which masked it s age from t he out side. But get t ing on board, t he inside looked old. Everyt hing
was faded.
As we climbed up t he ramp, none of us were impressed. We were used t o flying around in
much newer C-130s or even C-17s.
So much for rock st ar st at us, Charlie said as he folded his six-foot -four frame int o t he
orange jump seat . I guess our fift een minut es of fame are over.
But a plaque near t he door t old us t he t rue st ory. The plane was one of t hree MC-130E
Combat Talon I aircraft used in Operat ion Eagle Claw.
It t urns out a crew chief found t he plane mot hballed and t alked an Air Force general int o
renovat ing it and ret urning it t o t he invent ory. It was sort of fit t ing t hat wed fly t o Kent ucky t o
meet t he president on t hat plane. It had a lot of hist ory and I guess it had at least one more
hist oric flight in it .
From t he airport , we t ook back roads t o t he 160t h Special Operat ions Aviat ion Regiment s
headquart ers, where Teddy and t he aircrews were based. President Obama was scheduled t o
t alk wit h t housands of t roops from t he 101st Airborne Division aft er meet ing wit h us.
They ushered us int o a large conference room t o wait . Along t he back wall was a t able
piled high wit h gourmet sandwiches, chips, cookies, and soft drinks.
Were moving up in t he world, I said. This is way bet t er t han cold chicken fingers. Do you
t hink t hey are going t o make us pay for t his?
On one of t he t ables near t he door was a framed flag. It was one of t he flags we carried on
t he mission. Guys were signing t he back of t he frame and t he plan was t o present it t o t he
president .
Why do I need t o sign t his? I asked Tom.
Like always, he was running t hings while Jay and Mike met wit h t he higher-ups.
Everybody t hat was on t he raid needs t o sign it , he said.
Why? I just want ed an explanat ion.
It s going t o t he president , Tom said, growing t ired of my quest ions.
How many hands does it pass t hrough before it get s hung on t he wall? I asked. Dont
t hey have t ours of t he Whit e House?
The only t hing t hat remained secret was our names.
I went over t o t he ot her guys.
Is everybody signing t his t hing?
Most of t he guys had already signed it .
Just scribble a random name on t here and youll be good, Charlie said. That s what I did.
Aft er a lot of hurry up and wait , we finally walked t o an audit orium t o meet t he president .
The Secret Service ran us t hrough a met al det ect or. When t hey got t o me, t he wand beeped
when it passed over my pocket knife. I t ook my knife out and added it t o t he growing pile.
There was a small st age wit h rows of chairs in front .
Walt sat down next t o me.
Id rat her be doing underways t han be here, he said.
Obama arrived in a dark suit , whit e shirt , and light blue t ie. Vice President Biden was at his
side in a blue shirt and red t ie. The president st ood on t he st age and spoke t o us for a few
minut es. He present ed t he unit wit h a President ial Unit Cit at ion, in recognit ion of our
achievement . It is t he highest honor t hat can be given t o a unit .
I dont recall much about t he speech. It was st raight from t he speechwrit er playbook:
You guys are Americas best .
You are what America st ands for.
Thank you from t he American people.
Job well done.
Aft er t he speech, we posed for a few pict ures. Biden kept cracking lame jokes t hat no one
got . He seemed like a nice guy, but he reminded me of someones drunken uncle at Christ mas
dinner. Before leaving t o give a speech t o t wo t housand soldiers from t he 101st , Obama
invit ed t he whole t eam t o his residence for a beer.
What is t he residence? I asked.
I dont know, Walt said. His house. The Whit e House, I guess.
That would be kind of cool, I said. I wouldnt mind going t o t he residence.
Walt just smirked.
As t he bus drove us t o t he airport , Obama delivered a speech t o cheering soldiers in a
hangar on t he base.
We have cut off t heir head, he said, and we will ult imat ely defeat t hem our st rat egy is
working, and t here is no great er evidence of t hat t han just ice finally being delivered t o Osama
bin Laden.
Aft er t hat t rip, t hings st art ed t o ret urn t o normal. We jumped back int o our normal
schedule, gone for a few weeks and t hen home for a week. We were back on t he speeding
t rain.
We never got t he call t o have a beer at t he Whit e House. I remember I brought it up a few
mont hs lat er t o Walt . Wed just come back from t he range and we were walking back int o t he
t eam room.
Hey, did you ever hear anyt hing about t hat beer? I asked.
Walt s smirk was back.
You believed t hat shit , he said. I bet you vot ed for change t oo, sucker.
Epilogue
Less than a year aft er t he Bin Laden mission, I got off t he speeding t rain.
Id spent over a decade of my life sacrificing for t his job and count ry. I gave up everyt hing
t o live t his dream. Long periods spent away from friends and family, missed holidays, and a
physical beat ing on my body t hat will last t he rest of my life. I served wit h Americas best and
made lifelong friends wit h a group of guys I call my brot hers. Since my first deployment as a
SEAL and t he at t acks on Sept ember 11, Id dreamt of being involved in t he mission t hat would
kill or capt ure Osama bin Laden. I was lucky enough t o play a role. Now, it is t ime for someone
else t o t ake a t urn.
Very few people can say t hat t hey were lucky enough t o st ay in an operat ional job t heir
ent ire SEAL career. From t he day I graduat ed BUD/S, I moved t o SEAL Team Five and t hen on
t o DEVGRU. I never worked a nonoperat ional job. In more t han a decade as a SEAL, I didnt
have a break, just a st eady drumbeat of combat deployment s. Aft er finishing my t eam leader
t ime earlier t his year, I was slat ed t o leave my squadron and eit her be an inst ruct or in Green
Team or work one of several ot her nonoperat ional jobs wit hin t he command. These jobs were
far from t he bat t lefield and, t o be perfect ly honest , probably just t he break t hat I needed. I
knew aft er t hat short break, I would be it ching t o get back int o t he fight . Like everyone at t he
command, my personal life suffered under t he st rain of deployment s. It was t ime for my own life
t o t ake a priorit y. As much as I hat ed leaving t he command, it was t ime for me t o move on and
end my career as a SEAL.
Before I left , I met wit h t he commander who welcomed us home aft er t he raid. He was now
t he act ing commander of DEVGRU. I knew t hat as a well-respect ed commanding officer, he
act ually underst ood t he st resses we lived under. We met in his office a few days before I was
scheduled t o sign out of t he command.
What can we do t o keep you? t he commander said.
I was honored he want ed me t o st ay. But I looked him in t he eye and humbly shook my
head.
It s t ime for me t o move on, I said.
Alt hough I felt a cert ain amount of guilt , like I was leaving my brot hers behind t o carry t he
load, I was at peace wit h my decision. There were newer guys, fresh from Green Team, who
were primed and ready t o lead t he fight . I was simply t ired and ready for somet hing new.
It was st range t o leave Walt , Charlie, St eve, and Tom behind. We are all st ill friends, and all
four are st ill at t he command. For t heir prot ect ion, Im not going t o t alk much about what t he
guys are doing now. They are all st ill sacrificing t heir lives and t ime for t he good of t his count ry.
Phil fully recovered from t he gunshot wound in his calf. He is st ill a t ier-one prankst er and
remains one of my best friends. Like me, he is no longer in t he Navy, having ret ired aft er his
injury.
One of my first project s aft er leaving was t his book. Deciding t o do it wasnt easy. No one
at t he command t hought much of t he not oriet y t hat came aft er t he Bin Laden raid. We
wat ched it wit h amusement at first , but t hat quickly t urned t o dread as more and more
informat ion leaked. We always prided ourselves for being t he quiet professionals, but t he more
I saw coverage of t he raid, t he more I want ed t o set t he record st raight .
To dat e, how t he mission t o kill Bin Laden has been report ed is wrong. Even report s
claiming t o have t he inside st ory have been incorrect . I felt like someone had t o t ell t he t rue
st ory. To me, t he st ory is bigger t han t he raid it self and much more about t he men at t he
command who willingly go int o harms way, sacrificing all t hey have t o do t he job. Theirs is a
st ory t hat deserves t o be t old, and t old as accurat ely as possible.
Since May 1, 2011, everyone from President Obama t o Admiral McRaven has given
int erviews about t he operat ion. If my commander in chief is willing t o t alk, t hen I feel
comfort able doing t he same.
Of course, t he raid is now being used in a polit ical wrest ling mat ch as bot h part ies fight for
t he Whit e House. The mission was never about t hat for t he t went y-four men who climbed on
board t he helicopt ers t hat night . Polit ics are for t he Washingt on, D.C., policy makers who safely
wat ched t he act ion on a video monit or from t housands of miles away.
When we boarded our helicopt ers in Jalalabad, polit ics was t he last t hing on our minds.
Dont get me wrong. We werent oblivious t o it . We knew t his was going t o happen. Does it play
a role in t he aft ermat h? Of course it does, but I dont t hink it mat t ers if a Republican or a
Democrat gave t he order. It doesnt make me vot e for one part y more t han anot her.
Let me be clear, I do not consider t his t o be my st ory. My goal from t he st art was t o t ell t he
t rue st ory of t he raid and show t he sacrifices made by SEALs at t he command. I only used my
life as a way t o describe what it is like t o be part of such a special unit . I am not unique or
special, and my hope is my experiences are viewed as a common experience for all of t he men I
served wit h. The men I looked up t o, t he men I worked wit h, t hose men are t he best in t he
world and have done more for t his count ry t han people will ever comprehend.
For t he fallen SEALs who didnt make it home, t heir sacrifice is not in vain. Some were lost
fight ing in Iraq or Afghanist an. Ot hers died t raining t o fight . We hold all of t hem close t o our
heart s and know t hey died for somet hing so much bigger t hen t hemselves. Despit e knowing
t he risks, men like t hese cont inue t o willingly sacrifice everyt hing.
I challenge every person who reads t his t o sacrifice a lit t le somet hing as well. Ive been
asked a quest ion: Im not a SEAL and probably couldnt do it if I t ried, but what can I do t o
help?
Two answers come t o mind.
Dont just live, but live for a purpose bigger t han yourself. Be an asset t o your family,
communit y, and count ry.
The second answer is t hat you can donat e t ime and money t o a vet erans organizat ion or
one t hat support s wounded warriors. These men and women have done t heir part and need
our help.
Im donat ing t he majorit y of t he proceeds from t his book t o charit y. Here are several t hat I
recommend.
All In All The Time Foundat ion (Allinallt het ime.org)
The Navy SEAL Foundat ion (Navysealfoundat ion.org)
Tip of t he Spear Foundat ion (Tipoft hespearfoundat ion.org)
All t hree charit ies help support t he families of fallen Navy SEALs. I challenge you t o do a
fract ion of what t hese men have sacrificed and help me raise millions of dollars for t hese
organizat ions.
I am t elling t his st ory and donat ing most of t he proceeds from it s sale in honor of t he men
we have lost since Sept ember 11. They are t he t rue heroes.
THOMAS C. FOUKE
Li eut enant
THOMAS RATZLAFF
SOCS
STEPHEN MILLS
SOC
ROBERT REEVES
SOCS
NICHOLAS SPEHAR
SO2
NICHOLAS NULL
EODC
MICHAEL STRANGE
CTR1
MATTHEW MASON
SOC
LOUIS LANGLAIS
SOCM
KRAIG VICKERS
EODCS
KEVIN HOUSTON
SOC
JONAS KELSALL
LCDR (SEAL)
JON TUMILSON
SO1
JOHN FAAS
SOC
JOHN DOUANGDARA
MA1
JESSE PITTMAN
SO1
JASON WORKMAN
SO1
JARED DAY
I T1
HEATH ROBINSON
SOCS
DARRIK BENSON
SO1
CHRISTOPHER CAMPBELL
SO1
CALEB A. NELSON
SO1
BRIAN BILL
SOC
AARON VAUGHN
SO1
TYLER STIMSON
SO1
RONALD WOODLE
SO2
DENIS CHRISTOPHER MIRANDA
SO3
DAVID BLAKE MCLENDON
CTRCS
COLLIN THOMAS
SOC
BRENDAN JOHN LOONEY
LT
ADAM OLIN SMITH
SO2
ADAM BROWN
SOC
TYLER J. TRAHAN
EOD2
RYAN JOB
SO2
ERIC F. SHELLENBERGER
SOC
ANDREW J. LIGHTNER
PR1
THOMAS J. VALENTINE
SOCS
SHAPOOR ALEX GHANE
SO2
NATHAN HARDY
SOC
MICHAEL KOCH
SOC
LUIS SOUFFRONT
EOD1
LANCE M. VACCARO
SOC
JOSHUA THOMAS HARRIS
SO1
JOHN W. MARCUM
SOCS
JASON R. FREIWALD
SOC (Sel ec t )
STEVEN P. DAUGHERTY
CTT1
ROBERT R. MCRILL
MC1
MARK T. CARTER
SOC
JOSEPH CLARK SCHWEDLER
SO2
JASON D. LEWIS
SO1
FREDDIE PORTER
SN
MICHAEL A. MONSOOR
MA2 (SEAL)
MARC A. LEE
AO2 (SEAL)
SHANE E. PATTON
MM2 (SEAL)
MICHAEL P. MURPHY
LT (SEAL)
MICHAEL M. MCGREEVY, JR.
LT (SEAL)
MATTHEW G. AXELSON
STG2 (SEAL)
JEFFREY S. TAYLOR
HM1 (SEAL)
JEFFREY A. LUCAS
ET1 (SEAL)
JAMES SUH
QM2 (SEAL)
JACQUES J. FONTAN
FCC (SEAL)
ERIK S. KRISTENSEN
LCDR (SEAL)
DANNY P. DIETZ
GM2 (SEAL)
DANIEL R. HEALY
I TCS (SEAL)
THEODORE D. FITZHENRY
HMCS (SEAL)
ROBERT P. VETTER
BM1 (SWCC)
BRIAN OUELLETTE
BM1 (SEAL)
THOMAS E. RETZER
I C1 (SEAL)
MARIO MAESTAS
I T2 (SEAL)
DAVID M. TAPPER
PH1 (SEAL)
PETER G. OSWALD
CDR (SEAL)
NEIL C. ROBERTS
ABH1 (SEAL)
MATTHEW J. BOURGEOIS
HMC (SEAL)
JERRY BUCK POPE
ENS (SEAL)
*Li st c ourt esy Navy SEAL Foundat i on

CONFIRMING SOURCES
Ackman, Dan. The Cost of Being Osama Bin Laden. Forbes Magazine,
Sept ember 14, 2001.
Associat ed Press. Jimmy Cart er: Iran host age rescue should have
worked. USA Today, Sept ember 17, 2010.
Bowden, Mark. Black Hawk Down: A Story of Modern War . New York:
Signet , 2002.
But cher, Mike. Heres t he guy who unwit t ingly live-t weet ed t he raid on
Bin Laden. TechCrunch, May 2, 2011.
Chalker, Dennis, and Kevin Dockery. One Perfect Op: Navy SEAL
Special Warfare Teams. New York: Avon Books, 2002.
Eggen, Dan. Bin Laden, Most Want ed For Embassy Bombings? The
Washington Post, August 28, 2006.
Encyclopaedia Britannica Online, 11t h ed. Abbot t abad,
ht t p://en.wikisource.org/wiki/1911_Encyclop%C3%A6dia_Brit annica/Abbot t abad.
FBI. FBI Ten Most Want ed Fugit ives. Archived from t he original on
January 3, 2008.
Fury, Dalt on. Kill Bin Laden. New York: St . Mart ins Press, 2008.
Goldman, Adam, and Mat t Apuzzo. Phone call by Kuwait i courier led t o
bin Laden. PilotOnline, May 3, 2011.
Graham, Maureen, and Troy Graham. Navy SEAL killed in Afghanist an
was part of Lynch rescue. Philadelphia Inquirer. August 22, 2003.
Hagerman, Bart , ed. USA Airborne: 50th Anniversary . Paducah, KY:
Turner Publishing Company, 1990.
Marcinko, Richard. Rogue Warrior. New York: Pocket Books, 1992.
Mayer, Jane. The Dark Side: The Inside Story of How the War on Terror
Turned Into a War on American Ideals. New York: Random House, 2008.
Miller, Greg. CIA flew st ealt h drones int o Pakist an t o monit or bin Laden
house. The Washington Post, May 17, 2011.
Most want ed t errorist s list released. CNN.com, Oct ober 10, 2001.
Murdico, Suzanne J. Osama Bin Laden. Rosen Publishing Group, 2004.
Schmidle, Nicholas. A Report er At Large: Get t ing Bin Laden: What
happened t hat night in Abbot t abad. The New Yorker, August 8, 2011.
Smit h, Michael. Killer Elite: The Inside Story of Americas Most Secret
Special Operations Team. New York: St . Mart ins Press, 2007.
Unit ed St at es Army. 160t h Special Operat ions Aviat ion Regiment . 160th
SOAR(A) Green Platoon Train-up program. Archived from t he original on May
31, 2008.

ABOUT THE AUTHORS
Mark Owen is a former member of t he Unit ed St at es Naval Special Warfare Development
Group, commonly known as SEAL Team Six. In his many years as a Navy SEAL, he has
part icipat ed in hundreds of missions around t he globe, including t he rescue of Capt ain Richard
Phillips in t he Indian Ocean in 2009. Owen was a t eam leader on Operat ion Nept une Spear in
Abbot t abad, Pakist an, on May 1, 2011, which result ed in t he deat h of Osama bin Laden. Owen
was one of t he first men t hrough t he door on t he t hird floor of t he t errorist mast erminds
hideout , where he wit nessed Bin Ladens deat h. Mark Owens name and t he names of t he
ot her SEALs ment ioned in No Easy Day have been changed for t heir securit y.
Kevin Maurer has covered special operat ions forces for nine years. He has been
embedded wit h t he Special Forces in Afghanist an six t imes, spent a mont h in 2006 wit h special
operat ions unit s in east Africa, and has embedded wit h U.S. forces in Iraq and Hait i. He is t he
aut hor of four books, including several about special operat ions.
An Af ghan mi l i t ary gun t ruc k si t s i n t he mount ai n pass bet ween Bagram and Kunduz . Due t o t he severe weat her c ondi t i ons, wi nt er depl oyment s t end t o be l ess ac t i ve t han
summer depl oyment s.
A vi ew f rom our base i n c ent ral Af ghani st an. Duri ng my depl oyment s i n Af ghani st an, t he nat ural beaut y of t he c ount ry of t en st ruc k me.
My pri mary weapons: a Hec kl er & Koc h MP7 wi t h suppressor (t op); a hi ghl y modi f i ed M79 40mm grenade l aunc her, a.k.a. t he pi rat e gun (mi ddl e); and a Hec kl er & Koc h 416
assaul t ri f l e wi t h a t en-i nc h barrel and suppressor (bot t om).
My assaul t ki t organi z ed duri ng an Af ghani st an depl oyment . Vi si bl e are my pi st ol s, assaul t ri f l es, hel met wi t h NVGs, and my si xt y-pound vest i nc l udi ng bal l i st i c pl at es.
A bal l i st i c hel met out f i t t ed wi t h t he l at est generat i on of ni ght -vi si on goggl es, hel met -mount ed f l ashl i ght , and I R st robe. The f our t ubes on t hese NVGs al l ow bet t er
peri pheral vi si on t han t he st andard t wo-t ube goggl es. The I R st robe i s vi t al when deal i ng wi t h hel i c opt ers and ot her aeri al asset s.
The open ramp of our C-17 moment s bef ore we j umped i nt o t he I ndi an Oc ean on t he Capt ai n Phi l l i ps resc ue.
HAHO t rai ni ng over t he Grand Canyon.
Members of DEVGRU c omi ng i n t o l and duri ng HAHO t rai ni ng.
A CH-47 hel i c opt er, a.k.a. t he f l yi ng sc hool bus.
The vi ew out t he bac k of a CH-47. The bags c ont ai n f ast -ropes.
A CH-47 hel i c opt er l i ke t he one we used on t he Kunar mi ssi on.
MH-6 Li t t l e Bi rds l i ke t he ones f l own by t he Ni ght St al kers duri ng assaul t s i n I raq.
Wal ki ng i nt o t he I raqi desert f or exf i l af t er a l ong ni ght of work.
Table of Contents
TITLE PAGE
COPYRIGHT
AUTHORS NOTE
PROLOGUE: Chalk One
CHAPTER 1: Green Team
CHAPTER 2: Top Five/Bot t om Five
CHAPTER 3: The Second Deck
CHAPTER 4: Delt a
CHAPTER 5: Point Man
CHAPTER 6: Maersk Alabama
CHAPTER 7: The Long War
CHAPTER 8: Goat Trails
CHAPTER 9: Somet hing Special in D.C.
CHAPTER 10: The Pacer
CHAPTER 11: Killing Time
CHAPTER 12: Go Day
CHAPTER 13: Infil
CHAPTER 14: Khalid
CHAPTER 15: Third Deck
CHAPTER 16: Geronimo
CHAPTER 17: Exfil
CHAPTER 18: Confirmat ion
CHAPTER 19: Touch t he Magic
EPILOGUE
CONFIRMING SOURCES
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
PHOTO INSERT