No Easy Day Read online

  I tucked my shirt in and picked up my kit and inspected it again. The ceramic plates covered my vital organs in the front and back. I had two radios mounted on either side of the front plate. Between the radios, I carried three magazines for my H&K 416 assault rifle and one baseball-size fragmentation hand grenade. I also had several chemical lights rigged to the front of my vest, including the infrared version that can only be seen using night vision. We’d crack the plastic lights and throw them in front of rooms and areas that we had cleared. The lights were invisible to the naked eye, but my teammates could see them through their night vision and know what areas were secure.

  My bolt cutters rode in a pouch on my back, with the two handles sticking a little ways above my shoulder. Attached to my vest were the two antennas for the radios.

  Running my hands over my kit, I tugged on the breaching charge I rubber-banded to the back of it. I next focused on my helmet. It weighed less than ten pounds with the night vision goggles attached. It could officially stop a nine-millimeter round, but in the past the helmets had stopped AK-47 bullets. I switched on the light attached to the rail system that runs down the side of the helmet. It was a brand-new Princeton Tec charge light. I’d used it in my last deployment.

  I set the helmet on my head and pulled down my night vision goggles, or NVGs. Unlike some of the conventional units, we had NVGs with four tubes instead of the usual two. This allowed us a field of view of 120 degrees instead of just 40 degrees. The standard goggles were like looking through toilet-paper tubes. Our NVGs allowed us to clear corners more easily and gave us greater situational awareness. Switching on the $65,000 goggles, my room was bathed in a green hue. With a few adjustments, I could see the furniture in crisp detail.

  Finally, I picked up my rifle. Pulling it into my shoulder, I turned on my EOTech sight. Mounted behind it was a 3X magnifier, which allowed me to shoot more accurately during the day. Aiming at the wall near my bunk, I tested my red laser, which was visible to the naked eye, and I flipped down my NVGs and tested the IR laser.

  Pulling the bolt back, I chambered a round. I performed a press check by sliding the bolt back and inspecting the chamber to make sure a round was seated. I double-checked to make sure it was on safe, and I rested the rifle back against the wall.

  With my gear checked and ready, I pulled a small laminated booklet—our cheat sheet for the mission—out of a small pouch in the front of my vest and flipped through it again.

  The first page was a mini grid reference guide, or GRG. It was an aerial image of the compound with all of the main areas labeled and the buildings numbered. Everyone worked off the same GRG, from the pilots to the QRF to the people in the operations center.

  There was a list of radio frequencies on the following page. The last section had a list of the names and photos of everyone expected on the target. I studied the pictures of the al-Kuwaiti brothers, spending extra time on Ahmed al-Kuwaiti, since he was thought to be living in C1. Each page not only had pictures but also vital stats like height, weight, and any known aliases. The final page had a picture of Bin Laden and several renderings of what he and his son could look like now.

  With my camouflage uniform on and my gear ready to go, I grabbed my Salomon Quest boots and pulled them on. They were a little bulkier than the low-top trail-running shoes my teammates sometimes wore. I swore by these boots because they protected my baby ankles, which I twisted with great frequency. I had climbed the mountains in Kunar Province and patrolled through the deserts of Iraq in these boots. All of my gear was proven and had been vetted on previous missions. I knew it all worked.

  It finally hit me as I laced up my boots. This could be my last time doing it. What we were about to do was significant. We’d fought hard to keep history out of our minds. We were doing our jobs and this was just the next mission. The task was to assault a house and capture or kill a target. It didn’t matter to me who it was supposed to be, but as I tied my laces, it struck me that maybe it did matter. There was no escaping the significance, and I wanted to make sure the laces didn’t come undone.

  For the last hour, I’d considered the smallest tasks. Everything had to be perfect. I tied the loops of my laces down in a double knot and tucked them into my boot top. In the middle of the room, I hoisted my sixty-pound vest over my head and let it rest on my shoulders. I tightened the straps, basically sealing myself in between the plates. I took a second to make sure I could get to everything. Reaching above my head, I could grab both handles of the bolt cutters. I touched the breaching charge over my left shoulder.

  I connected the antennas to my radios and put on my “bone phones,” which sat on my cheekbones. These would allow me to hear any radio traffic through bone conduction technology. If I needed, I could also put in an earbud to cancel out the ambient noise and allow sound to travel directly into my ear canal.

  In my right ear, I would hear the troop net. On the troop net, I would hear all of my teammates communicating with each other. My left ear would monitor the command net, which would let me communicate with the other team leaders and the head shed.

  As a team leader I’d need the two separate nets, but the reality was there wasn’t going to be much traffic on the command net for this objective. Only the officers were going to be talking on the satellite radios, and most of the radio traffic on the target would be through the troop net.

  All of my checks were done. I’d completed my steps to prepare for the mission. I took one last look in the room to make sure I didn’t forget anything, and headed out the door.

  ______

  The sun was setting. Around me I could hear the others getting ready too. There was little talking, but you could hear guys moving around, checking their equipment or packing up their bags. The door to the building banged against the doorframe with a steady rhythm as guys moved in and out.

  We were set to muster at the fire pit in a few minutes. As I got closer, I could hear the thundering beat of a metal band blaring out of some speakers. I met up with my team, and we found a spot and waited for McRaven to show up. He’d requested some time to talk with us before the mission.

  “You ready?” I asked Will.

  He nodded.

  Looking around, I could see Walt, Charlie, and the others waiting with their own teams. Only hours before, we’d been hanging out and laughing about who would play us in the movie. Now, everyone was serious.

  McRaven showed up with little fanfare. As he walked up, we all gathered around.

  His speech focused on the strategic level, something he was more comfortable talking about. Nothing he said really stuck with me, as my mind was focused on what was about to happen. As he left, word was passed to move out.

  “Everybody on the Black Hawks take buses one and two,” I heard one of the support guys yell. “Buses three and four are going to the forty-sevens.”

  The buses were lined up and already running. On board, I wedged myself into a seat near the middle. Will crammed in next to me. The buses were old and dusty. The vinyl seats were worn from years of transporting assaulters in full gear to the flight line.

  The bus didn’t drive as much as it ambled. The shocks were worn from carrying all the extra weight, so every bump shot through our legs and backs. The ride took only a few minutes, but it felt much longer.

  After a while, I could see massive spotlights set up facing outward near the hangar where I knew the Black Hawks waited for us. It looked like a star exploded, and it was impossible to see inside the globe of light. A generator hummed in the background as we got off and walked behind a fence that surrounded the hangar.

  Inside, the helicopter crews were making final checks. The noise from the rotors made conversation impossible. I snuck off to the fence to take one last leak. When the helicopters were ready, I saw some of the support crew push open the gate, and the helicopters rolled out.

  I nodded to a few guys on Chalk Two, flashing them the middle finger with a smile. We separated in silence. Anything said was lost i
n the rotor wash, but the gestures all said the same thing.

  See you on the ground.

  There was nothing more to say.

  We formed up on either side of the helicopters. I looked at my watch. We had ten minutes. I found a spot by the tarmac to lie down. I rested my head on my helmet and looked at the stars. For a second, I just relaxed. Finally, the crew chief signaled us to load up.

  I was one of the last to get on board, since I would be the first one down the rope. After everyone else had loaded up, there was a small spot by the door, next to Walt and the 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 to make sure it was on safe. When you’re crammed into a helicopter with little room to move, the last thing you need is for your weapon’s safety to get kicked off inadvertently.

  I cradled my helmet in my lap to make sure my night vision goggles didn’t get damaged. Flipped up, they looked like antlers on the helmet.

  Once the door clicked shut, the helicopter picked up and hovered for a few seconds before setting back down. Then, right on schedule, the helicopter leapt from the tarmac. I could feel the nose dip down as we picked up speed. Once we cleared the airfield, the Black Hawk banked to the right and headed for the border.

  The cabin was dark and crowded. I could feel Walt’s knees dig into my back when he moved. The radio in my ear was silent. I could see a faint glow from the controls in the cockpit, but nothing outside the window. It was pitch-black.

  About fifteen minutes into the flight, the first message crackled over the troop net.

  “Crossing the border.”

  “I guess we’re actually doing this,” I thought.

  ______

  Soon, my head was bobbing as I dozed. As we got closer to Abbottabad, I could hear the pro words for the different checkpoints come over the troop net. But each time, I slipped back to a light sleep.

  “Ten minutes.”

  That shook me from my daze. I wiped my eyes and wiggled my toes to start working the circulation back. I must have slept more than I thought, since the ten-minute call seemed to come quickly. I think most of the guys on the helicopter actually caught some much-needed sleep on the ride in.

  “Six minutes.”

  All the hype was gone and it was just another night at work for us. I pulled on my helmet and snapped the chinstrap closed. Pulling my NVGs down over my eyes, I made sure everything was in focus. I pulled the gun tightly to my chest so it didn’t get hung up when I roped out, and checked the safety one last time. It was still dark in the cabin, but I knew everyone else was making the same checks.

  “One minute.”

  The crew chief slid the door open. I slid the Fast Rope Insertion/Extraction System (FRIES) bar into place. The fast rope was connected to the FRIES bar, which allowed it to fall cleanly to the ground. The bar was held in place with a pin at its base. I ran my hand along the bar and made sure the pin was seated. The crew chief checked it as well. I gave the rope a hard tug to make sure it was secure and then slid my legs out over the edge of the helicopter and into the breeze.

  I grabbed the rope and tried to lean out far enough to see ahead of us. Several of the houses we passed over had lighted pools and manicured gardens behind tall stone walls. I was used to seeing mountains or villages made up of clusters of mud huts. From above, Abbottabad reminded me of flying over the suburbs in the United States.

  I leaned out the door and finally caught a glimpse of the compound. The flight from Jalalabad had taken about ninety minutes and we would be arriving well after midnight. It was pitch-black and none of the lights in the surrounding houses were on. It seemed like the whole block was without power. Rolling blackouts in the area were common.

  The engine noise changed as the helicopter started to hover. Once over the predetermined fast-rope point, I could throw the rope. The hover was rough and it was apparent the pilots were having trouble holding station. It felt like they were wrestling the helicopter, trying to force it to cooperate. My eyes flicked from the ground to the crew chief, waiting for the helicopter to get into position so I could throw the rope.

  “GO, GO, GO” ran in a loop in my head.

  The pilots never had an issue holding a hover during rehearsals. Something was wrong. We all desperately wanted out of the helicopter and onto the ground.

  “We’re going around,” I heard over the troop net.

  “Shit,” I thought. “We haven’t even gotten on the ground yet and we are already going to plan B.”

  Suddenly, the helicopter kicked to the right ninety degrees and I could feel my stomach drop like riding a roller coaster. The rotors above me screamed as the Black Hawk tried to claw its way back into the air. With each second, the helicopter slipped closer toward the earth. From my side of the helicopter I could see the compound rushing up at us through the open door.

  I struggled to find a handhold and slide back into the cabin. There was little room behind me as all my teammates had pushed forward prepping to fast-rope. Then I felt Walt’s hand grab my gear and pull me deeper into the cabin. His other hand shot out and grabbed the sniper next to me. I leaned back with all my strength. My legs kicked the air as I tried to get them inside. I knew if my legs were exposed when we hit, they would get pinned or cut off.

  The closer we got to the ground, the angrier I became. Each and every assaulter had sacrificed so much throughout their individual careers to get to this point. We all felt extremely lucky to have been chosen for this mission and now we were about to die without even getting a chance to do our part.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I thought. “This is going to hurt.”

  CHAPTER 13

  Infil

  My body was tense and my abs screamed as I tried to fold my legs into my chest.

  All I could see was the ground coming up at me through the large open door. Helicopters are not like airplanes that can glide in for a crash landing. When helicopters stop working, they fall out of the sky like a rock. When they hit, rotor blades snap off, sending shrapnel and debris in all directions. Sitting in the open door, I feared the cabin would roll, crushing me underneath.

  I could feel Walt tugging on my kit, pulling me back inside the cabin. No matter how much I pulled my legs close, they were still outside the door. The sniper next to me was stuck with one leg inside the cabin and the other outside of it.

  It is hard to describe the feeling of riding a helicopter into the ground. I don’t think my mind fully grasped what was happening. I had it in my mind that maybe I could stay in the door like a Looney Tunes cartoon character. You know, when the house falls off the cliff and the character escapes by opening the front door. For a split second I figured that when the helicopter hit and rolled, I’d land in the door and be safe.

  The privacy wall around the compound quickly passed by as we headed for the ground.

  When the helicopter rotated ninety degrees, the tail rotor barely missed the wall on the south side of the compound. I could feel fear grip my chest as the ground rushed toward me. I had no control, and I think that scared me most of all. I always figured I would probably die in a gunfight, not in a helicopter crash. We were all used to stacking the odds in our favor. We knew the dangers. We did the battlefield calculus and we trusted our skills. But clinging to a helicopter, there was nothing we could do.

  Seconds before impact, I felt the nose dip. I held my breath and waited for impact. The helicopter shuddered as the nose dug into the soft ground like a lawn dart. One minute, the ground was rushing up at me. The next minute, I was at a dead stop. It happened so fast, I didn’t even feel the impact.

  The blades didn’t snap off. Instead, the rotors blasted the muddy courtyard, blowing dust and debris and creating a maelstrom around us.

  I exhaled and blinked the dust out of my eyes. Squinting against the assault of rocks and dust, I realized we were still about six feet above the ground at a steep angle.

  “Get the fuck out,” Walt yelled at
me, shoving me forward.

  I dropped from the cabin and landed in the courtyard in a crouch. Despite wearing more than sixty pounds of gear, I didn’t feel the weight or the jolt from the fall. Without looking back, I ran forward like an Olympic sprinter away from the wreck. Sliding to a halt about thirty yards away, I turned back and saw the wreckage for the first time.

  When the helicopter crashed, the tail boom got caught up on the twelve-foot privacy wall. The tail’s single load-bearing section propped the Black Hawk up and kept the rotors from hitting the ground. If any other part of the helicopter hit the wall, or if we had tipped and the rotor hit the ground first, none of us would be walking away unscathed. Teddy and his copilot had somehow pulled off the impossible.

  I could see my teammates dropping out of the cabin and dashing through a gap underneath the helicopter as it rested at an angle against the wall.

  Like my teammates, I had gotten good at compartmentalizing stressful situations over my career, and now I had to block the crash out. Two minutes ago, I was pissed we were going to land outside the compound, but now we were alive and on the ground inside the walls. Despite the near-disaster the mission was still on track.

  My teammates were already headed to the gate that led us back into the main compound. I needed to get my ass in gear because if Charlie or Walt saw me standing there while they were already moving to their positions I would never hear the end of their shit-talking.

  We had scheduled thirty minutes to complete the mission based on the helicopter’s fuel consumption and a possible response time from the Pakistanis. We had built in an additional ten minutes of flextime just in case. Running back toward the helicopter, I figured we needed those extra minutes now.

  The way the helicopter was perched on the wall, I didn’t have enough room to clear the rotors in the front. It was dark and even with my night vision it was impossible to be sure how high the rotors were spinning. The only way to get to the compound was by going underneath the wreck.