No Easy Day: The Firsthand Account of the Mission That Killed Osama Bin Laden

right for me.
    WHOOM!
    A rocket-propelled grenade slammed ten feet off the tail ramp of the helicopter, showering my teammates with shrapnel. Before I could react, I saw tracer rounds and more rockets crash around us. I started to move toward a ditch on the other side of the landing zone. Everybody was stunned. In our minds, we were simply using this base as a jumping-off point for our mission. We didn’t expect to make contact until we assaulted the actual compound a few hours later.
    I could hear the whine of the helicopters’ engines change as they took off and flew out of the valley. As the second helicopter lifted off in a hurry, its rotor wash set off one of the trip flares that surrounded the perimeter of the small combat outpost we were planning to stage from. The flares, in theory, were set up to alert the base of an attack, but we were now exposed, illuminated by the flare and in the open. We started to peel back in small teams away from the light as the fighters shifted fire toward the base.
    I tried to get my pants buttoned up while in a dead sprint. I could hear the thump of the first outgoing mortars and then the steady hammering of an American .50 caliber machine gun as the soldiers at the base reacted to the attack. Sliding into a ditch, we watched as the American heavy weapons started raking the ridgeline. It looked like a Bloomin’ Onion at Outback Steakhouse. Guns stuck up on all sides of the base made of Hesco barriers, large wire frames filled with sand.
    Once the flare died out and we had the cover of darkness again, we maneuvered our way back to the main gate and inside the protective wall of the outpost.
    When we got inside the gate, our medics started working on the wounded. No one was hurt badly, but shrapnel from the RPGs hit an Army Ranger, our interpreter, an Afghan soldier partnered with us, and our combat assault dog. The helicopters were loitering nearby, and when the fire stopped, they raced back into the valley to pick up the wounded.
    Once all the wounded were loaded on the helicopters and safely on their way back to the hospital, the troop chief and team leaders met with the FOB’s Army company commander and first sergeant inside the command bunker.
    Charlie and the rest of the troop waited in the outpost’s weight room. Charlie had volunteered to come over for the last couple of months of the deployment and was running with my team. Since Phil had been wounded and I took over, we were a man short and needed an extra shooter. Charlie had just finished his time as a Green Team instructor.
    “Heard you shot Phil to get this job,” Charlie said when he got in country. “Is that how you get a team now? Better watch your six.”
    I had missed the big bully, and it was good to have him back.
    Once Phil left, the pranking around the camp stopped. I was confident my room was free from glitter bombs, but the mood was never as light as when Phil was prowling around. Most of all, we missed his experience. Much like a football team, we had the “next man up” mentality. We all knew how to do the job, but it was hard to argue against experience. Phil had a ton of it. The pace of operations made it hard to dwell on the past. But he was missed for sure.
    Having Charlie back made up for some of it. Fresh off of instructor duties at Green Team, he was sharp, and on this operation he was going to be vital. His experience and calm demeanor under fire were second to none.
    The operations center was small, and maps of the area hung on the wall above furniture made of plywood. Antennas stuck up out of the corner of the squat building. Sandbags made up the walls and roof, protection against RPGs and mortar rounds. A radio sat in one corner, and two young Army specialists or junior enlisted men sat nearby monitoring it.
    I stood next to Steve and looked at the map.
    “Sorry about the welcome party,” the Army captain in charge of the outpost said. “We get it about once a week. You just happened to be at the right place at the right time.”
    Operating in Kunar was tough. I’d argue it was one of the toughest places to effectively target the enemy in the entire country. It was rare that we made the trip up to the province without getting into a fight. Located in the lower Hindu Kush, the mountains and narrow valleys with steep sides serve as formidable natural obstacles. The province has been a favored spot of insurgent groups for decades. Its impenetrable terrain, cave networks, and border