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

and directly onto the C-130.
    While we settled into the orange nylon jump seats that were hung near the front of the plane, Air Force ground crews strapped three of the containers with our gear into the back of the plane. The ramp closed, and we made the one-hour flight to the base in J-bad.
    The seats on the C-130 were uncomfortable. If you get stuck in the middle row, you have to rely on the guy behind you to sit up, providing support, or you sink down, crushing your back. If being able to lay out in a hammock in a C-17 was first-class military flying, then the middle seat in a C-130 was economy.
    Landing in a C-130, even on a paved runway, was jarring. The wheels are close to the fuselage, so it was like landing a roller skate. Plus, it sounded like the plane itself was hitting the tarmac. I held on to the bar as the plane swung around and stopped at the main terminal. The crew chief lowered the gate, revealing buses waiting to take us to the JSOC compound.
    Jalalabad airfield is located just a few miles from the Pakistan border. Home to a number of American units, including a force from JSOC, the base is the main staging area for helicopters operating in northeastern Afghanistan.
    Larger than the smaller outposts that dot the valleys along the border, Jalalabad is part of Regional Command East and it’s from J-bad that units along the border get supplies and mail. It is home to about fifteen hundred soldiers as well as a number of civilian contractors. Afghan security forces help guard the base.
    The runway splits the base in half. Soldiers live on the south side of the airfield. The JSOC area had its own chow hall, gym, operations center, and a number of plywood huts. The compound was home to Army Rangers, DEVGRU, and support personnel.
    Almost all of us had double-digit deployments to J-bad. Walking through the gate, it felt like home.

    “What’s up, brother?” Will said to me when we arrived.
    He’d already gotten word that he would be part of the raid, and he was eager to get read in on the plan.
    After putting our gear away, we met back at the fire pit. Guys on previous rotations had built the brick-and-mortar pit, which had become a de facto town square for the compound. Each deployment we added to it until it looked like the patio of a fraternity house. Shitty couches purchased out in town were usually crowded with guys drinking coffee, smoking cigars, or just bullshitting. The couches rotated as often as we did. Made in Pakistan, the cheap stuffing in the cushions couldn’t handle our two-hundred-pound frames for long.
    The SEALs already on their scheduled deployment in Jalalabad got briefed on the plan during our flight over. They heard rumors something was spinning up, but no one knew any details until the brief.
    Because Will spoke Arabic, he was the only member of his squadron selected to go with us on the assault. The rest of his teammates would be the quick reaction force or QRF, loaded in two CH-47 helicopters waiting to be called in to help if the team at the compound ran into trouble. They were also tasked to set up a forward air refueling point (FARP) north of the compound. Using the massive CH-47 helicopters, which were basically flying school buses, the QRF would carry inflatable fuel bladders so the Black Hawks carrying the assault teams could stop for much-needed gas on the return flight to Jalalabad.
    “You seen the mock-up?” I asked Will.
    We went into a briefing room near the operations center and I undid the padlocks. Will helped me lift the wooden cover off.
    “Wow. This is nice,” he said, leaning over it to look closely at the mock-up.
    Will looked like your average SEAL. He was about five foot ten inches tall with a lean physique. The thing that made him different was the fact that he had taught himself Arabic. He was extremely smart, professional, and a man of few words.
    The SEAL teams were a very close-knit community. It felt odd showing up to do this mission when everyone knew the squadron that was already deployed could have pulled it off just as well as we could. The only reason we were tasked with this mission was because we were available to conduct the needed rehearsals to sell the option to the decision makers at the White House. Every squadron at the command was interchangeable. It came down to being at the right place at the right time.
    “So, give me the rundown,” Will said.
    “OK, we’re in Chalk One,” I said. “Our bird will be the first to approach