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

I could hear updates from the team on the security perimeter.
    Ali and the four SEALs spent most of our time on target holding security along the road northeast of the compound. After they were inserted, two assaulters and Cairo, the combat assault dog, did a sweep of the perimeter.
    After the patrol, they waited and watched for onlookers to come out and investigate the commotion. Residents heard the helicopters, the intermittent explosions, and gunfire. Wondering what was going on, a few small groups approached the security team.
    “Go back inside,” Ali said in Pashto. “There is a security operation under way.”
    Luckily for us, the Pakistanis obliged and went back into their houses. A few posted messages on Twitter about helicopters and noise.
    Time was getting tight.
    Mike was on the radio giving us remaining-time hacks. We’d been in the compound for almost thirty minutes. Each time he came on, my teammates on the second deck asked for additional time.
    “We need ten more minutes,” a SEAL on the second deck said. “We’re not even halfway done.”
    Mike just repeated the time back calmly. The mission was a balancing act. We all wanted to stay and make sure we didn’t leave anything behind, but the helicopters were running out of fuel and there wasn’t any time to give.
    “Post assault, five minutes,” Mike finally said. That meant drop what you’re doing and get to the landing zone within five minutes.
    I was done on the third deck, and I started for the door. I felt like I was leaving something undone. We took pride in coming back with every bit of intelligence we could find and collect. There was so much still to do. We all had to face the fact we were leaving areas unsearched, and then put it out of our minds. We all knew the risks of running out of gas or remaining on target too long, giving the local police or military time to react. We got what we came for: Bin Laden. It was time to get out while we still could.
    “Hey, consolidate the women and children and get them out of the compound,” Mike said over the radio.
    I could hear Will trying to get the women and children to move outside. We didn’t want them to wander over to the helicopter before it exploded. But it was like herding cats, and Will wasn’t making any headway. The women were still sobbing, and the kids were either crying or sitting in a daze. None of them wanted to move.
    I didn’t have time to help. I still needed to get over to C compound. I followed the smear of blood from Bin Laden’s body. It left a slippery trail all the way to the first deck, where Walt had put Bin Laden’s body into a body bag. As I climbed down the steps, I could see where they’d dragged the body over Khalid’s body. His son’s white shirt was stained with his father’s blood.
    I headed for C1. The others had gotten photos and DNA of al-Kuwaiti. When I got there, his wife and kids were squatting in the corner of the courtyard. I tried to get them up and moving when Mike’s urgent call came across the radio.
    “Hey, guys,” he said. “Drop what you’re doing and move to exfil HLZ.”
    Low on fuel, the Black Hawk and the C-47 were inbound to pick us up. Using arm signals, I got al-Kuwaiti’s family up and shepherded them into the guesthouse. I knew the charges on the helicopter were going off nearby. This was going to be a big explosion, but the guesthouse was far enough away. They’d be safe if they stayed inside the room.
    Once inside, I tried to get across the idea that there was going to be a big explosion, using my hands and making an explosion sound.
    “Stay here,” I said in English.
    I have no idea if they understood. I backed out of the room and shut the door behind me.
    Racing down the rutted driveway, I saw Teddy and the other helicopter crew standing near Mike. They looked funny in their large aviation helmets and Army ACU uniforms. They looked lost and out of their environment, uncomfortable with actually being on the ground.
    I looked at Mike as I passed.
    “The women and kids are staying in C1,” I said. “There is no way I can move them.”
    The SEALs from the second deck were spilling out of the building. We looked like a gypsy camp, or like Santa Claus on Christmas Eve. Guys had mesh bags over their shoulders so full they seemed to waddle more than run. I saw one SEAL carrying a CPU in one hand and a leather gym bag overflowing in the other. The SEALs on the second floor had collected so much intelligence