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

weren’t perfect. Every time he repeated a number, I was more ashamed. I was getting tired but I wasn’t getting any closer to meeting the test standard.
    “One minute.”
    I was way behind as the call came and was quickly running out of time. If I failed the sit-ups, I was done. Doubt started to creep into my mind. I started to come up with bullshit excuses like I was ill-prepared because I had been training with my unit, rather than preparing for this test.
    “Thirty seconds.”
    With half a minute to go I was ten short of the minimum number. Next to me, another guy had already passed that number and he was knocking out even more as fast as he could go. My mind was spinning and I couldn’t believe I was failing. Forcing the poisonous thoughts from my mind, I focused on technique. Soon, I was making up ground.
    “Ten seconds.”
    I was close. My stomach ached. My breath came in gasps. My fatigue was replaced with fear. I was in shock. I couldn’t fail. There was no way I could go back to my platoon knowing I couldn’t even pass the physical fitness test.
    “Five, four, three …”
    As the instructors called time, I finished my last sit-up. I squeaked by, passing the minimum by two measly sit-ups. I was spent, but I still had to do the pull-ups. Walking to the bar, the near-failure scared some adrenaline into me and I was able to pass the pull-ups without issue.
    The final event was a swim in San Diego Bay. The water was calm. We had wetsuits on, so I couldn’t feel the chill of the water. I started strong. One of the 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 treadmill.
    When I got to the finish line, the instructors told me I’d failed. It turned out everyone except for the academy swimmer failed. That caught the attention of the instructors and they checked the tide schedule. After a quick review of the currents, word came down that we had been swimming against the tide.
    “We’re going to do the whole test again tomorrow,” they told us, to my relief.
    Part of the challenge was that you’re tired by the time you get to each exercise. So we couldn’t just repeat the swim. I knew I would have to do the sit-ups again and in the back of my mind, I knew I wasn’t going to get my abs in shape in one night.
    It was a mental thing.
    I went in there ready to kick ass the next day, and I willed my way to a passing score. I knew my scores weren’t great, and I was concerned about how they’d be received during the oral board the next day. Just because I passed the minimum scores didn’t mean anything in the big scheme of things. This was a selection course for the best of the best, and I was not showing the instructors that I was prepared.
    I arrived early for my interview in my dress blue uniform with all of my ribbons and awards. I’d gotten a haircut the day before and made sure my shave was close. I looked like a diagram out of a uniform textbook. It was one of the rare times I knew a haircut, shined shoes, and a pressed uniform really mattered for a SEAL. At least it gave the instructors one less thing to pick on during the board.
    Inside the conference room was a long table at the far end. Seated at the table were a half dozen master chiefs, a psychologist who had tested us the second day of screening, and a career counselor. A single chair sat in front of the board. I walked into the room and took a seat.
    For the next forty-five minutes, they took turns lobbing questions at me. I’d never been under fire like this. I didn’t know that before I arrived, the board had already talked to my platoon chief and commander at SEAL Team Five. They had an idea of who I was, but this was the only time they’d get a chance to size me up in person.
    To this day, I can’t remember who sat on my oral board. To me, they were just high-ranking operators who held my future in their hands. It was up to me to convince them to select me.
    But my poor physical fitness score wasn’t helping my case.
    “Do you know who you are screening for?” one of the chiefs said. “Do you know what you’re trying out to do? This is the entry-level test. You’re getting ready for the big leagues here and this is what you show?”
    I didn’t hesitate. I knew they’d hit me on this and I only had one play.
    “I take full responsibility,” I said. “I am embarrassed to sit here and show