Lone Survivor_ The Eyewitness Account of Operation Redwing and the Lost Heroes of SEAL Team 10 ( PDFDrive )

sound on the mountain. This was beyond silence, a stillness beyond the concept
of silence, like being in outer space. Way down below us we could see two fires,
or perhaps lanterns, burning, probably about a mile away, goatherds, I hoped.
The fifteen minutes passed. To my left was the mountain, a great looming
mass sweeping skyward. To my right was a group of huge, thick trees. All
around us were low tree stumps and thick foliage.
We were way below the place where we would ultimately operate, and it was
very unnerving, because right here anyone could hide out. We couldn’t see a
damn thing and had no idea if there was anyone around. Sixteen years ago, not
too far away from here, I guess those Russian conscripts sensed something very
similar before someone slashed their throats.
Finally, we climbed to our feet. I walked over to Danny and told him to get
the comms up and let the controllers know we were down. Then I walked up the
hill to where Mikey and Axe had the big rope which had, absurdly, been cut
down and dropped from the helicopter.
This was definitely a mistake. That helo crew was supposed to have taken
the rope away with them. God knows what they thought we were going to do
with it, and I was just glad Mikey found it. If he hadn’t and we’d left it lying on
the ground, it might easily have been found by a wandering tribesman or farmer,
especially if they had heard the helicopter come in. That rope might have rung
our death knell, signifying, as it surely must, that the American eagle had landed.
We did not have a shovel, and Mikey and Axe had to cover the rope with
trees, weeds, and foliage. While they were completing this, I opened up comms
to the AC-130 Spectre gunship, which I knew was way up there somewhere
monitoring us. I passed my message succinctly:
“Sniper Two One, this is Glimmer Three — preparing to move.”
“Roger that.”
It was the last time I spoke to them. And now we were assembled for our
journey — about four miles. Our route was preplanned, along a mountain ridge
that stretched out into a long right-hand dogleg. Our waypoints were marked on
our map, and the GPS numbers, detailing the precise position from the satellite,
were clear, numbered 1, 2, and 3.
That was just about the only thing that was straightforward. Because the
terrain was absolutely horrible, the moonless night was still pitch black, and our
route was along a mountain face so steep, it was a goddamned miracle we didn’t
all fall off and break our necks. Also, it was raining like a bastard and freezing
cold. Within about ten minutes we were absolutely soaked, like Hell Week.