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

position where we could rest on this almost sheer escarpment. I glugged from
my water canteen and, to tell the truth, I felt like a plant on the Hanging Gardens
of Babylon. Danny was in his yoga position, sitting cross-legged like a
goddamned snake charmer, his back against his tree.
Axe, ever alert, stood guard, blending into the mountain to my left, his rifle
primed despite the quiet. He was probably doing a New York Times crossword
which he’d memorized word for word in his head. He did not get much peace,
though. My tree turned out to be some type of a mulberry, and since I could not
even doze off, I spent the time hurling the berries at Axe on account of his shaky
attitude during the climb back up the mountain.
Then another major fog bank rolled in and settled over all of us and the
valley below. There was again no way to see the village, and the trouble with fog
banks is they are likely to turn up in the same place often. It was plain we could
not remain here in effective operational mode. Once more we had to leave.
Mikey and Axe were poring over the maps and scanning the mountain terrain
above us, where there was less fog. Danny and I had to keep looking toward the
village, trying to use the glass, peering at whatever there was to be seen. Which
was nothing. Finally Mikey said he was leaving, alone, just taking his rifle, in
search of a better spot. Then he changed his mind and took Axe with him. And I
didn’t blame him. This place was enough to give anyone the creeps, because you
never knew who might be watching.
Danny and I waited, and the sun climbed high over the peaks and began to
dry our wet clothes. The others came back after maybe an hour, and Mikey said
they had found an excellent place for observing the village but that cover was
sparse. I think he considered there would be some heightened risk in this
operation, no matter what, because of the terrain. But if we did not take that risk
we’d likely be up here till Christmas.
And once more we all hoisted our packs and set off to the new hiding place.
It was only about a thousand yards, but it took us an hour, moving along, and
then up, the mountain, right onto that granite finger at the end of the ridge. And
when we got there, I had to agree it was perfect, offering a brilliant angle on the
village for the lens, the spotting scope, and the bullet. It had sensational allaround
vision. If Sharmak and his gang of villains were there, we’d get him. As
Mikey observed, “That guy couldn’t get to the goddamned communal shitter
without us seeing him.”
Danny’s reply was not suitable for a family story such as this, entailing as it
did the possible blasting of one of Sharmak’s principal working parts.