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

come up to the front line. Whichever way we looked at it, they had a ton of guys
trying to kill four SEALs.
At this point our options were nonexistent. We still could not charge the top
of the mountain, because they’d cut us down like dogs. They had us left, and
they had us right. We were boxed in on three sides, and there was never, not
even for a couple of seconds, a lull in the gunfire. And we could not even see
half of them or tell where the bullets were coming from. They had every angle
on us.
All four of us just kept banging away, cutting ’em down, watching them fall,
slamming a new magazine into the breech, somehow holding them at bay. But
this was impossible. We had to give up this high ground, and I had to get close
enough to Mikey to agree on a strategy, hopefully to save our lives.
I started to move, but Mikey, like the brilliant officer he was, had appreciated
the situation and already called it. “Fall back!”
Fall back! More like fall off — the freakin’ mountain, that is; a nearly sheer
drop, right behind us, God knows how far down. But an order’s an order. I
grabbed my gear and took a sideways step, trying to zigzag down the gradient.
But gravity made the decision for me, and I fell headlong down the mountain,
completing a full forward flip and somehow landing on my back, still going fast,
heels flailing for a foothold.
At least I thought I was going fast, but Murphy was right behind me. I could
tell it was him because of the bright red New York City fireman’s patch he’d
worn since 9/11. That was actually all I saw.
“See you at the bottom!” I yelled. But right then I hit a tree, and Mikey went
past me like a bullet. I was going slower now, and I tried to take a step, but I fell
again, and on I went, catching up to Mikey now, crashing, tumbling over the
ground like we were both bouncing through a pinball machine.
Ahead of us was a copse of trees on a slightly less steep gradient, and I knew
this was our last hope before we plunged into the void. I had to grab something,
anything. So did Mikey, and I could see him up ahead, grabbing at tree limbs,
snapping them off, and still plummeting downward.
In a split second I knew that nothing could save either of us, we’d surely
break our backs or necks and then the Taliban would shoot us without mercy, as
we would expect. But right now, entering the copse of trees at what felt like
seventy miles an hour, my mind was in overdrive.
Almost everything had been ripped away from me in the fall, everything
except my ammunition and grenades — all my packs, the medical stuff, food,