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

I had only one Teammate. And He moved, as ever, in mysterious ways. But I
was a Christian, and He had somehow saved me from a thousand AK-47 bullets
on this day. No one had shot me, which was well nigh beyond all
comprehension.
And I still believed He did not wish me to die. And I would still try my best
to uphold the honor of the United States Navy SEALs as I imagined they would
have wished. No surrender. Fuck that.
When I judged I had fully gathered my senses and checked my watch, it was
exactly 1342 local time. For a few minutes there was no gunfire, and I was
beginning to assume they thought I was dead. Wrong, Marcus. The Taliban AKs
opened up again, and suddenly there were bullets flying everywhere, all around,
just like before.
My enemy was coming up on me from the lower levels and from both sides,
firing rapidly but inaccurately. Their bullets were ripping into the earth and shale
across a wide range, most of them, thank Christ, well away from me.
It was clear they thought I might be still alive but equally clear they had not
yet located me. They were conducting a kind of recon by fire, trying to flush me
out, blazing away right across the spectrum, hoping someone would finally hit
me and finish me. Or better yet, that I would come out with my hands high so
the murdering little bastards could cut my head off or indulge in one of their
other attractive little idiosyncracies before telling that evil little television station
al-Jazeera how they had conquered the infidels.
I think I’ve mentioned my view about surrender. I rammed another magazine
into the breech of my miraculous rifle and somehow crawled over this little hill,
through the hail of bullets, right into the side of the mountain. No one saw me.
No one hit me. I wedged myself into a rocky crevasse with my legs sticking out
into a clump of bushes.
There were huge rocks to both sides, protecting me. Overall I judged I was
jammed into a fifteen-foot-wide ledge on the mountain. It was not a cave, not
even a shallow cave, because it had a kind of open top way above me. Rocks and
sand kept falling down on me as the Taliban warriors scrambled around above
my position. But this crevasse provided sensational cover and camouflage. Even
I realized I would be pretty hard to spot. They’d have to get real lucky, even with
their latest policy of trying to flush me out with sheer volume of fire.
My line of vision was directly ahead. I realized I couldn’t move or change
position, at least in broad daylight I couldn’t, and it was imperative I hide the
blood which was leaking from my battered body. I took stock of my injuries. My