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

me down. I could hear nothing, I could see no one, everything seemed tranquil.
I’d plainly taken out the scouting party, because if there’d been anyone sneaking
along behind me, I’d have heard it, believe me. I might not yet move like a
tribesman, but I had developed the hearing of one.
I’d been without water for so long, I figured another half a minute would not
make much difference, and so I pulled out my rifle scope to take a look down at
the village from this excellent vantage point. I forced myself up, hanging on to a
rock with my left hand, right above the water.
The view from there was outstanding, and I could see the village, its upper
houses clinging to the mountain, built right into the rock face by guys who were
obviously craftsmen. It was like something out of a child’s picture book, like the
home of the wicked witch or something, gingerbread houses on a big rock-candy
mountain.
I put the scope away, and, not daring to look at the state of my left leg, I took
a step forward, trying to find a spot where I could begin to slide down on my
backside to the waiting ice-cold pool below me. That’s when that left leg finally
gave way. Perhaps it was the newly shot part, or maybe the blown-up parts, or
just the tendons which could take no more strain. But that leg buckled and flung
me forward, really badly.
I twisted and fell headlong downward, sliding over loose, smooth ground,
shale and sand, gaining speed rapidly, tumbling over, feet in the air, sometimes
digging the toes of my boots in, fighting for a foothold, any hold would be fine. I
rocketed straight past that lower pool and kept right on going. I can’t even
imagine the speed I was going, but I could see it was a hell of a long way to the
bottom, and I could not stop.
Up ahead of me was a sapling, and I lunged at it as I shot headlong past,
trying to get a hold of anything to slow me down. My fingers closed on its thin,
whippy trunk and I tried to pull myself up, but I was just going too fast, and it
flipped me right over and landed me on my back. For a fleeting moment, I
thought I was dead.
Didn’t make much difference whether I was dead or alive, my battered body
just kept going for almost a thousand feet, then the mountain kind of swerved
and I went with it, tumbling and sliding for another five hundred feet to what
was more or less the bottom of that escarpment. I landed in a heap, feeling like
I’d broken every bone in my body. I was out of breath, blood was trickling down
my face from the cut on my forehead, and I generally felt just about as sorry for
myself as it’s possible to be.