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

alienating the people and, in particular, the village elder.
This armed gang of tribesmen, who were hell-bent on driving out the
Americans and the government, could not function up here in these protective
mountains entirely alone. Without local support their primitive supply line would
perish, and they would rapidly begin to lose recruits. Armies need food, cover,
and cooperation, and the Taliban could only indulge in so much bullying before
these powerful village leaders decided they preferred the company of the
Americans.
That’s why they had just evacuated Sabray. They would still surround the
village, awaiting their chance to grab me, but they would not risk causing major
disruption to the day-to-day lives of the people. I’d been here for five nights
now, including the night in the cave, and the Taliban had crossed the boundaries
of Sabray only twice, once for a few hours of violence late in the evening, and
once just now for maybe an hour.
Gulab was certain they had gone, but he was equally certain we could not
dare go back to the house. It was almost ten in the morning by now, and Gulab
was preparing to leave and take me with him, once more out into the mountains.
It had passed midnight back in Texas and the vigil at our ranch continued. The
media was still voicing its opinion that the SEAL team was dead, and the latest
call from Coronado had been received. There was still no news of me. They all
knew there would be another call at 0400, and everyone waited out there in the
hot July night, their hopes diminishing, according to Mom, as the hours ticked
by.
People were starting to speculate how I could possibly have survived if no
one at the American base knew where I was. But news was really scarce, except
for the part some members of the media invented. And people were beginning to
lose heart.
Except, apparently, for Morgan and the other SEALs, none of whom would
even consider I was dead. At least that’s what they always told everyone.
“MIA,” they kept repeating. “MIA. He’s not dead till we say he’s dead.”
Morgan continued to tell everyone that he was thinking about me and I was
thinking about him. He was in contact, even if no one else was. And Senior
Chief Gothro kept a careful eye on my mom in case she disintegrated.
But she remembers that night to this day, and how there were people growing
sadder by the minute. And how the SEALs held it all together, the chaplains, the
officers, the noncoms, some ordering, some imploring, but asking everyone to