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

separate from anyone else, thus avoiding loose talk about highly classified
missions. All of our missions are, of course, highly classified, and we do not talk
loosely, but other branches of the services are not so stringently trained as we
are, and no one takes any chances.
Here we were at last, in the Islamic Republic of Afghanistan, a country the
size of Texas, landlocked on all sides, protected by the granite walls of
mountains, war torn for years and years and still at it. Just like always, warlords
were trying to drive out the usurpers. Us. And we weren’t even usurping, just
trying to stop another bloody tribal upheaval and another regime change from
the elected to the dictators.
Boy. It seemed like a hell of a task. But we were excited. This was what we
joined for. In truth, we could hardly wait to get down there and get on with it.
And in a sense, it was pretty simple. We somehow had to get out into those
infamous mountain passes and put a stop to this clandestine infiltration of
faceless tribal warriors making their way across the border, doggedly, silently,
prepared to fight at the drop of a turban.
We knew their track record, and we knew they could move around the
mountains very quickly. They had dominated those slopes, caves, and hideouts
for centuries, turning them into impregnable military strongholds against all
comers.
And they had already faced the SEALs in open combat up there, because the
SEALs had been first in. They would be prepared, we knew that. But like all
SEAL operational teams, we believed we were better than everyone else, so the
goddamned Taliban had better watch it.
Danny, Shane, James, Axe, Mikey, and I. We were here on business, trained
to the minute, armed to the teeth, all set to drive the armies of the Taliban and al
Qaeda right back to where they came from, seize the leaders, and get rid of
anyone too dangerous to live. And restore order to the mountains.
I was eight thousand miles from home, but I could e-mail my family and
loved ones. I was a bit light on home comforts, but I had in my rucksack a DVD
player and a DVD of my favorite movie, The Count of Monte Cristo, from the
novel by Alexandre Dumas père. It’s always an inspiration to me, always raises
my spirits to watch one brave, innocent man’s lonely fight against overpowering
forces of evil in an unforgiving world.
That’s my kind of stuff. Backs to the wall. Never give in. Courage, risks,
daring beyond compare. I never thought my own problems would very shortly
mirror, albeit briefly, those of Edmond Dantès and the hopelessness of his years