SEAL Target Geronimo: The Inside Story of the Mission to Kill Osama Bin Laden (29 page)

SEALs on board the Command Bird carried digital cameras so they could photograph each of the residents. After the location was secured, the interpreter would question them and try to determine their relationship to Osama or Al Qaeda. Each SEAL on the mission carried photographs of known Al Qaeda members who were thought to be bodyguards or couriers.

That was the plan.

*   *   *

In Washington, D.C., on the morning of Sunday, May 1, technicians from JSOC led by Deputy Commander Brigadier General Marshall Webb began arriving at the White House. After being signed in, they were shown into the basement situation room, where they established communication with the Joint Operations Center in Afghanistan and the National Military Command Center at the Pentagon. They also set up a video conference link to CIA headquarters across the Potomac in Langley, Virginia. When the connection was made to Afghanistan, General Webb somewhat sheepishly informed Admiral McRaven that the president was spending the morning playing golf. He was not to be expected back until two o’clock, Washington time—just thirty minutes prior to the launch of the Stealth Hawks.

At two o’clock in the afternoon, the president returned from the golf course and had lunch. While he ate, President Obama was informed of the arrival of Vice President Joe Biden, Secretary of Defense Gates, and Secretary of State Clinton. The chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Admiral Mullen, had been among the first to arrive. They gathered in a conference room and waited for the president to join them.

An experienced SEAL Team operator was sent to CIA headquarters to sit with CIA director Leon Panetta as he watched the video feed from the Sentinel drone circling over Abbottabad. During the operation, this SEAL would have the task of explaining to the director what he was seeing on the overhead feed. Once connected to the White House, Director Panetta would add his commentary to the video links maintained by the unflappable General Webb. This arrangement allowed Leon Panetta to remain at CIA headquarters and provide color commentary to what would later be called a CIA operation.

No one at JSOC batted an eye.

*   *   *

In Afghanistan at 2130 hours local, 9:30 p.m., it was full dark. Flashlight 1 and 2, the Chinooks destined for the refuel site, were towed out to the flight line and started their engines. The Command Bird and the Gun Platform were also readied for flight. The assaulters of Razor 1 and 2 helped TF-160 personnel push the Stealth Hawks out of the hangar. The emotions of the flight crews of the Ghost Hawks that were scrubbed from the mission can only be imagined. It was a bittersweet moment to watch the SEALs load aboard the second-string Stealth Hawks and disappear into the night.

At 2200 hours local, 10:00 p.m. in Afghanistan, and 2:00 p.m. Sunday afternoon in Washington, D.C., Razors 1 and 2 lifted off and headed for the Pakistani frontier. The Command Bird, the Gun Platform, and Flashlights 1 and 2 followed. Flying in a line with the Stealth Hawks far in the lead, the six blacked-out helicopters turned toward the border.

Razor 1 flew down a complicated course that took the helicopters between mountains, down steep valleys, and along dry riverbeds, using the cover of the mountains as much as possible to stay under Pakistani radar. Razor 1 communicated using brevity codes to mark its progress. The pilots flew using night-vision devices clipped to their helmets. The lead ship called out waypoints using the names of U.S. cities to mark their progress south. The Stealth Hawks and the trailing Chinooks passed waypoints Charlotte, Atlanta, and Savannah. Locations in Florida meant that they had crossed into Pakistan. Before Razor 1 called out “Jacksonville,” Flashlight 1 and 2 broke formation and landed in a wide, dry riverbed three miles from the frontier.

Disembarking from Flashlight 2, fifteen SEAL operators quickly established a perimeter while the helicopters idled. Red Squadron had been joined by an in-country delegation of Bones Men. It was the Bones Men’s job to make sure no Taliban fighters attacked the helicopters idling at the forward refueling spot. They would remain on security for the next three hours.

As Razor 1 and Razor 2 approached the Pakistani frontier, the Command Bird and the Gun Platform fell back slightly and then opened the distance between themselves and the Stealth Hawks to five miles. The MH-47 Chinook is the workhorse of special operations forces in Afghanistan. Its powerful engines allow it to operate at high altitudes; it has outstanding range and is an extraordinarily rugged aircraft. But, unlike the Stealth Hawk, a Chinook makes a lot of noise and also presents a big, fat target on radar.

In the operations center, communicators established contact with the EA-6 Prowler. It had also penetrated Pakistani airspace, but from the south, crossing into Pakistan at about the same time Razor 1 and 2 crossed the northern frontier. The Prowler lit off its jammers, concealing itself and the low-flying helicopters from Pakistani air defense.

Electronic warfare is an invisible battle. No one in the operations center or aboard the helicopters could be certain that the Prowler had prevented them from being detected by Pakistani fighters or surface-to-air missile sites. For the next ninety minutes, the Stealth Hawks and the two Chinooks continued toward a rendezvous with destiny.

In Razor 1, snipers and spotters checked their weapons and flipped down their night-vision goggles. Instead of the relatively stable platform of a five-hundred-foot-long Navy destroyer, this time the SEALs would have to shoot from a moving helicopter in near total darkness. To make a shot they would have to put infrared laser beams on target, aim, and fire all while wearing night-vision goggles and hanging out the door of a flying helicopter. Aboard Razor 2, the sniper designated to fire the first shots of engagement repeated the mantra of all SEAL snipers—
Don’t let me screw up
.

Aboard Razor 1 and 2 the SEALs were packed on top of each other. In order to keep their arms and legs from falling asleep, men had to periodically shove their teammates. In so doing they pushed people who bumped into other people until the shove came back to the person who started it. The insides of both helicopters were tangles of body armor, weapons, radios, and deadly satchels of high explosives. It occurred to one crew chief that if the C4 went off there wouldn’t be anything left to prove they had ever entered Pakistan in the first place.

The Command Bird and the Gun Platform were six miles behind Razor 1 and 2, flying low and using the mountains north of Abbottabad to mask the thumping noise of their rotors. All they could do was hope that the clattering of the Chinooks would not reach the walls of the compound before the Stealth Hawks were able to insert the first assaulters.

At fifty-six minutes past midnight, precisely on time, Razor 1 called out “Palm Beach” over the radio. The pilot cued the intercom and told Frank Leslie they were three minutes out. The Red Squadron leader disconnected his headphones from the helicopter’s intercom and plugged himself back into his personal radio.

In the hot darkness of the Stealth Hawk’s cabin he rocked his shoulders against the men piled next to him. He then held up three fingers and the SEALs pulled themselves up onto their feet. Leaning against each other, they crouched and held on as best they could. Members of the sniper cell maneuvered themselves in front of the helicopter’s port and starboard doors and made ready their weapons. Some of the assaulters slapped their hands against sleepy limbs; others pulled at the collars of their body armor and felt the trickle of sweat down their backs. Weapons straps were checked, and holsters adjusted. Leaning across the tangle of bodies, shooting partners switched on their buddies back-mounted radios and earphones warbled as transmitters logged on to the secure frequencies that would link the shooters with one another.

Aboard Razor 2 this process was repeated. The assault teams made themselves ready, flipped down their night-vision devices, checked breaching charges, and switched on their night-vision goggles.

Aboard Razor 1 Frank Leslie craned his neck to look out between the pilots through the windshield—he couldn’t see the ground or even catch a glimpse of the horizon. Through his night-vision gear all he could see was green static. He had to take the pilot’s word that they were getting close.

Frank saw the pilot lift his left hand off the helicopter’s collective and make a peace sign. They were two minutes out. Aboard Razor 1 and 2 crewmembers threw latches and pulled back the port and starboard doors.

The hot, muggy night swirled into the cabin. Wind through the open doors fluttered their uniforms against their arms and legs. The SEALs could smell the scent of farmland and pine as Razor 1 came out of the hills and descended to an altitude of twenty feet. Fields and orchards flashed under them—they were now heading straight for the compound.

As the doors came back on Razor 2, Mel Hoyle positioned himself on the starboard side behind the pilot. His spotter crouched beside him, his headset connected by the helicopter’s intercom to the pilots on the flight deck. In the Nevada desert they had practiced yawing the helicopter sideways so that the snipers could get a clear shot out of the open doors of the helicopter. That was what they planned tonight.

Thirty seconds.

Razor 2 settled at an altitude of fifty feet, trailing Razor 1 and slightly to the left. Ahead was the square shape of the main house and the high, triangular wall that screened the compound from the dirt road in front and the farm fields spreading behind.

One hundred yards from the main house, Razor 1 climbed to thirty feet; the nose of the helo lifted and settled toward the roof of the main building.

The pilots were shocked to find that the boxlike structure on the roof was twice as high as expected—instead of being three feet tall, it was almost five. The pilots had counted on setting down directly on the roof but in the pitch dark they didn’t dare. The wall looked too high. The pilot steadied the pitching helicopter seven feet above the roof and managed to hold it there.

Framed in the open hatch, Frank Leslie hesitated for a second. His night-vision goggles showed the roof, but he knew from experience that distance was a hard thing to gauge electronically. He cocked his head so that his eyes could look around the bottom of his NODs. He knew the helicopter had been put into a hover, and he knew they were some distance from the roof, obviously above the three-sided box. There was no time to discuss the situation with the flight deck.

He jumped, and his SEALs followed him, throwing themselves into a lime-colored void.

They landed on the roof with a series of heavy thumps. Under the weight of their gear, several of the assaulters landed hard. They crawled to the edge of the roof and dropped down onto the third-floor patio.

*   *   *

While Razor 1 was hovering over the main building, Mel Hoyle and Razor 2 were passing slowly down the perimeter of the compound at an altitude of about thirty feet. Razor 2 went into a hover at the apex of the compound’s triangle-shaped perimeter. Just inside the angle, the south-facing doors and windows of the guest quarters were the only way in or out. Razor 2 was on perch, and the doors were covered. It was Mel’s job to make sure no one from the guesthouse came or went. As he had done aboard the
Bainbridge
Mel would spot for the primary shooter, but he was armed and ready to lay down suppressing fire to keep the compound clear.

Aboard Razor 2, Mel and the primary marksman were positioned tight behind the starboard portion of the flight deck. Cradling a long-barreled M-4 rifle, the shooter was sitting cross-legged next to the open door. Mel was leaning over him like an umpire. He was in a position to talk to both the pilot and direct fire.

Through the open starboard hatch the assaulters aboard Razor 2 could see that Razor 1 was now in a hover over the roof. The brief was for Razor 2 to wait fifteen or twenty seconds before landing themselves on the roof of the guesthouse. Twenty seconds in combat can be an eternity.

*   *   *

As Razor 2 moved down the walls, the scent of a barnyard wafted up into the cabin. Mel could see a trio of cattle moving across the wide enclosed area to his left. Around the cattle he saw small shapes darting about. He raised his rifle to his eye and sighted in: they were chickens. Pushed about by the helicopter’s down blast, the birds flapped around the spooked cattle. There were dozens, scores of chickens running about. Some were stampeded under the legs of a pair of milk cows, now headed as far away from the helicopter as possible. The sight was comical, but no one laughed.

Directly below Razor 2, lights came on in the guesthouse. A shadow moved in front of one window and then another, and then a door opened. Two people crowded the doorway; one carried an AK-47 assault rifle. Osama’s courier had just stepped out of a lighted room into a moonless night and he was blind. Razor 1 was behind him, on top of the main building, cut off from his view by the guesthouse and another wall. Either he could not see, or did not look, above him. If he had, he would have seen the Stealth Hawk, and he might have caught a glimpse of the two riflescopes that now pointed in his direction. The shooter lifted his rifle and sprayed bullets waist high to the left. The hot blink of the muzzle blast lit the walls as Abu Ahmed al Kuwaiti cranked off another burst, his AK belching fire.

Mel heard the words “Bust him” crackle in his headset. It was his own voice; the words had materialized from between his ears to the tip of his tongue. He wasn’t aware of even thinking about speech—his attention was down range on the target. It was a firefight now and he switched his rifle from fire to auto.

Razor 2 yawed slightly to port. As al Kuwaiti came into view, the sniper seated next to Mel fired twice. Mel leveled two three-round bursts at the man with the rifle. The silencers chuffed. Every one of their bullets hit al Kuwaiti.

In the doorway, al Kuwaiti was blown off his feet. His AK-47 spun in a half circle up and out of his hands. Two of the bullets passed through his chest and killed the person standing behind him. It was his wife.