Within twenty-four hours I had ordered the special operations units to assemble in North Carolina. On the SEAL side, all were senior enlisted from the same SEAL squadron. All were handpicked by the SEAL commander. All had extensive combat experience. The aviation crews were equally experienced and also handpicked. But none of them knew why they were being asked to come to North Carolina on such short notice.
The following day, as we ushered the members of the raid team into the conference room at our North Carolina location, I could see a look of annoyance on their faces. By this time, I had briefed my boss, Admiral Eric Olson, on the bin Laden mission. Olson, along with the Under Secretary of Defense for Intelligence, Mike Vickers, and several CIA senior officers, were also present in the conference room. The operators’ body language was unmistakable. Clearly, they thought they had been dragged out of Virginia Beach and Fort Campbell to participate in some kind of no-notice exercise just to impress the brass.
I offered some short welcoming remarks and then turned over the briefing to a CIA officer. He began by handing out nondisclosure forms. I watched with some amusement as the body language began to change. Rarely were nondisclosure forms required for exercises, even sensitive ones.
It took a few minutes before the forms were signed and collected. Then another CIA official stepped up on the small stage and began to brief the target. The operators shifted in their chairs, sitting up to focus on the slides on the screen.
“Gentlemen, for the past several months the CIA has been tracking an individual we call ‘the pacer.’” Embedded in the slide was a link. The CIA officer clicked on the link and a video played on the screen. Everyone watched as “the pacer” moved around the compound at AC-1. “We have reason to believe that ‘the pacer’ is Osama bin Laden.”
At the sound of bin Laden’s name there was silence in the room. I could see a number of the SEALs glancing around at each other as if to ask, Are they screwing with us or is this for real?
The briefing went on for another thirty minutes. After the CIA analyst finished, I pushed away from my table, stood up, and made sure everyone was clear on why we were here.
“Gentlemen, the President has asked us to develop a raid option to capture or kill bin Laden. For the past several weeks a small team has been planning the mission, but now we have to find out whether the plan is executable. We have less than three weeks to test and rehearse the plan. At the end of that time I have to report back to the President on the viability of the mission.”
There was no emotion from the operators. No smiles. No acknowledgment of the magnitude of the operation. Now it was all business.
“The Agency has built a mock-up of the compound just a mile from here. You have two days to work through the movements on target. After that we will move to another location out west to do the full dress rehearsals.” I offered the other senior officers an opportunity to say a few words, but they recognized that this was about the operators, not a time to wax philosophically about the importance of the mission.
“I will turn you over to your boss and you guys can work out the details.” I paused. “Any questions?”
There were none.
“All right. Let’s get to work.”
The SEAL commander and his master chief immediately pulled together the other SEALs and helo pilots and began to outline the next twenty-four hours. Within an hour, rehearsals on the mock-up had begun.
Eric Olson, Mike Vickers, and I drove to the mock-up site and watched as the SEALs did a dozen or so ground movements while the helo pilots flew multiple approaches on the compound. The Agency had done a masterful job of constructing the mock-up. There was a chain-link fence built to exactly the height and dimensions of the walls surrounding the real AC-1. In the middle of the fencing was a Lego formation of shipping containers stacked one on top of the other to simulate the living quarters and the small guesthouse. Every key feature of AC-1 was accounted for. However, owing to the short amount of time the Agency had to construct the site, there was no way to exactly replicate the thick concrete walls that surrounded the compound in Abbottabad. Later, this shortfall would come back to haunt us. Additionally, we had no knowledge of what the inside living quarters looked like. The Agency engineers and analysts made some calculations based on square footage and normal construction in the region, but we all knew that until the operators entered the house there was no way of knowing how the rooms were laid out.
Within forty-eight hours we completed the North Carolina rehearsals and subsequently moved the force out west to begin the final set of dress rehearsals. These final rehearsals would tell me whether or not I could stand before the President of the United States and, with confidence, say that we could do this mission. At this point, I was a long way from certain.
The Air Force base was located in a remote area. While the Air Force officers weren’t read-in to the mission, they knew that owing to the priority we had been given, something very important was in the works. They were incredibly professional and equally discreet.
Our task force had grown considerably since my last meeting with the President. In addition to the special operations units and my small staff, I brought in a few operational planners and senior officers from Fort Bragg, as well as my Command Sergeant Major, Chris Faris, and Captain Pete Van Hooser from Virginia Beach. All would be needed as we prepared for the mission, deployed forward, and, if directed, conducted the mission.
We set up our rehearsal command post in a small single-story building away from the main base. While the operators continued to exercise their tactical scheme of maneuver, my staff rehearsed the command and control aspect of the mission. The staff prepared detailed execution checklists, reviewed every possible scenario, and looked at every backup plan. I directed the staff to build a decision matrix, so that in the heat of the moment if something went wrong on the mission, I didn’t have to think through all the alternatives. We would work through all the possible problems ahead of time and be prepared with options. Most of my decisions were binary:
If we were detected crossing the border would we continue? Yes or no?
If we were detected one hundred miles out? Yes or no?
Fifty miles out? Yes or no?
What if we had mechanical problems with the helicopter one hundred miles out?
Fifty miles out?
Once on target, what if bin Laden was not found within fifteen minutes?
Within thirty minutes?
What if the Pakistanis converged on the target within fifteen minutes?
Within thirty minutes?
The list of possible problems was extensive, but the decisions were easy. Hard to make, but easy to discern. If we were compromised crossing the border we would turn around and try for another day. If we had a helo set down for mechanical problems at a hundred miles out from the target, but the helo was not detected, we would continue on with the force we had. If a helo crashed, but we still had sufficient force to move to the target, we would continue the mission, but alert the Quick Reaction Force and medevac. Everything was binary. On missions like these you don’t want emotions to drive your decisions. If we were compromised crossing the border and the Pakistanis threatened to shoot down our helos, you could easily convince yourself that the mission was so important that you must press forward. Decisions like that rarely ended well. We had a backup plan for every contingency and a backup to the backup.
In addition to rehearsing the SEAL ground movements and the command and control, the helos flew against a simulated Pakistani threat, trying to determine if they could mask their approach to the target. The results looked promising, but not conclusive. As I talked with the pilots, who had extensive experience in the region, they were much more confident that by using the mountains, they could hide from the Pakistani radars. While I trusted them, I remained concerned.
By the week’s end, we had rehearsed every individual aspect of the mission multiple times, but we still hadn’t put it all together. And if my research from
the Naval Postgraduate School was correct, a full dress rehearsal was absolutely necessary to find flaws in the plan. Every historical mission I analyzed for my thesis showed that when a particular part of the mission wasn’t rehearsed, that portion invariably failed. Unfortunately, time was running out and we would have to conduct our first full dress rehearsal in front of the military and civilian leaders who would ultimately influence the President’s decision.
“I’m not sure the Black Hawks can make it to the target and return without refueling.”
“What?”
J.T. Thompson looked me in the eye and said again, “Sir, we’ve done the calculations a dozen times, and with the weight of the operators and the temperatures we expect to have on the night of the mission, I don’t think we can make it there and back without stopping to refuel in Pakistan.”
I took a deep breath. All along we had planned to fly the two Black Hawks to the target, loiter for up to forty minutes, and then return. Every calculation we made indicated we could do this without refueling. Now, right before our briefing to the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, the plan was changing dramatically. Refueling the Black Hawks meant bringing in an additional MH-47 Chinook with a Forward Air Refueling Pod (FARP), a large fuel bladder. That meant another helo in Pakistani airspace and it also meant finding an isolated area where the Black Hawks and the Chinooks could land, undetected, and spend twenty minutes on the ground refueling.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Thompson said. “It’s still possible we could make it there and back, but if there are any variations in temperatures or headwinds, we’ll find ourselves landing in Taliban-controlled Pakistan and having to refuel. I’d rather we plan for it now.”
I knew Thompson was right. I had been pushing the mission planners hard to find me an option that used only two helos to get the SEALs in and out of the target. The more complex the mission, the more likely it was to fail and, I also knew, the more likely it was to be disapproved by the President.
“Okay J.T., I assume you guys have identified a secure FARP location.”
“We have, sir.”
“Well, let’s make sure the refueling is part of tonight’s rehearsal.”
“Yes sir. We’ve already taken that into account.”
I slapped Thompson on the back and said, “We’ll be fine, J.T. Get back to the guys and let’s just ensure we have everything necessary to carry out the FARP.” Thompson nodded and left. I had no doubt in my mind that he and his men would make it all work. They were simply the best in the world.
Admiral Mullen leaned forward on the aluminum bench to get a better look at the map on the floor.
“Sir, the second helo carrying Chalk Two will move to a position just outside the compound walls, fast-rope the three SEAL operators, our CIA colleague, and the military working dog. This element will secure the outside of the compound and, if required, keep the locals away from the action.”
“How fast do we think the Pakistanis could react once they know we are on the ground?” Mullen asked.
The SEAL chief petty officer briefing the Chairman answered without hesitation. “Sir, there is a police station about one mile from the target and then an entire infantry battalion approximately four miles from the target. We assess that the police will arrive first, but that it would take at least thirty minutes before an armed element from the battalion arrived. Our bigger concern is the locals who live in the houses just across this small ditch.” The chief pointed out the ditch on the floor mock-up. “With all the noise from the helos it’s highly likely that they will come over to see what’s going on.”
The chief pointed to the CIA officer who was sitting with the SEAL assault force. “Sir, Mohammad is a Pakistani American fluent in both Urdu and Dari. If a crowd develops Mohammad will tell them it is a Pakistani exercise and to go back to their homes.”
The SEAL commander chimed in. “Sir, it’s not a very good cover story, but it should buy us a few minutes and that’s all we really need.”
For the next two hours each special operations unit presented their portion of the mission to Mullen and the other VIPs. Afterward Mullen spoke personally to each man and asked them point-blank, “Are you confident you can do this mission?” Without any reservations, the answer was yes.
Pulling me aside after the brief, Mullen said, “I see we’ve added another helo to the plan.”
“Yes sir.” I hesitated a bit. “It might not be necessary if all the conditions are right, but we need to plan and rehearse as though it were necessary.”
Mullen nodded. “I agree.”
Throughout the entire planning and briefing for the mission, Admiral Mullen had been firmly in my corner. Over my time as the SOF commander, he was very active in supporting dozens of missions we had conducted all around the world. When other seniors in the interagency became weak-kneed about risky missions, Mullen’s strong leadership and confidence in the special operations force always carried the day. This mission would be no different. If the Chairman supported the raid, the President was likely to give it much greater consideration.
Over the course of the next five hours the task force conducted a flawless rehearsal. Afterward, the VIPs departed the air base and headed back to D.C. I followed shortly behind and made final preparations for the next day’s brief to the President. After tomorrow, there was nothing more I could do to convince the U.S. leadership that we were ready.
Panetta smiled as I finished my briefing to the President. The room was quiet as the President thought through what I had just told him. The mission was executable, I said. And I was confident we could get to the target, capture or kill bin Laden, and get back safely. I explained the need for the FARP and the third helo. The President politely questioned why this was just coming to light now. I explained that it became apparent when we did the additional air planning that if the temperature on target and load variations in the helo were just a few degrees or a few pounds different, then we likely wouldn’t make it all the way back to Afghanistan. The additional MH-47 with the FARP would preclude an emergency refueling in the FATA (Federally Administered Tribal Areas). The President acknowledged the change without a lot of concern.
I felt I was answering each of the President’s questions to his satisfaction. Without trying to make my case, at the expense of the other options, there seemed to be more appreciation for the raid than I had seen in past meetings. And then the conversation turned abruptly.
“What happens if the Pakistanis surround the compound when the SEALs are inside?” the President asked. Before I could answer he continued. “What happens if we get into a big firefight?” His words were measured but pointed. “What happens if they start shooting at our helos?”
Around the room the principals began to shift uncomfortably in their large leather chairs. Yeah, McRaven, what are you going to do when that happens?
All eyes turned toward me.
“Sir,” I replied, “we have a technical term for that in the military.”
Gates and Mullen exchanged puzzled glances.
“We call that”—I paused—“when the shit hits the fan!”
“Exactly!” the President responded loudly.
The Secretary and Chairman broke out laughing, but some of the senior staff seemed unamused by my humor.
I explained that with twenty-four heavily armed SEALs we could hold off the Pakistanis long enough to extract from the target. But in fact, part of our planning was not to engage the Pakistani police or the military so we didn’t escalate the situation and create an international firestorm. Clearly, the President didn’t want to compromise the success of the mission or the safety of the SEALs by trying to build a plan that was too concerned about the political fallout—which I greatly appreciated.
The President directed me to develop an alternate plan to “fight our way out” if the SEALs found themselves surrounded by the Pakistani military. “We are not going to have U.S. forces held hostage by the Pakistanis,” he said emphatically. This was an easy
addition to the base plan. There were ample forces in Afghanistan to provide backup if the SEALs needed the support. Those forces wouldn’t need to be notified until the day of the mission, so OPSEC (operations security) could be maintained.
The meeting went for another thirty minutes as we reviewed the timeline for key decisions. Before wrapping up, however, the President turned to Mike Leiter, the Director of the National Counterterrorism Center (NCTC), and asked him to have another group of intelligence analysts review CIA’s assessment about “the pacer.” Was there too much groupthink? Wasn’t this what happened with WMD in Iraq? Maybe other intelligence analysts had another view.
At the end, the President thanked everyone for their hard work, and Donilon scheduled another meeting in a week to review the options one final time.
A week later we reconvened again. The President turned to Leiter.
“Well, Mike, what do your folks think? Is ‘the pacer’ bin Laden?”
Leiter paused, looked down at the assessment his analytical team had provided him, and very carefully stated, “Sir, the team of analysts think the chance it’s bin Laden is anywhere between 60 percent and 40 percent.”
When he said 40 percent, everyone in the SITROOM took a deep breath.
“Forty percent!” Panetta exclaimed.
“That’s on the low end,” Leiter quickly responded. “But that’s still thirty-eight percent higher than we’ve been in the past ten years.”
“Mr. President,” Panetta launched in, “I am fully behind CIA’s assessment, and while I can’t tell you with certainty that it’s bin Laden, I put it at well above 60 percent. I think it’s him!”
The President looked at Panetta and nodded, and while everyone knew the 40 percent figure was the worst-case prediction, clearly the new assessment had brought added anxiety to the mission.
“All right, everyone. Let’s go over this one more time,” the President said.
After another hour of revisiting the intelligence and the options, the President gave me approval to move the SEALs and helo assault force to Afghanistan, but he made it clear that he had not made any decision yet. I left Washington on Wednesday evening, arriving in Bagram late on Thursday night.
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