That failed effort still cast a pall over the U.S. military. Panetta knew that if The Pacer was bin Laden and they had to go in and get him, they wouldn’t make the same mistakes. By all accounts, the U.S. military—especially Special Operation units—had come a long way since 1980.
But history had a way of repeating itself. Panetta understood they had to closely monitor the outcomes of this Arab Spring. What if it spread to nations like Libya, where the U.S. was already despised, or Iran, where another ayatollah was now the nation’s supreme leader? Worse, what if it spread to pro-American nations like Egypt?
Mubarak was Egypt’s ruthless dictator, but one of America’s strongest allies in the Middle East. Over the years, he had kept the peace between his nation and its neighbor, Israel. His government was stable until protesters began demanding reforms, clashing with Egyptian police and military, demanding that Mubarak step down. It was a crisis Panetta and the administration were monitoring closely.
He pulled out the briefing files. Egypt and Mubarak—just one of the stack of issues waiting for Panetta now that he was back from vacation. He went over them, one by one. He got the latest updates about the surveillance of the compound. Nothing new on that front. Analysts said they were working on several leads in the drive to identify The Pacer.
Meanwhile, Panetta continued quietly informing key congressional leaders about the bin Laden case. Panetta was trying to build trust at a time when the agency’s relationship with both political parties was frayed. He believed and preached to everyone inside the CIA that they should tell both Republican and Democratic congressional leadership details about the agency’s operations, including the new one. “You shouldn’t try to spin anything. You shouldn’t try to hide anything. You should be completely transparent with them,” Panetta said.
And congressional leaders responded. Panetta had known many of them for years, since his own days on Capitol Hill. During meetings with the oversight committees, Panetta sometimes greeted members with an embrace. He liked to have them all sit around a table and chat. It was more informal, and made them feel more comfortable—it reminded everyone they all were on the same team.
Panetta took account of the shifts in the power balance over at the Capitol. The GOP now controlled both chambers of Congress, so he asked Mike Rogers, the new chair of the House Intelligence Committee, and the committee’s new staff director, Michael Allen, to join him for dinner in his private dining room, just down the hall from his office.
By now, the seventh floor of CIA headquarters had become Panetta’s home in Washington. He certainly spent more time there than in his attic apartment. So in the quiet of his office with his dog by his side, Panetta briefed Rogers and Allen on everything intelligence analysts had uncovered. He told them about the compound in Abbottabad and the CIA’s efforts to find out who lived there. They listened in silence. And before they left, they promised not to say a word.
Morell was one of the few people who knew that Panetta had briefed congressional leaders as well as the military. He told Panetta he supported his decision, but it was fraught with risk. How long until the president found out? And what then?
Right now, Panetta had other concerns. In the presidential briefing in December, Obama had asked him to explore options for an attack on the compound. Now Panetta was putting together a plan for how the CIA’s special operations team would go after bin Laden, once they could prove he was The Pacer. But Panetta knew the CIA’s paramilitary force could only go so far. They needed more people to advise on logistics—the experts at the Pentagon.
Panetta didn’t know it yet, but someone there was waiting for his call.
COUNTDOWN: 93 DAYS
January 28, 2011
Washington, D.C.
With the late afternoon sunlight fading over Washington, D.C., Vice Admiral William McRaven caromed from CIA headquarters to the Pentagon, from luncheon to briefing to meeting. It would almost be a relief to hop on a military plane in the evening and wake up again in Afghanistan.
As the man in charge of the U.S. Joint Special Operations Command, McRaven planned missions for the military’s elite counterterrorism units, like the SEALs, Delta Force, and the Green Berets. He’d been summoned to the nation’s capital by the Pentagon’s top brass to meet with the CIA’s Morell, who wanted to brief him about something important.
He had been expecting the call. As much as Obama wanted to keep the bin Laden case a secret, McRaven had already heard bits and pieces. In December, during a visit to Afghanistan, Mullen, the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, pulled McRaven aside. The CIA might have a lead on bin Laden, he said. “They may call you to come back and take a look at the intelligence.”
McRaven shrugged. Yeah right, he thought. He had seen a lot of leads before and they all seemed to evaporate.
But a month later, here he was, at CIA headquarters with Vickers, the undersecretary of defense for intelligence. One of Morell’s assistants greeted them in the lobby. He led them straight to his boss’s office, where Morell, Gary, Sam, and Mike were waiting. McRaven and Vickers grabbed chairs while Morell shut the door.
Morell didn’t waste any time. His team told McRaven and Vickers everything the CIA knew about the compound and The Pacer. They handed out surveillance photographs of the compound and The Pacer so they could see for themselves. Morell explained the painstaking research that led them to the Abbottabad fortress and the man who lived so secretly inside.
“We believe The Pacer is bin Laden,” Morell said. “We’re working hard to confirm his identity.”
McRaven paid attention to every word. When Morell finished, he smiled. “Congratulations to you all,” he said. “This is an incredible piece of work.”
Morell shared other details, too. In a meeting before Christmas, Obama had asked Panetta to keep up the surveillance of the compound, and to start putting together options for a possible raid. One option involved using the CIA’s special operations teams. That plan called for agency operators to gradually work their way into position close to the fortress, then, at night, charge the compound, capture bin Laden, and smuggle him out of Pakistan.
But after evaluating details, agency officials told Panetta they didn’t think the CIA could take the compound and capture the occupants all on their own. Panetta came to the same conclusion. An operation of this size and complexity would require the skills and experience of military Special Forces.
Panetta had explained that to Obama a few days earlier, during a January 24 meeting in the Situation Room. Obama agreed, and asked Panetta to bring military leaders into the bin Laden case. Panetta let out a great, silent sigh of relief. The president didn’t know that a month earlier, Panetta had informed the Pentagon’s top military leaders.
“That’s why you’re here,” Morell said to McRaven. Then he asked the admiral a question, “If you had to take down this compound, how would you do it?”
McRaven shrugged. This raid wouldn’t be much different than thousands of others he had conducted in his long career, he said. They’d need a team of special operators, Delta Force or SEALs. Under the cover of darkness, helicopters would hover over the target while the men fast-roped to the ground and methodically worked their way into the compound. They’d kill everything that got in their way until they reached the target. If he surrendered, fine, they’d capture him. If he resisted, they’d kill him and get the hell out of there. Pretty simple, right?
But there was a twist that would make this mission a great deal more complicated. They were flying into another country without permission. “It might be harder getting out than getting in,” McRaven said.
Morell nodded. That was something they’d have to discuss—what would happen if Pakistani police or military responded during the raid? How would they handle that?
They’d work that out later. For now, McRaven said, he would be happy to help with the planning. The briefing was over. McRaven and Vickers left the building. But outside, as he walked to the SUV, McRaven knew this
mission was right in the special ops wheelhouse.
America’s War on Terror depended more and more on special operations units than regular U.S. forces. There hadn’t been a traditional battle—with major U.S. forces in an all-out assault—since Tora Bora in December of 2001.
Special units went in after high-value targets, the people who were leading the insurgency that had planted IEDs and terrorized the people of Iraq and Afghanistan. These small units could drop in and get out of dangerous, remote places quickly. They hit their targets and disappeared into the night.
McRaven was the perfect choice to lead this new kind of warfare. He had literally written the book on special operations. He was tall and handsome, with a rugged, friendly face, a Texan who was outgoing but not loud.
Admiral William McRaven.
He was a son of the regiment. His father, Colonel Claude McRaven, had flown Spitfire fighter planes in World War II, appeared in Wheaties commercials, and played two seasons of pro football with the then Cleveland Rams of the National Football League, before continuing his career as a U.S. Air Force officer.
Bill McRaven, his only son, was born near Fort Bragg, North Carolina. The family soon moved to Lackland Air Force Base in San Antonio, Texas, where young McRaven excelled at sports. He attended the University of Texas, and signed up for the Navy ROTC while he explored his career options.
He fell in love with a pretty young woman from Dallas named Georgeann Brady. He decided to take up his ROTC commission in the navy, but he didn’t want to be a regular officer. McRaven wanted to be a SEAL.
He graduated in 1977, married Georgeann, and began his journey. Although McRaven was a good athlete, BUD/S pushed him to the edge. He managed to make it through, and worked his way up the command structure.
It was an excellent time to be a keen young officer. Ronald Reagan was inaugurated as president in 1981, and initiated a military buildup meant to counter Soviet expansion. His Cold War budget likewise fortified the SEALs and other Special Forces programs.
The Soviet Union began to crumble in 1989, but other threats to the United States quickly filled the vacuum. Iraqi leader Saddam Hussein invaded Kuwait in 1990, and President George H. W. Bush put together a coalition to fight the dictator. McRaven was part of Operation Desert Shield, which liberated Kuwait and sent Hussein’s troops straggling in retreat back to Iraq.
After the war, McRaven earned a master’s degree at the Naval Postgraduate School in Monterey, California. He saw a need for a graduate-level program in special operations warfare—not just for the navy, but throughout the armed services. McRaven helped create the school’s special operations and low intensity conflict curriculum, and in 1996 was the program’s first graduate. His master’s thesis, “The Theory of Special Operations,” broke new ground.
McRaven’s paper reviewed a series of daring twentieth-century commando operations, including a 1943 glider rescue of Mussolini ordered by Hitler, and the 1976 Israeli operation to free hostages in Entebbe, Uganda. It detailed how a small group of highly trained, well-rehearsed soldiers can use stealth to maintain short-term superiority over larger or better-armed forces. The keys to successful missions, he wrote, are simplicity, security, repetition, surprise, speed, and purpose.
His master’s thesis was published as a book. It quickly became the bible for military special operations units throughout the world. McRaven used those principles to develop a model for special operations to shape U.S. military strategy.
Still, McRaven was not an academic theorist. During his long career, he had personally commanded or carried out more than a thousand special operations in some of the most dangerous places imaginable, mostly going after high-value targets in Afghanistan.
While parachuting in 2001, McRaven was knocked semiconscious and plunged four thousand feet before his chute opened. The accident broke his pelvis and fractured his back. He took months to recover, but the accident only bolstered his die-hard reputation.
He was in charge of the 2009 rescue of Richard Phillips, a ship captain who was captured by Somali pirates. President Obama described McRaven as a “can-do guy. Plain spoken with a dry sense of humor.”
Now McRaven leaned back in his seat as the SUV weaved in and out of traffic. It was only a short drive from the CIA to the Pentagon, but it gave McRaven enough time to think over what he’d say to his bosses.
Here was another high-profile mission, a challenge he could get his teeth into. The intelligence was interesting, but McRaven also knew there had been dozens of bin Laden sightings over the years, in places all over the world. Bin Laden was the Middle East version of Elvis Presley. Still, this lead seemed the most compelling of the lot.
McRaven shifted into planning mode. He’d keep the operation simple, and once they had a team in place they’d rehearse like crazy. This mission would be extra complicated, but if he followed the steps in his own handbook, maybe—just maybe—they could pull it off.
He and Vickers made their way to the defense secretary’s office, where Gates and Mullen were waiting. McRaven glanced out the window at the stunning view of the Potomac and the historic center of Washington, D.C. Portraits of Lincoln, George Washington, and old soldiers looked down on them from the walls.
“What do you think, Bill?” Gates said.
“Sir, it’s a compound. We do compound raids every night in Afghanistan,” he said. Arriving at the target undetected might be the most challenging part, but once they got there, it would be “pretty straightforward.”
“How many men would you need?” Mullen asked. McRaven thought about that. It was a large compound, around thirty thousand square feet.
“Probably twenty-five to thirty men,” he said.
Mullen nodded. “OK, Bill. I don’t know that we need to do anything right now. The CIA has the lead.” At some point they might ask for McRaven’s help with planning the mission, Mullen said.
“No worries, sir. We’ll be standing by to help with whatever they need,” McRaven said.
“How long are you in town?” Mullen asked.
McRaven said he was headed back to Afghanistan in a few hours. But he said he could return to the United States whenever they needed him.
He rose from his chair. Mullen stopped him. He had something important to say. “Bill, you can’t tell anyone else about this mission. If word were to leak out, it would be disastrous.”
McRaven said he understood. “But if I put together a mission, I’ll have to bring some others in.”
McRaven and Vickers left the Pentagon and went their separate ways. McRaven settled into the military plane for the long flight back, and pondered the mission for much of the next seventeen hours.
The last year had been a bumpy ride. He’d been diagnosed with chronic lymphocytic leukemia, a type of blood cancer. He had refused to leave his command in Afghanistan. They were fighting the Taliban. He had a job to do.
This mission might take a whole lot more of his time and energy, and McRaven was already fighting cancer. He could pull himself off the mission now and no one would say a word.
But he might have a shot at getting bin Laden.
No, he was going to keep going. This was no time to quit.
COUNTDOWN: 75 DAYS
February 15, 2011
Langley, Virginia
Another day, another crisis. Panetta prepared for a day filled with meetings. The pace had picked up in the last couple of months with the Arab Spring, and now a CIA agent was facing murder charges in Pakistan. An Al Qaeda bomber had been arrested in Abbottabad of all places, and that turned up the heat on the bin Laden lead. Panetta laid his hand on Bravo’s head and felt the big dog’s tail slowly wag under the desk. Pure stress relief, that dog.
He had just returned to his office after a White House session with Tom Donilon and John Brennan, two of Obama’s top national security advisors. Panetta met with them once a week to update them on issues facing the United States, as well as covert CIA operations. They in turn would relay the informati
on to Obama.
But today, Panetta had something special to communicate. Time was running out for The Pacer in his Abbottabad courtyard—they’d have to move soon or risk losing their chance.
Panetta was taking the next step, meeting up with “Hoss” Cartwright, the vice chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, to create “a real set of options” for the president’s decision-making.
Over the last month, so many major events had unfolded that it was hard to keep on top of them all. The bin Laden operation was the top priority, but there were other serious issues, too.
Pro-democracy uprisings had been spreading across the Middle East. In Egypt, President Hosni Mubarak had been driven from office that month, after his military units refused to use force against protesters. Mubarak was a corrupt old dictator, but Egypt had kept the peace with Israel for thirty years.
What would happen next in Egypt? If radical Islamists took over, the entire Middle East would light up—Egypt was one of a handful of Arab nations that recognized Israel as a legitimate country.
Now protests were starting up in Morocco, as well as Libya and Syria and Yemen.
While Mubarak had been quick to use the military and secret police to silence opponents, his rule paled in comparison to Libya’s Muammar al-Gaddafi and Syria’s Bashar al-Assad. Both men were brutal dictators. They didn’t hesitate to kill opponents. Peaceful protests? No way. It was likely that only armed revolt would remove Gaddafi and Assad from power.
Panetta’s other months-long diplomatic nightmare was Raymond Davis, a CIA contractor in Pakistan. A security expert hired to protect American officials, Davis had been stuck in traffic in Lahore the previous month. Two armed men on a black motorcycle stopped by his car. One jumped off the bike and pointed his gun at Davis.
Davis pulled out a Glock 9-millimeter pistol and shot them both dead. He jumped out of his car, photographed the dying man who had pulled the gun on him, then called the American consulate.
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