Countdown bin Laden

by Chris Wallace

  No one could say if bin Laden’s followers would turn him into a martyr. No one knew if this could be a turning point in the war in Afghanistan. The exact impact would remain unclear.

  For years, American intelligence had said that bin Laden was an important symbol, but that he was operationally less than significant. He was on the run, hindered in any meaningful leadership role. Yet he had remained the most potent face of terrorism around the world, and most of those who played down his role in recent years nonetheless celebrated his death.

  Given bin Laden’s status among radical Islamists, the American government braced for possible retaliation. Military bases in the United States and around the world were ordered to a higher state of readiness. The State Department issued a worldwide travel warning, urging Americans in volatile areas “to limit their travel outside of their homes and hotels and avoid mass gatherings and demonstrations.”

  But something strange happened in the days and weeks that followed. Despite threats and saber rattling, there were no terrorist attacks. It was as if Al Qaeda and its supporters were in a state of shock. Their leader was gone. What would they do now?

  As the excitement faded, President Obama noticed something else, something positive. The mood of the country had changed. There seemed to be more optimism in America. Bin Laden’s death “offered a catharsis of sorts.” The American people had experienced a decade of war. They believed that “violent extremism was here to stay.” But now they had hope.

  The man held responsible for two decades of terror and death was dead now, buried beneath the sea. Maybe the world had turned a corner, and peace was possible. Maybe better days were ahead.

  Jalalabad, Afghanistan

  Accolades poured in for Admiral McRaven. He had overseen thousands of missions in his career, but none had the impact of this one, or resonated as much with the public.

  He became a public figure overnight, the face of the SEALs. So many things had gone right for the mission. Even when they went wrong, McRaven was cool and calm under pressure. Everyone in the Situation Room and Langley and Jalalabad witnessed his unflappable grace under excruciating conditions. They’d seen how his men responded.

  Obama called McRaven “famously cool under pressure.” If the president had to pick one person to “represent everything right about our military, Bill McRaven might have been that person.”

  McRaven didn’t like the limelight. He retreated to his office, where he combed through the operation reports to learn the details on the things that had gone haywire.

  Why had the Black Hawk crashed to the ground while hovering over the compound? Engineers said the chopper got caught in an air vortex caused by higher-than-expected temperatures and the high compound walls, which blocked the downwash of the rotor’s blades. During dress rehearsals, they had substituted chain-link fences for the masonry walls. The air could flow through them instead of being trapped.

  McRaven also discovered another problem. The day of the mission, the meteorologists said the temperature would be 18 degrees Celsius, or 64.4 degrees Fahrenheit. That was perfect for the operation. But it turned out they were wrong. The temperature was really between 20 and 23 degrees Celsius, or between 68 and 73.4 degrees Fahrenheit. Flying in that was a mistake. If McRaven had known the real temperature, he might have postponed the mission.

  But in the days and weeks after, McRaven felt an incredible sense of pride. He knew the raid was for all the people who were killed on 9/11, the men and women who gave their lives in Iraq and Afghanistan, and those who were wounded in those conflicts. In the end, the mission was for “all those around the world who suffered as a result of this man’s evil.”

  President Obama knew the critical role McRaven had played in the mission—and he wanted to thank him.

  A few days after the raid, when McRaven was in Washington, he got a call that Obama wanted to see him. When he arrived at the Oval Office, the president shook hands with him and offered him “heartfelt thanks for his extraordinary leadership.”

  Obama told McRaven that he had a gift for him. He opened his desk drawer and pulled out a handsome oak plaque with a tape measure mounted neatly in the center. McRaven smiled and recalled Obama’s joke once he’d learned McRaven used a SEAL to measure bin Laden’s corpse.

  McRaven gave the plaque to the Joint Special Operations Command headquarters at Fort Bragg, North Carolina, so they could put it in a display case. A few weeks later, a guy showed up at McRaven’s house at Fort Bragg. He told McRaven that the president found out he gave away the plaque.

  McRaven protested that he hadn’t given it away, but instead donated it.

  The man smiled and handed McRaven another one. “The president wanted to make sure you have one that you can pass on to your children.”

  McRaven was touched by the president’s kindness. “Tell him that was very gracious,” he said.

  Abbottabad, Pakistan

  Dr. Afridi was on the run. He had to get out of Pakistan. Fast. He read the newspapers. He watched the broadcasts. He listened to the radio. Americans had raided that home in Abbottabad—the one he had been trying to get inside. They found Osama bin Laden. The terrorist leader was dead. Afridi was worried that he could be next.

  When the doctor had talked to the CIA, he didn’t know bin Laden was the target. He had no idea who was inside the compound. Bin Laden? He didn’t even consider that. Now his heart was racing. He knew if Pakistan’s notorious Inter-Services Intelligence found out he had been working with the CIA, he would be in deep trouble.

  From the news reports, Pakistani authorities were swarming all over the city. It was just a matter of time before they found out about him. That he had been trying to get inside the fortress at the end of the dead-end street. Word had a way of getting out.

  So Afridi rushed home. He told his wife they had to pack. No time to waste. They were getting out of Abbottabad. She didn’t ask many questions. But she knew it would look suspicious. She was the principal of a government school. They had three children. They were just going to pull up stakes and leave without explanation? But the terrorized look on her husband’s face said it all.

  Afridi didn’t have a plan. It was hard to even think straight. He just knew he had to find a way to get across the border to Afghanistan. If he could make it there, he’d find a way to reach out to his handlers. They’d help him get to the United States. They had to.

  But he didn’t have time to think about that now. He had to pack.

  Langley, Virginia

  Leon Panetta beamed. The day after the raid, he called an agencywide meeting in the CIA auditorium. He took the stage to shouts, cheers, and applause. In typical Panetta style, he stared at the crowd, then deadpanned, “What the hell are you all excited about?” Everyone laughed, and he broke into a broad smile.

  Panetta knew he wouldn’t be there much longer. He had just been nominated as defense secretary. That morning, in front of the men and women of the world’s largest spy agency, personal ambition didn’t matter. He just wanted them all to know that this victory was their victory, too. The mission would go down as one of the greatest in U.S. history. He dedicated the operation to every officer who had ever worked in a war zone, and every analyst who had ever helped thwart an Al Qaeda attack overseas or at home.

  Meanwhile, Gary, Sam, Maya, and the entire team of analysts knew they had a lot of work ahead. The SEAL raiders had hauled home a treasure trove from the compound. Ten computer hard drives and five computers revealed countless secrets. They included seventy-nine thousand audio files, ten thousand videos, and bin Laden’s personal journal. While they didn’t uncover an immediate terrorist plot against the United States or its allies, Gary and others began exploiting the information.

  Virginia Beach, Virginia

  When the C-17 landed in the United States, the SEALs braced themselves for a media onslaught. They understood the raid was big news, and that journalists were scrambling to learn the details. Reporters knew that Seal Team 6 was bas
ed in Virginia Beach, so the streets would be full of satellite trucks. Television crews would be hitting bars and other places they thought the guys would hang out. They wanted to know everything about the “elite band of brothers.”

  O’Neill realized the impact as soon as he turned on his cell phone. Ping, ping, ping. He had been bombarded with messages from loved ones. Was he on the raid? Was he back home yet?

  O’Neill could hear the other SEALs’ phones pinging, too. No one was allowed to say much. The raid was classified. Only the commanders could talk about it. O’Neill knew he could tell his family that yes, he was there, but he couldn’t say much more than that.

  Their squadron commander was waiting on the flight line when the SEALs stepped off the plane. He gave everyone a handshake and a hug. In the distance, O’Neill could see the buses that would take them back to the base. But as they moved closer, he could see that a couple hundred of their navy teammates had come along to congratulate them, too.

  O’Neill walked onto the bus and leaned back in his seat. They’d only left here a week earlier, on their way to that mysterious compound in Pakistan. Now they were back again. Was it a dream? Did it really happen? It was surreal.

  O’Neill called his father and told him he was safe. The older man told his son he’d prayed and prayed for his safe return, and now his prayers were answered.

  Likewise, his son had to give thanks, too. He hadn’t thought he would be coming home this time. He’d believed, like the others, that Al Qaeda fighters were stationed in the house, that the place was wired with explosives. It was almost odd to still be here. The Martyrs’ Brigade had made it home alive.

  So when O’Neill walked through his front door, he hugged his wife and children with special tenderness. It was finally time to celebrate.

  Chesney, full of joy, phoned his folks on the way home to his apartment. Cairo sat in the passenger seat. After a mission Chesney was supposed to take Cairo directly to the kennel. Handlers weren’t allowed to bring their dogs home. But forget about rules, Chesney thought—not tonight! The dog had done his duty, right? He deserved to celebrate, too.

  Cairo wagged his tail. Chesney opened the door to his apartment, dropped his gear, headed to the refrigerator, and pulled out two filets mignons. Steak dinner!

  They feasted. Chesney got cleaned up and went to bed. But this was no barracks room, and Cairo wasn’t about to sleep on the floor. The dog jumped up and hogged the bed all night. Chesney didn’t mind. It was all good. They both slept like babies.

  When Chesney brought Cairo back to the kennel the next day, he got a stern talking-to. He couldn’t do that again, the officer said. Chesney understood the regulations. But he’d only taken Cairo home for one night. He didn’t regret it.

  Chesney knew that he was supposed to go back to separating from Cairo, that this mission was a fluke. Cairo was going to become a training dog until it was time for him to retire.

  For now, they were going their separate ways. Before he left the kennel, Chesney knelt, rubbed his hand against Cairo’s head, and whispered, “I’ll be back soon.”

  Dallas, Texas

  President Obama asked Michael Morell to do him a favor: fly to Dallas, Texas, to give former president George W. Bush a detailed briefing about the raid.

  Obama knew Morell had been close to Bush. He’d been responsible for preparing his President’s Daily Brief. And Morell was with President Bush on that terrible day, September 11, 2001.

  Morell said he would be honored to do it. He took a senior CIA analyst and an officer from JSOC with him. When he got there, Bush was gracious as usual. “Good to see you,” he said as he shook Morell’s hand.

  They sat down and caught up on their family news, then Bush said he wanted Morell to tell him every little detail. Morell nodded his head. Of course.

  Morell could never forget the moment he heard the news about the terrorist attacks, or the look on Bush’s face when he told him he believed Al Qaeda was responsible—and that all roads would lead to Osama bin Laden.

  The CIA man patiently walked Bush through how they collected the intelligence, how it started with a courier and led to a compound in Abbottabad. Then the JSOC officer went into details about the raid, the downed helicopter, and how a SEAL shot and killed bin Laden in a room on the third floor of the compound’s main house. It sounded like an action thriller.

  At the end, Bush smiled. “You know, Laura and I were supposed to go to the movies tonight, but this is better than any movie I’ll ever see,” he told them. “I think we’ll stay home.”

  Then, as they prepared to leave, Bush reached out and shook Morell’s hand. Morell could feel something in his palm. Bush had given him a special “challenge coin,” one with “commander in chief” engraved on it. Morell fought back the tears. Morell and his boss at the agency, George Tenet, had tried to warn others about Al Qaeda before the 9/11 attacks. Morell was haunted by that. Now, for the first time in years, he felt a sense of closure.

  Fort Campbell, Kentucky

  It had been a remarkable week, an outpouring of patriotism that hadn’t been seen since 9/11. Obama knew the mission had had a profound effect on Americans. The nation was unified. How long would it last? There was one more thing he wanted to do: He wanted to personally thank the SEALs.

  They gathered at Fort Campbell, Kentucky, home base of the 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment, the Night Stalkers unit whose helicopters had carried the commandos to bin Laden’s compound. There the SEALs’ identities would be shielded, and the president could spend a bit of private time with the men who’d pulled off the raid.

  The SEALs had just begun to unwind at home when Gates visited their commanders in Virginia Beach and told them all to pack up. They were traveling to Kentucky to meet the president.

  For O’Neill, it had already been a whirlwind week. The SEALs were awarded Silver Stars. They’d been dodging television cameras in Virginia Beach. In a way, it was like being chased by the paparazzi. So this is what it’s like to be a celebrity, O’Neill thought.

  In Kentucky, one of the pilots of the Night Stalker regiment had walked over to O’Neill and gave him a “stiff salute,” right in front of the others—a sign of great personal respect.

  O’Neill was embarrassed. He knew the other SEALs would be pissed about it. Since he’d returned, some of his close friends had been shunning him. The same thing happened with his friend Jonny after he shot and killed the Somali pirate. There was professional jealousy that O’Neill was the one who’d taken down bin Laden. They all wanted to be that guy. Now O’Neill was learning what it was like to be “a fucking hero.”

  At Fort Campbell, the president and Joe Biden entered the room with McRaven. The SEALs jumped to their feet. “Hey, everybody,” Obama said, with a bright, cheerful tone.

  The president described the raid as one of the greatest military and intelligence operations in American history. He told them how proud he was of them, and awarded SEAL Team 6 the Presidential Unit Citation.

  Then Obama was shown a PowerPoint presentation of the raid, with maps, photos, and a scale model, narrated by members of the assault force. Afterward, Obama looked around the room and made a request. “I want to meet this dog.”

  Chesney was in a separate room with Cairo, waiting to meet the president. The dog was being awarded the citation, too. When Obama walked in, he smiled. “So this is Cairo?” Obama said.

  “Yes, sir,” Chesney replied.

  Obama said kind words about the creature, whom he called an “integral part of the mission.” Both Obama and Biden patted Cairo, and Chesney thought, at that moment, if Cairo could smile, he would have. Chesney could sense the dog was having a good time—but he’d muzzled Cairo, just in case.

  The unit had a gift for Obama as well. Not every SEAL had supported Obama in 2008. Politically, some still weren’t Obama fans. But almost all of them gave the president high marks for having the courage to approve the mission. The president had trusted them to pull off an im
possible operation, and they had rewarded his faith. So now, in the front of the room, they handed him a framed U.S. flag, one they had carried with them on the raid. They had each signed the back of the frame, using their call signs instead of their names. Obama was genuinely touched by the gesture.

  After the meeting, Obama moved on to address the thousands of soldiers at Fort Campbell. Speaking under a giant American flag to the troops of the 101st Airborne Division, Obama drew the connection between the troops there and the commandos he called “America’s quiet professionals.”

  “Like all of us, they could have chosen a life of ease. But like you, they volunteered,” he said.

  Describing the SEAL commandos as “battle hardened” and tirelessly trained, Obama said: “When I gave the order, they were ready. And in recent days, the world has learned just how ready they were.”

  The president also linked the killing of bin Laden to the broader war, saying it showed the progress that the United States had made in disrupting and dismantling Al Qaeda. The soldiers of the 101st Airborne were pushing back insurgents and allowing Afghans to reclaim their towns.

  “The bottom line is this: Our strategy is working. And there is no greater evidence of that than justice finally being delivered to Osama bin Laden.”

  The crowd erupted in cheers.

  That day, at Fort Campbell, O’Neill and Chesney didn’t know what was changing in Afghanistan or America. They didn’t know what their own futures would hold.

  Today, that didn’t matter. They had taken part in a dangerous mission—the kind they had only dreamed about after 9/11. It was the way a kid playing a backyard football game dreams of throwing the winning touchdown pass in the Super Bowl. The future would come. They’d deal with it then. For now, they just enjoyed their moment of glory.