Read Online No Easy Day: The Firsthand Account of the Mission That Killed Osama Bin Laden by Mark Owen, Kevin Maurer - Free Book Online

Bradleys and the fire, we still heard yelling followed by bursts of enemy fire. Tactically, it didn’t make sense to assault up the stairs.
    “They’re going to blow the building,” Jon said.
    Jon decided to pull us off the roof rather than expose us to the blast. We joined the others on the ground. I watched as a small breach team, led by one of Delta’s Explosive Ordnance Disposal guys, ran into the first floor to set a thermobaric charge. The charge produces a huge shock wave capable of collapsing an entire building.
    A few minutes later, the charge was set and the breach team ran back and took cover next to me. Hunkered behind the Pandur, I could hear him counting down. I waited for the explosion.
    Nothing.
    Everybody stared at the EOD tech. We all had the same confused look on our faces. I saw Jon walk toward him.
    “What the hell?” Jon said.
    “The time must have been wrong,” I heard him mumble.
    I am sure his mind was running a million miles an hour. He was trying to figure out why the charge didn’t blow.
    “Did you dual prime?” Jon asked.
    Everybody was trained to dual prime explosives, which meant attaching two detonators to the charge in case one fails. The rule of thumb was simple: One is none. Two is one.
    But that didn’t help us now. We had to make a decision. Do we send more guys back into the house to reset the charge, or do we wait it out and see what happens? We had no idea if the insurgents moved downstairs and were now waiting for the assaulters to return, or if the EOD set the wrong time and it would go off unexpectedly with men inside.
    Finally, they decided to send the EOD tech back inside to attach a new detonator. Again, the breach team ran back inside. We continued to cover the house, and minutes later the breach team was back behind the Pandur.
    “You think it is going to go this time?” Jon asked with a smirk.
    “Yeah, I am pretty positive,” the EOD tech said. “Dual primed it.”
    On time, the charge exploded and the house crumbled onto itself, sending out a massive cloud covering us in thin, talc-like dust. I watched the cloud rise into the sky and hang in the muggy morning air. By now, the sun was starting to come up.
    We moved in to sift through the rubble looking for bodies and weapons. There were at least six dead fighters. Most of the bodies were up on the second floor. Their faces were covered in soot. Jon noticed the sandbags near some of the bodies.
    “Hey, look at this. They had the whole second floor barricaded,” he said. “We’re lucky the pilots made a mistake. It probably saved our lives.”
    “Why?” I asked.
    “If we’d actually landed on the right building,” Jon said, “the four of us would have assaulted into a barricaded position on the second floor. We might have had surprise on our side, but the odds wouldn’t have looked good once we made entry. Without a doubt in my mind, we would have taken more casualties.”
    I was quiet. I looked up to Jon and here he was saying we were lucky. A mistake had probably saved our lives. It was nothing but a bit of random luck.

    After clearing the rubble, the ride back to the base in the Pandurs was quiet. We were hungry and tired. All of our faces were covered in soot. Usually there was more smack talking and excitement after taking down such a dynamic target. I let what happened start creeping into my mind.
    As we rode, Jon’s words kept echoing in my head. Had the mission gone perfectly, we would have landed the Little Bird on the roof and entered the door on the second floor, only to come face-to-face with at least four heavily armed insurgents. A four-on-four gunfight with automatic weapons in a room no bigger than a bedroom never ends well.
    By the time we parked back at our base, I had finished my mental gymnastics. I simply blocked out what could have happened and moved on to what I learned: Sometimes something random can save your life. And always dual prime a charge.
    At the end of the