Read Online Service: A Navy SEAL at War by Marcus Luttrell - Free Book Online
Authors: Marcus Luttrell
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the dangerous Ma’laab district, it wasn’t much more than a perimeter of concrete walls and concertina wire bundling up a block of residential homes. COP Eagle’s Nest was named in honor of the Army unit that was making its mark in Ramadi: the First Battalion of the 506th Infantry Regiment, 101st Airborne Division. Nicknamed the Currahees, but better known today as the Band of Brothers, these paratroopers had built a great legacy in World War II that included seizing Hitler’s last holdout, the fabled Eagle’s Nest on the German-Austrian border. That legacy meant something to all American servicemen. I think I’ve seen the HBO miniseries
Band of Brothers
at least fifty times. Watching it always fires me up.
That night, Team 3’s snipers were ordered to set up in the urban high ground, in sniper overwatch positions supporting Marines who were stringing razor wire as a barrier to insurgent movement near the southern boundary of the city. It was around three in the morning when the SEALs got into position. Not long after daybreak, one of their hides began taking fire.
Drive-by shooters fired small arms into the roofs and parapets around the Team 3 position. Then an RPG streaked in and exploded against the roof, casting a cloud of dust over the snipers. Faced with harassing fire for most of the next hour, they hunkered down, not worried much by the haphazard shooting. But not long after that, an insurgent managed to sneak in close. Using the urban maze of buildings for cover, he lobbed a single fragmentation grenade at the team.
The grenade arced down and hit a young SEAL named Mike Monsoor in the chest, bouncing to the floor. In the seemingly endless few seconds that it rolled around at his feet, Monsoor—positioned next to a stairway that offered the only exit from the roof—knew he could have made a quick and easy escape. As the frag lay there cooking, Monsoor didn’t hesitate: he jumped on the grenade, smothering it with his body. When it exploded, it threw all of its immense force into him. Mikey took the entire blast and allowed everyone else around him to live.
The SEALs at the other sniper positions were moving to support their brothers at the first report of contact. The gunfire that greeted them was so insistent that the Iraqi troops who were working with them refused to go along. (This was all too typical.) As the SEALs sent a troops-in-contact alert to the tacticaloperations center (TOC) at Camp Marc Lee (prior to August 2, the SEAL compound had been known as Shark Base, but the boys from Team 3 had honorably renamed it in memory of our fallen brother), and a man-down call as well, they requested vehicles to evacuate their casualty. Meanwhile, the guys from the other sniper element raced toward them through the gunfire. They arrived within minutes.
Securing the perimeter, they provided overwatch and covering fire for two Bradleys dispatched from COP Eagle’s Nest. As the vehicles took Mikey away, no one failed to understand what he had just done—and that the price he paid was the ultimate one. By the time the casevac vehicle reached the base hospital at Camp Ramadi, that twenty-five-year-old frogman, that hero, was already gone.
Never forget.
Mikey was a great kid and a solid operator, a guy everybody liked. He was a hard worker, young, just starting his career. His example reveals why certain guys make it into the SEAL teams and others don’t. I think the guys who make it are the ones who are willing to give their lives for their teammates. It’s not all about muscle, stamina, or brains. It’s about heart. You can’t train a person to react as he did to danger. It comes from your heart, because it all boils down to love of your teammates and the commitment you’ve made to protect the freedoms of your country. There are no questions to ask—you act because you could not do otherwise, because you know your teammate would do the same for you, because this is all about more than one man. What is
Band of Brothers
at least fifty times. Watching it always fires me up.
That night, Team 3’s snipers were ordered to set up in the urban high ground, in sniper overwatch positions supporting Marines who were stringing razor wire as a barrier to insurgent movement near the southern boundary of the city. It was around three in the morning when the SEALs got into position. Not long after daybreak, one of their hides began taking fire.
Drive-by shooters fired small arms into the roofs and parapets around the Team 3 position. Then an RPG streaked in and exploded against the roof, casting a cloud of dust over the snipers. Faced with harassing fire for most of the next hour, they hunkered down, not worried much by the haphazard shooting. But not long after that, an insurgent managed to sneak in close. Using the urban maze of buildings for cover, he lobbed a single fragmentation grenade at the team.
The grenade arced down and hit a young SEAL named Mike Monsoor in the chest, bouncing to the floor. In the seemingly endless few seconds that it rolled around at his feet, Monsoor—positioned next to a stairway that offered the only exit from the roof—knew he could have made a quick and easy escape. As the frag lay there cooking, Monsoor didn’t hesitate: he jumped on the grenade, smothering it with his body. When it exploded, it threw all of its immense force into him. Mikey took the entire blast and allowed everyone else around him to live.
The SEALs at the other sniper positions were moving to support their brothers at the first report of contact. The gunfire that greeted them was so insistent that the Iraqi troops who were working with them refused to go along. (This was all too typical.) As the SEALs sent a troops-in-contact alert to the tacticaloperations center (TOC) at Camp Marc Lee (prior to August 2, the SEAL compound had been known as Shark Base, but the boys from Team 3 had honorably renamed it in memory of our fallen brother), and a man-down call as well, they requested vehicles to evacuate their casualty. Meanwhile, the guys from the other sniper element raced toward them through the gunfire. They arrived within minutes.
Securing the perimeter, they provided overwatch and covering fire for two Bradleys dispatched from COP Eagle’s Nest. As the vehicles took Mikey away, no one failed to understand what he had just done—and that the price he paid was the ultimate one. By the time the casevac vehicle reached the base hospital at Camp Ramadi, that twenty-five-year-old frogman, that hero, was already gone.
Never forget.
Mikey was a great kid and a solid operator, a guy everybody liked. He was a hard worker, young, just starting his career. His example reveals why certain guys make it into the SEAL teams and others don’t. I think the guys who make it are the ones who are willing to give their lives for their teammates. It’s not all about muscle, stamina, or brains. It’s about heart. You can’t train a person to react as he did to danger. It comes from your heart, because it all boils down to love of your teammates and the commitment you’ve made to protect the freedoms of your country. There are no questions to ask—you act because you could not do otherwise, because you know your teammate would do the same for you, because this is all about more than one man. What is
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