Free No Easy Day: The Firsthand Account of the Mission That Killed Osama Bin Laden by Mark Owen, Kevin Maurer Page B

knew we were in the house. The man must have heard us come in and thought he could hide with the women.
    With the house secure, I led the man to another room to question him. The room’s floor was covered in rugs, and sleeping mats were piled in a heap in the center of the room. A TV on the floor was on, but the screen was just static. Our interpreter stood next to the man as I pulled the hood off. His face was sweaty and his eyes were big as he tried to adjust to the light.
    “Ask him why he had grenades and a chest rack,” I told the interpreter.
    “I’m a guest here,” the man said.
    “Why were you sleeping with the women and children? Guests don’t sleep next to the women.”
    “One of them is my wife,” he said.
    “But I thought you were a guest here,” I said.
    The questioning went on like that for about a half hour. He never got his story straight and the next morning we turned him over to the Marines.
    It was frustrating because missions were like this day after day. It was a catch and release system. We’d roll them up and in a few weeks the fighters would be back on the street. I was confident the fighter we found in the bedroom would be released soon. The only way to permanently take them off the street was if they were dead.
    We found out later from some of the village elders that the men, including the fighter I encountered in the women’s bedroom, were part of an insurgent cell that rotated between the houses of the village. The guy we captured had gone home that night to stay with his family. Three other guys in his cell were killed that same night after a short firefight with my teammates. My teammates got lucky and got the jump on them before the insurgents reacted. Our troop uncovered guns, mines, and explosives for roadside bombs in the house.
    After clearing our initial targets, our troop searched the majority of the houses in the village. In one of the bedrooms, I found a pile of bras in one of the drawers. I fished out a nice white one with lace and a bow at the center. Balling it up, I stuffed it into the cargo pocket in my pants for later.
    Outside, the BOP, BOP, BOP of the Marines’ massive CH-53 helicopters echoed over the village. The sun was coming up as we held security positions in a nearby house. It was freezing. Mornings always seemed to be the coldest part of the day.
    I looked up in time to see what looked like two big gray school buses fly over me, make a ninety-degree turn, and settle into the open desert just north of the power lines. The ramps in the back dropped down and out came the Marines just like you’ve seen in their commercials.
    My troop chief walked past me to coordinate with the Marines so we could turn over the village and go home.
    “You see their HQ?” he said.
    “I think they are down the road,” I said, pointing toward a cluster of men and radio antennas.
    As he passed by, I fished out the bra from earlier that night and discreetly draped it on a radio antenna attached to his back. When it was cold and miserable it is the little things that warm you up. As he passed some of the Marines, I saw them stare at him and laugh.
    “Hey, where is your HQ?” the troop chief asked a nearby Marine.
    He pointed down the road.
    “Hey, sir, you’ve got a bra hanging off your back,” the Marine said.
    “Yeah, I am sure there is,” the troop chief said without hesitation, glancing back in our direction. “Happens all the time.”
    On the patrol back to the landing zone in the desert, I noticed something in my periphery vision blowing in the wind. Reaching back, I pulled on a bra strap.
    Someone had hung a bra on the bolt cutters I had strapped to my back.

    Pranks on the team were a way of life.
    The pranking was so frequent that the squadron eventually built a wire diagram connecting all the suspected culprits. We used this same wire diagram to track terrorists. We had the names of all the guys in a pyramid with the worst prankster on top: Phil, my team leader