The Operator: Firing the Shots that Killed Osama bin Laden and My Years as a SEAL Team Warrior

by Robert O'Neill

The population hit a peak of 100,000 in 1920 and by the time I came along had dipped by about two-thirds. The residential areas mingled with pit mines, and the entire town was built on a plateau next to the biggest pit of all, Berkeley Pit, an immense, defunct, open-pit copper mine a mile wide and a third of a mile deep.

We spent our days in the classroom learning Navy customs and courtesies, getting yelled at and cleaning up and folding—clothes, sheets, flags, anything that bends. Folding is huge in the Navy. Sailors live in tiny quarters so we needed to know how to keep our stuff tight and thin. It’s amazing, the amount of folding we did. I still fold my towels the same way.

This would be my first glimpse of the truth that would be pounded into me in years to come: Preparation is everything.

“When did you go through Hell Week?” “June 6, 1944,” he said. I replied, “There was no BUD/S in 1944,” thinking I was smart. “There was on Omaha Beach, son. Know your heritage.”

Rogue Warrior by Richard Marcinko

And a large part of becoming a SEAL is learning how not to let fear get in the way of accomplishing the mission.

The Rock with Nicolas Cage and Sean Connery.

But I had nothing on the Marine snipers. The sniper course that Naval Special Warfare puts on was designed by a Marine, Gunnery Sergeant Carlos Hathcock, who may have been the most famous sniper in history with ninety-three confirmed kills in Vietnam and probably three times that many that weren’t officially confirmed.

THE NEXT PHASE OF TRAINING, the most famous and the most difficult, is called close quarters battle (or CQB) training.

We need someone who can make life-and-death decisions rapidly and keep moving no matter what.

Ultimately, SEAL commanders are trying to find the people who can realize that all stress is self-induced. Even when bombs are going off and people are trying to kill you. Worrying doesn’t help keep you alive. In fact, it can get you killed. Can you put that bag of bricks down and forget about it, or are you going to let it ruin your day?

Another cool part of training took place in Washington State at the Survival, Evasion, Resistance, Escape school.

shit. Our guys were all cursing. Everybody and their fucking cousin

The troop commander’s name was Rich, and even though he was merely a lieutenant commander, he’d be the highest-ranked SEAL in Iraq. He was one of the best leaders I’ve ever known. His motto, which I’ve stolen from him, is, “Nobody ever worked for me. They worked with me.”

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“Yeah, everything’s good. Hey, Dad, I just wanted to say thanks for everything. Thanks for teaching me how to shoot free throws. Thanks for teaching me how to be a man. It’s nice that we got to know each other as adults.” My dad knew I couldn’t tell him what was up. But he knew something was, and it scared him. Later, I found out that he sat in his truck for twenty minutes after our call, poleaxed by a feeling of dread. “Hey, Dad,” I said. “I’ve got to go to work.” He ended the call with, “I love you.” I told him I loved him, too, then hung up and jogged out to the bus. Jonny had been looking for me. I gave him a thumbs-up. He gave me the finger.

He had a woman in front of him, his hands on her shoulders. In less than a second, I aimed above the woman’s right shoulder and pulled the trigger twice. Bin Laden’s head split open, and he dropped. I put another bullet in his head. Insurance.

One thing I’ve learned since becoming a civilian is that being a Navy SEAL is only part of your life. High school is a part of your life and it’s the most important thing when you’re in it. Then it’s over. For me, for over a decade, being a Navy SEAL was everything. Those hard-as-nails instructors at Coronado and the officers I served under in the years after taught me to meet, and rise above, challenges I wouldn’t have imagined. And my SEAL brothers—they taught me a sense of comradery that I still consider priceless. But to keep growing, we all have to move to the next phase. That’s life.

He looked up at me, a tear running down his cheek and a defiant gleam in his eyes. He said, “You, sir, killed the devil.”

Since the early hours of May 2, 2011, I’ve had many moments when I’ve wondered if being the one who killed Osama bin Laden was the best thing that ever happened to me, or the worst. I’m still trying to figure that out. It’s a difficult position to be in, one that has caused anxiety and sleepless nights. I’m confident, though, that this all happened for a reason. I’m committed to making the most of it.