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Thanks are also due to my mom and dad, David and Holly Luttrell, for so many things, but especially, in this context, for sitting down and relating, chapter and verse, the extraordinary events that took place back at the ranch in the early summer of 2005 while I was missing in action.
Finally, my fellow SEAL and twin brother, Morgan, who came storming into the ranch within hours of the Battle for Murphy’s Ridge, swore to God I was alive, and never stopped encouraging everyone. Devastated by the death of his great friend Matthew Axelson, still too upset to talk about it, he was nonetheless there for me, helping to correct and improve the manuscript...still with me, as he’s always been and I hope always will be.
Just like we say, bro, From the womb to the tomb! And no one’s ever going to change that.
— Marcus Luttrell
I’m sailing through calm harbor waters here. That’s the American flag fluttering over the transom behind my right shoulder. I guess that’s rare. Most people think I wear it on my heart. Photo by Suza
The guy in front is Billy Shelton, the local iron man who battered, trained, and half killed Morgan and me preparing us to be Navy SEALs. I’m with a good buddy, Army Ranger Tommy Richardson, another Shelton protégé. Photo by Master Sergeant Daniel Marshall
That boatload of SEAL students down there must somehow land the boat on these rocks and then drag it up to the beach. It’s easy to identify the instructor — the dry one on the left, yelling his head off. “Too slow! Too clumsy! Too dangerous! Try harder!” U.S. Navy photo by Photographer’s Mate 2nd Class Eric S. Logsdon
Taking the strain: This is a BUD/S training class starting work on the beach with the heavy log — hoisting it, hauling it, ru
This is SEAL training at the peak of its ruthlessness. It’s known as getting wet and sandy. That water is freezing. That instructor is merciless. “You want to quit right now, boy, then go ahead — ring the goddamned bell.” U.S. Navy photo by Photographer’s Mate 2nd Class Eric S. Logsdon
Petty Officer Matthew Axelson in combat gear, ready to face the enemy. He held our left flank on the mountain for two hours, under murderous fire. He was shot twice, both times badly hurt, but he kept fighting. Courtesy of Cindy Axelson
Matthew Axelson with his wife, Cindy. His last words were of home: “Tell Cindy I love her.” Photo by Jarrett D. Broughton
Lieutenant Michael Murphy. If they built a memorial to him as high as the Empire State Building, it would never be high enough for me. Courtesy of Daniel J. Murphy, Esq.
Lieutenant Murphy and his fiancée, Heather Duggan. They had pla
Petty Officer Da
My close friend Da
Up in the mountains or down at sea level, Da
Erik Kristensen was a SEAL down to his fingertips, and he knew real trouble when he heard it. “They need every gun they can get!” he yelled. “Move it, guys! Let’s really move it!” Courtesy of Suza
Lieutenant Commander Erik Kristensen, SEAL Team 10’s commanding officer. He did not have to go, but he dropped everything, picked up his rifle, and raced for the helicopter with the rest of them, answering our desperate cry for help. Courtesy of Suza
Chief Petty Officer Dan Healy, the iron man SEAL strategist who died with his team when the rescue helicopter was hit by a rocket-propelled grenade fired by the Taliban in the Afghan mountains. Courtesy of Navy Fleet Imaging, Pearl Harbor
Shane Patton was replaced at the last moment in the SEAL team’s Operation Redwing. He stood at the door and said good-bye to all of us, wishing us luck. But when we called in for help, Shane was the second man into the rescue helicopter. Less than two hours later, he was dead, killed when it crashed into the mountain. Photo by DCI Photography, Randy Adger
It’s rough, arid ground up here. Often there’s no cover for a watchful Navy SEAL — but we usually get in pretty close if we think the Taliban might be in residence. U.S. Navy photo by PHCM(SW) Terry Cosgrove
U.S. Special Forces move in single file through the snowcapped mountains of northeastern Afghanistan. U.S. Navy photo by Photographer’s Mate 1st Class Tim Turner
The heavily armed Navy SEAL on the left is not me, but it might as well have been. I’ve often stood on a lonely Afghan mountainside staring through those passes, watching for an advancing Taliban convoy. U.S. Navy photo by Photographer’s Mate 1st Class Tim Turner
Thankfully, not all Afghan villagers are hostile to us. Right here a couple of U.S. Special Forces question the locals, and a lot of them are happy to help. U.S. Navy photo by Photographer’s Mate 1st Class Tim Turner
A small section of the crowd that held the vigil at our ranch. At lunchtime there were sometimes three hundred meals served. No one ever really knew where the food came from; it just kept arriving. “God knows, it was just like the loaves and fishes,” according to my mom. Courtesy of Holly Luttrell
Night and day for one week these local people stayed, refusing to leave my mom and dad while everyone thought I was dead. A small group of them got together for this photograph five minutes after SEAL Command called from Coronado to a