Finally, It’s Over

I was at this weekend’s military raid of Osama bin Laden’s hideout. It was a tense situation. It’s stressful to harm someone.

I remember when I was a kid and the school bully Jimmy Harper hit me in the stomach. All the kids in the hallway chanted, “Fight! Fight! Fight!” I felt rage well up inside me. My fist filled with blind anger as I punched Jimmy in the head. He fell down and cried. The kids cheered and lifted me onto their shoulders. But I felt terrible.

So there we were at the front door of bin Laden’s compound. I knocked. The person on the other side of the door said, “Go away!” I said, “I’m selling magazines to pay my way through college.” Bin Laden’s people shot at us through the door. In retrospect, being nice was not a good choice.

We blew up the door and fought our way in. Eventually we found bin Laden. He was taking a shower. It’s awkward running into someone when they’re naked. You’re apologizing, plus you can’t help but look.

Bin Laden dropped his soap, slipped and cracked his head. I checked his pulse and he was dead. We made up a story that he died in a fire fight. Honesty is the best policy unless it brings ridicule.

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