The GRS piled into two unarmored vehicles—the "War Wagon" (a battered Toyota pickup with a DShK heavy machine gun welded to the bed) and a Chevrolet Suburban. As they tore out of the Annex gates, the night erupted. Gunfire ricocheted off the asphalt. The smell of cordite and burning trash filled the cabin.
"We can’t get to him!" Wickland coughed, blood on his lips. "The smoke… the fire…" HD13 Hours- The Secret Soldiers of Benghazi
In the weeks and months that followed, the story of Benghazi was twisted into political theater. Hearings, investigations, and accusations flew across cable news. But no committee ever called the GRS to testify about their courage. They were secret soldiers—off the books, invisible to the Pentagon, ineligible for the Purple Hearts they had earned in blood. The GRS piled into two unarmored vehicles—the "War
For the next two hours, the Annex became a bullet-strewn hellscape. RPGs streaked overhead, leaving trails of white smoke. Small-arms fire crackled non-stop. Oz Geist took a round to the leg that spun him around; he stuffed a QuickClot bandage into the wound and kept shooting. Tig Tiegen’s rifle jammed; he transitioned to his sidearm and fought through the malfunction. The smell of cordite and burning trash filled the cabin
Seven Americans had survived only because a handful of former special operators refused to abandon them.