Shortly after 1 a.m. PKT on May 2nd, 2011, Operation Neptune Spear was a go and the founder of al-Qaeda and mastermind behind the September 11th attacks, Osama bin Laden, was killed by SEAL Team Six in a CIA-led and 160th Special Operations Airborne Regiment-assisted mission.
President Obama announced the success to the world at 11:35 p.m. EST on Sunday, May 1st. The world cheered and the expression "tears of joy" doesn't even come close to conveying the magnitude of emotions felt by the entire military community. To post-9/11 troops, this was our equivalent of V-J Day.
No tickertape parades. No randomly grabbing nurses and kissing them. But we did party a lot. (Photo by Lt. Victor Jorgensen)
I was still in the Army at this point and this is my story.
It was 10:35 p.m. CST when we got the news at Fort Campbell, Kentucky. My unit had just returned from Afghanistan two months prior and I was still living off-post in an apartment I shared with my ex-wife. I get a text from my NCO that read, simply, "turn on the news."
Out of context, you always assume the worst. I was wrong. I caught the last part of President Obama's speech but the ticker that ran across the bottom of the screen read, "Osama bin Laden Killed" and I couldn't focus on anything else.
My phone started blowing up saying everyone was basically throwing a party — despite the fact that it was a Sunday night before a 12-mile ruck march. Not a single soldier in that barracks was sober that night. Music was blasting, horns were being honked, everyone was screaming, and the MPs joined in instead of crashing the party.
A few hours later, at PT, the formation reeked of alcohol. Our normally salty first sergeant didn't complain and broke the news to us (as if any of us hadn't yet heard) with a big ol' grin. He was one of the first conventional soldiers to step foot in Afghanistan back in 2001. Almost ten years later and he's barely standing on his feet. Ruck march was cancelled and we were released until work call at 0900.
At the motor pool, no one was actually servicing their vehicles. This was the one day the E-4 Mafia got its way. Everyone just kicked the tires and checked off that it was good to go. No one cared enough to work... except the motor sergeant who, understandably, lost his sh*t (but took it in stride).
I was commo. It's not like we did motor pool maintenance anyways. (Weapons of Meme Destruction)
No one was training back in the company area. We just shared war stories to the new guys that didn't deploy with us, stories we hadn't heard on deployment, and stories we've all heard a million times.
Keeping in line with how we spent our day, joyfully sharing stories with one another, let us know in the comment section about what you were doing on May 2nd, 2011.