Hostage Rescue Quotes

When I see a word held hostage to manhood I have to rescue it. Sweet trembling word, locked in a tower, tired of your Prince coming and coming.

It seems amazing that the Navy SEALs managed to get inside the compound and shoot Osama so efficiently. I can only imagine they were told that the mission was to rescue a bearded British hostage and he must be brought out alive.

Whether people need nature or not, it was clear that nature needed people. But perhaps nature needs us like a hostage needs her captors: nature needs us not to annihilate her, not to run her over, not to cover her with cement, not to chop her down. We can hardly admire ourselves, then, when we stop to accommodate nature's needs: we are dubious heroes who create peril and then save it's victims, we who rescue the animals and the trees from ourselves.

A victim act is a form of passive aggression. It seeks to achieve gratification not by honest work or a contribution made out of one's experience or insight or love, but by the manipulation of others through silent (and not-so-silent) threat. The victim compels others to come to his rescue or to behave as he wishes by holding them hostage to the prospect of his own further illness/meltdown/mental dissolution, or simply by threatening to make their lives so miserable that they do what he wants.

we're going balls to the wall, guys. Our sneak-and-peak just turned into a hostage rescue.

In 1973, Jan Erik Olsson walked into a small bank in Stockholm, Sweden, brandishing a gun, wounding a police officer, and taking three women and one man hostage. During negotiations, Olsson demanded money, a getaway vehicle, and that his friend Clark Olofsson, a man with a long criminal history, be brought to the bank. The police allowed Olofsson to join his friend and together they held the four hostages captive in a bank vault for six days. During their captivity, the hostages at times were attached to snare traps around their necks, likely to kill them in the event that the police attempted to storm the bank. The hostages grew increasingly afraid and hostile toward the authorities trying to win their release and even actively resisted various rescue attempts. Afterward they refused to testify against their captors, and several continued to stay in contact with the hostage takers, who were sent to prison. Their resistance to outside help and their loyalty toward their captors was puzzling, and psychologists began to study the phenomenon in this and other hostage situations. The expression of positive feelings toward the captor and negative feelings toward those on the outside trying to win their release became known as Stockholm syndrome.

I’m kidnapping you,” my Suh-mer announces. “I already got the chief’s permission and everything. I’m going to kidnap you and hold you hostage in the cabin here for the next few days and have my wicked, wicked way with you.” She smiles up at me and wriggles her eyebrows.

No, you lost because you weren’t paying attention to your surroundings.” Axel’s words cut to the truth. “You knew, at some point, you would be tested. Your goal isn’t to grapple with us, but to avoid having to do so in the first place. The best fighter is the one who avoids the fight in the first place.

Assault isn’t just for criminals. Elite military teams, hostage rescue, SWAT, and entry teams use this mindset as much as criminals do. They don’t want to be tested or find out what their limitations are, they want to get the job done and go home. The mindset is implacable and predatory. They use surprise, superior numbers, and superior weapons—every cheat they can, and they practice. On the rare, rare occasions when my team made a fast entry and someone actually fought, the only emotion that I registered was that I was offended that they resisted, and we rolled right over the threat(s) like a force of nature.

Ryan was complex—he was big-hearted and caring but also resolute and direct. He once e-mailed me an audio clip of a television news interview he gave after a group of Navy SEALs rescued the captain of the Maersk Alabama tanker ship. Pirates had taken the ship and the captain hostage off the coast of Somalia, Africa. The story was later made into the film Captain Phillips, starring Tom Hanks. A team of Navy SEAL snipers shot and killed all but one of the hostage takers, who had placed themselves and their hostage in a desperate situation. Ryan told the TV reporter, “Despite what your momma told you, violence does solve problems.”1 I understood exactly what Ryan meant—there was no diplomatic or political solution to the crisis, and allowing pirates to take American vessels and crews hostage would set a bad precedent in other parts of the globe. Weeks before, in fact, the pirates had killed other hostages. Ryan’s statement was in no way meant to be bravado; he was merely conveying the fact that many times violence brings about a successful conclusion to a hostage crisis. The SEALs spoke the only language that the Somali pirates understood: violence. Apparently, the SEALs’ response acted as a deterrent, since the Somali pirates have consequently stayed clear of US flagged vessels. Chris Kyle later turned Ryan’s statement into a patch he wore on his hat.

I got your flowers. They’re beautiful, thank you.” A gorgeous riot of Gerber daisies and lilies in a rainbow of reds, pinks, yellows and oranges. “Welcome. Bet Duncan loved sending one of his guys out to pick them up for me.” She could hear the smile in his voice, imagined the devilish twinkle in his eyes. “Oh, he did. Said it’s probably the first time in the history of WITSEC that a U.S. Marshal delivered flowers to one of their witnesses.” A low chuckle. “Well, this was a special circumstance, so they helped me out.” “I loved the card you sent with them the best though.” Proud of you. Give ‘em hell tomorrow. He’d signed it Nathan rather than Nate, which had made her smile. “I had no idea you were romantic,” she continued. “All these interesting things I’m learning about you.” She hadn’t been able to wipe the silly smile off her face after one of the security team members had knocked on her door and handed them to her with a goofy smile and a, “special delivery”. “Baby, you haven’t seen anything yet. When the trial’s done you’re gonna get all the romance you can handle, and then some.” “Really?” Now that was something for a girl to look forward to, and it sure as hell did the trick in taking her mind off her worries. “Well I’m all intrigued, because it’s been forever since I was romanced. What do you have in mind? Candlelit dinners? Going to the movies? Long walks? Lazy afternoon picnics?” “Not gonna give away my hand this early on, but I’ll take those into consideration.” “And what’s the key to your heart, by the way? I mean, other than the thing I did to you this morning.” “What thing is that? Refresh my memory,” he said, a teasing note in his voice. She smiled, enjoying the light banter. It felt good to let her worry about tomorrow go and focus on what she had to look forward to when this was all done. Being with him again, seeing her family, getting back to her life. A life that would hopefully include Nathan in a romantic capacity. “Waking you up with my mouth.” He gave a low groan. “I loved every second of it. But think simpler.” Simpler than sex? For a guy like him? “Food, then. I bet you’re a sucker for a home-cooked meal. Am I right?” He chuckled. “That works too, but it’s still not the key.” “Then what?” “You.” She blinked, her heart squeezing at the conviction behind his answer. “Me?” “Yeah, just you. And maybe bacon,” he added, a smile in his voice. He was so freaking adorable. “So you’re saying if I made and served you a BLT, you’d be putty in my hands?” Seemed hard to imagine, but okay. A masculine rumble filled her ears. “God, yeah.” She couldn’t help the sappy smile that spread across her face. “Wow, you are easy. And I can definitely arrange that.” “I can hardly wait. Will you serve it to me naked? Or maybe wearing just a frilly little apron and heels?” She smothered a laugh, but a clear image of her doing just that popped into her head, serving him the sandwich in that sexy outfit while watching his eyes go all heated. “Depends on how good you are.” “Oh, baby, I’ll be so good to you, you have no idea.

We're going balls to the walls, guys. Our sneak and peak just turned inti a hostage rescue.

We're going balls to the wall, guys. Our sneak-and-peak just turned into a hostage rescue

In the past, the Israelis complained that the Palestinians were so fragmented that no faction could deliver on any peace deal. Now Abbas had a controlling position. Washington and Brussels backed him. Everything was in place for a package to bring Gaza back under the control of Abbas, to disarm Hamas, to reopen crossing points to Egypt and Israel, monitored by EU observers, and to pour millions of dollars into Gaza's reconstruction as a precursor to a viable Palestinian state. But instead of welcoming this sign of growing moderation, the Israeli Prime Minister, Benjamin Netanyahu, resorted to his old tactic of divide and rule. In June, three Israeli teenagers vanished in the West Bank. Netanyahu ordered a "hostage rescue operation", despite intelligence that the youths were already dead, which escalated into the onslaught against Hamas.

The rescue of the hostages, so far away from home, is about to become legend. But it has exacted a price: three of the hostages have died in the firefight. As has one soldier, Lieutenant-Colonel Yoni Netanyahu, brother of future Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu.

Frozen fright develops as the hostage comes out of shock and begins to perceive the reality of the situation. In frozen fright, hostages are effectively paralyzed, enabling them to focus their cognitive and motor functions solely on survival, with concentration centered on the terrorist. In this state the hostage responds to the captor with cooperative, friendly behavior. As this state continues and the hostages are still not rescued, they will feel overwhelmed and develop traumatic psychological infantilism wherein they respond to the captor with appeasement, submission, ingratiation, cooperation, and empathy. As captivity continues and the hostages are still alive, they will begin to perceive the captor as giving their lives back to them. At this point a hostage develops a pathological transference to the terrorist, wherein the terrorist is seen as the "good guy" and authorities, police, and family, because they have not gotten the hostage out of the situation, are seen as the "bad guys". This transference will persist long after hostages are released because they fear that any expression of negativity toward the captors may invite retaliation.

THE HOSTAGE RESCUE TEAM arrived at Tamiami Airport in Florida

only a matter of time before you wind up dead. Given what and who

Since you’re obviously in need of something to do, instead of shouting at me through this whole drill, isn’t there some tree you could fell with your bare hands, or a boulder somewhere that needs tossing?

By 2003, I found myself in combat in Iraq and Afghanistan. Now that I was a one-star admiral leading troops in a war zone, every decision I made had its consequences. Over the next several years, I stumbled often. But, for every failure, for every mistake, there were hundreds of successes: hostages rescued, suicide bombers stopped, pirates captured, terrorists killed, and countless lives saved. I realized that the past failures had strengthened me, taught me that no one is immune from mistakes. True leaders must learn from their failures, use the lessons to motivate themselves, and not be afraid to try again or make the next tough decision. You can’t avoid The Circus. At some point we all make the list. Don’t be afraid of The Circus.

Begin then made the inevitable–if inaccurate–analogy between the German-sanctioned selektzia at Entebbe and the more infamous actions of Dr Mengele at Auschwitz when a finger to the right had condemned Jewish men, women and children to death. Then there had been ‘no one to save them’; now there was. ‘Now,’ he said, his voice rising for emphasis, ‘we declare for all to hear: Never again! Our generation has taken a solemn oath consecrated in the blood of our slain mothers, our butchered fathers, our asphyxiated babes, and our fallen brave–never again will the blood of the Jew be shed with impunity. Never again will Jewish honour be easy prey.’ The world should know, he added, that if ‘anyone anywhere’ is ‘persecuted, or humiliated, or threatened, or abducted, or is in any way endangered simply because he or she is a

for every failure, for every mistake, there were hundreds of successes: hostages rescued, suicide bombers stopped, pirates captured, terrorists killed, and countless lives saved. I realized that the past failures had strengthened me, taught me that no one is immune from mistakes. True leaders must learn from their failures, use the lessons to motivate themselves, and not be afraid to try again or make the next tough decision.

In Walked Jim September 2013: Entering his first morning staff meeting as FBI director, Jim Comey loped to the head of the table, put down his briefing books, and lowered his six-foot-eight-inch, shirtsleeved self into a huge leather chair. He leaned the chair so far back on its hind legs that he lay practically flat, testing gravity. Then he sat up, stretched like a big cat, pushed the briefing books to the side, and said, as if he were talking to a friend, I don’t want to talk about these today. I’d rather talk about some other things first. He talked about how effective leaders immediately make their expectations clear and proceeded to do just that for us. Said he would expect us to love our jobs, expect us to take care of ourselves … I remember less of what he said than the easygoing way he spoke and the absolute clarity of his day-one priority: building relationships with each member of his senior team. Comey continually reminded the FBI leadership that strong relationships with one another were critical to the institution’s functioning. One day, after we reviewed the briefing books, he said, Okay, now I want to go around the room, and I want you all to say one thing about yourselves that no one else here knows about you. One hard-ass from the criminal division stunned the room to silence when he said, My wife and I, we really love Disney characters, and all our vacation time we spend in the Magic Kingdom. Another guy, formerly a member of the hostage-rescue team, who carefully tended his persona as a dead-eyed meathead—I thought his aesthetic tastes ran the gamut from YouTube videos of snipers in Afghanistan to YouTube videos of Bigfoot sightings—turned out to be an art lover. I really like the old masters, he said, but my favorite is abstract expressionism. This hokey parlor game had the effect Comey intended. It gave people an opportunity to be interesting and funny with colleagues in a way that most had rarely been before. Years later, I remember it like yesterday. That was Jim’s effect on almost everyone he worked with. I observed how he treated people. Tell me your story, he would say, then listen as if there were only the two of you in the whole world. You were, of course, being carefully assessed at the same time that you were being appreciated and accepted. He once told me that people’s responses to that opening helped him gauge their ability to communicate. Over the next few years I would sit in on hundreds of meetings with him. All kinds of individuals and organizations would come to Comey with their issues. No matter how hostile they were when they walked in the door, they would always walk out on a cloud of Comey goodness. Sometimes, after the door had closed, he would look at me and say, That was a mess. Jim has the same judgmental impulse that everyone has. He is complicated, with many different sides, and he is so good at showing his best side—which is better than most people’s—that his bad side, which is not as bad as most people’s, can seem more shocking on the rare moments when it flashes to the surface.

You’re the man who used to rescue hostages for a living. You are not allowed to not get out of this one. So stop worrying about me and start paying attention to what you are doing. Are you listening to me, Miles Vorkosigan? Don’t you dare die! I won’t have it!” That seemed definitive. Despite everything, he grinned. “Yes, dear,” he sang back meekly, heartened.

Maria

In their conclusion, the authors of the report bluntly summed it up: “The decision to retake the prison was not a quixotic effort to rescue the hostages in the midst of 1,200 inmates; it was a decisive reassertion of the state of its sovereignty and power.”71

A corrupt media corrupts the integrity of elections, and the constant flow of negative stories from journalists out to get Trump undermined public faith in their ability to report basic facts. They could hardly cover daily stories of little importance without denigrating the president. how could they be expected to stand as neutral arbiters of a contested election? The media lied about Trump's successes, made up damaging stories, and worked with anonymous sources to publish fake stories for four years...Corporate media hid or downplayed the Trump administration's accomplishments, such as historic peace agreements in the Middle East, no new wars, hostage rescues, the repositioning of the country to take on China, bolstering U.S. energy production so that the country was less reliant on foreign adversaries, and the strengthening of NATO by directing countries to fund more of their own defense. The pre-COVID wage and job growth was creating what Trump called a 'blue-collar boom,' which was a boon to all ethnic groups, but it was downplayed in favor of liberals' alleging Trump was racist.

Be A Doer. Commit and follow through. If you try, you've already given yourself permission to fail. be the force of change. trying is lying to yourself.

The one big exception was a hostage rescue mission, where safety was sacrificed for speed in the name of protecting the hostage.

a demand was made of the United States to return the Shah. When it didn’t happen, followers of Khomeini stormed the United States Embassy and took hostages. The United States President, Jimmy Carter, blustered that the country wouldn’t yield to blackmail, but when he attempted to send in a rescue operation, the mission failed, ending in the deaths of eight Americans and the destruction of two helicopters. The whole episode made the United States look weak. Gregory Evans’ plans were right on track until Iraq’s leader, Saddam Hussein, decided to invade Iran for no apparent reason, then the Shah died, and Algeria offered to be the mediator between the Iranians and the Americans. The hostages were released after being held for four hundred and forty-four days and the new American President, Ronald Reagan, got all the credit for it; which irritated Gregory, because he didn’t think the American people would’ve voted for him if Carter hadn’t been such a nincompoop. Gregory decided he would have to eventually start interfering in American elections so he could get the result he desired.

Taya clung that way to him now, as though he was the only thing keeping her from drowning. Then her shoulders jerked and she gave a ragged gasp against his neck. Nate pressed his cheek to her temple. Ah, baby, don’t… His first impulse was to pull out and quiet her, to tell her shhh, don’t cry, everything’s okay. But clearly everything wasn’t okay and when he tried to ease back she shook her head. Nate closed his eyes. She’d held him in silence the other night, acknowledged and accepted his pain. He’d give her the same now, while they were connected as intimately as two people could be. The most intense connection he’d ever experienced in his life. Slipping his arms beneath her, he banded them tight around her back and rested his full weight against her, being her anchor, giving her a safe place to hide while the storm of emotion rolled through her. She battled it like the little warrior he called her and held on, forcing back the sobs until she calmed enough to take several slow, deep breaths, her face remaining tight to his neck. He was still hard inside her, as deep and close as he could possibly get. A fierce yet tender protectiveness flooded him. Gradually she calmed, the desperate edge to her hold easing.

I can hear you crying I can sense your fear And not much longer now baby doll I am getting near.

said Yitzhak Rabin, addressing the first full meeting of the Israeli Cabinet since the crisis had begun on Sunday, ‘I want to say that any information that leaks out today can end up costing lives. So I ask you not to behave normally regarding this issue.’ In other words, speak to no one. An hour and a half earlier he had met with Yitzhak Navon, the chairman of the Knesset Foreign Affairs

Guys said you did good today.” He made a face. He’d done his job, nothing more. God knew he’d have taken on any threat to protect Taya. “Wish I’d been able to get more out of the bastard before he went to his seventy-two virgin dating service in the sky.

I’m falling in love with you, Nathan.” At her words he groaned and wrapped both arms around her, holding her to his heart. "Sweetheart, I’m right there with you. And I swear I’ll catch you if you’ll trust me enough to let yourself fall the rest of the way.” She smiled, kissed the center of his chest where his heart beat strong and steady beneath her lips. “I do trust you.” He’d earned her trust in giving him her heart, as well her body.

It’s complicated, and I won’t pretend that part of me still feels betrayed by what he did. But once I got home, after a while it dawned on me that I had a choice to make if I wanted to move on with my life. Just because our pasts are part of us, it doesn’t mean they have to define us. I refused to give my past that kind of power over me. So I chose to let it go.” “How could you let that go?” he asked, his tone and expression incredulous. “How could you let that go after what he did to you? What they did to you?” “Forgiveness,” she answered. She knew it sounded overly simplistic and probably cheesy, but that’s exactly what had helped her break from the past. “Hassan saw himself as a patriot, first and foremost. He did what he had to in order to accomplish his mission, and did what he could to protect me at the same time. It’s why he married me, so I was off limits to the others.” She was thankful for that too, in hindsight. The alternative was beyond bearing. “He risked everything to get me out of that hellish situation, and wound up paying for my freedom with his life.” Taya paused to pull in a slow breath. “I’ve forgiven him for the rest of it. I had to, to be able to go on. But I didn’t forgive him for his sake. I forgave him for mine.” She needed Nathan to understand the difference. “Forgiveness was what earned me my true freedom.” He was quiet a moment. “Well then, you’re a better person than me,” he said in a low voice, his eyes burning with emotion.

Thanks for calling. Be safe and I can’t wait to see you.” “Hang tight, sweetheart. I’ll be with you in spirit tomorrow and watching over you from close by.” Her throat tightened. His words gave her additional strength to take into the courtroom with her.

Would he still want her as much by then? What if their connection was this intense because of the current circumstances, and it faded while they were apart? Would he move on without her? Go back to the lineup of available women he had to choose from? Absence made the heart grow fonder. But it could also make it wander. She’d been on the receiving end of that one once already. She didn’t want to go through that again with Nathan.

Then her brain caught up with her body and a trickle of uncertainty slid through her. She stilled, heart pounding, body aching with the most intense desire she’d ever known. Nathan stopped and raised his head to look down at her, his hand still cupping her breast. He was breathing as hard as she was, his eyes glittering with a hunger so raw it sliced her inside. When she didn’t say anything he started to remove his hand but she tightened her grip and held him there as she gazed into his eyes. “I can’t be just another notch on your belt, Nathan,” she whispered in an agonized voice. Not with him, it would crush her. If that’s all she was to him, she would rather stop things here than continue. She’d already battled long and hard to overcome feeling cheap and used. She wouldn’t do it again for any man, not even Nathan. The anguished look on his face made her feel terrible for saying it, but she’d had to make it clear. “No,” he insisted, leaning down to rest his forehead against hers and closing his eyes. She could feel the urgency in him, the way it strung his muscles tight, the fingers in her hair sliding open to cradle the back of her skull. The protective, possessive gesture made her melt and lean into his hold. “No, you’re not, I swear to God you’re not.

No one’s ever going to hurt you again, Taya. Not on my watch.” There was no defense in the world that could protect her heart from him when he said things like that. Angling her head up, she cupped the back of his head and lifted up to give him a soft, lingering kiss. Just being near him made her feel safe, stronger. He reminded her of how hard she’d fought to live, how hard she’d battled to take back control over her life. “You’re making it really hard for me not to fall for you,” she murmured against his lips. One side of his mouth kicked up as he lifted his head, his eyes glowing with a possessive light that thrilled her. “Good,” was all he said.

A quiet peacefulness stole through him, dimming the sharp sense of loss. His arms contracted around her, the pressure fierce. “I’m coming to find you once the trial’s over,” he murmured against the top of her head. She kissed his chest. “You’d better.” “We’re not done,” he told her. “Not by a long shot.” She hummed in agreement and caressed his chest with her fingertips. Nate stroked the length of her spine, savoring the silky texture of her skin. He missed her already and she was still lying naked in his arms. “Just a few more days and this’ll all be over.” “Don’t make me wait too long, okay?” “I won’t.” He leaned his head back, tipped her chin up with one hand until she met his eyes. If there was even a tiny part of her that doubted his intentions, he wanted that cleared up now. “I’ve never felt like this about anyone before.” Her eyes softened and she smiled that serene smile that soothed him deep inside. “Me neither.” He could drown in this woman and die a happy man. He admired her so damn much. “You’re strong, baby. So much stronger than you even realize. You’ve got this.” “Have I got you, though?” Normally the question would have freaked him out. Hearing it from her made him feel insanely possessive. “Yeah, you’ve got me, baby.” He was falling so hard and so fast, and it didn’t even faze him. “Then I can handle everything else on my own,” she whispered, and pulled his mouth down to hers.

Releasing a slow breath, she raised her chin and finally turned her gaze on Qureshi. The moment their gazes connected she felt a surge of power go through her. Throughout her nine hellish months of captivity, she’d been forbidden to look him in the eye. She’d known better than to even try, because she’d known what would happen to her if she did. But they weren’t in Afghanistan anymore and he was no longer the one calling the shots. She held the authority now. Her life, her opinions, had value here. And her voice, silenced for so long, would now speak for all the victims unable to. Her voice would not only be heard here in this courtroom—it would be his undoing. Qureshi stared back at her with an insolent, almost bored disdain on his scratched face, making it clear what he thought of her. To him she was nothing but an infidel whore, a commodity less valuable than a goat or mule, to be bought and sold whenever it suited him, handed out to one of his soldiers as a prize of war. Well this infidel whore is about to bury you, you son of a bitch. Holding that cold, hateful gaze in the taut, hushed silence that filled the courtroom, she sent him another silent message. Let him see it in her eyes. You didn’t break me. I’m no longer afraid of you. You no longer have the power to hurt me or anyone I care about. And by God, I’ll make sure you never have the chance to hurt anyone else again.

Jon Stone looked like a demented surfer with his spiky, bleached hair and pierced ear, but I knew his background with Delta. Sometimes you forget what that means. Most people think Delta, they’re thinking of Rambo, with the big gun and even bigger muscles. D-boys are deadly warriors, for sure, but you won’t find many who look like Rambo. This is because you can’t rescue hostages or snatch high-value targets from hostile villages unless you find them, so D-boys are also selected to gather intelligence. They are off-the-charts smart, look ordinary, and are trained to blend in anywhere with anyone. This is why D-boys are called operators. Jon Stone had worked the two drunk ex-ROK gangsters for no other reason than gathering intelligence was in his nature. As

McRaven’s thesis, which would become part of the curriculum at the Naval Postgraduate School, set out the core concept of special ops: that a small, well-trained force can deliver a decisive blow against a much larger, well-defended one. He defined such a mission as one “conducted by forces specially trained, equipped, and supported for a specific target whose destruction, elimination, or rescue (in the case of hostages), is a political or military imperative.” Refining the key elements to success for such missions, he prescribed, in a nutshell, “A simple plan, carefully concealed, repeatedly and realistically rehearsed, and executed with surprise, speed, and purpose.

She knew he was as attracted to her as she was to him, yet he wouldn’t go there. Not even once they’d stopped

She was only a couple years older than him, maybe thirty-three or thirty-four, but she had this way of making him feel dumb and confused all at the same time, and without any effort on her part. Maybe because she had a law

She did know Tuck cared, however.

as badass as they came. Why the hell wouldn’t he just tell her whether he was interested or not,

He looked up, expecting to see a couple of EMTs bearing down on him with a stretcher, but his heart stuttered when the crowd shifted and Celida appeared. She stopped dead when she saw him, both hands flying up to cover her mouth and nose. Then she dropped her hands and raced toward him, dark ponytail streaming behind her. He watched her face crumple a second before she reached him and a different kind of pain lit up in his chest. Beat up as he was, there was no way he couldn’t reach for her. He held out his

Celida stood on the top step next to the door with Evers and his girlfriend Rachel. Bauer, three days post-op after his spinal surgery, was there too, talking to Zoe. The rest of his teammates were inside already, along with DeLuca and Travers. It meant the world to him that the guys had come out to pay their respects today.

But Celida’s presence meant more to him than anything.

Xang Xu, the name read beneath his picture. Wanted for computer fraud and various other cyber crimes. By the freaking FBI and god

Jake stayed right next to her, his hold at once protective and possessive. There was no doubt in her mind that she loved this man. “How did you get it?” She didn’t

She gasped and jerked in her seat as a sudden hot, searing pain tore across the top of her right hipbone, the impact of the bullet throwing her off balance.

A couple of them even knew he was hung up on her. Namely Evers and Bauer.

Closure

The sight of them in chains soothed her, but didn’t take the

When Zoe didn’t answer he glanced over to find her watching him with an almost pitying expression. He shot her a scowl. Obviously she didn’t realize that SEALs didn’t deal well with pity.

The confusion part was compounded when he found himself looking at her without meaning to, or watching her for longer than was considered polite. She’d caught him doing it a few times too, but had never called him on it. Which was good. She wasn’t his type, not even close, and checking her out made him feel creepy considering she was like Tuck’s little sister rather

The job was demanding and exhausting, but none of them would have had it any other way. Just like with the SEAL Teams it was an honor and a privilege to make, let alone to serve on, the HRT.

while he filled her in on the investigation over the phone via her car’s hands free device.

coming back on base always felt a little bit like coming home

Jon had spent most of his career gathering intelligence, providing security, rescuing hostages, and, one way or another, in direct, boots-on-the-ground combat with individuals identified as terrorists by the United Nations, the United States government, and the civilized world. This being Nigeria, Jon knew the people responsible for the bombing would be members of Boko Haram, an Islamist militant group with ties to al-Qaeda, or a Boko Haram splinter group known as Ansaru. Both were big on suicide bombings, and often employed women and children as their designated suicides. Neither group had claimed responsibility, but Jon knew this meant little. So many dipshits with ties to al-Qaeda were running around that part of the world, you couldn’t keep track with a scorecard. The shot caller who ordered the bombing would probably never be known, and was likely already dead. More’s

How is Single-Person CQB Different? Single-person CQB tactics are different from tactics developed for teams and multiple teams. The reason for this is the increased risk associated with operating alone. Even if you are very experienced in team-level operations, it may still take time for you to master the specific skills and movements needed for single-person operations. Team-level CQB is generally divided into “immediate entry” and “delayed entry” tactics. Immediate entry methods call for offensive, aggressive movement and were developed by elite military special operations forces for hostage rescue situations. Delayed entry tactics are more common in the law enforcement community and are designed to minimize your exposure and maximize the benefits of cover and concealment. For single-person operations, delayed entry is generally a safer option than immediate entry. If you have a team behind you, it is possible to aggressively rush through a door to dominate a room. However, if you are operating alone with no support, it is dangerous to rush into a fight when the odds might not be in your favor. By employing delayed entry tactics you clear as much of a room or hallway as possible from the outside, before you actually make entry. The tactics in this book are primarily delayed entry tactics. Team-level CQB can also be divided into “deliberate” tactics and “emergency” tactics. The difference has less to do with speed and more to do with the level of care and attention applied to the clearing process. It is possible to execute deliberate tactics very quickly, as long as you are careful to clear each room and danger area completely. Essentially, when conducting a deliberate clear, you will not take any shortcuts.

Good to have you back, farmboy. I’ve missed you,

For the life of him, Callahan could not understand why the governor would send such an unwieldy and clearly disintegrating group into an operation as delicate as a hostage rescue. “There was a way to do this,” he later reflected, but unleashing hundreds of overwrought, fatigued, and excessively armed men was not it.

woman

While I can’t say I charted this path skillfully or even particularly willingly, the experience taught me that it’s all too easy to start feeling as if we’re being held hostage by our circumstances. Be they taxes, paying rent, taking care of a sick family member, or paying off student loans, these are the dragons in our lives. We can cower in fear, rage against fate, play the martyr, wallow in self-pity, waiting for the skies to magically part and be rescued—or we can take up arms.

President Carter attempted to negotiate the release of the hostages. When this failed, he authorized a military rescue mission, launched in April 1980. It was a disaster, and it turned out to be the hammer that would drive the final nail into Carter’s presidential coffin.

What you’ve experienced changed everything about you. We’re going to help you put all the pieces together. Heal your body, heal your mind, and give you the tools you need to feel safe again. You’ll leave as a survivor, not as a helpless victim. You’ll once again be in control of your life, rather than subject to the whims of the forces around you.

Once upon a time, there was a girl Who didn't believe nightmares were real But the girl woke up Trapped in a nightmare That girl is me.

the next destination in our descent into hell. The days pass with the relentless march of time. We can’t stop it, slow it, or reverse it. Minutes last hours, hours last days, and the world no longer makes sense. With only suffocating darkness to pass the time, I lose more and more of my sanity with each passing day.

that you’re not the only person to survive tragedy. Remember, there is always light in darkness. It’s up to you to find it, but it’s there.

The voice inside your head that tells you lies. You never asked for this to happen to you. None of it is your fault.

sometimes the darkness isn’t something I can push away. It consumes me and drowns me in screams and pain and flashes of memory so real it feels as if I’m there, reliving everything over again. The

It’s not about coping but taking control. Control the memories. Control our obsessive thoughts. Control the present. Control our future. We’re empowered to take back power over our lives. Rather than being defined by why happened, we control how we want to proceed.

She hates when she cries; sees it as a sign of weakness. I see it as a sign of truth. Strength. Resilience. Bravery.

Don’t bury your pain. It only gets harder the more you run from it. Don’t pretend it didn’t happen. It did. Don’t ignore your fear. That too is real, and you need to own it. You need to accept the fear, the helplessness, and the worst thing of all—that you survived when others did not. Acknowledge what happened. That’s the first step in accepting it. You were abducted, held against your will. You were tortured and you survived. Embrace all of that and remember that you survived. Find strength in that and use that strength to work through the rest. You’re worth loving.

one day, I would find my light. I wouldn’t be left alone in the darkness.

They tell the story of your strength. These scars speak to where you’ve been. They say nothing about who you are, or where you’re headed.

They’re exquisite reminders of your strength. What happened to you doesn’t define you.

We’re all survivors of the unimaginable. Each one of us comes with a story, but none of us are defined by it.

There are only two reasons not to do something. Either you can’t, or you won’t. One’s a limitation beyond your ability. The other is a choice you make. You can do this. Are you saying you won’t? That you won’t take control of your life?” Fucking

Fear is your enemy. Conquer your fear and you can do anything.

All I saw was the darkness. I never realized how important it was for the stars to have darkness around them if they were going to shine. I decided if I could use what happened to me and, I don’t know, somehow make sure it never happens to someone else, then I matter. My existence means something if I can help other people shine.

The only easy day was yesterday.

A victim act is a form of passive aggression. It seeks to achieve gratification not by honest work or a contribution made out of one's experience or insight or love, but by the manipulation of others through silent (and not-so-silent) threat. The victim compels others to come to his rescue or to behave as he wishes by holding them hostage to the prospect of his own further illness/meltdown/mental dissolution, or simply by threatening to make their lives so miserable that they do what he wants. Casting yourself as a victim is the antithesis of doing your work.

If our cherished rubrics are in any way threatened, we immediately rise up and bring the whole our ourselves to bear in a rigorous defense of them. And might it be that what we’ve errantly defined as a ‘threat’ is in fact an act of liberation that we didn’t see as such simply because (unbeknownst to us) our rubrics have become our own asphyxiating prisons and we’ve become our own wardens. Hence, let us dare not confuse the rescue mission that we call Christmas with anything less than what it is.

out

Gates recommended against a raid, although he was open to considering the strike option. He raised the precedent of the April 1980 attempt to rescue the fifty-three American hostages held in Iran, known as Desert One, which had turned catastrophic after a U.S. military helicopter crashed in the desert, killing eight servicemembers. It was a reminder, he said, that no matter how thorough the planning, operations like this could go badly wrong.

shouted,