Of Benghazi: Hd13 Hours- The Secret Soldiers

At dusk, the GRS team wound down their day. Some worked out in the makeshift gym. Others cleaned their rifles—HK416s, suppressed MP5s, and M4s loaded with 77-grain Open Tip Match rounds. Rone Woods was on the phone with his wife, promising to be home soon for his daughter’s birthday. "I love you," he said. "I’ll call you tomorrow."

Finally, after 20 agonizing minutes, Bob relented. "Go. Get them."

The GRS had failed to save them. The weight of that failure would crush any other men. But the night was not over. HD13 Hours- The Secret Soldiers of Benghazi

Minutes bled. The radio screamed: Ambassador Chris Stevens and Sean Smith, a communications specialist, were trapped in the burning safe house. The attackers—a coalition of al-Qaeda-linked militants and Ansar al-Sharia—were pouring through the gates, armed with PKM machine guns, RPG-7s, and diesel-soaked rags.

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. At dusk, the GRS team wound down their day

From three directions, mortar rounds began walking in. The first explosion cratered the parking lot, flipping a Land Cruiser onto its side. The GRS took positions along the north and east walls. Rone Woods climbed to the roof of the villa—the highest point, with no cover—manning a Mk 48 machine gun. "I need eyes on the north ridge," he said calmly over the radio. "They’re setting up a mortar tube."

Among them was Jack Silva, a former SEAL sniper with tired eyes and a quiet laugh. Tyrone "Rone" Woods, a towering former SEAL with a warrior’s heart and a father’s tenderness. Mark "Oz" Geist, a rugged Marine veteran who moved with the slow, deliberate caution of a man who had seen too much. And John "Tig" Tiegen, a no-nonsense contractor who trusted only his brothers. Rone Woods was on the phone with his

From the SMC, a frantic radio call crackled through the Annex’s comms: “We’re taking fire! The compound is breached! They’re burning the building!”