“Although Whitman acknowledged that in retrospect it might have been possible for the U.S. military to drive up to the hospital and take Lynch, he noted that that was not known at the time.

“‘If we had good knowledge we could drive in and take her out, we certainly would have done that rather than a joint operation…’”
- from CNN, today

“The rescue team that raided the hospital in the southern Iraqi town of Nasiriya early Wednesday local time included U.S. Army Rangers, Special Forces, Navy SEALs, Marines, and Air Force pilots and combat controllers, U.S. Central Command spokesman Gen. Victor Renuart said.”
-also from CNN, April 6th

Excerpts from the Journal of Marine Sergeant Robert Shaftoe

April 1 - Planning continues for Operation Lynch by Lunch. Iraqi tipster keeps offering to “check her out” himself and that he really “just needs someone to help carry the stretcher.” He’s brave. Too brave.

April 2 - Lynch by Lunch is a success! Here’s the breakdown:

0300 hrs - All units dispatched. My men and I are on a chopper, set to land on the roof of the “hospital” after SEALS and Special Forces neutralize the exterior perimeter.

0320 hrs - Reports of fire outside “hospital,” but word is that ground forces are in place. It’s go time.

0330 hrs - Landing on roof. Area suspiciously quiet, so we go into gamma formation. Basically a crawl n’ run all the way across the roof, then a stop n’ go down the stairway. It’s quiet. Too quiet. Feels like a set-up.

0345 hrs - We’ve broken through to a command post! After laying down suppressing fire, we storm into “Reception Area.” Several enemy operatives on hand, but they know better than to fight overwhelming force. They’re highly-trained - the frontline operatives are women (dear god - women!) in white uniforms. I scream at them a little, then send for a translator.

0400 hrs - It’s slow, too slow. But the Iraqi operatives are beginning to crack. One of ‘em agrees to “pull Pfc. Lynch’s file.” Another directs us to a safe area to establish a (very) temporary base camp. I scramble the rest of my platoon to this “waiting room.” We wait.

0420 hrs - Tense. We’re waiting, alert, watchful. Some of our intel guys have discovered a cache of enemy documents, just lyin’ out on a table. We do a quick scan: Saddam’s guys are concerned about possible strife in Ben Affleck and J. Lo’s relationship - are they planning to use this info? How? Private Foster finds evidence of possible subversive operation headed by Iraqi operatives only referred to as “Gallant” and “Goofus.” Materials are confiscated for later review.

0425 hrs - Enemy operative switches to our side! She’s gonna take us to Pfc. Lynch. Obviously she’s putting herself at great personal risk, god bless ‘er. We move out. It’s gotta be covert, though - she keeps shushing us, muttering something about “other patients.” We know what that means. We go into silent mode.

0430 hrs - We “3S” to Lynch’s cell: Scramble, serpentine, silence. She’s there. Entering recovery phase, we know we’re running out of time: Sunrise within an hour. We gotta MOVE.

0440 hrs - We’re moving out. The Iraqis who crossed over are celebrating, practically dancin’ in the halls. They crowd around us, looking for our autographs on little pieces of paper. They know the English for “Sign here.” Simple people, but brave - they’ve won our respect and we autograph their “papah-wohk.” Least we can do for the poor bastards.

0455 hrs - Back on the roof after 3Sing up the stairs (one enemy op. tried to lure us into the “elevator,” but we weren’t bitin’). If there was gonna be an ambush, they’re too late. Or maybe Special Forces took ‘em out. Either way, we’re clear, we got Lynch, and the sun is comin’ up. We get in the chopper and head for safety. After two hours on the kinfe’s edge, we can start to bring it down a notch. I tell the platoon to smoke ‘em if they got ‘em. God, I love sayin’ that.