Having secured the surviving seven Americans from the SMC, the GRS loaded them into the vehicles. "We’re pulling out!" Silva ordered. They drove back through the streets of Benghazi, bullets sparking off the hood of the Suburban. One round pierced the windshield, missing Oz’s head by an inch.
The explosion was deafening. Shrapnel tore through his chest and neck. He fell backward off the roof, landing in a pool of his own blood. Silva and Oz rushed to him. Silva put pressure on the wound, but he could feel Rone’s pulse fluttering, then slowing. "Stay with me, brother," Silva whispered. Rone’s eyes, wide and clear, looked up at the Libyan sky. He tried to say something—maybe his daughter’s name—but only blood came out. Then he was gone. HD13 Hours- The Secret Soldiers of Benghazi
They arrived at the SMC to find the main gate unmanned and the diplomatic villa engulfed in flames. Thick, black smoke boiled into the sky. The surviving Diplomatic Security (DS) agents—men like David Ubben—were pinned down behind a low wall, returning fire with pistols against a hail of AK rounds. Having secured the surviving seven Americans from the