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One Man In: The Explosive Firsthand Account of the Lone Special-Ops Commando Who Fought Off a Major Terrorist Attack in Kenya - Hardcover

Craighead, Christian

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9781982177331: One Man In: The Explosive Firsthand Account of the Lone Special-Ops Commando Who Fought Off a Major Terrorist Attack in Kenya

Synopsis

This thrilling memoir by a heroic special forces soldier reads like a real-life version of an action movie.

It was midafternoon on January 15, 2019, and Christian Craighead was stepping out of the shower. The forty-three-year-old British special-ops soldier was at home in Kenya’s bustling capital city of Nairobi, having recently arrived in the country to train units of the Kenyan army.

Then a local friend called, saying the upscale hotel and office complex he was at was under a terrorist attack. Within minutes, Craighead was in his pickup truck with his weapons case beside him. He floored the accelerator, steering to the wrong side of the highway to dodge oncoming vehicles and pedestrians.

For the next twenty-two hours, Craighead relied on every bit of his twenty-eight years of elite military training to win a deadly game of hide-and-seek with a unit of ethnic Somali terrorists who had already carried out one suicide bomb attack and were intent on gunning down as many other innocent people as possible. At first on his own, then as the adopted leader of a small group of Kenyan police, Craighead moved through the complex, where more than a thousand hotel staff, guests, and office workers normally spent their days. He shepherded scores of terrified people to safety. And after he and his men located and engaged the terrorists, a battle of guns, grenades, and tactics ensued. Suffice it to say that Craighead and his men made it out. The terrorists did not.

Told in gripping, minute-by-minute detail, One Man In is a story of uncommon heroism, from a man who happened to be in the right place at the right time—and decided to act.

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About the Author

Christian Craighead joined the British Army at sixteen, going on to spend the next twenty-eight years serving in the UK’s most elite units—the Parachute Regiment, Pathfinder Platoon, and ultimately 22 SAS. Renowned for covert reconnaissance, counterterrorism, direct action, and hostage rescue, 22 SAS became the setting for nearly fifteen years of Craighead’s career, during which he took part in more than a thousand high-risk missions across multiple theaters, including Iraq and Afghanistan. After a remarkable career, he retired from active service on September 7, 2020, highly decorated for gallantry, receiving multiple honors, including Britain’s second-highest military award, the Conspicuous Gallantry Cross. He now lives in the United States.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Prologue PROLOGUE
Two hand grenades bounced down the stairs, coming toward me.

I darted back into the hallway of the hotel. The six officers from the Kenyan paramilitary police assault squad who had become my adopted team took cover with me. We had been watching the stairs that led to the gym on the seventh floor, where the terrorists were holed up.

The grenades detonated with an earsplitting, mind-numbing crash. Plaster, masonry, and broken glass fell to the floor.

You’ve probably never heard a hand grenade going off. But even outside they’re a lot louder than in the movies. In the confines of an upscale hotel hallway, with hard marble-type floors and concrete ceilings, the noise was deafening. I could feel my eardrums rocking.

I’m used to hearing them in close-quarter combat. But I’d normally be wearing a helmet with ear protection. Not for the first time that night, I wished I’d brought my headgear with me and not left it in the pickup truck.

In addition to the noise, the shock of the detonations was unbelievable. It felt like the explosions were forcing the air out of my lungs. Added to that, these were almost certainly old Chinese-made grenades, with who-knows-what inside them, and the black smoke they released mixed with the dust from all the damaged concrete, plasterwork, and fittings turned the hallway toxic. My eyes streamed and I coughed; the back of my throat was on fire.

The explosions hadn’t caused any injuries among our team, but they were quickly followed by a long volley of automatic fire, with bullets pinging off the floor and embedding themselves in the walls. The AK-47 on automatic is a loud weapon at the best of times. In this setting, it was off the charts.

Fucking hell! was all I could think.

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