13 Hours: A Review

Knowing the end of this story does not diminish the powerful imagery and emotion of the retelling. My roommate and I settled in as we were introduced to the main characters. My heart saddened for the betrayal felt and the four men that died. But I’m skipping ahead.

The character building was poignant as they presented many of the men’s families through flashbacks, pictures or conversation. My roommate was slightly familiar with what happened, but still had some trouble keeping the characters straight. I will admit that I had some trouble with that, too, as the beards and similar facial/body features made it hard to identify them in the fast-paced action sequences.

Setting the scene for the actual 13 hours to come was helpful to me. Visualizing the area and understanding the circumstances as to the reasons why Ambassador Stevens and the security team (and their relationship to the CIA) were where they were, was necessary for the story to make sense. The animosity that the CIA leader had for the military was palatable. There was one incident where I would have cheered if the soldier had punched him in the head.

The cinematography was richly done and detailed. The filth and squalor of the city and the sounds of gunfire and bombs were part of the tale and transported me to a different life than I know. The people of Benghazi, with the various emotions of suspicion, mild interest or blank stares showing on their faces and their sometimes confused or furtive actions, portrayed the atmosphere of doubt prevalent as to who was friend or foe. Much of the destruction that happened during the 13 hours could have been avoided if our guys had been able to know which Libyans to trust. Too much time was wasted by our men not reacting because they didn’t want to engage innocent gun toting locals.

As the action started, and throughout the story, one thing was obvious – the disappearance of the Libyan “so-called” security detail. Something that didn’t quite hit home with me until watching the movie was that every Libyan had knowledge (from the security detail to the local residents) of what was going to happen before it happened. The preparations were being made by the militants to move on the Special Mission Compound were shown and the moment they started to move, the Libyan security detail ran away.

Moving from the compound to the annex, the CIA personnel were increasingly frightened. The CIA had been attempting to secure help from our government without success. Our heroes took control and assumed their positions on the roof of the buildings in the annex. As wave after wave of militants were engaged, each one being fiercer with heavier ordinance, the superior training and expertise of our men prevailed.

Yet, the reality of what happened was brought home in the last attack. There was one scene that I will not tell you about (you just have to see it yourself) that made me lose my breath. The tears started to flow.

The group was then picked up and transported to the Benghazi airport. The CIA personnel and wounded were taken while four of our men stayed behind to wait with the four dead men. Later, a transport arrived to pick them up. One disturbing line as the aircraft taxied to a halt in front of them, (paraphrased) “Even now, there were no American planes.” More tears.

Two final points:

Even after the plaintive cries to our government and military for help, the only thing they did was to watch from an unarmed drone. One scene that is seared into my mind is the view of a military base with several fighter jets sitting empty; doing nothing.

The very short scene of militants shooting the American flag in the compound revealed their intent. I used that image above to illustrate what the Islamic militants hate. Freedom.