Both men were awarded the Medal of Honor for their actions that day.
"I felt like somehow, miraculously, a reaction force has gotten here much faster than I would've ever thought possible," Durant said.
He felt that he and his crew were going to make it out of the situation alive. But that hope evaporated only two or three minutes later, once Durant realized that the two men standing beside him made up the entire rescue operation.
With gunfire raging all around the downed helicopter, Durant recalled the way Gordon and Shughart seemed completely calm, setting up a perimeter and making radio calls as they were trained to do.
They held off the mob for a time, exchanging volleys of gunfire with the Somalis who had surrounded the chopper. But the prospect of a successful rescue slipped away with each passing moment.
Durant said the relief he had felt when the two Delta Force operators showed up dissolved the moment Gordon was shot.
"It's like being shot down initially," he said, "because now one of the guys you thought was indestructible has just been taken down."
Durant was assessing the injuries of the rest of his crew when he heard Shughart make his last stand.
"The volume of gunfire was unbelievable," he said. "I kind of knew there was no way he could hold them all off."
Then the shooting stopped, and Durant knew Shughart was down. He said the moments that followed were the most fearful of the entire battle.
"I remember just trying to come to terms with it, looking up to the sky and thinking I can't run, I can't fight, and I can't hide. ... It's over," he said.
The three men in Durant's crew were killed as the Somalis stormed the crash site, but Durant did not die that day. Instead, he was thrown into the back of a pickup truck and taken prisoner by a local warlord.
Eventually, 'the Somalis liked me'While in captivity, Durant had one mission: Try to survive.
Initially, Durant says, his captors treated him badly. Despite nursing severe injuries from the crash and subsequent beating, he was shot in the leg while being held prisoner, constantly threatened by guards and kept in deplorable living conditions.
He remembers how the Somalis had tied him with a dog chain, wrapping his hands together so he couldn't even wipe the dirt from his face.
They kept him in a concrete room with no furniture and only one door, which remained closed.
But day by day, they became less hostile.
Despite the cultural differences, Durant was able to build a rapport with the guards by using his sense of humor, to the point where the Red Cross determined that his captors experienced "reverse Stockholm syndrome."
"My way of dealing with stress is to make jokes," he said. "Basically, their (the Red Cross) conclusion was that the Somalis liked me."
While in captivity, Durant said, he never lost hope that he would be freed.
"You have got to be hopeful ... telling yourself that someday, I'm going to get out of here to keep yourself motivated psychologically," he said.
And after 11 days, Durant was released back into U.S. custody after negotiations spearheaded by American diplomat Robert Oakley.
But he did not fully accept that the ordeal was over until he walked through the gate of the United Nations compound that he had taken off from 12 days earlier.
Once securely inside the base, Durant was comforted by familiar faces, but was also greeted by more, unexpected heartbreak.
"When they brought some of the guys from the unit over, that was a very emotional moment because, first of all, I got to see these guys. But that's also where I found out that two of our very close friends, Donovan Briley and Cliff Wolcott, had been killed," he said. "I knew my crew was gone, I had 11 days to kind of come to terms with that, but I didn't know two other very good friends were gone."
Claims insufficient resourcesDurant was still reeling from the news when he received a call from President Bill Clinton.
"I just told him that I was proud to be an American, or something stupid like that," he said. "I didn't tell him what I really wanted to say."
Looking back on his conversation with Clinton, Durant says he was adhering to the obligation of those who serve in the military to not to openly criticize civilian leaders. But the reality is that what happened in Somalia is "absolutely the fault of our civilian leadership at the time," he said.
"We didn't have the resources we needed to do that mission. We had asked for them, they were denied, and the results speak for themselves," he said. "We took what was a very successful operation that had gone on for 10 months and turned it into what, unfortunately, history will always look at, overall, as a failure."
"It was a tough pill to swallow to know that you and your friends did everything you could do, fought your tails off in that battle, and our hands were tied because of political decisions, which is unacceptable," he added.
Eighteen soldiers in the U.S.-led force were killed and 74 were wounded in the Battle of Mogadishu.
'I've been given this second life'Durant had to face another difficult reality upon returning to U.S. soil: His experience had made him famous.
"Some people like being the center of attention, but I don't," he said.
While in captivity, Durant had little idea of how much the media had covered his story and the public interest that awaited him at home.
"For a long time, I was pretty bitter about the whole thing because, you know, my friends are dead and within 90 days, the U.S. withdrew all forces from Somalia and basically gave up," he said.
But today, Durant says, he understands why his experience resonated so deeply with people all over the world and recognizes that some good has come from the terrible events in Mogadishu.
"Something I am still not comfortable talking about, but it is part of the story, is when American bodies are dragged through the streets ... the shock factor goes up another level," he said.
The media frenzy just after his release, in many ways, made Durant the face of the U.S. involvement in Somalia.
While the news coverage was, at times, overwhelming, he said the exposure highlighted the fact that the U.S. military needed to adapt to the realities of modern, unconventional warfare.
"If Somalia doesn't happen, we aren't as ready for the war on terror," he said. "To me, that is the one silver lining to what happened. ... I truly believe it left us better prepared for the conflicts that we face today."
On a personal level, Durant said his experiences in Somalia have had a lasting impact on the way he approaches life.
"If I face challenges or setbacks, I put it in perspective by saying I should be dead," he said. "I've been given this second life that's almost as long as my first life, at this point."
That attitude has helped Durant find personal and professional success in his "second life."
Not long after his release, the Army told him that he would not be allowed to fly again, because of his physical injuries.
But that only fueled his desire to get back into the cockpit. After only 10 months of healing, Durant ran the Marine Corps Marathon, an accomplishment that gave him the confidence to sign a waiver and eventually fly for five more years.
He also said he probably would not have started his own company if it weren't for what happened to him in Somalia, as his experience opened his view to new possibilities outside of being a pilot.
His company, Pinnacle Solutions, has grown significantly since he founded it in 2008. Nearly 85% of the people he employs are veterans.
'The ghosts are gone'Today, Durant says his injuries give him very little physical discomfort, and he is able to play hockey on a regular basis. But like many, many vets, he says the psychological healing process was incredibly difficult.
While he has never experienced many of the negative effects usually associated with post-traumatic stress disorder, he admits that he struggled to deal with grief for a long time.
"There was a time where I cried every day," Durant said. "It would be a wave of emotion that just came over me ... my friends are dead, and if that doesn't bother you, then you are made of something different than I am."
Telling his story has helped Durant heal. He now travels across the country speaking to various groups.
"Telling the story was absolutely therapeutic for a long period of time," he said. "I didn't realize it, but one theory I have about why I don't think I suffer from most of the symptoms that would be associated with PTSD is that I have told this story."
"The ghosts are gone," he added.
But just after he returned home, Durant says, the media attention affected his relationship with his family, specifically his first wife, Lorrie.
"The media is very aggressive, and if there's a big story, pretty much anything's going to be done to try to get that story," he said, adding that his handling of some situations with the media "probably became a contributing factor" to his divorce.
Despite the divorce, Durant said his experience in Somalia is almost a "nonfactor" in terms of his relationship with his six children. Most of them were either very young or not yet born when he was shot down, and his experience in Somalia isn't now part of his family's daily life.
"Every once in a while, there'll be something that comes up in the news about it, or someone will recognize me somewhere, and the topic will come up, and so they all know," he said. "But it isn't who we are. It doesn't define us, at all."
And while his time in Somalia has had a significant impact his life, Durant doesn't want people to see him as just "the 'Black Hawk Down' guy." He'd rather they see his accomplishments as a businessman and parent.
However, he said, he does understand the lasting relevance of his story and the way it has shaped the man he has become.
"Whether it sounds good or not, in the end Somalia has turned out to be a great thing for me, because of the effect that it's had on me and the opportunities in my life," he said.
"Is Somalia a good thing? It's a horrible thing. But, you know, I guess there's something to be said for taking something horrible and finding a way to make it in any way positive."