SEAL of Honor (35 page)

In June 2003 he was assigned to the 160th Special Operations Aviation Training Company and completed the Basic Mission Qualification Course. He was subsequently assigned as a helicopter repairman for the 3rd Battalion, 160th SOAR.

In February 2004 he was reassigned within the battalion to Company B as a CH-47D flight engineer. Sergeant Jacoby’s military schools included the SERE school, the Basic Mission Qualification Course, and the Heavy Helicopter Repairer Course.

A memorial service was held for Sergeant Kip Jacoby on July 8, 2005, in his hometown of Pompano Beach, Florida.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

—ABRAHAM LINCOLN, letter to Mrs. Lydia Bixby, November 21, 1864, Abraham Lincoln Online,
http://showcase.netins.net/web/creative/lincoln/speeches/bixby.htm

 

 

 

H
aving previously completed their JCET missions, Lieutenant Mark Hernandez and his squad had deployed to Baghdad. On June 28 they were informed of the events surrounding Operation Red Wings, and watched the Predator drone feeds of the helo crash site on a wall-mounted screen at the SEAL Team Seven headquarters in downtown Baghdad. All realized that with the RPG hit, the subsequent crash and resulting explosion, and the nature of the terrain, there could be no survivors. By this time all on board had been identified. Hernandez was staggered by the realization that he had just lost four of his SEALs and that another four men from his platoon were still missing.

With the fate of those on the helo known, full attention was directed to the four SEALs still on the mountain. While there had been no contact since Lieutenant Murphy’s call for help, all remained optimistic—after all, they were Navy SEALs, and SEALs are never out of the fight.

Lieutenant Seth Dunn, the task unit commander, was a former Army captain. He made use of his Army contacts and received up-to-the-minute information on the continuing and ever expanding search for his SEALs. In addition to the SEALs in the second helo, nearly three hundred Marines and Army Rangers were involved in the search, but they had found nothing.

After a few days of watching the Predator feeds, and being in frequent communication with the unit’s remaining SEALs in Afghanistan, Dunn and Hernandez advocated that they and their squad be “pushed forward” (moved to Afghanistan)
to assist in the recovery of their SEALs. They enlisted the help of Commander Michael Clark of SEAL Team Seven. Clark sent detailed e-mails to Naval Support Activity Bahrain and NSW in Coronado recommending that Dunn be permitted to push forward to Afghanistan and assist in the search, stating that doing so would be in the best interests of all involved.

Although most of their missions had been completed, Dunn and Hernandez and their squads were dispatched to Fallujah for a snatch-and-grab mission that was completed without a shot being fired. They quickly returned to Baghdad to monitor the search-and-recovery effort. Upon their arrival they were informed that Marcus Luttrell had been recovered alive. At his debriefing, Marcus was able to describe the battle and the wounds he had witnessed the others receive, and also gave a more detailed location of the battlefield. Search efforts for the other three SEALs were narrowed down to that area.

Early in the morning of July 4, Commander Clark approached Dunn and Hernandez and asked, “How soon can your guys be packed and ready to head to Afghanistan?” Lieutenant Hernandez immediately ran to notify the remainder of the squad while Lieutenant Dunn coordinated travel arrangements. Within an hour the squad was packed and had arrived at the airfield for immediate deployment to Bagram.

When they arrived at Camp Ouellette, they were informed that the bodies of Michael Murphy and Danny Dietz had been recovered and were on their way back to Bagram. Also found during the search was the body of Lance Corporal Kevin B. Joyce. At about 11:00 PM on June 25, Joyce’s Marine unit was returning to its base on a dirt road alongside the dangerous and fast-moving Pech River. The weight of the vehicle caused the edge of the road to collapse and the vehicle to slide into the river. The three Marines inside the vehicle abandoned it, but Joyce was swept away. The other two were rescued or managed to get out of the water.

As the helos that carried the bodies approached, all SOF personnel lined the runway to welcome their brothers home. After the remains were removed, transferred to ambulance truck, and taken to the base mortuary, Dunn and Hernandez were given the grim task of officially identifying the bodies of their fallen comrades.

As Dunn and Hernandez entered the mortuary room, they struggled to keep their emotions in check. It was decided that Hernandez, the platoon commander, would officially identify Murphy and that Dunn, as task unit commander, would identify Dietz.

As the men approached the bodies of their fallen comrades, Hernandez was drawn to the table on the left, where he saw the bright orange FDNY patch on the right shoulder sleeve of the uniform shirt laying over the body of the man he now believed to be Michael Murphy. Although Murphy and Dietz looked completely different from what he remembered, with both having grown heavy beards since their arrival in Afghanistan, Hernandez immediately recognized the Celtic Cross tattoo on the man’s right shoulder. He remembered Michael telling him the story of the Celtic Cross on several occasions.

Hernandez became mesmerized while he stared at the cross. Snapping himself back to the present, he scanned down the body and saw the wounds described by Marcus. There was no question. Hernandez identified the remains of his AOIC, Lieutenant Michael P. Murphy. Lieutenant Dunn also positively identified Petty Officer Second Class Danny Dietz to the mortuary staff. After completing the required paperwork, they returned to the B-huts to pack up the dead men’s personal belongings and prepare them for return to the families.

Upon finishing their grim task, both Dunn and Hernandez met with other SOF commanders and devised an operational plan to continue their search for Petty Officer Matthew Axelson. Based on the information Marcus had given at his debriefing, they knew that Axe had received a severe head wound; nevertheless, they approached the upcoming mission as a rescue, not a recovery, and developed their plans quickly.

At 6:30 AM on July 5, a large silver C-17 sat on runway D-3 at Bagram Airfield, with the shadow of the Afghan mountains in the distance. With the rear ramp down, the aircraft appeared dark and cavernous. Designed to carry more than a hundred troops, that day its manifest would show, in addition to its two pilots, single loadmaster, and escort, only three passengers. Even at this early hour the sun rose high in the sky and the temperature was already over 80º. Farther down the tarmac sat the two A-10 Thunderbolt jet aircraft that would escort the C-17 out of Afghan airspace.

With the camp’s flags at half-staff, three empty green camouflaged open-bed trucks lined up just outside the Bagram mortuary. Over the next several minutes, hundreds of Army Rangers, Night Stalkers, Green Berets, and Delta Force troops joined with Air Force pararescue PJs, Marines from Force Recon, and Navy SEALs to form a single line that ran from the base mortuary down the tarmac nearly one hundred yards to where four lines of additional troops extended back nearly fifty yards from the C-17’s open ramp. A single troop with bagpipes took a position about twenty yards behind the double-lined troops. An honor guard consisting
of two armed troops flanked two flag bearers, one with a ceremonial gold-fringed American flag and the other the ceremonial gold-fringed dark blue flag of CJTF-76, stood at attention at the end of the double line of troops. Both flags were fully extended in the stiff breeze, the silver special operations forces spear atop of each flag staff glistening in the bright morning sun.

A jeep brought a heavily bearded Marcus, dressed in loose fitting jeans, a blue shirt, and a khaki baseball hat, out to the C-17. Despite his injuries, Marcus had insisted on attending the ceremony. Deliberately, he exited the vehicle and walked slowly to the base of the ramp, where he stood at attention to the degree his injuries and pain would allow.

As the loadmaster stood at the top of the C-17’s open ramp, he looked off to his left and saw the first flag-draped Zeigler case,
⁸
which contained the remains of Lieutenant Michael P. Murphy, being loaded onto the first truck by six body bearers. After carefully placing the case onto the bed of the truck, they lined both the left and right of the truck. The vehicle moved forward about twenty yards and stopped. The second flag-draped Zeigler case, containing the remains of Petty Officer Second Class Danny Dietz, was loaded onto the next truck. It pulled forward about ten yards and was flanked on both sides by a second group of six body bearers. Finally, the third flag-draped case, which contained the remains of Lance Corporal Kevin B. Joyce, was loaded onto the third truck by a third group of six body bearers, who also took their positions on either side.

After all three of their comrades had been placed on the trucks, the crisp and haunting notes of “Amazing Grace” was heard in the distance. The troops in the single line from the mortuary snapped to attention and saluted as the three fallen soldiers slowly traveled the hundred yards and stopped just in front of the honor guard. As the honor guard marched forward between the double lines of troops, they all snapped to attention. Just behind the honor guard was Commander Kent Paro and Lieutenant Commander Patrick Moden, a Navy chaplain wearing his white stole.

Father Moden walked up the ramp and then down the length of the plane. He turned as the first group of body bearers brought on board the remains of Lieutenant Michael Murphy. They lowered him to the floor of the plane at the feet of Father Moden and then stood at attention. The remains of Petty Officer Danny Dietz and Lance Corporal Kevin Joyce followed in order and were also brought to Father Moden, then placed on the floor. The nine bearers all took one step back. Additional troops then lined both sides of the cargo bay and the ramp, extending back more than fifty yards. On the wall of the plane off to Father Moden’s left was a large American flag.

After a brief but moving service and closing prayer, Father Moden sprinkled each flag-draped case with holy water and invited those who desired to file past and offer their final respects. Hundreds lined up, and for the next ninety minutes or more SOF personnel passed by each of the three cases in a U-shaped pattern. Some reached down and ran their hands along the flag as they walked, others stopped and paused for a moment of personal reflection, while many knelt with their heads buried in their hands and wept quietly. Those grieving individuals who had the most difficulty were supported by their fellow teammates with a hand on the shoulder, or in some cases arm in arm.

While none of the SOF personnel knew Lance Corporal Joyce, the grieving process for him was the same. Many knelt and mourned alongside his body. They all knew the type of individual he was—a Marine, a fellow warrior. He was just nineteen, the same age as many of their siblings, and in some cases the same age as their oldest children. His service, his sacrifice, and his loss were felt no less and were no less important. At that very moment, his fellow Marines were combing the mountains to find their missing SEAL brother, Matt Axelson.

Besides the emotional release it provided, the ramp ceremony was important to those who remained for three very distinct reasons. First, it allowed the remaining warriors to honor the service of those who had fallen. Second, because the warriors who were present at the ramp ceremony would be unable to attend the fallen men’s funeral services, it provided a sense of closure for those who remained behind. Third, for those who remained, the ceremony served as a source of strength. Warriors are inherently part of a cause greater than themselves, and, as such, they find a special strength in each other, the one that makes them so extraordinarily formidable.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

—COMMODORE PETE VAN HOOSER, Commander, Naval Special Warfare Group Two, quoted at
Militaryphotos.net
,
www.militaryphotos.net/forums.showthread.php?t=71680

O
n July 8, 2005, a memorial service was held for the dead of SEAL Team Ten. During that ceremony, Admiral Joseph Maguire, the commander of Naval Special Warfare Command, provided the opening remarks. Following Admiral Maguire’s comments and the presentation of medals to the members of the deceased warriors’ families, Commodore Pete Van Hooser approached the microphone and, after a deliberate pause, began to speak.