The Red Circle: My Life in the Navy SEAL Sniper Corps and How I Trained America's Deadliest Marksmen (51 page)

Three months after the bin Laden raid, in August 2011, enemy forces shot down an American helicopter over Afghanistan, killing thirty American Special Ops troops, including seventeen SEALs. It was the highest number of casualties in a single incident in the now ten-year-old war in Afghanistan, higher even than the devastating losses of Operation Redwing, the op Marcus Luttrell had so narrowly survived. For me, this latest tragedy touched equally close to home. My good friend Heath Robinson, one of the strongest members of our team at ECHO platoon, was one of those seventeen SEALs who died in that helo crash. So was Chris Campbell, a BUD/S classmate of mine. By this time the bin Laden raid had long left the headlines, and most of us in the States were on to other hot news of the day. But the SEALs are not like a sports team who goes off to celebrate and take the season off after winning the Super Bowl. The guys who took out bin Laden were back to work the next day.

*   *   *

Not long ago I was sitting at the barber’s in San Diego getting a haircut when the guy in the next chair looked over at me and said, “Brandon?” I recognized him immediately, but it took me a minute to come up with the name: Chris Ponto. Chris was one of the kids I hung out with in the harbor at Ventura in my teens, when we were all aimless and hadn’t yet figured out what the hell we were going to do with our lives. When I made my decision to get out of there and join the navy, I’d lost touch with them. It was great to catch up. Chris was doing okay, had a boat service going in Ventura. We got to talking about the old days, and after a few minutes I asked him about a guy named Jake who’d been my best friend in those days.

“Jake,” said Chris, his eyes dropping to the floor in an unconscious gesture. “Yeah. He’s homeless now. Totally addicted.”

I asked about the girl Jake used to hang out with; I couldn’t bring up her name. Neither could Chris. “They’re still together,” he said. This surprised me. Jake’s girlfriend was from a wealthy family and had a trust fund. I’d always wondered if they’d stayed together and hoped that maybe she had pulled him out of that scene, helped him get on some positive track. Turned out, the opposite had happened. Jake had dragged her down. They were both still hanging around the harbor now, eking out a wretched existence.

Neither Chris nor I said it, but I know we were thinking the same thing.
That could so easily have been me.

I’ve thought long and hard about why I am writing this book and what I want it to say. I think the message I want my story to get across boils down to two words:

Excellence matters.

Throughout my time with the navy and within the SEAL community, I’ve seen poor leadership and exceptional leadership. I’ve seen training that was simply good, training that was great, and training so transcendingly amazing it blew my mind. I’ve seen the difference it makes.

In political matters I have always been a down-the-middle-line person. When it comes to leaders, I care less about their party affiliation and more about their character and competence. I don’t care how they would vote on school prayer or abortion or gay marriage or gun laws. I want to know that
they
know what the hell they’re doing, and that they are made of that kind of unswerving steel that will not be rattled in moments that count, no matter what is coming at them. I want to know that they won’t flinch in the face of debate, danger, or death.

I want to know that they excel at what they do.

A free society looks like it rests on big principles and lofty ideals, and maybe it does for much of the time. But in the dark times, those times that count most, what it comes down to is not reason or rhetoric but pure commitment, honed over time into the fabric of excellence.

Why am I telling you this? Because it
matters.

You may never shoot a sniper rifle. You may never serve as part of an assault team, or stand security in combat, or board a hostile ship at midnight on the high seas. You may never wear a uniform; hell, you may never even throw a punch in the name of freedom. I’ll tell you what, though. Whatever it is that you do, you are making a stand, either for excellence or for mediocrity.

This is what I learned about being a Navy SEAL: it is all about excellence, and about never giving up on yourself. And that is the red circle I will continue to hold, no matter what.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Writing this memoir has been very personal for me. Exposing your skeletons in the closet and baring your soul to the world can be both humbling and frightening. It reminds me of checking into BUD/S and gazing up at the life-sized “Creature from the Black Lagoon” statue, gift of some graduating BUD/S class or other, that stands on the quarterdeck greeting all newcomers with its green-mouthed, red-eyed stare. The sign around its neck reads, S
O YOU WANNA BE A
FROGMAN. Not a question, just posing a dare.

So you wanna write a MEMOIR.…

The first time I sat down to discuss this project with my agent, the legendary Margret McBride, in her office in La Jolla, California, she gave me a crucial piece of strategic advice. “Nobody writes his or her own memoir, Brandon,” she said. “You’re a good writer, but you need a
great
coauthor to help you out.”

I didn’t get great; I got incredible. Thank you, John David Mann. Having you as my “swim buddy” on this book project was like having one of my trusted teammates covering my six (navyspeak for “watching out for my backside”) in the field. You took all my scattered notes, napkin files, threads of memories, and countless hours on the phone, and then you turned it all into something truly special. For that I thank you tremendously. We have many sayings in the SEALs. One of them goes, “That guy is solid; I’d take a bullet for him any day,” and that’s how I feel about John Mann.

The support of so many people goes into any book project, far too many to identify each by name here, but at the top of my list are the following family and friends who will always hold a special place in my heart. Thank you:

To my mother, Lynn, for not giving me up for adoption in those early years in Canada (!) and for always being there for me, rain or shine.

To my dad, Jack, for being there for those early-morning sporting events; it meant a lot to me.

To my sister. You’re the best!

To my ex-wife, for being a great friend, coparent, and mom to our wonderful kids.

To my family in Canada.

To Glen “Bub” Doherty, my sniper-school shooting partner and lifelong friend. No one makes a better right-hand man.

To Eric Davis, for your friendship and hard and innovative work at the SEAL sniper course.

To the men of SEAL Team Three GOLF and ECHO platoons; you know who you are.

To Travis Lively, for proving that brotherhood still exists.

To Thomas Frasher, for always being there when it counted. You’re a true brother.

To Johnny “Tsunami” Surmont, one of the most creative SEALs I know, always inventing something new. You’ve been a great friend, Johnny—keep making great things!

To Billy Tosheff, my friend and fellow aviator and hell-raiser; thanks for everything, brother. Not too many friends will show up at 2:00
A.M.
, no questions asked!

To Alex Tosheff, for believing in my site and the business potential of
SOFREP.com
. You are Tier One IT, my friend!

To Master Chief Manty, for teaching me what it means to be a chief.

To Master Chief Jason Gardner, for your support and knowledge in all things sniper.

To Sally Lyndley, for your amazing muselike support, love, and friendship. You’re the world’s best fashion stylist, in my opinion. Apparently a whole lot of important people agree with me.

To fellow teammate Rob Smith and his lovely wife, Nicole. It never ceases to amaze me how creative guys in our SOF community are. Rob, your handmade RESCO instruments are incredible, and I’ve gladly put my Rolex out to pasture in favor of my new RESCO. Thanks for keeping the brotherhood alive and working with me on the signature “Red Circle” RESCO watch.

To Bill Magee, owner of the dive boat
Peace
. Some of my fondest childhood memories are of time on that boat with you and the crew.

To Marc Resnick, our editor at St. Martin’s, for believing in this book before it even existed, and to our literary agent, Margret McBride, for helping to make it happen.

To Marcus Luttrell and his wife, Melanie (I know who’s in charge). Thanks for that great foreword, brother.

To the WindanSea Surf Club, for welcoming me into their clan.

Finally I want to acknowledge the following fallen SEAL teammates who touched my life in both training and combat. You guys will live in my memories forever: Matt “Axe” Axelson, Mike Bearden, Chris Campbell, Jason Freiwald, Mike Murphy, Tom Retzer, Heath Robinson, Jon “JT” Tumilson, John Zinn, and honorary teammates Mike Dahan and Paulo Emanuele.

See you on the other side, gents.

Brandon

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

BRANDON WEBB is a former U.S. Navy SEAL; his last assignment with the SEALs was Course Manager for the elite SEAL Sniper Course, where he was instrumental in developing new curricula that trained some of the most accomplished snipers of the twenty-first century. Webb has won numerous distinguished service awards, including the Presidential Unit Citation and the Navy Commendation Medal with a “V” for “Valor,” for his platoon’s deployment to Afghanistan following the September 11 attacks. He is editor for
Military.com
’s blog Kit Up, SOFREP’s editor in chief, and a frequent national media commentator on snipers and related Special Operations Forces military issues.

JOHN DAVID MANN is an award-winning author whose titles include the
New York Times
bestseller
Flash Foresight
and the international bestseller
The Go-Giver
.

THE RED CIRCLE.
Copyright © 2012 by Brandon Webb. Foreword copyright © 2012 by Marcus Luttrell. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

www.stmartins.com