Tom Sileo (12 page)

Not long after Travis returned to California after his niece's baptism, he got a call from his former Naval Academy roommate, who was still deployed in Iraq. Brendan was at Camp Fallujah, where Travis had spent so much time from the summer of 2005 to the spring of 2006.

“Guess what, Travis?” Brendan said. “My lat transfer to the SEALs was approved.”

“Wow, that is awesome, man!” Travis said. “What did they say about you being colorblind? Didn't you say they've never accepted a colorblind candidate before?”

“I guess they decided to give me a shot,” Brendan said. “I was lucky enough to get some good recommendations.”

“Man, that's just great,” Travis said. “So when do you start training?”

“I'll probably head out to San Diego next spring,” Brendan said. “BUD/S is going to be hard as hell, but it's great to at least get a chance at it.”

Travis knew most candidates wound up quitting Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL (BUD/S) training, but he also knew that his former roommate never quit anything. If anyone could handle the world's most unrelenting audition, it was Brendan Looney.

“You're going to kick ass,” Travis said. “The next time we hang out, I'll take you on a run and whip you back into shape.”

When Brendan told Travis he would be home around November 2006—the same time Travis was scheduled to take a trip back east—the two friends planned a visit.

“I'll have to check the schedule and see when the 'Skins and Eagles play each other this year,” Travis said.

“Sounds good,” Brendan said. “Eagles are going down!”

“We'll see about that,” Travis said with a laugh. “Well look, man, congratulations and make sure to stay safe over there.”

“Thanks, Trav,” Brendan replied. “Oh, and don't say anything to Amy about when I'm coming home. . . . I'm going to try to surprise her and my mom.”

Shortly after their phone call, Travis called his dad to tell him he had just heard from Brendan.

“Dad, Brendan got picked up to try out for the Navy SEALs,” he said.

“That's great, Travis,” Tom said. “The SEALs made the right call.”

“Yep, Brendan's as tough as they come,” Travis said.

Knowing that Brendan would probably become a Navy SEAL motivated Travis even more, just as hearing Travis's stories from Fallujah helped push Brendan to continue pursuing special operations.
Now that they were military officers, everything had a much bigger purpose than during their days at the Naval Academy. By driving each other to succeed, they were making each other better leaders.

Just prior to Thanksgiving 2006, Travis flew to Philadelphia to spend a few weeks with family and friends. He had been home in June and again in August and was planning to take a trip to Australia with friends before his mom pleaded with him to visit again before deploying to Iraq. Like most sons, Travis occasionally rolled his eyes at his mom's protective nature, but at the same time, he knew how important it was to spend time with her before going back to war.

One of the first things Travis did was meet up with Marine Major Steve Cantrell, an assistant Navy wrestling coach and economics professor whom Travis looked up to and respected. Cantrell had both coached and taught Travis in Annapolis and subsequently developed friendships with Tom and Janet after he moved to Pennsylvania.

Even after Travis had left the academy and come back, Cantrell had admired the young man's strength of character. He saw Travis's will to succeed over and over again in the wrestling room and also noticed how his hunger for success carried over into the classroom. Cantrell, who had served on a selection board that ultimately determined the path Naval Academy graduates would take inside the military, was thrilled when Travis had made the Marine Corps his goal.

Cantrell was subsequently assigned as the future first lieutenant's mentor. Aside from guiding Travis's physical training, including a rehabilitation program after a second surgery on his badly injured shoulder, Cantrell had also helped Travis prepare mentally for TBS and the rigors of becoming a Marine officer.

“You were a leader on the wrestling team,” Cantrell often told Travis. “Now you're going to be a leader on the battlefield.”

Even though Travis was a much younger, less seasoned Marine, he managed to inspire his mentor. Not only did Cantrell, who had
graded Travis's essays and exams, know this young man was bright enough to do anything he wanted in life, he always marveled over how Travis strove for tough assignments. Because he had excelled so greatly at TBS, Travis had been permitted to pick his unit, and he chose the 1st Reconnaissance Battalion with full knowledge that at least one combat deployment was on the horizon. Cantrell admired Travis's courage and determination.

Travis and Cantrell decided to spend a few days in New York City, where Cantrell had arranged a visit to the New York Fire Department's Rescue 1 headquarters. Located in Hell's Kitchen, Rescue 1 had become a revered place over the past five years. The small Manhattan building, which was still fully functioning, had been the home base for eleven firefighters—almost half the unit—killed in the September 11, 2001, terrorist attacks.

When Travis walked through Rescue 1's open red garage door, he saw men who had sacrificed and endured. It reminded him of the brave Marines he had seen on the front lines during his first deployment. The firefighters were welcoming, especially when they learned that Travis would soon be heading to Iraq for a second time.

The firefighters assembled several tables of mementos for Travis to look at, including patches from the uniforms of several firefighters killed on 9/11. The names of every fallen Rescue 1 firefighter were carved into one of the tables, and Travis did his best to remember all eleven names after he left the firehouse.

“Steve, I still can't believe what these guys were willing to do,” Travis said to his friend and mentor. “I don't know if I could run into a burning building.”

“You've already done it, Travis,” Cantrell said. “There's nobody more prepared to get the job done than you are.”

As they were leaving the firehouse, one firefighter and former Marine thanked Travis for coming to visit.

“Lieutenant Manion, I want you to have these hats and shirts,” the Marine Corps veteran said. “No matter how crazy things get
over there, you can always put one of these on and remember what you're fighting for.”

Upon returning to his parents' house, Travis headed down to the lower level, where his dad was working in his home office. When Tom asked his son about his trip, Travis said that though he and Cantrell had had some fun, the Rescue 1 visit was clearly the highlight.

“I've never seen anything like it,” Travis said. “The truly awesome thing is how much they support us.”

After talking more about the day's events, Travis pulled a blue hat out of his bag. With the Rescue 1 FDNY logo on the front and “9–11–01 Never Forget” on the back, it was a symbol of the war that had begun when al Qaeda attacked the United States.

“Dad, I want you to have this, and please wear it while I'm gone,” Travis said. “No matter what happens, always remember that this is what we're fighting for.”

As Tom took a long look at the hat before putting it down carefully on his desk, he felt an immense sense of pride. As a Marine himself, Tom knew the sacrifice Travis was making for his country. But as a father, Tom also recognized the danger on the horizon, and he was worried about his only son.

“Now remember, you're an advisor, so that means you tell the Iraqis what to do and then step back and watch them execute,” the Marine colonel said.

Suddenly Travis went silent. When his dad asked if he understood, the younger Marine finally spoke up. “Yeah, dad, I've got it.”

But Tom knew his son had no plans to “step back.” As a warrior and US Marine Corps officer, Travis would always lead from the front.

On December 4, 2006, a few weeks before Travis was scheduled to leave for California to embark on his second Iraq deployment,
he attended a Philadelphia Eagles–Carolina Panthers game with his sister Ryan's husband, Dave Borek, at Lincoln Financial Field. Travis had been going to Eagles games with his dad since he was a little boy, and Dave, who grew up in the Jersey Shore community of Avalon, where Ryan first met him during a summer trip, was also a big fan.

This was an important Monday night football game for the Eagles, and Travis and Dave approached it as they always did, with a first-rate tailgate party, cold beer, and hearty laughs. But as the sounds of rabid football fans filled the dark, foggy sky, Travis and his sister's husband were well aware of the night's significance, even if they shied away from discussing it. In less than a month Travis would be involved in bloody urban battles in one of the world's most dangerous places.

By any measure, Travis was ready for the streets of Fallujah, especially after his previous combat tour and two rounds of predeployment training. He was well prepared, focused, and except for maybe his junior year as a Navy wrestler, in the best physical condition of his young life.

Even so close to going back to Iraq, Travis's demeanor was calm. He was doing exactly what he wanted with his life, and instead of complaining about spending the next twelve months in a war-ravaged city that could justifiably be labeled a hell hole, he felt fortunate for the chance to put all the hard work of the last eight years to good use.

As they listened to one of Travis's favorite iPod playlists, which consisted of everything from Johnny Cash and Elton John to Ben Harper and The Roots, Dave took a sip of his beer and leaned against his car in silence as his visible breath blended with smoke from a small grill to fill the chilly air near the two-man tailgate. Dave knew young Americans were dying in Iraq almost every day, including a soldier named Private First Class Ross McGinnis, who had died the previous weekend in Baghdad. The nineteen-year-old Knox, Pennsylvania, native, who dove on top of a grenade
to save the lives of fellow Army soldiers, would later become the fourth US service member to be awarded the Medal of Honor for heroism displayed in Iraq.

Dave was an avid reader, particularly of military-themed books and magazines, and was following the war closely. He knew Travis faced severe risks in Fallujah, particularly in a unit that guided Iraqi soldiers around the city's hostile streets. Though he never mentioned the full scope of his fears to Ryan, or for that matter Travis, he was worried about whether he would see his brother-in-law again. In fact, part of him wished he could talk Travis out of leaving, even though he knew it would be an exercise in futility.

“Hey, Dave, are you alright?” Travis asked.

“Yeah, buddy, just thinking about the big game,” Dave said with a nervous grin. “Let's head inside.”

The Eagles came from behind in the fourth quarter to defeat the Panthers, 27–24, in a game that would spark a five-game winning streak and an NFC East division title. But as the crowd hooted and hollered while filing out of the stadium after the big win, Dave couldn't get out of his mind the images from Iraq he had been seeing on television: burning cars, crumbling buildings, and huge explosions.

As they reached a flight of stairs near the Lincoln Financial Field exit, Dave, with a clear hint of humor, finally conveyed his concerns to Travis.

“Hey, Trav, if I tripped you right now and you fell and broke your ankle, do you think they'd let you sit this deployment out?” he asked.

Travis chuckled at Dave's joke, but didn't say much in response. A brief moment of slightly awkward silence followed, while drunken Eagles fans shouted and chanted all around them. Suddenly Travis spoke up.

“You know what though, Dave?” Travis said with an unmistakably serious look on his face. “If I don't go, they're going to send another Marine in my place who doesn't have my training.”

“If not me, then who . . . you know what I mean?” he continued. “It's either me or that other guy who isn't ready, so I'm the one who has to get the job done.”

Dave was worried that he had offended Travis, but he also fully understood his point. His brother-in-law would spend the next year fighting insurgents and terrorists in Fallujah, and there simply wasn't any guarantee he was coming home safely. It was a tough pill to swallow, but this was the nature of warriors like Travis and Brendan.