Tom Sileo (17 page)

“See that wire?” Travis said to another Iraqi lieutenant. “That's a command wire, and it's stretching toward that building.”

“Gather your men and follow me,” he said to the Iraqi before turning to his Marines. “You and the other guys cover us in case there are snipers.”

“Lieutenant, why don't we just leave?” the Iraqi said to Travis.

“Because they'll keep planting bombs around here and kill more of my men, more of your men, and probably some kids,” Travis said. “So respectfully, Lieutenant, I'm going over there to find who's responsible, with or without you.”

After a brief pause, the Iraqi lieutenant got three of his men and followed Travis as he traced the command wire's origin.

Rounding a corner, Travis saw a man in civilian clothes kneeling over what appeared to be a pile of grenades, which along with the attached wires, appeared to be some sort of booby trap. Without hesitation, Travis squared up to confront the threat.

The Marines out on the street heard the pop of Travis's M-203 grenade launcher and the subsequent explosion. Several ran toward the sound, while others stayed to keep watch over the exterior.

The tall, sweaty insurgent took off running, now being chased by a fearless, determined Marine. Travis had a bad guy in his sights, and he wasn't going to let him get away.

“Stop,” Travis shouted in Arabic while pursuing the suspect.

By the time the US and Iraqi reinforcements arrived, Travis was dragging the frightened suspect down off a wall he had tried to scale in an unsuccessful attempt to escape. After body-slamming him to the ground, Travis put the insurgent's hands behind his back, then made sure he was taken in for questioning.

The suspect eventually led the MiTT team to a room not far from the booby trap, which contained grenades and many more bomb-making materials. Without losing any lives or ruffling more feathers in the Sunni enclave, Travis had helped remove deadly weapons and another terrorist from Fallujah's streets.

Half a world away in California, about three hours from the desert where Travis had trained for his two Iraq deployments, Brendan was about to embark on his most difficult challenge since 9/11: BUD/S training. While his cross-country drive and Travis's daily combat missions made it difficult for the close friends to communicate, the focused Navy SEAL candidate put his feelings on paper in a March 22, 2007, journal entry:

       
So tomorrow is the big day. Checking into BUD/S. Kind of crazy to think I was in South Korea this time last year. I feel like I should be more nervous than I am. This is kind of like a big game, but I have played in plenty of those situations before so maybe my body is used to it. (My brother) Steve and I drove out here almost two weeks ago with stops in Nashville and Austin. Austin was by far the best and we were able to see [a good friend]. Good times. Nashville was not too bad either though.

             
I am living in IB (Imperial Beach), pretty low key. It is no Coronado, but it will work. I am living with Rob Sarver also. Together he and I will crush BUD/S. Up first is the big inspection. We will see what it has to bring. Other than that, it is just some other check in stuff. I am looking forward to the challenge and plan to excel.

Back in Fallujah, the MiTT team's morale was surprisingly high as April began, especially considering that they had already been in a miserable, violent place for three months.

“We're fucking invincible right now,” one Marine said.

Travis didn't respond. He felt fortunate not to have lost any MiTT team members so far in the deployment, yet he knew the cruel randomness of war could leave several Marines—or even him—dead in a split second. Still, 3-2-1 MiTT seemed to be defying the Iraq war's steep odds.

He took things one day at a time, waking up every morning with another quote from
300
in the back of his mind: “Today, no Spartan dies.”

After speaking with Lieutenant Jalal one morning about the coming day's mission, Travis turned to Nick, the interpreter who helped him communicate with Iraqi troops.

“What do you think of all the crazy things we're seeing here?” Travis asked the Iraqi.

“I don't know,” Nick said. “But thanks to you, I know what Saddam used to say about all Americans being bad isn't true.”

After nodding to acknowledge his kind words, Travis asked Nick where he hoped to end up after the war was over.

“I want to go to your country,” Nick said. “I want to go to school and start a new life.”

“That's good,” Travis said. “America would be lucky to have you.

“Listen,” he continued. “If there is anything I can do to help you, like a recommendation or getting your paperwork to the right people, make sure to let me know.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Nick said.

After his conversation with the interpreter, Travis briefed his team on what would be another full day of danger in Fallujah's narrow, treacherous alleys.

“Spartans, prepare for glory,” Travis announced, to laughter from Petty and others. The Marines had already heard him quote enough
300
lines to feel like they'd seen the entire movie.

While helping turn the tide in Fallujah, First Lieutenant Travis Manion wrote a letter to
The Intelligencer
, one of his hometown newspapers in Bucks County, Pennsylvania:

          
There are many views on our mission here; however, all I can say with certainty is that there are thousands of Americans over here working hard towards a positive outcome in Iraq. Every day I am here I see great things being accomplished under harsh circumstances from young Americans. I am truly honored to serve beside these Marines, Sailors, Soldiers, and Airmen. I am not sure the average American sees the positives these servicemen and women accomplish or even understands the sacrifices of their efforts, however, whatever course of action our leadership decides upon, there are those in waiting ready to carry out the mission in support of our country and in defense of its people and their freedoms.

          
Respectfully,

          
Travis Manion

          
1stLt USMC

On April 22, 2007, Travis's dad was enjoying a sunny Sunday afternoon on his porch when his cell phone rang. A special code appeared on the screen, which indicated that his son was calling from Iraq. Though their connection was marred by more static
than usual, Tom was thrilled to be hearing from Travis for the first time in over a week.

After they greeted each other, Travis told Tom that he had been following updates on the April 16, 2007, mass shooting at Virginia Tech. The Marine said he was heartbroken for the thirty-two victims and their families, and he discussed the shocking tragedy with his dad. The images being beamed around the world from the Blacksburg, Virginia, campus were horrifying, even to someone experiencing the hell of war.

Travis then spoke about the terror he had seen on the faces of countless civilians, including children, in Fallujah. He explained that like the Spartan warriors portrayed in
300
, his Marines and the Iraqi soldiers were protecting those who could not protect themselves.

“Dad, for the Spartans, there was no greater honor than to fight and defend your country and its freedoms,” Travis said.

As their conversation wrapped up, Tom, who was deeply moved by his son's resolve, told Travis he was proud of him.

“I love you, buddy,” he said.

The poor cell phone connection cut out before Travis heard his father's words. Though Tom was disappointed, he didn't fret. He knew he would talk to his son again soon.

On the next day, April 23, 2007, Travis was involved in a chaotic firefight, during which he braved enemy gunfire and helped save the lives of two Marines. During daily street fights in Fallujah, Travis wasn't imitating a Spartan warrior. He was one.

6

THE PIZZA SLICE

T
he morning of April 29, 2007, in Doylestown, Pennsylvania, couldn't have been more glorious. Spring was finally upon the Philadelphia suburb, and the start of this particular Sunday, with its bright sunshine and barely noticeable chill, may have been the most beautiful morning yet.

Tom and Janet Manion were engaged in their normal Sunday morning routine: having coffee on stools in their large second-floor kitchen, which opens up onto a deck overlooking a big, green backyard and tall trees. They had sat out on the patio earlier that morning, but now they were back inside reading sections of the Sunday
Philadelphia Inquirer
.

On the living room television, visible from the island in the center of the kitchen where the couple were sitting, Tim Russert was interviewing Senator Joe Biden—a Democratic candidate for the upcoming 2008 presidential election—on NBC's
Meet the Press
. Both parents looked up when Russert asked a particularly pointed question about the Iraq war.

“Do you believe the war is lost?” the host inquired, paraphrasing Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid, who had made the controversial proclamation a little over a week earlier on the Senate floor.

“This is not a game show, where you know . . . a football game. What this is about is we have lost 3,300 dead, we have 24,000 wounded . . . and we still have an opportunity to deal with the possibility of not trading a dictator for chaos . . . but it will not happen unless we have a serious change in our operating strategic premise,”
the future vice president said.

In the spring of 2007, everyone in Washington had strong opinions and/or talking points about Iraq, especially after President Bush's recent troop surge and the dawn of the 2008 campaign. But almost no politician had the insight of Tom's son, who was in his second combat tour in the volatile Al Anbar province, where thousands of Marines were executing the new surge strategy. As Senator Biden spoke to Russert, all Tom heard was Travis's impassioned words during that recent satellite phone call.

“We're close to getting the job done, Dad,” Travis had said.

Janet was also thinking about her son, but in different terms. As Biden spoke, she put her elbows on the kitchen island, bowed her head, and thought about what Travis might be doing in Fallujah at that very moment.

“Lord, please keep him safe,” she prayed while looking at her watch, which was set to Baghdad time.