Tom Sileo (25 page)

Ryan sat in the hallway bathroom, makeup smeared on her face. Ever since she had collapsed in the driveway, she was barely aware of her surroundings.
This has to be a bad dream
.

The Manions' phone had been ringing off the hook since the news began to spread. The official casualty notice had been released to the public shortly after the family was notified, prompting calls from some Philadelphia TV stations and area newspapers. Most of the calls, however, were from relatives and friends, who spoke to Janet's sister, Annette.

When the phone rang for what had to be the hundredth time, Tom picked up the cordless, which was sitting next to him on the patio table.

“Hello,” he said in a subdued monotone.

“Mr. Manion, sir, is that you?” a young man said on the other end of the line.

“Yes, it is,” Tom said.

“This is Brendan. I'm so sorry.”

Getting up from his chair, Tom walked inside the house and toward the bedroom as he thanked Brendan for calling and told
him there were still no details about what had happened. All they knew was that Travis was killed in action in Al Anbar province.

“Janet,” Tom said, opening the door. “Brendan is on the phone.”

Tom and Janet shared the phone as they listened to the emotions of Travis's former roommate on the other line. For the first time all day, Janet and Tom were the ones lending comfort.

“Brendan, we love you,” Janet said, her voice shaking. “You are such a good friend.”

“I love you, too,” Brendan said. “I am coming out there to be with all of you.”

Tom knew Brendan was about to start BUD/S training and realized it wasn't something an aspiring Navy SEAL could simply leave and return to.

“No, buddy, you need to stay focused on what you're doing out there,” Tom said. “You gotta do your training or they might never let you back in.”

“Sir, I understand, and I'm not going to quit,” Brendan said. “But I have to fly east and be there for Travis. . . . I'm sure they'll let me come back.”

“Brendan,” Janet said in the most motherly, authoritative voice she could muster given the tragic circumstances. “You need to stay there and finish what you've started.”

“I understand what you're going through,” Tom said. “We haven't even like . . . made sense of all this yet.”

“But you've got to think about what Travis would want,” Janet said.

Hanging up after one of the most difficult conversations of his life, Brendan told Sarver he was ready to head over to the house on Imperial Beach. As they left Naval Amphibious Base Coronado and crossed over the bay, it began to hit Brendan that he would never get to hang out on the island with Travis, as they had excitedly discussed via e-mail in February.

As night fell in Pennsylvania, Janet and Tom lay next to one another in their bed. Silence filled the room, but both were still wide awake. For moments at a time, they each pondered the uncertainty of the next few days.

When will Travis's casket arrive at Dover?

Will we get to see his body?

What in God's name happened to our son?

Yet this was not a night for reasoning or logic. It was a time for grief.

“Mom, Dad?” Ryan asked, slowly cracking open her parents' door. “Is it okay if I sleep in here?”

As April 29, 2007, came to a close, a married, twenty-seven-year-old mother lay between her parents, just like when she was a little girl. A single combat patrol in the notorious Pizza Slice of Fallujah, Iraq, had changed everything for Tom, Janet, and Ryan Manion.

Sitting at the Imperial Beach house's shared computer with an untouched beer that had been out of the refrigerator for hours, Brendan Looney thought about his fallen friend and his heartfelt conversation with the Manions. The house was quiet, except for the ocean waves and the barely audible sound of music playing on the kitchen radio.

His eyes still red from crying, Brendan looked through the care package he had been preparing to send Travis, which included dozens of sports and fitness magazines. He then reread the last e-mail he had received from Travis, sent a week and a half before from Camp Fallujah:

          
Friends and Family,

                
We are a little over the halfway point of deployment. We have been pretty busy and working hard. It seems I have less
free time than I did last year, but I do take the time to read all the e-mails and open all the packages sent. Thanks for all the support (my guys, the Iraqis, and I really appreciate the packages). Also, it's been good to see a lot of familiar faces as new units are rotating in. My Battalion (Recon) has arrived and they're ready to get to work-It was great to see them as well as some other Marines I know.

                
Our Iraqi battalion has had some tough times lately but they are getting back on track. My company has really done well bouncing back and showing their dedication to the mission. I have attached some pictures from a recent operation.

                
Again, it's definitely been busy (and I apologize for the delay between updates), but the hard work definitely makes the time go by and keeps us all focused on the job at hand. I'm excited to see the deployment end strong and leave the Iraqi battalion at a higher level than when we arrived. I miss you guys and I'm looking forward to seeing you soon.

          
Semper Fi,

          
Travis

Taking a deep breath, Brendan sat down on a couch across from where Sarver was studying his BUD/S training manual. Brendan hadn't said a word in several hours. He suddenly spoke up, prompting Sarver to put down the manual and focus squarely on his roommate.

“It hurts, man,” Brendan said. “But Trav would want us to go out there and get after it.”

“Damn right,” Sarver said with a nod. “Let's do this.”

As the morning of Monday, April 30, dawned in Pennsylvania, the Pentagon issued one of the day's ten press releases about US troops killed in Afghanistan and Iraq:

       
The Department of Defense announced today the death of a Marine who was supporting Operation Iraqi Freedom.

             
1st Lt. Travis L. Manion, 26, of Doylestown, PA., died April 29 while conducting combat operations in Al Anbar province, Iraq. Manion was assigned to 1st Reconnaissance Battalion, 1st Marine Division, I Marine Expeditionary Force, Camp Pendleton, Calif.

From Doylestown, Pennsylvania, all the way to Wichita, Kansas—the hometown of twenty-one-year-old US Army Sergeant Alex Funcheon, who was killed in a Baghdad IED attack alongside two fellow soldiers on the same day as Travis—the horrors of war transported a multitude of American families to desolate islands of confusion, anger, and grief.

As the Manions lay in bed without having slept a single wink, birds started to chirp outside the master bedroom window and the local paper boy was making his early morning rounds. Without knowing it was his day's most significant toss, he flung a newspaper into the driveway of Tom and Janet Manion's home. On the front page was Travis's smiling face.

8

LIVE FOREVER

E
xcept for stirring sounds of bagpipes and occasional gusts of wind, Hangar 680 of Naval Air Station Joint Reserve Base Willow Grove was silent on May 3, 2007. On this sad Thursday afternoon during one of the Iraq war's most violent chapters, the flag-draped casket of First Lieutenant Travis Manion was coming home to Pennsylvania. Hundreds joined Tom, Janet, Ryan, and Dave for the ceremony, and all could feel its mixture of trepidation, sorrow, and pride.

It was a different atmosphere than earlier in the week at Dover Air Force Base in Delaware, when the grief-stricken Manion family had first welcomed Travis to American soil. Rather than being surrounded by loved ones, the Manions had stood alone in a massive hangar as six US Marines slowly carried Travis out of a large military jet. In 2007, no media coverage of these solemn ceremonies was allowed at Dover. The fallen hero's return to eastern Pennsylvania, the Manions decided, would be different.

Four days after the death of his only son, Tom stood in the front row of a large, hushed crowd in his clean, crisp Marine Corps uniform. Wearing his dress blue pants, white hat, and Navy blue jacket, Tom would have gladly traded his colonel's rank and every medal on his uniform to have one last conversation with Travis.
The father's anguish was matched only by his determination to honor Travis the right way, while showing the world that no sniper could ever gash the vein of his son's fighting spirit.

Tom's hand was clasping Janet's, who stood to his right with her head bowed. Wearing all black except for a Marine-colored scarf and a pair of gold earrings shaped like the Corps' distinctive Eagle, Globe, and Anchor, she had barely slept since the Gardners had arrived on her front doorstep with the nervous young Marine. Still, she shared her husband's resolve to honor Travis, even if seeing her son's casket for the first time in Dover had been the most painful moment of her life. All Janet wanted to do was hug her little boy, and hopefully, someone would soon let her.

Ryan, wearing a turquoise blouse and black skirt with dark sunglasses, held a small American flag in her right hand and her mom's hand in her left. Travis's older sister was also looking down as she awaited his return home, but she occasionally looked up with her tearful eyes at the many signs guests had made to honor Travis. One bright poster, held by Ryan and Travis's cousin Lauren Gretz said “Welcome home Travis!” in red cursive handwriting.