Tom Sileo

by Brothers Forever

  With fifty-eight combat missions under his belt in Afghanistan, everyone trusted Brendan, and confidence was strong throughout the SEAL Team Three platoon. It was September now, and their six-month deployment would soon be over. Though still committed to their mission, their excitement about finally returning to Coronado to see their wives, fiancées, and girlfriends was palpable.

  On September 11, 2010, the ninth anniversary of the 9/11 attacks, Brendan sent an e-mail from Afghanistan to Sarver in Iraq. Another SEAL team was about to arrive on Brendan’s FOB, which meant that after a few weeks of getting them acclimated to the area and its terrain, Loon-Dog and his men would be going home.

  “I am on the last damn flight out of here,” Brendan wrote to Sarver. “I cannot wait to get back.”

  Brendan and Amy had big things to discuss upon his return to San Diego. They had just bought their first house, so perhaps it was time to discuss starting a family. The possibilities were endless, as both were young, bright, and successful. Most important, though, Brendan and Amy were in love.

  The next time he went to Afghanistan or Iraq, Brendan would be his platoon’s officer in charge, which carried even greater responsibilities that the SEAL couldn’t wait to tackle. But first he needed to spend time with his wife, who had already endured two combat deployments during two short years of marriage.

  On the Sunday before his fifty-ninth combat mission in Afghanistan, which would begin on Tuesday, September 21, 2010, Brendan called home an unprecedented three times. Amy hadn’t heard this kind of excitement in her husband’s voice since he and Sarver were about to come home from Iraq in 2008. She told him she was in the car with Ali, the wife of Brendan’s brother Steve.

  “We just got some ice cream, but we forgot my rainbow sprinkles, so we’re stopping by the store to get some,” Amy said.

  As they drove through the palm-tree-lined streets of San Diego, laughter filled the car as Brendan responded with a joke.

  “What’s up with this?” Brendan said to Ali. “Are you trying to ruin my wife’s figure while I’m stuck over here?”

  “Oh whatever!” Amy said. “I’m doing Barry’s Bootcamp right now, so I’ll kick your butt when you get back!”

  “Naah, I think I’ll just have to come to one of your classes and show them a real workout,” Brendan joked. “Seriously though, enjoy your ice cream and save me some of those sprinkles.”

  After another phone call in the middle of the day, Brendan talked to Amy again at night, which was already morning in Afghanistan.

  “Hey, I meant to tell you, there’s another SEAL here with me whose wife is dealing with his first combat deployment,” Brendan said. “It’s been tough on them while he’s been away, so I was wondering if I could give him your e-mail address to give to his wife, just so you can give her tips on how to handle things.”

  Brendan was looking out for a teammate and his family, who were still adjusting to a demanding lifestyle that few outside the military and special operations communities could comprehend.

  “Of course I will,” Amy said. “Give her my e-mail address, and I’ll make sure to get in touch.”

  “Thanks, you’re the best,” Brendan said. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too,” Amy said. “See you later.”

  “Yep, see you later,” Brendan said.

  On Monday, Amy and Brendan exchanged e-mails. The six months that Amy dreaded were coming to a close, and finally they would be living together again as husband and wife. Brendan could barely contain himself during his last reply before the mission:

  CAN’T WAIT TO GET HOME AND GO ON A LONG OVERDUE VACATION WITH YOU!! I’ll call you when I get back from my op.

  Love ya, Miss you

  —Me

  September 21, 2010, started like almost any other day. A front-page headline in that day’s San Diego Union-Tribune read, “Recession’s End Brings Little Joy: Official declaration that downturn ended in June ’09 belies persistently high jobless rate, slow recovery.” With millions still out of work after the previous year’s economic meltdown, the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq had long since taken a backseat to what most Americans regarded as a more pressing, immediate concern.

  Just after midnight in Afghanistan, Brendan’s Tuesday started as normally as it could for a Navy SEAL at war. After putting on his camouflage uniform, backpack, pouch, and a tan ball cap that he wore backward, Brendan hooked up his radio; petted the dog that he had brought back from the war-torn village; and headed outside to meet his SEAL Team Three teammates, another group of US Army soldiers, and three UH-60 Black Hawk helicopters.

  Several members of SEAL Team Four, who had recently arrived in Afghanistan to relieve Brendan’s platoon at the end of their deployment, were also gathered near the choppers. After accompanying their successors on this mission, Brendan and his fellow SEALs were going home. After the mission the SEAL Team Three platoon would fly by helicopter to Kandahar, where they would be met by C-17 aircraft and flown out of Afghanistan.

  Before most missions, Brendan’s platoon would huddle for a quick prayer before giving each other high fives, hugs, and back slaps. Before the last few missions, however, the SEALs had forgotten to gather and say a few words, which prompted one team member, Petty Officer First Class Nolan, to ask for everyone’s attention now.

  Before saying a prayer, Nolan showed his fellow SEALs and soldiers the cover of a book written about Corporal Pat Tillman, the former NFL football star who turned down a three-year, $3.6 million contract offer by the Arizona Cardinals to join the US Army after 9/11. The twenty-seven-year-old Army Ranger was killed in a friendly fire incident on April 22, 2004, while serving in Afghanistan. Brendan had been moved by Tillman’s courage and had spoken about the fallen hero several times with Travis, who had listed the football player turned warrior as one of his role models in his spiral notebook at Navy.

  After Nolan read a short passage from the Tillman book and said a prayer, it was time for the mission to begin.

  “Stay safe out there, Loon-Dog,” Lieutenant Esposito said to Brendan.

  “You too, brother,” he said. “See you back here.”

  After boarding the chopper Brendan, who had shaved off his beard since blending in with the locals wouldn’t be required during this final mission, was calm and alert. As long as he stuck to his training and looked out for his men, they would get through another challenging, unpredictable night. Soon, probably in about a week, he would be home in Amy’s arms.

  Brendan’s assignment, in support of Operation Sea Serpent—an ongoing, joint antiterror assault—was to watch over the village of Ayatalah in the mountainous, southeastern Afghanistan province of Zabul. As on other tactical over watch missions, on this one Brendan and his team would serve as guardian angels, much like when Travis held the roof after the chlorine attack in Fallujah. No matter what transpired in the darkness below, Brendan and his SEALs, equipped with night vision equipment, would be watching.

  Quiet and focused, Lieutenant Brendan Looney flew above the skies of Afghanistan on the fifty-ninth combat mission of his fourth overseas deployment. As bright moonlight shined into the chopper through the war zone’s soaring mountains, the words “Spartan, Hero, Leader” reflected from the bracelet Brendan always wore on his right wrist. Moments from landing on top of a mountain, the SEALs and soldiers aboard the chopper unhooked their safety belts and prepared to dismount.

  Suddenly a terrible, piercing sound stunned everyone aboard the helicopter, which rapidly tumbled down a jagged, steep cliff before plunging into the darkness. The frantic moments that ensued were harrowing, dreadful, and tragic.

  The next day the US military released two official reports to the American public:

  The Department of Defense announced today the deaths of five soldiers who died in a helicopter crash Sept. 21 during combat operations in Zabul province, Afghanistan, while supporting Operation Enduring Freedom. All soldiers were assigned to 101st Combat Aviation Brigade, 101st Airborne Division (Air A
ssault), Fort Campbell, Ky.

  Killed were:

  Lt. Col. Robert F. Baldwin, 39, of Muscatine, Iowa

  Chief Warrant Officer Matthew G. Wagstaff, 34, of Orem, Utah

  Chief Warrant Officer Jonah D. McClellan, 26, of St. Louis Park, Minn.

  Staff Sgt. Joshua D. Powell, 25, of Pleasant Plains, Ill.

  Sgt. Marvin R. Calhoun Jr., 23, of Elkhart, Ind.

  As “Screaming Eagles” of the Army’s storied 101st Airborne Division community mourned the tragedy, word was quickly spreading among Navy SEALs stationed in Afghanistan, Iraq, Virginia, and California that four of their warrior brothers were also killed during the combat mission. The Pentagon’s official announcement left the entire US Navy special operations community reeling in stunned disbelief:

  The Department of Defense announced today the deaths of four sailors who died in a helicopter crash Sept. 21 during combat operations in the Zabul province, Afghanistan, while supporting Operation Enduring Freedom.

  Killed were:

  LT (SEAL) Brendan J. Looney, 29, of Owings, Md., assigned to a West Coast-based SEAL Team.

  Senior Chief Petty Officer David B. McLendon, 30, of Thomasville, Ga., assigned to an East Coast-based Naval Special Warfare unit.

  Petty Officer 2nd Class (SEAL) Adam O. Smith, 26, of Hurland, Mo., assigned to an East Coast-based SEAL Team.

  Petty Officer 3rd Class (SEAL) Denis C. Miranda, 24, of Toms River, N.J., assigned to an East Coast-based SEAL Team.

  To Amy, Brendan was a loving husband, soul mate, and best friend.

  To Kevin and Maureen, he was a loyal, brave son.

  To Steve, Billy, Bridget, Erin, and Kellie, he was a trusted, caring big brother.

  To fellow Navy SEALs, he was Loon-Dog.

  To Janet and Tom, he was like a second son.

  To Travis, he was the brother he never had.

  To everyone, Brendan embodied the three words reflecting from his wrist during his final, courageous moments: “Spartan, Hero, Leader.”

  13

  NO REGRETS

  “If you make the most of what you are doing, there is no way to regret what you are doing,” Brendan had often said.

  The funeral of Lieutenant Brendan Looney was a time for grief, but not regrets. Just like his dear friend three and a half years earlier, Brendan had died doing exactly what he wanted to do in life: serving his country and protecting others.

  The Looney house was already packed by the time Tom and Janet finished their numb, tearful drive from Doylestown, Pennsylvania, to Silver Spring, Maryland. The ride was mostly silent, as the death of Travis’s great friend was a nightmare that neither had anticipated. Janet, who had fallen on the floor screaming “Not Brendan!” after getting off the phone with Brendan’s mother earlier that day, still hadn’t come to grips with the realization that lightning could indeed strike twice.

  Tom and Janet spent time comforting Brendan’s mom, Maureen, his dad, Kevin, and Brendan’s five siblings. On the day Brendan’s grief-stricken wife arrived on the East Coast, Janet went straight to the couch, where Maureen, Amy, and Amy’s mom, Christina Palmer, were sitting quiet and still.

  Upon learning of Brendan’s death in San Diego, a fellow Navy SEAL whom Brendan had met in BUD/S training, Lieutenant Flynn Cochran, had rushed over to Amy’s house with his wife, Jamie, to help guide the stunned widow through the painful process, then flew with her to Maryland. Ever since Amy had first received the tragic news, she had been repeatedly asking to see two people in addition to her mother and mother-in-law. The first was Janet Manion, and the second was Rob Sarver, who was still deployed in Iraq.

  Brendan’s close friend and fellow Navy SEAL was preparing to leave Ramadi for a combat mission when he heard about a crash in Afghanistan that had killed nine NATO service members. After carrying on with his responsibilities, Sarver heard chatter on base about someone from SEAL Team Three being on board. A few minutes later, there were rumors that the fallen team member was, in fact, an officer.

  There weren’t many SEAL Team Three lieutenants deployed to Iraq and Afghanistan at the time, which first put the terrible thought into Sarver’s mind that something might have happened to Brendan. Adding to Sarver’s anxiety, all communication lines at his base were shut down until further notice due to ongoing security concerns. Even if Brendan had been killed or injured in the crash, there was virtually no way for Sarver, one of his best friends, to find out.

  A few minutes later, a teammate tapped Sarver on the shoulder.

  “Lieutenant, the XO [Executive Officer] wants to speak with you,” he said.

  Sarver, who had broken the terrible news of Travis’s death to Brendan, slumped into his chair as the XO took a deep breath.

  “Lieutenant Brendan Looney was killed in Afghanistan,” he said. “We’re very sorry for your loss, and we also apologize that it took so long for us to inform you, as we didn’t realize how well you knew Brendan until a few minutes ago. The Looney family wants you in Maryland as soon as possible. What can we do to help?”

  His mind racing and heart pounding, Sarver searched for something that made sense as his eyes welled up with tears. Somehow, some way, he had to reach Amy.

  “Sir, I really need a secure telephone line and Internet access,” Sarver said. “And I need to know when I’m getting out of here.”

  “We’ll get you on the next flight,” the XO said, again offering his condolences.

  Still in San Diego before embarking on what would certainly be an exhausting, panic-filled cross-country flight, Amy didn’t believe Brendan was dead, despite the words of her casualty assistance officer and both of Brendan’s parents, who had also been notified. Surrounded by a distraught Steve Looney, his wife, Ali, Navy SEALs and their wives, and numerous friends, Amy focused on reminders of Brendan that filled their home, including the two confused, barking dogs. Brendan wasn’t dead; this all had to be some sort of mistake. He was just here.

  Suddenly Amy’s cell phone rang. As the ringtone sounded, Brendan’s wife looked at the screen and saw the same five-digit security code that appeared whenever her husband called from overseas. He’s alive!

  “It’s Brendan!” Amy shouted as the others in the room paused and shot each other wide-eyed looks while gently shaking their heads. “I told you!”

  “BRENDAN?!” Amy said after pressing the “talk” button.

  “Amy, this is Rob,” Sarver said. “I’m so sorry.”

  Hearing Sarver’s voice was harder, in many ways, than listening to the casualty assistance officer’s official notification of Brendan’s death.

  “Rob, . . . where is Brendan?” Amy sobbed. “Can you please tell me what the hell is really going on here?”

  “I don’t know the details yet,” Sarver said, also starting to cry. “But my XO just told me that Brendan didn’t make it.

  “Amy, I am so, so, so sorry,” he repeated over and over.

  Screams, much like the horrible shrieks that had echoed in the Manions’ neighborhood on the day Travis was killed, filled Brendan and Amy’s San Diego home. The sound was horrifying, even to Navy SEALs accustomed to loud firefights.

  Hearing Sarver’s words did not fully dash Amy’s hopes of getting a phone call from Brendan or even seeing him walk through the front door. Denial was the only wall separating her from the unthinkable.

  Devastated after the most difficult phone conversation of his life, Sarver boarded a massive C-17 cargo plane, empty except for two pilots, bound for Germany and then the United States. For the next twenty-one hours, all he could think of was Amy’s misery.

  The second person Amy asked for was Janet. Her arrival in Maryland not only comforted Maureen and Kevin, who had asked her and Tom to come, but gave Amy a source of strength who could fully relate to her pain.

  “Oh Amy,” said Janet, in tears but holding herself together. “I am so sorry, honey.”

  “Janet,” Amy said. “I still don’t understand what’s going on. Where is he?”

  Af
ter a short pause and a few more tears, Janet took Amy’s hand.

  “Brendan is with Travis,” the still-grieving mother said. “And now we’re here with you, and we’ll be here as long as you and Maureen need us.”

  The pain was unbearable. In her in-laws’ family room, Amy collapsed into the arms of Travis’s mother.

  Janet and Tom were mindful of the periodic need for Amy and Brendan’s family to grieve alone. Though they were at the Looney house by day, the Manions would retreat to their house in Annapolis at night.

  Even three and a half years after Travis’s death, staying there still made Janet uncomfortable. Now, after Brendan’s passing, feelings of uneasiness were even more prevalent than during those difficult hours between the ceremony and reception for Amy and Brendan’s wedding.

  The house was like a haunted museum. Day and night, Janet could picture Travis and Brendan everywhere, especially on the back porch, where they would tell jokes and drink beer after long, competitive runs and bike rides. The boys were so much alike and such close friends. They were just here.

  Upon returning to Silver Spring, Janet would hug Brendan’s sisters and mother before sitting down next to Amy, Maureen, and Christina on the couch. Janet’s right hand would then gently grasp Amy’s. Janet’s left hand would tightly clutch the gold Navy SEAL trident that Brendan had given her at his wedding reception.

  Amy asked Janet how to function without Brendan, and whether it was even worth trying. Though sympathetic, Janet also struck a motherly tone when she reminded Amy that everyone in the house, including Maureen and Christina, would make sure she was never alone.

  In one of the most dreadful, grief-stricken situations imaginable, something remarkable was also happening in the Looney family’s Silver Spring home. Despite indescribable misery, one Gold Star family was comforting another.