SEAL Team 666

29

Although buzzed from Fratty’s wake, they weren’t ready to call it quits. Walker and Laws liberated a cooler from a passed-out fisherman and headed down the beach. The lights of San Diego glowed in the distance like an earthbound galaxy. A barge bleeped its horn as it cruised forlornly down the middle of the empty harbor. They found a place to park, grabbed beers, and went down to the water.

McP’s had been closed for the wake and filled with SEALs old and new. Pictures and plaques adorned the walls. Team names and patches were everywhere. This was as much a museum to what it was to be part of a team as it was a bar. They drank beers and sang songs. They shared what stories they could about Fratty.

Then after a time, Holmes got serious. He pulled Walker aside, grabbed two beers, and took him down the beach a ways. They found a spot where only the surf and the stars could overhear. After Holmes opened the beers and passed one to Walker, he began.

“You might as well know that I knew your brother, Brian.”

Walker stopped drinking and started to ask a question, but then paused, seeing the serious look in Holmes’s eyes.

“In fact, not only did I know him, but I led the mission where he was killed.”

Walker lowered his beer slowly. “Like Fratty? And Chong?”

Holmes shook his head. “Not like them at all. They died performing their mission.”

The waves at night were a dark gray against an abysmal blue sky. Way out to sea, lights blinked from passing ships. The world seemed so large at moments like this, so improbably large. “So then how’d my brother die?”

“By disobeying orders.”

Walker glared at Holmes. The beer had become acid in his stomach. “So it was his fault? That’s convenient.”

Holmes took a slug of his beer and stared out to sea. “Your brother made a choice, much like you did on the boat. I told him to stay put, but he didn’t do it.”

“What happened?”

“We were on the road, chasing down a Taliban operative, and your brother set off an IED.”

“So where does the disobeying orders come in?”

“A group of kids was playing in the middle of the road. He was worried about them. We were in a natural ambush site. First he called to them, but they wouldn’t come, so he went to them.” Holmes took a final slug of his beer. “That’s when the IED went off.”

“Did he feel anything?”

“I doubt it. It was a very big bomb.”

Walker didn’t know what to say. He imagined his brother first trying to help the kids, then getting blown to bits. He took a slow sip of the acid in the bottle. Finally he asked, “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“It wasn’t the right time.”

“How come I feel like this is a lesson?”

Holmes turned to him. “Because everyone’s death should mean something. I’ve seen too many SEALs die, too many of our soldiers and sailors, too many bad guys. I’ve breathed death for so long I don’t know what life tastes like.” He stared hard at Walker for a moment, then turned and strode away. Walker stood there for a good ten minutes not knowing what to think or say.

Laws arrived bringing several beers, clinking together in his hands. He placed them in the sand, then retrieved one, opened it, and slung it back. “So he finally told you.”

Walker nodded. “You knew?”

“Yeah, I knew.”

“You didn’t say anything.”

“It was his to tell you.” He took another drink. “I would have told you eventually if he hadn’t gotten around to it.”

“I used to think my brother’s death meant something,” Walker said.

“Sometimes the death doesn’t mean anything except in context for the living. I think your brother’s death can help you understand the man. I didn’t know him, but I know people who did and they all say he was a great SEAL and a terrific guy. He was a shepherd without a flock. I think he punished himself for not being able to take care of you and sought out avenues to take care of others.”

“So you think he felt bad about leaving me behind?”

“Of course he did. Anyone would. But it sounds like he made the right decision. He would have been a terrible father figure when he was younger.”

“According to Holmes, my brother died saving children.”

Laws grinned as he drained another beer. He went over to the cooler, grabbed two more, brought them back, and passed one to Walker. “Listen, I’ve been around. I’ve seen death on four continents. There are three kinds of death in this world: those that we see coming and gladly embrace if it promotes the mission and/or saves lives; those we don’t see coming but know that our actions are inventing the possibility; and finally, those that are an absolute surprise. The measure of a man is in how he travels the path towards the inevitability of any one of those deaths. Because death is certain. By the very nature of our mission, we place ourselves in the second category. Your brother did just that. Sure, he disobeyed an order, but most of us would have done the same. Children of any race, creed, or religion are the progeny of us all.”

“Do you think that a part of him felt like he was doing something for me? Not for the me I am now, but for the me I was when I went into the orphanage?”

“Absolutely. He saw you in those kids. But that doesn’t make it your fault. You can’t control how someone else will act or deal with their own internal demons.”

“I know. It’s just that—”

“What?”

“I wish that I’d been able to tell him that I was never angry at him. That I loved him … that in my eyes, he was a great brother.”

Laws shook his head. “Shit, man. Don’t you think he knew it?”

“No. How could he?”

“Then all you can do is honor his actions and his name. Pay it back. Pay it forward. Remember that he saved those children and someday do the same.”

“That’s all I can do, isn’t it?”

“That’s all you can do.”

Then they proceeded to get totally shitfaced.