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"Hi, my name is Brad," he said shaking my hand.
His smile and eyes were warm and friendly, more president of a small city Rotary Club than the highly trained, extremely experienced and very lethal man I knew he was. He was a Navy SEAL team leader.
Unlike the guy who wrote the New Yorker piece a week ago, I actually went on a mission in Afghanistan with the gentlemen I'm writing about.
I bumped into Brad and his two companions the night before in the tactical operations center. They had just arrived and were wearing some seriously high end combat apparel.
"We're all way over dressed," the company commander said before he noticed me. "PTs are just fine for the walk through."
After inquiring about the time of the mission brief and walk through, I quickly exited the TOC. The next morning as I met up with the platoon I was going to embed with for the mission, the company commander said the SEALs wanted to introduce themselves and make sure I understood the OpSec.
It was not the first time I had bumped into SEALs, they were pretty common in Al Anbar province, Iraq. The rules are simple: keep the camera off them, don't be a tool.
Brad introduced me to two other SEALs, Andy and Peter. They were all in their mid or late thirties, probably team leaders with a rank of Sr. Chief or Master Chief. In their civilian gym shorts and t-shirts the trio looked more like they had showed up for the workout of the day at CrossFit gym than the briefing for major combat operation.
"You have been around so you know the rules right?" Brad asked, with the same friendly demeanor.
"Yeah, just keep the lens off you guys. I shoot on tape so if I get you by accident we can go back, look at it and record some black over it."
Brad looked at the other two as if to say, 'that was easy.'
"Great to meet you, JD, we'll see you out there. It will be a good time."
I headed back to my platoon and made sure to keep my camera pointed in the opposite direction of them.
The next day when the grunts staged up to head out on the mission the SEALs were the source of a lot speculation. What were three SEALs doing going along with a bunch of grunts? What kind of weapon is that? Where can you buy those pants? The weapon was an H&K 416. They told us the website where to buy the pants, but I'm keeping that secret. 5.11 Tactical pants used to be cool, then they became a part of the work uniform for the Defense Contract Management Agency. When the auditors start wearing something, you know the coolness factor is gone. No one ever did figure out what they were doing going on this mission with a bunch of grunts.
I strapped on my body armor and jumped up and down a few times, making sure everything fit well, was strapped on tight and didn't jangle.
"Nice kit, but that D ring will be target for the Chechen sniper," Peter said.
"I've been hearing about that guy for years," I said dryly, "he has a great marketing campaign."
Peter gave me a sly grin. THE Chechen sniper, emphasis on THE is something of a running gag among jaded multi-deployment vets. "No, no, no, that was some other sniper, not THE Chechen sniper." I took the D ring off when Peter wasn't looking.
For most of the mission I was with my platoon doing our thing. My first interaction with them was during a low-key tactical situation.
"Hey, me and the guys are gonna be up here," Brad said, leaning over my shoulder. "Try to keep the camera off us."
"No problem. But if you and Andy get positioned in the enemy's blind spot and start dropping dudes, I'm gonna get right behind you and film the whole thing."
Brad hit me with the smile again, "just as long as we can get copies of it."
Brad's first move after that was not to take overt control of the situation. He complimented the platoon sergeant on the smart decisions he made so far, then by way of asking a few questions, guided the sergeant into making some even better decisions.
In all the writing about the SEALs recently, that is something I think many people miss. Yes, SEALs are incredibly athletic and physically fit. They are some of the best gunfighters and tacticians in the business, but they are also very intelligent, articulate and polished. Their interpersonal communications skills could be highlighted by the Harvard Business Review.
On the surface they projected an image of deadly efficiency. They wore full beards and weapons ranging from brass knuckles to a hatchet. Yes, a hatchet. Chad and Andy were muscular enough to make me feel like a pipsqueak. Andy, in particular became the subject of a series of Chuck Norris two liners. "Andy was a SEAL...back when he first joined the Navy. Andy told me about his leave time...he thought Ranger school was kinda gay." But during the lag time Andy would pull out his Kindle and would flash a megawatt smile with own dry one liners. "Way to supress that rock."
Peter for his part had SEAL depricating quips like how he didn't let his guys handle power tools. They have a lot of practice and trigger time with their weapons, not so much with the trigger on a skil saw.
At one point I shot the breeze with Brad and explained how a mid-life crisis led me to become a combat cameraman.
"What does a guy like you do for a mid-life crisis?" I asked him.
"Get married, start a family, work at a bank."
That low key life is not far off from how they roll around on FOBs. Whenever I have spotted a real Budweiser Badge SEAL on base he blends in to the background wearing jeans and t-shirt, looking like he could be a guy who manages bottled water and MRE distribution at the supply yard. Albeit one who looks like he spends a lot of his off time in the gym.
They know they are that pinnacle of the warrior food chain, don't gloat about it and have a fondness for old fashioned grunts who do the grinding work of war. When we were in a secured area they would drift from one group of soldiers to another talking shop and patiently answering questions. They knew how to work a temporary patrol base like a politician works a room full of donors. Like I said, polished, but not a just a surface gleam, a type of shine that only comes from pure mettle.
The SEALs I met were not the one dimensional caricatures so often potrayed. One of them described to me how he wept when he learned Osama bin Laden had been killed. Another gave the shoulder hugging comfort of wise fellow warrior to a soldier describing the carnage of a previous tour. They are human beings. Men who have families, wives, children, mortages. They laugh, cry and bleed the same color as the private on his first deployment.
Deep down, I believe they are driven by love. Anger, aggression, hatred and revenge cannot sustain men who do what they do.
If he had wanted to, Brad could have had me moved to another unit where I would have sat on a mountain top observation post. But he took my measure and for some reason, trusted me.
After that mission I would see them off and on. Brad would give me big wave, Andy's hard set jaw would change to movie star smile and Peter would make the work seem mundane.
I don't think they were on the helicopter that went down, but my stomache sank when I read the first news flash. I don't know their real names, or where they are from just their faces and a glimpse their character. Thankfully I haven't seen their faces yet.
Brad, if you are reading this, I have a copy of that video clip you wanted.
(Note: I have always assumed the names I know them by to be pseudonyms, but changed them again just to be sure. I intenionally left out a ton of information and if you doubt I was actually there, I have officers and NCOs to back me up.)
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