Dick Couch, George Galdorisi
Tom Clancy Presents: Act of Valor
DEDICATION
This book is dedicated to the men and women of the United States Special Operations Command, who for the last ten years, and counting, have been on continuous deployment in harm’s way. Their service and their sacrifice, together with that of their sister armed services, have kept our nation safe and free from a recurrence of the events of 9/11.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The authors would like to thank their agent, John Silbersack of the Trident Media Group, who in true Navy SEAL fashion — and against heavy odds — hung in there and completed his mission to make this book a reality.
FOREWORD
Navy SEALs are Olympic athletes that kill people for a living. But they never get to stand up on a podium at the end of the race, heads bowed in anticipation of a gold medal, while the national anthem plays overhead. They are the most special breed of Americans. They typically pass unnoticed to civilians, but are almost instantly recognizable to one another — even if they have never met before. They don’t stand out, spin webs out of their wrists, or wear capes when they work. They breathe and bleed like the rest of us, but they live life differently and that’s what distinguishes them.
BUD/S (Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL) Training is perhaps the most challenging training program known to man. The dropout rate is almost 80 percent of those invited to participate, and if you’re part of that roughly 20 percent who graduate, you’ve earned yourself a place atop my list of most respected individuals on the planet. The SEALs risk their lives protecting the freedoms and privileges too many of us take for granted. They are most deserving of our deepest and most sincere respect and thanks, yet it goes against their nature to seek appreciation or recognition. We rarely hear or read about their successes (with some rather notable exceptions), but their real or imaginary failures make front page news. The modest amount we pay these guys is most certainly not enough.
Most people are generally aware that SEALs are gifted athletes, but they are not just fighters, they are thinkers as well. I have had the privilege of getting to know several SEALs and one of the first things I noticed about them is that they’re really smart. And they’re really brave. They consider it a privilege to be an American citizen and are willing to put their lives on the line and do whatever is asked of them when duty calls, at any time or place. It takes a special type of individual indeed to jump out of a cargo plane, let alone into pitch black darkness in a dangerous foreign land, carrying one hundred pounds of gear while temperatures hover below zero. Fortunately their survival rate is incredibly high — and but for two incredibly disheartening helicopter crashes, this rate would be even higher.
When I first learned about the plans the SEALs had to make the Act of Valor movie and accompanying novelization, I immediately wanted to support the project in any and every possible way. The events in this book and movie may not always be easy to read about or watch, but it is important for us to get a glimpse into the lives of these courageous Americans, and to gain a deeper appreciation for the sacrifices they make for us.
We have an obligation to honor the SEALs and their families — not just in the event that we are fortunate enough to meet any of them one day, but by living our lives to the fullest, enjoying and preserving the liberties afforded to us because of their work.
And the next time you see one of our nation’s young champions bowing for a medal at the Olympic games, while his or her tearful and joyous family looks on, perhaps you might take a moment to consider a similarly talented but entirely different set of champions, working anoighnymously in darkness overseas. Champions whose families go to sleep each night wondering when, or if, they will see them again.
Read the book. See the movie. If you are inspired by what you read and see, please consider joining me in making a donation to the Navy SEAL Foundation at: nswfoundation.org.
Thank you.
ONE
Lieutenant Roark Engel stood with his hands on the back of his head while Chief Dave Nolan moved around behind him, systematically running hands over his body, checking each fastening, pulling here and tugging there. Nolan finished with the main chute and stepped again to Engel’s front, lifting the reserve with a jerk to check that it was securely attached to the torso harness. He cinched up the crotch straps with a violent jerk. Engel winced and staggered a bit to keep his balance but kept his hands on his head.
“Feeling a little aggressive this morning, are we, Chief?”
“Hey, Boss, just trying to keep your personal equipment intact in case you have a bad opening. You know,” he continued with a grin, “I did tell Jackie that I’d look out for you. That means having your back in a firefight as well as protecting your cods in case you’re upside down when your chute opens. You just may need them in the future.”
Engel started to say something, then refrained. Nolan slapped him on the helmet, stepped back, and put his hands to his own helmet. Engel returned the grin, then began a jumpmaster inspection of Nolan. Engel was methodical and thorough, but not all that gentle. It was a game between them, but in the process of the game, they inspected each other thoroughly.
Once finished with Nolan, Engel then began to work down one stick of seven parachutists, Nolan the other. There were other jumpmaster-qualified SEALs in the platoon, but both Engel and Nolan liked the ritual of inspecting their men. Today was one of the rare times when the platoon would jump Hollywood, meaning they would do so without equipment, and they would jump in the daytime. This evolution was a bonus jump with no training objective or requirement. The serious airborne portion of the deployment workup, which included the night-equipment jumps and the water jumps that led into full-mission profile training, were now behind them. Indeed, all of the pre-deployment work was behind them. Their bags were packed, so to speak, which meant that their operational equipment — weapons, dive gear, parachutes, mission-support equipment, and all the rest of the necessary combat support gear that keeps a SEAL platoon in the fight while deployed — was palletized and ready for loading onto the transport aircraft. The Bandito Platoon was ready for war.
Roark Engel was the platoon officer and Dave Nolan was the platoon chief, or senior enlisted SEAL. They were the leaders for Delta Platoon, SEAL Team Seven. The Bandito nickname had come about years ago during one of the platoon’s trips to Baja California for off-road motorcycling in the desert. There was a cantina where they often stopped for a beer after a ride. During one of those stops, the proprietress calledhe d them the Yankee Banditos, and the name had stuck.
After the head-to-toe jumpmaster inspections were completed, Engel and Nolan led both sticks of SEALs up the ramp of the big C-130H Hercules transport. As stick or squad leaders for this jump, Engel and Nolan would be the last out. The jump and the timing of it had been carefully planned. The platoon SEALs had just reported back from their pre-deployment leave, so they had scheduled this non-equipment, daylight, low-altitude jump — a hop and pop. They all wore basic military HALO rigs, but they would not be jumping from any great height. After close to a year of training and preparation, it was time to refocus the platoon on deployment. The simplicity of a Hollywood jump would serve to ease the platoon SEALs back into their routine, with none of the stress and logistics of a night combat equipment jump, which was their norm. Most of their night combat jumps were at the front end of a three-to-five-day training mission, in which they humped for long distances with a hundred pounds of gear and slept for only an hour or two a night. This jump was just for the fun of it — for the brotherhood.