When I get sad, I write. I’ve been sad a lot, so I’ve been writing a lot.
Today, I’m sad thinking about our two lost SEAL Team members who were in the line of duty on the Arabian Sea off the Somalian coast on January 11. I feel deeply for them, their teammates, and their families. I have a little bit of history with SEAL Team guys, having lived for several years in Norfolk, where one of the views across the water from my window was the headquarters of our nation’s even-numbered teams (the odd-numbered teams are in San Diego).
The place is obviously all-Navy as well as America’s headquarters for NATO, which made for some interesting friends. Retired senior and active-duty officials populated my neighborhood. My neighbor was a French Admiral stationed at NATO with whom I spent many a lively evening, honing my French skills (though he’s fluent in English). A lot of other folks worked at the Newport News shipyard building the USS Gerald Ford and the other next-generation ships. Some of the best people I’ve ever known.
But I have never met more interesting, intense, and serious people than the many SEAL Team members, retired and active, who were all around. Make no mistake — they don’t walk around touting their Special Forces status, but one makes friends and one learns how to spot them after a while.
Though I’m no longer in Norfolk, I stay in touch with my Navy friends there. I was speaking with a former member of Team Six today, which spurred this column. I don’t use names, but his son was a part of the search party for our lost men. Sadly, that search is coming to an unhappy end.
A longtime friend and colleague was in command of the USS Cole at the time of the attack, and I’ve heard firsthand stories from him of pulling his sailors out of the water. The stories are chilling. We all know what happened on the heels of the Cole attack. We must be relentless in this messed up region of the world. Our lost SEALs are just a reminder.
It also makes me think of an evening I spent with a former member of Team Ten and his wife who, as we were saying goodbye, put his hand out for a shake and had a challenge coin in his hand. To say it is a treasure would be an understatement. I was telling my guy from Tea Six earlier that you’d have thought he’d handed me a million dollars.
These Americans are a cut above and outstanding role models. Proud? Yes. Patriotic? Big time. Discreet? Yes. Studly? Earned. Arrogant? No.
I saw a drunk guy once in a bar in Norfolk claiming to be on a Team — but clearly wasn’t — while hitting on a girl. There happened to be a Team guy there who overheard it and finally whispered something into the guy’s ear as he gently escorted him to the door. Gently. They protect their roles because they are so hard-earned and so hard-fought.
That’s the SEAL culture. This is why we spend so much time and energy developing these fine Americans who truly give all and ask nothing. Let us be grateful for all of our service members and veterans, but let us be especially grateful right now for Navy Special Warfare Operator 1st Class Christopher J. Chambers and Navy Special Warfare Operator 2nd Class Nathan Gage Ingram. I use their names only because the Navy has released them.
In these dangerous and strange times, a divided America which sometimes seems at war with itself, needs to get its house in order. I might be missing something but where is our Commander-in-Chief? Has he mentioned our two fallen warriors? Does he know it even happened? My friend and his son sure do.
Focus, people. Look to each other, not away from each other. As another friend Michael Ledeen often says, “Faster, please.”