“As a warrior, he strode like a giant across the battlefield of the eastern portion of Al Anbar Province.”
In 2008, then US Marine Lieutenant General John Allen visited Doylestown to present the Silver Star and Bronze Star with Valor to First Lieutenant Travis Manion’s family.
“When his unit was ambushed on that fateful day in April in Fallujah, when the Doc and his fellow Marine were shot down, Travis went forward,” General Allen said. “Under fire, Travis, absolutely fearless in his resolve to save his fellow warriors, left the safety of a covered position to suppress the enemy and extricate his wounded, and when he was hit, Travis was moving forward, selflessly exposing himself to enemy fire.”
Brendan never had the chance to say good-bye to Travis in person. General Allen, who had been leading US Marines in Fallujah on April 29, 2007, did. As Commandant of the US Naval Academy from 2001 to 2003, Allen knew Travis and shared another connection to the Manion family through Tom’s good friend General Dave Papak.
“I was unprepared for seeing Travis that day,” Allen later wrote to Papak, who had helped with the notification process and Travis’s homecoming. “Not unprepared for the circumstances or the human pieces of this, but seeing one of these young mids lying there. For me, the circle is now complete.”
In 2007, Travis left an indelible mark on a general who would later assume command of all US forces in Afghanistan.
“2007 was a remarkable year in Al Anbar. . . . It was the year that began the turning of that province, and in many ways the remainder of the war in Iraq followed what began in Al Anbar,” General Allen now said. “Travis was a part of that . . . a big part of what became known, and what historians are now calling ‘The Turning.’”
In 2008, Brendan picked up where his Naval Academy roommate had left off.
Lieutenant Brendan Looney, Honor Man of US Navy SEAL BUD/S Class 265 and a recent graduate of SQT Class 266, was tracing the footsteps of Travis, who the general said “strode like a giant across the eastern portion of Al Anbar province.” Newly married and in peak physical condition after earning his gold trident, Brendan eagerly joined SEAL Team Three in the middle of the elite special operations group’s Iraq deployment.
“Congratulations to the groom,” said Lieutenant Rob Sarver, who was already deployed and had not been able to leave Iraq to attend his friend’s wedding. “It’s really good to see you.”
“It’s good to be here,” Brendan said. “Let’s get to it.”
Brendan and Sarver had deployed to Fallujah before, but under vastly different circumstances, in 2006 as Navy officers. After transferring to special operations and enduring the rigors of BUD/S and SQT, being back in Iraq together as Navy SEALs was a special experience. Sarver, who had broken the tragic news after Travis was killed, also knew that for Brendan, being in Fallujah carried added significance.
Thanks to the sacrifices of Travis’s MiTT team and countless more American, Iraqi, and coalition troops who served in Al Anbar, the streets of Fallujah were much quieter than in the previous year. To be sure, some insurgents and terrorists still remained in the city and surrounding region. But the progress made was remarkable, and Brendan could now see the fruits of his Naval Academy roommate’s labor, which General Allen had noted in his presentation speech, up close.
“His training skills, his leadership, his personal example of heroism. . . . All these influences helped shape an entire battalion of this division,” General Allen had said. “And when Travis was killed in action, fighting alongside his beloved Marines and Iraqi warriors, the Iraqis reacted by naming one of their combat outposts for Travis. In all the time Americans have served with Iraqi forces, this has only happened twice.”
One of Brendan and Sarver’s primary responsibilities was meeting with key Iraqi leaders at various combat outposts to ensure that the critical area continued on a positive track. While most Americans probably don’t think of Navy SEALs as sitting down for meetings with foreign soldiers or politicians, the two officers spent many hours listening to Iraqis and giving them advice on how to work not only with US troops, but also with rival tribes and factions. Like Travis, Brendan cared for the Iraqi people and wanted to see the country succeed, which would be impossible without a relatively stable Al Anbar province.
Brendan e-mailed Janet from Iraq on September 10, 2008, the day before the seventh anniversary of the 9/11 attacks:
Mrs. Manion,
It was great seeing you guys at the wedding. I am glad you guys were able to make it. It meant a lot to both me and Amy to see you both there.
I am doing ok over here. Since arriving I have been tasked reviewing all the evals [evaluations] and awards for the command as well as work in the TOC [tactical operations center]. I am sure you have heard about the decreased violence out here and PIC (provincial Iraqi control) taking place in Al Anbar. To see how much different it is over here since last time is a true testament to the work that everyone over here has done.
I have not had the opportunity to get out to COP [Combat Outpost] Manion. On a trip out west to Al Asad [Airbase] though, while myself and Rob Sarver—another USNA ’04 guy who knew Travis—were waiting for our helo to show up, struck up a conversation with a young Lance Corporal. This young Marine was a MiTT member and had mentioned that he had just come from COP Manion.
When we heard that, I let him know that Travis was a good friend of mine and roommate during college. He said that he did not know him, but had only heard great things about [Travis]. He also said that there was a room at the COP dedicated to him with pictures. I just thought that you would like that story since Travis is still influencing the men and women over here.
Love,
Brendan
Sarver never asked Brendan what it felt like to be serving in the city where Travis had died, but he didn’t have to. He could see the significance in Brendan’s eyes.
Amy could also sense the impact being in Fallujah was having on her husband. She asked Brendan what a normal patrol was like and what he had to bring with him.
“Well, I always make sure I wear two things over here,” Brendan said. “I wear the bracelet Mrs. Manion gave me on my right wrist and my G-Shock watch with my wedding band attached to it on the other.
“You’re always with me here,” he continued. “And so is Trav.”
Brendan and Sarver, two of SEAL Team Three’s newest members, patrolled the city. Bonding with officers and enlisted SEALs alike, they were rotated into various assignments, much like rookies on a football team seeing their first playing time. The platoon that Brendan and Sarver accompanied on patrol would often have the new SEALs operate on the periphery to contain danger zones from the outside. If a firefight were to erupt, Brendan and his BUD/S roommate were always ready to strike with devastating, pinpoint effectiveness.
During the weeks when Brendan spent the most time on patrol, he and Sarver helped capture six suspected insurgents. With a calm, professional demeanor that quickly won the respect of his new teammates, Brendan ensured that the narrow streets Travis once helped rid of the enemy remained considerably safer than in previous years for Iraqi men, women, and children.
To SEAL Team Three, Brendan was bringing the mix of talent and determination that he and Travis had always pushed each other toward at the academy. Inside Fallujah gyms, fellow service members marveled at Brendan’s workout routine and sometimes collapsed while trying to follow along. If there were no night missions scheduled, Brendan would watch movies on his laptop and read. But before he relaxed, he always e-mailed Amy, who had moved across the country from Maryland to California shortly after they were engaged.
For Amy, the hardest parts of the deployment were the days between her husband’s e-mails or rare phone calls. She worried about Brendan and always wondered what he was doing, but was also supremely confident in the years of training that had prepared him for whatever could happen. Even in the hell of combat, there was no situation a Navy SEAL couldn’t handle, and Brendan’s constant refrain of “don’t worry, I’m fine” reinforced what she always told herself to believe. Still, the vivid memory of Travis’s funeral served as a painful reminder to Amy of the risks her husband was facing.
Even with more than 150,000 US troops deployed to Iraq and Afghanistan in 2008, only a tiny fraction of the population—less than 1 percent—had a spouse serving in a war zone. Not only was Amy part of a small community to which very few Americans could relate; she had watched Brendan leave for Fallujah, where Travis had died the previous year, less than forty-eight hours after a priest pronounced Brendan and Amy man and wife. As Amy, an East Coast native, settled into life and work in unfamiliar San Diego, the challenges she faced were extraordinary.
The new military wife also had several shining examples to follow. Amy could lean on the strength of her mother, Christina Palmer, who had raised Amy on her own while working full time. She also received constant support from the Looney family. In addition, Amy drew on the same approach that her husband brought to his duty as a Navy SEAL: “Be strong. Be accountable. Never complain.”
Heather Hojnacki, Rob Sarver’s girlfriend, was astonished by Amy’s adjustment to life as a military spouse. Heather had moved to California after meeting and falling in love with Sarver around the same time that Amy had moved. Like Amy, she barely knew anyone on the West Coast, and she had only met Brendan’s wife once, back in Annapolis. The second time they met was when Amy volunteered to pick her up at San Diego International Airport.
Amy took Heather under her wing right away. As Brendan and Sarver bonded in Fallujah, their significant others were growing closer in California, where Amy managed a retail store and Heather was starting law school a few hours away at Pepperdine University in Malibu.
Whenever Amy got an e-mail update or attended a meeting for the wives of deployed Navy SEALs, she would alert Heather, who as a girlfriend was not privy to the same real-time information. On most weekends, Sarver’s girlfriend drove down to check on Rob and Brendan’s house in Imperial Beach. She then met up with Amy, who took Heather to downtown San Diego for relaxing evenings to distract them both from the constant worry they were experiencing.
Over drinks one night, Sarver’s girlfriend expressed bewilderment at how Brendan’s wife could cope so calmly with such a difficult set of circumstances.
“I don’t know how you could have enjoyed your wedding,” Heather said.
Before and after Brendan left, Amy said, she tried not to let his dangerous job creep into every aspect of their lives.
“I just want to make the best of it,” Amy said. “We have to enjoy the time we have.”
Brendan was silent during several rides through the Pizza Slice. On multiple occasions, he and Sarver operated near the infamous Blackwater Bridge while navigating narrow roads riddled with huge potholes, possibly from IED attacks during Travis’s time in Fallujah.
Inside the once-hellish enclave where daytime patrols were once regarded as suicide missions, Sarver would occasionally look over at his fellow SEAL and wonder what he was thinking. Once again, he could see the impact on Brendan by simply looking into his steely, focused eyes.
For three and a half months Brendan, Sarver, and their fellow SEALs patrolled Fallujah’s streets, where they confronted insurgents and terrorists with the same courage that Travis and his fellow Marines had displayed. As few could have predicted a year earlier, the sacrifices of 3-2-1 MiTT had made SEAL Team Three’s current mission immeasurably safer.
Even though Travis didn’t live to see the outcome of his sacrifice, Brendan made sure his friend’s legacy was sustained in Fallujah and around the world. At the same time Brendan, as Travis had once predicted to Tom, was making his own mark as a Navy SEAL in the summer of 2008.
Stuck at a base in Iraq for nearly a week at the end of the deployment, Brendan and Sarver amused themselves by holding a “sleeping contest” to make up for the countless hours of lost rest during BUD/S and then Fallujah. Brendan then finally returned to California. When Amy ran toward him, Brendan embraced his wife and passionately kissed her.
It was the moment Amy had been dreaming about since the night of their wedding. At long last, her husband was home.
During the drive from Coronado to San Diego’s W. Hotel, where they would stay that night, Amy asked Brendan about seeing where Travis had spent the last weeks of his life.
“This may sound strange,” Brendan said. “But after being there and seeing the places where Trav spent those last few months, I felt a strong connection to him.”
It didn’t seem strange to Amy at all. It helped her understand what her husband had experienced in Iraq.
While serving his country in war, Brendan found peace. Gaining some closure didn’t eliminate the pain of Travis’s death, but as his wife understood, Brendan was learning how to deal with losing such a close friend.
A few months later, Brendan learned that SEAL Team Three would be heading to Afghanistan, where he would lead a platoon into dangerous, much more frequent combat missions than during his first deployment as a special operations warrior. He did his best to hide his emotions from Amy to keep her from misunderstanding his enthusiasm, but she knew Brendan felt like he’d just won the lottery.
The SEAL wasn’t looking forward to being apart from Amy or being in the middle of violent clashes with the Taliban. He was eager to realize nearly a decade of intense, almost nonstop preparation by going to the country where 9/11 had been planned and having a positive impact on people’s lives. After valuable experience in Korea and Iraq as an intelligence officer and a combat deployment to Iraq as a SEAL, Brendan knew that leading his fellow warriors into battle in Afghanistan was his best chance yet to make a difference, just as he and Travis had once discussed.
Brendan poured himself into readying his platoon for the mountains of Afghanistan, which would be vastly different than Fallujah’s urban terrain. He read books, studied manuals, refined his already solid marksmanship, and worked out at levels that were unprecedented, even for him. He was quiet around the other SEALs, which made his words even more meaningful when he did speak up. Not only did Brendan give clear, constructive orders to those who looked up to him, he never asked anyone to do something that he wasn’t willing to do himself.
For Brendan, the most difficult part of his combat assignment, which would start in the spring of 2010, was leaving Amy behind in San Diego during his fourth overseas deployment since they had started dating. By Valentine’s Day, with Brendan’s deployment quickly approaching, Amy was overcome by stress and a recent bout with flu-like symptoms. After being sick for several weeks, she finally felt well enough to go out to dinner, but still couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that in a few weeks, her husband would once again be risking his life halfway around the world.
“Look, if anything happens to me,” Brendan said at almost the exact moment it was dominating Amy’s thoughts. “The first thing you need to know is that you are never allowed to get remarried.”
His joke provoked a nervous laugh, and after they shared an appetizer, Brendan put down his fork and looked straight into his wife’s eyes, much like during their first wedding dance.
“Seriously, if anything happens to me, obviously you should know that you will always be part of my family and that they will always be good to you,” the SEAL said.
Amy’s eyes welled with tears as she tried to change the subject.
“There’s just one more thing,” he continued. “I also want to make sure you stay in touch with the Manions, and especially Ryan, since I’ve always thought you two would become good friends.”
Amy always referred to Brendan as her “friend-finder,” because he had introduced her to at least four of her very best friends since they had become a couple almost seven years earlier. But this conversation was getting too visceral—too real—for Amy to allow it to continue.
“Don’t even say that, Brendan!” she said. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”
Brendan told his wife he was sorry, to which Amy nodded and said it was okay. She simply couldn’t handle discussing the unthinkable.
On March 9, 2010, Brendan and Amy stood in a loving embrace as they kissed and reassured one another. It was three years to the day since Brendan had left the East Coast for Coronado to realize his dream of becoming a Navy SEAL. It was also Amy’s birthday.
“I only have to get through six months,” Amy repeated over and over. “It’s just six months.”
Brendan’s tears welled up. Only in his most painful moments, like Travis’s death, the Marine Corps Marathon speech, and leaving Amy after their wedding, did Brendan become this emotional. Though he was committed to his mission and defending the defenseless, the SEAL hated to see his beloved wife pay such a high price for his duty.
“Please try not to worry,” he said. “I’ll see you later.”
Amy had to leave for work before Brendan had to head over to base for his flight. After taking a deep breath, she gave him another hug and kiss.
“Six months,” Amy said. “See you later.”
After a roller-coaster workday during which it was difficult to focus on anything other than missing Brendan, Amy collapsed on the couple’s big, empty bed. She had spent the early part of the evening hanging out with her brother-in-law’s future wife, but as the clock approached midnight, Amy was alone on her birthday.
As loneliness crept into the bedroom, the couple’s two dogs jumped up on the bed to keep her company. Like thousands of military spouses, Amy was starting the long odyssey of trying to function while her life partner and best friend was deployed overseas.
While petting Hayley and Lexi and looking around the room, Amy spotted the card Brendan had given her on Valentine’s Day. She picked it up and opened it, hoping that seeing Brendan’s handwriting would help her feel as close to him as she had that morning.
Titled “For My Wife on Valentine’s Day,” the pink Hallmark card was self-deprecating and tongue-in-cheek:
When something needs doing, I don’t always do it . . .
When something needs fixing, I don’t hop right to it . . .
When the checkbook’s a mess,
I may throw a fit . . .
When the going gets tough,
I’ve been known to quit.
After reading the next few lines, which were filled with similar soliloquies, Amy smiled and flipped back to the second page. In thick black magic marker, Brendan had crossed out the last two lines and replaced them with three words: I DON’T QUIT.