Tom Sileo (29 page)

On one quiet day in September 2007, the phone rang at the Manion house. It was Brendan, who asked Tom how he, Janet, and Ryan were holding up.

“It's great to hear from you, Brendan,” Tom said. “We're doing alright up here. . . . How was BUD/S? . . . Did you make it out in one piece?”

“Yes, sir,” Brendan said. “It was tough, but I made it, and I think you know who was looking out for me the whole time.”

“Congratulations, buddy, and I also heard you got engaged, so congratulations to you and Amy, too,” Tom said. “Janet and I are proud of you, and I know your parents are, too.”

Brendan told Travis's father that he was in Maryland to visit his folks, and if it was alright with Tom and Janet, he would like to drive up to Pennsylvania and spend time with the Manions. After agreeing on a day, Tom invited Brendan to stay the night on the same downstairs couch next to the bar and pool table that Travis had loved to sleep on when he visited from California.

“Brendan, it really means a lot to us that you'd come up here,” Tom said.

After hanging up Tom went into the kitchen, where his wife was immersed in the roots of what would later become the Travis Manion Foundation. Hearing that Brendan was coming to visit, Janet smiled for the first time in weeks.

“It will be so great to finally see Brendan,” she said.

Many other friends and fellow Marines who knew Travis had made the pilgrimage to Doylestown, and Tom, Janet, Ryan, and Dave appreciated every visit. But few, if any, came without their spouses or significant others and spent the night. It was obvious
that Brendan cared deeply about his friend's family and wanted to personally ensure that they were okay.

After opening the front door, which the Manions had not fixed since Janet had broken it six months earlier, one of America's newest Gold Star mothers embraced the soon-to-be Navy SEAL. With tears in her eyes, she profusely thanked her son's dear friend for making the trip.

Brendan, who felt guilty for being stuck in California during the funeral services, started apologizing to Travis's grieving mom.

“You can stop that right now,” Janet said, patting Brendan on the back. “We all know you would have been here if you could have.”

A collection of medals and letters, including one from the president, was sitting on the living room piano. Brendan paused to look at them for a few seconds, then took a deep breath and went inside.

Tom and Brendan exchanged a firm handshake and quick hug. Janet brought Tom and Brendan beers before they headed to the lower level to sit at the Manion bar, where they discussed BUD/S, Brendan's family, and Amy.

Surrounded by more of Travis's medals and mementos, sitting at the bar felt like having a drink in a Marine Corps museum. It was the first time Brendan had spent time with the Manion family since before Travis was killed.

Janet and Tom told Brendan they were proud of him and asked him to explain his upcoming SQT training, which would take him to Kodiak, Alaska, to simulate combat in bitterly cold weather. As she would have said to Travis, Janet told Brendan to take his heaviest winter coat. With a smile that evoked laughter, Brendan assured her that his own mom had been telling him the same thing.

After talking more about Brendan's next round of training and learning that he would likely become a Navy SEAL in June 2008, Janet proposed a toast.

“Let's have a drink for Travis,” said Janet, pouring three shots of Patrón tequila. “He cared about you so much, and you were always—and still are—such a great friend.”

“To Travis!” Brendan, Tom, and Janet said in unison.

The next time Brendan saw Travis's parents was the Friday night before the 2007 Marine Corps Marathon in Washington, DC, which was held on the Sunday just before Halloween. At long last Brendan had his chance to pay his respects to Travis, while spending the weekend surrounded by his buddy's relatives, friends, and fellow Marines. But he was also confronted with the full breadth of the mark that Travis's passing had made on people from all walks of life.

Before Brendan ran Sunday's Marine Corps Marathon with the Manions, his brother Steve, and their uncle, Chris Parker, the soon-to-be Navy SEAL attended a prerace “Team Travis” Saturday night dinner banquet in Arlington, Virginia, with his parents and Amy. Janet and Tom, who had created the special marathon group along with relatives and friends, began the emotional evening by standing at the podium to thank the hundreds in attendance. Nearly six months after an enemy sniper ended their son's life in the Pizza Slice, the grief on the Gold Star parents' faces was clear. But as Tom began to speak, their strength was even more apparent.

After expressing his gratitude and talking about how his son's constant desire to push himself further could serve as a theme for Sunday's 26.2-mile run, Tom talked about a significant moment earlier in the day.

“Janet and I went over to Arlington [National Cemetery] this morning,” Tom said with his right arm around his wife. “We spent some time over there, and if you get a chance, that's a place to go
and visit. . . . It's a special place. You feel a certain energy . . . when you go over there and see what's there and certainly feel all the brave men and women who've given their lives for our freedoms. You feel their spirits there, and it's really a special place and a special time. And this is really all about getting behind those who are over there now, continuing to fight for our freedoms, and those who have given their lives and made the ultimate sacrifice.”

Family friend Bob Schumaker, who had helped organize the event with his wife, Kit, then introduced Steve Brown, a close friend of Travis's since elementary school. Steve, who is African American, stepped up to the podium and told a childhood story that very few in the audience had ever heard.

“A time that stands out to me the most was the summer between sixth and seventh grade when we set out to get a slice of pizza from a local pizza parlor,” Brown said. “I remember stepping up to the counter and asking for a slice of plain, and was ignored. I asked again, and still no response.

“But before I knew it, the man behind the counter was already asking Travis for his order,” Brown continued. “Travis, without hesitation, replied and said ‘what about my friend? . . . What about my friend?' The man stood there in silence, and Travis quickly processed the situation and ordered three slices, and then handed two to me.”

Brown finished the story, beginning to smile.

“He then looked the man in his eyes, and said with his 12-year-old voice: ‘What you're doing here is wrong. He's just the same as me.'”

Brown ended his remarks by saying how much he missed and loved his friend. He received enthusiastic applause, then introduced one of Travis's best high school buddies, Sean Kent. After making the audience laugh with several creative lines, including “you can't send a boy to do a Manion's job,” Kent introduced the next speaker.

“At this time, I'm going to hand it over to Brendan Looney, who was Travis's roommate at Navy,” he said.

Brendan, who hadn't been nervous before Hell Week or during a deployment to Iraq, had confessed to Amy that he was petrified about speaking that night. He was worried not about himself or his image, but about adequately honoring Travis in front of so many loved ones and friends.

Amy had also been surprised when Brendan, who didn't care about fashion and usually dressed in a relaxed style when he was out of uniform, had asked her to take him shopping earlier in the day. He had bought a new button-down, blue-striped dress shirt and a pair of brown khaki pants.

“Amy, what if I break down up there?” Brendan had asked as they walked through the mall.

“Then you cry, Brendan, and everyone will cry with you,” Amy had replied. “There's nothing wrong with crying.”

But the aspiring Navy SEAL never wanted to show weakness, especially while paying tribute to Travis, who in Brendan's mind defined what it meant to be a warrior.

Brendan looked solid, handsome, and lean as he settled into the podium, which had a gold poster on the front that read “GO TEAM TRAVIS.”

Looking out over the hotel ballroom, Brendan suddenly felt pressure building in his throat after wishing everyone “good evening.” Despite spending the entire day figuring out how to avoid becoming emotional, seeing everyone sitting in front of him, especially Tom, Janet, Ryan, Dave, and Maggie, hit him harder than any explosion he had experienced during combat simulation exercises. Less than a year earlier, Travis and Brendan had still been hanging out, laughing, and going to Redskins-Eagles games. Now he was giving a speech after Travis's death.

As Brendan looked down and briefly covered his mouth, the only sound in the room was a barely audible whimper from little
Maggie, who was up past her bedtime. Everyone else was quiet and motionless as the sorrow on Brendan's face became more evident.

Almost no one in the room knew this young man was about to become a Navy SEAL. They just knew he was a very close friend.

After beginning by thanking the Manion family and again looking toward their table, Brendan stopped. To his astonishment, tears were starting to form. In that moment he realized, as he never had before, that Travis really wasn't coming home from Iraq.

After again covering his lower lip, gently shaking his head, and taking a breath so deep it was audible through the microphone, Brendan continued his speech.

“I was lucky enough to room with Travis at the Naval Academy for two years,” he said, pausing and taking a deep breath. “Throughout our time, we became very close.”

Brendan was now on the verge of tears, and many could hear it in his voice. Though Brendan believed he was showing weakness, those watching him marveled at his courage in stepping up to the microphone. Clearly this young man was in pain after losing someone so close.

“I think it was mostly because we had very similar views on many things and enjoyed a lot of the same activities,” Brendan said. “In a very short time, he became another brother to me.”

Still fighting tears, Brendan began to hit his stride, launching into a story about taking a trip to Texas with Travis for a wedding. Slowly but surely, he was overcoming his emotions, taking a few more deep breaths in between speaking.

“It was on this trip that Travis solidified his position in my family . . . as an extended member of my family,” said Brendan, who added that his mom, sister, brother, and fiancée were all there.

After sharing several humorous anecdotes involving his brother Billy and his unique rapport with Travis, Brendan had the tearful audience laughing. He showed them a funny picture of Billy and Travis from the trip, which helped everyone smile, including Brendan.

“It reminds me of all the good times we had,” Brendan said of the picture. “I think it also shows how easygoing and likable a person Travis was.”

As his voice began to crack, Brendan's well-guarded emotional levee finally broke.

“He was a great friend, and I'll never forget him, and I miss him,” Brendan said.

The ensuing ovation was universal, heartfelt, and lengthy. As Brendan stood there listening to the applause, he may have realized that his fiancée was right. If there was ever an appropriate time to reveal his emotions, this was it.

“Your speech was beautiful, Brendan,” Janet said afterward as Tom nodded in agreement. “I know Travis was up there smiling.

“We also brought two things that we thought you should have,” she continued. “We meant to give them to you that night at the house.”

“This is Travis's knife,” Tom said. “He got this when he first joined First Recon and took it with him both times to Iraq. . . . It was given back to us with his things. I couldn't think of anyone who deserved this more than you.”

Before Brendan could say “thank you,” Janet put her arm around him to give him the second memento.

“And here's a bracelet we had made to honor Travis,” she said. “It's the same one that we all wear, and when things get tough or dangerous, I want you to make sure you're wearing it.”

The bracelet was black and engraved with three lines of silver lettering: