Tom Sileo (41 page)

“This is scary,” Amy said, bowing her head to say a quick prayer. All the way across the country, Janet and Ryan were doing the same thing.

There was initially no way to know what was happening, but one thing was for sure: the president of the United States would not address the nation and the world well after 10:00 p.m. on a Sunday night unless the topic was potentially earth-shattering.

Before the topic of the president's speech was revealed on Twitter and in subsequent news reports, the country experienced some of its most suspenseful moments since Brendan, Travis, and millions more watched the horrific events of September 11, 2001, unfold on live television. The nation had since experienced several tragedies, from the explosion of space shuttle
Columbia
to Hurricane Katrina, but as rumors began to swirl, countless Americans wondered what the president was about to say.

The White House said the announcement was related to national security. Was it a massive terrorist plot? Had Moammar Gadhafi been killed or captured in Libya? What about Osama bin Laden? Was the country on the brink of war with Iran or North Korea? Were the American people in imminent danger?

The clock in the Del Mar, California, apartment read 8:35 p.m. when the commander-in-chief appeared in the East Room of the White House. It was 11:35 p.m. in Doylestown, Pennsylvania, where the Manions were busy preparing for the next day's memorial golf outing and dinner, which was held each year on the Monday closest to the anniversary of Travis's death. Several of Travis's closest Marine Corps buddies, in town for the event, were staying at the Manion house that night. They sat with Tom, Janet, Ryan, and Dave as the president walked to the White House podium.

“Good evening,” President Obama said. “Tonight, I can report to the American people and to the world that the United States has conducted an operation that killed Osama bin Laden, the leader of al Qaeda and a terrorist who's responsible for the murder of thousands of innocent men, women, and children.”

From San Diego to Philadelphia, Los Angeles to Washington, Seattle to New York, and Afghanistan to Iraq, millions of Americans rejoiced with a patriotic fervor not seen since the morning of September 12, 2001. President Obama, who had called President Bush shortly before making the startling announcement, spoke about the significance of bin Laden's death:

       
For over two decades, bin Laden has been al Qaeda's leader and symbol, and has continued to plot attacks against our country and our friends and allies. The death of bin Laden marks the most significant achievement to date in our nation's effort to defeat al Qaeda.

             
Yet his death does not mark the end of our effort. There's no doubt that al Qaeda will continue to pursue attacks against us. We must—and we will—remain vigilant at home and abroad.

In Del Mar, about twenty-five miles from the Coronado beach where Brendan was named Honor Man, Amy cried and hugged her friend. At Philadelphia's Citizens Bank Park, adjacent to Lincoln Financial Field, where Travis had attended countless Eagles games with Brendan, Dave, and others, a nationally televised Major League Baseball game between the Philadelphia Phillies and New York Mets was interrupted by enthusiastic chants of “U-S-A.” In nearby Doylestown, the Manion family and several Marines who had served with Travis did a shot of Patrón at the same bar where Tom and Janet once raised a glass to their fallen son with Brendan. In the nation's capital, crowds celebrated into the night outside the White House. At the Pentagon, World Trade Center, and United Flight 93 Memorial in Shanksville, Pennsylvania, Americans lit candles and left flowers.

“We give thanks for the men who carried out this operation, for they exemplify the professionalism, patriotism, and unparalleled courage of those who serve our country,” the president had said in his speech. “And they are part of a generation that has borne the heaviest share of the burden since that September day.”

In Coronado and Virginia Beach, word was quickly spreading that the men who killed bin Laden were Navy SEALs, which the White House soon confirmed. Upon receiving many text messages from family members and close friends, including Janet and Ryan, Amy reflected on a moment that would have made her husband, who made the most out of every day he served as a sailor and SEAL, incredibly proud.

“I'm so happy they got him,” Amy told her friend Lindsey. “But at the same time, my husband died and I know so many others are going to die too.”

“This is a big deal,” Amy's friend said. “But it's also only one slice of the pie.”

Though the war wasn't over, that night was as close as America's post-9/11 generation would ever get to the unbridled elation of the World War II generation's V-J Day.

Amy smiled when she thought of Travis and Brendan laughing and drinking somewhere far above the Sunday night sky. Though proud of the role her husband and his close friend had played in America's struggle against terrorism, Amy still would have given anything to share the moment with Brendan before meeting up with Travis for an Annapolis-style celebration.

The day after President Obama's dramatic announcement, twenty-two-year-old Corporal Kevin White, of Westfield, New York, was killed by an IED in Afghanistan. Thirty-five American troops
died in Afghanistan that month, as well as two in Iraq, from which the last US forces would withdraw that December.

As the sacrifices of America's military families continued after bin Laden's death, many controversial issues once again divided the country. In that month and many to follow, just about the only thing most Americans could agree on was the heroism of the military.

Whereas the first Monday in May 2011 was a time for bleary-eyed Americans to rejoice after bin Laden's demise, the last Monday—Memorial Day—was a time to reflect.

Amy was in San Diego when President Obama took the podium on May 30, 2011, to deliver his Memorial Day remarks. After receiving an invitation to join the ceremonies at Arlington National Cemetery, Tom and Janet Manion, along with Ryan, Dave, and their two daughters, Maggie and Honor, were in the audience to witness the president's address. Sitting beside them at Arlington were Kevin, Maureen, Bridget, Erin, and Kellie Looney.

Speaking at Arlington's historic Memorial Amphitheater on a bright, clear morning, the president closed his speech with a story about two young men who had made a difference:

       
Our nation owes a debt to its fallen heroes that we can never fully repay. But we can honor their sacrifice, and we must. We must honor it in our own lives by holding their memories close to our hearts, and heeding the example they set. And we must honor it as a nation by keeping our sacred trust with all who wear America's uniform, and the families who love them; by never giving up the search for those who've gone missing under our country's flag or are held as prisoners of war; by serving our patriots as well as they serve us—from the moment they enter the military to the moment they leave it, to the moment they are laid to rest.

             
That is how we can honor the sacrifice of those we've lost. That is our obligation to America's guardians—guardians like Travis Manion. The son of a Marine, Travis aspired to follow in his father's footsteps and was accepted by the U.S. Naval Academy. His roommate at the Academy was Brendan Looney, a star athlete and born leader from a military family, just like Travis. The two quickly became best friends—like brothers, Brendan said.

             
After graduation, they deployed—Travis to Iraq, and Brendan to Korea. On April 29, 2007, while fighting to rescue his fellow Marines from danger, Travis was killed by a sniper. Brendan did what he had to do—he kept going. He poured himself into his SEAL training, and dedicated it to the friend that he missed. He married the woman he loved. And, his tour in Korea behind him, he deployed to Afghanistan. On September 21st of last year, Brendan gave his own life, along with eight others, in a helicopter crash.

             
Heartbroken, yet filled with pride, the Manions and Looneys knew only [one] way to honor their sons' friendship—they moved Travis from his cemetery in Pennsylvania and buried them side by side here at Arlington. “Warriors for freedom,” reads the epitaph written by Travis' father, “brothers forever.”

In a cemetery where two American presidents—John F. Kennedy and William Howard Taft—are buried, the nation's forty-fourth
commander-in-chief saluted two young patriots who could have become fathers, grandfathers, businessmen, doctors, teachers, professional athletes, police officers, firefighters, civic leaders, politicians, or even presidents. Like thousands of fallen heroes resting all around them, Travis and Brendan had the ambition, talent, and dedication to accomplish whatever they wanted in life. They chose to serve.

“The friendship between 1st Lieutenant Travis Manion and Lieutenant Brendan Looney reflects the meaning of Memorial Day: brotherhood, sacrifice, love of country,” the president said. “And it is my fervent prayer that we may honor the memory of the fallen by living out those ideals every day of our lives, in the military and beyond.”

Six months later Brendan's widow, exhausted and trying to overcome throbbing pain in her knee, passed the Iwo Jima Memorial while crossing the finish line of the Marine Corps Marathon. As her husband had run to honor Travis four years earlier, Amy had run 26.2 miles to honor Brendan, whom she would always hold in her heart.

Driven by love and grief, Amy met her goal, as did Brendan's equally courageous mother, Maureen, and sister, Bridget. When the Looneys crossed the finish line, Ryan and her two young daughters, five-year-old Maggie and two-year-old Honor, were cheering them on. Janet, who wasn't feeling well that morning, was being cared for by Tom back at the hotel.

After Amy iced her knee, she went to Arlington National Cemetery to see Brendan and Travis's headstones for the first time. Thirteen months after losing her husband, the Gold Star wife's emotions were still raw and fragile. Yet on this fall day, which had warmed up after a freak snowstorm the day before, Amy visited
Arlington with Travis's two young nieces. She was determined to hold herself together, although some tears were inevitable.

Staring at her husband's name, Amy kissed his tombstone before draping her Marine Corps Marathon medal around it. For the first time, she truly understood Brendan's emotions after Travis died, and in that moment, she missed her husband more than ever.

“I will always love you, Brendan,” Amy said as Ryan kept the kids occupied nearby. “The reason I keep going is because I want to make you proud. I hope I am.”

Suddenly, Maggie walked up to Amy and took her by the hand.

“Amy, why did you put your medal there?” Maggie asked.

Composing herself and wiping away tears, Amy smiled at the niece Travis had held when she was just a baby.

“I'm giving that to Brendan because I never could have finished that long race without him,” she said. “And you know what, Mags? After your Uncle Travis passed away, Brendan ran that same race and went on to do some very important things. And no matter where he was, he could always hear Travis cheering him on.”

“Are they in heaven?” Maggie asked.

“Yes,” Amy said. “And no matter what you do, your Uncle Travis will always be cheering you on, too.”

How had all this happened? Just a few short years before, Amy was making memories with Brendan and Travis in Annapolis. They were going to be friends for life, having each other's families over for Super Bowls and summer barbeques.
They were just here
.