Thank You

Image courtesy: Staff Sgt. Joseph Swafford

The sight of a fallen hero's flag-draped casket returning to American soil. The sound of a grieving loved one's anguish. The indelible memory of meeting a young man or woman who lost one or more limbs on the battlefield.

Since February 2011, when my first newspaper column was released, these devastating moments have echoed through every facet of my life. The last three and a half years have been difficult and emotional, but what I've endured is nothing compared to what a U.S. service member, veteran or military family sacrifices on a daily basis.

The Americans I've met and spoken to while writing this weekly column are some of the most extraordinary people on the planet. They are brave, selfless, and strong. They are husbands, wives, dads, moms, brothers and sisters. They are, without a doubt, the best our nation can offer to a troubled world that is in dire need of America's leadership and compassion.

Even though I had worked at CNN and blogged about the military before launching this column, I came into this effort with little understanding of the Armed Forces. I knew our troops were courageous, but didn't realize just how much is required of service members and their families. I knew that families of the fallen suffered, but failed to grasp that for them, the war will never end.

I knew that many combat veterans came home from war with harrowing memories, but didn't have a handle on what witnessing the evil of America's enemies could do to a young man or woman. I knew that suicide in the military was a problem, but couldn't have possibly understood its gravity before speaking to family members suffering from the permanent grief and confusion of a loved one taking their own life.

In short, I knew almost nothing about military life. I started writing the column because I thought that millions of Americans probably felt the same way: They respected our Armed Forces, but didn't fully comprehend the depth of the military community's sacrifice.

Image courtesy: Cpl. Reece Lodder

Less than 1 percent of Americans serve in uniform. While many of my relatives served in previous wars, I only knew one person who had deployed to Iraq or Afghanistan before I started interviewing troops and veterans. My guess is that many people reading this column have a similar connection, or lack thereof, to the America's post-9/11 conflicts.

It is absolutely critical that every single one of us makes a concerted effort to learn more about the men and women who protect us. We can't help solve the many challenges that our heroes face if we have no understanding of their sacrifices.

Whether it's been a story about a fallen hero, veteran or service member, I hope this column has given you a better appreciation of this new Greatest Generation, as some now rightfully refer to our nation's volunteer warriors. For me, the way I look at our military will never be the same. Our men and women in uniform are even more heroic than I thought they were.

My daughter is 3 years old. Someday, I will ask her to read the stories of the men and women who stepped forward to defend our nation after it was attacked. Rather than trying to follow in the footsteps of so-called celebrities, I hope she will grow up wanting to be like our nation's real stars: those who are willing to fight for freedom.

A new career opportunity is forcing me to end this column. From the bottom of my heart, thank you to Creators Syndicate and my editor, Simone Slykhous, for your graciousness and guidance. Thank you to each newspaper for running these weekly stories, and to you for reading them.

Most of all, thank you to the troops, veterans and military families who trusted me to help tell your incredible stories. I am in awe of your kindness, integrity, and valor.

I conclude this journey with a quote from "Brothers Forever," which I co-authored with the father of a fallen Marine. The short passage was written to describe thousands of headstones at Arlington National Cemetery, where so many American heroes rest.

"There is no inscription to define the meaning of their sacrifice. That mission is ours."

COPYRIGHT 2014 CREATORS.COM

Image courtesy: Matthew Sileo Photography

Defining Valor

Image courtesy: International Security Assistance Force

I could see fire in the eyes of retired U.S. Marine Gen. John Allen shortly after someone at a recent Washington forum told the former commander of U.S. forces in Afghanistan that al-Qaida has "demonstrated a great deal of valor" since 9/11.

"I don't see any valor in al-Qaida," Gen. Allen said in response to the audience member. "My first real experience with the horrific dimension of al-Qaida was the day they cut the heads off of four children going to school because they were the children of a sheikh.

"I see no valor in that," Allen, who also commanded U.S. Marines in Iraq's most violent province, continued. "And I eventually deserve the right to define valor the way I want to define it, and not how other people would like to create a relativistic view of valor."

Allen has led thousands of brave men and women into battle, and clearly agonizes for every brave American killed or wounded in Afghanistan and Iraq. Nevertheless, he was calm and respectful while answering the questioner, who also told the accomplished military leader that "you have to admire the way [al-Qaida] fought your people."

After Allen named several terrorist organizations that he and forces under his command fought on foreign soil, he reminded the audience member that each group has "killed far more civilians in Afghanistan than they ever killed of Afghan National Security forces or my own forces."

"So I see no valor in that," the general reiterated.

Image courtesy: Sgt. Steven J. DeLuzio Memorial Fund

As I looked into the general's eyes, I thought of a harrowing story relayed to me by the parents of U.S. Army Sgt. Steven DeLuzio, who was killed in Afghanistan on Aug. 22, 2010 at age 25. Before he left for his final deployment, Sgt. DeLuzio got a tattoo on his arm that bore the mysterious image of an Iraqi woman's shrouded face.

"The lady saved his life," Steven's dad, Mark DeLuzio, told me.

As Steven patrolled the treacherous city of Ramadi in 2006, the Iraqi woman told American forces about a bomb buried on a stretch of road they would soon encounter. Without the civilian's warning, Steven's Humvee would almost certainly have struck the enemy improvised explosive device.

A few days later, Steven and his unit returned to thank the Iraqi woman for her courageous act.

"Steven found the woman, her husband, and their kids all beheaded," Mark said.

That is one example of terrorist barbarism that I heard about while writing this syndicated column. Allen, who spent 12 years battling al-Qaida and the Taliban, witnessed terrible atrocities by the enemy on a daily basis.

Image courtesy: International Security Assistance Force

The May 22 American Enterprise Institute event was focused on the meaning of Memorial Day and "Brothers Forever," which I coauthored with retired Marine Col. Tom Manion. General Allen wrote a moving Foreword to our book, and offered another stirring, emotional reflection on the heroism of our military in person.

"At night in Afghanistan when I commanded there, I always wrote the letters home to the families of our dead at night," he said. "And I'd always take the time to go through the kid's record book to see when they were born.

"By the time I commanded the war in Afghanistan between 2011 and 2013, many of these kids were 9 or 10 years old when the war broke out," Allen continued. "And they still came ... nothing stopped them. They still came, and they still enlisted, and they still knew they were going to war, and they still came over. And they still fought for us, and they died for us."

Memorial Day weekend is over. Soon, the war in Afghanistan — according to politicians overseeing the U.S.-led effort — will be over, too.

As a significant chapter of American history comes to close, there are two sentiments that I hope will never cease. First: gratitude to the valiant men and women to serve our country in uniform, and second: disdain for the terrorists who started this war.

"To get to your point about whether we can coexist with al-Qaida: I hope not," Gen. John Allen said to his questioner. "I hope that al-Qaida has to wonder every night whether they'll wake up the next morning alive."

COPYRIGHT 2014 CREATORS.COM


(Note: Gen. Allen's remarks begin at 49:00)

Tom Sileo is a nationally syndicated columnist and co-author of BROTHERS FOREVER: The Enduring Bond Between a Marine and a Navy SEAL that Transcended Their Ultimate Sacrifice. Written with Col. Tom Manion (Ret.) and published by Da Capo Press, BROTHERS FOREVER is available now. To find out more about Tom Sileo, or to read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators website.

Brothers Forever: Maggie's Prayer

Image courtesy: Travis Manion Foundation

The following scene is an excerpt from "Brothers Forever: The Enduring Bond between a Marine and a Navy SEAL that Transcended their Ultimate Sacrifice," which I co-authored with retired U.S. Marine Col. Tom Manion, who lost his only son in Iraq.

In the scene, the oldest niece of 1st Lt. Travis Manion is saying a prayer on the same evening as the wedding of the fallen Marine's U.S. Naval Academy roommate, U.S. Navy LT (SEAL) Brendan Looney, who is just 48 hours away from deploying to Fallujah, Iraq as a member of SEAL Team Three. Just over a year earlier, Travis had been killed while shielding his fellow Marines from enemy fire in the same violent Iraqi city.

Every week in this column space, you read about the selfless American heroes who serve and sacrifice in the spirit of five unforgettable words uttered by Travis just before his second and final combat deployment: "If not me, then who ... " Hopefully, the story of Travis, Brendan and their loved ones will inspire more Americans to put the needs of others before our own. "Brothers Forever" will be released on May 13.

"'God bless Uncle Travis,' a blonde-haired, 2-year-old girl said in her soft, tender voice.

A step down from her family's kitchen, where little Maggie Rose Borek was saying her prayers at the dinner table, pictures of Travis (Manion) hung on the living room wall. One photo showed the smiling Marine holding her when she was a baby.

Old enough to comprehend that her uncle had gone to heaven, Maggie finished her nightly prayers on a muggy summer evening in Doylestown, Pennslyvania. Fourteen months earlier, flag-carrying mourners had solemnly filled Doylestown's quaint streets to honor Travis after he was killed on Apr. 29, 2007.

As Maggie prayed for her fallen uncle on July 12, 2008, the city and surrounding Bucks County were bustling with life. Malls and movie theaters were packed; hoagie and ice cream shops had long lines; and most television screens portrayed the 2008 presidential campaign, along with Philadelphia Phillies games, instead of the daily struggles and accomplishments of U.S. troops serving in Iraq and Afghanistan. After Travis died, things went back to normal for almost everyone except the Manions, whose lives had not been the same since two Marines arrived at their door on a horrible Sunday that Maggie was mercifully too young to remember.

Maggie's mom and Travis's sister, Ryan (Manion Borek), had been aware of the risks of her younger brother's post-9/11 military service, but never really thought Maggie would grow up learning about her uncle through stories and pictures. Ryan had even dismissed Travis's attempt to bring up the possibility of not coming home from Iraq, preferring to imagine a world in which tragedy couldn't reach her family's doorstep.

Ryan and Travis's parents, Tom and Janet (Manion), weren't in Doylestown that night. They were in Annapolis, Md., for the wedding of Amy and Brendan (Looney), who were getting married not far from the dorm where Brendan and Travis had roomed together. Ryan had spoken to her mom earlier that day, who had said she was dreading her first overnight stay in Annapolis since Travis's death. But seeing Brendan for the first time in almost a year would make the pain worthwhile.

Ryan knew how close Travis had been to Brendan, his now twenty-seven-year-old, former U.S. Naval Academy roommate. She also knew that Travis should have been one of Brendan's groomsmen, which weighed heavily on her mind as the sun set during a mild Pennsylvania thunderstorm.

After putting Maggie to bed Ryan, who was six months pregnant with her second child, watched the rain from the window of her darkened upstairs bedroom. The Marine's pretty older sister, who always wore a bracelet bearing Travis's name, pictured what should have been happening that night: Her brother, her parents and Brendan laughing up a storm and doing shots of Patron (tequila), just like at their friend Ben Mathews's wedding shortly before Travis was killed.

Ryan still spoke about her little brother in the present tense and usually immersed herself in long hours at work to avoid thinking about losing him. But on this Saturday night, there was no escape."

COPYRIGHT 2014 CREATORS.COM

Note: "Brothers Forever" will be released on May 13. You can order the book today from Amazon, Audible, Barnes & Noble, Books-A-Million, iTunes, IndieBound, and The Doylestown Bookshop.

Brothers Forever: 'Loon-Dog'

Images courtesy: Da Capo Press

The following is an excerpt from "Brothers Forever," which I co-authored with retired U.S. Marine Col. Tom Manion. The book will be released on May 13.

In this scene, U.S. Navy LT (SEAL) Brendan Looney is serving in Afghanistan three years after his friend and Naval Academy roommate, Marine 1st Lt. Travis Manion, was killed in Iraq.

"With the Taliban launching its annual spring offensive, Brendan and his platoon started to see more action in May [2010], just as he had predicted in his email to Tom and Janet [Manion]. Surrounded by jagged cliffs, extreme poverty, and acute desolation, which many of the younger SEALs had never experienced, it was Brendan's responsibility to keep them optimistic, focused, and sharp. But considering that the SEALs were sleeping on a [base] 'in the middle of nowhere,' thousands of miles from home, setting a positive tone was never an easy task.

"Rather than barking out orders to the SEALs under his command, Brendan was 'Loon-Dog.' The enlisted SEALs, or 'E-Dogs,' as they were nicknamed, loved working for the 29-year-old lieutenant, because even though Brendan was an officer, he still thought of himself as just one of the guys.

"During his deployment, Brendan spent roughly the equivalent of two full weeks on 'over watch' missions above three districts in northern Zabul province, where the lieutenant and SEALs under his command would look down from the cliffs to make sure their brothers in arms operating below were safe from lurking Taliban and al Qaeda fighters. But after only a day or two on the high ground, Brendan was concerned that his primary responsibilities as an officer and squad commander weren't enough of a contribution to his platoon. Upon returning to base, he started training on a .50 caliber sniper rifle so he could directly help his teammates blunt the enemy threat.

"After only limited training, Brendan was a consistent shot from a thousand yards. Over the next few months he made some of the most accurate shots his teammates had ever seen to protect Americans and Afghans in the villages below.

"Wearing a half-shell helmet and carrying heavy gear and the .50 cal sniper rifle in his huge backpack, the bearded warrior patrolled, exercised, ate and hung out with his entire platoon.

"When there was extra gear to carry, the officer threw it on his back instead of ordering enlisted SEALs to carry it. Regardless of the command structure or rank, Loon-Dog treated everyone with the same respect.

"When things got dicey on the battlefield, however, there was no mistaking who was in charge, like one day when gunfire rang out beneath the over watch position Brendan's SEAL team had established above a small, Taliban-controlled Afghan village.

"'Incoming!' Brendan yelled.

"As bullets pounded the mountain rocks that were shielding his team, who took cover as soon as they heard their leader's unmistakable voice, Brendan's commanding officer (CO) asked for a status report over the radio.

"'We've got enemy fire coming from just outside the village,' Brendan said. 'Nobody's been hit, and we're prepping the counterattack.'

"'Lieutenant?' the CO asked.

"'Sir?' Brendan repeated what he had said a few times before realizing the signal was dropping in and out, as it had been for most of the day.

"'Lieutenant,' the CO repeated. 'If you copy, call me on the SAT [satellite] phone.'

"As soon as Brendan heard the order, he broke his crouch and stood up. The SAT phone was a few yards in front of the boulder that was protecting him.

"'Whoa, Loon-Dog,' exclaimed a surprised fellow SEAL. 'Be careful, sir.'

"Brendan knew his CO wouldn't ask him to call unless it was extremely important, and for all he knew, retrieving the satellite phone could be a matter of life and death. Without blinking, Brendan hustled toward the phone, picked it up, and returned to his position as bullets whizzed by.

"'Loon-Dog ... you all right?' [Brendan's teammate] said.

"'I'm OK,' said Brendan, acting more like he was taking an afternoon stroll than engaging in an intense firefight.

"Brendan then told his CO that his men were ready to strike back at the enemy. Moments later he aimed his sniper rifle at the enemy position. When the day was over, the Navy SEALs had once again disrupted the Taliban's plans."

COPYRIGHT 2014 CREATORS.COM

"Brothers Forever" will be released on May 13 and is available now for pre-order at brothersforeverbook.com

Never Complain

Images courtesy: Kantor family

Navy SEALs are known for their bravery, toughness and physical prowess. But as I've met, interviewed and written about these American heroes, the trait that's impressed me most is the one Mary Jane Kantor emphasized about her son during our recent phone interview.

"He never complained," she said repeatedly.

Long before U.S. Navy Petty Officer 2nd Class Matthew Kantor became one of our nation's elite warriors, he was thinking about serving his country while growing up about 30 miles from Manhattan in Gillette, N.J.

"He always wanted to go into the military ... since the day he was born, really," Mary Jane said.

When Matt was in high school, military recruiters started calling the Kantor home. His mother would usually hang up on them, fearing that the horror her community had felt on 9/11 — when Matt was 11 years old — would someday put her son's life at risk. But no matter how much she tried to dissuade him, Matt was on a mission.

"He was training for something," Matt's mom said. "He wasn't joining the swim team for fun ... he would be swimming lap after lap."

Following high school, Matt received a full scholarship to the New Jersey Institute of Technology. He returned home to his parents after four days.

"Your dream is college," Matt said to his mom. "My dream is to become a Navy SEAL."

Each year, hundreds of the nation's strongest and bravest try to become SEALs. Most fail. Matt, who trained in New York with former SEALs before heading to Coronado, Calif., was unwavering in his quest to graduate from Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL (BUD/S) training.

"He was determined," Mary Jane said. "Things were going pretty well ... he never complained about it."

In May 2010, after making it through "Hell Week" and more than five additional months of one of the world's most rigorous training programs, Matt completed BUD/S. He wasn't old enough to buy a beer, but Matt had earned his Navy SEAL trident.

Soon after he was stationed near Virginia Beach, Matt called his mom with big news: He would soon deploy to Afghanistan with SEAL Team Four.

"To him, and to all those guys, I think, that's where they want to go," the SEAL's mom said. "You train for it for three years."

Matt had been in Afghanistan for about six weeks when Superstorm Sandy began ravaging his home state. On Nov. 1, 2012, Matt's parents had just returned home from their daughter's college, Rutgers University, where they took their first hot showers in days after losing electricity.

Then, at about 11 p.m., their doorbell rang. When Matt's father, Kenneth, answered, he saw something just as terrible as the surrounding aftermath of a deadly hurricane. Outside in the dark were two Navy sailors tasked with sharing dreadful news about their son.

"I really did not believe it," Matt's mom said of the harrowing moments that followed.

A few days later, the devastated Kantors received a letter from SEAL Team Four in Afghanistan.

"While on patrol, several insurgents mounted a complex machine gun attack on Matt and his team," it read in part. "Without fear or hesitation, Matt moved to protect his teammates and was mortally wounded by the heavy machine gun fire.

"He was the first line of defense for his team and his actions were directly responsible for saving the lives of his element and protecting the main body of the patrol," the letter continued. "Matt was true to form in his last moments, a gallant and noble warrior who put his team above himself."

Petty Officer 2nd Class (SEAL) Matthew Kantor, 22, would posthumously receive the Bronze Star with Valor. When Kenneth eulogized his son in a packed church operating on generator power, he captured the feelings of the fallen warrior's loved ones, friends and teammates.

"I am so, so proud of you," Matt's dad said. "You died a hero."

Even after losing their oldest son, Kenneth and Mary Jane Kantor exemplify the trait that Matt shared with his fellow Navy SEALs. They never complain, and are also grateful to everyone who continues to surround their family with love and support.

"As hard as it is, it's nice that people aren't forgetting him," Matt's mom said.

COPYRIGHT 2014 CREATORS.COM

Tom Sileo is a nationally syndicated columnist and co-author of BROTHERS FOREVER: The Enduring Bond Between a Marine and a Navy SEAL that Transcended Their Ultimate Sacrifice. Written with Col. Tom Manion (Ret.) and published by Da Capo Press, BROTHERS FOREVER will be released in May. To find out more about Tom Sileo, or to read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators website.

Brothers Forever: 'If Not Me, Then Who...'

Image courtesy: Travis Manion Foundation

Every week, I write a column about America's heroes and their families that your newspaper is kind enough to publish. I am eternally grateful for the support of readers like you, who are eager to read the personal stories of our nation's brave men and women in uniform.

On Feb. 6, 2011, my first column — "Closer to You" — marked the beginning of this series, which was aimed at increasing awareness about the sacrifices still being made by our military community. It told the story of U.S. Marine 1st Lt. Travis Manion, 26, who was killed in Iraq on Apr. 29, 2007, and U.S. Navy LT (SEAL) Brendan Looney, 29, who made the ultimate sacrifice in Afghanistan on Sept. 21, 2010. These close friends and U.S. Naval Academy roommates are buried side-by-side at Arlington National Cemetery.

Nine months later, I started writing a book with 1st Lt. Manion's father, U.S. Marine Col. Tom Manion (Ret.). "Brothers Forever," which will be published by Da Capo Press in May, chronicles not only the enduring bond of Travis and Brendan, who met just before 9/11, but salutes their courageous families and all the heroes who have stepped forward since our country was attacked.

The following excerpt is adapted from the fourth chapter of "Brothers Forever." In December 2006, Travis was attending a Monday Night Football game with his brother-in-law while preparing for his second deployment to Fallujah, Iraq. The five words Travis uttered that night — "if not me, then who ... " — deeply inspired his friend and former roommate, Brendan, as he subsequently trained to become a U.S. Navy SEAL. It also sparked a national movement and motivated people outside the military community, like me, to help tell this powerful story.

"Even so close to going back to Iraq, Travis's demeanor was calm. He was doing exactly what he wanted with his life, and instead of complaining about spending the next 12 months in a war-ravaged city that could justifiably be labeled a hell hole, he felt fortunate for the chance to put all the hard work of the last eight years to good use.

As [Travis and his brother-in-law, Dave] listened to one of Travis's favorite iPod playlists, which consisted of everything from Johnny Cash and Elton John to Ben Harper and The Roots, Dave took a sip of his beer and leaned against his car in silence as his visible breath blended with smoke from a small grill to fill the chilly air near the two-man tailgate. Dave knew young Americans were dying in Iraq almost every day, including a soldier named Pfc. Ross McGinnis, who had died the previous weekend in Baghdad. The 19-year-old Knox, Pa., native, who dove on top of a grenade to save the lives of fellow Army soldiers, would later become the fourth U.S. service member to be awarded the Medal of Honor for heroism displayed in Iraq.

Dave was an avid reader, particularly of military-themed books and magazines, and was following the war closely. He knew Travis faced severe risks in Fallujah, particularly in a unit that guided Iraqi soldiers around the city's hostile streets. Though he never mentioned the full scope of his fears to [Travis's sister] Ryan, or for that matter Travis, he was worried about whether he would see his brother-in-law again. In fact, part of him wished he could talk Travis out of leaving, even though he knew it would be an exercise in futility.

'Hey, Trav, if I tripped you right now and you fell and broke your ankle, do you think they'd let you sit this deployment out?' he asked.

Travis chuckled at Dave's joke, but didn't say much in response. A brief moment of slightly awkward silence followed. Suddenly Travis spoke up.

'You know what though, Dave?' Travis said with an unmistakably serious look on his face. 'If I don't go, they're going to send another Marine in my place who doesn't have my training.'

'If not me, then who ... you know what I mean?' he continued. 'It's either me or that other guy who isn't ready, so I'm the one who has to get the job done.'"

"Brothers Forever" will be released on May 13 and is available now for pre-order at brothersforeverbook.com.

COPYRIGHT 2014 CREATORS.COM

Real Life Heroes

Image courtesy: Char Fontan Westfall

For me, the most moving part of "Lone Survivor," Peter Berg's film based on real events in Afghanistan, comes just before the final credits. As Peter Gabriel's cover of the classic David Bowie song "Heroes" plays, we see photos of not only the real life heroes of the Operation Red Wings mission, but many of their loved ones.

I was particularly touched by the picture of U.S. Navy Chief Petty Officer (SEAL) Jacques Fontan and his wife, Char. Last year, I spoke with this courageous Navy SEAL widow about her fallen husband and his towering legacy.

"People say 'do you think he would have still gone if he knew he wasn't coming back?'" Char said. "And I say he would have."

Eight years after her husband was among those killed trying to rescue four fellow Navy SEALs cornered during the June 28, 2005 battle that is so grippingly portrayed in the movie, Char perfectly summarized the selfless mindset of our country's military community. Since 9/11, less than one percent of our population has carried almost impossible burdens to shield 99 percent of us from having to join the fight.

Some reviews of "Lone Survivor," which opened in the top spot of the North American box office, have accused the film of being a "jingoistic" oversimplification of the war in Afghanistan. The trepidation coming from certain media precincts is predictable, as some journalists are uncomfortable with the age-old concept of good and evil.

The simple truth, with rare exceptions that are usually splashed all over television and computer screens, is that our brave men and women in uniform are good, while members of al-Qaida and the Taliban are bad. In no way does that view advocate, as one reviewer inaccurately and disgracefully suggested, that the movie portrays all non-Americans as enemies. In fact, two of the film's heroes are an Afghan father and son who put their lives at risk.

Having read the book of the same name, written by Petty Officer 1st Class (SEAL) Marcus Luttrell and Patrick Robinson, the ultimate purpose of "Lone Survivor" is to salute America's armed forces and the bold Afghans and Iraqis who have joined the fight against those who terrorize the innocent. One does not have to support either war — or the two U.S. presidents to oversee them — to appreciate the valor of patriots who are willing to sacrifice everything.

The Basic Underwater Demolition (BUD/S) training footage at the beginning of the film is real, and helps illuminate the seemingly impossible obstacles that young Americans must overcome to become Navy SEALs. Having recently visited the Coronado, Calif., compound where hundreds of aspiring warriors tackle BUD/S training with uncommon determination and endless grit, my respect for this noble, tight-knit community is unlimited.

The film's four key actors — Mark Wahlberg (who plays Luttrell), Taylor Kitsch (LT Michael Murphy), Emile Hirsch (Petty Officer 2nd Class Danny Dietz) and Ben Foster (Petty Officer 2nd Class Matthew Axelson) — do an admirable job of portraying SEALs who were not only authentic superheroes, but also men with families and dreams that went beyond military life. While I am often critical of a Hollywood culture that frequently celebrates itself instead of those who make their luxurious lives possible, it is refreshing to see the strong-willed commitment of these artists and their colleagues. They have brought honor to a profession that needs more of it.

I have spoken with too many brave service members, veterans and families of fallen heroes to conclude that "Lone Survivor" is the only story from the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq that deserves a place on the big screen. A documentary called "Murph: The Protector," which portrays the valor of LT (SEAL) Michael Murphy — the Medal of Honor recipient portrayed in "Lone Survivor" — is another film that every American should see.

In "Lone Survivor," the tragic incident that took the lives of Chief Petty Officer (SEAL) Jacques Fontan and his fellow rescuers serves as a key moment. Instead of viewing the sequence like any other special effects-laden movie scene, I hope filmgoers realize that the sacrifices of our military community, which continue to this day, are not being made in some fictional universe. They are real.

COPYRIGHT 2014 CREATORS.COM

Tom Sileo is a nationally syndicated columnist and author of BROTHERS FOREVER: The Enduring Bond Between a Marine and a Navy SEAL that Transcended Their Ultimate Sacrifice. Written with Col. Tom Manion (Ret.) and published by Da Capo Press, BROTHERS FOREVER will be released in May. To find out more about Tom Sileo, or to read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators website.

Tex and the Princess

Images courtesy: Operation Home

When Christina Spragins was growing up with future U.S. Army Staff Sgt. Alex Viola, the siblings were usually building forts in the basement.

"Alex loved to play an Army guy named 'Tex,'" Christina wrote on her "Operation Home" blog. "And I was the princess whom he was protecting."

Other than two years and 364 days, not much separated Christina from her younger brother. Whether he was guarding her as she played princess or enjoying one of their joint birthday parties, Alex was always there to support his big sister.

"He was so funny," Christina told The Unknown Soldiers. "He liked to give people a hard time, but he wouldn't be mean ... ever."

After overcoming a youth muscular disorder, Alex turned his focus to joining the military's elite special operations community.

"He always had it in his head that he wanted to be Special Forces," Christina said.

Alex joined the Navy and began Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL (BUD/S) training in Coronado, Calif. He made it two days before the end of "Hell Week" — one of the most grueling chapters of BUD/S — before a back injury forced him out.

"He never made a big deal about it, but he never really wanted to talk about it very much," Christina said.

Alex came home to suburban Dallas just in time to enjoy his sister's wedding. Instead of complaining about the bad luck he encountered while trying to become a Navy SEAL, he set his sights on joining the Army's storied Special Forces component.

By the summer of 2011, Alex had graduated and become a Green Beret. Finally, his many years of hard work had paid off.

"He fought to be on the team," the soldier's sister said.

Whenever Alex had a break from training, he would enjoy time with his girlfriend or dote over his sister's first child, Lucas.

"Alex was an uncle," Christina said. "He would spend as much time as he could with (Lucas)."

On Christmas Eve 2012, Alex bought a special suit to surprise his beloved nephew.

"He dressed up after Christmas Eve dinner to visit Lucas as Santa," Christina said.

As Alex prepared to leave for the still-volatile southern Afghanistan city of Kandahar in October 2013, he was as happy as a deploying soldier could be.

"It seemed like he was content with everything," his sister said. "He was content with going (overseas), his girlfriend and where he was living. He was in a good place."

Christina kept in frequent touch with her deployed brother, who always wanted to see new pictures and videos of young Lucas. The soldier had big plans upon his scheduled return in 2014, including spending time with his nephew and settling down with his girlfriend.

Then, on Nov. 17, two soldiers and an Army chaplain knocked on the front door of Christina's home in Fort Worth, Texas.

"I was holding my son ... I had no idea what was going on, and I was crying, of course," she said. "I made them repeat it twice."

According to the Pentagon, Staff Sgt. Alex Viola, 29, was killed when his unit was attacked with an improvised explosive device while on a dismounted patrol.

The news was devastating. But the way the community has rallied around the fallen soldier's family is a source of inspiration.

"We have been absolutely blown away by all of the support," Christina, 32, said three weeks after the death of her only brother.

After neighbors of the fallen soldier's parents lined the streets with American flags, Christina asked her two-year-old son if he knew who the flags were for.

"Uncle Alex," Lucas said. "Uncle Alex is a hero."

Image courtesy: U.S. Army

As a pretend soldier named Tex, Alex guarded his sister while she played princess. As a real American soldier, he protected not only Christina, but helped shape the life of a boy who will always be affected by the war in Afghanistan.

If there's one lesson Christina Spragins wants Americans to learn from her brother's death, it's to always appreciate your family and friends.

"Go tell your loved ones how you feel about them ... now," she wrote. "They deserve to hear it. And you never know when your last chance to tell them will be."

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Tom Sileo is a nationally syndicated columnist and author of BROTHERS FOREVER: The Enduring Bond Between a Marine and a Navy SEAL that Transcended Their Ultimate Sacrifice. Written with Col. Tom Manion (Ret.) and published by Da Capo Press, BROTHERS FOREVER will be released in May 2014. To find out more about Tom Sileo, or to read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate website.

The Brave Ones

Image courtesy: Sgt. Margaret Taylor

This weekly column is about the thousands of brave men and women in uniform who selflessly serve and sacrifice. It's also about their families, who shoulder an immense burden that few outside the military community can comprehend.

I've learned many things while talking to these fine Americans. One is that every single man and woman who volunteers to defend freedom is brave. Another is that when a U.S. service member is killed, whether by hostile fire, an accident or suicide, every family member responds differently.

Kelsey Mills has been through more than most young wives could imagine. On April 10, 2012, her husband, U.S. Army Staff Sgt. Travis Mills, then 25, lost both arms and legs during an enemy improvised explosive attack in Afghanistan.

"I'm happy that my husband is still alive," Kelsey told The Unknown Soldiers less than a month after the explosion. "He's still here."

Every day since, Travis and Kelsey, who are raising a little girl, have inspired us with their dignity and courage. In my mind, it is people like these — not Miley Cyrus — who define what it means to be a true celebrity. I wish more people agreed.

Bob Bagosy, who I met through the Travis Manion Foundation, watched in agony as his son, U.S. Marine Sgt. Tommy Bagosy, drifted toward depression and despair because of traumatic brain injury and post-traumatic stress. At age 25, Tommy, who served in Afghanistan and Iraq, killed himself.

Bob was haunted by the mystery of Tommy's suicide.

Image courtesy: Bagosy family

"I know the who, what, where, when and how," Bob said. "But the 'why' has been eluding me."

Having spent time with Bob, I have seen the fortitude he has displayed while honoring his son's memory by helping other military families that have been forced to cope with tragedy. He and his wife are great parents and truly inspirational people.

Emily Feeks has served in the U.S. Navy and deployed to Afghanistan. She also watched her husband, Special Warfare Operator Petty Officer 1st Class Patrick Feeks, deploy to Afghanistan as a Navy SEAL while she was serving in the Philippines.

Image courtesy: Emily Feeks

On Aug. 16, 2012, Patrick, 28, died in a helicopter crash that killed seven Americans.

"You look around and everyone is happy go-lucky, and you wonder why you can't have that," Emily said less than three months after the crash. "Why does it have to happen to you?"

During a June trip to San Diego, I finally met Emily, along with Karlyn Deveau, who lost her fiance, Special Warfare Operator Petty Officer 2nd Class David Warsen, 27, in the same crash. While tears were shed, both of these young women showed the same brand of tenacity that their loved ones displayed as Navy SEALs. If my daughter grows up to be like Emily and Karlyn, I will be proud.

Thad Forester lost his younger brother, U.S. Air Force Senior Airman Mark Forester, 29, in Afghanistan on Sept. 29, 2010. When we spoke less than three years after Mark died while trying to save his unit's medic, Thad was in a state of proud reflection.

"We all have missions on this earth and some of them are different for each person," Thad said. "One of Mark's was to help defeat terrorism, and he did it."

Image courtesy: Forester family

On Sept. 23, Thad released a book about Mark called "My Brother In Arms," which was written with Matthew Glencoe. I hope everyone who reads this column will also take the time to read the story of this remarkable American hero.

Beth Strickland Funk, who courageously spoke with The Unknown Soldiers for last week's column, is not thinking about anything other than caring for her family and making it through the next day. Her son, U.S. Army Sgt. Joshua "Jay" Strickland, was killed in Afghanistan on Sept. 21.

"We're all going back and forth between the anger and the grieving," Beth said ten days after her son was killed by small arms fire.

When I go to sleep at night, I think of people like Beth Strickland Funk and everyone else mentioned above. They've been through more pain than most of us will in a lifetime.

Our men and women in uniform are incredibly brave. Hopefully, everyone will join me in realizing that their families are, too.

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Remember Afghanistan

Image courtesy: U.S. Air Force/Greg Davis

On Aug. 31, Staff Sgt. Joshua Bowden was busy doing what thousands of American troops are still doing in Afghanistan. He was risking his life in a dangerous, faraway place.

According to the Pentagon, Staff Sgt. Bowden, 28, was killed that same day when enemy forces attacked his U.S. Army patrol. The fallen Villa Rica, Ga., soldier will be laid to rest at Arlington National Cemetery by his grieving family and friends.

While the debate over taking military action in Syria continues to unfold, I feel like we are trapped in the twilight zone. As the speeches, punditry and protests get louder and lengthier, do most Americans even realize that our countrymen are still fighting and dying in Afghanistan?

During heavy Syria coverage on cable news, there has been scant mention of daily events in Afghanistan, including the deaths of unselfish patriots like Bowden. This is no surprise, as the national media, for the most part, long ago dismissed its obligation to vigorously report on America's lengthiest post-9/11 conflict.

Even more troubling is the almost complete lack of recognition by many of our nation's public representatives, which along with the media's dereliction of duty, has trickled into our national psyche. If our leaders aren't talking about Afghanistan, some might ask, why should we?

Just four days after the combat death of an American soldier in Afghanistan, Secretary of State John Kerry appeared before the Senate Foreign Relations Committee to testify about the Obama administration's Syria policy.

"Now, I remember Iraq," the former U.S. Senator and 2004 Democratic presidential nominee said on Sept. 3. "Secretary (Chuck) Hagel remembers Iraq. General (Martin) Dempsey remembers Iraq. But Secretary Hagel and I and many of you sitting on the dais remember Iraq in a special way because we were here for that vote."

I'm glad the Secretary of State remembers Iraq. But when I searched Kerry's 2,724-word prepared remarks for any mention of the war still involving thousands of brave men and women and their families, "Afghanistan" was nowhere to be found.

The purpose of this week's column is not to attack one politician or political party. It's to highlight the fallacy of a vociferous debate about using military force in Syria while virtually ignoring the war in Afghanistan, where our nation's military community continues to serve with awe-inspiring selflessness.

Image courtesy: Cpl. Paul Peterson

Almost every day I speak to families of the fallen Afghanistan and Iraq war veterans and active duty U.S. service members. In early September, I received a Facebook message from a grieving mother on the anniversary of her son's death in Afghanistan.

"Today is very difficult," she wrote. "It's one year today. And it's becoming reality."

Every military family's reality is different. Some have lost loved ones. Some have seen their loved ones wounded, physically and/or emotionally. Some anxiously await their loved one's return from Afghanistan or an overseas base. Some worry that their 18-year-old son or daughter, who was in kindergarten or first grade on 9/11, will soon end up fighting and bleeding in a war-torn land like Syria.

Approximately 99 percent of us, including myself, do not serve in uniform. Some of us live our lives without any connection to what's been happening for the last 12 years in Afghanistan or what happened for almost nine years in Iraq.

U.S. Army Staff Sgt. Travis Mills, who I met last year at the Walter Reed military hospital in Bethesda, Md., has no such luxury after losing his arms and legs during an Apr. 10, 2012 roadside bomb attack in Afghanistan. Staff Sgt. Mills, his wife and their young daughter have shown incredible courage during the 26-year-old soldier's difficult rehabilitation.

Ursula Ebbert lost her husband, Petty Officer 1st Class (SEAL) Kevin Ebbert, 32, in Afghanistan on Nov. 24, 2012. One year later, Ursula will spend Thanksgiving mourning an incomprehensible loss.

"These things happen," the fallen Navy SEAL's wife said. "You just think it won't happen to you."

No matter what happens in Syria, we cannot overlook the impact another conflict would have on a military community that is still fighting a war in Afghanistan. Ebbert, Mills and Bowden are not names on a list, but American heroes that our politicians, journalists and citizens should remember every single day.

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Image courtesy: Spc. Ryan Scott

The Gentle SEAL

Images courtesy: Ursula Ebbert

When Petty Officer 1st Class Kevin Ebbert deployed to Afghanistan in 2012, it wasn't only as a battle-hardened Navy SEAL. It was also as a compassionate U.S. Navy Corpsman who wanted to save as many lives as possible.

"He really didn't talk much about what he was doing over there in terms of being a SEAL," Petty Officer 1st Class Ebbert's wife, Ursula, told The Unknown Soldiers. "He's also a medic, and he was volunteering to work in the clinics on his free time."

Kevin, who planned to leave the Navy and study to become a doctor upon returning from Afghanistan, believed helping injured troops and civilians on the battlefield would eventually help him become a better physician.

"A lot of the calls were 'I got to help with this procedure' or 'I got to help save somebody's legs today,'" Ursula said. "He was really excited."

Ursula first met Kevin in 2002 near their hometown of Arcata, Calif. They got to know each other on a hiking trip arranged by their mothers, who are close friends.

"He's not a big talker, so I did most of the talking, but he's a very good listener," she said. "After four days of backpacking, we got very close."

Kevin, who studied music before eventually becoming a Navy SEAL, proposed to Ursula while away on a previous combat deployment.

"I got an email from Afghanistan with a PowerPoint presentation of different ring options," Ursula said. "We knew (our relationship) was serious, but I think he just wanted to see if I could handle a deployment."

After getting married on New Year's Eve, the new bride rapidly adjusted to life as a military spouse when Kevin left for Afghanistan on Sept. 25, 2012, the day after Ursula's birthday.

"On the second deployment, we were thinking about what comes after the Navy, which made it a lot harder," Ursula, 31, said. "It made it a lot harder to say goodbye this time."

On Thanksgiving, Kevin called his wife from Afghanistan to share some exciting news.

"He had just found out that it was likely that he was going to be back in mid-January (2013)," Ursula said. "It was the first I heard that he was going to be back in six weeks."

The next day, Kevin and his fellow SEALs left for a perilous combat mission.

"They were hiking into hostile territory," Ursula said. "The terrain they were moving through was a lot rougher than anticipated."

A decade after Kevin and Ursula started falling in love while hiking the California mountains, four Navy sailors rang the doorbell of their Virginia Beach home.

"They said 'we have some bad news ... Kevin was killed last night,'" she said.

According to the Pentagon, Petty Officer 1st Class Kevin Ebbert, 32, was killed on Nov. 24, 2012, while supporting stability operations in Afghanistan's Uruzgan Province. The fallen SEAL's wife said her husband was shot by the enemy during an ambush.

"These things happen," the grieving widow said. "You just think it won't happen to you."

As soon as news of the SEAL's death began to spread, mourners from Virginia to California surrounded Ursula and all of Kevin's loved ones with support.

"Gratitude is the number one thing that really struck me," Ursula said. "Kevin was a really quiet person and wasn't easy to get to know in that respect, but the chapel was standing room only."

For Ursula, seeing how many lives her husband touched turned initial feelings of anger into an overwhelming sense of pride.

"I was so proud of everything he'd done," she said. "I just wish he had more time."

During the funeral services, one college buddy summed up Kevin's legacy in a way that moved his wife.

"A gentle soul who was tough as nails," the friend said.

As Ursula Ebbert puts her life back together after an unimaginable tragedy, she is inspired by what Kevin left behind.

"He didn't lecture (people), he just lived his life according to his ideals," Ursula said. "That's an amazing legacy to leave, to push others to want to be better."

Hopefully, the legacy of fallen heroes like Petty Officer 1st Class Kevin Ebbert will push each of us toward being better, too.

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The Rescuers

Images courtesy: Char Fontan Westfall

Shortly after word reached military commanders that four U.S. Navy SEALs were engulfed in a chaotic Afghanistan firefight, Chief Petty Officer (SEAL) Jacques Fontan boarded a helicopter to aid in their rescue.

"I was always worried about him and always praying for him," Chief Petty Officer Fontan's wife, Char, told The Unknown Soldiers. "But I never had any doubt that he was coming home."

In May 1996, nine years before he sprung to action during Operation Red Wings, Jacques was a Navy sailor stationed in Jacksonville, Fla., when he met Char, who was working as a lifeguard at several pools on base.

"He was a rescue swimmer instructor," Char said. "We shared the same pools."

Char and Jacques were instantly drawn to each other.

"We just hit it off ... we immediately clicked," she said. "We had a good time together and enjoyed a lot of the same activities."

In 1998, Jacques was about to leave the Navy when he was given a shot at Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL (BUD/S) training. After six painstaking, rigorous months at BUD/S, Jacques earned his Navy SEAL trident and quickly proposed to Char. They were married in 2000.

Everything changed for the Fontans when 9/11 jolted the entire military community. From the beginning, it was clear to Char that Navy SEALs would play a key role in hunting down the terrorists responsible for attacking America.

"I went from having a happy-go-lucky life and living in a bubble to realizing that (Jacques) was going to be much more involved," she said. "I think it just became much more real what his job was and the danger he was going to be in."

By 2003, Jacques was leaving for missions so secret that he often couldn't tell his wife which countries he'd be fighting in.

"He told me we weren't going to speak for a three month period," Char said. "To this day, I still don't know where they were."

In April 2005, Jacques was permitted to tell his wife that he was leaving for Afghanistan. It was supposed to be his final combat deployment after almost seven years as a Navy SEAL.

"We were going to start a family and enjoy some downtime," Char said of their plans upon Jacques' return.

Less than 48 hours before the June 28, 2005, rescue mission Jacques didn't know was on the horizon, Char ended a phone call with her husband as she always did.

"Be careful," she said.

"We're just flying around in helicopters," Jacques, shielding his wife from worry, said. "It's no big deal."

After a day tutoring a child with autism in Virginia Beach, where Jacques was stationed, Char was at a pizza parlor with the boy and his brother when she saw a troubling news report.

"I saw something on TV about a helicopter crash, and I remember saying a prayer right there for those families," she said. "Then I got a call from one of the (Navy SEAL) wives, and from that point on, I just had a really bad feeling thinking about what I saw on the TV."

Soon after, Char was informed that her husband, Chief Petty Officer Jacques Fontan, 36, was killed when a rocket-propelled grenade struck his helicopter. Seven fellow Navy SEALs and eight Army special operations soldiers died in the attack.

Of the four SEAL heroes fighting on the ground, three were killed and one survived. As the U.S. Navy summary of action notes, June 28, 2005, at that point, "was the single largest loss of life for Naval Special Warfare since World War II."

Eight years later, with bestselling books and a forthcoming major motion picture now telling the Operation Red Wings story, Char Fontan Westfall is remarried and raising children. To this day, when a Navy SEAL is killed in battle, Char springs to action to comfort their loved ones.

"It's my way to thank God and also make Jacques proud and also keep his memory alive," she said.

From rescue swimmer instructor and lifeguard to Navy SEAL hero and Navy SEAL widow, one American couple managed to impact countless lives.

"People say, 'do you think he would have still gone if he knew he wasn't coming back?'" Char said. "And I say he would have."

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Someday

Images courtesy: Karlyn Deveau

For Karlyn Deveau, Dec. 8, 2012, wasn't just another date on the calendar. It was the day she would marry her fiance, who would finally be home from Afghanistan.

"He was helping plan everything from over there," Karlyn told The Unknown Soldiers. "He was so excited about it."

As a Navy SEAL, Special Warfare Operator Petty Officer 2nd Class David Warsen was often in harm's way. But when night fell in Afghanistan, the SEAL would always make time for a Skype call with Karlyn, who had usually wrapped up her night shift as a labor and delivery nurse in San Diego.

"There were maybe only three days I didn't talk to him during the entire deployment," Karlyn said. "We always found a way."

Karlyn and David found each other through an unlikely series of meetings in San Diego. After two chance encounters, David left for several months of training in Virginia. But in July 2011, once again in downtown San Diego, the future couple met a third time.

"We both knew at this point that we needed to hang out since we kept randomly running into each other," Karlyn, 26, wrote. "We went on our first date the following week and the rest is history."

Karlyn knew SEALs are some of the world's toughest men, yet was immediately struck by the genuine warmth of David's heart.

"He just loved everyone and made you feel so important," she said. "He had so much love and passion about life."

When David and Karlyn decided to get married, they understood the challenges they would later face. Like thousands of military couples, they would spend many months apart during an overseas deployment. But David always managed to stay positive, even when Karlyn could tell he wanted to come home.

"Every time we talked, he tried to be in a cheerful mood," the SEAL's fiancee said.

Almost every night, Karlyn would keep her computer screen close as she fell asleep while looking into her future husband's eyes.

"It was just so peaceful knowing that if I woke up, I could see him," she wrote about their Skype calls. "I always dreaded when I would hear his alarm going off, which sounded like a dog barking, because I knew it was time for him to head out."

Karlyn and David spoke for about an hour in the early morning hours of Aug. 16 before the SEAL left for a mission. They were supposed to talk again later that day, but the Skype call never came.

"I was freaking out a little bit," Karlyn said. "Then I found an article that said there was a helicopter crash in Afghanistan."

It can't be him, Karlyn thought. But when she learned two Navy SEALs were killed in the crash, the worried fiancee grew terrified.

"I got that sick feeling that it could be him," she said. "But I didn't want to believe it."

Special Warfare Operator Petty Officer 2nd Class Warsen, 27, died in the Aug. 16 helicopter crash near Kandahar, Afghanistan, along with six fellow Americans.

"It's hard to talk about things because in my mind I don't feel like this situation is real," Karlyn said on Nov. 20. "I feel like he's going to come back."

The fallen SEAL's fiancee, who spoke in a quiet, dignified tone throughout our phone conversation, then paused.

"It's so hard to know he's not coming back," she said.

David also leaves behind his parents, brothers and grandparents.

"I'm glad that we're all together to be there for each other," Karlyn said. "It's nice, but it's hard."

David's obituary, printed in the Grand Rapids Press, contains a quote that sums up the courage of a Michigan native who refused to quit.

"Failure to David was never an option," the obituary reads.

While Dec. 8 will be filled with tears of sadness instead of joy, Karlyn and David's romance is the opposite of failure. Karlyn's road ahead is difficult, but David's love will always be inside the heart of the woman he longed to call his wife.

"I just want him to be honored like the kind person he was," Karlyn said. "I wish the whole world could have met him."

Someday, David and Karlyn will meet again.

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Inseparable

Images courtesy: Emily Feeks

Emily Booth had just come home from Afghanistan when she met her future husband, a Navy SEAL named Patrick Feeks. He had just returned from a deployment to Iraq.

"We really just hit it off," Emily, a Navy cryptologist, told The Unknown Soldiers.

It didn't take long before the sailor and SEAL realized they were meant for each other.

"By Thanksgiving 2010, we were pretty much inseparable every day," Emily said. "We just kind of knew."

Whether it was their shared sense of humor or common military experiences, nobody understood Emily like this young Navy SEAL.

"Patrick always took care of me," she said.

Special Warfare Operator Petty Officer 1st Class Patrick Feeks and Petty Officer 1st Class Emily Feeks were married on March 12, 2011. Just two months later, Emily deployed to the Philippines, leaving her engagement ring with Patrick to symbolize their resilient bond.

"The two of us always made time to talk," she said. "We talked every morning and every night, and we talked constantly during the day."

Shortly after Emily returned from the Philippines, it was Patrick's turn to leave for Afghanistan. Having served there, Emily understood the risks her husband faced, even as Patrick placed his wedding ring in her hand.

"I'm coming home," Patrick told his wife. "I promise you I'm coming home."

But Patrick was a SEAL, and Emily knew the meaning of the gold Trident her husband wore with such pride. In Afghanistan, he would be involved in some of the U.S. military's most dangerous combat missions, confronting the enemy while shielding the innocent.

"I don't want people to think these guys are killing machines," Emily, 32, said. "They're well-trained men, but they're also incredible sons, fathers and husbands."

Even in the heat of battle, Patrick's heart went out to a stray dog he encountered one day in Afghanistan. The SEAL made it a priority to find the dog a safe home.

"Sadie now lives in Canada on a farm," Emily said. "He had to get her out of there."

Every night in San Diego, Emily went to bed hoping to wake up to the beeps of an incoming Skype call. Her conversations with Patrick were frequent, but the SEAL never discussed the things he was doing or the lives he was saving. Patrick was too humble for that and Emily knew it.

"If there was something that needed to get done, he would do it and do it right," the SEAL's wife said. "Everything had a purpose and everything should be done correctly."

After an Aug. 15 combat mission was delayed, Emily seized the opportunity for a late-night Skype conversation with Patrick. She knew her husband was headed into harm's way, so Emily kept Patrick's face on the computer screen as long as possible.

"I love you," she said.

"I love you more," Patrick replied.

"Now go save the world," Emily said as the screen turned to black.

Emily awoke at 2 a.m. to the echoes of Patrick's voice. She thought her husband was calling on Skype, but the screen was still blank.

"I just knew something was wrong," she said.

On Aug. 16, Special Warfare Operator Petty Officer 1st Class Patrick Feeks, 28, was killed alongside six fellow Americans in a helicopter crash near Kandahar. The fallen hero left behind his wife, parents, and a sister who also serves in the Navy.

"You're just so numb ... you can't believe it's happening," Emily said through tears. "Then you realize he's not coming home and you'll never hear his voice again."

When Patrick's flag-draped casket returned to American soil, Emily was waiting with his wedding ring. They were never apart while he was gone, and even after Patrick's death, the couple is still together. Still, Emily agonizes over what could have been.

"You look around and everyone is happy and go-lucky, and you wonder why you can't have that," the young widow said. "Why does it have to happen to you?"

Petty Officer 1st Class Emily Feeks plans to dedicate the rest of her life to helping others. By emulating Patrick's care and compassion, Emily knows they'll always be together.

"I've never been treated like that in my entire life," she said. "He made me feel like the world."

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