Lone Survivor_ The Eyewitness Account of Operation Redwing and the Lost Heroes of SEAL Team 10 ( PDFDrive )

forget all about that. He’s coming home, and we’re going to get him.”
They saddled up the family Suburban, Morgan and my kid brother, Scottie,
plus the SEALs Lieutenant JJ, and JT. And they set off across the Lone Star
State to collect the brother they had been told by the media was dead. I couldn’t
believe it when I saw them all waiting there when my private jet landed.
There were a few tears from all of us. Just tears of happiness, I guess,
because they had all lived with the darkest of threats, that we would not see one
another ever again. I have to say the thought had also crossed my mind a few
times as well.
But mostly I remember the laughter. “Jesus, you look awful,” said Morgan.
“Mom’ll have a nervous breakdown when she sees you.” It reminded me of what
I’d said to Axe when he’d been fatally wounded on the mountain — “Hey, man,
you’re all fucked up.”
It’s just the way we talk to each other. Remember, Morgan was a SEAL, and
his words, even to his twin brother, were tempered with humor, like all of our
words among ourselves. One day it could be Morgan trapped on the mountain
and me waiting for him, beside myself with worry and fear for his life. I recall he
did tell me he loved me, though, and so did Scottie. And that meant a lot to me.
In the absence of Commander Pero, Scottie rustled up a bagful of
cheeseburgers for the five-hour journey home, and we guffawed our way across
Texas; me making light of my ordeal, telling ’em it wasn’t much really, none of
them believing me. I guess it’s impossible to look as bad as I did when it wasn’t
much really.
But we had some fun, and in the end, I told them a few of the bits that were
on the serious side of horrendous. Morgan wept like a child when I told him
about Axe. We all went pretty quiet while that was happening, because there
were no words which could comfort him, nothing that could ever be said to ease
his sadness. In my view, nothing ever will. Same with me and Mikey.
Eventually we ran into our little corner of East Texas. Everyone pulled
together as we drove down that wide, red dirt road to the ranch, the home I
thought I might never see again. Those big oaks still towered over the place, and
Dad’s dogs came running out to meet us, barking like hell, with Emma unusually
out in the lead, wagging her tail, as if she knew something the others didn’t.
Mom predictably broke down at the sight of me, because I was still more
than thirty pounds lighter than when she last saw me. And I guess I still looked
pretty ill. I never told her about the goddamned typhoid-laden Pepsi bottle. A ton
of people were there, from all around the neighborhood, to greet me.