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

around us, just about as far as you can see in any direction, there’s pasture,
studded with huge oak trees and grazing animals. It’s a peaceful place for a Godfearing
family.
Right from kids, Morgan and I were brought up to believe in the Lord. We
weren’t compelled to go to church or anything, and to this day the family are not
churchgoers. In fact, I’m the only one who does go to church on a somewhat
regular basis. On Sunday mornings when I’m home, I drive over to the Catholic
church, where people know me. I was not baptized a Catholic, but it suits me, its
beliefs and doctrines sit easily with me. Since I was young, I have always been
able to recite the Twenty-third Psalm and several others from beginning to end.
Also, I thought the late Pope John Paul was the holiest man in the world, an
uncompromising Vicar of Christ, a man whose guidelines were unshakable.
Tough old guy, John Paul. A lot too tough for the Russians. I’ve always thought
if he hadn’t been a vicar, he’d have made a good Navy SEAL.
Down home, in our quiet backwoods area, it looks like an untroubled life.
There are a few minor irritants, most of those being snakes. However, Dad
taught us how to deal with them long ago, especially the coral snakes and those
copperhead vipers. There’s also rattlesnakes, eastern diamondbacks, and king
snakes, which eat the others. In the local lake you can find the occasional water
moccasin, and he is one mean little sonofabitch. He’ll chase you, and while I
don’t much like ’em, I’m not scared of them. Morgan goes after them as a sport,
likes to hustle ’em up, keep ’em alert.
A mile or so up the road from us, there’s a mighty herd of Texas longhorns.
Beyond the house there’s a half dozen paddocks for my mom’s horses, some of
them belonging to her, others boarders from other people.
People send horses to her for her near-mystical power to bring sick or weak
animals back to full fighting form. No one knows how she does it. She’s plainly
a horse whisperer. But she has some special ways of feeding them, including, for
a certain type of ailing racehorse, some kind of a seaweed concoction she swears
to God can turn a cow pony into Secretariat. Sorry, Mom. Didn’t mean that. Just
joking.
Seriously, Holly Luttrell is a brilliant horsewoman. And she does turn horses
that seem very poorly into gleaming, healthy runners again. I guess that’s why
those horses keep on coming. She can only cope with about ten at a time, and
she’s out there in the barn at five every morning looking after them. If you take
the time, you can see the effect she has on them, the very obvious results of her
very obvious skills.