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

of my great Texas friends, Tray Baker, showed us how to deal with them. I
wrestled with one once and was pretty glad when that sucker decided he’d had
enough and took off for calmer waters. But to this day my brother loves to
wrestle alligators, just for fun. He is, of course, crazy. But we sometimes take an
old flat-bottomed boat fishing in the lake, and one of those big ole gators will
come sliding up alongside the boat.
Morgan makes a quick assessment — Nostrils about eight or nine inches
from his eyes, so he’s eight or nine feet long. Morgan executes a ramrod-straight
low-angled dive right on top of the gator, clamping its jaws shut with his fists,
then he twists it and turns it, gets on its back, all the while holding those huge
jaws tight shut and laughing at the panic-stricken beast of the deep.
After a few minutes they both get fed up with it, and Morgan lets it go. I
always think this is the most dangerous part. But I never saw a gator who felt
like having another go at Morgan. They always just turn around and swim away
from the area. He only misjudged it once, and his hand bears a line of alligatorteeth
scars.
You know, I think Dad always wanted us to be Navy SEALs. He was forever
telling us about those elite warriors, the stuff they did and what they stood for. In
his opinion they were all that is best in the American male — courage,
patriotism, strength, determination, refusal to accept defeat, brains, expertise in
all that they did. All through our young lives he told us about those guys. And
over the years, it sunk in, I suppose. Morgan and I both made it.
I was about twelve when I realized beyond doubt that I was going to become
a Navy SEAL. And I knew a lot more about it than most kids of my age. I
understood the brutality of the training, the level of fitness required, and the need
for super skills in the water. I thought I would be able to handle that. Dad had
told us of the importance of marksmanship, and I knew I could do that.
SEALs need to be at home in rough country, able to survive, live in the
jungle if necessary. We were already good at that. By the age of twelve, Morgan
and I were like a couple of wild animals, at home in the great outdoors, at home
with a fishing pole and gun, easily able to live off the land.
But deep down I knew there was something more required to make it into the
world’s top combat teams. And that was a level of fitness and strength that could
only be attained by those who actively sought it. Nothing just happens. You
always have to strive.
In our part of East Texas, there are a lot of past and present special forces
guys, quiet, understated iron men, most of them unsung heroes except among