Free Tom Sileo by Brothers Forever Page B

uncomfortable seconds as everyone, from coyotes to Marines out in the desert, waited for the young second lieutenant’s response.
    â€œNo, sir,” Travis said. “But I did stay at a Holiday Inn Express last night.”
    A crescendo of hooting, hollering, and laughter ensued as Marines, young and old, exorcised a long day of stress in the desert. While Marines closest to Coyote 6 did their best to contain their amusement, others, including the helicopter pilot, laughed thehardest they had in days. The audacity displayed by this young Marine officer was downright astonishing. What would the overbearing instructor do to him in response?
    Silence filled the airwaves as the combat simulation continued. Coyote 6 never responded, because after all, what could he say? Without defying authority, Travis had disarmed the coyote with his dry sense of humor. Confronting Travis would have been an unpopular move, and the instructor knew it.
    When Travis returned to battalion headquarters, fellow Marine officers patted him on the back as they replayed what had already become a classic moment.
    Less than a month later Travis was once again “the new guy,” but this time in Iraq’s Al Anbar province, where so much American and Iraqi blood had already been spilled. As the 1st Reconnaissance Battalion’s maintenance management officer at Camp Fallujah, his responsibilities, which were focused on making sure vehicles were correctly allocated, fueled, and repaired, were undoubtedly important. But sitting on the sidelines while others went “outside the wire” to fight was definitely not what the Marine had envisioned at Twentynine Palms.
    Throughout the predeployment exercises, Travis thought he was about to spend the next eight months fighting for his country on the streets of Al Anbar province. Soon after arriving at Camp Fallujah, however, Travis worried that he was going to spend the next nine months stacking supplies and pushing pencils.
    His yearning to leave the base and confront the enemy was visible, and the older, more seasoned officers serving with Travis thought the new guy from the Naval Academy needed to chill out. Being the unit’s only second lieutenant—the most junior of officer ranks—made life even more difficult for Travis, as second lieutenants were almost always subject to an “initiation” phase in which they would be put in their place by the officers in charge. It was all harmless, but for someone with ambitions as high as Travis had, it wasn’t always easy.
    Travis didn’t want to leave Iraq feeling that he had not had a chance to use the skills he spent so many years developing. He discussed his concerns with First Lieutenants Carlo Pecori and Croft Young, two Marines he had met in training who were also part of the 1st Marine Reconnaissance Battalion. The two Marines, who had already seen action in Fallujah, urged Travis to keep his chin up and look for opportunities to make a difference. He appreciated their advice, but remained frustrated.
    Then Travis got an e-mail from one of his mentors, Coach Joel Sharratt.
    â€œDo not let your guard down or become complacent with your job,” his former wrestling coach wrote. Sharratt, who had consoled Travis after his worst wrestling defeat and on the flight to Brett Harman’s funeral, told Travis to focus on the honor and privilege of having the chance to have an impact where he could.
    â€œLearn everything you can every second you can,” he wrote. “Study the tactics, study the people, study the culture [and] know them. More importantly, know yourself and be vigilant not to let up on yourself preparing for the unexpected.”
    The first major bright spot for Travis was playing a big role in preparations for Iraq’s historic constitutional referendum on October 15, 2005. In order for millions of Iraqis to exercise their newfound right to vote, security had to be heavy, especially in