to do with the role he played, defending his country, and his training.
He worked hard to be an honest man. And during quiet moments like this, he sensed that the lives he had taken in the line of duty had left a dark spot on his soul. When he thought about the young men he had trained and led, and all the young men and women in the armed forces who had killed others in combat, he knew that the emotional scars would stay with them forever.
There was a spiritual price a warrior had to pay, and Crocker saw honor in that, not shame. You had to be brave enough to look the horror of war in the face and acknowledge the shortcomings of mankind. Then suck it up and move on.
He faced forward and straightened his seat as the American Airlines pilot announced that the three-and-a-half-hour flight from Norfolk was about to end at Dallas–Fort Worth airport. After a two-hour layover, he and the other four SEALs would catch another two-and-a-half-hour flight to Guadalajara. They’d arrive around 1900 hours local, less than two days from the kidnappers’ deadline.
Maybe because this was their first mission without Ritchie, the guys on the team seemed uncharacteristically quiet and lost in their own thoughts. Mancini sat behind him reading a book titled What the Dog Saw by Malcolm Gladwell. Davis beside him watched Braveheart on his laptop.
Suárez and Akil, across the aisle, were the only ones talking. Crocker heard Suárez ask Akil if he was Muslim and heard Akil answer, “Yeah. So what?”
“You don’t have a problem fighting the war on terror against Muslim extremists?” Suárez asked.
“No,” Akil answered. “Just like you’re part Mexican, and we’re on our way to that country now to kick the asses of some nasty mofos there.”
“What I’m talking about is different,” Suárez explained.
His skin was browner than Akil’s, and he had brilliant black eyes and a wide face with a scar that ran from his cheekbone to his chin—the result of a diving accident during training.
“You’re talking about nationality,” Suárez said. “I’m talking about religious beliefs.”
“You Christian?” the taller, broader Akil asked.
From across the aisle, Crocker watched Suárez make the sign of the cross. “Yes,” he answered, “the Lord Jesus Christ is my savior.”
“Then how can you be in the business of annihilating our enemies when Jesus told his followers to turn the other cheek?”
It was a good question, Crocker thought. Suárez responded by reciting Matthew 5:39: “‘But I tell you, do not resist an evil person. If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also.’”
“That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” argued Akil.
“The Scripture also says in Exodus 22:2, ‘If a thief be found breaking up, and be smitten that he die, there shall no blood be shed for him.’”
“So…”
“To me that means one has the right to defend his home, his family, and his country,” Suárez explained. “Because aren’t the terrorists we fight against the same as thieves who are trying to steal our freedoms and liberties?”
Akil grinned. “Maybe.”
“Or maybe not,” Suárez mused out loud. “I ask myself those questions all the time and pray for an answer.”
“Do you get one?”
“Sometimes.”
Crocker liked Suárez more already. He wanted strong men with consciences who understood the personal and spiritual sacrifices they were making, not stone-cold killers and sociopaths.
And he hoped that Suárez and Akil were getting off on the right foot but wasn’t sure when he exited the plane beside Akil, who described the new team member as “a nice guy with shit for brains.”
Crocker said, “Don’t be so judgmental, and cut the new guy some slack.”
“I’ll try.”
After the dull sameness of the plane cabin and the stale air, the sights and sounds of the Dallas–Fort Worth airport terminal woke him up. Tall, buxom blondes; an old couple holding hands while
He worked hard to be an honest man. And during quiet moments like this, he sensed that the lives he had taken in the line of duty had left a dark spot on his soul. When he thought about the young men he had trained and led, and all the young men and women in the armed forces who had killed others in combat, he knew that the emotional scars would stay with them forever.
There was a spiritual price a warrior had to pay, and Crocker saw honor in that, not shame. You had to be brave enough to look the horror of war in the face and acknowledge the shortcomings of mankind. Then suck it up and move on.
He faced forward and straightened his seat as the American Airlines pilot announced that the three-and-a-half-hour flight from Norfolk was about to end at Dallas–Fort Worth airport. After a two-hour layover, he and the other four SEALs would catch another two-and-a-half-hour flight to Guadalajara. They’d arrive around 1900 hours local, less than two days from the kidnappers’ deadline.
Maybe because this was their first mission without Ritchie, the guys on the team seemed uncharacteristically quiet and lost in their own thoughts. Mancini sat behind him reading a book titled What the Dog Saw by Malcolm Gladwell. Davis beside him watched Braveheart on his laptop.
Suárez and Akil, across the aisle, were the only ones talking. Crocker heard Suárez ask Akil if he was Muslim and heard Akil answer, “Yeah. So what?”
“You don’t have a problem fighting the war on terror against Muslim extremists?” Suárez asked.
“No,” Akil answered. “Just like you’re part Mexican, and we’re on our way to that country now to kick the asses of some nasty mofos there.”
“What I’m talking about is different,” Suárez explained.
His skin was browner than Akil’s, and he had brilliant black eyes and a wide face with a scar that ran from his cheekbone to his chin—the result of a diving accident during training.
“You’re talking about nationality,” Suárez said. “I’m talking about religious beliefs.”
“You Christian?” the taller, broader Akil asked.
From across the aisle, Crocker watched Suárez make the sign of the cross. “Yes,” he answered, “the Lord Jesus Christ is my savior.”
“Then how can you be in the business of annihilating our enemies when Jesus told his followers to turn the other cheek?”
It was a good question, Crocker thought. Suárez responded by reciting Matthew 5:39: “‘But I tell you, do not resist an evil person. If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also.’”
“That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” argued Akil.
“The Scripture also says in Exodus 22:2, ‘If a thief be found breaking up, and be smitten that he die, there shall no blood be shed for him.’”
“So…”
“To me that means one has the right to defend his home, his family, and his country,” Suárez explained. “Because aren’t the terrorists we fight against the same as thieves who are trying to steal our freedoms and liberties?”
Akil grinned. “Maybe.”
“Or maybe not,” Suárez mused out loud. “I ask myself those questions all the time and pray for an answer.”
“Do you get one?”
“Sometimes.”
Crocker liked Suárez more already. He wanted strong men with consciences who understood the personal and spiritual sacrifices they were making, not stone-cold killers and sociopaths.
And he hoped that Suárez and Akil were getting off on the right foot but wasn’t sure when he exited the plane beside Akil, who described the new team member as “a nice guy with shit for brains.”
Crocker said, “Don’t be so judgmental, and cut the new guy some slack.”
“I’ll try.”
After the dull sameness of the plane cabin and the stale air, the sights and sounds of the Dallas–Fort Worth airport terminal woke him up. Tall, buxom blondes; an old couple holding hands while
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