Tom Sileo

by Brothers Forever

  Standing a few feet from Brendan, the president thanked Navy’s coach after being presented with a football autographed by all members of the team. After a few words of encouragement and a handshake with his former GOP presidential primary rival, Senator John McCain of Arizona, President Bush headed over to the Army locker room, where Operation Desert Storm hero and West Point graduate General Norman Schwarzkopf was meeting with the Army squad.

  The president, who had taken office less than a year earlier after one of the closest elections in American history, was in his first weeks as a wartime commander-in-chief. But in his address to the Army players, he left no doubt that the war on terrorism, as his administration called the new conflict, would be part of America’s fabric for many years to come. President Bush told the Army Black Knights that though Navy’s players were their rivals on the field today, they would be their brothers in arms on the battlefield tomorrow.

  Back in the Navy locker room, Senator McCain, one of the academy’s most famous graduates, delivered an impassioned speech to the players representing his beloved alma mater. While McCain’s words were potent, Brendan and his Navy teammates only needed to look into the eyes of the sixty-five-year-old senator, who had endured years of brutal torture and solitary confinement while being held captive in a North Vietnamese prison, to know that this landmark game was one step on a long journey toward becoming warriors.

  Travis was in State College, Pennsylvania, to compete in the annual Penn State Open wrestling tournament. He would have to rely on accounts from friends, including Brendan, to truly understand the atmosphere that day at “the Vet.”

  Army and Navy roared onto the field led by huge American flags. Navy SEAL and Army paratroopers, also with US flags in tow, glided onto the field’s artificial turf with Army and Navy parachutes. The Navy and Army team captains then stood at midfield with President Bush for the coin toss, as chants of “U-S-A!” filled the stadium.

  With visibly cold air billowing from his mouth, Brendan, who wore number 37, soaked in the atmosphere from the sideline while looking up at the stands. Standing next to J. P. Blecksmith, a wide receiver and backup quarterback, Brendan listened to a stirring rendition of the national anthem while looking up at the massive group of uniformed midshipmen, which included many of his friends.

  Army won the game, 26–17. But for one day, a stadium full of more than sixty-five thousand screaming fans was united, as was much of the country.

  “There’s never been a game, ever—including the eight Super Bowls that I’ve called—there’s never been a game more important than calling that Army-Navy game,” legendary broadcaster Dick Enberg, who handled play-by-play announcing for CBS Sports that day, later said.

  In 2002, as the war in Afghanistan continued and talk of another war in Iraq intensified, Travis and Brendan, who were now roommates, understood the significance of the times they were living in. They also knew how to have fun.

  Andrew Hemminger was one of Travis’s wrestling teammates. He had known Brendan since their plebe year. When his two buddies became roommates, goofing off in their room became one of Hemminger’s favorite activities. He was entertained not only by Brendan and Travis’s shared sense of humor, but also by their epic video game showdowns in Madden football and Tiger Woods golf.

  When Travis beat Brendan, Brendan would sit quietly and steam for the next few hours until Travis wanted to play again. When Brendan beat Travis, Travis would bother him incessantly until Brendan finally granted his request for a rematch. What impressed Hemminger the most, however, was how quickly the roommates could refocus when it was time to be serious.

  During a summer fishing trip to North Carolina’s Outer Banks, Hemminger and his brother, Dan, were with Brendan and several friends when the booze began to flow on the eve of their boat excursion. As more and more drinks were consumed, several of the guys began arguing over who would catch the biggest fish when they went out on the water the next morning.

  Numerous friends offered Brendan drinks as he sat quietly amid the increasingly boisterous festivities. Brendan, sporting his customary smirk, politely declined.

  “Are you sure you guys want to keep drinking?” Brendan cautioned the group, who carried on for several more hours despite his warning.

  The next morning, in the boat out on choppy waters, Brendan shook his head as the Hemminger brothers and everyone else draped themselves over the sides of the vessel. Hung over and seasick, they were throwing up while Brendan adjusted his fishing rod.

  “Remind me again who’s going to catch the biggest fish?” Brendan asked with a grin.

  Though Brendan was in the best condition that morning, he wasn’t really concerned about catching the biggest fish. Instead, he sat in the boat and shared laughs with his nauseated friends, making sure they rehydrated after vomiting for most of the morning.

  During a subsequent trip to Colorado Springs, the Hemminger brothers were with Travis when their wrestling coach challenged them to a grueling 12½-mile trail hike to the top of Pikes Peak. Naturally the athletes turned the climb into a fierce competition that Travis was determined to win.

  After the Hemmingers, Travis, and their teammates separated into respective groups of three, they didn’t encounter each other again until they were just steps from the mountain’s summit. Travis had indeed beaten the Hemmingers there, but the biggest member of his group, heavyweight wrestler Steve Kovach, was struggling to breathe after several hours of climbing through the thin Rocky Mountain air.

  Travis wanted to reach the gigantic mountain’s soaring peak first. But upon seeing his teammate’s condition, he set the competition aside.

  “I’m going to head back down with Stevie,” Travis said.

  By the time Travis had helped Kovach almost twelve miles down the Pikes Peak trail, it was clear to everyone what he was all about. Travis wanted to win, but like Brendan, his friends came first.

  During most of their time in Annapolis, Travis and Brendan shared another trait. As red-blooded American college kids, they wanted to meet as many beautiful women as possible. Travis was often popular with the ladies and would usually return from a night at the bars with at least one new phone number. In one memorable case, his charm extended into the classroom, when Travis managed to put a female professor in a better mood during a disastrous presentation by one of his friends.

  As his buddy Myles McAllister stumbled through the assignment, Travis sat in the back of the classroom, laughing hysterically and smirking at the instructor. While smiling back at Travis and chuckling at his antics, her attention was diverted from McAllister’s cringe-inducing performance.

  “You really saved my ass in there,” McAllister said as they laughed about the presentation after class.

  “I have to admit, that was the worst presentation I’ve ever seen,” a smiling Travis said while reassuring McAllister that he would probably receive a passing grade. “You’ll be fine. . . . I think that teacher’s got a crush on me.”

  Travis’s friend did in fact receive a passing grade from the teacher.

  Though Brendan had a similar effect on the women of Annapolis, he was usually more reserved in classroom and social settings. That all changed on Memorial Day weekend in 2003.

  With the country now at war in Iraq, on that Sunday Brendan, a Naval Academy junior, was driving back from the Jersey Shore, where he had met up with some high school buddies. He was heading to Baltimore to hang out with a large group of DeMatha friends at Fell’s Point, a quaint, popular area of waterfront shops, restaurants, and bars that bore a striking resemblance to Annapolis.

  As Brendan walked into The Greene Turtle sports bar to greet his buddies, his gaze wandered to a large table, where a gorgeous blonde was sitting with mutual friends near a wall covered with Baltimore Orioles and Ravens memorabilia. She was sipping a margarita, nodding and smiling as one of her friends told a funny story.

  Brendan couldn’t get over her big brown eyes. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever s
een.

  “Go talk to her,” said Ryan Gillis, who had noticed Brendan staring.

  “No way,” Brendan said. “She’s way too hot. . . . I’d have no chance.”

  “Fine,” Gillis, now a football player at Notre Dame, remarked as several at the table, including the young woman Brendan was admiring, got up and moved to the dance floor. “I’ll go dance with her then.”

  Gillis, who openly admitted to being a terrible dancer, headed out to the dance floor in order to motivate his reluctant friend, much as Brendan had once inspired him to keep busting his tail during long “two-a-day” high school football practices.

  “Dude, seriously, she’s still looking over here,” another friend said to Brendan as Gillis made the woman’s friends laugh with some truly terrible dance moves.

  Brendan quickly changed the subject and started talking about the recent return of Hall of Fame coach Joe Gibbs to his beloved Washington Redskins. But after a few minutes of guy talk, about five friends gave the imposing, nearly six-foot-tall midshipman an ultimatum.

  “Go talk to that girl, or we’re all going to kick your ass,” one friend said.

  Gillis returned from the dance floor just in time to hear the challenge.

  “Are we still talking about this?” asked Gillis, out of breath from dancing. “Looney, I mean it this time, if you don’t go over there I really will dance with her.” He smiled. “So it looks like you have two choices. One, you go talk to her; two, I go dance with her and on top of it, we all punch you in the face.”

  Responding with his customary smirk, Brendan took a deep breath as he walked toward the radiant blonde and her group of friends, who were dancing in an open area near the bar. As the setting sun reflected off the Baltimore Harbor outside the front window, Brendan took a gulp of beer and walked over to introduce himself.

  Just as he was about to say hello, one of his friends, who was already drunk, pushed him right into the middle of the group, causing him to bump into the young woman he had been admiring since walking in the door.

  “I’m really sorry,” Brendan said.

  “That’s okay,” she said with a laugh. “I’m Amy.”

  “Brendan,” he said, extending his hand.

  After spending the next minute or two dancing, Amy Hastings, who could tell this good-looking guy liked her but was hesitant, finally broke the ice.

  “Do you play football?” she said.

  Brendan, who was two hundred pounds of pure muscle with a white “Navy Athletics” hat on top, certainly looked the part of a college football star.

  “I actually just started playing lacrosse,” he said. “I was on the football team my freshman and sophomore year. I only started playing lacrosse a year ago, but I love it. My brothers have been playing for years.”

  What instantly struck Amy was not which sport Brendan played, but his commanding presence and the sincerity with which he spoke. She was attracted to him.

  Brendan and Amy went over to the bar, where he bought her another drink and asked where she was from. Amy told him about growing up in Delaware before moving south to Maryland, where she was currently attending Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore. Both Brendan and Amy smiled when they realized that their respective high schools, Archbishop Spalding in Severn and DeMatha in Hyattsville, were less than thirty miles apart.

  Amy had grown up watching her mother juggle a full-time job and a single-parent home, whereas Brendan came from a family of two happily married parents and five siblings. But even after the minor contrast surfaced, Amy and Brendan quickly realized they had much in common. They both loved their families and friends; they had attended local high schools; and they shared many of the same values, goals, and dreams. With Brendan at Navy and Amy at Johns Hopkins, they knew they both possessed the strong work ethic required to succeed at academically rigorous institutions.

  While continuing to talk, Brendan and Amy decided to play the popular “Golden Tee” video game. Brendan may have been one of the most competitive people on the planet, but if there was ever a time to let someone else win, this was it.

  Before the game was over, Brendan glanced over toward his buddies, who were psyched to see him hitting it off with such a beautiful girl.

  “Gentlemen, I propose a toast,” Gillis said to some of Brendan’s closest high school friends. “I think we just did a good thing.”

  Brendan smiled in their direction before turning back to the young lady he could already tell was special. After exchanging more pleasantries, Amy said that she should probably get back to her friends. If Brendan didn’t speak up, he would probably never see her again.

  As Amy picked up her purse and headed back over to the dance floor, Brendan channeled all his willpower to say five words.

  “Can I get your number?” he asked.

  “Sure,” Amy replied, relieved that he had asked.

  Amy and Brendan flipped their respective cell phones open and saved each other’s numbers. She then gave him a quick hug and said good-bye.

  Afraid of appearing overly anxious, and perhaps inspired by the dating advice Vince Vaughn gave Jon Favreau in the 1996 cult movie Swingers, Brendan waited three days before calling Amy, who lived about a half hour away in Columbia, Maryland. Despite being surprised and slightly annoyed by the seventy-two-hour wait, Amy gave Brendan a chance to redeem himself on their first date. He succeeded, and after a few short months, the young couple were inseparable.

  On November 26, 2003, Amy got a Hallmark card in the mail, postmarked from Annapolis:

  Amy,

  Hard to believe that 6 months ago we met. Time has really flown by. I guess the saying is right, the last 6 months have been the best I have ever had. I would not trade a single day for anything in the universe. You truly have made me a better person and given me a lot. I am excited for the next 6 months, a lot will be changing, but with you there it will not be as bad. I love you with all my heart sweet heart and can’t wait to see what is in our future.

  Love ya!

  Brendan

  Amy had already met Travis, Brendan’s funny, likable roommate, who always seemed to be wearing an Eagles hat and telling her new boyfriend that the Redskins were lousy. She also went along with Brendan and Travis for what was supposed to be a three-mile jog, until the roommates started challenging each other to keep going.

  After jogging more than twelve miles—nearly a half-marathon—Amy convinced them to turn around. Whether it was NFL football, video games, or running, everything was a competition for Brendan and Travis.

  Although she enjoyed Travis’s company, Amy wasn’t expecting to see him one late April Friday night in 2004, which was supposed to be a dinner and movie date with Brendan, whom she was meeting at the Arundel Mills Mall in Hanover, Maryland.

  Inside Arundel Mills, Amy walked around a crowded bar and restaurant, weaving through the crowd while seeking Brendan. After looking around for about ninety seconds, she saw Travis sitting in the rear section of the bar area, almost exactly where Brendan had said to meet him.

  Brendan’s roommate’s gaze was transfixed on CNN, which was showing searing images from the Battle of Fallujah. One of the Iraq war’s most intense, violent clashes erupted after terrorists murdered four American contractors, mutilated their corpses, and hung their bodies from a bridge. Thousands of Americans, including US Marine Captain Doug Zembiec, the former Navy wrestler whom Travis looked up to, were going street by street, battling insurgents inside the decimated western Iraqi city.

  Travis was so focused on the television that he almost didn’t hear Amy speak.

  “Hey, Travis,” Amy said, looking surprised. “What are you doing here?”

  “Oh, hey, Amy,” Travis said. “Yeah, I’m actually meeting you and Brendan.”

  “Oh really?” Amy asked. “Are you going to the movies with us, too?”

  “Yeah, didn’t Brendan tell you?” Travis asked with a grin.

  As Amy and Travis shared a laugh, Brendan showed up a few minutes late
after an extra long workout.

  “So, Brendan, did you plan on telling me Travis was coming along tonight?” Amy asked with a smile. “I thought this was supposed to be a date.”

  “It is,” Brendan replied. “But this loser Eagles fan is going to be our honorary chaperone.”

  Brendan, Amy, and Travis ate dinner and then went to the movie theater to see Mean Girls, starring Lindsay Lohan and Rachel McAdams.

  Inside the theater, Amy enjoyed Travis and Brendan’s reactions even more than the movie itself. They were laughing so loudly that Amy couldn’t help but join in. Though she may have preferred to be on a romantic date with Brendan, it was impossible not to have a good time when Travis was around.

  Later that night Travis, Brendan, and Amy stopped at a bar for a quick beer.

  “Brendan, I’m not sure if you saw some of the shit that went down in Fallujah today,” Travis said.

  “I was watching one of the news channels at the gym earlier,” Brendan replied. “Brutal stuff, man.”

  “It’s terrible,” Amy said.

  “Well, you know what?” Travis said. “I want to propose a toast to our men and women fighting over there. . . . Only God knows what they’re going through right now.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” Brendan said.

  “So will I,” Amy said as their three glasses clinked.

  The Iraq war and upcoming presidential election were dividing the country in the spring of 2004. The conflict had dragged on longer than many Americans had expected after US troops routed Baghdad and watched as Iraqis tore down statues of Saddam Hussein just weeks after the initial invasion.

  In Iraq in 2003, 486 US service members died; 849 American families lost loved ones in Iraq in 2004. Senator John Kerry, the Democratic presidential nominee, was running on a platform opposing America’s involvement in the Iraq war. President Bush, who had lost much of the record-high popularity he enjoyed after 9/11, insisted his strategy was working and that America would ultimately prevail in Iraq.