United States Army People

"David Bellavia was the first living recipient of the Iraq War to receive our nation's highest military award, the Medal of Honor. In June 2019, at a White House ceremony, David joined America's most exclusive and heroic club. He is one of only 3,525 individuals who have earned that illustrious award since its creation in 1861. David is grateful that he was nominated and selected for his actions in the Second Battle of Fallujah in 2004, while keeping things in perspective."

"They name me the first living recipient to earn the Medal of Honor for bravery in the Iraq War. A coworker of mine reads about the award. "Hey, some guy with your name is getting the Medal of Honor. Isn't that weird? How many David Bellavias are out there?" "I know, right? It's so weird," I say. It's surreal and unnatural to get credit when you've lived your entire life to be about the team. It's never about the individual. I'm not here to celebrate me. I decide to be the first guy to bring his entire unit to the ceremony. If I'm going to go through with this, I'm going to go with the guys that I did it with fifteen years ago. So I get the whole crew in. I bring thirty-two service members to the ceremony in the East Room at the White House in June 2019, including the twelve who were there with me on that night in 2004, plus five Gold Star families, the interpreter, and Mick Ware."

""Into the Hot Zone," the article Mick Ware writes about that night, is Time magazine's cover story less than two weeks later. I earn a Silver Star. But all I hear for ten years is, "Bullshit. I don't believe it. That didn't happen." Then I get a call from the military paper Stars and Stripes. "Hey, you're nominated for the Medal of Honor, did you know that? I hear there's a videotape. Do you have a comment? I'm immediately on the defensive. No one who's served in Iraq has received the US Armed Forces' highest military decoration, except posthumously. "What's on the tape? How did you find out?" The Army's trying to tell me that I'm getting the Medal of Honor, and I'm acting like they're trying to put me in jail. Turns out Ware sold a documentary to HBO. He filmed the entire firefight. Honestly, Ware's anti-war and pro-freedom for the press to tell the truth, but he's got the biggest balls of anyone I've ever met in my life. He was right there the whole time. Because of Michael Ware, everything is corroborated. He was recording the fight the entire time."

"A native of Buffalo, New York, David grew up the youngest of four sons. His maternal grandfather, Joseph Brunacini, had a great influence on him. Grandpa Joe served in the army during the Normandy campaign and was awarded a Bronze Star... Following his graduation from the University of Buffalo, David enlisted in the Army in 1999. Originally assigned to a recruiting battalion so his infant son could receive medical care, David eventually became an infantryman. He served in Kosovo and Operations Iraqi Freedom I and II. David left the Army in 2005 and co-founded Vets for Freedom, an advocacy group for combat veterans and their battlefield mission. He also worked as an embedded reporter in Iraq before returning to the United States, and lives in New York State with his wife and three children."

"I never really thought about legacy when I was in a fight. A legacy is what old men think about when they're dying. But now I realize how important that legacy is."

"It's important to have different perspectives, and journalism supports that. Today, everyone has an opinion about everything. COVID-19 happens, and suddenly we're all research specialists posting our findings on Facebook or wherever. What we don't do is properly consider the sources of our material, our "facts." Everyone responds emotionally to everything. We paint millennials in a bad light: the iGeneration is awful; but the truth is that my parents' generation thought the same things about us. We were couch potatoes; we lived in our parents' basements until we were twenty-five. Then the Twin Towers fell. Every generation is going to be tested. And some people are going to answer the call. Fortunately, I believe that many liberals shoot as straight as conservatives. I served with a lot of guys who hated George W. Bush and his reasons for taking us to war. Now they didn't vote for President Trump. But under fire, they saved my life and they made sure I came home. Those guys are my family. I love them to death. We argue about politics every single day, but we also see beyond that."

"The only way to bridge the divide is if everyone realizes that we all have skin in the game. Everyone has to serve. Does that means they have to be in the military, that we should reinstate the draft? No. We all have to do something that's about doing something for someone other than ourselves. And we should realize that as soldiers, as warriors, we swore an oath of allegiance to a document, to the US Constitution. We were there protecting a document and what that document represents. We chose to go be uncomfortable so that others could remain in comfort. We didn't do it for our careers or our bottom line."

"We have business on the battlefield, but when that's over, you look back and say, "I hope every person in our country can see a stranger as important as themselves." If you're willing to do things for them, I just think that's the meaning of life. I'm not going to get thanked, you're not going to know my name, you're not going to pay me, and I will still do it. The closest thing I've ever seen to God is when you see people sacrifice knowingly without any concern for themselves."

"Nothing against SEALs and Green Berets and other Special Operations units. They're elite. But there are a lot of just average, normal guys out there that do above-average things. They're a representation of what I believe is the American ethos. It's not necessarily a warrior ethos; it's something that we have in our DNA, and we've had it from our nation's inception. We overcome fear. People ask me, "What do you fear most in the world?" My answer is that I fear fear. I'm afraid of becoming afraid. You have to overcome it in every aspect of your life- whether that's asking that girl out on a date, applying for a job, killing a cockroach in the kitchen. There's something that you're going to have to face."

"I believe that peer pressure is an incredible thing. We always seem to talk about it in negative ways. But sometimes peer pressure gets you through difficult times because it's impossible to take a step backward when everyone else is moving forward. The easiest job in the world is to lead. The most difficult job is to follow. You have to trust that guy out in front. You have to trust their guidance and do what it takes to not be the weakest link in the chain."

"I found that in the worst part of humanity, there's like this... it's just like God's grace just shows up. You actually feel the presence of God in the worst situation possible. And not just Americans, but the enemy. The enemy is doing beautiful things for each other because they're in it together. It doesn't make me want to stop shooting, but it makes me respect the hell out of them, and it changes my life forever, too. Because we're not fighting storm troopers, and we're not fighting a bunch of yahoos. We're fighting people that are into their cause, believe in their cause, and will die for their cause."

"My greatest regret has always been leaving the service I so dearly loved. I tried to make it work at home, but but the pull of the battlefield was too strong. Out there, I had meaning and purpose. You live on the raged edge of danger that forces you to confront your own mortality. Every breath becomes euphoric. You exist in a different emotional framework. In rural western New York, life's color was drained away by a million little nicks. You stress over bills and taxes, a car that's become unreliable. The house needs siding, the floors in the kitchen need to be redone. All the logistical headaches of modern life take center stage and start to define your life. Out there, on the battlefield, none of that shit matters. None of it. The complexities vanish, and everything boils down to this: can you measure up? When you do, you feel like a rock star. Nothing- no drug in the world- can compare to that moment of self-discovery. For me, self-discovery in combat convinced me the essence of life distills down to one thing: proving to yourself why you are needed in the fight."

"For now, I look forward to the time when Evan and his younger brother can play together. I see them in the backyard, both clad in boy-sized desert camo, low-crawling through the grass as they ambush neighborhood kids, playing the bad guys, and save the day. Each attack executed to the pinnacle of absolute doctrinal perfection, a perfection that only a well-rehearsed combat element can unleash. Evan cooks off the pine-cone grenade as his brother lays down plunging suppressive fire. Each boy will have his own Bellavia nametape on his chest. Each face camouflaged in tiger stripes. Evan, after all, means "Little warrior." As for my youngest son, Aiden, he carries the middle name of an unsung but still great American hero: Edward Iwan. Aiden Edward Bellavia. May he grow to be half the patriot of his namesake."

"In 2004 in Fallujah, we were involved in so many direct fire engagements. We made eye contact with the enemy. And we lost guys. That was a totally different experience, losing someone that way. You automatically had to address Okay, not only did that just happen, but someone made this happen. That person is still here. House fighting, especially in an urban environment, the sense you most rely on- hearing- is gone. You devolve into an almost animalistic being. Like, I'm smelling this guy. I see a pristine drinking cup on the counter and everything else is covered in dust and grime. A piece of cheese sits on a plate. There's a person here. You become a wolf- just sniffing the air and smelling. Everything stops. Your whole body freezes. You don't breathe. You don't think. All you do is become a single, focused thought: There's a threat here and it needs to be put down."

"I was always told that this wasn't my role. I was too smart. We worked so hard so that you could become a dentist. Well, I thought, you worked so hard so that I could have a choice."

"When the wind blows just right sometimes I close my eyes and still envision a heat-scorched stretch of highway. There is a watchtower burning in the distance. It is Highway South Five, the checkpoint we couldn't save from destruction back in Muqdadiyah almost three years ago. My platoon stands on both sides of the road. Bullets are heard in the distance, but there isn't any danger. Each soldier I pass stares at me for what seems like an eternity. Their faces are covered in sweat and soot. They just stare at me expressionless and move to the side as I pass. Fitss spits dip juice onto the road. Captain Sean Sims and Doug Walter look up at me from their map. Sergeant Major fixes his boot lace. And Lieutenant Ed Iwan nods at me. As the smoke from the burning checkpoint billows up from behind, the images from my past get smaller and smaller. Until, finally, all is open road. I have permission to move on."

"It was a bittersweet thought. There are never happy endings in the Army. There is no closure, not with friends or enemies."

"Being empowered by our military service is the greatest gift you can ever receive. Knowing that you've been through worse and got through it is an amazing feeling. And you got through it because it wasn't about me. I wasn't doing it for me. I was doing it for other people. It wasn't ever about me. It was always about other people."

"I don't have the nightmares that I read other veterans are having. None of my old friends do either. I don't dream about seven-foot insurgents chasing me down Iraqi streets. And yet I think about Iraq almost every day of my life. Almost every dream I have is about Iraq, but none of them are bad. There will constantly be regret, sorrow for those we lost, but never nightmares. I will always hate war, but will be forever proud of mine."

"The Ramrods were part of the legendary 1st Infantry Division. Movies have been made on the Big Red One for its actions on D-Day and through Europe during World War II. The Fighting First fought in nearly every major American battle of World War I; it saw combat for five years in Vietnam before being forward deployed to Germany to face the Warsaw Pact/Soviet threat during the final decades of the Cold War. The Big Red One is the backbone of the American infantry. These days, it is sometimes overshadowed by the airborne divisions in the popular press. The 1st Infantry Division, with the Ramrods at the top of the spear, has won every battle it has fought since 1918."

"Honor. What an overused word. It's an abstraction. Who can define it? All year in Iraq, I've stood with my men. If they had to fill sandbags until three in the morning, I'd be out there in the dirt and mud with them. I would never give an order, then go relax as they worked. My example is all I have as a noncommissioned officer. I take pride in that. That is my honor. I've always told my men not to be afraid in combat. When the bullets start flying, they need to man-up and dish it back tenfold. How many times have I drilled this into them? Perhaps telling them to be unafraid is unrealistic. We're all human. Fear walks with us in every battle. Yet we cannot allow fear to dictate who we are and how we act. That is another essential element of honor."

"If I don't go in, they'll have won. How many times have we heard that American soldiers rely on firepower and technology because they lack courage? How many times has our enemy said that man-for-man, they can beat us? That's nothing new. The Germans and Japanese said the same thing in World War II. Inside that house, I surrendered my honor and mny manhood. Now I have to take both back, or live with the fact that they are right about me. That is unacceptable. I rant and swear with abandon. Down the street, I see Sergeant Knapp taking care of my men like they are his little brothers. I want to cry I am so proud. I love these kids in a way I will never be able to express. I see their faces. One by one. John Ruiz, Lucas Abernathy, Piotr Sucholas, Alex Stuckert, Victor Santos, Brett Pulley, Tristan Maxfield- they deserve more from me. I stop pacing and let out a deep, rattling sigh. Only Ware remains near me on the street. Everyone else has moved away. Perhaps my display has convinced them I've gone mad. But Ware is still here. The journalist. Our platoon's unofficial intel officer. We stare intently at each other. "Fuck it," I say. "Fuck it," agrees Ware. That settles it. I'm going back in."

"You know things are not right with the world when you share a spiritual moment with a damn journalist. But there it is. Mick Ware and I are standing on the street, digesting the finality of the option we've just chosen. His job is to write the story, not become the story. But he's done just tlhat. He's committed, just as I'm committed. I can see it in his eyes. It is time to do this thing. I half turn and roar, "Alpha Team, on me!""

"We're fine operating in the dark; we all have night-vision goggles. But the Marines issue them only to their leadership. We own the night; the Marines rent it. We move to another house and prepare to clear it. A star shell bursts overhead, leaving us perfectly backlit for the enemy. The sudden bloom of light washes out our night vision. For a critical moment, we're exposed and blind. And then they send us scrambling as they commence shooting at our movement underneath their flares. Fucking Marines. As much as I love to point out their Semper-Fi-diocy, I am awed by their cohesive fire. When one Marine fires, so does his entire platoon. Their fire superiority is humbling, as I grab earth to avoid its death. Roll-playing for even two minutes as an insurgent is too long against a platoon or company of Marines. No matter what, you gotta respect that."

"I move along the roof to look over toward the northwest. A solitary figure stands in the street. He's cloaked in shadows, but I can see his outline, rigid and tall. He begins to chant. A surge of terror streaks up my spine. His voice is determined and full of passion. This one's a believer. I wonder if you're ready to die. He steps out of the shadows and into the orange dawn's light. His stride is measured and proud. He repeats his chant. His right arm holds a belt-fed machine gun. The ammunition is wound around his left arm, Rambo-style. He curls his fingers and beckons us to bring it on. We stare at him, stunned. He takes no cover. He seeks no protection. He strides through the middle of the street, his machine gun ready. He acts as if it weighs nothing. What is this man doing? He is begging to be shot. What sort of man throws his life away ike this? Up until now, I've had little but contempt for our enemy. Now as I watch this man, I have to respect him. He is a warrior, a man who believes that his cause has value and is worth his life. We have that much in common. But still he must die."

"Close behind Cantrell comes Staff Sergeant Jim, driving that glorious Abrams. First Platoon has no doubt benefited from their service. That battle's under control. Now they've come to bail us out."

"The area around us suddenly erupts with grenades and machine-gun fire. Those shells landed near some Marines, who have finally reached our area. It is about time they get on-line with us. Then again, it is a mixed blessing to have them around. They don't take kindly to the 25mm incoming. Their response sends us diving for cover behind our tracks as .50-caliber machine-gun fire stitches across our street. Rodriguez gets on the radio. The Marines are not apologetic. We are told that they will return any and all incoming fire, friendly or otherwise."

""Fuck the photos! Fuck shaving!" I hear First Sergeant Smith scream to Captain Walter. Sergeant Major Bohn is with them now. He nods his head. Smith is still livid, "All they want is fucking food, sir. Enough of the bullshit. They don't know what these kids have been through." Before Doug Walter arrived to lead A Company, First Sergeant Peter Smith became the acting commander. During a time of great stress, with his company reeling from all the tragic losses, Smith became a steady presence and brought his company to fight only fifteen minutes after losing Sean Sims. General Batiste is not far away, talking with another engineer. Unless he's as deaf as we are, he can't possibly miss what's going on. He ignores it. Wow. This is awesome. First Sergeant Smith is about to snap. Our leadership is fighting for us. But they lose. We are ordered to shave and try to clean up as best we can."

"The gunman on the roof was a teenaged boy, maybe sixteen years old. I could see him scanning for targets, his back to me. He held an AK-47 without a stock. Was he just a stupid kid trying to protect his family? Was he one of Muqtada al-Sadr's Shiite fanatics? I kept my eyes on him and prayed he'd put the AK down and just get back inside his own house. I didn't want to shoot him. He turned and saw me, and I could see the terror on his sweat-streaked face. I put him in my sights just as he adjusted the AK against his shoulder. I had beaten him on the draw. My own rifle was snug on my shoulder, the sight resting on him. The kid stood no chance. My weapon just needed a flick of the safety and a butterfly's kiss of pressure on the trigger. Please don't do this. You don't need to die. The AK went to full ready-up. Was he aiming at me? I couldn't be sure, but the barrel was trained at my level. Do I shoot? Do I risk not shooting? Was he silently trying to save me from some unseen threat? I didn't know. I had to make a decision. Please forgive me for this. I pulled my trigger. The kid's chin fell to his chest, and a guttural moan escaped his lips. I fired again, missed, then pulled the trigger one more time. The bullet tore his jaw and ear off. Sergeant Hall came up alongside me, saw the AK and the boy, and finished him with four shots to his chest. He slumped against the low rooftop wall. "Thanks, dude. I lost my zero," I said to Hall, explaining that my rifle sights were off-line, though that was the last thing going through my mind."

"I remember working with the sergeant major that day. I had an M4 with all sorts of high-tech shit hanging off its rails. A hundred and fifty meters ahead of us, something piqued the sergeant major's interest. Faulkenberg took off and hobbled a ways, stopped, and fired a single shot. I was so intimidated by him, I didn't dare ask if he hit anything. He looked at me and scrunched his lips up in a pseudo-smile. "Another day in paradise, son." After that fight, Sergeant Major Faulkenberg gave me the same look he gives me now. I had stood with him as the bullets smacked around us, and he respected that. Now, twenty minutes before we roll into the fight of our lives, I can see he trusts me with his soldiers. No words are said. I'd do anything for this man, and he knows it. I'd kill for him, and he knows that, too. I'd follow him anywhere because I trust him to always do the right thing. Few men are leaders. Even fewer are role models. Faulkenberg is both. We will fight like demons for him today."

"Since leaving the military, he has enjoyed a career as an author of two highly regarded memoirs and a series of military action novels, as a television personality, and as an instructor at HardShoot. The last one is at a precision shooting company where he instructs individuals, including Olympic marksmen, in the fine art and hard science of shooting. Along with his wife, Jessica, and his son, Kaden, he resides in Texas."

"The details vary from war to war, but no matter the epoch, the camaraderie remains. It's a closeness no civilian will ever really understand."

"A block away, machine guns echo through the night. AK-47s bark. M4s beat a response. The firefight grows."

"In the summer of 2005, I left the Army and returned to civilian life. It was the toughest decision I ever had to make. I loved being an NCO, and I missed it every day. After I returned home, I witnessed another battle raging on the television over Iraq. As other veterans of the Global War on Terror started to trickle home, we shared the feelings of the disenfranchised. We who sacrificed were being ignored by the World War II and Vietnam generations now holding seats of power in our government. I joined Wade Zirkle in forming Vets for Freedom, a nonpartisan political action committee dedicated to supporting our troops in both Iraq and Afghanistan. I want to believe the war is a noble effort, but I fear it may end ignobly."

"Today is my birthday. I'm twenty-nine. It's November 10, 2004. I'm a staff sergeant with 2nd Battalion, 2nd Infantry Regiment, stationed in Fallujah, Iraq. I'm near the end of a thirty-six-month "all others" tour away from my family, currently deployed to Iraq in support of Operation Iraqi Freedom. Fallujah had been abandoned for six months when we arrived in the late fall of 2004. During that time, four thousand to six thousand enemy insurgents have entrenched, preparing their defenses for our arrival. Bodies are all over the street, festering bacteria. Within a matter of days of our arrival, we've all suffered strep throat, fevers, and diarrhea. It's horrible. We engage in close-quarters combat, within a deadly two-foot radius. The enemy is a mix of highly skilled professionals and amateurs who fight with passion. We never know what we're going to encounter. I'm not bothered by fear. I'm fueled by it."

"Truth is, I did know how it was. Truth is, in the military, I was treated better as an adult than I am as a civilian. I didn't really experience much racism as a kid. I realize now, that I was pretty naïve.I remember my dad having "the talk" with me. Not the one about the birds and the bees, but the one about how I should conduct myself when I am forced to have an encounter with a law enforcement officer. I thought everybody got that talk from their fathers. I now realize they don't, just minority parents talking to minority kids about what o do so they don't end up arrested, roughed up, or dead. When I told Jess that down the line I was going to have to have that talk with my son, she was totally confused. What? Why? You mean..."

"I've been pulled over multiple times for the same taillight that is not burned out. I've been paid one-third less for television appearances and other work in that industry than my white counterparts with less experience. I've been told by TV people that when I had dreadlocks, I should cut them out because my appearance was sending a negative message. Some of this stuff happened as recently as two weeks ago. So it happens. And as a black man, you take it. Not all the time, but most of the time because you grow up aware of the consequences of not taking it. And recently, as a veteran, I've watched and listened as there's been talk of having our active duty military people being called in to help quiet unrest and arrest lawbreakers. I couldn't imagine doing that. Not to black people. Not to white people."

"I've never really talked about this openly. I was too scared and too uncomfortable. Given what's happened recently with the death of George Floyd and the response to that, I've been asked about these issues more. The simple answer is that yes, in the military, I was discriminated against. It wasn't always open, so it was often subtle, but I felt it was there. Some people made assumptions about me just because of the color of my skin."

"I enlisted to fight against foreign and domestic enemies. The average protestor on the streets is not an enemy, not a terrorist. That's not the job of the 101st Airborne or the Green Berets or other military units. As a civilian, seeing that being considered or threatened is scary. I think about some of the tactics we used overseas, and I can't understand how anyone would consider using them here in this country."

"I look back now, and I'm completely amazed at a lot of things we all did. I was scared every time we went outside the gate. Every single time. Every single firefight. That last deployment in Helmand Province I was convinced I was going to die. Maybe it was superstition, but on your last deployment after you'd made the decision to leave the military, you know that you were either going to get shot or killed. We were experiencing way too much contact with the enemy, way too many ambushes, way too many close calls. At that point, Marjah was the Wild West. The only thing that kept me going was the guys to my left and to my right."

"I think that a lot of people have this misconception about what it means to be a sniper. A lot of people are fascinated with the long-distance kill. That's kind of the romanticized version of the lone gunman out there stalking his prey. Guys do that, and that's important, but that's not the only kind of sniping that gets done. Direct-action sniping is different. You're in a firefight. Chaos is going on all around you. I saw a mix of both kinds and they required a different skill set- not entirely, but to a degree- and a different mindset. But a lot of people don't understand that as a sniper, 90 percent of your job is relaying information back to the other guys and teams and command personnel behind you. You're out in front and can see things they can't but need to. The way I looked at it, that first 90 percent was about helping save lives. The same with the 10 percent."

"I'm sad about the state of this nation right now. I really am. I remember how people rallied around the flag after 9/11. We were all on the same page. We felt unified for a while. I am proud of what I did in fighting the Global War on Terror. I'm glad I served, but in a way, with what's going on now in this country and how divided we are, it's almost like what our Vietnam veterans faced in coming home. We aren't physically being spit on and degraded, but it is an enormous sign of disrespect for our efforts to come back home from war to have another one going on here. Especially since we can fix this."

"The truth is, when I left the military, and even at times when I was home from deployment, that badass mentality was too much for me to deal with. I felt like I had to live up to being a badass and I was scared to death that I really wasn't that way. It's hard enough living one life, but when you're living two or being two different people, things get complicated. So, I just tried to continue being that badass, and drinking a lot helped to do that and to forget the fear of not being a badass. That's a lose-lose proposition I can see now. Plus, the Reaper was my identity. I'd served six deployments overall. My whole identity to that point was wanting to be a soldier, a sniper, and then being those two things. And I was good at it, too. I was known for being good at it. Being that guy, that badass, that Reaper was how I was able to survive and how I was able to function in this world. I was molded by having such life-changing experiences as being in combat and serving as a sniper. And coming back home after having been all that and figuring out a way to still be all that while in the civilian arena was hard."

"As a sniper, you have the power to end the most precious thing on the planet without that person even being aware of your existence. It takes a certain type of individual to deal with having that kind of power."

"I always told my guys that they should call me "Irv." I never wanted them to call me "Sergeant." Even though I'd earned the nickname and the reputation as the Reaper, I wanted everyone to operate on the same level playing field. I wasn't any better than anyone. That didn't mean that I didn't carry myself with confidence, but I remained humble. One thing is for sure, if you ever say anything in the battalion that sounds like a brag, you'll never hear the end of it. Also, that was just how I was raised. Lead by example. Don't ever be your own cheerleader."

"If I could tell everyone in this country one thing that I learned it would be this: We need to have an open ear and an open mind. We need to have leaders that are willing to listen, to accept feedback, and adjust. We also need to remember that we still have men and women overseas who are fighting and dying to preserve and protect the principles that we're all supposed to have bought into as Americans. And remember that if you do have respect for a veteran, and the vast majority of people do, that means that you should have respect for yourself and for other Americans. We are all there fighting, black guys, white guys, Hispanic guys. So, if you want to say thank you for your service, then stop the fighting here, stop the discrimination among races and classes. That can start with being an open ear. Listen. As a leader, it isn't about issuing commands. You have to listen, accept feedback, and make changes."

"Sergeant Nick "the Reaper" Irving earned his reputation and nickname on a remarkable tour of duty in 2009 while serving primarily as a direct action sniper in Helmand Province. While serving with the 3rd Ranger Battalion, in a period of three months he established a record by accounting for the confirmed deaths of thirty-three enemy combatants. He was the first African American sniper to serve in his battalion, and proudly followed in the footsteps of his parents, both of whom were in the Army. Nick admits to having a bad case of "SEAL-itis" as a kid, as a result of his exposure to the Charlie Sheen film Navy Seals. He went so far as to attend, and pass, the Navy Sea Cadet SEAL camp in Florida following his senior year in high school. It was only because a pre-induction physical revealed his color-blindness that he was forced to give up his long-held dream. Post 9/11, the military was in need of qualified candidates, and an army recruiter sought him out after a nurse cheated for him on the color vision test, convincing him that the Army's elite Ranger Regiment was essentially, as he put it, SEALs without the water."

"Nick was already a well-practiced and highly-skilled marksman before entering the military, but he had to overcome a serious obstacle before he could join the Ranger Battalion- his fear of heights. Completing airborne training was a major challenge, and to this day, Nick marvels at the fact that some people leap out of airplanes for enjoyment. Despite that fear, he was able to join the Rangers, and he credits his father and father's military training for straightening him out. He admits to being an angry and sometimes wayward young man who often lacked discipline and focus, except when it came to precision marksmanship and working toward his early goal of becoming a SEAL. Early on, he discovered John Plaster's influential book, The Ultimate Sniper. Though a few birds and a neighbor's window paid the price of his early interest in weaponry, he refined his skills and came to liken sniping to chess, with its emphasis on anticipation, prediction, and analysis. He used those high-level critical thinking skills in serving with great distinction for six years."

"Believe me, I know the sacrifices made by those who fought and lived, and the complete sacrifice made by the kids who never came home. But I saw the faces of the people we set free from their occupiers- from France to Holland to Belgium, and I saw the people in the concentration camp- and I saw the life, even joy, return to people who'd been starved and beaten close to death, who'd seen their family members die horrible deaths. Even they could find joy again once they were free. At least they had the choice. Even if the people visiting Liberty Bell don't understand what it symbolizes, it doesn't change what we accomplished. I put my hand on Bill's shoulder and told him, yeah, the sacrifice was worth it. He said, "Yeah, I think so, too.""

"Bill and Babe came to visit while we were filming, and the excitement on set that day was palpable- Babe and Bill were coming! By the time I arrived there was a huge semicircle of people listening to them chat with Tom Hanks. I introduced myself to Babe and he did likewise before looking me up and down. Then he asked how I was getting on with the accent. "Fine," I replied. "Let me hear it," he said, and so I took a deep breath and did my best Philly accent. "No, your Philly accent," Babe said. He must have seen the disappointment on my face because he didn't let it hang in the air too long before breaking into a laugh and giving me a slap on the back. "I'm only messing wicha, you did fine." That moment has to rank among the proudest in my life."