Sileo Tom - 8 Seconds of Courage: a Soldier?s Story from Immigrant to the Medal of Honor

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ALSO BY TOM SILEO

Fire in My Eyes:

An American Warriors Journey from Being Blinded on the Battlefield to Gold Medal Victory (with Brad Snyder)

Brothers Forever:

The Enduring Bond Between a Marine and a Navy SEAL That Transcended Their Ultimate Sacrifice (with Tom Manion)

A SOLDIERS STORY

FROM IMMIGRANT

TO THE

MEDAL OF HONOR

Simon & Schuster

1230 Avenue of the Americas

New York, NY 10020

www.SimonandSchuster.com

Copyright 2017 by Florent Groberg and Tom Sileo

Certain names and identifying characteristics have been changed.

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Simon & Schuster Subsidiary Rights Department, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020.

First Simon & Schuster hardcover edition November 2017

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Interior design by Lewelin Polanco

Jacket design by David Litman

Jacket photograph by Jonathan Daniel/Getty Images Sport Collection

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.

ISBN 978-1-5011-6588-7

ISBN 978-1-5011-6589-4 (ebook)

To US Army Command Sergeant Major Kevin Griffin, US Army Major Tom Kennedy, US Air Force Major David Gray, USAID Foreign Service Officer Ragaei Abdelfattah, and your families. I will never forget you, nor will the grateful nation for which you made the ultimate sacrifice.

FLO GROBERG

To my grandparents, Canio and Hedy Sileo and Clarence and Betty Luther. Your sacrifices during World War II helped pave the way for future generations of American heroes.

TOM SILEO

I had never thought about quitting anything until the United States Army Ranger Schools Mountain Phase in the rugged hills of Dahlonega, Georgia. By the fortieth day of Ranger School in October 2009, my lifelong dislike of hiking had turned into pure hatred.

I had to get through only twenty-one more days to earn the Armys coveted Ranger tab, but after six weeks of constant fatigue, I was just about finished. Like most of my fellow soldiers, I had lost around twenty pounds due to strictly imposed food limits, and hadnt slept more than four hours a night since Ranger School began. For me, those challenges were nothing compared to hiking up and down Ranger Camp Frank D. Merrills ruthless cliffs. The mountains of North Georgia were my kryptonite.

On the fortieth night, my thirteen-man squad and I were on what we called a death march, which started in the dead of night and wouldnt end until we reached a mock objective at 0500. Thankfully it was neither too hot nor cold in early October, but an unrelenting rainstorm made my wet, muddy boots feel as if they were filled with concrete. Even with my night optical devices (NODs), I could barely see the tree branches that were constantly snapping into my face. Bugs were all over my body and inside my dry, thirsty mouth.

I knew that these hardships were designed to prepare us for many months of combat in the mountains of Afghanistan, where I would likely deploy after Ranger School. But I was physically and mentally drained, with a stomach buckling in on itself. All I could think about was how much this sucked. My deteriorating legs and body language made it even more obvious that I was struggling.

Whats wrong? another Ranger candidate, Staff Sergeant Erick Gallardo, said.

Hell, I said while gasping for air. I cant take this shit anymore.

What do you mean? he said. Are you falling asleep?

Guys passing out during simulated missions, even while standing up or marching, was commonplace. For me, though, it was about more than sleep deprivation. I felt like forty straight days of Ranger Schools nonstop chaos had finally broken me.

Im smoked, man, I told Gallardo. I think Im done.

After a pause, Gallardo, who had narrowly survived a bullet striking his helmet in eastern Afghanistans infamous Korengal Valley, made me an offer.

If you quit right now, Ill quit with you, he said.

Gallardo had received a Silver Star for his heroic actions as the leader of a 173rd Airborne Brigade Combat Team squad that included Army Staff Sergeant Salvatore Giunta (who would later receive the Medal of Honor). Gallardo had been through a lot worse than the mountains of North Georgia. Even though he had nearly been killed in Afghanistan, Gallardo wanted to return to the battlefield as a platoon sergeant, which required earning the Ranger tab.

If I quit, it wouldnt just be a huge setback to my military career; it would mess up Gallardos future, too.

Get through this damn patrol and sleep on it, he continued. If you feel the same way in the morning, well quit tomorrow.

Gallardo gave me the second wind I needed, and out of habit my mind snapped back to a concept that had been drilled into my head since the beginning of Ranger School: leave no man behind. After getting through nearly six hellish weeks, why should I give up and take another soldier down with me? Quitting was contrary to everything I stood for.

The next day, the sun came out for the first time in a long while.

Are we quitting today? Gallardo inquired as we wolfed down our MREs (Meals, Ready to Eat).

Negative, I said.

But the next night, I reached a second breaking point during another eleven-hour death march. That made our total time awake twenty-three hours. With one hour to go, I was frantically searching for a piece of lost gear, and soon realized I was hallucinating from exhaustion.

My Ranger buddy had hurt his ankle a few meters earlier, which prompted me to grab his tripod and add it to the pile of gear that was already on my back. I was carrying over one hundred pounds, in addition to my M240 machine gun. The enormous weight, combined with the pitch-black darkness and brutal terrain, caused me to trip and fall into the mudfifteen separate times.