Eddie Gallagher - The Man in the Arena: From Fighting ISIS to Fighting for My Freedom

Ballast Books, LLC

Washington, D.C.

www.ballastbooks.com

Copyright 2021 by Eddie and Andrea Gallagher with Andy Symonds

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any el ectronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by reviewers, who may quote brief passages in a review.

The views expressed in this publication are those of the authors and do not necessarily refl ect the offi cial policy or position of the Department of Defense or the U.S. government.

The public release clearance of this publication by the Department of Defense does not imply Department of Defense endorsement or factual accuracy of the material.

ISBN 978-1-955026-05-5

Library of Congress Control Number has been applied for

Printed in Canada

Published by Ballast Books

www.ballastbooks.com

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No shit, there I was...

CHIEF PETTY OFFICER (SEAL) EDWARD EDDIE GALLAGHER

September 11, 2018

Naval Consolidated Brig Miramar

San Diego, California

They had me fully shackled. Leg irons winding up to wrist cuffs, chains rattling as I shuffled through intake. The jumpsuit Id been supplied was three sizes too big and hung loosely over prison-issued tighty-whities.

I was led down a dingy hallway beneath dim fluorescent lights. Sloppy guards in a heightened state filed closely on either side. What are they afraid Ill do? Later, I learned that each time they moved me those first few days, the prison was put on lockdown. Afraid the crazed Navy SEAL accused of war crimes would jail break, I suppose.

Know why youre here?

I turned to the guard whod addressed me. A pudgy chief. He looked nervous, as if transporting Hannibal Lecter, while still displaying an aura of smugness. No, I thought. I dont. I have no idea why Im here. Did he expect me to answer? Was he going to tell me?

Killing ISIS? I threw out, unsure. Almost as a joke.

Yep, he nodded.

A buzz sounded, and a guard yanked open a cell door in the solitary confinement wing. He ushered me inside claustrophobic concrete walls.

On your knees, one of the other guards ordered. I did it. Lean against the bed. Face the wall. Again, I complied.

Cautiously, the guards approached from behind and removed my leg irons. A warning was issued to not move. They backed out through the doorway.

Walk to the door. Turn around. Each command echoed in the cramped, cinder block cell.

My handcuffs were taken off and I rubbed my wrists, more out of reflex than from pain. The heavy metal door slammed shut and the guards departed, leaving me alone with my shock and confusion.

I had no idea at the time I would remain in that prison for the next six and a half months, housed with child molesters and rapists, access to my family and friends, legal team, and medical care severely limited. Only after President Trump intervened would I be moved to less restrictive pretrial confinement so I could assist in my own defense against false charges of war crimescharges I was eventually found not guilty of, save one for taking a photograph with an enemy corpse.

Not that anyone seemed concerned with the truth. From the outset, each participant in this charade was driven by one of three motivations: protecting their career, advancing their career, or ruining mine.

But I didnt yet understand any of that. I was still trying to figure out what in the hell I was doing in prison.

ANDREA GALLAGHER

September 11, 2018

Florida Panhandle

I was upstairs, alone in the master bathroom, doing my makeup. From what I recall, thus far it had been a normal morning. Id dropped the kids off at school, then Eddie called from San Diego while walking to the traumatic brain injury clinic where he was receiving treatment for nearly twenty years of unreported combat injuries.

Though thousands of miles apart, we were used to the distance. This time though, the space felt closer. We now had a date when wed all be together again. For good. We discussed our plans for the day, and Eddie updated me on what hed been doing at the center.

It was standard operating procedure for someone with Eddies combat experience to get tests and evaluations before retiring. Hed volunteered for treatment at the National Intrepid Center of Excellence, or NICoE, a medical facility that used holistic treatments to help our countrys warfighters recover from careers often filled with traumatic brain injuries. We both wanted all his injuriesincluding brain injuriesto be documented by the VA for after he was out of the navy. There had been no time to address medical issues over the past two decades while entrenched in continuous training and deployment cycles. Now that he wasnt being run ragged either preparing for war or deploying to it, he was beginning the steps to heal body and mind.

It was encouraging to hear him say he felt as if he was getting something out of the program, whether it was yoga, acupuncture, or one-on-one counseling. I think he was surprised it was helping. While not the type to talk about his feelings or proactively seek treatment, to his credit Eddie was giving the program his all. After completion, hed officially be on his way to retirement and joining us in Florida, where the kids and I had moved a few months earlier. We were counting down the days.

For the first time since wed been married, I wouldnt have to share Eddie with the military. Hed be with his family, safe and in one piece. And while his body had been through the wringer in service to his countrynot that he would ever complain or even mention itwe were better off than so many of our friends. God had returned Eddie to us alive and relatively healthy; we knew too many in the SEAL community who couldnt say the same about their husbands, sons, and fathers.

So the whole family was in high spirits, optimistic about our future, and hopeful about what God had in store. I trusted in Him to guide us the rest of the way. So far I hadnt been disappointed.

Eddies reintegration into our family from his last deployment to Iraqour fifth deployment as a couplehad been the easiest wed ever experienced. My rule of thumb was that a six-month deployment needed six months for full reintegration. Hed already been back from the Mosul deployment for a year, and this time it had felt effortless.

I listened to a podcast while adding the final touches to my makeup routine. The podcast told the story of Joseph, whose brothers had betrayed him and sold him into slavery. While a slave, Joseph was falsely accused and thrown into prison, only to be eventually released by the pharaoh when he became aware of Josephs unique ability to interpret dreams. When Joseph was reunited with his brothers, they begged him for forgiveness and charity, which he readily offered. Joseph had no desire for retribution for the disloyalty, telling his brothers, You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives.

The story resonated with me. I felt something similar was happening to Eddie. Little did I know then how close the parallel ran. All wed heard at the time was that a few malcontents from Eddies previous platoon had been working overtime to fabricate stories about him, intent on maligning his otherwise-stellar reputation.