Tom Clancy's Act of Valor by Dick Couch, George Galdorisi Page B
Authors: Dick Couch, George Galdorisi
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learn more about the squad’s detached duty. He was also anxious to get back to his wife and infant son.
Ramon Diamond was the one SEAL they selected because he was the best. He was the most experienced of the two platoon radio operators, and since they would not have the support of the task unit’s communications team to draw on, they drafted him for the squad. Ray was an electronics geek first and a SEAL second. Everyone came to Ray—with a new cell phone that they needed to learn how to operate or with a laptop that had fallen prey to a particularly nasty virus. Engel suspected that Ray quietly hacked into national-security databases for satellite imagery. On their last deployment to Afghanistan, he always seemed to come up with great aerial imagery of their targets. When Engel had asked where he got them, Ray had been evasive, saying that you just had to know where to look. They had worked well together on that last deployment. Ray normally stayed close to Engel, as communications were critical in the modern fight—comms with the engaged SEAL fire teams as well as comms with the support elements and higher headqu Chig inarters. During one particularly vicious firefight, Engel had looked around and couldn’t find Ray. A teammate had gone down, and Ray had raced through a hail of fire to drag the injured man to safety. That action led to Ray’s second Silver Star. One of the big dichotomies with their platoon geek was that his arms were covered with gang tats, which he refused to discuss. “Some guys are reborn in Christ,” Ray would say when asked. “I was reborn in the Navy. That’s all you need to know.” In addition to his IT skills, he had a dry sense of humor and a knack for pushing other people’s buttons.
Sonny Guibert was perhaps the only one of the group who looked like a SEAL, or what those outside this tight-knit community thought a SEAL should look like. In a word, he was a wall. At six feet two and 225 pounds, he was the largest SEAL in the squad or the platoon, and movie-star handsome. He had thick blond hair and perfect teeth. When the Bandito SEALs parachuted without equipment, they often said they were jumping Guibert rather than jumping Hollywood. He towered over SEALs like Weimy and Ray, who were under six feet and fifty-plus pounds lighter. Dave Nolan accused him of having weight-lifter genes, as he was naturally cut and buffed. For that reason, he did only nominal upper-body work, but he was a highly competitive triathlete. He was the squad’s automatic-weapons man, which meant he carried the M48 machine gun—a compact SEAL weapon that digested the heavy 7.62 NATO rounds—and in a squad action, his weapon was the biggest dog in the fight. He also served as the squad’s armorer, which meant he had sub-custody of all the squad weapons and night-vision equipment. He made sure the detached squad had extra weapons and spare parts, so they could operate independently from the task unit. In one word, Sonny was reliable. It was Chief Nolan’s job to check all those with platoon and squad responsibilities, but he did so very carefully with the big SEAL. Sonny took an immense amount of pride in knowing that he kept the squad’s weapons package up to standards and that everyone’s work gun was up and running. Sonny’s personal responsibilities also extended to a wife who could pass for Miss California and two blond, towheaded daughters. The family was Hallmark material.
Alfonso Joseph Markum had joined the Navy in his late twenties and needed a special waiver to enter basic SEAL training at twenty-nine. A.J. was born in Trinidad and came to Miami with his mother when he was six. She married a Cuban exile and they all settled in little Havana. Neither spoke English; they were poor but proud. A.J.’s stepfather worked as a security guard and his mother cleaned homes. A.J. was left alone after school and had flirted with gangs, black and Cuban, but two things kept him from serious trouble:
Ramon Diamond was the one SEAL they selected because he was the best. He was the most experienced of the two platoon radio operators, and since they would not have the support of the task unit’s communications team to draw on, they drafted him for the squad. Ray was an electronics geek first and a SEAL second. Everyone came to Ray—with a new cell phone that they needed to learn how to operate or with a laptop that had fallen prey to a particularly nasty virus. Engel suspected that Ray quietly hacked into national-security databases for satellite imagery. On their last deployment to Afghanistan, he always seemed to come up with great aerial imagery of their targets. When Engel had asked where he got them, Ray had been evasive, saying that you just had to know where to look. They had worked well together on that last deployment. Ray normally stayed close to Engel, as communications were critical in the modern fight—comms with the engaged SEAL fire teams as well as comms with the support elements and higher headqu Chig inarters. During one particularly vicious firefight, Engel had looked around and couldn’t find Ray. A teammate had gone down, and Ray had raced through a hail of fire to drag the injured man to safety. That action led to Ray’s second Silver Star. One of the big dichotomies with their platoon geek was that his arms were covered with gang tats, which he refused to discuss. “Some guys are reborn in Christ,” Ray would say when asked. “I was reborn in the Navy. That’s all you need to know.” In addition to his IT skills, he had a dry sense of humor and a knack for pushing other people’s buttons.
Sonny Guibert was perhaps the only one of the group who looked like a SEAL, or what those outside this tight-knit community thought a SEAL should look like. In a word, he was a wall. At six feet two and 225 pounds, he was the largest SEAL in the squad or the platoon, and movie-star handsome. He had thick blond hair and perfect teeth. When the Bandito SEALs parachuted without equipment, they often said they were jumping Guibert rather than jumping Hollywood. He towered over SEALs like Weimy and Ray, who were under six feet and fifty-plus pounds lighter. Dave Nolan accused him of having weight-lifter genes, as he was naturally cut and buffed. For that reason, he did only nominal upper-body work, but he was a highly competitive triathlete. He was the squad’s automatic-weapons man, which meant he carried the M48 machine gun—a compact SEAL weapon that digested the heavy 7.62 NATO rounds—and in a squad action, his weapon was the biggest dog in the fight. He also served as the squad’s armorer, which meant he had sub-custody of all the squad weapons and night-vision equipment. He made sure the detached squad had extra weapons and spare parts, so they could operate independently from the task unit. In one word, Sonny was reliable. It was Chief Nolan’s job to check all those with platoon and squad responsibilities, but he did so very carefully with the big SEAL. Sonny took an immense amount of pride in knowing that he kept the squad’s weapons package up to standards and that everyone’s work gun was up and running. Sonny’s personal responsibilities also extended to a wife who could pass for Miss California and two blond, towheaded daughters. The family was Hallmark material.
Alfonso Joseph Markum had joined the Navy in his late twenties and needed a special waiver to enter basic SEAL training at twenty-nine. A.J. was born in Trinidad and came to Miami with his mother when he was six. She married a Cuban exile and they all settled in little Havana. Neither spoke English; they were poor but proud. A.J.’s stepfather worked as a security guard and his mother cleaned homes. A.J. was left alone after school and had flirted with gangs, black and Cuban, but two things kept him from serious trouble:
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