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“Affirmative, sir.”
Because I came through it, and I have my memories, and I wouldn’t have
traded any of it, not for the whole world. I’m a United States Navy SEAL.
Epilogue: Lone Star
On September 13, 2005, Danny Dietz and Matthew Axelson were awarded the highest honor
which either the United States Navy or the Marine Corps can bestow on anyone — the Navy
Cross for combat heroism. I was summoned to the White House to receive mine on July 18 the
following year.
I was accompanied by my brothers, Morgan and Scottie, my mom and dad, and my close friend
Abbie. SEAL Team 5’s Commander Lenway and Master Chief Pete Naschek were also there,
with Lieutenant Drexler, Admiral Maguire’s aide.
Attired in full dress blues, my new Purple Heart pinned on my chest, close to my Trident, I
walked into the Oval Office. The president of the United States, George W. Bush, stood up to
greet me.
“It’s an honor to meet you, sir,” I said.
And the president gave me that little smile of his, which I took to mean, We’re both Texans,
right? And he said, a little bit knowingly, “It’s my pleasure to meet you, son.”
He looked at the cast on my left wrist, and I told him, “I’m just trying to get back into the fight,
sir.”
I shook his hand, and he had a powerful handshake. And he looked me right in the eye with a
hard, steady gaze. Last time anyone looked at me like that was Ben Sharmak in Afghanistan. But
that was born of hatred. This was a look between comrades.
Our handshake was prolonged and, for me, profound. This was my commander in chief, and
right now I had his total attention, as I would have every time he spoke to me. President Bush
does that naturally, speaking as if there is no one else in the room for him. This was one
powerful man.
I remember I wanted to tell him how all my buddies love him, believe in him, and that we’re out
there ready to bust our asses for him anytime he needs us. But he knows that. He’s our guy. Even
Shane in his leopard-skin coat recognized our C in C as “a real dude.”
President Bush seemed to know what I was thinking. And he slapped me on the shoulder and
said, “Thank you, Marcus. I’m proud of you, son.”
I have no words to describe what that meant to me, how much it all mattered. I came to attention,
and Lieutenant Drexler read out my citation. And the president once more came toward me. In
his hand he carried the fabled Navy Cross, with its dark blue ribbon that’s slashed down the
center by a white stripe, signifying selflessness.
The cross itself features a navy ship surrounded by a wreath. The president pinned it directly
below my Trident. And he said again, “Marcus, I’m very proud of you. And I really like the
SEALs.”
Again I thanked him. And then he saw me glance at his desk, and on it was the battle patch I’d
asked Admiral Mullin to present to him. The president grinned and said, “Remember this?”
“Yessir.” Did I ever remember it. I’d hidden that baby in my Afghan trousers, just to make sure
those Taliban bastards didn’t get it. And now here it was again, right on the desk of the president
of the United States, the Lone Star of Texas, battle worn but still there.
We talked privately for a few minutes, and it was clear to me, President Bush knew all about the
firefight on Murphy’s Ridge. And indeed how I had managed to get out of there.
At the end of our chat, I reached over and picked up the patch, just for old times’ sake. And the
president suddenly said, in that rich Texan accent, “Now you put that down, boy! That doesn’t
belong to you anymore.”
We both laughed, and he told me my former battle patch was going to his future museum. As I
left the Oval Office he told me, “Anything you need, Marcus. That’s
anything.
You call me right
here, on that phone, understand?”
“Yessir.” And it still felt to me like two Texans meeting for the first time. One of ’em kinda
paternal, understanding. The other absolutely awestruck in the presence of a very great United
States president, and my commander in chief.
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