An hour after the convoy left, the first chilling call came through the radio. We’d been tuned into the channels communicating with each vehicle on the convoy. SEALs were considered elite and didn’t do these types of convoys. Instead, we were on the QRF; quick response force.

I lowered the weapon I was cleaning in my compound and listened as a soldier shouted that they were under attack. The hairs on the back of my neck immediately stood on end. I didn’t want to be right. My gut had tried to warn me, and I had ignored it. God damn it.

The radio grew quiet. Shit. That was a bad sign. When a convoy was attacked, whenever possible soldiers were trained to stop the convoy and move the vehicles out to the sides to remove themselves from the danger zone. Soldiers that weren’t hit were to get out of the vehicles and assume defense fighting positions. It was their way of surrounding the convoy, forming a barrier of people with weapons. Each vehicle had a radio running on the same frequency communicating with the base. The fact that we’d only received one call and it had been dropped told me those soldiers had to vacate the vehicles to eradicate the attackers. Fuck.

I tightened my loud bearing vest and looked over to Pat, Vic, and the rest of my fire Team. “Load ‘em up.” No other words were exchanged, it wasn’t needed. We were expected to be quick-witted, trained to move at a moment’s notice, and that’s what we did just then. We began to collect our weapons when the second call came in.

“The USO convoy was ambushed. A roadside bomb has disabled two vehicles. The medics still on board will assess the damage and provide immediate medical attention to as many as possible. We were under heavy enemy fire. There are casualties. We also have a hostage situation. The first troop carrier containing the USO guests was taken. The driver and officer on board were killed. We need immediate backup.” That was the vehicle Sara was in. The look on my face clued the guys in to my thoughts.

“You don’t know what happened, man,” Pat stated sympathetically. He knew I was thinking about Sara. I nodded, removing the fucked-up thought from my head. My thought process was warped with anguish and I had to be positive. With the help of my Team, we loaded our weapons and sprinted back to our command. A quick briefing was conducted before our forty-man Team took off. My eight-man fire squad, which consisted of myself, Vic, Pat, Grant, Mitch, Shane, Erik, and Joaquín, led the convoy.

As swiftly as we could, we climbed into the first available Humvee, the up-armored metal camouflaging our surroundings. Luckily the vehicles were checked daily so finding ready-to-go Humvees was never a problem. Each vehicle contained four SEALs. I sat in the front passenger seat in the foremost vehicle, wanting the first opportunity at destroying our enemy. The vehicles couldn’t have moved any faster—we shot out of the base like bats out of hell, gunning it down the road. Our vehicles sped through the desert on the path the convoy had taken. Roadside bomb, my ass. Sure we had them all the time, but my gut told me this was no random attack. These Americans had been taken for a reason, to be made examples of. Soon enough we’d find out what we were dealing with.

Pat saw it first. “Fuck, man.”

Passing another mountainside hill, we approached the convoy, and a few soldiers waved at our incoming vehicles. Strewn on the side of the road, in the midst of a sand storm, were over a dozen bodies. The damage inflicted was ghastly. Soldiers, American men. All brutally shot, each one missing their weapons. No matter how many times we’d gone through this, it never got easier.

Joaquín, our driver, stopped the Humvee. At the drop of a hat, Vic, Grant, and Shane jumped out first—they were Corpsmen and the best equipped to handle the situation. If there was any chance they could save one soldier, then their assistance would be worth it.

I turned and gave the surrounding area a once-over, assessing my perimeters. Staring up at the steep mountains, I immediately recognized the path the assailants had used to attack. These bastards had executed their plan to perfection, outnumbering the soldiers. By blowing up the first two vehicles, the fire power raining down from the mountains had taken the rest of the men off guard. It must have taken seconds. And within minutes, they’d driven off with an entire cheerleading squad and one of our fucking vehicles.

I exited the Humvee. Pat, Mitch, Joaquín, Erik, and I followed shortly behind the Corpsmen, our guns scanning the landscape, looking for targets. Following the briefing instructions we’d had back at the base, each man got to work. Some checked the area and others spoke to the surviving soldiers, getting any intel that would be helpful. The medics provided medical attention and assisted the horrified athletes and their coach.

Shane stood to my side and checked one of the soldiers’ pulse as Vic and Grant tended to the other nearby men.

“Dead.” My heart ached.

“Same here,” Vic announced.

“Fuck.” I knelt beside one of the men, closed his eyes, and prayed over his body. I wasn’t a chaplain, but being a reverend’s son compelled me to pray for his salvation, despite my faith being constantly tested at war.

A SEAL pointed to the same tire tracks I’d seen. “The vehicles were definitely ambushed. The perpetrators came down that side of the mountain.” He pivoted, signaling down the road. “And followed that path. There must be a village close by.”

“For sure this was a targeted attack,” Vic added. “The girls could be anywhere. One hundred bucks says the troop carrier was abandoned somewhere up the road. It’s too risky for them to be seen in it. And if you check the top of those mountains, you’ll see tire tracks going whichever which way. The rest of those motherfuckers hightailed it back into one of the villages or hidden caves.”

I simply nodded. I didn’t need to speak. He was right. We’d done this enough not to know what happened. I needed to gather my thoughts, and as the squad leader plan of action with my men.

I glanced around at my squad, every part of me filling with pride. I was in charge of the best SEALs. We respected and believed in each other. If anyone could save these women, we could. And we would.

I started walking in the direction of the remaining troop carrier, praying along the way. I knew how frightened the girls must’ve been. I prayed to be guided to them, to Sara. And let me honor my word of keeping her safe.

I approached the troop carrier and first spoke to the coach. The elderly man wore a somber expression. The many creases surrounding his sunken eyes and flat-lined, quivering lips seemed to deepen by the second. He reminded me of my Pops. Though I’d never seen my Pops this scared. Most of the players wore the same expression. As big as they were, understandably, the players were overwhelmed and had plenty of questions. I assured them all their questions would be answered when they were safely back on base. After directing a good portion of the Team to finish attending to the players and provide medical attention to whomever necessary, my men loaded the fallen soldiers. This was one of the hardest parts of the job. The body count was more than we anticipated, and it hurt like hell each time we loaded another fallen soldier.

Once everyone was loaded and secured, the convoy took off back to the base. We rode in silence. Out of respect for the lives lost, and out of hope that we’d be able to save the other innocent Americans who had been taken by terrorists when their desire had been simply to entertain us.

I often felt that the public saw us SEALs as killers, as sadistic psychos who enjoyed killing. But seeing war, seeing innocent lives taken filled me with rage. Fuck yeah, I wanted to kill. I wanted to kill the motherfuckers who’d murdered in cold blood these innocent men. The purposely ruthless and unfeeling manner in which their lives had ended was hard to swallow. These were sons, fathers, and husbands who would never come home to their families. The same motherfuckers who took great joy in taking innocent women would pay. Make no mistake, I wanted their blood on my hands.

I’d promised Sara I would keep her safe. And I intended to keep that promise. Whoever took her took the wrong girl. Because I would tear this country apart to find her.

This was exactly why I’d left football.

I’d never win MVP, never win a championship ring, but some heroes don’t play games.