24 July 2005
Navy SEAL Shane Patton
24 July 2005 @ 00:01 hours
The Boulder City News (Nevada) printed my commentary on 28 July 2005:
I did not have the privilege of knowing Shane Patton. But I do know that his life and his actions are the embodiment of what makes America a great and free nation.
Like his father before him, Shane chose the path of greatest resistance in becoming a Navy SEAL and as such, became not just a warrior, but an elite warrior. Sailors must be in top athletic condition to attend the six-month highly specialized and physically demanding BUD/S (Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL) training. The training is tough (seven out of ten fail) but Shane, and young sailors like him, chose this direction at a young age. (Inter-service rivalries aside, in a candid moment of truth, members of the Army rangers and Special Forces, Marine Force Recon, and Air Force para-rescue commandos will all agree that the Navy’s SEAL training is the toughest).
Shane was in the company of heroes, aboard an Army Chinook helicopter with his SEAL buddies, when his young life ended. The Army pilots and door gunners were members of the 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment, the “Night Stalkers”, whose heroics are chronicled in the book and movie, Black Hawk Down. All of these brave warriors were coming to the aid of a SEAL team engaged in a fierce firefight with a numerically superior enemy in the mountains of Afghanistan.
For his gallantry in action, Shane Patton received the Bronze Star Medal with “V” device (for valor in combat), the Purple Heart, and the Combat Action Ribbon.
During visitation at the funeral home on the eve of Shane’s burial, I observed a steady stream of Americans, young and old, from all walks of life, paying their respects. Noteworthy was a young sailor, new to the service, her angelic face gracing a pristine uniform. Also, a biker wearing a leather jacket adorned with a Vietnam Service Medal and a 5th Infantry patch, both of which I immediately recognized. This bearded veteran of a distant war avoided eye contact with me, no doubt because I was wearing a police uniform. As I extended my hand to thank him for his service to our country during our youth, his hardened eyes softened up with tears as his tense body relaxed. Neither of us knew Shane Patton. However, as with everyone in attendance, we were completely aware of the sacrifices made by heroes such as Shane Patton.
The next morning, I had the honor of standing among a distinguished company of Navy SEALS, active and retired, who had come to bid farewell to their brother-in-arms. I was envious of the young faces with solid physiques wearing impeccable uniforms. The gold SEAL trident glistened atop their rows of ribbons, many signifying valor in combat.
As we waited patiently outside the chapel, I realized that this gathering was not a boisterous fraternity, but rather an unrivaled brotherhood of men who have been trained and tested to the limits of human endurance and steel-hardened by combat. Their inherent camaraderie was evident even in their revered silence.
I was moved by the scores of men and women in uniform, from every branch of the Armed Forces, as well as the number of police officers in attendance in the overflow gathering of mourners. Shane’s funeral procession had consisted of numerous police vehicles from many agencies. We were there to honor a local hero because every police officer knows what Shane and his buddies were fighting. They were battling the same type of evil-doers who killed 3,000 of our citizens in a cowardly attack during an on-going crusade to destroy America. We all remember 9-11 and the heroics of brave firefighters and police officers who, like Shane Patton, entered a cataclysmic firestorm to save others.
Whenever I drive my patrol car along Veterans Memorial Drive, be it at three in the morning or three in the afternoon, I read the names affixed to the street lights honoring our veterans. As I pass the Southern Nevada Veterans Memorial Cemetery, I say a short prayer giving thanks to the thousands of men and women who sacrificed their lives as Shane did.
To paraphrase John Stuart Mill, “for those who have fought for it, life has a special flavor the sheltered and protected will never know.” Shane and his shipmates courageously fought and died for our way of life. As long as we have extraordinary young people like Shane Patton, we will always have a free and strong America.
Daniel M. Jennings
Captain, U.S. Army (Retired)
The writer is a Boulder City police officer
I did not have the privilege of knowing Shane Patton. But I do know that his life and his actions are the embodiment of what makes America a great and free nation.
Like his father before him, Shane chose the path of greatest resistance in becoming a Navy SEAL and as such, became not just a warrior, but an elite warrior. Sailors must be in top athletic condition to attend the six-month highly specialized and physically demanding BUD/S (Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL) training. The training is tough (seven out of ten fail) but Shane, and young sailors like him, chose this direction at a young age. (Inter-service rivalries aside, in a candid moment of truth, members of the Army rangers and Special Forces, Marine Force Recon, and Air Force para-rescue commandos will all agree that the Navy’s SEAL training is the toughest).
Shane was in the company of heroes, aboard an Army Chinook helicopter with his SEAL buddies, when his young life ended. The Army pilots and door gunners were members of the 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment, the “Night Stalkers”, whose heroics are chronicled in the book and movie, Black Hawk Down. All of these brave warriors were coming to the aid of a SEAL team engaged in a fierce firefight with a numerically superior enemy in the mountains of Afghanistan.
For his gallantry in action, Shane Patton received the Bronze Star Medal with “V” device (for valor in combat), the Purple Heart, and the Combat Action Ribbon.
During visitation at the funeral home on the eve of Shane’s burial, I observed a steady stream of Americans, young and old, from all walks of life, paying their respects. Noteworthy was a young sailor, new to the service, her angelic face gracing a pristine uniform. Also, a biker wearing a leather jacket adorned with a Vietnam Service Medal and a 5th Infantry patch, both of which I immediately recognized. This bearded veteran of a distant war avoided eye contact with me, no doubt because I was wearing a police uniform. As I extended my hand to thank him for his service to our country during our youth, his hardened eyes softened up with tears as his tense body relaxed. Neither of us knew Shane Patton. However, as with everyone in attendance, we were completely aware of the sacrifices made by heroes such as Shane Patton.
The next morning, I had the honor of standing among a distinguished company of Navy SEALS, active and retired, who had come to bid farewell to their brother-in-arms. I was envious of the young faces with solid physiques wearing impeccable uniforms. The gold SEAL trident glistened atop their rows of ribbons, many signifying valor in combat.
As we waited patiently outside the chapel, I realized that this gathering was not a boisterous fraternity, but rather an unrivaled brotherhood of men who have been trained and tested to the limits of human endurance and steel-hardened by combat. Their inherent camaraderie was evident even in their revered silence.
I was moved by the scores of men and women in uniform, from every branch of the Armed Forces, as well as the number of police officers in attendance in the overflow gathering of mourners. Shane’s funeral procession had consisted of numerous police vehicles from many agencies. We were there to honor a local hero because every police officer knows what Shane and his buddies were fighting. They were battling the same type of evil-doers who killed 3,000 of our citizens in a cowardly attack during an on-going crusade to destroy America. We all remember 9-11 and the heroics of brave firefighters and police officers who, like Shane Patton, entered a cataclysmic firestorm to save others.
Whenever I drive my patrol car along Veterans Memorial Drive, be it at three in the morning or three in the afternoon, I read the names affixed to the street lights honoring our veterans. As I pass the Southern Nevada Veterans Memorial Cemetery, I say a short prayer giving thanks to the thousands of men and women who sacrificed their lives as Shane did.
To paraphrase John Stuart Mill, “for those who have fought for it, life has a special flavor the sheltered and protected will never know.” Shane and his shipmates courageously fought and died for our way of life. As long as we have extraordinary young people like Shane Patton, we will always have a free and strong America.
Daniel M. Jennings
Captain, U.S. Army (Retired)
The writer is a Boulder City police officer
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