information.
Bryant knew his SEAL career was on the line. He was four months from the end of his enlistment, but he was considering reenlisting for a second term of duty. This incident might change everything. When reflecting on his situation in private, he frequently smiled ruefully and shook his head. Deep inside, he knew he would have reacted the same to the killing of his adopted canine friend despite his regret at being in his current situation. But a big part of him wished he hadn’t.
Finally, Bryant replied, “Yes, sir, he did.”
Stevens hesitated. He realized that he would likely not receive much more from Bryant. He decided to continue his relaxed and even more indirect approach.
“Tell me a little about how you had this dog in your unit and how you found him.”
Stevens noticed that Bryant was moving his eyes, a sign he was remembering the events surrounding the incident. He waited, giving Bryant time to respond.
A wave of mental images surged through Bryant. He held back tears as he recalled the first time that Nick, the name he gave this medium-sized mongrel with an orange-brown coat, came slinking up toward his position in a sniper nest.
At first, he waved his hand at the dog, trying to shoo it away. He knew the dog’s presence could expose his position to the enemy, jeopardizing him and his unit members. When the dog didn’t leave, Bryant realized he needed to try something different. He could strike the dog, hopefully frightening it away, or lure it close enough to gain physical control. Bryant chose the latter, and as he reflected, he didn’t have a choice.
Bryant pulled out some MRE (meals ready to eat) leftovers and offered that to the dog. Soon the dog was sitting by his side. The urgency to get the mongrel to lie by his side and under the cover of his sniper nest was high. Bryant tried to train the dog quickly by offering small amounts of food when the dog settled in near Bryant’s feet, but remained nervous. Fortunately, this survivor of Afghanistan’s rugged landscape was a quick learner, and soon he was lying at Bryant’s side with his dark-brown eyes staring hopefully at its new friend and savior.
After several minutes of food training, Bryant was able to return his attention to the mission. Bryant’s mind flashed forward to the many times Nick followed him across the plateaus of Afghanistan and even enjoyed a helicopter ride back to base camp. He mentally smiled when remembering how he had to cajole the copter crew to let the dog ride with him.
Then Bryant’s mind turned dark. He could see his team member Casey Lawrence. The vision was of Lawrence watching Nick snuggle up against his gear and nuzzle his bag where he kept his food rations. Without saying anything, Lawrence kicked at Nick and struck him in the ribs with his boot. Nick yelped and jumped away. Bryant had yelled at Lawrence, but he was too far away to intervene. Lawrence kicked again at Nick. This time, Nick was ready, and he nipped at Lawrence’s ankle. The bite was restrained, but Lawrence yelled more from surprise than pain. Bryant suppressed a laugh, but his mood quickly changed when he heard Lawrence swear and saw him draw his pistol, taking aim at Nick.
The blast from Lawrence’s weapon seemed to flash like a bomb in Bryant’s brain. Shock, followed by intense anger, exploded in him before he had time to think. He charged at Lawrence immediately, and they engaged in a fight, yelling obscenities at each other. Bryant’s initial tackle slammed Lawrence into the Afghan dust. Immediately, Bryant’s anger seemed to push the advantage toward him; and Lawrence, in desperation, pulled a Ka-Bar knife and waved it at Bryant defensively. Bryant stopped his attack instantly, and his mind became cold and incisive. The anger-driven adrenaline took a back seat, and Bryant’s skills and training took over his thought process briefly. Then Lawrence lunged. He slashed back and forth twice. On the third pass, Bryant twisted to his left and caught Lawrence by the arm. With the Krav Maga training almost second nature, Bryant pushed downward and twisted Lawrence’s wrist. His knife was facing his own stomach. Lawrence immediately dropped his knife. Bryant thrusted upward with his knee hitting Lawrence in his jaw and sending him sprawling backward on to the ground.
By then, a few other SEAL team members had gathered around the fight. Some yelling while others stared in disbelief and concern. Lawrence was not well liked and had little support in the crowd, but when Bryant straddled Lawrence and began to pummel him, a few jumped in to stop the beating. Finally, Bryant was pulled off Lawrence, and firm hands held him from his objective, which seemed to be to kill him. Lawrence’s prostrate form was carefully pulled away from the fight scene, and a medic was called to attend to his wounds. It was soon recognized that he was unable to speak.
Bryant suddenly realized he had been mentally absent from the interrogation room. He looked at Stevens and sensed that the “shrink” had been staring at him intently. Bryant shut his affect down immediately, but it was too late.
“You were reliving the fight, weren’t you?” Stevens probed.
It was more of a statement than a question, but Bryant realized that a response was expected. He pursed his lips and nodded his head slightly.
Stevens sat back and sighed. He knew that the ability to delve deeper into the mind of Bryant would be almost impossible without a lot of time, and even then, he might have little success. He had little time.
Captain Bryce Ericson had requested, or more accurately, demanded that Stevens wrap up the evaluation by next week. Stevens knew he could not do that with Bryant’s limited statements. So far, Bryant had neither defended himself nor commented on Lawrence. He had not even expressed any remorse. The latter disturbed Stevens the most.
Stevens intuitively decided to take an even more oblique approach. He knew from experience that an indirect line of questioning sometimes led to quicker and more accurate results.
“Where did you grow up, Bryant?” This was not a yes-or-no question, and it was not apparently tied to the incident. A back door, Stevens noted to himself.
With a brief hesitation and a puzzled look, Bryant responded, “Oregon, sir, Eastern Oregon.”
“Let’s drop the ‘sir’ stuff for the rest of the interview, Bryant.”
“Yes, sir—um, I mean okay.”
“Tell me a little bit about what growing up in Oregon, uh, Eastern Oregon was like.”
After an even longer hesitation, Bryant finally said, “Well, I don’t know what you want to know, but it was a good place to grow up. I had lots of hills, mountains, and canyons to explore, when I wasn’t working around the ranch.”
“You lived on a ranch?” Stevens probed.
“Yeah, I did,” Bryant replied.
“What was that like?”
Bryant could feel that he was letting his guard down. His mind conjured images of the ranch and the surrounding land north of Burns, a small town in Oregon. He turned over thoughts of his childhood, both good and bad, fun times and times he wished he could forget.
“We had cattle and a few horses and a couple of four-wheelers. It was hard work and fun at the same time.”
“Did you have brothers and sisters?” Stevens noted that Bryant’s head shifted backward, and his eyes seemed to open slightly.
Bryant acknowledged to himself that this was one of the hard times in his life. He had not expected it to come up in this meeting.
After a longer pause, Bryant said, “A half sister.”
“So
