I was new at a National Capital Region office that housed the headquarters of a small, little-known unit of the Joint Special Operations Command in early 2010, and just getting to know how things worked.  No one wore any uniforms, and it was such a flattened and secretive organization that everyone answered to first names only.  One of the people that was helping me break a few “Big Army” habits was the unit’s Senior Enlisted Advisor (SEA).  I initially knew him as Master Chief Petty Officer (SEAL) Britt Slabinski, but he soon disabused me of the notion that I needed to always call him “Master Chief.” (Although, I generally did call him Master Chief anyway…)

“Mike, just call me ‘Slab.’” He said on the first day, as took care of me like any good SEA does, and made sure I had a place to stay (with another SEAL) while I looked for an apartment.  

We weren’t buddies or pals – he was one of the honchos.  Even as a Master Sergeant, there are some levels of familiarization with guys like that that are hard to swallow.  I would often see Slab sitting at the Starbucks, sipping a coffee, and watching the people go by as I walked into the building in the mornings.  He wasn’t what some of you would imagine.  He wasn’t 6’4” and 250 pounds of muscle and attitude.  In fact, he was quite the opposite.  Slab looked like just another dude.  He was unassuming and personable.  If you didn’t know him, you would never have guessed that he was in the Military – much less a SEAL and former leader in DEVGRU (SEAL Team 6).

A short time later we mustered at Arlington to pay respects to a unit member who passed in his sleep while deployed. It was one of the few times that anyone at the unit wore a uniform outside of the mostly sterile kit we wore whilst deployed.  As it was winter, everyone was in dark uniforms, and being the kind of unit it is, there was a lot of bling to be seen.  All of the branches of service were represented, and many were Operators – and I mean for-real Operators.  As in, their actual job title was something like: USASOC Special Mission Unit (SMU) Operator (Delta Force/CAG); or Navy Special Warfare Operator (SEAL) – not just a guy who wears Gucci kit and sports a magnificent beard.

Now, many will play down the importance of medals and ribbons.  Indeed, there is always a raging BroVet debate on awards, decorations, and combat badges – but that is a discussion in and of itself.  The fact is that they tell the story of a servicemember.  It is kind of like wearing your resume on your shirt.  So, when you get to see a bunch of people in uniform with all their ribbons on display, we tend to scan it, and take note of what wars the person has been in, what awards they received, what qualifications they hold, and how many years of service are displayed.  As I looked at the uniforms of the men and women around me, I noticed a lot of Bronze Stars, a few Purple Hearts, lots of Joint awards, and a Silver Star or two.  I was in impressive company – then I looked over at Slab. 

At the top of his rack was a dark blue ribbon with a bold white stripe in the middle.  The Navy Cross.  For those of you who don’t know, that is the Navy equivalent of the Army’s Distinguished Service Cross and the Air Force Cross.  That means that it is one (small) step below a Medal of Honor – the highest honor a servicemember can earn for valor.  After the service, I asked a teammate about Slab’s Navy Cross.  He said simply – “’Robert’s Ridge’ – read the book.  Slab is a for-real bad ass.”

That night I ordered the book on Amazon, and when it got there, I read it cover to cover.  Slab is only identified as that moniker in the book – as others that were still on active service in covert and clandestine units were referred to only by nicknames.  It is an amazing story – and one that most Americans don’t know.  I won’t recount it, but I suggest that you pick up a copy. 

Later, as I was doing some pre-deployment training with some of the Operators, I found out in a personal and hard way, how effective Slab is as a leader.  To keep the story relatively short, I was doing a shooting and driving course at a specialized non-DoD location, and the guest instructors were Senior Non-Commissioned Officer Operators – who shall remain unnamed.  At the end of the training evolution, they invited me to go out for dinner and drinks, and I was all for it.  They did ask me if I minded driving…I should have realized what was next.  These two started downing drinks like they would not see the next sunrise, and I was effectively their ad hoc Designated Driver.  It wasn’t a big deal to me, so I had a single drink, and chilled while they cut loose.

However, they were soon both sloppy drunk, belligerent, and rude.  I went to pay the bill so I could shuffle them out, and one of them passed out, bounced his head off the table and his limp arm slapped his large beer glass off onto the floor with a shattering crash.  The bartender looked at them, then at me, and picked up the phone.

“I’m calling the police” he said, annoyed.

“Dude, just let me pay for everything and I will get them out of here.” I begged.

The barkeep let me pay, and just as I signed the credit card receipt, the shouting began.  The other guy was in a shouting match with a random that was sitting nearby.  I hurried over and realized that the group that he was arguing with, was also military, here for a driving course, and very pissed off.  I tried like hell to charm the situation into de-escalation, but my Operator buddy was in full Alpha mode and screaming at a female Soldier – spittle spraying as he shouted: “Selection is an ongoing process bitch!” pulling out his business card, which for some bizarre reason said exactly who he was and where he was stationed – Fort Bragg (The exact WRONG time to pimp your resume) I tried to snatch the card from him, but she was quicker, and she turned and walked away knowing she had him dead to rights.

I bodily shoved this guy backward and arm-barred him to where his buddy was still comatose in his half-eaten plate of food.  I shouted at him to tighten the fuck up, and let’s leave – NOW.  We got the other guy up and started to the door.  That is when the EMTs showed up, followed closely by the local police.  After pleading with them that I could get these two home safely, and even having to “badge” (the practice of showing a fellow law enforcement officer your badge and credentials to prove you are indeed a cop) them to help convince them that I was legit, they let us go – but watched us all the way to the car – where I promptly stepped in dog shit while helping our drunken friend get in – and drive away. All was well…

We arrived back at our hotel, where Frick and Frack (the passed out one had regained consciousness) immediately accosted the night manager, and bought out all the beer in the small canteen, wanting to continue the party in the lobby.  I was in the process of moving them toward the elevator, when who should arrive, but the female Solider from the restaurant.  Alpha Dawg started screaming again, and she dialed 911.  I was trying like hell to shove them both in the elevator when the same cops showed up.  They were better able to convince the pair that their choices were down to bedtime in the hotel or in the county lockup.  They decided discretion was the better part of valor and retreated to their rooms.  I thanked the cops, and apologized to the hotel staff and went outside to have a smoke.  The other party were outside on the phone, and after a few minutes, we all chatted amicably as I apologized for the incident.  No worries…

Driving back to Arlington the next day, my cell phone rang, and I looked at the screen and saw that it was Slab.  Oh-Shit.  I answered and he said:

“I heard there was some drama last night.”

“Damn, Master Chief, news travels fast – but no worries, no one got hurt and no one went to jail.”

“Well, not really no worries.  That female Soldier is the EO (Equal Opportunity) Rep for her unit and she called her Sergeant Major last night.  Apparently, the Delta guy said some pretty vile shit to her.”

My heart sank.  This was bad.

“Roger that Master Chief – I was trying like hell to get him out of there – but [I told him the story above]”

“It gets worse Mike…”

My heart sank more, if that was possible.  What could be worse?

“Her Sergeant Major used to be over there at The Compound, and is buddies with the current CSM.”

Ouch – that meant that the SEA for Delta Force, and the SEA for the very pissed off EO rep were pals from back in the day.

“Damn, Master Chief…”

“There is more – That guy was already in deep shit for alcohol-related incidents, and was sent out there as a bit of a time out.  The Delta CSM is HOT.

“I imagine so…”

“The good thing is, the female Soldier’s story and yours are identical.  She said you tried like hell to de-escalate and get them out of there.  The only thing is – you should have let me know last night.”

“Roger that Master Chief – no excuse.  But, so you know, I thought it was a non-event.”

“No worries Mike.  Just get back here safe, and write a statement for the CSM.”

I felt my soul come back into my body at that moment.  Slab didn’t come at me in a rage.  He didn’t make assumptions.  He didn’t pre-judge the situation.  I have seen all of that happen before.  I have been on the receiving end of ungodly rage from Senior Non-Coms – and knew I had not done anything wrong.  This was different.  It told me a lot more about who Slab is as a man, and I liked what I learned.

I have often stolen the line – “I am no hero – but I have served with some.” I mean this from the bottom of my heart.  Today, I can share with you that one of those heroes was recognized for conspicuously gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his own life above and beyond the call of duty. Slab’s Navy Cross was superseded when he received our nation’s highest award – The Medal of Honor. 

Slab, I know you will probably never see this, but I want to say that it was an honor to work with you. Thanks for the guidance and the example that you set.  I am proud to have known such a person and know that the Medal of Honor has never settled on a more deserving man.

Here is the citation:

In the early morning of 4 March 2002, then-Senior Chief Slabinski led a reconnaissance team to its assigned area atop Takur Ghar, a 10,000-foot snow-covered mountain in Afghanistan.  An enemy rocket-propelled grenade attack on the insertion helicopter caused Petty Officer Neil Roberts to fall onto the enemy-infested mountaintop below, and forced the damaged helicopter to crash land in the valley below.  Fully aware of the risks, a numerically superior and well-entrenched enemy force, and approaching daylight, without hesitation Senior Chief Slabinski made the selfless and heroic decision to lead the remainder of his element on an immediate and daring rescue back to the mountaintop.  Senior Chief Slabinski’s team, despite heavy incoming enemy fire, was subsequently successfully inserted on top of Takur Ghar.  Senior Chief Slabinski, without regard for his own life, charged directly toward the enemy strongpoint.  He and a teammate fearlessly assaulted and cleared one enemy bunker at close range.  The enemy then unleashed a murderous hail of machine gun fire from a second hardened position twenty meters away.  Senior Chief Slabinski exposed himself to enemy fire on three sides, then moved forward to silence the second position.  With bullets piercing his clothing, he repeatedly charged into deadly fire to personally engage the enemy bunker with direct rifle fire, hand grenades and a grenade launcher on the surrounding enemy positions.  Facing mounting casualties and low on ammunition, the situation became untenable.  Senior Chief Slabinski skillfully maneuvered his team across open terrain, directing them out of effective enemy fire over the mountainside.

Senior Chief Slabinski maneuvered his team to a more defensible position, directed danger-close air support on the enemy, requested reinforcements, and directed the medical care of his rapidly deteriorating wounded teammates, all while continuing to defend his position.  When approaching daylight and accurate enemy mortar fire forced the team to maneuver further down the sheer mountainside, Senior Chief Slabinski carried a seriously wounded teammate through waist-deep snow, and led an arduous trek across precipitous terrain while calling in fires on enemies engaging the team from the surrounding ridges.  Throughout the next 14 hours, he stabilized the casualties and continued the fight against the enemy until the mountain top could be secured and his team was extracted.  His dedication, disregard for his own personal safety and tactical leadership make Master Chief Slabinski unquestionably deserving of this honor.

*NOTE – I know there is a group of people who would disparage Slab’s performance, integrity, and actions on that day, especially concerning the fate of T/SGT John Chapman (He earned the MoH in the same engagement, albeit posthumously) I have read all of the reports, watched all of the video, and knew the man. Not to be disrespectful of either Chapman, his family, or his supporters, but I simply do not think that the evidence supports the idea that Slab knowingly left Chapman alive on Takur Ghar. Further – he just was not the kind of man that would have knowingly left someone living behind. Not for nothing, but the rest of his record, including FIVE Bronze Star Medals for Valor as well as the Navy and Marine Corps Medal (The highest non-combat decoration awarded for heroism by the United States Department of the Navy) speak volumes to his bravery and selfless actions. In other words – check the resume on his shirt. To be fair, the whole return mission was to rescue someone who was left behind – ABH1 (SEAL) Neil Roberts – enough said on that.