Читать книгу The 15:17 to Paris: The True Story of a Terrorist, a Train and Three American Heroes - Anthony Sadler, Anthony Sadler - Страница 21

HE THOUGHT HE’D RECOVERED by the time the recruiter called. In that moment of shock after his disqualification Spencer had, in a daze, selected SERE, preparing people for getting captured behind enemy lines. At least what the acronym stood for sounded intense—survival, evasion, resistance, and escape—and he didn’t have much else to go on, but it seemed like perhaps a chance to accomplish something. It was between that and TACP, tactical air control party, but in the moment, as cool as calling in airstrikes sounded, the short paragraph describing TACP made it sound a little too much like air traffic control. He’d be learning to do “deconfliction.” He didn’t want to tell pilots who were actually doing things how to avoid crashing into each other. He’d rather help them learn how to survive if they did. So he’d listed SERE in the moment of shock, then gone home and forgotten about it.

He barely knew what SERE really was, and he wasn’t ready. He was still reeling from those twin emotions that held him back, the notion that there wasn’t really any good reason to work hard for anything, and the impulse to question people in positions in authority.

He couldn’t have been entering an environment he was more poorly suited for.

The whole purpose of SERE training was preventing you from having control, mimicking a situation in which you were entirely at someone else’s mercy. Some of it was preparing to actually be a prisoner. It was a class set up to test your resolve, but resolve was something Spencer was running low on. He was having a hard time caring much about anything.

On the night he shipped out, Anthony came over to the hotel in Sacramento. He brought a girl with him, but was focused mostly on Spencer. They hung out for a few hours, took a picture, watched some TV. Basketball was on. Spencer was going to Texas for basic training, but from there he’d report to his assignment, wherever in the world it was, and wouldn’t be back until his air force career was over. He could be sent anywhere, to war maybe. Which meant this could be goodbye for a while; the next time they saw one another, as far as they knew, could be after Spencer had returned from some foreign adventure.

They spent a little more time together, watched some more basketball, then said goodbye. Neither quite knew if it was time for a hug. They shook hands.

Spencer said, “Well, I guess I’ll see you when I see you,” and he turned to go back to his room.

“Listen,” Anthony said, “just … just keep your head down.”

Spencer smiled. He was touched, even though Anthony’s concern felt a little much. It’s the freaking air force, Spencer thought. It’s not like I’m going off to fight terrorists.

And then Anthony went back to his girl.