We learned that the men were Iranian and had been drifting aimlessly for days after the engine of their small motorboat failed. We brought them on board and provided them with medical treatment, clothing, food and water. Then another problem arose. “What’s happening now?” Where do they go from here? Naturally, they wanted to go home right away. However, the United States and Iran have no diplomatic relations. Landing both countries would be a bureaucratic nightmare. We radioed the linguists to call for a tugboat and arrange for a safe return under cover of night. And it all went according to plan. The next day, our captain placed a medal on the young sailor’s uniform for saving two lives. But we all held onto our chests a kind of badge of honor, a story of heroism to tell.
This happened more than 20 years ago, but it’s fresh in our minds again this month with the news that two Navy SEALs went missing at sea. Their team had just intercepted a ship in rough waters off the coast of Yemen in the middle of the night. Once aboard, the team discovered Iranian-made weapons components meant to supply rebels targeting ships in the Red Sea, including firing ballistic missiles at U.S. Navy ships. However, before this discovery, one of the SEALs slipped while boarding and fell into the depths under the weight of his armor. Another person followed him. The law requires it – seafarers help people in danger at sea. The navy searched for 10 days in vain, hoping to find luck in waters far from home. There are also some memorable stories related to the sea.
The SEALs acted that night to make policy choices in a dangerous world. Yemen’s Houthi rebels are bringing in weapons from Iran in small smuggling boats and are attempting to disrupt a vital global trade route in a show of solidarity with Palestinians in the Gaza Strip. So the United States did everything in its power to protect its people and interests. But that night, two of our brightest men gave their lives not to consecrate a national security goal, but to serve a code.
This distinction is important. People who put themselves at risk are usually not ardent defenders of the policies and actions that created the risks they face. First responders, educators, social workers, Navy SEALs. They do not risk their lives out of dedication to an organization or politician, or to comply with a bulleted list of protest movement demands. Rather, in the best cases, their sacrifices come from a sense of duty to first principles. There are stories of people helping others amidst the chaos of the world. That’s where the heroes are.
A few days after the rescue of the fishermen, all the sharp-eyed sailors and crew members buzzed with pride. We retold the story so many times that it began to feel like a myth. The role was playfully exaggerated. Irreverent humor has arrived – a sign of respect for sailors. Everyone who visited our ship heard the story. That included the Admiral, who stopped his lively round-up with news that shook our souls. Iranian fishermen were hanged – executed for being associated with us and saved by the United States. The crew was heartbroken. For many of us, the badge became a traumatic event. unique medal.
It’s a complex world and the waters are murky everywhere. Doing the right thing doesn’t always pay off. Sometimes lives are saved, but sometimes lives are taken as a result of politics and callousness. And sometimes life is given in service to something bigger than politics. We have a responsibility to all of them, in our classrooms, in our dangerous communities, and in our dangerous waters, not only to the victims of injustice, but also to those who jump in to help.
It brings back memories of another day at sea, off the coast of California. Some jet skiers got lost and were stranded overnight. The news reached our naval battle group, which was out on exercises before its summer deployment. We participated in a search and rescue mission in a story so fantastical that it seemed like an urban legend. To find them in the big ocean, all the lucky winds needed to gather on the surface of the water. But I had to follow the code and give it a try. The next morning, fortune smiled and the Coast Guard awarded our group with certificates and sea stories on our uniforms. It’s also a story of grit that you can carry with you forever.