Adam Lee Brown

February 4th, 1974, to March 17th, 2010

15 years. I found an old thumb drive with a video of Adam I took in Mosul in 2004— added it to the post below.

It gives a good sense of who he was in seven seconds.

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I remember:

When you wore the Chicken Suit because you had the lowest shooting score in training.

Someone lost the suit. You got blamed, had to make a new suit from scratch in your free time.

The tale you told in the dark woods at Fort AP Hill, which will remain classified until the heat death of the sun.

Wheh you tried to snort an oyster through your nose in Newport, Rhode Island. You could not. Someone else succeeded and spit it on the sandy ground. You promptly ate it as penance for your failure.

Getting our Tridents after a three-mile ocean swim in cammies.

When you got stove fuel on your gloves and lit them on fire.

That day when you set your ‘60 down on a giant bee nest and let loose a cyclic rip, displeasing them in great measure.

The anthill in that Mississippi swamp that earned you $20 from every man, and jewelry for Kelley for your act of bold/courageous/foolish/insane teabagging.

Sniper school when you stomped impatiently across the stalk field in full view of the cadre and somehow didn’t get caught because it was so ridiculous.

When you shot bottle rockets off inside the old house at Shaws (if those walls could talk).

Long road trips where you insisted on driving the entire thing and turning your whole body to vigorously address people, alarming all passengers.

The day you lost your eye, bull charging up the stairs of that cinder block house into a hail of simunition during platoon on platoon training.

When we went whitewater rafting in Colorado. The only reason you came was because it the was Arkansas River. We somehow brought zero camping gear and spent all night shivering on a rocky beach.

Rooming together more times than I can count—late night drinks arguing politics, religion, and life.

The day you lost your fingers outside Bagram and Eddie bandaged them back in place, saving them. Drew’s alive day.

When you stopped by to see us in Fredericksburg—you and Kelley were the first people we told that Chrissy was pregnant.

You said it hurts when you break a whiskey bottle over your head, but it hurts more when it doesn’t break.

You said you fall down a lot, but you don’t get hurt.

You said if you want God to laugh, tell him your plans.

I got to write the inscription on the paddle when you left the Team:

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The Ballad of Adam Brown

SEAL Team FOUR was where you made your debut,

Stabbing your face on a dive would be nothing new.

At Stennis you proved insects were a menace,

First bees and then ants breached your defenses.

Arkansas’s finest, PTs never wearied,

But who would believe your crazy bubble theory?

Stanardsville taught you Escape and Evasion,

Save your burning gloves, it was a vacation.

A sim fight in Alabama proved you had no fear,

But a stray round caused more than a tear.

It kept you from combat, this cruel fate,

But showed your true character, your lack of hate.

Afghanistan in ’05 should have been your time to shine,

I think god was saving you from a land mine.

He took a few fingers, but then gave them back,

You shrugged it off; it didn’t mean jack.

So, it’s off to Green Team, a fate long deserved,

A place at the table for you is reserved.

Any SEAL will agree when they get in the mix,

All would be honored to have you watching their six.

Fair Winds and Following Seas,

From the Warriors of SEAL Team TWO.

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We miss you and your infectious joy, fierce devotion, and unconquerable spirit.

Until We Meet Again—Long Live The Brotherhood.

-       Guz