Tom Sileo Read Online Free Page A

folks, come back and we’ll chat again,” Gardner said. “Just get away from this place for a little while, enjoy yourself, and I think you might feel differently.”
    â€œI’ve made up my mind and don’t need time to think about it,” Travis responded. “I was told all I have to do is talk to you and that’s it.”
    â€œHave a good Thanksgiving, Travis,” Gardner said. “Please give my best to your mom and dad.”
    Travis jumped out of his chair, snatched his resignation packet, and hurried out of the lieutenant colonel’s office. Although he had too much respect for Gardner to slam his door, he couldn’t help but mutter “this is ridiculous” under his breath when he was far enough down the hallway.
    While most Americans were thinking about the “Y2K” computer scare and the coming dawn of a new millennium, Travis was enduring his most difficult Thanksgiving ever. Just as he had expected, his dad was angry when Travis told him he was leaving the academy.
    â€œLook, this is your call and your decision,” Tom told his son, who he always believed could excel at the Naval Academy and beyond. “But I think you’re making a big mistake.”
    Ever since running around his house singing the Marine Corps hymn with his sister, Ryan, when they were little kids, the academy had seemed like the most logical step to Travis. But once he actually got there, he was introduced to the daily routine: wake up at 5:30 a.m., get your room inspected, eat breakfast at 7:00 a.m., start class at 7:55, and then sit in lecture halls all day before a grueling 3:00 p.m. wrestling practice. After a full day of physical and academic challenges, Travis and other midshipmen would spend most of the evening studying and preparing for the next day’s classes.
    It was an exhausting routine for any college student. Travis couldn’t imagine returning from vacation and starting the grind all over again.
    The holiday was gloomy for Travis, who barely touched his Thanksgiving dinner. As sounds of laughter filled the living room, where his mom and dad, Ryan, and other relatives were socializing, Travis knew his time at the Naval Academy was over. A few days later, he returned to Lieutenant Colonel Gardner’s office with his completed resignation packet.
    â€œI’m really sorry to see you go, Travis,” Gardner said. “I wish you the best, but I also want you to know that if you ever want to come back, I will put in a word for you.”
    â€œI appreciate that, sir,” Travis replied. “But this place isn’t for me.”
    Travis, who had made good grades at Navy, had no problem gaining admission to Drexel University in Philadelphia, wherehe contributed significantly as a freshman Division I-A lacrosse player while planning to join the wrestling team.
    Travis didn’t hate Drexel. But after spending a semester away from Annapolis, his appreciation for what Navy stood for, as well as the bonds he had forged with several academy friends, made him regret his decision to leave. There was only one place for Travis Manion, and if he could get another chance, it was time to go back.

    Neil Toohey came to the Naval Academy straight out of high school without any exposure to military life prior to the fall of 2000. After getting his head shaved during “I-Day,” induction day for incoming midshipmen during plebe summer, Toohey was rushing back to his room to finish unpacking his belongings before his room was to be inspected for the first time. He had already seen another plebe being berated for screwing up and didn’t want that to happen to him on his first day.
    Toohey arrived in his room to find a muscular, brown-haired guy going through his clothes. At first he thought it was one of the upperclassmen doing an inspection, but this guy was wearing a plebe’s uniform. As Toohey was pondering the possibility that someone was going