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Rogue Warrior por Richard Marcinko
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Rogue Warrior (original 1992; edição 1993)

por Richard Marcinko (Autor)

Séries: Rogue Warrior (1)

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609829,689 (3.89)9
Richard Marcinko was the U.S. Navy's most unconventional warrior -- and its most deadly. A master practitioner of the, "Let's Do It to Them Before They Do It to Us," school of survival, he was often as feared by his own high command as by the enemy.This brilliant, tough-as-nails military virtuoso of violence -- ambushes, booby, traps, exotic weaponry, high altitude parachute drops, underwater infiltrations, face-to-face killing -- rose through Navy ranks to create and command one of this country's most elite and secretive counterterrorist units, SEAL TEAM SIX. Now, in his own colorful voice, this thirty-year veteran recounts the story of the secret missions and Special Warfare madness that make up his harrowing worldwide military career. Here, too, he opens doors that have long been locked, the riveting truth about the mystery-shrouded Navy SEALS, what went on behind the scenes during the infamous Desert One hostage rescue attempt in Iran, and the stunning inside realities of the Granada invasion. Born on Thanksgiving Day, 1940, Dick Marcinko was raised in mining towns, housing projects, blue-collar bars, and on the streets. He quit school at seventeen and enlisted in a new life of thrill-seeking. He joined the Navy's Underwater Demolition Teams, which he calls "a masochist's dream." Then he attended over eighteen special-training schools, where he excelled in the lethal, survival and leadership skills that would gain him entrance into the upper strata of military warfare, the SEALS. Marcinko was almost inhumanly tough, and proved it on hair-raising missions across Vietnam and a war-torn world, blowing up supply junks, charging through minefields, jumping at 19,000 feet with a chute that wouldn't open, fighting hand-to-hand in a hellhole jungle, and experiencing the tragedy of watching a buddy die in his arms. He was such a threatening force on the killing fields of Vietnam that the enemy posted a reward for his death. For the Pentagon, Marcinko organized the Navy's first counterterrorist unit, the legendary SEAL TEAM SIX. One of the most feared weapons against terrorism in the world, the Team went on classified missions from Central America to the Middle East, the North Sea, Africa and beyond. Out of this success, Marcinko was tapped to create the explosive unit know as Red Cell, a dirty-dozen team of the military's most accomplished and decorated counterterrorists. Their unbelievable job was to become terrorists themselves -- to test the defense of the Navy's most secure facilities and installations. The Navy was actually going to pay go-for-broke Marcinko to wreak havoc. The result was predictable, all hell broke loose. In Rogue Warrior, Marcinko recounts his searing adventures in the special branches of the military reserved for a handpicked few. Here is the hard-working hero . . . the killer who saw beyond the blood to ultimate justice . . . and the decorated warrior who became such a maverick that the Navy brass wanted his head on a pole, and for a time, got it. This, and more, is Marcinko, a man made for war.… (mais)
Membro:Dan.the.man
Título:Rogue Warrior
Autores:Richard Marcinko (Autor)
Informação:Pocket Books (1993), 416 pages
Colecções:A sua biblioteca
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Rogue Warrior por Richard Marcinko (1992)

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Richard Marcinko

with John Weisman

Rogue Warrior

Pocket Books, Paperback [1993].

12mo. xv+397 pp. Foreword by John Weisman, October 1991 [xiii-xv]. Glossary [375-82]. Index [383-97]. 16 pp. with black-and-white photos.

First Pocket Books hardcover printing, March 1992.
First Pocket Books paperback printing, March 1993.
24th printing per number line, undated [c. 2001].

Contents

Foreword

Part One: Geek
Part Two: UNODIR

Glossary
Index

========================================

Richard Marcinko is one of my teenage heroes who didn’t make it to adulthood. That’s the fate of most teenage heroes anyway. I read this book, his autobiography, for the first time in translation not long after it was published. I became a fan and later read many of his “Rogue Warrior” fictional adventures published in the late 1990s. He continued to publish them in the new century as well, but I found I had grown up too much and stopped reading them. Nevertheless, for old times’ sake, I thought I might have another look at this teen favourite of mine, this time in the original language.

I’ll let you in on something. The best way to begin reading this book is – from the Glossary. Evidently written by Marcinko himself, it explains the title of Part Two (“UNless Otherwise DIRected”) and plenty of other obscure acronyms, it is hilarious to read, and it gives a perfect idea what to expect from the book as a style and from Marcinko as a personality. I cannot resist quoting some choice examples for the benefit of the unknown reader:

C-4: white plastic explosive. It is so stable you can ignite it and nothing bad will happen. Just don’t stamp on it to put the fire out.
C-5A: no explosives here – this is the Air Force’s biggest transport plane.

Christians In Action: SEAL slang for Central Intelligence Agency and its personnel.

dip-dunk: nerdy asshole (see NILO).
NILO: Naval Intelligence Liaison Officer (see dip-dunk).

Navyspeak: redundant, bureaucratic naval nomenclature, either in written nonoral, or nonwritten oral, mode, indecipherable by non-military (conventional) individuals during interfacing configuration conformations.

Marcinko: see dumbshit.
dumbshit: expression of affection used by chiefs to describe their favorite people.

shit: what happens.
shit-for-brains: a real numb-nuts pencil-dicked asshole; or: anyone from NIS
[Naval Security and Investigative Command].

cockbreath: what SEALs call people who only pay lip service.
LDO: Limited Duty Officer (or, in SEAL slang, Loud, Dumb, and Obnoxious).

SEALs: the Navy’s SEa-Air-Land units. The most elite special operations force in the U.S. arsenal. When they were created in 1962, there were only fifty SEALs. In SEAL slang the acronym stands for Sleep, Eat, and Live it up.

SNAFU: Situation Normal: All Fucked Up.

ERA: (Equal Rights Amendment) Marcinko’s philosophy about people: Treat them all the same – JUST LIKE SHIT.

KISS: Keep It Simple, Stupid.


Now, this book is supposed to be non-fiction. Except for some deliberate changes “not to betray current SpecWar techniques”, presumably it tells the true story of Richard Marcinko. Well, it doesn’t read like a novel. It reads better than most novels. I have no idea how much of it was written by John Weisman, the official ghostwriter and the sole author of a fawning Foreword, but I do suspect his contribution is limited to occasionally superfluous adjectives and adverbs, a few literary allusions and fancy descriptions, and the overall structure of the narrative. The writing is detailed, digressive and long-winded, especially when “SpecWar” is described. But it’s also chatty, readable and consistently entertaining, occasionally even thought-provoking.

Marcinko’s personality on these pages, you must have noticed already, is palpable and fascinating. It is indeed explosive, and a lot less stable than C-4. The most characteristic thing about him is contempt for authority, especially the cumbersome bureaucratic version that does everything by the book. Red tape, paper work and desk job are the three things he hates most, together with the phrase “analyze and evaluate” beloved by the bureaucrats. To Marcinko it seems inconceivable that “some four-star, pencil-dicked Pentagon paper-pusher” should analyse and evaluate his work. If things must be done by the book, it has to be his book. If a chain of command is to exist at all, it must be with him at the top. This attitude brought Marcinko to a lot of trouble at every stage of his long career.

Marcinko doesn’t like anybody but himself and his “Muscle-bound Merry Murderous Marauders”. He barely mentions his father, mother and brother. He had a wife and a couple of kids, somewhere in the States while he was in Vietnam, Cambodia, Egypt, Lebanon or the North Sea, but they are not much mentioned, either. There’s no love lost between Marcinko and the Army, or the Air Force for that matter. He has some cute digs at both of them. The Air Force is “home of $600 toilet seats and $200 pliers.” Enough said! As for those guys in the Army, well:

Much of the time we did our waiting in one establishment or another that served liquid refreshments. Sometimes we’d receive visitors, gentleman callers in Army khaki, who – after the proper pleasantries had been exchanged – we would mash into paste.

But Marcinko loves the Navy, as well he might. The Navy gave him everything: life, training, career, guns, explosives, boats, parachutes and other nice toys to play with. Even education: he got his high-school diploma, a BA in international affairs, and even a master’s degree in political science. Hell, he even graduated from the OCS (Officer Candidate School, or “Organized Chicken Shit”). Some of his old pals couldn’t believe their eyes. Dick, an officer?! That’s a good one!

The Navy also taught Marcinko, quite early in his career, the most valuable lesson in life, never mind where or how you live it. It is indeed a priceless lesson and very few of us learn it: “never stereotype anyone. Never assume just by looking that someone is suited for something.” The special guys under Marcinko’s command were all deadly in combat, but otherwise they came in all sizes, shapes and even characters. Some were bar-trained hell-raisers, Marcinko himself being a most impressive example; he actually considers binge drinking and “full-contact bar-brawling” essential parts of the training process. Others were introverted guys who spent their free time with a book, and Marcinko was willing to leave them alone – so long as they were deadly in battle, of course.

Marcinko being Marcinko, he doesn’t spare the Navy some criticism when he thinks they deserve it. But he does try to provide a balanced assessment that leaves no doubt of his gratitude:

The Navy’s caste system has the reputation of being about as rigid as any in the world. The first thing most Navy officers do when they meet you is look at your hands to see whether or not you’re wearing a Naval Academy class ring. If you do, then you’re a part of the club. If you don’t, then you’re an untouchable. I was the original untouchable. The only things I wore on my knuckles were scars. But I loved my work and was uncommonly good at it, and in a few rare cases – mine included – the Navy establishment rewards ability almost as nicely as it does jewelry.

Many reviewers have remarked on Marcinko’s colossal vanity. As you can see, it is quite true. He knows it, and he thinks he is right to have it. Perhaps he is. Considering his career, he seems justified to be full of himself.

Marcinko’s life story is the modern version of the picaresque novel. It may well be partly fictional, not so much because he deliberately falsified it, but rather because he was fond, as are we all, of romanticising the past. It’s quite a story anyway. Much of it is epic machismo posturing. But there is more to it than that.

Born in a dysfunctional coal-mining family of Czech extraction from Lansford, Pennsylvania, “that’s about half an hour northwest of Allentown, and a lifetime from Philadelphia”, Marcinko grew up mostly in New Brunswick, New Jersey, where he attended but never finished high school. He nevertheless managed to join the Navy in 1958, not yet 18 years old (born on Thanksgiving, 1940), and was promptly sent, as sailors are, to see the world. In June 1961, he was already in Little Creek, Virginia, “a masochist’s dream”, where he spent “sixteen glorious weeks of torture, madness, and mayhem”. In other words, he was training to become a “Frogman”, that is to say member of UDT (Underwater Demolition Team, or in SEAL slang “UnderDeveloped Twerp” or “Urinal Drain Technician”).

Vietnam came just in time to make Marcinko a SEAL, “a world of difference” compared to Frogman, and then something like a living legend. He made two tours largely behind enemy lines and often following only one set of orders – his own. If he is to be believed, he was reckless, unconventional and lethal. He was probably one of the very few people who found Vietnam “fun” and liked it “a whole lot”. He felt at home there. “War was great!”, he remarks at one place, I suspect without being in the least ironic. He describes shooting and blowing up people with relish which is a tad disconcerting, but his argument for doing so is unanswerable: they were out to kill him, he killed them first. Fair enough!

The Vietnam chapters certainly provide a graphic account of the war by somebody who took an active part in it but had absolutely no idea, nor did he care, what it was about. Only towards the end, briefly, does Marcinko address this subject, saying, in effect, that the Americans were stupid to meddle with the age-old conflict between north and south.

Marcinko mellows so much in the end that he even allows himself some kind remarks about the Vietnamese, not “Charlie” whom he was happy to gun down and whose corpses he booby-trapped for the benefit of those who found them, but the friendly villagers who welcomed them as guests. Marcinko and his men even paid for the fish and rice they ate. Then they played together the charming Vietnamese game of passing demons to each other. If this is not a euphemism for massacre, it is a rare moment of tenderness in a rather violent book. One feels that, in a different universe where he spends more than a week per year with his family, Marcinko could have been a good father. Not in this universe, though.

Vietnam also brought into sharp contrast the leitmotif of Marcinko’s life. If the author is to be believed, he assaulted superior officers verbally and even physically on a number of occasions when those “queer cockbreath pussies” failed to appreciate the SEAL genius for guerrilla warfare. How come he was never court-martialled is a mystery to me. Whether Marcinko’s magnificent achievements (165 confirmed killings, 60 probables, 100 captured, five tons of rice and eleven of medicines destroyed, etc.) during his second jungle tour (December 1967 – June 1968) had even the slightest effect on the war is anybody’s guess. Marcinko couldn’t care less. For him it was “a vacation. Excitement, fun. Life in the mud. Get shot at. Shoot Japs. Good shit.”

Vietnam was an eye-opener in another significant way. Marcinko lost one of his men and, with typical selfishness, for the first time in his life realised his own mortality. In his late twenties, he finally began to grow up. The man’s death wasn’t Marcinko’s fault. The guy simply went crazy, shooting and laughing (“the crazy motherfucker was actually laughing”) in the middle of the street until a sniper shot him in the head. If he didn’t die instantly, he died in Marcinko’s hands literally with his brains blown out. Life-changing experience, vividly and powerfully described.

It certainly changed Marcinko’s priorities. Number One objective before was: kill as many enemies as possible. Number One objective now was: bring back your men alive. There can be no doubt about Marcinko’s love for his men. It is roughly equal to the amount of affectionate profanity he heaps on them. “To the shooters – who have been, and always will be” the book is dedicated.

Vietnam is fun all right, at least according to the author, but it’s over before half of the book is. There is a good deal more. Marcinko kept himself busy. He even became a naval bureaucrat for some time, career plans, cocktail parties and all. He had his college education, a taste of intelligence work and what not. Indeed, the miracle to end all miracles, he even played a full-time husband and father for a while. “It wasn’t as bad as I’d thought.” Sure, nowhere near as much fun as Vietnam, but still fun, kind of, sort of. (Marcinko did volunteer for a third tour in Jungle Heaven, but the Navy said “No”.) It never ceases to amaze me that guys like Marcinko marry and have children at all. Why waste time on what you don’t care for at all?

In 1973-74, Marcinko spent fourteen months as a naval attaché in Cambodia, probably the only one in history who “spent more time in combat than in diplomacy”, but there was also plenty of fun like bodysurfing on the Mekong, drinking cobra blood and venom, eating all sorts of gruesome stuff and, of course, many LBFMs (“Little Brown Fucking Machines”). In the 1980s, Marcinko created SEAL Team Six, the best counterterrorist unit in the world (according to the creator anyway), and Red Cell, an elite group designed to test the security of naval bases and other military facilities. Both brought him into full-contact sparring with the authorities. Marcinko is perfectly aware of his explosive temper and violent methods. He freely admits both and characteristically offers apology for neither:

I’ve often been asked if I ever felt like pleading guilty because I screwed with the system for so many years. Didn’t I feel guilty for using so much profanity? Didn’t I feel guilty about the strong-arm methods I used to get what I wanted? Didn’t I feel guilty about making my superiors eat shit?

My answer has always been the same: guilty – absolutely. Guilty as charged. Guilty of putting my men before bureaucratic bullshit. Guilty of spending as much money as I can get my hands on to train my men properly. Guilty of preparing for war instead of peace. Of all these things I am indeed guilty. Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima fucking culpa.


John Weisman is probably correct that Marcinko’s “tragic flaw”, if such a grand expression may be permitted, was that “his loyalties always lay with the men under his command, rather than with the Navy system of which he was a part.” To this it should be added that Marcinko does have good points about the unwieldy bureaucracy and the lack of real combat experience among the top brass, but he tends to be whiny and preachy about them. Besides, the second point is open to serious debate. First-hand experience is by no means enough and seldom goes hand in hand with the ability to analyse and organise on a larger scale. Ironically, Marcinko’s own definition of war – and it’s an excellent one: “War is totally unpredictable. It is a continual series of screwups, each one worse than the last.” – strongly suggests that instinct, intuition, innate perceptiveness, call it what you will, is more important than mere experience (which is useful, I’d say, but hardly essential).

In the late 1980s, having retired from the Navy after thirty years of service, Marcinko’s lifelong belief that his personal ends justify any means finally got him into serious trouble. He was indicted for some foggy conspiracy and sentenced to 21 months vacation and $10,000 fine. Of course, in his opinion, he was an innocent victim of yet another witch-hunt. But he took it like a man. He did his time writing this very book which later became quite a bestseller (some of the last pages are in the present tense), making money as a jail gardener and taking an impressive amount of exercise for a man of fifty. Free again, he reinvented himself as a successful author of both fiction and non-fiction, motivational speaker, military consultant and even a radio talk show host. Not bad for a navy boy who “screwed with the system” for three decades.

All in all, this was an amusing and, at times, slightly chilling book. Whatever one’s personal opinion of Marcinko, there is little doubt that he developed to the utmost whatever gifts the nasty Providence bestowed on him. No more can be asked of any man. But one must be grateful to armies and navies, especially to their special forces, for giving men like Marcinko an outlet for their aggressive natures. Heaven knows what havoc they might cause on the other side. My reading plans for this year, vague as they are, include Red Cell (1994), Marcinko’s first fictional adventure. Then we’ll part company for good. It’s been a pleasure, though.

PS. The photos are mostly too small to be of much use, but there are a few exceptions. Several full-page portraits of the author are quite charming. One shows him at the age of two in a sailor’s suit. “Did my mother”, the caption runs, “know something I didn’t?” Marcinko clean-shaven in naval uniform is completely unrecognisable side by side with his “rogue terrorist” look which is even more hairy than the one on the front cover. Cutest of all is one certified translation from Vietnamese of two posters offering prizes for Marcinko’s head, 50,000 piasters for “any one who could kill First Lieutenant Demo Dick Marcinko, gray-faced killer who had brought death and trouble to the Chau Phu Province during the Lunar New Year” and 10,000 piasters for “any one who could kill the leader of the secret blue-eyed killer’s party which had massacred many families during the United Nation day of 2 January 1968.” The second is reproduced in the original Vietnamese as well. Marcinko was furious that his name was known to Charlie: “So much for operational security.” ( )
  Waldstein | Jan 1, 2020 |
Really cool true story of a spec ops warrior. One of those dirty "man" books where the language is foul, the subject matter is dirty/explicit, and it's just a great read. ( )
  biggs1399 | Jan 19, 2016 |
Badass. That's about the only way to describe Richard Marcinko a retired Navy Seal and founder of the most elite team of Seal, 6. Well, badass, reckless, and full of himself. However, I can forgive him his insanely high opinion of himself considering some of the stuff he accomplished during his long, but often troubled, military career.

When I was in the Army I really, really, wanted to join the Special Forces which is sort of like the Army's version of Seals. However, I didn't and that alone is a big difference between myself and Marcinko. When he wanted to do something in he went after it full bore and nothing would get in his way; including regulations and/or his chain of command. In fact, his utter disregard for his chain of command turned out to be his downfall.

This book was full of hoorah stories that really pumped me up and, quite honestly, inspired me to be a bit more kickass myself. Mr. Marcinko really does have something postive to teach everyone even if his approach to doing it may turn off many readers. He writes much as he talks; like a sailor so if rough language is a problem for you get over it. He worked in a world where death was a constant possibility; a few fucks scattered around really isn't too bad in comparision. No matter your background you should read this book simply to experience the raw power of a personality as strong as Marcinkos.

As bad ass as he came across he is also extremely selfish and, at times, deluded into thinking everything that happened to him, or his troops, was someone else's fault. First and foremost he was a horrendous husband. He sort of admits to it but at the same time he also doesn't seem to have any remorse for his overall neglect of his family. In fact, he seems proud of it. He also tended to act with his own sense of glory in mind rather than the welfare of his troops. Now, it may be that this is just a part of the SEAL psyche I can't understand; but, when his decisions as a leader led to his troops being in unnecessary and extreme harms way he just blames others for not supporting him. He never seems to realize it was his decision that put his boys up against 100 north Vietnamese on the night of the Tet Offensive for example. Instead he blames an incompetent and drunk Special Forces commander.

Marcinko does give good credit where it is due however and he frequently cites soldiers he served with who helped him or made him a better soldier. However, no matter how much those other guys tried to teach him there were some things, like tact, that Marcinko never learned; and it was this lack of tact; along with his disregard for the chain of command, that ultimately killed his career.

A prime example of his lack of tact comes late in the book when he is leading the super secret, bad ass team called Red Cell. These guys have what, to me, seems like the greatest job on earth. They are tasked with testing and breaking the security of naval installations around the world so that those bases can learn and improve. However, in his reports to the base commander's Marcinko doesn't care how he tells the commander that his post is screwed. Instead he just slams the guy regardless of the ego he is dealing with. I would think that in 30 years of naval service he would have learned he wasn't the only proud sailor around. I'm not saying that he should have softened his message but he certainly could have delivered them in a much more convincing manner. Instead he was an ass.

The ends may justify the means; but by delivering his message like a jerk he hurt not only himself but he undermined Red Cell's mission. Sure, the base's security flaws were illuminated but they certainly weren't addressed because the post commander had his feathers ruffled and he would turtle up and attack Marcinko instead of accepting the evaluation as a critique of the post and not of the commander. I don't know if I could have handled it any better but, considering the job he had, I certainly would have tried.

In the end Marcinko was still an excellent soldier who did his job, taking out the enemy, well and I'm going to try to take away some of his strengths from reading it. From now on, when I'm faced with a difficult obstacle that I think is too great to overcome, I might even ask myself, "What would Marcinko Do" - then I'll run through the damn thing and kick it's ass.

Even with all his failings and the books often awkward writing I enjoyed it and give it a 3.5 out of 5 star review. ( )
1 vote finalcut | Apr 2, 2013 |
Wow!

The book is hard to put down simply because you end up needing to know what Richard is going to be doing next. Rogue Warrior is more than just a title. It describes him perfectly and without giving away the ending, the consequences unfortunately catch up to him, although unjustly.

Here is that quintessential story of the government creating something and then realizing it may be harder to control than they had envisioned. The tales weaved throughout this book will leave you breathless with the danger and risks these men take to protect our freedoms.

It is written openly and from the heart. By the last page you feel that Dick is a friend, a buddy you could meet in one of those Norfolk hangouts to share a beer or two – but of course leaving before the fight breaks out.

Not for the squeamish, but a MUST read for any fan of military history and especially SEAL lore. ( )
  Sturgeon | May 5, 2010 |
Interesting, fun, readable. Warning about the prolific cursing if it bothers you. ( )
  Darla | Dec 12, 2008 |
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It's not the critic who counts... The credit belongs to the man who actually is in the arena, who strives violently, who errs and comes up short again and again... who if he wins, knows the triumph of high achievement, but who if he fails, fails while daring greatly.
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To the shooters -

who have been,

and always will be
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Richard Marcinko was the U.S. Navy's most unconventional warrior -- and its most deadly. A master practitioner of the, "Let's Do It to Them Before They Do It to Us," school of survival, he was often as feared by his own high command as by the enemy.This brilliant, tough-as-nails military virtuoso of violence -- ambushes, booby, traps, exotic weaponry, high altitude parachute drops, underwater infiltrations, face-to-face killing -- rose through Navy ranks to create and command one of this country's most elite and secretive counterterrorist units, SEAL TEAM SIX. Now, in his own colorful voice, this thirty-year veteran recounts the story of the secret missions and Special Warfare madness that make up his harrowing worldwide military career. Here, too, he opens doors that have long been locked, the riveting truth about the mystery-shrouded Navy SEALS, what went on behind the scenes during the infamous Desert One hostage rescue attempt in Iran, and the stunning inside realities of the Granada invasion. Born on Thanksgiving Day, 1940, Dick Marcinko was raised in mining towns, housing projects, blue-collar bars, and on the streets. He quit school at seventeen and enlisted in a new life of thrill-seeking. He joined the Navy's Underwater Demolition Teams, which he calls "a masochist's dream." Then he attended over eighteen special-training schools, where he excelled in the lethal, survival and leadership skills that would gain him entrance into the upper strata of military warfare, the SEALS. Marcinko was almost inhumanly tough, and proved it on hair-raising missions across Vietnam and a war-torn world, blowing up supply junks, charging through minefields, jumping at 19,000 feet with a chute that wouldn't open, fighting hand-to-hand in a hellhole jungle, and experiencing the tragedy of watching a buddy die in his arms. He was such a threatening force on the killing fields of Vietnam that the enemy posted a reward for his death. For the Pentagon, Marcinko organized the Navy's first counterterrorist unit, the legendary SEAL TEAM SIX. One of the most feared weapons against terrorism in the world, the Team went on classified missions from Central America to the Middle East, the North Sea, Africa and beyond. Out of this success, Marcinko was tapped to create the explosive unit know as Red Cell, a dirty-dozen team of the military's most accomplished and decorated counterterrorists. Their unbelievable job was to become terrorists themselves -- to test the defense of the Navy's most secure facilities and installations. The Navy was actually going to pay go-for-broke Marcinko to wreak havoc. The result was predictable, all hell broke loose. In Rogue Warrior, Marcinko recounts his searing adventures in the special branches of the military reserved for a handpicked few. Here is the hard-working hero . . . the killer who saw beyond the blood to ultimate justice . . . and the decorated warrior who became such a maverick that the Navy brass wanted his head on a pole, and for a time, got it. This, and more, is Marcinko, a man made for war.

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