Fidel Castro may be on his deathbed, but he's still scheming against the U.S. in Richard Marcinko and Jim DeFelice's The Rogue Warrior
When Marcinko's "friend," the head of the CIA, asks him to spend a little quality time in Cuba, the Rogue Warrior finds there's no way to say no. Once there, Marcinko and company discover that Fidel Castro is on his deathbed. Which wouldn't be so bad, except that he's planned a catastrophic surprise for the U.S. as his going-away present. The Rogue Warrior must find out the nature of that little surprise and thwart it before Castro kicks the bucket.
At the Publisher's request, this title is being sold without Digital Rights Management Software (DRM) applied.
Fidel Castro may be on his deathbed, but he's still scheming against the U.S. in Richard Marcinko and Jim DeFelice's The Rogue Warrior
When Marcinko's "friend," the head of the CIA, asks him to spend a little quality time in Cuba, the Rogue Warrior finds there's no way to say no. Once there, Marcinko and company discover that Fidel Castro is on his deathbed. Which wouldn't be so bad, except that he's planned a catastrophic surprise for the U.S. as his going-away present. The Rogue Warrior must find out the nature of that little surprise and thwart it before Castro kicks the bucket.
At the Publisher's request, this title is being sold without Digital Rights Management Software (DRM) applied.
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Overview
Fidel Castro may be on his deathbed, but he's still scheming against the U.S. in Richard Marcinko and Jim DeFelice's The Rogue Warrior
When Marcinko's "friend," the head of the CIA, asks him to spend a little quality time in Cuba, the Rogue Warrior finds there's no way to say no. Once there, Marcinko and company discover that Fidel Castro is on his deathbed. Which wouldn't be so bad, except that he's planned a catastrophic surprise for the U.S. as his going-away present. The Rogue Warrior must find out the nature of that little surprise and thwart it before Castro kicks the bucket.
At the Publisher's request, this title is being sold without Digital Rights Management Software (DRM) applied.
Product Details
ISBN-13: | 9781429981071 |
---|---|
Publisher: | Tor Publishing Group |
Publication date: | 10/13/2009 |
Series: | Rogue Warrior Series , #14 |
Sold by: | Macmillan |
Format: | eBook |
Pages: | 416 |
Sales rank: | 437,166 |
File size: | 594 KB |
About the Author
![About The Author](http://img.images-bn.com/static/redesign/srcs/images/grey-box.png?v11.11.4)
Richard Marcinko (1940-2021) was the #1 New York Times bestselling author of Rogue Warrior, his autobiography covering his honored military career. Joining the U. S. Navy at eighteen he served two tours in Vietnam as a member of SEAL Team 2, eventually leading them as a lieutenant commander. He later founded and commanded SEAL Team 6, the Navy’s anti-terrorist group, and Red Cell, a high-level anti-terrorist unit.
A highly decorated soldier, Marcinko was awarded the Silver Star and four Bronze Stars for valor, a Vietnamese Cross of Gallantry, and two Navy Commendation Medals among others. His military actions served as the basis for his New York Times bestselling series of Rogue Warrior novels including Curse of the Infidel, Blood Lies, and Domino Theory.
Best known for American Sniper, Jim DeFelice is the author of more than a dozen New York Times bestsellers and a host of other books, many of them celebrating the lives of unsung American heroes. His standalone novels include Leopard’s Kill and The Helios Conspiracy, and he has collaborated with other bestselling authors including Stephen Coonts and Larry Bond.
Richard Marcinko (1940-2021) was the #1 New York Times bestselling author of Rogue Warrior, his autobiography covering his honored military career. Joining the U. S. Navy at eighteen he served two tours in Vietnam as a member of SEAL Team 2, eventually leading them as a lieutenant commander. He later founded and commanded SEAL Team 6, the Navy’s anti-terrorist group, and Red Cell, a high-level anti-terrorist unit.
A highly decorated soldier, Marcinko was awarded the Silver Star and four Bronze Stars for valor, a Vietnamese Cross of Gallantry, and two Navy Commendation Medals among others. His military actions served as the basis for his New York Times bestselling series of Rogue Warrior novels including Curse of the Infidel, Blood Lies, and Domino Theory.
JIM DeFELICE is the co-author of Chris Kyle’s #1 New York Times bestseller American Sniper and many other New York Times bestsellers.
Read an Excerpt
Rogue Warrior: Seize the Day
By Richard Marcinko, Jim DeFelice
Tom Doherty Associates
Copyright © 2009 Richard Marcinko and Jim DeFeliceAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4299-8107-1
CHAPTER 1
People always say it's who you know that matters.
Let me tell you, children, it's not who you know, it's who you look like.
This is especially important when you're on the roof of the tallest building on the Havana shoreline, hanging off the side by your fingernails while half the Cuban army points AK47s at you.
But we should start at the beginning.
The whys and wherefores of my arrival in Cuba would fill a few hundred pages, and just as surely cure the worst insomnia known to mankind. So let's cut through the bullshit and go to the executive version.
A recent vacation in sunny North Korea had left me so refreshed that I found myself locked away in a hospital ward, in traction and in a foul mood. Unable to spring me, my main squeeze Karen Fairchild nonetheless undertook to nurse me back to health, smuggling in copious amounts of Bombay Sapphire. Thanks to the care of Dr. Bombay, I rallied and managed to leave the hospital before the billing department figured out how to spell my last name.
Karen and I planned a nice Caribbean vacation in celebration. My friend Ken Jones at the CIA had other ideas.
Ken is a former admiral who defected to the Christians in Action, the government agency known to the incredulous as the Central Intelligence Agency. In my experience, it's neither central nor intelligent, though I have to admit that I've never looked to the government to be accurate in anything, let alone naming its various parts.
Ken is the agency's DCI, an abbreviation that I believe stands for director of the Can't-Cunt Inquisitors, though most people who haven't dealt with him say it means director of the CIA.
Ken called me the day I got home from the hospital and asked how I was.
"Admiral, fuck you very much for calling," I said in my pleasant voice. "Doctors say I'm contagious and can't see anyone from the government for at least a decade."
"You're a card, Dick. Let's have a drink."
"Sorry, but I've got a lot of other things to do."
"I was thinking the same thing when the invoice from Red Cell International hit my desk."
It was just like the admiral to bring up money. Red Cell International is my corporate umbrella, the security company that conducts various rogue and not-so-rogue activities across the globe. The CIA owed Red Cell a considerable amount of dough-re-me, including the not insignificant expenses we'd incurred in North Korea. Cash flow being what it was, even a short delay in paying the bills would be a problem: my accountant has three kids in college, and their tuition bills were due.
"You're not trying to blackmail me, are you, Admiral?" I asked.
"Dick, I wouldn't do that. But I do have a lot of work to do. A lot on my plate, so to speak. You could lighten that load with a little favor. A tiny one, actually."
The smaller the favor, the bigger the problem. But Ken wouldn't take no for an answer, and a few hours later I found myself sipping gin with him at his favorite little bar outside of Langley.
Ken stuck to lite beer, a sure sign of trouble.
It took two rounds before he got to the point, reaching into his jacket pocket for a pair of photos that he laid on the table. One was a recent picture of yours truly snapped somewhere in what we used to call the Mysterious Orient before we all got PC religion and switched to more acceptable terms like "the asshole pit of Asia." Shot somewhere in Pyongyang, the North Korean capital, the picture showed me with my beard more kempt than normal, though from the glint in my eye I knew I must have been enjoying myself, probably by planning what I would do to one of my government escorts when I didn't have to be polite anymore.
The other photo showed me in a more relaxed moment: face flushed, eyes bugging out, teeth poised for blood. It would have made a lovely yearbook shot.
Except it wasn't me. Ken reached into his jacket for another shot, showing me that it was actually an enlargement from a group photo. The group shot revealed that the florid face belonged to a man who favored starched puke-green fatigues, a clothing choice that has never agreed with me.
"Recognize him?" asked Ken.
"We were separated at birth," I said, handing the photos back. "After the doctor dropped him on his head."
The great thing about Ken is that he has exactly no sense of humor, and it took him quite a while to figure out if I was joking or not. Which was my cue to leave, though I didn't take it.
The man in the photo was Fidel Alejandro Castro Ruz, dictator par deviance of Cuba. At the time, he was said to be ailing, though a dictator's health is never something you can count on. The favor Ken wanted was deceptively simple, as they always are: impersonate Fidel on a special tape el Presidente was leaving as his last will and testament. I didn't even have to talk — the words had been carefully spliced together by the CIA's technical dweebs. All I had to do was look menacing and pretend to rant for the camera.
"Do what comes naturally," said Ken. "Pretend you're talking to our accounting division about where your check is."
I suppose before going any further I should mention that I've had a warm spot in my heart and other body parts for the Cuban people. Most Cubans I know are expatriates, but I think even those still on the island are, as a general rule, happy, loving people who make loyal and open friends. They're certainly warm and gracious to strangers. The women are pretty, for sure; they're rarely demanding and are grateful for small favors and a little bit of attention.
In my experience, of course.
Fidel ... Well, maybe at one time his heart was in the right place, but his brain and ass just couldn't provide. After he took power, rats replaced the chickens in every pot. Anyone who opposed him was imprisoned, tortured, and worse.
Before this op, I'd been to Cuba many times, but with one exception always to Gitmo — our base at Guantanamo. It may surprise you to know that a good number of Cubans work there. They were "shaken down" every night when they crossed back to go home — the government was anxious for any tiny rewards they might have reaped. Kind of a shame to watch.
The one exception I mentioned was a short stay in Havana. And then, of course ... well, let's not get too far ahead of ourselves.
* * *
I taped the bit a few days after talking to Ken, reporting at 0600 to what looked like an abandoned warehouse building in northeastern Virginia. I took two of my associates with me — Trace Dahlgren and Matthew "Junior" Loring. Junior's one of our technical experts, and was along to help me pick out some gear from a vendor we use who happens to be located a few miles from the taping site. Trace was along allegedly to help make sure we got the right stuff, but really to make faces at me while I was taping.
We were met at the door by a little old gray-haired man wearing a barber's smock. He smiled when he saw me, nodded to himself, then led me across the dimly lit foyer to a thick steel door. Beyond the door was a studio that would make the folks at the Today show jealous. The dressing room was twice the size of my office, with thick wood paneling, a pair of overstuffed leather couches, another half-dozen chairs of various but expensive description, and — especially important to Junior and Trace — a table laden with a variety of breakfast goodies.
"What, no omelet station?" snarked Trace.
"Scrambled eggs here," said the barber, showing her the tray. "If that's not all right —"
"It's more than all right," I said. "Pay no attention to her. She has PNS."
(No, it's not a typo — Permanent Nasty Syndrome.)
Trace gave me a scowl, then started force-feeding Junior donuts in an attempt to add a little weight to his scarecrowlike frame. I left them to divvy up the goodies while I donned a slightly wrinkled set of green army fatigues for my star turn. After that, the barber took me next door to a room that looked like a 1950s version of the perfect barbershop. A makeup artist — thirty-something, blond, neck with the scent of ripe strawberries — stood next to a counter that looked to contain every cosmetic product known to woman.
"Sit, sit," the barber told me. "You are a very good likeness. You're not related, no?"
"To Fidel?"
"A good thing." The barber flipped on the television on the counter. Fidel's face filled the screen. I studied his mannerisms, watching the way he furled his eyebrows and puffed out his cheeks as he ranted about bourgeoisie Yankees trying to impose democracy on the world.
Meanwhile, the barber went to work, trimming my hair and dying it gray. One thing Ken hadn't made clear: I had to give my ponytail for my country. Seeing as how I've sacrificed just about every other part of my body, I suppose losing a little hair was no big deal.
When the barber was done, the makeup artist daubed a little bit of makeup around my eyes, adding some aging lines and liver spots. She worked for about fifteen minutes, fussing like Michelangelo finishing the Sistine Chapel.
When I looked over at the barber, he was frowning.
"You look too much like him, senor." He glanced at his razor on the counter. "If I did not know any better, I would take the razor and ..."
The barber's name was Roberto Traba. He'd escaped from Cuba barely two years before, fleeing with his two grandchildren. He had done this even though he had an excellent job, or I should say because he had an excellent job — he'd been one of Fidel's barbers.
Traba had worked for years in a small shop at the western edge of Havana, well liked by his customers but unknown to the world at large. One day, El Comandante en Jefe — Fidel — decided he wanted his hair cut. His regular barber was sick, his backup at the wedding of a daughter.
Fidel's hair couldn't wait. One of his aides had heard of Traba ... a bodyguard was sent to the shop, where a dozen customers were sitting, discussing the chances of the local baseball team in the island playoffs while Traba worked. The bodyguard hung a CLOSED sign in the window, shooed the half-finished customer from the chair, and brought Traba to the dictator's house a few miles away.
Traba did his work quickly and efficiently. The dictator liked him, and a few weeks later he was called back for a trim. From that point on, he worked for Fidel every other week.
Without pay, of course. For a barber should be happy to be in the presence of the world's greatest man, and not worry about the revenue he missed by having to close his shop in the middle of the week.
Had the arrangement remained the same, Traba would not have minded it very much. True, after a while the honor of being so close to the country's leader grew stale, and he had to listen to el Jefe's endless rants on everything from Yankee imperialism to the poor hitting of the Cuban national baseball team. But resigning such a post was not easy, and Traba would never have seriously considered doing so had the head barber not met with an untimely accident.
An accident in the home, the day after Fidel had railed about being nicked by the barber's careless razor.
The accident involved a loaded gun. Traba knew the head barber well enough to know that the man had an unnatural fear of heights, tight spaces, and guns, and would have nothing to do with any of them. What was especially curious was the fact that the previous head barber had met with a similar accident.
Traba was promoted to head barber on a Tuesday. On Wednesday, he began to look for a way to escape Cuba.
It was not simply a case of self-preservation. Three years before, his daughter had died; he and his wife had taken her two babies, aged one and three at the time. Traba's wife had passed away the following year, and now he was the girls' sole guardian.
Traba tried in vain for months to find a way to leave. He sought out boat owners, spoke to shady men who promised to get him a European passport, even studied a translation of Mark Twain's Huck Finn for information on how to build a raft. Then fate dropped opportunity in his lap: Fidel planned a visit to the Dominican Republic, and wanted his barber to accompany him.
Traba suggested that he go ahead of time, to survey the facilities at the television station where Fidel was to appear. Fidel agreed. The barber asked a favor — could he bring his granddaughters? It might be very educational for them.
Fidel waved his hand, signifying yes. Still, it took two weeks to win official approval from the bureaucrats, securing the places on the plane. Traba put the time to good use, calling in every favor and every hint of a favor he had ever earned in his forty-some years of cutting hair. Within two hours of landing in the Dominican, he and his granddaughters were in a boat halfway to Puerto Rico.
"I am very lucky," Traba told me. "I am sure that now I would be dead, and my grandchildren orphans."
"How are the kids now?"
"The best students. The best. I have only one regret ..."
"What's that?" asked Trace.
"My brother is still in Cuba," said the barber. "They have made things very hard for him."
"They put him in jail?" asked Junior.
"No. That far, they haven't gone. They would not, I don't think, so long as he doesn't break the law. But they might as well have. In some ways, it is worse."
Traba's brother had been a baker in Havana. His job had been taken from him, and his apartment; he now lived in a small village on the south side of the island, alone. It was exceedingly difficult for Traba to contact him. Practically no one he knew in Cuba would risk carrying a message, because to do so risked angering the authorities.
"It could be worse. He could be in the mountains." Traba shook his head. "But he can't find work. Of course not. The government keeps tabs on him. The security police tell everyone not to be friends. It is a sad story."
"Why don't you get him out?" asked Junior.
Traba gave him a sad look, the sort of smile an older man gives a much younger one when he still has many painful lessons to learn.
"To get someone out of Cuba, especially one who's watched. Not easy."
Junior looked over at me, and I knew exactly what he was thinking. It was the same thing Trace was thinking. She started pumping Traba for more information about his brother, where he lived, and whether he truly wanted to get off the island.
"Are you asking these questions for a reason?" the barber said finally. "Are you in a position to help him?"
"No," I said. "She isn't. And neither am I."
Trace's eyes practically burned a hole in the side of my skull.
"That's OK," said Traba, with the barest hint of disappointment. He undid the sheet covering my clothes, snapping it in the air as he took it away. "If ever I can do anything for you, call this number," he added, slipping me his business card.
I frowned, furrowing my eyebrows as I'd seen Fidel do in the tape. "Gracias."
Traba looked for a moment as if he'd seen a ghost.
"Too much like him," he said, shaking his head. "Too much."
I played Dictator Karaoke for an hour, and we were done. Traba and the makeup artist were gone when the shooting was over; I cleaned up my face, but left the gray highlights in my hair — it's always nice to see the future.
"We really should figure a way to help out Mr. Traba," said Junior as we headed toward the highway. "His brother's kinda screwed."
"Not kinda. Is," said Trace.
"Tell you what, next time you're in Cuba, you can look him up," I said.
"How about you smuggle him out?" asked Junior. "It'd be pretty easy for you."
"I'm not going to Cuba," I told him.
Junior looked like a puppy who's just been told not to pee on his water dish.
"We can't rescue every person living in Cuba," I told him.
"I wasn't talking about every person in Cuba, just the old dude's brother."
"If we were going to Cuba," said Trace, "it wouldn't be a bad idea."
"But we're not going to Cuba."
The video I'd made was pressed onto a pair of DVD discs. These were supposed to be smuggled into Cuba, where another courier would take them to yet another operative; none of the transporters would know what they were taking.
The smuggler was a Spanish businessman who had a well-paying sideline as a paid CIA agent. The only problem was that he had another sideline as an informant for the Cuban government — something the CIA discovered roughly twelve hours before he was supposed to pick up the discs.
The Christians in Action have never been very good at dealing with a curveball, but in this case they had a backup plan, and a backup to that, and even a backup to that.
Backup plan number two fizzled when the courier, a Canadian national, got cold feet. So the Christians went to door number three, tapping a Dominican national who'd done various odd jobs for them in the past. He was all set to pick up the discs until he got arrested and thrown in jail.
Which is what tends to happen to drug smugglers.
The CIA would have gladly sprung him from an American jail. But he was arrested in Saba, an island that is part of the Netherlands Antilles and thus under Dutch control. And while the Dutch tend to take a relatively lax view about illegal drug smuggling — even several tons of it, concealed among semifresh flowers shipped out of Colombia — they weren't willing to turn a blind eye to the fact that he had killed two Dutch police agents while resisting arrest.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Rogue Warrior: Seize the Day by Richard Marcinko, Jim DeFelice. Copyright © 2009 Richard Marcinko and Jim DeFelice. Excerpted by permission of Tom Doherty Associates.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
What People are Saying About This
Dick Marcinko is the real McCoy, a warrior who has lived it.
Interviews
On Tuesday, June 15th, barnesandnoble.com welcomed Richard Marcinko to discuss THE REAL TEAM: ROGUE WARRIOR.
Moderator: Welcome, Richard Marcinko! Thank you for joining us online this afternoon. How are you today?
Richard Marcinko: Today I am in downtown Tallahassee.
Dale from Williamsburg: What inspired you to write THE REAL TEAM?
Richard Marcinko: Fans who wanted to know how to pick a team and maintain a team; and in the novels there was no time to build the characters of the team members who worked with me, like Stevie Wonder and Nicky Grundle.
Mark from Indiana: I understand that this book is different than your others in that we meet the SEAL team members up close now. Is this right? Who are the members?
Richard Marcinko: Yes. The members are Stevie Wonder, Nicky Grundle, Duckfoot, Prince Valiant, Indian Jew, Cyclops, Bullethead, Doc Tremblay.
Marcus from Texas: You have a really great beard. I heard that in the military they won't let you grow beards. Is this true? How long have you had your beard?
Richard Marcinko: I had it in the military under a rule called "modified grooming standards." I have had my beard since 1990.
Mrs. B from Wisconsin: Mr. Marcinko, your books have opened my eyes to a lot of things I had no idea about. Because of reading them, I have discovered a web site and made many new friends, including a Mr. "Hoot" Andrews and some of your other old acquaintances. Thanks for writing the books and having a part in my finding these new friends. And I look forward to seeing you at the picnic in August.
Richard Marcinko: Okay! I will be there, I guess.
pac87@aol.com from xx: I read in a chat that Jesse Ventura is a big fan of your novels. Are you a fan of his politics?
Richard Marcinko: That is correct. Somewhere between yes and hell yes!
Scott from Littleton: What was the most rewarding aspect of being a Navy SEAL?
Richard Marcinko: Going to war with the men.
Mike Pruitt from Glencoe, AL: Hi, big guy. When are you going to make a movie based on your books?
Richard Marcinko: There is a contract with Hollywood Pictures. Jerry Bruckheimer is the producer. On its eighth or ninth writer. Must be done by October 2000.
Dave from Brooklyn: Who was your biggest influence in life?
Richard Marcinko: Chief Barrett. he is in the book, so you can read about him.
Lance from Petersburg: What does it take to be a Navy SEAL today? What type of person would you recommend it to?
Richard Marcinko: Athletic, smart, motivated, and requiring challenge.
Clark from Detroit: What is your own personal motto?
Richard Marcinko: If I had one it would be: Kick ass, take names.
Geoff from Indianapolis: Mr. Marcinko, just wanted to thank you for many hours of great reading -- I look forward to enjoying your new book. Any chance of you being in Indianapolis anytime?
Richard Marcinko: Yes, building a training center at Freedom, Indiana, on 900 acres. Stevie Wonder is already there working on the center. It should open for its first class April 15 or 16, 2000. Web site will be up advertising it at Thanksgiving of this year. It is called Crossroads Training and Development Center.
Paul from Morris Plains, NJ: What character do you see Richard Marcinko in the most?
Richard Marcinko: Stevie Wonder.
Trent from Hanover: What is the most popular weapon of a Navy SEAL?
Richard Marcinko: H&K MP5. They are machine guns used by most international terrorist teams.
Tom from Lakeland: How much of what you discuss in your books is fact and how much is embellishment?
Richard Marcinko: Generally speaking, 68 percent has happened, and geographically it changes and chronologically it changes.
David Breland from McLain, MS: Mr. Marcinko, I think your books are excellent. I'm 14 and I love war, espionage, and terrorism books, and I am a military and history buff. I got started reading the Rogue Warrior books by finding ROGUE WARRIOR 2 in my house. I read straight through it; I even got it taken away for reading it. You are a great author, and I wanted to give a little hero worship to you. Thank you for your time.
Richard Marcinko: Thank you for reading.
Chris from Willmar: Do you plan to continue writing after your contract ends?
Richard Marcinko: Yes, that is correct.
Walter Wilder from Wewahitchka, Fl: Is the recent documentary regarding SEAL training that was aired on the Discovery Channel accurate?
Richard Marcinko: I haven't seen it totally, but my guess is yes. Footnote: The History Channel will air "The History of SEALs" in October, but I don't have the date yet.
Fred Knoll from Nashville, TN: Semper Fi Richard! What books do you enjoy reading? Do you read a lot of fiction? Also, do you ever listen to tunes when you write?
Richard Marcinko: No time to read other than news magazines, trade magazines, and novels sent by the publisher. I have three with me today -- one is the new Clive Cussler book, SERPENT. I do listen to tunes -- classical, light jazz, and Buddhist chants. There are CDs out by Buddist monks with multiple octaves in their voices.
Chris Brenckman from Willmar, MN: Hey, Uncle Dicky, I am 18 and just graduated from high school. I am trying to decide what I want to do and figure out who I am. What advice can you give me? Mr. Marcinko for president!
Richard Marcinko: That is a good one! King Richard has a better ring. If not college, join the service, learn a trade, and find out things that you don't want to do, which are just as important as what you want to do.
Mike from Annapolis, MD: What do you do to keep mentally and physically in shape?
Richard Marcinko: Mentally, I keep working, and physically, I have a "honey-do" list at the Rogue Manor and a 16-month-old boy whom I am raising in the woods.
Mrs. B from Wisconsin: Are you coming to Wisconsin to make any appearances soon?
Richard Marcinko: Not that I know of. I am on tour, and I don't have any speeches up there. Unfortunately I am now in the southern U.S., and then up the East Coast. I am done with your loop.
David from McLain, MS: Was Manny Tanto made up from a person or persons you've met?
Richard Marcinko: A person. He now lives in Saudi Arabia, and he ain't never comin' home.
Chris from Willmar: What do you enjoy doing in your free time?
Richard Marcinko: What free time? I actually have no hobbies. I work out, play with the baby, split wood -- we have six fireplaces (we have heat too, but fireplaces work better), and I have eight cars to maintain and use them all. I do the simple things on them: oil changes, change the tires -- play stuff.
Keith from Seattle: When do you plan to write another Leadership Secrets book?
Richard Marcinko: When the fans ask me. When I get responses to this book of what else they want.
Mrs. B from Wisconsin: The History Channel special is October 1st, from 8 to 10pm ET.
Richard Marcinko: Yes, that is the one!
Mark from Pittsburgh, PA: With the recent outbreak in teen violence and the tragedy in Littleton, Colorado -- as a former Navy SEAL, what do you think are some realistic solutions in terms of gun control? Are we doing enough or do we need to do more? How can we keep guns out of more kids' hands?
Richard Marcinko: An armed society is a polite society. Get parents back in charge of their children, and we will know where the children are and what they are doing. Guns are not the issue.
Taylor from Westchester: Were the SEALs called upon in the Kosovo crisis? Do you know fellow SEALs who were sent on special missions?
Richard Marcinko: Anything I know is unofficial, but they are in Albania and they do patrol, and at night it is hard to see the red line of the border.
Bob from Cherry Point, NC: Whom does Richard Marcinko respect?
Richard Marcinko: [laughs] Rob Boehm, that is my C-Daddy and the author of a book called FIRST SEAL.
Tom from Lakeland: Have you learned to appreciate hops and barley, or are you still a Bombay gin man?
Richard Marcinko: Bombay Sapphire, 94 proof, on the rocks and naked.
Bishop from Texas: What would be your solution to safeguard this country against terrorism?
Richard Marcinko: Use our present laws, which state that we can attack them to protect U.S. citizens or assets. Get them at home before they get us.
Dee from Florida: Is it your opinion that the Navy SEALs are the best-trained and most effective military unit in the world? If not, who is?
Richard Marcinko: Let's just call them one of the best trained. Also great are the old Soviet Spetnaz, Israeli Raiders, German GSG9, French GIGN, British SAS and SBS. That should give you the flavor.
Marcus from San Francisco: How is a team member selected? What types of things do they have to do to make the cut?
Richard Marcinko: Volunteer for BUD-S (Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL) training, graduate, get to an operational team, and continue to develop tactical expertise. Selection is based on skill level and mission requirements.
Seth from New York: Hi, Demo -- I really enjoy your books, and they have certainly inspired me. In the recent Discovery Channel show on SEALs, they discussed SEALs being used to counter drug trafficking into the U.S. Shouldn't this fall under the jurisdiction of another government agency and not the Navy?
Richard Marcinko: There are more of them than us. Any help for our society is good. SEALs are limited by a law called Posse Comitas, which limits military action in domestic civilian affairs. Training and police surveying drug activity aren't helping the problem.
Ollie from Richmond: Do you have plans for another Rogue Warrior book? When? Give us a sneak peek.
Richard Marcinko: Release date is January or February, 2000. The title is PLATOON GOLF, and it is done. More kick ass. Can't say more.
Moderator: How will you celebrate New Year's Eve 1999? Any special plans?
Richard Marcinko: As always, I will be at the Rogue Manor in control of my environment. Not worried about Y2K or anything else. Translation: We don't go anywhere on New Year's Eve, we have fireworks and friends and lock ourselves there.
Dan from Chicago: Can you share with us your "near death" combat experience? When you almost met your maker?
Richard Marcinko: No, I was too busy. It is the truth. When you are near life-and-death, you are very busy surviving. The realization of the nearness of death is not realized until it is over and you sit down with a cold beer or Bombay.
Moderator: Thank you, Richard Marcinko! Best of luck with THE REAL TEAM: ROGUE WARRIOR. Before you leave, do you have any parting comments for the online audience?
Richard Marcinko: Thanks for your support. Books will continue to come, and I will stay on the road to meet all the fans.