NCIS HAWAII: The Captain

Chapter 47: A Legend Has Fallen

It was February 2, 2013, a date that would forever be etched in Scott's memory. He was at the DEVGRU base in Virginia Beach when he heard the first news. Chris Kyle, known as "The Legend" for his exploits during the Iraq War, had been murdered by a veteran suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). The news came from a fellow SEAL who entered the room, his face pale.

"Scott, did you see this?" Echo 3 asked, holding up his cell phone with the news open.

Scott frowned and picked up the device. As he read it, his chest felt heavy. He leaned back in his chair, staring at the floor for a moment, absorbing the loss. Chris was not only a legendary figure among the SEALs; he was also a man of many years. He was someone Scott had worked with briefly years ago in Ramadi, when he was leading a team in SEAL Team 3. Scott remembered the first time he saw Chris Kyle in action.

It was 2006, and Ramadi was burning. The teams led by Jocko Willink were working on coordinated operations to dismantle insurgents, and Chris was always there, his gaze focused and his aim impeccable. He was a true protector, ensuring that the operators on the ground had constant and accurate cover.

"'Devil of Ramadi...'" Scott muttered to himself, as the memory of Chris's smile between missions flashed through his mind.

The news spread like wildfire through the ranks of the operators. In the hallways of the base, Chris's death was the only talk. There was disbelief and anger in the air.

"'How could this happen? After everything he's been through, to die like this?'" Echo 5 said, slamming his hand on the table.

Scott, ever the calm leader, put a hand on his comrade's shoulder. — "He didn't deserve this, but that's how it happened. What we can do now is honor him in the best way possible."

That same night, Scott made a decision. He would be in Texas for the funeral. It was the least he could do for a man who had given so much to his country and to the SEAL brotherhood.

Scott dressed in his navy blue dress uniform with care that morning. Every detail was impeccable: the medals gleaming on his chest, the white cap positioned perfectly. He knew this moment wasn't about him, but about honoring Chris Kyle's memory.

The flight to Texas was silent. He was accompanied by a few other operators who had also served with Chris. The silence between them wasn't uncomfortable; it was a silence of respect and reflection.

When they landed, they drove straight to the football stadium where the funeral would be held. The size of the event was a testament to the impact Chris had left on the country. Thousands of people were in attendance, including veterans, friends, family, and citizens who admired him.

The stadium was packed. The American flag covered a portion of the field, while photographs of Chris Kyle from his years of service and with his family were displayed on giant screens. The flag-draped casket was in the center, surrounded by flowers.

Scott walked silently with the other SEALs, forming neat rows around the site. He glanced at Chris's widow, Taya Kyle, who sat with her two children. Her face was strong, but her eyes betrayed the deep pain of losing her husband. During the ceremony, speeches were given.

Jocko Willink took the stage and spoke in a deep, emotional voice: "

Chris was not only an exceptional warrior; he was a man of honor, loyalty, and compassion. He saved lives, both on the battlefield and off. He believed his mission did not end with his military service, and that made him even greater."

Scott felt a lump in his throat as he listened to Jocko's words. He remembered the conversations he had with Chris in Ramadi, talking about family, faith, and the future. Chris always said that his greatest pride was not in the insurgents he had taken down, but in the lives he had protected.