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“The Stan by Dan Talley is a soul-searing memoir….they give chapter and verse detail of the trauma of combat, its aftermath, and the real cost of it to those in uniform and loved ones at home. Those who have experienced what the Talleys have will understand. Those who have not will find in The Stan a powerful work to help bridge that gulf.” The Stan by Dan Talley 208 Dan Talley The Stan Dan Talley is a veteran of a 26 year marriage, 28 year military career and 3 wars. The Stan shares private thoughts, journal entries, therapy sessions and memories of his family of 4 as father and son deploy to combat. “I’m not a writer...as an NCO I’m a storyteller.” - Dan Talley on becoming an author “I cuss too much for the Christians and I’m too Christian for the cussers.” Dan Talley on getting his book published Dan Talley The Stan Thursday, mid-August 2010 0430: Matthew's praise before our route clearance mission and back to our forward operating base. We have been away from home for seven days. In a week we got three IED’s, an ambush and three days in Sharan’s transient tents for vehicle repairs. Today we head north, back to the PF Province. My son Josh’s platoon, they are south as we meticulously are moving north. I am a platoon sergeant, while Josh, my son, is a driver today. Our 0500 morning patrol ensures we miss civilian city traffic. It has been a long uneventful day as we close on Josh’s platoon at 1630. Vic’s bounce and rock through old IED holes. The sunset begins to our west and mountains are visible 50 clicks to our east. Wind carries dust clouds we stir up westward, interrupting the sunbeams’ journey to our path home. I see Josh’s platoon icon on my computer screen but we cannot yet reach them on radio frequencies. Another quiet afternoon clearing roads and easing through crater after crater, some we remember and some we do not. Back home, Karen, my wife is getting ready. Charlotte’s out of bed now and maybe I can call them tomorrow. “There it go!” my gunner yells. His matter of fact clarification is simply, ‘blast, North’. A surreal second later, Rollins, my main Vic operator says, “one nine smoke cloud North.” I radio, “Husky one this is one nine, roger, we see it.” Our Husky operators search mark until we can tell the Buffalo operator where to terrigrate for possible IED’s. “One nine, this is one two alpha, want us to lead us out and get us up there, over?” Negative one two alpha, break husky one husky two, get us up there clear as you go, don’t get us blown the hell up, over.” “Husky one, roger.” “Husky two, roger.” We still have no radio coms with our brothers. I get a text report of small arms fire, RPG’s and indirect fire. U-shaped ambushes from behind are common. We had one here last week moving out. We charlie miked North as our sister platoon responds to today’s aggression. “Who got hit,” I wonder. A poke of a 137 vehicle icon on my screen will display the corresponding Vic’s status. Smith’s icon, their platoon sergeant, a popup opens and his speed reads 5 km/hour. I close his popup and open the next in line. It reads 7 km/hour. That’s Donner, he’s moving. Wait, rear ambush, check the trail vic dumbass. A spark in my peripheral vision, I glance at Miller, he looks at me, he lights a smoke. Neither he nor I speak, I go back to my screen. Miller says, “Your son out today?” “Roger, he’s driving TOP.” “TOP’s out! What the hell!” “He’s filling in for LT Martin, who is on leave.” I click another icon, Smith’s rear Vic, Duke is rolling. Shit! Who the hell go hit? Smoke ejects with Miller’s every word, passes his steering wheel to cover our windshield in a gloomy fog. “We need to get up there Sarge.” I poke another icon. One more data popup opens, this icon’s velocity caption reads 0.00 km/hour. “First one at a halt,” I think. It’s got to be the one that got hit. Sergeant Sanderford we’ve got to roll Miller says. RC my gunner shifts his feet on his gunner platform. “Get my ass up there, let me get some!