Epilogue: Moving On

Murphy's mission, known as Operation Red Wing, resulted in the worst loss of life for the SEALs since the program's inception in 1962. In all, 11 Navy SEALs - 8 in the helicopter, plus Axelson Deitz and Murphy - were killed.

The area where Murphy and the others perished remains one of the most lawless in the world, even though 200 troops from the 10th Mountain Division have since been stationed nearby. "We still take fire from the enemy," said Army Capt. Jim McKnight, who said in a phone interview from his outpost in Afghanistan that they had been attacked by small-arms fire earlier that day.

The lone surviving SEAL, Luttrell, returned to active duty. By mid-May, he was no longer operational. In the SEAL community, he is now referred to as "The One." He declined comment for this story, but a book about his experiences, "Lone Survivor: The Eyewitness Account of Operation Redwing and the Lost Heroes of SEAL Team 10," which he wrote with military author Patrick Robinson, is due to be published in June by Little, Brown and Co.

Luttrell's family and Robinson also declined comment. He received the Navy Cross - the Navy's highest honor - at a private Washington ceremony.

Dietz and Axelson also received the Navy Cross, posthumously, at the ceremony.

Standing in for their son, Dan and Maureen Murphy attended. But Michael Murphy did not receive the Navy Cross. The military only awards individuals one honor per war episode. Murphy's actions that day have put him in consideration for the nation's most prestigious combat award - the Medal of Honor. The medal is often bestowed on the two-year anniversary of an incident. For Lt. Michael Murphy of Patchogue, that day is June 28, 2007.

Two independent witness accounts of a deed are required before a candidate is considered for the Medal of Honor. Luttrell is a living witness. The radio contact Murphy made to call for help may well count as a second witness to his bravery. Consideration and deliberations are never discussed publicly by Pentagon officials who decide.

Dan and Maureen Murphy, who were divorced in 1999, remain such close friends that when Dan remarried last year, Maureen took care of his new bride's two children while they honeymooned in Hawaii. Their other son, John, 20, is attending the New York Institute of Technology, with hopes of pursuing a career in criminal justice.

"He's going to be the lawyer," Dan Murphy said.

Maureen Murphy visits Michael's grave site at Calverton Cemetery nearly every day, where she talks to him. Before her son was buried, she tucked into his casket a key to the front door of the family's Patchogue home where she still lives with John.

Heather Duggan lives near Wall Street in Lower Manhattan and counsels middle school students at IS-220 in Borough Park, Brooklyn. These days, she says she laughs more than she cries when she remembers Michael.

"He'll always be a part of me, but what I truly, truly miss the most - and this might shock some people - is definitely his friendship," Duggan said. "I think about him hanging out with me back in 1997-1998, with a backwards baseball hat on, out on the beach, cracking jokes and messing around. He was just such a great friend."

Several times a week, Dan Murphy drives to Lake Ronkonkoma where his son served as a lifeguard and where he practiced chin-ups to prepare for SEAL training. The memory that his son stood on this beach on hot summer days, looking out for swimmers in trouble, is reassuring to a father who desperately misses him.

He said, "It gives me a sense of peace walking on the same ground he walked."