I still can’t get my mind around this. There is this unreal feel to my life right now, the idea that I won’t see Mark again until Heaven. I don’t remember when I first met Mark. It was sometime during our time at Wheaton College. He said it was our freshman year, but my first (vivid) memory of Mark was when he was living in the ratty off-campus house near the dorms. The place had been rented out to students for decades and it was a real dump. I remember Mark charging up and down the hallways shout-singing “I WANNA BE AN AIRBORNE RANGER, I WANNA LIVE A LIFE OF DANGER” on and on, over and over. We would hang out and smoke cigarettes (mostly I would smoke, he would dip) in the basement and talk about writing (we were both in an independent study with the same prof for whom we had to write a novel), or class or books or girls. It was during these times I told him about my brother Chad Luck and his goal of becoming a Navy SEAL. Mark was quite taken with the idea. It suited him well, considering his love of the ocean.

That was sometime in 91-92. This was also the during the time that Mark was supposed to be studying for his MCATs to get into medical school. That was the original plan. So, every now and then, I’d drop by the house to see who was there, see if anyone wanted to catch or movie or get a beer and Mark’s response was usually “No, dude, I gotta study for the MCATs, but I’ll have smoke with you.” So we’d go down to the basement and smoke my Lucky Strikes (I was so cool) and talk. Finally, one night, I drop by to see him and ask if he wants to hang out. This night, he doesn’t even have time for a smoke. The MCATs are the next day. So we agree to hang out after he’s taken the test.

The next day comes. I drop by looking forward to this whole MCATs ordeal being over. I come into the house and Mark is lounging on the couch. I ask him how the test went. He looks up at me and grins.

“I didn’t take it” says Mark.

“What?” I’m shocked, “You’ve been studying for this test for almost a year.”

“I know. But the time came and I knew if I took it, I’d have an out. I don’t want to have any outs. I want to burn my bridges.”

“What are you gonna do?” I ask

“I’m gonna be a Navy SEAL.”

I wasn’t that surprised. I sensed something in Mark even back then. It was the Warrior Heart. Not many men are born warriors. My brother was. And so was Mark. Its in their nature. And I think it gave Mark joy.

Several people have commented on this board about his legendary first run, how it was ten miles long and he puked three times. Well, I took him on that first run. He asked me to help him train to get ready for BUDS. I don’t want to diminish his legend, but my memory of that first run is that it was six miles, three miles out and three miles back on the prairie path. Seriously, I feel like taking someone on a ten mile run for their FIRST workout makes me out to be sadistic. Actually nearly twenty years on, even six miles seems pretty sadistic. And I set the pace pretty brisk, doing 7-7:30 min per mile. And Mark hung in there, pretty tough. About mile four, he starts to lag. I glance back and he’s stopped by the side of the path and he’s just HEAVING. Vomiting until he’s dry-heaving.

I stood there and watched him and wondered if he really had what it took. I asked him if he wanted to walk the last couple of miles. He spits, wipes his mouth and grins at me.

“Let’s finish this run.” says Mark as he takes off past me. Suddenly I had a feeling he would make it. We went on many runs after that, but I don’t remember them. I only remember the first one. Because I saw something Mark at that moment. It was that Warrior’s heart. He was born to be a warrior, born to be a SEAL.

Over the years, Mark became more than just my friend. He became very close with my brother Chad after following him into the Teams. He spent many evenings with our whole family, when my parents would drive down to San Diego or when he would come up to Los Angeles. My parents loved Mark and Mark enjoyed spending time with them. He made us all smile and laugh, the California surfer with the laid back attitude and the inherited British mannerisms. Our prayers and love are with his parents and sisters, and his wife Sarah and daughter Cora. He will be deeply missed by the whole Luck family.

But Mark....we will see you later.