My Sister Mocked Me Before the Generals — Until Her SEAL Commander Called Me the “Angel of Death” Small towns measure worth in applause. My sister, Valerie, collected it like badges—parades, podiums, handshakes that lingered for the camera. I learned early that some kinds of work don’t look like heroism from a bleacher seat. Mine lived in binders and maps, in plans that asked men to tape their boots and double-check batteries because breath is a luxury you earn. Overseas, the nickname that wasn’