T. Michele Walker
Peter J. Morlock, Jr. has been hustling all his life, from flying missions from Spain to Crete to taking down ships that were smuggling oil during the oil embargoes, all in pursuit of serving his country.
He hustled as an air crewman flying reconnaissance aircraft, a backseater doing intelligence collection. As a new student at the Defense Language Institute (DLI), the Navy assigned Morlock Hebrew. “I said, ‘Come on, we have one country that speaks Hebrew. We’re not going to war with them.’” After some diplomatic haggling, they reassigned Arabic.
Morlock mastered the art of negotiation at an early age. Growing up in the Rio Pinar Country Club back in the 1960s and ‘70s, golf reigned supreme. Years before Arnold Palmer’s Bay Hill, Rio Pinar’s premiere private course was the home of the Florida Citrus Open from 1966 to 1978, where residents would rub shoulders with such luminaries as Arnold Palmer, Lee Trevino and “the Golden Bear” himself, Jack Nicklaus.
An ardent golf fan, each year young Morlock would beg to attend the opening dressed as his hero. His parents proposed a deal.
“The rule was as long as I was getting A’s, I could get the same shoes, shirt, and pants as Jack Nicklaus,” explains Morlock. “That’s why we were always wearing the exact same thing. And he always let me come up front when he was playing.”
Morlock kept his word and made straight A’s. His parents kept their word, and Morlock attended the opening dressed as a mini-Jack Nicklaus. If you have any doubts, there’s a photo in the Sentinel Star circa 1970 (the current Orlando Sentinel) to prove it.
What makes a hero?
Where do they come from? What special sauce is in the mix that produces such a man or woman?
We celebrate Veterans Day every year on November 11. It’s the one day of the year to express our gratitude and honor all military veterans for their service to our country. Far more than a day off from work, Veterans Day is a significant time to connect, to listen to the stories our veterans choose to share. Stories are not just words; they hold the power to enlighten, heal and connect.
Peter J. Morlock, Jr. was born in Miami in 1961 and raised in Orlando. He served as a Senior Chief Petty Officer in the United States Navy from 1987 to 2007. His first conflict was Desert Storm in 1991, then Bosnia Herzegovina-Kosovo. “I count that all as one campaign,” he notes. “I did three tours in Afghanistan and seven in Iraq.”
A highly decorated officer, it would be impossible to list all his commendations and awards and have room for this story. There’s the Navy and Marine Corps Achievement Medals with combat, Kuwait Liberation Medal, NATO Medal, the Bronze Star with Combat.
Honored on the cover of Stars and Stripes. “I’ve got one of those 1980s porn mustaches, so it would have been around 1992. After Desert Storm, four of us in our Navy command received air medals and commendation medals. I never looked at it because I was so embarrassed by the picture.” After a pause, he adds, “I got rid of the stashe.”
And that’s the short list.
1960s Orlando was an idyllic oasis, a veritable City Beautiful.
These were the pre-Disney years, a gentler time when children could safely ride their bikes for miles, knowing to come home for dinner when the streetlights began to glow. Swimming in the lakes was commonplace. Sure, downtown I-4 was always a mess, but you could drive from Kissimmee to Tampa and count the number of cars on the road on one hand; okay, maybe two.
Serving as an acolyte at Church of Christ the King Episcopal and a student at Orange County Public Schools, Morlock walked the line between the teacher’s pet and mischievous prankster.
By the time he reached high school, Morlock was a handsome young lad on the go, popular and interested in a variety of subjects. “I’m a Gemini and I always made the joke that I would never be happy just doing one side of something.”
Active in many organizations including the National Honor Society, athletics and chorus, he played tennis with his buddies, including childhood friend Marcos Marchena. “Marcos is a good player, too, and sometimes we’d go hit some balls.”
“As a young man, Pete was a fun and funny guy and very loyal to his friends,” says Marchena, a prominent Orlando attorney.
During high school, he would frequent the burgeoning disco club scene, decked out in his Travolta-esque polyester shirt and pants, hair perfectly coiffed. It was the ‘70s and Morlock was interested in everything, with one exception: the military.
“I had no interest at all other than maybe being a diver because I’d been certified since I was 13, and at 16 you get your adult certification. But no real interest whatsoever.”
He attended college at the University of Central Florida. “I didn’t finish at UCF, which you know that stands for, ‘you can’t finish.’ And I didn’t.”
On his 21st birthday, Morlock visited Atlanta to spend time with his father. “After my parents’ divorce, my dad didn’t talk to us for a long time. But we reconnected on my 21st birthday. I liked Atlanta, so I stayed there and went to Kennesaw State.”
Together, the two Morlocks made the move to Hilton Head Island. “My dad’s business moved there, and I loved Hilton Head. But I realized I wasn’t making any progress with my life.”
It was the 1980s. Reagan was in the White House and had dropped the military enlistment period to two years. Morlock’s father, a former Marine, decided it was time for a serious discussion.
“Dad and I have one of those father son talks, which is important. I listened to him for a bit and said, ‘All right, I’ll think about it.’”
After careful consideration, Morlock agreed, “You know what, why not? Let’s try it. It can’t hurt me to explore different avenues and see if there’s a better fit.”
With the support of his mother, father and brother, Scott, Morlock enlisted in the United States Navy. He never suspected that his father, a former Marine, had his own stories he kept close to his chest.
Damn the torpedoes, Full speed ahead.
Before a recruit starts Navy Boot camp, there are several tests they must take as part of the enlistment process. The Armed Services Vocational Aptitude Battery (ASVAB) is a test which evaluates cognitive skills and serves to determine suitability for various Navy roles.
Morlock went to Boot camp in San Diego. “I took the language test after I took the ASVAB, which I maxed out.” Scoring high on an aptitude test called the Defense Language Aptitude Battery (DLAB), Peter was sent to Monterey, CA after boot camp to attend the DLI training to be an Arabic linguist.
A scrappy negotiator, he made a deal with his father: “If I finish first in my class, you have to come.”
Just like the Jack Nicklaus deal back in 1970, Peter kept his word and graduated as the “Honor Man,” the graduate who has achieved the highest overall performance in their training class. His father kept his word and flew to San Diego.
“He came to San Diego,” Morlock concedes. “But he didn’t go to my graduation because he met the USO lady, and they went on a date.” Apparently, charm is a Morlock family trait.
Morlock’s next step was the DLI in Monterey, CA. “It’s an amazingly beautiful place to go to school.”
There was one problem; the pace of learning the language was more than he expected. “I have to figure out the grammar to learn a language. Once I’ve figure this out, then I’ve got it.”
Again, his father flew to California for his graduation. “I introduced him to my teacher, a wonderful lady who’s an Arab Armenian from Syria.”
What happened next astonished Morlock, Jr. “My dad starts speaking Arabic to her. She looks at me and asks, ‘Why did you have so much trouble in my class when your dad speaks so well?’ I said, ‘I’ve never heard him speak Arabic. I had no idea.’”
Morlock knew his father had served in the Marines, but never shared his stories. Then again, he admits, “I never really asked much about it. He had the tattoo. That was it.”
Morlock, Sr. served in the Marines and was stationed in Egypt. “He was an embassy security in Egypt, and he just picked it up. He was good enough that he became a translator for one of the deputy ambassadors.”
Soon after this discovery, he called his mom. She said, “Yes, where do you think he went every Friday night?”
“I said, ‘I don’t know. I was in bed.’ Remember, I’m 3 years old.”
His father would spend Friday evenings playing backgammon at the Rio Pinar Country Club with his Arab friends, keeping up his language skills. “I’m sure there was gin rummy on the side somewhere,” he laughs.
After DLI, he went to cryptology school in San Angelo, Texas, followed by Air Crew School in Pensacola. “They said, ‘You can be a flyer and we’ll send you to Pensacola flight school, but you have to sign for two more years, and we’ll give you $40,000.’ Now you have to remember, this is 1988, a lot of money. I said, ‘Okay, put me in coach. I’ll do it.’”
“Non sibi sed patriæ”
While the Navy doesn’t have an official motto, they regard this Latin phrase, meaning “Not for self, but for country,” as their unofficial motto.
Morlock’s first duty station was Athens, Greece. “I don’t joke about where I got stationed. I mean, you think about Monterey, a beautiful place, and Greece is absolutely amazing.”
Taking part in many significant engagements, there was a three-week period when he was in 47 firefights with SEAL Team 3.
He attended BUD/S, Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL Training in Coronado in San Diego. According to the Pritzker Military Museum and Library, the 24-week course is considered “one of the most demanding mental and physical trials known to man.”
At 37, Morlock was older than the rest of his team, the oldest graduate of any special warfare special operations training. “I made a lot of good friends. I was lucky, the people around me, we made a good team.”
From 1994 to 1997, he was a deputy branch chief in the Arab shop with the National Security Agency.
Like many veterans, Morlock has countless stories to share. His adventures would make a thrilling book or movie. The film “Tears of the Sun” starring Bruce Willis, is loosely based on one of his experiences.
“We’re both bald, except he’s 6’2” and I’m 5’8”, and we both married Italian women,” he says.
Familial Revelations
Most veterans agree on two things about their military experience: it made them grow up, and they learned a lot about themselves. Morlock is no exception. And it was through the military that he learned about his father.
It was in Egypt, 1998 or ‘99. “I’ve been to Egypt so many times, I can’t remember. We finished our training, and so we were given a break from one of the ambassador groups. I thought, ‘Great! I’ll pop over to Giza and see the pyramids.”
While shopping for a souvenir for his son, Erik, he saw a hotel. “It was one of these sunken kinds of bars, because you can drink in Egypt in the western hotel. I go in and the bartender, he’s 108 years old, looks at me and says, ‘You look like somebody I knew.’ He was the same bartender that my dad went to in 1950.”
Morlock was carrying one of those satellite phones, circa 1984, à la Don Johnson of Miami Vice. “I called my dad, and they had a conversation.”
A similar revelation occurred while Morlock was in Desert Storm, stationed in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia, where they had Happy Hour Tuesdays. “That’s when they can drink in Saudi Arabia, only at the embassy or the security compound.”
With only a couple of days off, Morlock and three buddies decide to go into the Marine compound.
“I introduced myself,” he says.
“Morlock?”
“Yes.”
“Is that somebody related to you?” they asked, pointing to a golf trophy.
“I didn’t know this, but in 1958, my dad won the Marine Corps Golf Tournament in Saudi Arabia. His name was on a plaque behind the bar.”
“Do you play golf, too?” they asked.
“No, I grew up on a golf course. Why would I do that?”
Morlock no longer plays golf. “I’m horrible at it,” he admits. “My granddaughter’s not even three months old, and she could beat me.”
Fair Winds and Following Seas.
Morlock’s final deployment was in Iraq, spending the first half of the deployment as personal security for Iraq’s President Talabani.
“He’s a Kurd, and we were supposed to be helping to train the Kurds in personal security detail.”
Jalal Talabani was the sixth president of Iraq from 2005 to 2014 and a member of the Iraqi Governing Council which negotiated Iraq’s interim constitution, the Transitional Administrative Law (TAL).
“President Talibani was a unique person, spoke five languages, and had an amazing mind. He was also 5’4”, and a blueberry muffin short of 400 lbs,” he jokes.
After seeing himself for the first time on TV, Talibani declared, “I’ve got to lose weight.” From that point, he would only eat white meat. According to Reuters, President Talibani flew to the United States “to undergo general medical checks and to reduce my weight.” Talibani passed away in 2017.
When he left the military, Morlock was living in Virginia Beach, doing contract work for groups associated with special operations. “My first contracting job was to write a special warfare publication. I believe I have two publications that are at the Naval War College.”
Morlock has a gift for writing, a talent he put to use in the Navy. He ran into Brandon Webb, owner of SOFREP, an online military news site. “We knew each other from the West Coast. He’s a great guy, a writer and a New York Times Best Seller.” Morlock has contributed several stories to the site.
“I’ll be honest with you. I kind of miss it. My wife, Danielle, keeps saying, ‘Why don’t you get back into writing?’”
In 2009, he returned to Florida to take care of his mom, who was later diagnosed with Lou Gehrig’s disease (ALS). “We didn’t know this at the time, but she was really struggling and didn’t have any help.”
It was a painful decision. After 20 years in the military, he was living close to his son, Erik, who was still a teenager. “I wanted to bring her up to Virginia, but it was too cold for her. So I made the tough call and moved to Florida to care for my mom. She passed in 2010.”
Morlock beams when talking about his son. A graduate from The University of Virginia, Erik married his childhood sweetheart. A man of many talents, Morlock’s an ordained minister, and had the honor of officiating his son’s wedding. The couple recently welcomed their first child, Sofie Mae.
Today, Morlock is married to his lovely wife, Danielle. They’re living the good life in St. Pete, where he stays as busy as ever. He is a Gemini, after all.
“I am probably the luckiest operator that I know,” he concedes, “Only because I always seemed to be in a situation where something happened, and I was lucky enough to either get it from the intelligence standpoint or be a part of it when the something happened, whether Afghanistan or Iraq.”
If there is one area that Morlock appears to be cursed, it’s weather. “Every place I went, the worst weather in the world followed me.” From the coldest winter on record at 11,000 feet in Afghanistan, to arriving home as Hurricane Elizabeth was hitting Virginia Beach.
Then there was the time the Navy sent him to Paris for language school. “That’s the year they had the worst summer, where the temperature didn’t drop below 100 degrees for a month—10,000 people died.”
Once again, Morlock was scrappy and put his haggling skills to good use. “I had to bribe a bar owner to bring a sleeping bag into the bar because it was the only place I could find that had air conditioning.”
He survived, thanks to his hustle, charm and the negotiating skills he learned while growing up in Orlando; a skill he mastered in order to be close to his golf hero.
What makes a hero? Where do they come from? It could be your mother or your father, your sister or brother, or maybe a childhood buddy who sat next to you in school.
Each year when Veterans Day rolls around, it’s an opportunity to thank and honor our heroes for their sacrifice and service. It’s even more important to sit down, grab a coffee or a beer and listen as they share their stories.
They’re a modest bunch, our veterans. The word hero makes them squirm. In a Veterans Day speech in 2019, former Vice President Pence said, “Our veterans really don’t consider themselves heroes. Most of them reject the very thought if it.”
“It’s really nothing special that I did or some unique knowledge,” says Morlock. “I just rolled the dice, and I was lucky.”
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