Everyone talks about there being no weapons of mass destruction in Iraq, but they seem to be referring to completed nuclear bombs, not the many deadly chemical weapons or precursors that Saddam had stockpiled.
Why a ball cap? Ninety percent of being cool is looking cool. And you look so much cooler wearing a ball cap.
When you’re working with Army and Marine Corps units, you immediately notice a difference. The Army is pretty tough, but their performance can depend on the individual unit. Some are excellent, filled with hoorah and first-class warriors. A few are absolutely horrible; most are somewhere in between. In my experience, Marines are gung ho no matter what. They will all fight to the death. Every one of them just wants to get out there and kill. They are bad-ass, hard-charging mothers.
I also learned how to take the images and paste them onto PowerPoint for briefings and the like. Yes, even SEALs use PowerPoint.
I’ve had good officers. But all the great ones were humble.
The moon, Earth, and stars aligned. God blew on the bullet, and I gut-shot the jackass.
Someone once asked me if I had a favorite distance. My answer was easy: the closer the better.
But I also think we create dependency by giving money to those who don’t want to work, both in other countries and our own. Help people help themselves – that’s the way it should be.
I don’t worry about what other people think of me. It’s one of the things I most admired about my dad growing up. He didn’t give a hoot what others thought. He was who he was. It’s one of the qualities that has kept me most sane.
Oh, they may be tough individuals, but it takes more than personal toughness to be good leaders. The methods and goals have to contribute to the toughness.
If you can’t make sense of things, you start to look for some other way to deal with them. You laugh because you have to have some emotion, you have to express yourself somehow.
Strangely, though, I like helos. During this workup, my platoon worked with MH-6 Little Birds. Those are very small, very fast scout-and-attack helicopters adapted for Special Operations work. Our versions had benches fitted to each side; three SEALs can sit on each bench. I loved them. True, I was scared.
But that’s politics for you: a bunch of game-players sitting around congratulating each other in safety while real lives are getting screwed up.
I can stand before God with a clear conscience about doing my job. But I truly, deeply hated the evil that woman possessed. I hate it to this day.
The purpose of war, as Patton put it, is to make the other dumb bastard die.
Even before I heard the stories, I don’t think I was ever under illusions that war is pretty or nice.
It was a tragic end to a heroic life.
When I think about the patriotism that drives SEALs, I am reminded of Ryan recovering in a hospital in Bethesda, Maryland. There he was, freshly wounded, almost fatally, and blind for life. Many reconstructive surgeries to his face loomed ahead. You know what he asked for? He asked for someone to wheel him to a flag and give him some time. He sat in his wheelchair for close to a half-hour saluting as the American flag whipped in the wind.
I had to wonder why these people weren’t protesting at their congressional offices or in Washington. Protesting the people who were ordered to protect them – let’s just say it put a bad taste in my mouth.
I’ve lived the literal meaning of the “land of the free” and “home of the brave.” It’s not corny for me. I feel it in my heart. I feel it in my chest.