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The Only Easy Day Was Yesterday!

The day we lost all our hair... and drank allot!
Me and my Pal Scotty.

It all started August 14, 1986 - the day before my 20th birthday.  I had spent the last year in the Navy getting ready for this day.   All through boot camp and Gunners Mate 'A' school in Great Lakes, ILL, I trained my ASS off.  My Company Commanders during boot camp thought me crazy when I routinely volunteered to go to IT (Intensive training used for punishment where you work out till you drop).  I loved every moment of it...  During 'A' school a few of us (my room mate Colin, John & Steve from Arkansas and myself - by the way, we all became Seals!) got together every night at 11:00 pm and ran three to five miles; we were up at the crack of dawn to hit the gym, and at lunch we did calisthenics.  School   really interrupted our  training schedule.  I arrived in sunny Coronado, CA sometime in June of 1986.  My workout schedule continued but more intensely.   I befriended a few seals and trained with them every day.  Class convening day for BUD/s class 141; August 14, 1986.  This is the day that all (about) 130 of us were waiting for.  We had the traditional hair cutting party, ate tons of food and drank!  If only we really knew what was to come...
We all  moved  into our new homes.  This place was really heaven.  Only 100 or so yards from the beach.  My room overlooked the ocean, and every night I got to fall asleep too the sounds of crashing waves. 1st phase started.  I thought the BUD/s instructors were Gods...  and to me, they were.   I feared them. I respected them.  I stayed out of their way!   We ran everywhere in those stupid combat boots, occasionally being 'dropped' for a set of pushups by a passing instructor. We did allot of swimming.  I mean ALLOT!  We spent hours of time in class learning about being a SEAL and what we will be doing during BUD/s and then "in the unlikely event we make it through training" what the TEAMs were like.  Phase one was/is the conditioning phase.  I though it was fairly easy, although we had a bunch of guys 'ring out' and quit.  tension was rising has the end of 1st phase came... We all knew what was coming... HELL WEEK!  And for all you wannabees out there, hell week is nothing compared to some of the stuff you'll have to do when you get to the TEAMs! HooYa!

Our private condo on the beach in Sunny Southern California!

 

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people pay lots of money for mud baths

It was a Sunday night mid September 1986.  About 90 or so of us were trying to relax.  We had set up tents on the beach beside our barracks for the start of Hell Week.  Some paced, some sat and looked to the stars, others fitted with their equipment... but none slept.  The nerve-racking expectation of the dreaded week ahead had us all wound pretty tight.

I was sitting on my sleeping bag trying to relax when I heard someone walking out side our huge tent.  Just as I turned to my friend Jim to let him know, all hell broke loose.  First, a few grenade simulators were tossed amongst us, then a barrage of simulated gun fire followed by lots of smoke.   Then Like an army of ants overtaking a freshly drooped piece of candy, the instructors swarmed.  Mass confusion was their goal, and they easily attained it.


Instructors shouted commands through bull horns from all direction.  the clear night was clouded by the smoke grenades and, our ears rang from the constant barrage of machine gun fire and simulators.  We were finally ordered to assemble on the beach where we did hours of grueling, intense physical training.  We were harassed, put down, and told to quit now and save ourselves all the pain... The ring of the bell cut through my soul.  Another quitter.  No way, I thought: Not me, I'll Never quit!

'Demo Pit'

 

Look, they give us our own boats!

After we were properly tortured, we held formation at the ocean's edge with our IBSs (inflatable boat, small).  Now it was time to paddle... somewhere???  "Rock Portage" an instructor bellowed through the blow horn.   (He's having too much fun I thought - this is the sane guy that swam across Coronado bay drunk and hand cuffed after being arrested by shore patrol for fighting in the 'O' club.  HeHeHe) 

Through the night surf we paddled.  Surf passage is hard enough during the day, but at night it's hell.  My boat crew was lucky enough to get through on the first try.  Others were not so skilled, being assimilated by huge, crashing waves and then spit out on shore like a wet sock.  And into the waiting arms of your not-so-friendly instructors, who after a few choice words, sent you off to battle again.

After an intimate relationship with a few hundred pound rubber boat, a shoreline of huge rocks and the massive, pounding surf, we were off to my favorite evolution of hell week - the steel pier!

This was the night my life changed forever, a defining moment in  when a decision was made, a path was chosen and  character was forged.   The Steel Pier!  There we were, lying naked on the huge steel docks at the anfib base.  The instructors casually hosed us down with cold water and rotated us every once in a while.  I think they had a cooking theme going on between them.   every half hour of so we were made to jump into the bay and tread water with our boat crews.   I was not doing very well.  The bell was ringing constantly, and they wrapped the quitters in warm wool blankets and gave them steaming hot coffee.

I had strained my back during rock portage, and the shivering cold only tightened it worse.   Ii could hardly tread water due to the shooting pain.  I was starting to crack... We were ordered to lay on the Piers again - my back cramped up fiercely.  I could hardly move.  I laid there shivering, as cold water from garden hoses blanketed my naked body. ' Take Cover' an instructor ordered; off to tread water again... then it happened.  My back cramped, pain shot through my body and I fell back to the chilling steel floor.  "What the hell's your problem boy"  blasted from somewhere behind me.  Then a swift, solid kick to my side turned me over.  An instructor peered down at me and hissed "either get in the fucking water or quit."  "My back" I weakly whispered. "What?  who cares.   Do You Want to Quit?" I gathered all my strength and stood, perhaps I could reason with this man.

'O' course

Log PT builds TEAMWORK

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The rope crossing at the 'Demo Pit'

He could apparently see the pain in my gestures because his stern face softened just long enough to tell me to  see the Doc.

Doc was standing with another BUD/s instructor with that dam ominous, brass bell right behind them. "You quitting" he asked? "No sir, my back." I could hear my class mates yelling for my return in the back ground.  what's wrong? I explained.  He said I could quit or get back in the water.  Shit I could barely stand upright.   How could I continue through Hell Week like this, I thought.  I stood staring at them two for  what seemed like eternity.  The silence was broken by the Instructor.  "Get back in the water Dave, Your not a quitter and we like you." (I never thanked him for that... I don't even remember what his name is now... but THANK YOU!)  That's when my life changed.  Something deep down inside me flourished to the surface, and I started to laugh almost hysterically.   "HOOOYAAA! INSTRUCTOR!"  I yelled as loud as I could, mustered my strength, stood tall and sprinted back to the pier.  There I did a swan dive into the bay to rejoin my class mates!  That was the turning point for me.  I knew I was going to be a SEAL from that moment forward.  Hell Week was just that, a week of being cold, wet, hungry, beat down always on the move no sleep... It sucked, and I really don't wish to ever repeat anything like it again.  But if I had to...  NO FUCKING PROBLEM!

We managed to get through Hell Week only loosing about sixty people.  Sixty-ish people quit in six days. Most in the first three.  Rarely do people quit after Wednesday.  I think 28 of us got to put our green shirts on and paint our helmets red! For those of you who think the hard part is over... Not a chance.   We had about a week to recover, then it was back to the grind.  We started getting ready for 2nd phase, 'the Island' as it's called.  {Sometime in the 90s the phases of BUD/s were switched around.  This has actually happened a few times in the history of SEAL training.  When I went through BUD/s in 1986,  2nd phase was Land Warfare and 3rd was Dive Phase. At the Island we'll do all our land warfare training.  But first a few weeks of prepping.  Lots of ocean swimming, running and the PT is much more intense... and don't forget the 'O' course.  We did lots of, well different, things.  Like the time we had to strip down and lie in an ice cold stream.  Yea, it was in California but there was frost on the ground and ice on the edges.  Inland CA in the mountains can get cold in the late fall season.

They thought we were hot, so we had to get naked and sit in this ice cold stream. Pete, you look a little cold!

Part of the 'O'course at BUD/s

A few days before we left for the Island I twisted my ankle real bad.  It swelled up like a huge watermelon.  I didn't take my boots off for fear I'd never get it back on.  I tried to hide the injury from the instructors, but to no avail.  I couldn't walk very well. Never mind run.  This time I was what they called 'rolled back' to the next class.  I had about a month to get better and join the next class when they went to the Island.  It really sucked to see all my friends go on with out me, really sucked!   But I kept my spirits high and hit the gym every chance I got.  I got very strong during this month, and I felt great, Ready to take on anything they through at my.   Fully recovered and in high spirits, I joined winter class 142 for the plane ride to San Clemente Island.
We landed and were greeted by Lt. John Konig (hope I spelled it right).   He was probably the most influential SEAL I ever knew.   This man was what we called 'Hard' He was everything I thought a SEAL should be, a true operator, a true warrior.  Most other seals I know were kinda 'Hollywood' more show and attitude than action.  Lt. Konig was my idol.  I wanted to be just like him, and I trained extra hard to be better than every one else.  The picture below shows me in front of the group on a sprint to the ocean and back to 'get wet and sandy.'   Lt. had some pretty good lines to motivate you to train harder.  My favorite one, and still is today was: "Charlie don't care if your tired boy.  He'll sneak up on ya slit your fucking throat."  Then he would tell you to run faster, shoot better, swim harder, do more pushups or whatever evolution you were doing at the time.   All my friends feared him, I respected him.  Most hated him, I revered him.   He use to go an all our runs with us, he'd swim with us he shoot with us, and when we were done, he go out and train some more by himself.  We all thought he was fucking crazy!  

In the weapons locker. The 'Island' 2nd phase BUD/s

"go get wet and sandy, worms!" The 'Island'

I loved the Island.  We ran miles and miles up and down these huge hills, we swam three and five mile swims. We did mock combat missions. We shot allot of weapons.  We learned about explosives for land and sea use and blew lots of things up.  We slept outside.  We did insanely long, grueling workouts.   We had to do pull-ups for every meal.  We were transforming physically and mentally.  I was strong, confident and had a huge attitude.  It was fun.
I think the Island phase lasted for about five weeks.  The last night there we had a huge party.   A Few of the instructors went and shot a wild bore and ground cooked it under the camp fire.  We also feasted on freshly caught lobster and even got to drink beer!   Ii was shit faced after one!  The next morning I said goodbye to the Island and Lt. Konig.  We were off to paint our helmets again.  This time blue! Third phase was diving phase!

Before a 3 mile swim at the 'Island'

 

Ready for Action. 2nd Phase BUD/s

Well we got off the plane all cocky and tough looking.  We thought we were cool.  Very cool until we reached the buds compound.  There we were greeted by the happy staff of diving phase.  They were so happy to see us, they decided to torture us for about a half a day.  After a good ass whooping, we all got three days off to get our affairs in order.  We had all been away for over a month. There were bills to pay, food to eat, beer to drink and don't forget... our women had not seen us for a month!  But for most, lots of sleep was our first thought!  After all you only get about 2 to 4 hours of shut eye a night at the Island for the whole month.  Well I didn't have a girlfriend (story of my life. I still don't), so I just washed my clothes and relaxed on the beach all weekend.
Third phase was pretty cool.  We got a lot of admin. time off to plan our future. After all, in a few short weeks we'd all be graduating from BUD/s and off to the teams!  But first we had to learn to scuba dive and use the LAR V Rebreathers.   Scuba diving was great.  They found convenient ways to make it as tough as they possibly could.  The PTs were as tough and long as they ever were.  I did not think the human body could do so many pushups, pull-ups and sit-ups in one short session.  The runs were longer and faster and the swims were like sprints!  

Cool Guy shot. The 'Island'

 

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photo from BUD/s Class 29 Little Creek, VA Beach. (complements of John Carl Roat. Thanks!)

Actual scuba training was easy, but they found ways to bring us to our limits.  We'd have to dive back and forth in the deep end of the pool looking only down.  The instructors would 'attack' us from behind, pulling our equipment off.   They would strip our masks off, pull our regulators out of our mouth and tie it behind us and do all sorts of strange stuff.  We had to 'fix' our problems without coming up for air.  I learned to hold my breath for a long, long time.  After we mastered SCUBA and had some ocean dives under our belts, it was time to learn the Rebreathers, the underwater stealth diving rig of the Navy SEAL.  
We did hours and hours of class and pool training before we got to use the rigs in the open water.  At first, we did short day dives.  Then after we learned to master the art of underwater compass navigation, the dives turned into underwater marathons.  We'd dive for hours, up to three times a day.  And don't for a minuet think the running, swimming and PT stopped for a second; it only got harder as time went by.  Then one day we all heard what we had been waiting for "go get your dress whites on and stand for graduation inspection!"  HOOYA we all screamed, as we scampered into our rooms to change. 

We ere so proud that moment, standing there in our dress uniforms in front of all the other phases of trainees and all the instructors.  AH, but it's not over yet, as we were soon reminded of.   "you guys look like shit!" they yelled.  "Drop!" well we all hesitated a bit.  I think it was because we were in our dress whites.  Those things are expensive... and hard to clean.  Well that was the wrong reaction.   We were orders to the surf zone were we got wet and sandy and did eight count body builders in ankle deep salt water... Yes, in our DRESS WHITES!  One last mind fuck just to let us know it was not over yet.

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Graduation Day. HOOYA! Shit, that was easy!

But it really was!  26 weeks of non stop training.  26 weeks of hell.  It was hard, yes.  But it was also fun.  I enjoyed my time at BUD/s for the most part.  I laughed allot when it got tough.  I always thought I'd rather be getting tortured in the surf zone by the most elite combat warriors in the world than scraping paint off the side of some stupid boat with some fat Chief yelling at me, ya know!  I managed to graduate in the top 10% of my class and was offered my first chose of duty station.  I choose SEAL TEAM II.
                                SEAL TEAM TWO

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