by Thom Shea
As I waited, I thought of what my kids’ lives would be like in adulthood. I knew Autumn would enjoy junior high and high school. She was more mature than I was at her age, and far smarter academically. I was excited for Garrett to go through puberty. I know how frustrating being a boy in this new-age world can be. Chance, I need say nothing. He knows I will be watching him closely, from wherever I am.
After sighting in all weapons, lasers, rockets, and mortars, we had about an hour of daylight left—time for a little competition shooting. The event would start at the 50-meter mark with the pistol, then run back to the 200-meter berm and shoot with the M4, then finally back to the 800-meter mark and engage with the new SCAR heavy. I don’t recall who won, but I remember the smiles and laughter of the men, and I felt like a good time meant more than anything at that point. Damn, these men could shoot well, all of them!
Back in the compound, we set to cleaning and preparing all weapons for combat. With my weapons cleaned and ready, I sat down behind my computer, lifted the screen, and waited to see if we had Internet connectivity. When Yahoo! opened, so did my emotions. Emotion is not a bad thing to have.
Emotion is not a bad thing to have. The more emotion, the more passion.
With passion, you get action, and with action, you get life.
After typing in my username and password, I saw an unread email from Stacy. All the email said was: call me please.
I typed in her number and listened to the ringing. “Hello, Shea’s.” I so love Stacy’s voice—all female, all woman, and always light and alive.
“Hey, Honey,” I smiled into the phone.
“Oh, thank God you are alive. We prayed twice a day you and your men would make it back to us. Thank you for calling. So how was it? Can you share anything?” she asked.
I replied, “Well, it was exactly what we all were training for, and what I have wanted all of my life. I can’t say more than that because we are probably being monitored.”
She said, “Thom, it is OK. I get it. We’ve all been busy and happy. We talk about you constantly, and I let the kids say whatever they want to. Garrett is a bit distant at times. He is trying to work out why you are gone and what you are doing. I don’t tell him too much except that you are happy and strong. I think he needs to hear that.”
“Yes, I agree. He is at that age where he needs to hear only happy and good things. How is Autumn?” I asked.
Stacy replied, “She cries sometimes when she sees a picture of you or watches the video you made for her.”
I ventured, “I bet Chance is uniquely aware of me being gone, and can tell when you are sad.”
She told me, “Oh, Thom, he is your son. He is so sensitive to my emotions just like you are. We were listening to the Peter Gabriel song “Father, Son;” you know, the one where he sings about his father? He looked at me with tears in his eyes and said, ‘Momma, I miss cuddling with daddy.’ I lost it, and we both cried a little. Then he put his hand on my shoulder and said, ‘Momma, daddy is fighting isn’t he?’ He is such a smart boy, Thom. I love him so much. Thank you for giving him to us.”
“Honey, we killed a lot of enemy. None of us got injured. Not one. I am proud of these men. It was the hardest thing most of them will ever do,” I shared.
“Thom, I am proud of you. I want you to get that. You are strong and they love you, and they need you badly. Don’t give up, and don’t let your guard down until you are here with us again,” Stacy replied.
“Sorry I took so long to get back with you. They put us on lockdown and turned off the Internet.”
“Don’t you dare apologize! We know what is going on with you. Now that you’re in combat, our relationship has no place for worry about me or us. We are living our lives and having fun doing it.”
I replied gratefully, “Thank you, honey. I need to hear that sometimes. I need to know you are all safe and happy.”
Stacy reminded me, “Remember what I said to you? I am firmly holding you to it. We need you to come back to us. Don’t you dare be afraid while you are away. Fear makes you weak. Your men need you to fear nothing.”
“Damn, my wife is a Spartan. I just wanted to say I miss you.”
“I know you do, baby. Just don’t put fear in a sentence. We both know how powerful language is and how our thoughts control our physical stuff.”
“OK. I so want you, Honey. I miss putting the kids to bed and locking the door,” I added.
“That is the Thom I know and love. I took some bikini photos I will send. Keep the energy up,” she teased.
Then she continued, “Thom, I met some new friends who want to work with the SEAL Foundation to put on a gala event in South Carolina raising money to support you all … you know, just in case. If anything happens to you guys, I want to be prepared to support all the families. Tammy and Jerry are willing, and want to do this for us.”
“Why the hell are you thinking about us dying? And who are these people, and why would they wanna help?” I questioned.
She sighed. “Well, this is who I am. I think it’s one of the reasons you married me, you dork. I have to prepare everything for you not coming home, and for your men if they do not come home. And, when Tammy and Jerry came over for dinner, I sorta shared our ‘Unbreakable’ writings with them. They both were so shocked, they called their friends and everyone wants to help. They just don’t know how. So, sit back and relax, it is going to happen and it is for you all.”
“Spartan Wife should be the name of this stuff I am writing for you and the kids,” I said, and we both laughed. I was so proud of Stacy. She rocks.
I can’t remember having any dreams that night or the next few nights. The days went by smoothly, because we were all once again thoroughly engaged in finding the enemy as well as future combat engagements.
Our boss called our skipper from SEAL Team Seven, who was leading the Team in Iraq, and finally got permission to get the rest of my platoon moved from Iraq to hell. We would be united once again.
I was reminded to let my kids know the dynamics that happen with us at home are the same as this dynamic with my platoon. Doing things separately is great, but going on hikes with my family is truly enjoyable, and less drama to be sure. When my family is together, I feel better as a father, and know we are moving forward as a family. Now my platoon will all be together … but not for a family hike. The drama created by different levels of ability and maturity exists in any group dynamic. When a family of five goes on a crazy hike up some cliffs at Mission Gorge, their drama is the same as a platoon of SEALs which was divided and has undergone vastly different experiences.
I was happy the platoon would all be together again. We definitely needed the guns and abilities they would bring. Yet, I was concerned at the difference in tactical maturity the new guys to hell would have. Some things we learn in life cannot be taught. More to the point, I was concerned because my ‘hell-worn’ men would be planning missions the new guys would not be able to do.
Every leader considers certain points about the men under his command. These ingrained rules of thumb were what I considered as the men flew into hell. I want to share them with you:
1. Plan to win every single battle—in detail. Win!
2. Do not mentally or physically plan for the attrition of your men. Bring everyone home.
3. Keep it simple, stupid. Make sure a five-year-old can understand it. Because when you are tired and scared, you act like a five-year-old. KISS!
4. If in doubt, refer to rule number two. Bring everyone home.
These rules will guide you well throughout your lives. Sometimes what you need to do, or what you think, will not be clear. The older I get, I absolutely know that nothing is clear. I laugh at people who suggest hard and fast rules exist that cannot be broken. Physics has many guiding principles that usually work about 99 percent of the time. I recall reading the Bohr/Einstein papers where two of the most brilliant minds of their day talked about mathematical equations. After much heated debate, Einstein pointed out the co
ncept of relativity. Relativity suggests that time slows down for the person or object traveling at the speed of light, yet stays the same for the object observing the other object traveling really fucking fast.
ADAMANTINE LESSON SIX
Relativity
I don’t know the whole debate on relativity and quantum physics, but what a fun thought affecting us here on earth. Everything, always, is relative to the point of view of the observer. I know that may sound heady to be writing from combat, but as you work with the rules of thumb, know your point of view determines what you see, what you think about, and ultimately what you will do. The dance is fucked up, I know. I am laughing, too. Work on it.
This is the sixth task for you. Test, challenge, alter, and shift your points of view, using your Internal Dialogue. Then watch miracles happen.
I spent some time in my youth reading the correspondences between Einstein and Bohr. I cannot recall if the writings even had a name, but within the rantings and mathematical formulas, one striking communication happened. They were working on solving a complicated formula, and while I’m paraphrasing this, Einstein wrote: “We cannot solve the problems we face at the same level of thinking we have achieved thus far. We must alter our thinking to another level.”
The condition of thinking and solving the day-to-day problems will forever confine and restrict the solution. I personally think the solution and the problem arise out of the Internal Dialogue that first gave us access to that particular action.
Yet for you, my children, when you fall upon hard, challenging times, remember this point: your actions or your solutions are relative to your point of view. And your point of view is exactly directed and shaped by your Internal Dialogue. So shift your dialogue to something greater or harder, and you will see the small problems get worked out rather quickly.
SECTION SEVEN
APPETITE
the boys i mean are not refined
they go with girls who buck and bite
they do not give a fuck for luck
they hump them thirteen times a night
one hangs a hat upon her tit
one carves a cross on her behind
they do not give a shit for wit
the boys i mean are not refined
they come with girls who bite and buck
who cannot read and cannot write
who laugh like they would fall apart
and masturbate with dynamite
the boys i mean are not refined
they cannot chat of that and this
they do not give a fart for art
they kill like you would take a piss
they speak whatever’s on their mind
they do whatever’s in their pants
the boys i mean are not refined
they shake the mountains when they dance
e.e. cummings
My boys return. For days prior to the first boys from Iraq arriving in hell, my energy lifted to the same level of excitement I had prior to the birth of Chance. Long months of watching them grow with many nights spent dealing with the pains of their growing, and ultimately, finally coming to a head … so to speak. Nothing is better in life than uniting the clans, so we can do battle together.
We had begun planning the first mission SEAL Team Seven had designed; we broke free from the local SF targeting line and were ready to take a new style of fighting to the enemy. We were going to take the fight to the enemy where he slept and trained.
We spontaneously decided to run more during the weeks leading up to our first endurance mission. I personally found running a nice way to relieve stress and whittle away at the hours and days we were mandated to be in hell. As Nike put it, “PT is the only way to legally have a morphine injection.” So each day, we would sleep through the heat and wake at dinnertime. After dinner, we would file into the gym and get our morphine on.
All the days leading up to the boys’ return and our first mission began bleeding into a blur of waking up, eating, working out, planning, chatting with Stacy, and shooting. I am sure most people would find that fun and exciting. I just wanted to get back into combat. A yearning for combat was growing inside me. I yearned for the intimacy and smell of battle and movement, and, something wickedly deep kept telling me I would not make it home.
Reading this, you kids must surely ask yourselves why your dad would want this life of facing death over and over and over. I do not have an answer. At least my words don’t seem to do justice to an explanation. I have been working on the answer over the past two weeks. And though the words may not capture the answer, the space between words is really where all the true meaning lies, anyway:
When you dream, dream of nothing more than living in this moment.
Wake each day wanting your life and no other.
Want your body, want your family, want your life.
Run like you are being chased, and chase like you are hungry.
Love as if in the next minute your mate will be gone.
Do not fear death; it only makes you weak.
Daddy 2009
While cleaning up extra rooms for the boys and creating more space for their war goods in our war room, we discussed the upcoming mission and what would be needed to bring the boys up to speed. At this point in our platoon’s development and maturity, having a round-table discussion was possible. We put the maps on the table and stepped through the overall plan from beginning to end.
The point of the walk through was not to see if the plan was effective, but to see where and when the new boys would be put into the game, and if they would be able to handle that particular situation. I share this point with you for two reasons that will become clearer. The first reason is simply to share with you what I was doing over here. The second is to teach you to open your minds to planning, and knowing what may happen and when, so you can help at critical points. You will be able to predict what will happen in your life if you begin knowing how you see the world; you will be able to inject solutions when you learn how to use your own Internal Dialogue, and also know how others use theirs.
The original plan was to put the new guys in the same positions we had all been in during our year of training together. However, as we talked through the movement of the operation, we discovered that at several points, the new guys would be by themselves making tactical and life-changing decisions without any of us to aid. I was unwilling to let the new guys have the reins without myself, Nike, or LT there to oversee. I admit I am a controlling bear at times—alright most of the time—however, I was not going to risk anyone’s life or test their abilities here in hell.
We actually all agreed without much discussion. We had learned the dangers of assuming ability and skill in this environment. The flow of the plan stayed the same, but the positioning of everyone changed, so the new guys were meshed into pockets in the patrol order where they were surrounded by the survivors we had all become. I finally said, “At no point in time will one of the new guys be out of your sight. Do not put any of them into a condition where he has to make a call or make a decision other than shoot or don’t shoot. We have learned too much to tell them during the three days they will have prior to a mission. Trust me on this, gents, the boys need to feel you around them. They should never feel alone and unsupported out here.”
With that part complete, we all went to lunch, then headed to the airfield to pick up the boys. The atmosphere was hilarious. We knew the new guys would be nervous and anticipating something far from the truth. We had decided to rush them through dinner and push them immediately out to the shooting range. The intent was to make them think it was dangerous in the compound all day long, so we all had to carry guns with us twenty-four hours a day.
When the ramp lowered from the plane, the looks on all of their faces made us laugh. They were frowning like they were about to get in a fight, and their eyes darted left and right like there was already a fight going on. Then the funniest thing happened: an enemy rocket flew overhead and hit a building
about 600 yards away. Alarms on base sounded, and aircrews and other people ran for cover. We all lay on the airfield, laughing. Timing in the delivery in a joke is priceless. Especially when the enemy makes a joke out of trying to kill us.
Finally, a security crew drove over and yelled at us for not taking cover in the bomb shelters. I answered, still laughing, “Bro, the rocket already hit. The damage is done. We need to pick up our guys and get them out of here.”
I don’t think he wanted to hear that. As we walked to the bomb shelter, the security guard took down my name and my command’s name. He threatened to kick us all off base. “So, you mean you have the authority to send me home to my wife and kids because we didn’t run scared?” I asked sarcastically. I don’t think he wanted to hear that, either. He stormed off without getting into the bomb shelter. Hypocrite!
I just had to share this funny story with my kids. They all know their daddy likes to fight authority, and likes getting up in someone’s grill at every opportunity. I know this trait of mine drove off Garrett and Autumn’s mom. I am glad Stacy actually likes this degenerate quality of mine.
Following dinner and the night shoot, we found ourselves circled around the planning table looking at maps and going over the general flow of the mission, once again. All the old guys were animatedly talking over the visceral things that would most likely happen. Looking over at the new guys, I saw the confusion and hesitancy in their faces and eyes and noticed they were not saying anything out loud. I think no one else noticed this nuance. But with my years of training SEALs and facing different life-threatening missions, I clearly saw the sign of fear, masked by overt quietness, hiding the inner roar of confusion.
As I do when I am home with my kids, I simply said to them, “This isn’t a game where keeping your tongue will keep you alive or make things miraculously disappear. Now that we have told you the entire mission flow, you have to talk out the reservations you have; you have to say what you think you will need to carry out the mission. We may have missed something. You have to tell us what is missing.”