Unbreakable: A Navy SEAL’s Way of Life

by Thom Shea

  With that, many of the new guys talked through basics they thought we had missed, such as, “Why are we just taking four magazines of ammo, instead of ten?” I chimed in with, “In this game, here in hell, you have to be mobile. The extra weight will kill you. And, gents, you only shoot if you have something to shoot at. Do not waste your bullets thinking you are keeping their heads down simply by shooting. Seeing their buddy’s head explode next to them will keep them from shooting back at you—and ensure you only shoot to kill.”

  Another new guy asked, “Chief, if a woman is carrying an AK-47, what is the real Rule Of Engagement (ROE) on that?”

  I answered, “Bro, don’t be confused. They all know the deal here. If they are making an aggressive move on you for any reason, you have to do what you think is right to protect yourself and me, dammit. Don’t hesitate to make the right decision. Stacy will kill you if I die here because you failed to act.” We all laughed, but the point was made.

  The last question caught many of us off guard, to be sure, “Chief, we are hiking over some high-altitude mountains. We are not in shape for this like you all are. I am not proud to say that we will need to rest several times.”

  I looked at Nike and we smiled. “I will make sure I am fresh before we hit the target,” I said, and I am eighteen years older than you. Trust me, we will rest. This isn’t a sprint.”

  ADAMANTINE LESSON SEVEN

  Connection

  I learned several nuances about how performance dwindles when connection is lost while I was a student in SEAL BUD/S training in 1994. SEAL instructors hammer home the basic lessons such as the swim buddy rule. This rule is paramount while going through training. It simply states, “While conducting hazardous training evolutions, students will be in swimmer pairs, and no pair will be separated by a distance greater than six feet.” I am sure safety reasons come into play for this while in training. Yet the rule, and the fallout from not obeying the rule, ingrains in each student the need and desire to be intimately linked to his buddy. That impression lasts a lifetime.

  I also observed, as a student, that during timed runs or conditioning runs, when a student was separated from the group, when he felt he could no longer stay up with the group, his performance faltered considerably. Often students would literally quit when they perceived they no longer could hang with their peers, or were no longer connected physically with the group.

  Later, as an instructor while in third phase, on long runs or long backpack runs, I would notice the separation and slowing of the students in the back, so I would circle back and literally pick up the stragglers. Re-joining the class served me well, and I noticed the students in the back would revive and put out once again. I learned physical connection helps with Internal Dialogue and, ultimately, physical performance.

  Later, I used this knowledge while adventure racing. The rule was simple. If anyone fell behind the pace, we would literally tether the slow person to the faster ones and stay connected in order to go faster. The subversive mental strain and ensuing shitty Internal Dialogue of being physically disconnected from the group is a death sentence. I observed other teams in adventure racing not following this cardinal rule, and they would always quit or get injured, but most certainly, they would complain and feel separate.

  I share this so you can put into practice this important point of connection within the framework of Internal Dialogue. During difficult times, times when mental and physical exhaustion sets in, you MUST connect with those around you. This might seem counterintuitive in every sense of the word, but when you feel pain, you will want to withdraw. When you feel like you are no longer connected, you will want to simply stay that way. I don’t know why the mind and body do that to our efforts. Maybe millions of years of programming makes us believe when the weak fall back, they are no longer worthy, and no longer needed, I suppose.

  But, in reality, this is nonsense. Simply use what I have taught you thus far. You will have to summon your own Internal Dialogue and reshape your immediate condition with words. Those around you will also assist, trust me.

  “I need to stay up with my Team. They need me.” This simple phrase is more important than a PhD in anything.

  “Hey, I need help here. I am exhausted. Help me make it just a little bit further.” You will be surprised how even the toughest men in the toughest conditions will reach out to help. You know why? They, too, really want to remain connected.

  Today I am flying out to do an over-flight of the area we intend to walk through. Some local helicopter squadrons are doing a routine flight near our route, and honestly, I am bored with being in camp. Oddly, I don’t find flying over the area dangerous with just with my rifle and without my platoon. I simply don’t have any fear of dying here. Instead, I have an odd sense of calm … others may die, but not me. This is not founded in any hard and fast truth underlying my thought. Maybe I’m jaded and no longer care. The things I have thought about sometimes are odd. I will not be able to talk with my family until after this next mission. They must be strong and know I am in my element. Although the temps are hotter than fucking hell here, they must know I love them all.

  We met the helos at the airfield and flew for an hour deep into the mountains. I was actually worried because I didn’t fall asleep on this flight. We landed safely in a field, but just as the helos left, we immediately saw headlights of a car moving toward us from the valley miles away. We were moving toward the lights, and the lights were moving toward us. Not a good combination for them, I thought.

  I extended my lead element about 200 yards ahead of the main force. Moving closer, we saw the car had stopped and men were getting out. We could not see them clearly, but our eyes in the sky reported they had AK-47s. The car abruptly moved away from our movement, but someone stayed behind, and the eyes in the sky could not confirm where the men had gone. As the minutes ticked by, we gained ground on the last location of the car and watched the car leaving the valley we were in. All of a sudden, from the direction of the car, we heard machine gun fire.

  My LT confirmed he had also heard the fire, and I suggested we push forward. The men were very alert and doing what we had all trained to do. Nothing to do now but press on.

  We observed a building near the last location of the car. I analyzed the route we needed to take and saw no easy way around the building without exposing the entire patrol. I knew not everyone in the patrol would realize the danger of the building, so I ordered my lead element to immediately secure the building and ensure we were all not walking into a trap. Thank God we all had night vision, because two men were lying in there, looking the other way, waiting for us to walk down the road. Poor, stupid bastards.

  Not a shot was fired when we snuck up on them and decided to bring them along for the ride. We still had three miles to go. I hoped those guys had a good meal, because we weren’t stopping for a snack.

  I do recall the terrain made walking a complete suck-fest. I felt every step of the steep moutainside. Going up was steep, traversing the sides was dangerous, and finally, the going down was steep. At the bottom, Nike again found a river to cross. Water is always a blessing in the heat. As we crossed, I knelt down to get my waist and belly completely wet to cool down. I looked around and noticed everyone else doing the same. I recall thinking, “I do love these men. We all think and do the same things.”

  We approached the final delay point. We were supposed to stop and wait for everyone to close the distance and get ready for the assault, but the view made something painfully clear. The numerous buildings we were sent to clear were all different heights, and they were surrounded by high trees. This meant clearing was going to be far more complicated than our original plan.

  Once we consolidated our forces and had something to drink and eat to ensure we were ready, we began initial clearance of our first compound. The first was the biggest of all the buildings and posed the biggest threat. We snuck in silently, and found men, women, and kids sleeping everywhere. Stepping over sleeping peop
le, walking into rooms, then backing out without waking anyone is a strange experience. The first compound took three minutes to clear, and after waking all the sleeping people, we now had twenty people to manage. I had not truly considered managing that many people in the first building, but life always throws you things to make you laugh. I ordered a squad to stay in compound one, and we continued clearing the other buildings to bring all the people back to the main compound.

  The map study we had done prior to the mission was completely wrong. The shit on the ground, the reality, was confusing as hell—twisted and complicated. After clearing the first four buildings in a twisted maze, we had found forty-five more people sleeping. We delayed further clearance, because taking all these people back to the main compound was very time consuming, and actually very dangerous—at least from my point of view.

  I moved over to Nike and said, “Nike, you and I and Carnie are the only ones up here in the front. The maze behind us is out of control. We are going to wait until the entire squad is back here with us before we move again.”

  Nike replied, “Chief, as long as we don’t shoot, none of these idiots will wake up. I just hope the men can find us again. Hey, let’s have some Copenhagen.”

  I handed him my can, and we sat and watched, saying nothing. The heat was oppressive. Snores of men in the next compound mixed with the sounds of dogs moving around, and maybe the sounds of cows stamping their hooves. In times of combat, the silence is deafeningly loud.

  Time must change, too. I looked at my watch and only five minutes had passed, yet it felt like two hours. I was tired. My feet hurt, my back was aching, and my eyes were tired. However, as we heard the men moving toward us, I flashed them with an IR flashlight. All the pain stopped, and we were back to the clearance.

  Mazes of compounds, sheds, walls, and irrigation ditches got us thoroughly twisted. The map I carried didn’t aid at all to help any of us find where we were exactly. We did know how to get back to the main building, so that eased our pain … somewhat.

  The men continued clearing compounds and shuffling the people back to the main building. My job was deciding which compound would serve as our “castle” for the next two days. We were unable to find a compound that would lend us an tactical advantage, and that pissed me off. We’d already cleared thirteen, and not one would work. The clearance was complete, and I had nothing.

  I called the other platoon chief on the radio and informed him of our predicament. He, in turn, echoed his total displeasure with what he had found on his side of the target area. We had only one hour left until daylight. Problems ‘o plenty!

  I grabbed Nike to move into a shed where we could lay the overview map on the ground to take a look. After some confusion, we were able to trace our route through the maze and find the shed we were in. We located a set of buildings further away from the original clearance compounds that might be perfect. The problem was we only had twenty minutes to clear them before the sun said hello.

  I informed LT we were pressing to a new compound, which would take fifteen minutes to clear. I also said I’d tell him in five if the new site would meet our “castle” needs. He replied with, “Get some.”

  I took eight guys 200 yards across an open field and put ladders up on the walls. Nike, Jake, and I climbed up and saw the people here, too, were still sleeping. My men entered the far side without incident and without shooting a round. Too bad, really, but at least this compound was perfect.

  “LT, we are in building twenty-two. Bring everyone here. Come in the west side. How many unknowns do we have?” I asked.

  “Stand by,” he said. “We have sixty-eight unknowns. I will need three of your guys if we want to get this done by daylight.”

  I replied, “Roger, I will send them now. They are coming along the north side of your building in five minutes. Don’t move until they arrive.”

  “Roger, standing by to receive.”

  We were in a hurry now to reunite with the rest of the platoon, set ourselves up for the ensuing battle, and get the other platoon secured in one of the other compounds further south of us. We had five minutes. Setting up before daylight is actually a self-imposed deadline. Nothing indicated we were in any impending doom scenario, but we all knew our advantage would go away with the night.

  “LT, we need some overhead cover. Call the fires guys back at base and tell them we are in contact and need immediate Apache support. We need at least an hour to set up,” I said over comms to the boss. Why wait? I was thinking.

  I heard him acknowledge and then heard Lawyer get to work on calling in the request. While they worked on air cover, I worked on identifying three positions within our compound that would support our defense. Nike, Jake, and Carnie were put in place when the rest of the platoon, along with several enemy fighters we had rudely awoken to capture, filtered into the back door. With the sun came heat, already 105 degrees and rising. Why would anyone live here?

  I sat next to Carnie while he got his machine gun into position and remarked, “You know those ruby slippers in that Oz movie? I bet if you clicked the heels together and said, ‘I want to go see how people lived when Christ was alive,’ you would be transported right here.” For some reason the thought made me laugh, and writing it now makes me laugh again.

  A cow was tethered in the compound right where the family was sleeping. Chickens were running and shitting everywhere. The kids peed and pooped right where their parents were being questioned about the enemy guys we had captured. The clincher was the family was feeding curdled milk from open buckets to deformed kids sleeping in a little hole in the wall. All the comforts of home, I thought.

  Carnie and I were looking at this when he said, “Thom, next time can we fight in Germany? At least those people have wine and beer, and the country is pretty.” Neither of us laughed. They were existing in literally the most disgusting human condition I have ever seen a family tolerate, let alone live in. Further, nothing we could offer would be what these people would want, or even know how to use.

  I had to remind myself that SEALs are not here to make friends or change lives. We are here to capture enemy, and most of the time, kill them. At least you can respect the enemy. They like to fight, no matter the odds against them. They aren’t very good at it, but they don’t lack in conviction.

  After an hour or so, both platoons were set, and some of us were getting some rest. Now was the long, boring pause before all hell breaks loose. I sarcastically thought how the hot air, bugs, dirt, smell, and half sleep with body armor on all made for happy thoughts and joyous reflections of life in general. I woke ready to shoot someone in the face just for making me be here, instead of not with my family. I sat looking at my muddy boots and a strange looking bug crawling around on them and thought of the movie Gladiator. Russell Crowe says, “I will seek my revenge in this life or the next,” which truly spoke for my mood and desperation at that moment. Stacy need not worry about fear, as it was reshaped to angry disgust.

  Not a single enemy showed up before lunch. What a shame. We continued building up the three positions, resting, and eating. At 3:00 p.m., I again climbed up into a position where Carnie had just relieved Snowman. We sat without talking for a long time, while we both scanned the area looking for the signs of movement … or maybe a trained enemy sniper crawling around getting ready to shoot us. Nothing. After an hour of exhaustive work looking and watching, and more watching, we heard what sounded like a motorcycle. Very faint, but we agreed we heard a small engine. Then, it suddenly stopped.

  I continued using my binos to spot ways some enemy could maneuver in on us and found about 100 different ways. Or, rather, if I were an enemy, I could have gotten close enough to throw a rock. All of a sudden my skin got goosebumps, and I grabbed my rifle, bringing it up to my shoulder to look through the scope. Something was about to happen. I hadn’t seen or heard anything, but goosebumps don’t lie.

  I looked through my scope at a tree close to a wall about 100 yards northeast, and saw a m
an with an RPG turn toward me … and aim … I fired immediately, even as I moved my gun toward him. I saw my bullets impacting on the wall, tracking toward him. With each new trigger squeeze, I realized we were each trying to get better aim on the other. After four rounds, I saw a puff of smoke rise out of the back of the RPG, just as I squeezed off the last round—which hit him in the neck. Then I immediately ducked. Carnie ducked, too, and we smiled at each other as the RPG round sailed ten feet over our heads, and detonated 100 yards south of us. He and I jumped back up and continued firing at the tree and wall the shooter had walked behind.

  Snowman worked on getting air support, while everyone else ran to the ladders and their fighting positions to get in the fight. No one was firing, though. The wait was on, and so was the weird slowing of time for me. What seemed like an hour of nothing turned suddenly into enemy bullets hitting everywhere around Carnie and me. The boys fired from all three positions. All my men were getting eyes on enemy with weapons, who had again moved in on us, without our seeing them.

  Snowman and Ground Launch were now up in the position with Carnie and me. Ground Launch was shooting 40 mm grenades at three enemy in the trees, about 300 yards away. Snowman made jokes about a swarm of bees trying to bite us all: “Chief, I am really allergic to bees. If I get bit, I will probably not be able to breathe within three minutes.”

  “So, go somewhere else then. I don’t have time for this. Kill the bees, leave, or kill the bees and stay,” I hated to be short with him, but I was in a really foul mood. Such is the life of a SEAL chief in combat. Snowman got a bottle of bug spray and a lighter out, and proceeded to burn the bees despite at least five rounds whizzing over his head within five inches. I honestly think he wasn’t as scared of the bullets as he was the bees.

  When he finished killing the bees, he knelt down and looked up at Carnie and me. Carnie said, without cracking smile, “I was about to call your mom.”