Long-Term Tadpole

Here is another excellent story from my, “Have You Ever Been A Tadpole?“ series, asking readers who have been to BUD/S to come forward and share with us their SEAL trainee experiences in Coronado.

I wanted them to share with all of us, their story on not making it through the SEAL training program.

The first response was, “The Quitter“.

The second response, “The Smurf – A BUD/S Story”, gave an interesting “shorter” perspective.

The third response “X-Division – A True Coronado Story”, comes from an individual who wanted to be a SEAL and ended up in the SWCC training program.

The fourth response, “SWAT Officer – I Think About One Failure”, found later success protecting our streets.

The next response comes from someone who spent a total of 14 months as a BUD/S trainee.  A great story with plenty of insight.  Thank you for sharing your story with all of us.

“My journey started freshman year of High School when I decided that being a SEAL was my new goal.  I was a member at NavySEALs.com back when the site was basic and the comshack forum was the place to be for information.  I met a lot of great people there who motivated me to go after my goal, and I did.  In July 2000 I joined the USN and went to boot camp with the SEAL contract. 

The first time I took the screening test at boot camp I failed.  The test was conducted in a pool with no lanes and a bunch of people who should never have been there in the first place.  I spent 500 meters getting kicked in the face, run into and generally blocked from swimming my fastest on every lap.  I missed the time by 3 seconds, I was pissed.  I knew I would get another shot the next week so I positioned myself at the corner and told everyone around me that if they got in my way I would beat their ass in the locker room.  The swim that day was not a problem, and neither was the rest of the screening test.  Out of the 60 or so guys that started I was one of three who passed that day.  Back to boot camp where I did what I needed to graduate, I reached my first hurdle and after a setback, conquered it.  On to GM A-school.

Back in 2000 there was no BUD/S prep except what you did on your own and with the motivators in Great Lakes.  I went to the PT’s a couple times but I honestly struggled in the beginning of A-school academically, did you know GM’s did a bunch of electronics, hydraulics, and pneumatics?  I didn’t.  What I did know is that if I didn’t pass A-school I could lose my trip to BUD/S, and that wasn’t going to happen.  I buckled down and worked hard academically, my PT slacked in the form of going to motivator PT, but I felt I had to prioritize.  I felt my grades were more important than the organized PT at 0400.  My A school class was full of guys in the pipeline, and we all made it into BUD/S, it was nice to know that we would have some friendly faces around when we got to Coronado.  Time passed and four months later, it was time for the last screening prior to executing our orders to BUD/S.  I passed but my scores were nowhere near as high as those guys who got to the motivator PT.  I had made it though, and it was off to Coronado.

I still remember the date, 3FEB01, the day I walked across the BUD/S QD and reported for class 236.  Class 236 did not start INDOC until late March, so I was really early for class up, but I was new to the Navy and didn’t have any leave on the books to speak of.  There were about 12 of us there at first, some rollbacks and those of us who were early.  We fell in behind 235 and were the annoying little brothers who had nowhere else to go so we just tagged along getting beat or sent away.  There are few things in life like the muscle soreness after the first 2 weeks at BUD/S, you can prep but everyone feels it.  After 2 weeks though the muscle pain goes away, you just get used to it.  More guys reported in and INDOC began for class 236. 

Nothing in BUD/S is easy, but INDOC is as easy as it gets on Coronado.  Many of us got our share of ITB tendonitis and other ailments as our bodies got used to the rigors of daily life in BUD/S.  The simple answer was taking some Motrin, drink some water, and carry on.  Nobody wanted to go to medical, we were more afraid of being rolled back by medical than any beating the instructors would dish out.  INDOC was great experience though, those that paid attention at the evolutions learned a lot, especially in the pool.  During PT one day an instructor called everyone from New Jersey out in front.  He wanted to see what his home state had to offer, he then broke things down from North/South, County, and finally town.  I was the only one still standing, turns out he was born and raised 2 miles down the street from me  My name was now officially known by the instructors, yay for me. 

As INDOC came to an end we had our class up party at Pacific Beach.  You would think being a bunch of in shape young guys on the beach with a couple kegs would bring the women flocking.  Nope, total sausage fest.  Cue drunken guys shaving weird patterns and numbers into their heads, on to First Phase.

First Phase started as it does for everyone, a total kick in the nuts.  People started to drop, a couple got injured and were either rolled or dropped.  I was never a fast runner and did not take easily to the runs in the soft sand South of the compound.  I got to spend a significant amount of time in the Goon Squad because of this.  I even earned a Burger King crown one day for being the King of the Goon Squad.  One day I woke up and my legs hurt more than usual, I took my Motrin and carried on.  By mid-week I could barely keep up during the BUD/S shuffle to chow.  I could not walk up the stairs without severe pain, I knew something was seriously wrong, but I refused to see medical.  After Hell Week I would go, my mindset was brown shirts got rolled, white shirts got dropped.  By that Friday I couldn’t keep up on anything and one of the Corpsman students in the class checked my legs.  He was pretty certain it was stress fractures, and we had a 4 mile run to end our week.  During that run I faced my toughest and most rewarding run at BUD/S.

The run started and I was left in the proverbial dust by the class.  I was limping along and looked every bit of broke that I was.  The First Phase LCPO was driving the chase vehicle, and halfway to the rocks in front of the Hotel Del Coronado it began.  I was told about every single one of my weaknesses, how I was failing my team, every painful step was met with another mental assault.  Soon the bed of the pick-up truck began to fill with Instructors.  The sound of bull horns filled my ears, by the turn around point I felt like the lowest form of being.  I kept on running, I was going to finish that run, whatever it took.  By the time I made it back to the rocks, the negativity had changed, now encouragement had taken its place.  I was being motivated by a truck bed full of First Phase Instructors to catch the guy in front of me and finish the run.  With about 3/4 of a mile left a couple instructors got out of the truck and started running with me.  The encouragement grew as I pushed to the finish.  Over the line I collapsed and began crawling towards the surf, I finished the run in 36 minutes, time to join the Goon Squad and take my rightful place as their King.  I was stopped and checked by the Phase Corpsman, he told me to be at medical Monday morning, or he would break my legs by jumping the low wall on the O-course until the snapped.  As I got up to return to the class, an Instructor grabbed me and said that was the most motivating final mile of a run he had seen in his time as an Instructor.  That was a proud moment for me.

Monday morning came, and we had 0500 PT, since medical didn’t open until 0700 I got one last beating with class 236 before I was certain to be rolled or dropped.  I got plenty of personal attention, but I survived and went to medical.  The diagnosis, bi-lateral tibial stress fractures.  Both legs had multiple cracks and my recovery time was set at 4 months, the decision to drop or roll had come back from the instructors.  I had earned my spot at BUD/S, I was allowed to stay.

For the next 4 months I did physical therapy trying to keep my cardio level and plenty of upper body PT.  I was a push up and pull up monster, my running still struggled as I recovered, but I wasn’t going to ask for more time, I wanted back in to class.  I watched my friends in 236 complete Hell Week and move on through training, I watched 237 class up and go on to finish Hell Week as well.  My time in roll back land was productive though.  I learned a lot from the brown shirt roll backs, and was able to be ahead of the game for my next class, 238.

September 11, 2001.  I was in the chow hall finishing breakfast when I saw a group standing around a TV on the wall.  I walked over and asked what happened, as I was told a plane hit the WTC we saw the second plane hit.  We all knew at that point it was not an accident, moments later an Instructor walked in and sent us all back to the compound.  We waited for updates and were brought to the beach.  An instructor got on the PT podium and told us the updates, that we were under attack and war was imminent.  If our resolve to become a SEAL, to fight for our country was not absolute, leave now.  No one left just then, but the next morning 2 guys were gone from the muster.

It was in class 238 that my motivation took its first major hit.  Class 238 was the Hooyah class for 236, there I was, and watching many of my friends graduate as I stood in my white shirt.  It was tough emotionally to think about how if it wasn’t for my injuries I could have been done with BUD/S.  It was time to get back to work though, and class 236 was now only a memory.  I had been at BUD/S for 9 months now, I was known by every instructor and I paid the price for being known.  After a couple weeks of INDOC and getting ready to enter First Phase again the all familiar pain in my legs began to return.  I knew what it meant but I pushed on towards Hell Week.  The pain grew as the weeks passed, I found it more and more difficult to shut the pain out.  With pain came other negative thoughts that I now battled.

I was tired, tired of the pain, the beatings, and the guys who didn’t put out.  The weekend we went on lock down for Hell Week I got some intelligence from my roll back buddies.  They didn’t have to be in until Sunday night, to me that meant Hell Week wasn’t going to start until then.  All day Friday, Saturday, and Sunday was spent sitting around the tents and classroom.  I had cut a chair out in the berm with my paddle and sat there overlooking the surf.  There was plenty of time to think about what was coming.  It was in that dwell time that I had my first thoughts about quitting, I needed to get active but there was nothing to do, and nowhere to go.  Not the best way to start a Hell Week.  Then Hell Week began, the boat crews got changed and I got stuck in a crappy one.  My coxswain was a weak leader, other guys cried about their chaffing and other minor ailments, I hit my limit, and I was done.

I got up and walked out of the surf, annoyed.  I was about to quit and it was not because I couldn’t do something, or something was to tough, it was in spite for those around me.  I was tired of BUD/S, I rang out and left the beach.  After a couple days the Command Master Chief met with everyone who quit asking why.  I told him it was my maturity.  I had lost the will to be there, not because of me, but because of those around me.  It was immature to think that way, it was Hell Week, in a couple of days it was likely those same guys wouldn’t be in the class anymore.  I knew it, but I was tired of the game, being young with 11 months in BUD/S as a white shirt will do that.

I went to X-div and got orders to 9545 (Security) school and Keflavik Iceland, I would be there for 18 months.  While there I got in trouble and went to NJP, my chances to return to BUD/S got dim.  I could still see the light and I worked hard to get back in the commands good graces and earn a recommendation back to BUD/S, luckily I got it.  The dive motivator came to Iceland and tested the candidates, I failed the run, badly.  I was spending my time at the indoor track and we completed the test outside in the very cold air.  I should have seen it coming and prepared, but I didn’t, lesson learned.  I worked my ass off and changed my training to include running outside in the cold.  I passed the test and got my orders, this time for Class 249, I was going back to Coronado.

I arrived back in September of 2003, when I reported in to the PTRR office I saw some familiar faces.  Many of the Instructors were still there, and they remembered me.  My experience was used by the instructors as demonstrator for the new class.   It felt good to be back and my experience as a BUD/S student helped my class get squared away.

Then it happened, Thursday out on the O-course I was told to pass 10 people in front of me or endure a personalized beating.  I slammed my knee slipping on the high wall, I limped my way through the course and met my goal but the damage had been done.  Like before I wasn’t going to medical, I pressed on.  After all I only had to complete Friday to get a weekend of rest.  Friday morning we are told that we will be taking the screening test, those who fail will be dropped from the class.  With a knee the size of a grapefruit and restricted movement I tried my best.  I failed the run by 6 seconds.

I stood on the grinder in my dress whites alongside the others who had failed.  One by one each person entered the performance board and left, dropped and being put on the black list of those students not invited to return.  Finally it was my turn, when I entered the process was explained and if I had any questions.  I was interviewed about my previous BUD/S history and what happened.  I explained my reasons for skipping medical and pressing on.  The final question was did I deserve to stay in training.  I told the board that BUD/S is the standard, if someone did not meet the standard I don’t want to work with them, and if I don’t meet the standard I don’t expect anyone to want to work with me.  No, I didn’t deserve to stay, even injured I should have passed the test.  I was sent back out to standby on the grinder where I waited what seemed like forever.  When I was called back in I was told that I was being dropped but I had an invitation to return.  I thanked the board and informed them I would not be returning to BUD/S.  I had destroyed my body in this pursuit and things had not worked out.  I will pursue success in another way.

In total I had spent about 14 months assigned to the Naval Special Warfare Center as a trainee.  It was the experience of a lifetime and I learned many lessons that carry forward to this day.  I have many heart wrenching, painful, and downright hilarious stories from my time in BUD/S.  I wouldn’t trade them for anything.

Reality Check

No one goes to BUD/S with the intention of quitting or failing.  Everyone there has put in the work to make it to Coronado, and that in and of itself is an accomplishment.  There will be those who try to take this accomplishment away from you.  Think of the thousands who test but will never get to BUD/S.  There are those who have never gone but they will talk down to you because you did go and not graduate. 

For those who go, but don’t graduate, you must make peace with this.  Becoming a SEAL is not the only measure of success in naval service, or life.  For years I struggled with the fact that I did not become a SEAL.  I was not always truthful in why I didn’t make it.  I can count on 1 hand the number of guys I’ve run into over the last 13 years who said “I quit”.  Everyone claims being a med-drop or admin-drop, anything other than someone who quit.

Until you can make peace with the fact that you quit, you cannot move on.  It will be hard, but if you quit, own it.  When someone asks what happened, tell them the truth.  In time you will find that BUD/S does not define your entire life, it is only a chapter.  Take the lessons of BUD/S, apply them to your job, whether you stay in or get out and you can succeed. 

This fact was hammered home during my last deployment when I provided security for a Joint Special Operations Task Force and had a SOCM who addressed my team on arrival.  He told us that being a badass has nothing to do with what is on your chest.  Being a badass is taking on every job your assigned, regardless of what it is and doing your best.  That makes you a badass. 

For those of you with aspirations of becoming a SEAL, be prepared for the journey of a lifetime.  Whether you make it or not, you will experience things that few others have.  Remember, finding fulfillment in life is not about the insignia you wear, it is about the life you live.”