and on foot. We had fired thousands of rounds through our vast arsenal
of weapons, until we could do so with the highest degree of accuracy
while under substantial pressure. We had trained for hundreds of hours,
iteration after iteration, drill after drill, until we could operate not just as
a group of individuals, but as a team—a synchronized machine,
maneuvering with precision and efficiency through the challenges of
chaotic battlefields.
As SEALs, we kept ourselves in peak physical condition so that we
could execute tough missions and meet the extreme physical demands of
combat. We did hundreds of pull-ups and push-ups, ran for miles, lifted
heavy weights, swam long distances in the open ocean—all to prepare
for combat. During our training cycle, in the precious few hours we
didn’t have a scheduled training evolution, we were in the gym
physically pushing ourselves through punishing, high-intensity
workouts. If there was no gym at our training location, we’d be out on
the road for a hard run, in the parking lot dragging or flipping heavy
tires, or on the mats in fierce grappling and jiu-jitsu contests—whatever
we could do to stay strong and conditioned. Each man was expected to
maintain that high level of physical conditioning so that he could pull his
weight and never falter on an operation. We had to be ready to carry a
wounded comrade in full, heavy combat gear to safety across rugged
terrain. As a critical part of our culture, we constantly challenged each
other to tests of physical strength.
We also had some of the best gear in the world: encrypted radios,
night-vision goggles, infrared lasers, lights and markers, uniform Kevlar
vests and helmets. In the hands of operators who knew how to use this
gear, the tactical advantage over the enemy was huge.
* * *