AS MUCH AS TECHNOLOGY HAD CHANGED IN THE YEARS since I first saw those “bikers” heading out to the gun range, the SEALs’ ability to function in the field is unchanged. And it was tied to their trigger finger. If you’re an adversary and you are not compliant, there are ways of making you comply. Even if you are resistant, you can be “persuaded.” But if you’re a clear and present threat in any environment where SEALs are functioning, you will die in a hurry.
I cannot emphasize enough how, in the mind of every SEAL in combat or working a sensitive operation, rapid calculations are always going on. This is true of police officers as well, whenever they enter a house or answer a 911 call. The difference is that for police, there may be danger, possibly mortal danger. For SEALs, that’s a given. And we must react accordingly. What goes through our minds is a brutally fast, instinctual threat/non-threat analysis, and it boils down to this one idea: Is that potential target presenting himself as a threat? Honing this ability to a razor’s edge quite literally takes thousands of hours of training in a “Kill House” training facility. There, SEALs learn to be aware not only of potential hostiles but of each other. One of the great tragedies of any engagement is what the navy calls “blue on blue,” inadvertent fratricide: the accidental killing of a brother. Those extremely long hours—often with no sleep, since you may find yourself in a combat or escape situation where sleep is not possible—are imperative to the survival of every SEAL and those at his side.
An example. We’re all aware, now, of how the team took out Osama bin Laden in the bold compound raid in Pakistan on May 2, 2011. That is the perfect example of the lightning-fast “threat/no threat” calculation. If we allow that just being around the terror mastermind was not in itself a crime, you have a situation where you have to decide: Who is a threat? Who is an innocent? Who is at the wrong place at the wrong time?
Bin Laden presented himself as a threat and they took the shot and killed him. I can tell you with certainty, the man who pulled that trigger was so well trained that he never even thought about it until after bin Laden was dead. Yet there were many others in the walled compound who were not shot. It is a supreme credit to those guys on the ground there that zero civilians were killed during a high-adrenalin operation.
But frankly, the way the raid and those who were on it were talked about makes me a little uneasy. I’ve said it before and I’ll certainly say it again: Too much media attention on current SEAL operations—from magazine articles to Hollywood films—is a booby-trapped gift, a necklace with a sharp, rusty edge. In the case of bin Laden, disclosure of which unit was responsible came from the top. On a raid of that magnitude, once the media is given a little light, they will pursue it right down to who pulled the trigger. And they did. I don’t judge those who were on the mission for deciding to put the record straight, but I do take issue with administration policies that are more about taking the credit than keeping America and our forces safe. More recently, senior officials have tipped the media on special operations while they were still on the target! Sure, the taxpayer has a right to know and America sleeps better knowing that we have capable forces on watch to protect us. But the military and civilian leadership has the responsibility to protect the forces who are assigned the difficult mission as well. Tactics should be protected so that disclosure does not jeopardize any current future operations. Yes, the story should be told but only after it is vetted and well after the fact.
The glamorization is understandable but inaccurate. People forget how tough the job is when you’re not on a mission, when you’re just training. You’re not fast-roping from choppers every day. There’s a certain grind to it. Worst of all, being a SEAL means a lot of time away from your family, leaving them to wonder where you are and how you are, and the divorce rate is really high. The number of days deployed remains well over two hundred, and that—that— is the real job. The job most civilians and journalists don’t know about. The SEAL community is tight, but let me tell you, there is a world of sadness in the community. Not just the long hours and physical taxation, not just the time away from loved ones, not just the reality of the hazards you face. There’s also an ever-present sadness over how many SEALs we’ve lost, of how many husbands and young fathers and only sons we’ve lost. There is also the strain of being deployed so many days a year. What is normal and what is not? Guys returning from overseas are wound tight when they come home, as being in war is now the norm.
I extol beyond all measure service to country. But, Lord, I never said it comes without a price.
The first time was as an instructor, and the second was as an executive officer. I’ve mentioned that the majority of my SEAL career was spent either conducting operations in a SEAL team or training young SEALs at either Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL (BUD/S) training or the Advanced Training Command, which I was a founding plank owner, meaning I was one of the men there when it was created. I would have to say being an instructor was the most enjoyable.
I was able to influence SEAL training the most when I was an executive officer of Naval Special Warfare Center. I ran the basic and advanced training command in Coronado, as well as the sixteen different training locations, each of which had its own set of missions and environments. A lot of what I was doing was creating and applying standards, such as where, how, and at what level SEALs should train; who should be responsible for each phase of training; and what standards of skills SEALs should possess when they are deemed ready for war.
At the time I took it over in 2001, a lot of this training was pretty patchwork. Training programs are like that; you discover what you need as you go along and add it, without a whole lot of attention being paid to the best way of putting it all together. But the changing nature of warfare meant that SEAL teams and their counterparts would increasingly be working together, and would be working with other military assets as well. Joint operations involving SEALs were becoming more common, and the mission got more challenging.
Bringing cohesion to all of these operations meant applying at least some standards to weapons and communications operations, as well as reporting formats for intelligence operations, especially if our pegs of intelligence would be filling the holes—square, round, and otherwise—of other commands.
Initially, everyone learns the same elements: learn your positions; learn the weapons systems; learn the basic skills. But officers quickly have a bunch of other considerations added to their drills. They are required to know what training and equipment their men will need for a variety of situations, what the rules of engagement for various situations are, what support systems will be needed and how to coordinate them, and a variety of advanced tactics and longer-range planning.
A SEAL officer may not be the one leading the charge, but he’s going to have to be able to see the breadth of the battlefield, as opposed to just his specific part. The demands for greater communication and coordination on the battlefield were increasing and the skill set to plan complex operations required more training. His men have to know that if they’re focused on kicking in a door, the officer is mapping their physical position and momentum, where the medical support elements are, how far out the extraction units are, and whatever the next command call on the mission execution checklist is. Those aren’t considerations door kickers should have cluttering their mind if they’re going to perform their own tasks to the best of their ability. It’s like being a conductor in a band: each player has a role and all must work in concert.
While I didn’t create it, I am a big fan of one of the exercises that tests SEALs’ abilities to quickly assess the threat level of a situation. That would be the hooded box drill—which is exactly as grim as it sounds. In it, the SEAL is brought into a room with a hood over his head. The room is padded, which means if he chooses to fight, he can. The hood is lifted, and he’s presented with an immediate scenario—an advancing person, a retreating person, someone without a gun, two people, low visibility, or any combination of these—and the SEAL has to quickly determine how to react.
In a variation on this, a small tactical element is led into the room—an officer and a few enlisted men. They’re then presented with a scenario and stress is induced, and the instructors watch to see what choices the officer makes under pressure, and how the enlisted men follow his instructions.
While instructors watch every aspect of the drill, they’re usually paying special attention to the relationship between the officer and his men—whether the unit operates with cohesion or as individuals, what determination the officer makes about close-quarter battle and fields of fire, and generally how that officer reacts to stress while commanding. And yes, sometimes the “right” answer is not to engage at all.
When would-be SEALs graduate BUD/S, their journey is just beginning. The clay has only just been made, not yet formed. They’re going to receive layers of advanced, and very expensive, training. When I was running training, the cost for just basic training for a single SEAL graduate was over a million dollars. Coupled with the cost of advanced training in weapons and explosives, it’s no wonder the obligation of service is fifty-two months after receiving a Trident. For a SEAL unit, it takes as long as five years before the member has the requisite amount of training and experience to assume a leadership role.
All too shortly after they’ve been in the field, they’ll have to start giving back to the program by training the next generation of SEALs. Technology advances quickly, and the value experienced SEALs can offer younger trainers is drawn from their experience, which those younger SEALs can then apply to the advanced systems they’ll be training on.
Even the nature of what a SEAL does has changed. In my case, there was a psychological buffer. That is, I spent most of my time preparing for the possibility of war, preparing others for that possibility, considering and examining theoretical future requirements, making sure equipment was available and that it would be appropriate for new tactics and procedures, and then and only then dealing with the occasional skirmish. SEALs today have entered their service in a time of war, a war that will no doubt be with us for decades. They are much more likely to spend their entire career being deployed in dangerous situations where there are active enemies. You enter that training today with a different edge: the enemy has a face and a mission, and more than ever before a SEAL must be ready to fight and win.
That’s not the only change new SEALs are facing. Modern warfare has become more complex: SEALs need to be able to integrate weapons systems in an asymmetrical battle environment. A SEAL candidate today would have a great deal of difficulty succeeding without being computer literate. In an earlier era, that would not have been a defining skill, but today SEALs have to have the sort of intelligence that allows them to quickly grasp these systems.
There’s one more major change between yesterday’s and today’s SEALs, and I sometimes wonder if it handcuffs one of our most valuable fighting assets. We’re asking these highly trained warfare specialists to operate within the confines of political correctness, in a zero-tolerance environment for many things that weren’t even considered punitive a few years ago.
Frankly, that’s a very dangerous enemy.
The pursuit of political correctness does not allow honest mistakes. A SEAL can now get busted for a single drinking incident, even if it’s a birthday or some other major life event celebration. There’s been a change to what constitutes an infraction in the way men and women interact. Obviously, I’m not talking about any sort of sexual misconduct. I am talking about “perceived” misconduct. SEALs are trained about the rules of engagement in warfare, and the same basic humanity is expected for interpersonal interactions.
But there’s a difference between decency and basic human behavior and the minefield that now makes up over-sensitized interactions. Highly trained warriors aren’t going to be all things—diplomats, intelligence agents, lovers, and killers rolled into one—and the very inclinations and skills that make them excellent military assets come with a cost. I keep hearing of wanting to create “the whole” man concept and pre-screen candidates based on a mortality test. Duty, honor, country—I think that is enough.
War is inherently brutal, and it’s also unfortunately very unforgiving. It’s not pretty when you err on the side of caution and your side—your team, your friends, your country—takes a hit. Expecting a spoonful of sugar in every setting, on every occasion, from the greatest war technicians the world has ever seen, is unrealistic.
Having said that, the nature of people trying out for SEALs changed between when I was a trainee and when I became an executive officer. Back in the 1980s, SEAL candidates had still been influenced by members of the Greatest Generation—those men and women who instilled the beliefs of getting ahead by working hard, having commitment, conforming to the system, and climbing gradually up the ladder of success. It is the classic Protestant work ethic. While you were supposed to function as a member of a team, you were ultimately responsible for your own successes and failures. There was no such thing as social promotion and affirmative action. You got ahead because you deserved to get ahead. Period.
The newer generations of SEAL candidates are different. Call them x-generation or millennials; they are different. There is that awareness of ever-present war, as I said. They still work hard, and they still are highly motivated and embrace a lot of essential skills, but they are less willing to take responsibility for their own actions. If they smoke—and I actually have heard this—it’s the fault of the tobacco companies for putting their product where, by golly, you see it and just have to try it and find out what the fuss is about. First Lady Nancy Reagan took a lot of guff for her allegedly simplistic “Just Say No” campaign about drugs, but what was wrong with that? What happened to individual backbone? I’ve actually been around SEALs who guzzle sugared, caffeinated sodas, but then beg off when a cracker has gluten. We bring our backgrounds and upbringing with us, wherever we go, and when the military shoulders uniformity aside to make room for personal expression, the entire purpose of a unit, a platoon, a squadron, goes out the window. Just look at the squabbles that go on in the locker rooms of professional sports because “m-e” have become the dominant letters in “team.”
Today’s SEALs are groomed in school to be more community oriented, but that also means the community is somehow responsible for their personal wrongs. At a recent high school graduation I attended, there were twenty-four valedictorians. Everyone who had an A average was a valedictorian regardless of curriculum. There are schools that count culinary arts as a science just to keep moving the kids through a broken system. The schools have promoted that everyone is a winner and everyone is to receive a participation award. A downside to community-based thinking is that it is difficult to hold anyone accountable for group action. And, of course, if you’re part of a desired demographic, you’re given a do-over when you screw up. That’s just wrong.
In fact, look around you. Today’s younger generations are practically programmed to expect second chances. When they don’t measure up, they go into a litany: “I’ve had a chance to think about what happened. I know what my successes and failures were. I’ve accepted feedback and conducted self-criticism to learn to be better, and I am ready to go back and be the best possible candidate. So when can I start again?” They have all the right phrases but all the wrong actions.
Fortunately, there is still one place where there is a hard line drawn. When a SEAL trainee rings that bell three times, there are no second chances. You don’t get to dry off, sleep, and eat, while your fellow candidates are still pushing themselves, and then have seller’s remorse. I’ve gotten a lot of blank stares in disbelief when I’ve told candidates that they’re not coming back into the program they just left, because in many cases it’s the first time in their lives they’ve not been given a second chance.
What’s amazing is they had to have known this was the case going in. For all I’m complaining about this aspect of today’s SEAL candidates, they also are superior to previous generations in terms of their ability to use technology and gather information. They have the opportunity to be the best classes of SEALs ever, especially regarding the intelligence-gathering functions, and they cut the ground out from under themselves by not taking personal responsibility. The world is moving faster and this generation is moving with it. Where my generation saw learning basic tactics as critical, the new generation values innovation and speed. In today’s world of technology, the ability to rapidly leverage the cutting edge gives you the advantage.
In fact, the newest SEALs’ entire generation has the potential to be the next greatest generation. They are less rigid in thinking, can adapt to changing technology, and don’t like to be told what to do. The last part is embedded into their American DNA and may be their greatest asset. The drive toward innovation and the ability to “think out of the box” runs square in the face against big government and centralized control.
The few who get through the program are exceptional, and I don’t want to see any lessening of its standards based on either physical or attitudinal shortcomings.
Some wise person—I wish I could remember who; maybe it was one of my history teachers—once pointed out to me that before the American Civil War, citizens used to say, when referring to this country, “The United States are …” After the Civil War, recovering slowly from the pain that we had perhaps inevitably inflicted on ourselves, citizens began to say, when referring to this country, “The United States is …”
It’s a subtle difference but a significant one. The crucible of combat, that left no state unscathed, had hammered us for the first time into a true union. A collection of states “are.” A nation “is.”
I thought of that idea often during my time playing sports and training to be a SEAL. We all went from “are” to “is,” from individuals to a unit. The benefit of that is not just apparent in combat. As I’ve said elsewhere, it makes you a permanent member of that group. Everyone who comes after you will do essentially what you did, will meet a lot of the people you know, will go through the same physical and emotional transformation you endured. It’s like an athlete watching a game he used to play or a dancer going to the ballet. It’s in your blood; you get it in your brain, heart, and soul.
My point here is that even though I am retired, there is not a news story about SEALs that doesn’t get me where I live. As you might imagine, one of those towers high over all the others.
I want to talk about that because of the impact a handful of good men and an incredible support structure made on the world.
A lot has been written about, talked about, and debated about the SEAL team raid that took down one of the most hunted individuals in history: Osama bin Laden. Most of you already know the general facts of the mission.
I want to take a fresh look at that, not only because I have heard some fascinating details from SEAL friends but because it is a master class that illustrates a lot of the qualities, attitudes, and skill sets I have been talking about. Even though I wasn’t there, I know what it took to succeed—both the mission and the terror leader. Meaning, no disrespect, the word that keeps coming to mind—even today, when I hear about it or read about it or talk about that event—is:
Jesus. There was a huge amount on the line that day, and I am grateful to God for the help in completing that mission.
The crew of the team knew that this was the real deal when they got the order to load out and be ready for the mission. From the countless many who had joined the military since 9/11, to the tens of thousands who had attempted to become SEALs, to the roughly 2,500 active SEALs in Special Operations Command, these guys were the “A” team, the proverbial best of the best. And finally, after ten long years they were chosen to get not only a high value target (HVT), but The HVT.
Many different versions of the events that unfolded have been written. That’s understandable. In the fog of war, people perceive things differently. From different perspectives, people see and hear things differently. Thanks to the rush of adrenalin that turns every moment into a lifetime, people remember things differently.
What is not disputed in any version is that SEAL team had been flown to a compound in Abbottabad, Pakistan, to kill or capture bin Laden. Members of the team believed they were going on a one-way mission whether they killed him or not.
The mission started off inauspiciously when they crash-landed one of their helicopters in the compound outside, barely surviving the infiltration (infil). The element of surprise they so desperately needed was now at risk. As the team piled from the downed helicopter, they knew they had to move quickly and efficiently to “clear” the compound and locate their target. Their satellite intel told them that if bin Laden was there he would be in the main house, likely on the top floor, where images had been seen of a tall man dressed in robes pacing the roof.
Like a finely tuned machine, they quickly and methodically moved through the area. The team was on the ground with only one objective. You wreck an aircraft just outside the target area, the enemy is going to know you’re there. The occupants of the compound were now clearly awake and waiting for them. All enemy firepower would be in hand, and any traps like mines or blinding flash-bang grenades rigged to doors would already be set. There was no backup, no air support, no nothing. The only thing that separated the members of SEAL team from a six-foot hole were they themselves.
They cleared the outlying buildings in the compound surrounding the main house and killed the sole male occupant of the smaller structure, who had demonstrated hostile intent rather than submission. They secured the women and children easily and safely.
The door to the main house was blown open and they were then immediately running upstairs through the home where bin Laden was believed to reside. Three men, single file, weaving their way up the stairs. The years of training and developing tactics, techniques, and procedures paid off. Every rifle covering a different direction, as the counterattack could come from anywhere. Surprising thing is, in many ways your brain checks out at times like these. You aren’t a pack animal; lions and wolves don’t have compassion. SEALs do. They must if they’re going to live with themselves post-mission. But you are running on muscle memory, sensory input, and threat/non-threat instinct. That’s the entirety of who and what you are at that moment.
Sensory input—it’s more than just seeing, hearing, smelling, touching, even tasting. (Certain kinds of fuses, powder, and metal actually make an impression on the tongue without ever coming into contact with it.) It’s about a thousand or so stimuli assaulting your body.
Which matter? Which don’t? Is that a guy sweating with fear around the corner, or just someone who hasn’t showered? Was that meal cooked on a hot plate, is there an aura of “burn” around it, or was it brought in from somewhere else? Are those dogs or children whimpering? Is that shadow a crouching target or a pile of clothes?
All of that—every particle of input—is being processed and used or discarded as you move.
Threat/non-threat.
Laser sights move through the area constantly, with team members’ trigger fingers resting lightly on the edge of the trigger guards to avoid accidental discharge, yet ensure maximum speed and efficiency. They scan 360 degrees of the house that is now a battlefield.
Thousands of hours of training, millions of dollars spent on each human “asset,” and it comes down to a moment in time. A second—if that. A face appears behind a door above them in the stairway. All that can be seen is that the individual is a tall male looking down the stairway directly at them from behind the entrance to the room. They cannot see his hands or body, but must assume he is armed and dangerous. That doesn’t necessarily mean a gun; it could be a knife, an explosive vest, a hostage—anything.
Let me tell you what the lead man was feeling right then. All of those guys were pretty amped, and if there weren’t the possibility that bin Laden had been armed, if he would have been very complacent, I think we would have had a live bin Laden in Guantanamo Bay. We could have interrogated him. But these guys, when you’re a fighting force—emphasis on the “fighting”—I cannot overemphasize not only the need but the ability of them to make a decision. When you get in that close proximity to your target, and your training quickly starts peeling back the options, you’re left only with threat/non-threat.
We know the answer to that.
Controlled shots taken by the lead man in the group within milliseconds of processing the single thought.
The bullets hit the intended target within inches of one another.
The threat was neutralized.
Bin Laden was no more.