The Only Easy Day Was Yesterday!
—BUD/S motto, Naval Special Warfare, www.sealchallenge.navy.mil/seal/default/aspx (accessed December 9, 2009)
To begin to appreciate the level of skills and training possessed by Michael Murphy and his teammates, we’ll need to take a look at his SEAL training.* The newly commissioned Ensign Michael Murphy reported to Naval Special Warfare Command, located at the Naval Amphibious Base in Coronado, California, and began thirty months of the most brutal training of any military unit in the world. Having arrived safely, he called his mother. He knew that 75 to 80 percent of those beginning BUD/S training do not finish. He also knew that the training was not designed to build a superior physically trained individual, but rather a member of a warrior culture with relentless drive to fight and win as a team—someone who would rather die than quit.
Despite the brutal training, Michael soon realized that almost anyone could meet the physical requirements of the SEALs, but the unending challenge from day one would be the mental toughness, that never-ending inner drive that pushes you forward when every nerve and muscle fiber in your body tells you to stop—to quit. That warrior mind-set—the mental toughness—is what separates a Navy SEAL from any other airman, seaman, soldier, or Marine, regardless of their level of training.
Michael Murphy had prepared for two years to get there. As a commissioned Navy officer, he completed his training alongside his fellow officers and enlisted men, although as an officer he was held to a higher standard. The men trained and suffered together in a ritual that built both a warrior and a warrior bond that united enlisted, junior, senior, and flag officers into a close, very tight-knit community that most people never realize exists or understand. The complete mental rewiring that takes place makes you understand that your teammates are more important than you.
Michael Murphy, and all of his classmates, were volunteers and could quit at any time. If a trainee quit, he had to return to the fleet for a minimum of eighteen months before he could return to BUD/S—but only if he had demonstrated potential and had been recommended for a second attempt.
Indoctrination Course (Indoc)
On day one, at 4:30 AM, Ensign Murphy joined the rest of his BUD/S teammates in Class 235 at the swimming pool, known officially as the Combat Training Tank (CTT), located along Guadalcanal Road. The class arrived to roll and put away the pool covers and string the lane markers. At 5:00 AM, he stood on the cool concrete that surrounded the CTT in nothing but his canvas Underwater Demolition Team (UDT) swim trunks. Soaking wet from a cold shower, he and his classmates sat in rows in bobsled fashion, chests to backs, to conserve body heat. Their military duffel bags, containing the few items they were permitted to bring, were beside them and separated each row of students.
As the instructor arrived, the class leader yelled, “Feet!” and all immediately sprang to attention, shivering in the cold. Each row of students made up a boat crew of seven trainees.
“Drop!” commanded the instructor, and all scrambled for a piece of the concrete in a fully extended push-up position. “Push ’em out!” The class counted out twenty push-ups and returned to the fully extended position.
“Push ’em out!” The class again counted out twenty push-ups before hearing the same command for yet another twenty push-ups. After sixty push-ups the class instructor left them in the fully extended position as they all tried to shift their position to relieve the intense burning in their arms.
“Seats!” All sat on the cool concrete.
BUD/S training is separated into three phases, each phase designed to build on the skills of the previous one. First Phase is the conditioning phase. It is followed by Second Phase, diving, and Third Phase, weapons and tactics. However, before Ensign Murphy and his classmates reached First Phase, they had to complete the five-week Indoctrination Course, during which they learned the rules and protocols of BUD/S training—how to conduct themselves at the pool, how to perform at the obstacle course, and how to handle their small inflatable boats in the rough Pacific surf. They learned SEAL culture and began to internalize the ethos of the warrior. Every training evolution, whether PT or academic, was evaluated in some manner and every student’s performance closely monitored by the Academic/Performance Review Board, a committee of three BUD/S instructors. Failure to live up to the standards resulted in the student being held back, called a rollback, to the next class, or even a quick trip back to the fleet or his previous assignment.
Although every man present successfully completed the BUD/S Physical Screening Test (PST) prior to his arrival, each had to pass it again. The PST consisted of:
1. A five-hundred-yard swim using the breaststroke or sidestroke in 12:30
2. A minimum of forty-two push-ups in two minutes
3. A minimum of fifty sit-ups in two minutes
4. A minimum of six dead-hang pull-ups
5. A mile-and-a-half run in 11:30 wearing combat boots and long pants
After successfully completing the PST, only two things could remove a student from Indoctrination, or Indoc: a request to quit, known as drop on request (DOR); or failing the comprehensive psychological examination. After completing the PST, all successful students ran two miles to the chow hall. After breakfast, they ran two miles back and continued their training.
During Indoc, students underwent a physical training regimen designed to build solid, well-trained bodies, especially the upper body. The upper-body exercises of choice were pull-ups and push-ups with varying degrees of difficulty. Special emphasis was placed on the abdominal muscles. Here, the exercises of choice were sit-ups, crunches, log sit-ups, and flutter kicks. The students learned early that it paid to be a winner. Those who were not winners were losers and gained the unwanted attention of the instructors in the form of more cold water (ocean), sand, push-ups, pull-ups, sit-ups, and obstacle course (O-course) runs.
While in Indoc, the trainees lived in small, often-cramped barracks. Just as each BUD/S training phase was built on the previous one, each day in Indoc was more intense than the previous one. Each day began at 5:00 AM at the CTT. After a two-hour pool evolution, the trainees were ordered into their fatigue pants and shoes. Fully dressed, they were ordered back into the pool. Though they were cold and wet, they ran the two miles to chow and then back again to continue their day’s training.
The Indoc trainees ran twelve miles a day just to eat and return. They lived on the run and were always cold and wet. At the training center they were ordered into the cold Pacific surf several times a day, then ordered to roll in the sand. Cold, wet, and sandy—that was everyday life for a BUD/S trainee. While the instructors may have seemed cruel and insensitive and at times even brutal, they knew that building spirit and character, both individually and as a class, was essential to the success of the SEAL trainees.
At the CTT the trainees learned that the water is what separates the SEALs from all other special operations forces. For most special operators, the water is an obstacle; for the SEALs, it is their sanctuary. The trainees learned buoyancy control and how to swim more like a fish than a human. They mastered breathing techniques and how to use their arms to make themselves longer in the water, which added balance.
The men in Michael’s class completed their training in very modest surroundings. The classroom was a single large concrete-block room with pale yellow paint, a concrete floor, long, narrow wooden tables with unpadded chairs, and a large retractable projection screen centered on the front wall behind a slightly elevated platform and podium. Many times during classroom instruction, the students were ordered into the surf and sand and then sent back to the classroom for the remainder of the training evolution. Calisthenics and other physical training are conducted on the “grinder,” a thick square area of asphalt just outside the classroom door. On the asphalt about three feet apart the numbers one through fifty were painted in yellow, designating a position for each student. During multiple twenty-repetition calisthenics, the students again were ordered into the surf and sand and then returned to the grinder to complete their evolutions. With PT completed, the class set out on a four-mile conditioning run in the soft sand, during which they were directed back into the surf several times. None of the training evolutions was designed to punish the trainees; instead, each was designed to teach a specific skill that will be needed when the men became Navy SEALs.
During the second week of Indoc, the class began inflatable boat, small (IBS) training. Here they learned to work together as a boat crew. The IBS was a 13-foot, 170-pound inflatable rubber boat. Poorly designed and too bulky for operational use, it was perfect for teaching BUD/S trainees to work together as a team in the surf.
On the final day of Indoc, each trainee’s performance was reviewed by the Academic/Performance Review Board, which decided who would continue on to First Phase. The board could not remove a student from BUD/S, but rather only decided who continued on to the next phase of instruction. In addition, each student had the opportunity to evaluate each of his instructors and the training in writing. The review board determined that Michael Murphy had successfully completed Indoc and was given the rite of passage to the first phase of BUD/S training.
First Phase
Eight weeks long, First Phase was much like Indoc, only the intensity and expectations were elevated several levels. Running, swimming, and physical training grew harder as the weeks passed. Students continued weekly four-mile runs in combat boots and long pants in the soft beach sand, and were expected to decrease their obstacle-course times, swim distances of up to two miles wearing fins, and continue to learn small-boat seamanship and the importance of teamwork.
Drown proofing was an important part of basic conditioning. During this training evolution, the students learned to swim with their hands and feet bound, more of a psychological test than a physical one. It originated in the Vietnam era, when an American POW was hog-tied, then tossed into the Mekong River to drown. That POW proved that a man could swim with his hands and feet tied if he put his mind to it.
In order to pass drown proofing, the trainees had to enter a nine-foot-deep pool with their hands and feet tied, and (1) bob from the surface to the base of the pool for five minutes, (2) float on the surface for five minutes, (3) swim one hundred meters, (4) bob for two minutes, (5) complete forward and backward flips, (6) swim to the bottom of the pool and retrieve an object with their teeth, and (7) return to the surface and bob five more times.
Knot Tying
The students learned to tie knots underwater—not an easy task. The knots—bowline, sheet bend, clove hitch, and right angle—are important because they are used to secure underwater demolition charges.
Cold-Water Conditioning—“Surf Torture”
In the waters of the Pacific just off Coronado, the water temperature usually hovers around 65°, in the summer, never going above 68°. In the winter the water temperature never gets above 58°. The students were ordered to wade into the water up to their waists with their arms linked to prevent a student from being swept out to sea, and then sit while being pounded by the cold saltwater waves breaking over their heads. Another variation was to have the trainees lie with their arms linked and their heads toward the water’s edge to allow the crashing surf to wash over them. On the very brink of hypothermia, they were ordered out of the surf and onto the beach for calisthenics to warm up, and then back into the surf in a training evolution that lasted for about one hour.
Unfortunately, cold-water conditioning was not a onetime experience; it was repeated frequently during BUD/S. Its purpose was to teach the prospective SEALs to mentally fend off the effects of hypothermia—which more than likely could save their lives in the future.
Log PT
This relatively simple but brutal training evolution required that a boat team carry an eight-foot, 150-pound log that was twelve inches in diameter over the men’s heads while running in the soft beach sand wearing long pants and combat boots. During these timed beach runs, the trainees did hundreds of gut-busting sit-ups while holding the log on their stomachs; they also performed calisthenics such as jumping jacks and overhead tosses.
Rock Portage
In these evolutions the seven-man boat crew in their unwieldy IBS attempted to navigate the large piles of sharp rocks in the surf in front of the Hotel del Coronado. A five-star luxury hotel, Hotel del Coronado is located on the Silver Strand between Naval Amphibious Base, Coronado and Naval Air Station North Island. Extremely risky, these evolutions were conducted both day and night.
Obstacle Course (O-course)
Not to be confused with a confidence course, this intimidating true obstacle course must be seen to be believed. Requiring a twenty-yard sprint between obstacles, it demanded a combination of balance, coordination, upper-body strength, technique, endurance, and, most of all, a positive mental attitude. All obstacles were designed to teach, develop, and reinforce a specific skill that would be needed when Michael and the other trainees reached the SEAL teams.
• Parallel bars. Using only their arms, the trainees had to either “hop” or “walk” through a set of parallel bars approximately fifty feet in length with an initial 45-degree climbing angle.
• Pilings. This obstacle consisted of eight log pilings of varying heights and distances. The prospective SEALs were required to leap from one piling to the next to access the next obstacle.
• Tires. In a controlled, balanced sprint, the trainees had to pass through six rows of four tires without falling.
• Low wall. To navigate this obstacle, consisting of a wooden wall about fifteen feet high, the trainees took two hops and jumped up, keeping their bodies low while sliding over the top.
• High wall. The students had to grab a rope and “walk” up a wooden wall about thirty feet high. Staying low, they slid over the top and grabbed the rope on the other side, then walked down.
• Barbed wire. Keeping their heads down, the trainees had to crawl through a trench in the sand approximately thirty feet long and covered with logs and barbed wire.
• Cargo net. To pass over a fifty-foot vertical rope cargo net, the trainees had to climb close to the edge, where the net is tighter and easier to negotiate, while keeping three points of contact, with their hands on the vertical ropes and their feet on the horizontal ropes. They had to climb at a steady pace, stay low while going over the top, and come down in a controlled fall.
• Balance logs. The students had to run along the top of a forty-foot log, across a ten-foot section, and straight down another forty-foot section. If anyone fell off, he had to start over.
• Hooyah logs. With their hands clasped over their heads, the trainees ran up one side of six logs stacked in a pyramid and down the other.
• Transfer rope. Two twenty-foot ropes and a steel ring suspended from a wooden beam formed this obstacle. The trainees had to climb the rope, reach over and grab the steel ring, transfer to the other rope, and then descend.
• “Dirty name.” To pass over this set of uneven log parallel bars, the trainees first had to climb on the step log, then jump and push themselves up. Maintaining their balance, they stood up and jumped up to the other log, then pushed themselves up and over the top.
• Hooyah logs. With their hands clasped over their heads, the trainees ran up one side and down the other of another pyramid, this one consisting of nine logs.
• Weaver. This low-level, ladder-shaped obstacle constructed of wide logs required the students to pass under the first bar and use their momentum to swing and weave themselves up to the next bar. They had to do this for a total of eight bars up and eight bars down the other side.
• Burma Bridge. This obstacle consisted of an elevated rope bridge accessed by a hanging rope. The trainees had to climb up the rope at one end, cross the bridge, and climb down the end rope.
• Slide for Life. The trainees surmounted a thirty-foot-high, four-level platform tower by jumping up onto the first level, then flipping up the next three levels to the top. There, they laid on top of the rope with one leg on the rope and the other hanging down for balance. Then using their forearms, they pulled themselves across a seventy-five-foot rope and down a 40-degree angle to the other side. They then got off the rope and descended another rope at the other end.
• Rope swing. The trainees had to swing over to a log beam, run down the beam to a set of monkey bars, using their arms to “walk” their way through the ten rungs to the balance beam, and then run the length of another log.
• Tires:. In a controlled balanced sprint, the trainees had to pass through six rows of four tires without falling.
• Incline Wall. To surmount this 45-degree-angle wooden wall, the trainees had to jump over the high end and slide down.
• Spider Wall. This obstacle consisted of a wooden wall with alternating flush-mounted two-by-fours. The trainees had to climb to the top on one side and descend the other.
• Vaults. The trainees had to cross over each of an elevated series of five logs using only their hands.
The student with the slowest O-course time had to wear a pink T-shirt that read “Always a Lady” until the next course run.
As if the O-course was not challenging enough, each boat crew was frequently charged with the task of carrying their IBS on their heads as they went through the course as a team.
Physical Testing
Prior to Hell Week, which is the most intense period of training during First Phase, Michael and his classmates faced an extremely challenging physical training evolution. The trainees had to complete a twelve-hundred-meter pool swim with fins in forty-five minutes, a one-mile bay swim with fins in fifty minutes, a one-mile ocean swim with fins in ninety-five minutes, a one-and-a-half-mile ocean swim with fins in seventy minutes, a two-mile ocean swim with fins in ninety-five minutes, the O-course in fifteen minutes, and a four-mile beach run in thirty-two minutes.
Additional Motivation
In the days leading up to Hell Week, the mental strain was apparent on the faces of many in Michael’s class. Most were convinced that they could deal with the physical requirements of the week, but many were worried about the mental toughness they hoped they possessed and would need to muster to survive the upcoming ordeal.
Michael remembered his father telling him about the extensive leg injuries he suffered in Vietnam after being hit by an exploding grenade, and the weeks of agonizing surgeries and treatment he endured during his several months of hospitalization. He also remembered his father showing him a picture of him lying in a hospital bed in Vietnam receiving a Purple Heart from his commanding officer. He telephoned his father and asked him for a copy of the picture so he could look at it when he needed to reinforce his mental toughness the following week. Dan sent the picture out the following day. It arrived on Friday, and Michael looked at it frequently over the weekend. He believed that if his dad could endure being wounded by a grenade, multiple surgeries, weeks of hospitalization, and months of physical therapy to learn how to walk again, he could certainly handle whatever Hell Week dished out.
The first four weeks of First Phase were designed to prepare Michael and his classmates for the fifth week, known as Hell Week, the most notorious part of BUD/S. By this time approximately 30 percent of the class had quit. Hell Week was the real gut check of First Phase and would be the defining moment in both the lives and careers of most of those who would go on to become SEALs.
During Hell Week, the students participated in five and a half days of continuous physical training, with a maximum of four hours’ sleep for the entire week, with never more than two hours at one time. Deliberately designed as the ultimate test of physical and mental motivation, Hell Week proved to those who succeeded that the human body can do ten times the amount of work and exercise than they previously thought possible. The Academic/Performance Review Board reviewed each student’s academic and physical training scores and decided who would go through Hell Week. Michael was cleared to proceed.
Anticipation
On Sunday, just after their noon meal, Michael’s entire class was sequestered in the classroom. Along the back wall were brown paper bags, labeled with their last names, that contained a change of socks and underwear. Some of the men tried to sleep, some read, and some even halfheartedly attempted to watch a video on the screen.
Meanwhile, the instructors put the final touches on the initial “breakout” experience, which was set to start at a predesignated time. Inside the classroom, all knew it was coming; they just didn’t know when or how. They had heard stories about Hell Week from the previous class, but no two Hell Weeks begin the same. Several of the boat crews met to encourage each other, and some even engaged in bravado about being able to take “whatever they decide to put us through.” As an officer, Michael personally talked with each member of his boat crew and offered words of encouragement. He knew that the six men he began Hell Week with might not be the same ones he would finish with. Despite his words, the looks on their faces and in their eyes revealed their real feelings. As they looked around the room, they were aware of the 30 percent that had already dropped out and that the statistics said they would lose another 20 percent in the next twenty-four hours and an additional 20 percent before the end of the week. They couldn’t help wondering if they had what it takes. Yes, they all knew it was coming, but they just didn’t know when or how.
As the minutes and hours passed, the anxiety reached heightened levels, and many of the trainees began expressing their desire to “get this thing going.” By midafternoon their frustration was becoming obvious. Some wondered aloud if the wait and anticipation was just as bad as what they were about to experience. Several students acted as lookouts, sitting next to the doors and watching for approaching instructors, and some sat alone with their thoughts. At 5:00 PM the movies were being repeated for the third time, but no one was really paying attention. The students, visibly apprehensive, began to walk around the room, and conversations among teammates were hushed and infrequent. While a few had relaxed and began playing games of cards, others sat quietly staring blankly into the distance. Certainly, something had to happen soon.
When All Hell Broke Loose
At 5:45 PM an instructor quietly crawled to the door near the front of the classroom and secured the lock. A few seconds later, several instructors flanked the rear door on each side. Armed with smoke grenades, Simunitions (simulated ballistic charges designed to provide realistic training) canisters, and semiautomatic weapons loaded with blank rounds, they moved into position. Outside, on the grinder, several more instructors armed with high-pressure fire hoses took up positions on both sides of the door. Numerous obstacles and barricades had been erected, as well as empty fifty-five-gallon barrels loaded with low-intensity percussion grenades.
Quietly and slowly an instructor turned the doorknob and opened the door just enough to get his hand in and shut off the lights. As the lights went off the instructors, rushed in, screaming through bullhorns, firing their semiautomatic weapons over the heads of the students, who had hit the floor and covered their heads and ears. As the instructors ran through the room trying not to step on anyone, hot spent shell casings hit the floor. Students started yelling, coughing, and hacking. After several minutes of total chaos and confusion, the instructors ordered the students outside, yelling through their amplified bullhorns. Several ran for the front door, but finding it locked, they immediately turned and ran for the back door. The doorway backed up with students, who fell over each other in total confusion. As a group of students cleared the doorway and reached the grinder, they tripped over several of the obstacles that were not there when they entered the classroom several hours earlier. High-pressure fire hoses knocked several to the ground, blinded by smoke and water.
Totally disoriented, some students crawled in every direction trying to escape, while others ran into one obstacle after another as well as into each other. The noise produced by the amplified music, bullhorns, gunfire, and fire hoses was deafening. Some students, totally confused and disorientated, resorted to crawling on the asphalt with their ears covered. Some tried to escape to the beach but were blocked and knocked backward by more instructors with fire hoses. The breakout had been designed to create chaos and confusion. It worked.
After about twenty minutes of mayhem and chaos, the hoses were shut off and the last echoes of semiautomatic weapons faded into the evening air. Bewildered, soaked, confused, and in total shock, the students were ordered to the beach for a roll in the sand then back to the grinder. Many were still coughing and hacking, several with their eyes still closed tightly from the irritation of the cordite, water, and smoke. There were numerous bleeding abrasions on knees, elbows, and ankles from crawling on the rough asphalt.
“Drop!” came the order over the bullhorn. Instinctively, each trainee assumed the fully extended position for push-ups.
“Push ’em out!”
In unison the class began its first of what would be twenty-five sets of twenty push-ups, alternated with ten sets of twenty sit-ups and hurried trips to the pull-up bars for additional repetitions, then back to the grinder for multiple sets of flutter kicks. During the push-ups, several vomited as they extended up from the asphalt. The instructors continued to issue the same order: “Push ’em out!”
Following their warm-up of five hundred push-ups and two hundred gut-busting sit-ups and multiple sets of pull-ups and flutter kicks, the trainees mustered for a run through the O-course. Several more vomited as they ran between obstacles but kept moving. Several students quit and returned to the grinder and their rooms. They had had enough.
Michael was well aware that there were two critical mental elements to surviving Hell Week: taking the punishment handed out by the instructors; and trying not to think about what was to come, because more often than not it was the anticipation that destroyed the will to go on, rather than the punishment itself. He also had a clear vision of where he wanted to go in life. Having this vision made him less likely to fall prey to the mental and physical torture of BUD/S.
Those who remained headed to the beach for another roll in the sand before they assembled in a line, linked arms, and entered the cold surf for another round of surf torture. Each realized that this was just the beginning of what was in store for the next five days: hundreds more push-ups and sit-ups, dozens of more miles to run, another dozen or more runs through the O-course, more surf torture, and more sand. Several more quit. After surf torture it was off for a two-mile run to warm up.
At about 11:00 PM the boat crews paddled their rubber boats fifteen miles around the waters off Coronado, after which they were ordered to place their craft above their heads and run the two miles for their breakfast. During Hell Week, the importance of teamwork was seared into both their conscious and subconscious minds. They ran everywhere they went, carried their 170-pound inflatable boat above their heads, and spent a significant amount of time in the 65° waters of the Pacific. Students endured the effects of deliberate and repeated hypothermia and exposure while highly trained medical teams constantly observed all training evolutions. Under the watchful eyes of the instructors and medical personnel, cases of hypothermia were immediately treated with warm intravenous fluids until the core body temperature rose to a safe level, then the student rejoined his classmates back in the water or in the next training evolution.
An unbreakable bond of community is developed among those who complete BUD/S. Great risk is involved in the training of the world’s most elite warriors, and nowhere is that risk greater than in Hell Week. Stress fractures of the legs are common due to the constant running, as well as moderate to severe cases of cellulitis, an infection of the skin that can cause redness, swelling, cracking, bleeding, and seepage of fluids, from the extended submersion in cold, polluted saltwater. These and other injuries can result in hospitalization for a candidate and his being rolled back to the next BUD/S class. During meals it is not uncommon for students to fall asleep in their food, and many remain in a constant state of disorientation and confusion. The result is a class greatly diminished in size by the end of Hell Week.
Michael developed bilateral stress fractures and a severe case of cellulitis in both of his feet and lower legs. Somehow he was able to continue running and hide the swelling, redness, and bleeding from his teammates, the instructors, and the medical teams. Severe cases of cellulitis can compromise circulation to the affected areas and are considered extreme medical emergencies.
Tragedy in Training
After their Wednesday evening meal and following their routine examination by the medical staff, the fifty-two students in Michael’s class entered the CTT for a training evolution known as the caterpillar swim. This team-building exercise required students wearing their fatigues and boots to float on their backs while interlocking their legs around the next man’s torso, and using their arms to swim around the pool. At some point during the exercise, the senior student officer in the class, Lieutenant John Anthony Skop, began to have trouble staying afloat and was removed from the water by medics. Found to be without a pulse and respiration, medics began cardiopulmonary resuscitation and transferred him to the Sharp Coronado Hospital, where he was pronounced dead soon after arrival. After Skop’s transfer from the CTT by medics, the NSW commanders canceled the remaining thirty-six hours of Hell Week. While all the students were stunned by Skop’s death, nowhere was the loss felt more than among the officers. Unfortunately, this would not be the only training incident to deeply affect Ensign Michael Murphy.
Michael made his way back to his room and fell into a chair. His feet and lower legs were so severely red and swollen that he was unable to remove his boots or move his toes. After sitting for a few minutes, he was unable to move his legs and had no feeling below his knees, and he could not bend down to reach his boots. His roommate called for medical assistance. When the medical team arrived, they were unable to remove his boots and had to cut them off, along with his socks, as well as his pant legs to the groin. Both legs were very hot to the touch, with red streaks that extended above the knee to the groin. There was blackened dead and decayed skin between his toes and on the bottoms of both feet, along with massive swelling and several large cracks in the skin on both lower legs that drained a blood-tinged fluid. Several of his toenails were found in his socks.
Now barely conscious, Michael was transferred to the base hospital, where intensive intravenous fluids and powerful antibiotics were started in both arms. Following the surgical removal of the blackened dead skin, an aggressive wound management program was started that included antibiotic creams and painful sterile-dressing changes several times each day. He was confined to his bed with his lower legs elevated to assist in decreasing the swelling. After about forty-eight hours, Michael was conscious and more alert. When commanders and doctors told him that he could not continue BUD/S training with his class, he immediately tried to get out of bed and return to his boat crew. Only after BUD/S instructors told him that he would be rolled back and permitted to continue with a future class did he finally relent.
The Slow Process of Healing
While Michael remained confined to his hospital bed, he frequently thought about his father, who had been in the same position in Vietnam decades before. He drew both physical and mental strength from his thoughts. He spent his hours in bed reading books such as Bill O’Reilly’s Who’s Looking Out for You? and The No Spin Zone: Confrontations with the Powerful and Famous in America. Despite the aggressive therapy of the medical staff, the dead blackened areas of skin between his toes and the bottoms of his feet continued to grow and required additional surgical removal. The medical staff became very concerned about the circulation to both of his feet: if the condition worsened, he could well lose one or both of his feet.
With Michael’s permission, the doctors notified Maureen and Dan, who arrived at Coronado the following day and met with Michael and his medical team. After another three days of aggressive treatment, Michael’s circulation had improved, and the areas where the decayed skin had been surgically removed were showing signs of improvement. While this was certainly good news, his condition was still serious. After another week of continued improvement, doctors began an aggressive physical therapy program to restore full range of motion to Michael’s toes, ankles and lower legs. Michael’s parents flew back to Long Island, but remained in contact twice each day with Michael and his medical team. After three weeks of extensive treatment and therapy, Michael was discharged. As an outpatient, he continued on oral antibiotics and followed a highly structured and aggressive physical therapy and dressing-change program twice per day. His job was to follow medical instructions, heal, and prepare himself to return to BUD/S training. His dream of becoming a Navy SEAL had been delayed, but he would not be denied. Having been rolled back to the following class, Michael spent the next nine weeks healing both the stress fractures and his wounds. He also spent considerable time doing pull-ups and sit-ups and other upper-body-strengthening calisthenics that did not interfere with his healing.
Finally cleared to return to training, he joined Class 236 on the Monday following its Hell Week. The week was spent entirely in the classroom studying hydrographic reconnaissance, surveys, and charting, and gave Michael and his new classmates healing time for their abused bodies. On the following Monday, it was back to First Phase conditioning at pre–Hell Week levels.
Post–Hell Week Testing
Following Hell Week and the week of hydrographic reconnaissance training and mission planning, Michael and his new classmates were required to complete a two-thousand-meter swim and a one-and-a-half-mile night bay swim. In addition, the two-mile ocean swim with fins had to be completed in ninety-five minutes, a four-mile run in thirty-two minutes, and the O-course in thirteen minutes.
While a significant amount of time was spent on the physical requirements, an equal amount of time was spent in the classroom. The academic requirements to successfully complete BUD/S exceed graduate-level requirements at the most prestigious universities in the United States. Enlisted men must achieve a minimum of 70 percent on all their academics, while officers are held to the higher standard—80 percent. Michael would have it no other way. Academic subjects included dive physiology, Navy dive tables, weapons, hydrographic charts and reconnaissance, ground tactics, weapons nomenclature, leadership and communications, psychology, mission planning, and munitions.
Ben Sauers, one of Michael’s new classmates, related the following story about him.
During one of our frequent boat crew evolutions, the instructors had repeatedly told us not to use our knives while working around the IBSs. Michael was serving as our boat crew leader and we were determined to be the winning boat crew on this evolution. Something happened that resulted in several of the ropes on the IBS getting tangled in a knot and we were unable to get the IBS free. Michael took out his knife and began working on the ropes. Sure enough, he punctured the IBS. There was no way to cover this. The loud hissing sound attracted the instructor’s attention immediately. As the instructors approached, they began shouting. Michael snapped to attention and immediately accepted responsibility and insisted that he should be the only person punished. Although certainly appreciated, we all knew that is not how BUD/S operates. We all completed a hundred push-ups with our feet on another IBS and our hands deep in the sand, which put our faces in the sand during the down phase of the push-ups. After our push-ups and another lecture from the instructors, we ran to get another IBS.
Later that evening after the last evolution, Michael was walking with us back to our rooms when he turned to us and with a big grin on his face said, “Well, I won’t do that again, but it went rather well, don’t you think?” He then took off running as each of us chased him.
On Thursday of the last week of First Phase, the final physical training evolution was a race called the Monster Mash, which proved, as always, that “it pays to be a winner.” The students assembled behind the buildings surrounding the grinder dressed in T-shirts, fatigue pants, and boots, then headed down to the beach, where they all lined up. Start times were separated by thirty-second intervals. To start, everyone had to eat a jalapeño pepper. Officers were also required to take a big drink of jalapeño juice. Then each man took off down the beach to complete the first half of the O-course. After doing this, the student ran back to a section known as Gator Beach. Here he stripped down to his canvas swim trunks, threw his clothes in a truck, and ran up the beach, where instructors were waiting for him. The student grabbed his gear from another vehicle and then went into the water. He headed out to a huge pile of rocks about a hundred yards from shore, then returned to shore for a change back into his shirt, fatigues, and boots, and then ran back to finish the O-course. At the top of the Slide for Life obstacle tower there was a bucket of eggs and a bucket sitting at the bottom. If a student could drop his egg in the bucket, he was rewarded by having two minutes subtracted from his time. At the end of the O-course he ran back up the beach, did four sets of thirty push-ups, ran into the surf, then went into the sand, and was finished. The student with the slowest time overall got the honor of drinking the remainder of the jalapeño juice and wearing the pink T-shirt.
On Friday, the students evaluated their training and their instructors. The Academic/Performance Review Board again diligently reviewed the academic and physical-training performance of each student to determine who would proceed to Second Phase. The board reviewed with each student where he excelled and where he could use improvement. Michael earned the right to proceed to the next phase of BUD/S.
Second Phase
During Second Phase, also known as the dive phase, Michael and his fellow classmates would be expected to decrease their O-course times, do PT every day, and lower their beach run and ocean swim times and begin learning the process of becoming combat swimmers. The first three weeks were spent in the classroom learning diving physics and diving physiology. They learned about the Navy dive and treatment tables. They successfully completed extensive, rigorous examinations before entering the water and were subjected to the recompression chamber to monitor their ability to breathe pure oxygen under pressure. The equipment used was similar to that used by recreational or open-water divers. During what was called Pool Week, they learned the three different life-support systems: open-circuit compressed air; closed-circuit, 100 percent oxygen LAR V Draeger underwater breathing apparatus (UBA); and (3) closed-circuit mixed-gas MK 15 UBA.
Michael and the others were required to be completely familiar with their equipment so that they could prevent or remedy any malfunction underwater without panic. Surfacing from deep water was simply not an option. Also included in the dive phase were the basics of underwater navigation and long-distance underwater swimming. The trainees also learned how to work with limpet mines, underwater explosives that feature a time-delay exploder and are attached to the hull of a ship or submarine with a strap or a powerful magnet. The students made nearly fifty dives during this phase of training.
After eight weeks, all were considered expert divers by commercial standards, although it would take about three years of mission experience for them to be considered competent combat swimmers. It is the dive component of SEAL training—making SEALs as comfortable in the water as on land—that separates them from all other special operations forces. These diving skills would become essential in later training. After mastering these skills, the trainees were given a competency test. Here, they went one-on-one with an instructor who “attacked” them underwater, removing their regulators from their mouths, turning off their air supply, tying their hoses in knots, pulling off their masks and fins, then tumbling and turning them around. In response, they had to reestablish their equipment and air supply and repair their equipment underwater. Only as a last resort could they surface without their equipment.
After gaining competency and confidence in the CTT, they headed for the waters of the Pacific and San Diego Bay, learned underwater navigation and pace count, and began mastering the skills necessary to become competent combat swimmers, in both daylight and nighttime. Their last dive evolution was a five-and-a-half-mile swim from the NSW Center to Imperial Beach.
Dive Tower
After learning how to tie knots on land, it was time for the trainees to practice their skills underwater. This was done at the dive tower, a fifty-foot vertical steel cylinder filled with clear, heated freshwater. In the first evolution, the students dived to a depth of thirty feet and tied three separate knots on a post. The second evolution, a real confidence booster, involved tying a single knot during a fifty-foot dive. Instructors were in the water monitoring every student during the second evolution.
Physical-Skills Evolutions
First Phase scores were no longer good enough. The timed and graded evolutions now required a two-mile ocean swim with fins in eighty minutes; a four-mile run in long pants and boots in thirty-one minutes; completion of the O-course in 10:30; and successful completion of three-and-a-half-mile and five-and-a-half-mile ocean swims. As in First Phase, on Friday of the last day in Second Phase, the students evaluated their training evolutions and their instructors. The Academic/Performance Review Board again reviewed the academic and physical training performance of each student to determine who proceeded on to Third Phase. The board reviewed with each student where they excelled and where they could use improvement. Michael earned the right to proceed to the next phase of BUD/S.
Third Phase
Third Phase, also known as the Land-Warfare Phase, introduced the prospective SEALs to demolitions and tactics. This nine-week program was where the class learned the elements of land warfare as practiced by Navy commandos. As in the previous phases, this required specialized equipment used by the U.S. Army, including H-gear, weight-bearing harnesses, canteens, ammunition pouches, sleeping bags, and rucksacks. During Third Phase, sailors learned the basics of being a soldier.
H-Gear
H-gear was a canvas utility belt used to carry a light load of personal infantry gear. It was supported by a padded pair of nylon suspenders, and had to be set up in a prescribed manner: four ammunition pouches in front, two on either side of the front-buckle catch; a canteen hung just behind each hip; and a personal first-aid kit in the small of the back. The only piece of equipment with optional placement was the combat knife, which was usually placed opposite the rappelling line. All buckles and metal surfaces were painted flat black or covered with olive-colored tape to prevent them from making noise or reflecting light.
Timed Evolutions
The timed PT evolutions of Second Phase were no longer good enough and again lowered. Almost all of the conditioning runs in Third Phase were done with full rucksacks and H-gear. A fully loaded rucksack might weigh forty pounds, not including other equipment on the H-gear. The O-course time was lowered to an even ten minutes; the four-mile beach run in long pants and boots to thirty minutes. In addition, the trainees had to complete a two-mile ocean swim with fins in seventy-five minutes, and successfully complete a fourteen-mile run with a fully loaded rucksack.
Weapons Training
Week one of Third Phase consisted of learning the basics of using a compass, reading a map, and walking a line of bearing using a pace count to measure distance. Week one also introduced field weapons, beginning with weapons safety and becoming familiar with the SEAL arsenal.
Monday of week two sent the students to NSW’s Mountain Warfare Training Facility at La Posta, California. At an elevation of three thousand feet, this training center, located on thirteen hundred acres, includes a five-thousand-meter mountain-endurance training course for a timed land-navigation checkout evolution. The facility continues today to play a vital role in the training of NSW forces because the terrain closely resembles the environments found in Korea, Iraq, and Afghanistan.
During their field training, Michael and the other students were introduced to the SEAL’s primary weapon, the M4 rifle, weapons training, and shooting qualifications. The training facility has a state-of-the-art shooting range that includes metal silhouettes at distances of fifty to one hundred meters. The trainees learned that smooth is fast. Speed comes from learning a correct, smooth technique. Firing two shots in rapid succession at each target, they were graded on both time and accuracy. NSW and all U.S. Special Forces use a modified M4, specifically the M4A1, a fully automatic variation of the basic M4 carbine. The M4A1 is a gas-operated, air-cooled, magazine-fed, selective fire, shoulder-fired weapon with a telescoping stock that provides greater maneuverability in close quarters and combat-extended range with lethal capability. It has an effective range of about five hundred to six hundred meters. The USSOCOM modification is a SOPMOD Block I Kit that features a rail interface system (RIS), a special hand guard, a shortened quick-detachable M203 grenade launcher, a leaf sight, a sound suppressor, a backup rear sight and a visible laser-infrared designator, reflex sights, and a night-vision sight.
“Gentlemen, This Changes Everything”
At about 5:45 Pacific time on the morning of September 11, 2001, Ensign Michael Murphy and his BUD/S classmates were conducting a morning PT session before continuing their reconnaissance training. One of the instructors suddenly called them into the classroom. There, two large television screens suspended in the corners at the front of the room displayed the carnage and devastation occurring on the other side of their country. For the next ninety minutes the men all sat in disbelief as both towers of the World Trade Center collapsed, the Pentagon was attacked, and a fourth plane was reported down in Somerset County, Pennsylvania.
As Ensign Murphy watched the events unfold so close to his home, he was concerned for his best friends, Jimmie and Owen O’Callaghan, both now serving as New York City policemen. He knew that they would be at the World Trade Center, along with their uncle, who was a member of the New York City Fire Department. As his thoughts of home moved like a video screen through his mind, he stared at the television. The images of the towers collapsing and the resulting deaths of thousands of his fellow New Yorkers was seared into every neuron of his brain. Every muscle in his body tightened; his teeth clenched, and his jaws began to ache from the tension. The rock-hard muscles of his physically fine-tuned body became clearly defined. To Michael Murphy, this was personal.
Newly commissioned Ensign Michael P. Murphy receiving his first salute upon graduating from Officer Candidate School on December 13, 2000. (Courtesy of the Murphy family)
Graduation picture of BUD/S Class 236. Ensign Michael Murphy is on the far left in the top row. (U.S. Navy)
When Michael’s best friend became a member of the New York City Fire Department, Michael wore the station’s patch as a symbol of solidarity while in Afghanistan. (Courtesy of the Murphy family)
Michael Murphy studies a land-navigation chart in Afghanistan. This photo was taken on the early morning of May 20, 2005. (Courtesy of Ben Sauers)
This is where the fight took place. The image also shows where Murphy, Dietz, and Axelson fell along with Lutrell’s route of escape. (Photo courtesy of Ensign Christopher Reed)
Taken on June 18, 2005, as he prepares for yet another mission, this is one of the best-known pictures of Lieutenant Michael Murphy. (Courtesy of the Murphy family)
The ramp ceremony at Bagram Airfield, Afghanistan, on July 5, 2005. The flag-draped military cases are carrying the remains of Lieutenant Michael P. Murphy (front) and Petty Officer Third Class Danny Dietz (rear). (Courtesy of Ben Sauers)
Sixteen fire trucks from various Long Island fire departments formed an arch that suspended eight 30′ x 30′ flags as Michael’s funeral procession entered Calverton National Cemetery on July 13, 2005. (Courtesy of the Murphy family)
Lieutenant Michael P. Murphy’s headstone at Calverton National Cemetery, located in Section 67, site 3710. (Photo by the author)
The reverse side of Michael’s headstone, noting his Silver Star and Purple Heart, along with his SEAL Trident. (Photo by the author)
Sign welcoming visitors to Navy SEAL Lt. Michael P. Murphy Memorial Park overlooking Lake Ronkonkoma, where Michael served as a lifeguard and beach manager for several years. (Photo by the author)
Dedication of the Navy SEAL Lt. Michael P. Murphy Memorial Park on May 7, 2006. The monument was donated by the Military Order of the Purple Heart. Standing in the back row are Rear Admiral Joseph Maguire and Michael’s father, Daniel J. Murphy. In the front row are Michael’s younger brother, John, and his mother, Maureen Murphy. (Courtesy of the Murphy family)
Lieutenant Murphy’s parents with Congressman Timothy Bishop and Rear Admiral Joseph Maguire at the Lake Ronkonkoma park’s dedication on May 7, 2006. (Courtesy of the Murphy family)
Sailor’s Cross dedicated to the memory of Lieutenant Michael Murphy, located in front of the American Legion Post in Patchogue, New York. (Photo by the author)
Dan Murphy prays at the grave of Chief Warrant Officer 4 Chris Scherkenbach, the helicopter pilot from the 160th SOAR who lost his life on June 28, 2005, during the Murphys’ visit to Arlington National Cemetery on October 21, 2007, the day before Lieutenant Murphy received the Medal of Honor. (Courtesy of the Murphy family)
Lieutenant Mike McGreevy’s widow, Laura, and daughter, Molly, accompanied the Murphys on their visit to Arlington National Cemetery. (Courtesy of the Murphy family)
Escorted by a Navy honor guard, the family of Lieutenant Michael Murphy places wreaths at the graves of those lost in Operation Red Wings interred at Arlington National Cemetery. (Courtesy of the Murphy family)
Lieutenant Michael Murphy’s parents being escorted by a Navy and Army honor guard during the wreath-laying ceremony at the Tomb of the Unknowns at Arlington National Cemetery. (Courtesy of the Murphy family)
Lieutenant Michael Murphy’s parents standing at the Tomb of the Unknowns. (Courtesy of the Murphy family)
Maureen Murphy holds the Medal of Honor presented to her and Dan by President Bush. (Courtesy of the Murphy family)
Michael’s parents stand with President Bush as a military aide reads the Medal of Honor citation. (Courtesy of the Murphy family)
A Navy honor guard stands at the display table in the Pentagon’s Hall of Heroes during Lieutenant Michael P. Murphy’s induction ceremony on October 23, 2007. (Courtesy of the Murphy family)
The program for the induction ceremony in the Pentagon’s Hall of Heroes. (Courtesy of the Murphy family)
The Murphys being interviewed by members of the media following the Hall of Heroes induction ceremony. (Courtesy of the Murphy family)
The parents of Lieutenant Michael Murphy stand with Secretary of the Navy Donald C. Winter during the Medal of Honor Flag ceremony at the Navy Memorial in Washington, D.C., on October 23, 2007. (Courtesy of the Murphy family)
A U.S. Navy honor guard prepares to fold Michael’s Medal of Honor Flag. (Courtesy of the Murphy family)
Admiral Gary Roughead, the chief of naval operations, presents Lieutenant Michael Murphy’s Medal of Honor Flag to his mother, Maureen. (Courtesy of the Murphy family)
Dan Murphy prays at the grave of Lieutenant Commander Erik Kristensen at the U.S. Naval Academy Cemetery in Annapolis, Maryland, on October 24, 2007. (Courtesy of the Murphy family)
Four-foot-diameter granite marker located in the Serenity Plaza, Navy SEAL Lt. Michael P. Murphy Memorial Park, Lake Ronkonkoma, New York. (Courtesy of the Murphy family)
Rear Admiral Edward Kristensen, USN (ret.), and Suzanne Kristensen visit the grave of Lieutenant Michael P. Murphy at Calverton National Cemetery on October 31, 2008. (Photo by the author)
On November 1, 2008, Michael Murphy’s parents visit the New York City Fire Department station “adopted” by their son. (Photo by the author)
The reflection of Michael Murphy’s mother in the large display honoring him at FDNY Engine Co. 54, Ladder Co. 43—“El Barrio’s Bravest.” Michael’s funeral prayer card is in the upper left corner, and the actual station patch worn by him on June 28, 2005, is under his picture, as is his SEAL Trident. (Photo by the author)
Oil portrait of Lieutenant Michael P. Murphy painted by New York artist Gerald Slater and presented to the family on May 7, 2008. Replica prints now hang in several places around the country that have been named in honor of Lieutenant Murphy. (Courtesy of Gerald Slater)
The instructor walked toward the front of the classroom while he muted the sound with his remote control. The sudden silence mentally snapped Michael to attention. As the instructor reached the front center of the classroom, he turned sharply, facing the class. Without looking behind him, he pointed to one of the television screens and in a low stern voice stated, “Gentlemen, this changes everything. We’re going to war!” But Ensign Michael Murphy was not going to war—he was already there.
After several more minutes of discussion, the class assembled back outside to complete their PT before going on to reconnaissance training. As the PT repetitions were being counted, the men’s voices were louder and crisper. Ben Sauers noticed a visible change in Michael: “Michael always had a smile on his face, was intense but very easygoing; after 9/11 something changed in him. You could see it. While he was still very personable and went out of his way to help anyone and everyone, his intensity changed. It’s like he became quieter. To those who didn’t know him, they would have noticed nothing out of the ordinary, but having been with him since his rollback, I could see it. He internalized 9/11.”
Top Gun and Beyond
With the resolve of the class having changed, the men’s last day at La Posta began with familiarization shooting without scores to get ready for the Top Gun competition, a single-elimination tournament with members going one-on-one on the range. Each member contributed $10 for the Top Gun Trophy, a KA-BAR knife engraved with the class number.
Each shooter possessed an M4, ten rounds, and an extra magazine. On command the trainees dropped to a kneeling position and fired rounds at the target at twenty-five meters, then shifted to a prone position and fired at the target at fifty meters. They could fire as many rounds as they liked, and the first shooter with a hit on each target was the winner and progressed on to face another opponent.
After La Posta, the students of Class 236 traveled to Camp Pendleton, California, the U.S. Marine Corps’ 125,000-acre facility, where the students utilized the Edison Range, one of the most complete shooting-range training facilities anywhere. There they continued to hone their shooting skills using the entire SEAL arsenal, but with special emphasis on their M4A1.
The next two weeks found them back at the NSW Center for demolitions training. A SEAL must be very familiar with a variety of military and other types of demolitions, and must be able to safely detonate explosives both on land and at sea. While the basics of priming both electrical and nonelectrical demolition charges were covered at Coronado, the majority of demolition training was conducted during four weeks of field training on San Clemente Island.
San Clemente Island
Michael and his class loaded their equipment into a McDonnell Douglas C-9 for the short flight to the “Rock,” San Clemente Island. Upon arrival they unloaded their weapons and personal gear into an old white bus for the two-mile drive to the training facility.
San Clemente Island is the southernmost of the Channel Islands off California. Officially uninhabited, the twenty-one-mile-long island hosts an active sonar base, a simulated embassy, and a rocket-test facility. Known for its high winds, dangerous terrain covered with scrub grass, ice plants, and prickly pear and golden snake cactus, it is the home of the Camp Al Huey SEAL training facility, located just north of the runways of the Naval Auxiliary landing field. Built in 1989, Camp Al Huey was named after a Vietnam-era master chief petty officer who had dedicated many years to both the SEAL teams and the training of SEALs. It is a complete training facility containing barracks, chow hall, armory, weapons-cleaning stations, classrooms, shooting, demolition, and hand grenade ranges, and an O-course.
During their last four weeks of Third Phase training, the students began to work seven days a week from 6 AM to 8 PM without a break, until their BUD/S graduation.
Flight Training
One of the more lighthearted but extremely challenging exercises performed by Michael’s class was “flight training.” Flight training for BUD/S candidates involved the frequent running up and down of the steep hills of San Clemente while carrying a large heavy wooden pallet over their heads. With the very strong winds coming off the Pacific, it was more than a challenge for the SEAL candidates to maintain their balance and footing. It was not uncommon for the winds to lift them off the ground, which slowed their “flight” time. As in every training evolution, there was a precise procedure to flight training, including a prearranged “flight pattern” and “maneuvers,” as well as proper “landing instructions.” Failure to follow instructions resulted in another “flight.”
Chow PT
In life, nothing is free. The same is true in BUD/S. At Camp Al Huey, to earn breakfast, the trainees had to perform maximum push-ups and sit-ups in two-minute timed intervals with full H-gear and full canteens. Before lunch they completed a two-hundred-meter run up a steep hill to “Frog Rock”; this was also made in full H-gear with full canteens, and it had to be completed in ninety seconds. The price for their evening meal was fifteen pull-ups and fifteen dips—also with full H-gear and canteens.
Having familiarized themselves with the SEAL weapons arsenal earlier at the Naval Special Warfare’s Mountain Warfare Training Facility, Michael and the other students learned combat shooting techniques with both the M4A1 and the SIG SAUER pistol. Combat shooting involved fast and accurate shooting as well as changing magazines while continuing to get rounds on target. The trainees then progressed to immediate-action drills (IADs), which taught the men how to break contact in a firefight or quickly assault an enemy position. During these drills they learned how the leapfrog maneuver, in which one element of the combat unit moved while the other provided covering fire. This meant that someone off to a trainee’s side and behind him was firing at a target in front of him. Class 236 first walked through the IADs, then ran through them at full speed, both in daylight and then at night. Other land-warfare skills learned were ambushes, structure searches, handling of prisoners, reconnaissance techniques, and raid planning—again, each skill was taught in the classroom and then practiced in the field, both in daylight and at night. The trainees learned the skill of holding one’s breath and diving twenty feet to place demolitions on obstacles submerged off the island’s coast. Using the hydrographic reconnaissance skills learned in First Phase, the class conducted a simulated night-combat beach reconnaissance, prepared a hydrographic chart, and returned the following night to place the charges and blow them up.
Class 236’s final field training exercise (FTX) problem was conducted over a five-day period. First, the men were divided into squads, upon which each squad entered a period of isolation to begin mission planning. Each squad then conducted four consecutive night operations utilizing the skills they learned during the previous six months at BUD/S.
These separate and exhausting exercises made it a sobering but exciting time for Michael and his classmates, because they saw their months of training begin to gel and pay off. They knew these skills would be utilized in the months and years ahead.
Graduation Week: Final Training Evolutions
Back at the NSW Center, their last graded physical evolution was the SEAL Physical Readiness Test (PRT). The test began with the maximum number of push-ups, sit-ups, and pull-ups in timed two-minute intervals, then continued with a three-mile timed run and a half-mile timed swim. It was not uncommon for individual scores to seem unbelievable by civilian standards, with the number of push-ups exceeding 200, sit-ups exceeding 150, and pull-ups exceeding 30, with near fifteen-minute three-mile runs and twelve-minute half-mile swims.
After the men successfully completed their SEAL PRT, only two physical evolutions remained before graduation. The first, Hooyah PT, consisted of a run through the O-course, a seven-mile beach run, and then another run through the O-course. The other was the Balboa Park Run, a ten-mile run from Balboa Park in San Diego back to Imperial Beach.
With one day left in their training, the students completed their BUD/S checkout briefing, received their orders, and spent time rehearsing for the event they had been working toward for the previous nine months—graduation.
Graduation
On the Friday of Class 236’s final week at BUD/S, the grinder was transformed with flags, rows of chairs, a small stage, a microphone, and colorful and patriotic bunting. With family, friends, SEALs, and the entire NSW command in attendance, and after remarks by invited guests, each graduate received a certificate of completion. Having threatened to resign their positions with the New York City Police Department if not permitted to attend their best friend’s graduation, Jimmie and Owen O’Callaghan joined Michael’s parents, Maureen and Dan, and his brother, John, as they watched Michael receive his certificate of completion.
Ben Sauers remembered him as “the guy that always had a smile on his face and words of encouragement for everyone. And he was always the guy that during our rare time off could be seen running with full combat gear and doing extra PT. He was not the fastest. He was not the strongest, but very smart and very determined. No one had more determination than Ensign Murphy. I would follow him anywhere.”
On October 18, 2001, Ensign Michael P. Murphy signed his Fitness Report and Counseling Record for BUD/S. The written comments about his performance read as follows: “Completed 25 weeks of instruction in physical conditioning, surface swimming, small boat handling, hydrographic reconnaissance, weapons training, small unit tactics, demolition training, and open and closed circuit scuba. His professional performance was outstanding during this physically and mentally demanding course of instruction.”
For Murphy and the rest of his class, it was a bittersweet moment. The cost had been high, with the loss of Lieutenant Skop, and Michael’s near loss of both his lower legs and feet. Although they had graduated, Michael Murphy and each of the other members of BUD/S Class 236 realized that his certificate of completion was merely a ticket of admission to the next phase of their training.
The agoge was the warrior-training program utilized by the ancient Spartans. NSW had its own version of the agoge to train modern-day warriors for a nation at war.
* For a detailed description of SEAL training, there is no better source than Dick Couch’s book, The Warrior Elite: The Forging of SEAL Class 228 (New York: Three Rivers Press, 2003).