I was on my smartphone the other day and saw a familiar picture of trainees enrolled in BUD/S (Basic Underwater Demolition/Seal School), defying the elements by paddling their rafts (IBS, inflatable boat small) toward a wall of anything but warm water that was rushing toward them. It reminded me of my time at BUD/S in a solid thrashing session simply referred to as a “surf passage” exercise in the chilly Pacific waters off the Coronado coastline of California. The objective sounded simple enough – get outside the breakers and the activity was over. The faster we made it happen; the quicker we don dry clothes. Hooyah!
It turned out to be not so simple a task and more time-consuming than originally hoped. This challenging exercise had all the looks of futility written all over it. There was nothing exhilarating about tackling the onslaught of being pounded by merciless waves. The experience was exhaustive with endless shivering and frustration. The shivering played more with the mind than the waves.
With the beatdown, in my shortsightedness, I willfully undermined my reason for being there in the first place and all the training in preparation to be at BUD/S! I began to question myself, “What am I doing here? It is obvious these waves are not traversable in these conditions by way of a surface vehicle. What is the point of all of this?” Growing up, I knew a lot about surfing. If I was on a surfboard, getting through this surf would be doable, but slow paddling on the surface made us vulnerable to the power of the waves.
Even as motivated and pumped up as I was in desiring to be a UDT/SEAL, it was the first and only time that I had ever come to the threshold of quitting as a candidate. I nearly let my attitude get the best of me. Fortunately, I turned my anger into a tool of defiance and stayed the course. I resolved to never again to allow an instructor to get inside my head; My resolve to be a SEAL went unbroken.
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| Credit: Stephen Tremlin |
On my surf passage baptism in BUD/S, words cannot express how delightful the experience was. People pay good money for this! On this particular day, the surf conditions were rougher than usual which made the instructors very happy while we were staring out at the surf zone at an OMG situation.
The breakers were pushing 8 feet in height, looming above the trough, even higher at times with the variation of the sets heading to shore. The waves were mostly closed out, meaning that a wave was breaking all along its wall simultaneously. There is no way that you can dodge the break in a raft of these types of waves for there is no trajectory. The only hope is in the timing that you make it over a wave before it breaks.
The hydrodynamics of the oncoming waves that fateful day simply collapsed repeatedly all along its wall facing. Surf conditions that day looked similar to the wave in the picture with the Navy vessel in the background but more tumultuous. Here comes this wall of water, then kaboom! Bodies, oars, and cold water are tumbling at times. There’s nothing like feeling an oar hitting you like a missile in the head.
The hydrodynamics of the oncoming waves that fateful day simply collapsed repeatedly all along its wall facing. Surf conditions that day looked similar to the wave in the picture with the Navy vessel in the background but more tumultuous. Here comes this wall of water, then kaboom! Bodies, oars, and cold water are tumbling at times. There’s nothing like feeling an oar hitting you like a missile in the head.
This ubiquitous picture makes it look fun, splashing in the surf, but it was anything but that. Adrenaline can only keep you warm for so long. I am thinking there were at least six, maybe seven, IBS’s hitting the surf with 7 men aboard each raft. So, here we were, standing by our rafts on the beach, looking out at the bleak surf conditions of the Pacific Ocean. The instructor yelled through his megaphone, “Everybody drop and give me fifty (pushups, that is)!”
While we were pecking the beach sand with our noses, the instructor was informing us that all we have to do is to get outside the breakers, and the exercise would be over, and we can go in “early” (that should have been a clue) and get a hot shower before heading to the chow hall. It sounded too good to be true. The instructors understood surf conditions; I did, too, since I loved to surf. But paddling an IBS through this mess was not going to be a piece of cake.
For nearly three hours later… things had gone dreadfully wrong. No IBS unit could make it outside the breakers. Two of the men in our boat had already had enough and wanted out of the program, leaving us with five, the coxswain (helmsman) and two paddlers port and two paddlers starboard. I was port side and aft.
After being pulverized by the surf for about an hour and a half in the splish-splash, all boats were summoned to the beach to hear a lecture on how sorry we were amidst the cacophony of expletives! Because no rafts were able to get beyond the breakers, we were going back out into the cold, crushing surf; hooyah! Then came the unexpected surprise.
The instructors had taken pity on us! They decided to make it easier for us to get through the breakers, for that was the objective, after all, the mission, the point of this exercise, and the way things were going, it wasn't going to happen! I thought to myself, “Why didn't you tell us earlier,” having no clue what was coming down the pike.
We were instructed to deflate the bow sections of our IBS and flop it over the aft of the raft to where the bow and stern looked like a big pair of lips. Then we took the bow and stern lines and wrapped them around the raft. With our half-raft, we were told to put our feet on the doubled-up raft and our hands on the sand and do fifty pushups at an extreme angle! Now, I was really angered by the whole absurdity of this exercise. After we finished with our pushups, we let out a great big “Hooyah!” and dragged our big swift boat into the surf.
There was some fancy gibberish written upon the wall in the lounge of the barracks by a former candidate who likened quitting to an arrow being taken from the quiver and shot into a field of tall grasses, quickly disappearing from the scene, lost, quickly forgotten. The analogy is faulty, but I think the idea was that the arrow determines the direction of the archer which doesn't make any sense, but in some strange mystical kind of way, no one was overly critical of it and understood the warning.
If you don't muster the wherewithal upon demand, you will find yourself out of the quiver and launched into the tallest of grasses, nowhere to be found. I was no poet or philosopher, just a young man from south Florida, but every time I read that analogy I told myself that I would not be like that lost arrow but found hitting the intended target and being returned to the quiver.
We were instructed to deflate the bow sections of our IBS and flop it over the aft of the raft to where the bow and stern looked like a big pair of lips. Then we took the bow and stern lines and wrapped them around the raft. With our half-raft, we were told to put our feet on the doubled-up raft and our hands on the sand and do fifty pushups at an extreme angle! Now, I was really angered by the whole absurdity of this exercise. After we finished with our pushups, we let out a great big “Hooyah!” and dragged our big swift boat into the surf.
There was some fancy gibberish written upon the wall in the lounge of the barracks by a former candidate who likened quitting to an arrow being taken from the quiver and shot into a field of tall grasses, quickly disappearing from the scene, lost, quickly forgotten. The analogy is faulty, but I think the idea was that the arrow determines the direction of the archer which doesn't make any sense, but in some strange mystical kind of way, no one was overly critical of it and understood the warning.
If you don't muster the wherewithal upon demand, you will find yourself out of the quiver and launched into the tallest of grasses, nowhere to be found. I was no poet or philosopher, just a young man from south Florida, but every time I read that analogy I told myself that I would not be like that lost arrow but found hitting the intended target and being returned to the quiver.
To ensure that we would be successful in getting past the breakers, one of the instructors demanded that we turn our paddles upside down and paddle out with the handles only! My very first thoughts were, “How do you expect five men getting on top of a doubled-over raft and paddling with handles to get past the buffeting surf line?” If I made any comment or questioned an instructor, it was tantamount to committing suicide. But this was in my estimation getting really kind of ridiculous.
However, by having a lower profile in the water, we were being assisted by the returning waters from the shore. We were like heavy floating flotsam penetrating the surf, slowly but surely rather than being pushed shoreward constantly by the surface action. Our draft was creating resistance rather than scooting along the surface. The crashing waves were no longer dragging us nearer to the shore. Nearing the third hour in our cruise, we were the first half-raft to penetrate beyond the breakers! Almost immediately, there was the sounding of the horn that the operation was over. Just like the instructor said.
As we made our way back to shore with the waves to our backs, our minds and bodies were numb for being in the cold water for nearly three hours without wetsuit protection. Strange as it may sound, we were feeling a little warmer, knowing that we were heading out of this craziness.
There was also a sense of pride among the five of us that it was our folded-raft that broke free of the surf zone, and everybody benefited by our effort. The ground never felt so good as we dragged this black blob up to the dry sand. Dropping our paddles, we were all told to hit the sand and give them fifty more pushups for keeping the instructor staff out on the beach for so long a time. We were informed that we were all nothing more than a bunch of weenies or tadpoles who hasn't got what it takes to be in the teams. There were no accolades nor any thank you's from the other IBS units for going beyond the breakers; we were all too tired to even care. One thing was certain; though this was our first rodeo, it wouldn't be the last. Hooyah!
As I started doing my last set of fifty pushups for that day, my anger subsided and turned inward. I was angry with myself for allowing the instructors to get inside my head. Going forward, I made up my mind to never question the wisdom of my instructors and simply obey every command spontaneously and completely. I would harness the negative energy of anger and redirect it toward defiance in giving up. I knew that between me and the prize was this rugged valley called BUD/S. I can honestly say that I never again took my eyes off the prize, not even for a moment did I ever think about quitting after my surf passage ordeal which turned out to be the best thing that could have happened to me!
Whenever a candidate rung that infamous bell located in the training compound, he officially announced to the world that he was quitting. Every time I heard that bell ring, I was reminded of my kill-quit attitude. I kept this PMA to myself during training, having rarely shared it until now. Some rough and tumble SEALS would argue that their minds were already made up before BUD/S; mine was solidified by it.
The surf passage was a pivotal moment for me because it revealed an unseen weakness that could not be ignored, or it would come back to haunt me and make me vulnerable to failure. Luckily, I was wise enough to nip it in the bud right then and there. Upon graduation, those standing were less in number than those standing on the beach that day after playing surf and turf, which brings me to this personal observation.
There is no way that anyone can look at somebody wanting to be a Navy SEAL and say he will succeed. The heavy attrition rate tells a different story; there's a good possibility that you won't make it; the odds are against you! It doesn't matter if you are strong, intelligent, physically coordinated, confident, boisterous, or highly motivated. What I have witnessed during my time in BUD/S were men dropping out left and right for this reason or that. It is a training that demands commitment, and one way or another, that commitment is going to be tested. Indeed, training was at times very dangerous because of the nature of the business, but there were no bullets whizzing by or an enemy lurking in the shadows about to take you out while you trained. All of that stuff along with the heroics would come later depending on your tenure in special forces.
For me, I had decided on that day after taking a pounding like everyone else in the surf that I was not going to be humiliated by ringing that blasted bell three times for everyone to hear. Also, I did not want to have to live with that sound haunting me the rest of my days. A friend of mine in the regular Navy was a BUD/S dropout. He was taller, bigger, stronger, and smarter than me. The only advantage I had over him, besides being a better basketball player, was my heart attitude; I was committed to being a SEAL; he was not and grabbed the clapper and rung the bell, not once, not twice, but three times (you're out)! It didn't mean he was less of a man than me for dropping out of BUD/S; he never really wanted it! There is still life after disillusionment or disappointment. It is not for everyone. You learn from it and move on.
Every day was an adventure with a new set of challenges. You have to keep up with the frantic pace, stay healthy, and whatever you do, don't get an instructor on your case for you might as well ring the bell. In the crucible, it always boils down to the heart; how bad do you want this? How far are you willing to go to make it happen? You have to eat, drink, sleep, and dream every single day about the goal of being in the realm of frogs and seals. It doesn't come easy, and it doesn't come without a price. There is absolutely nothing romantic about what awaits a candidate in BUD/S. Without a doubt, trainees are going to be tested out of measure to see those who embrace all kinds of suffering because it comes with the territory. For whom does the bell tolls?
I found it ironic that some of the first candidates to quit were those who were either jocks or very muscular, thinking they were a mister tough guy or too strong to fail. They grossly underestimated the reality of a brutal and grueling schedule that intensified with each passing day until the day you graduate, if you graduate. No one jocks or muscles their way through BUD/S; it will beat you down. The cold water alone is the great leveler and revealer of things. In some sick kind of way, you have to love to suffer to obtain the prize! The vast majority who try out are unwilling to go to that extent. The only alternative is to ring the bell.
When I went through BUD/S, I didn't know the Lord. It is the very thought that I have struggled and agonized over as a believer for years. Why was my service to the Lord not, at the very least, of the caliber of my desire to become a SEAL? Why in the world did I not eat, drink, sleep, and dream of His will for my life (1 Cor 10:31)? I understand about the flesh versus the Spirit (Zech 4:6; 1 Cor 10:3-6; Eph 6:12).
Nonetheless, an observable breach has been a challenge and consternation to my spirituality. I am broken at unpredictable times by a pang of inexplicable guilt over the difference. Perhaps, I am comparing apples and oranges and placing a greater burden on myself than is necessary (cf. Mt 11:29)? There can be no honor in giving less than our very best for Him! How much more effective could we be as believers if we worked as a team for God's glory (one mind, one voice), staying focused on the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus (Php3:14)? No matter what heads our way, we need to be resolved to finish the course, no arrows in the tall grasses!
Though I had earned the right to be among the ranks of the SEAL communities by successfully going through the valley of BUD/S, as a soldier of Jesus Christ, we cannot earn what had already been achieved for us through Christ's death on the cross -- the forgiveness of the penalty of sin. We have right standing before God Almighty by grace alone, through faith alone, in Christ alone. The waves of training, testing, and enduring hardship will never cease this side of eternity until we are called to heaven's shore by our Instructor. It is in this valley called life where our mettle is tested for God's glory.
Until then, we keep on stroking against the odds, my friends who know the Lord. Stay intensely focused on the prize and never stop moving forward. Don't even think about ringing the bell, kill the quit-thinking now! Jesus didn't quit on us even to the cross to purchase our redemption (Mt 26:39; Rom 5:8; Php 2:8). Obey 1 Jn 1:9 and get out of the grasses and begin hitting the target of His will for your life!
Keep on keeping on in the will of God. There is a purpose behind everything that Yahweh has for us. We may never get the why of it here, but rest assured that the time is coming when we will all go beyond those maddening breakers, and our mission will be over here. The rite of passage is found in Christ alone. He is the only way of getting beyond the breakers. <><
“Do you not know that those who run in a race all run, but one receives the prize? Run in such a way that you may obtain it. And everyone who competes for the prize is temperate [exercises control] in all things. Now they do it to obtain a perishable crown [a SEAL trident perhaps!], but we [as believers] for an imperishable crown. Therefore I run thus: not with uncertainty. Thus I fight: not as one who beats the air. But I discipline my body and bring it into subjection, lest when I have preached to others, I myself should become disqualified” [like ringing the bell?] (1 Cor 9:24-27). <><
