Read Online Battle Ready: Memoir of a SEAL Warrior Medic by Mark L. Donald, Scott Mactavish - Free Book Online
Authors: Mark L. Donald, Scott Mactavish
Ads: Link
speaking to one another in this relaxed fashion is a sign of the greatest respect. They speak as family, as teammates … as SEALs, and it all stems from a personal bond that is forged when men face adversity as one.
As a former marine I often wondered why the Special Warfare device, also known as the “Trident” or “Budweiser,” was gold for both officer and enlisted. Everywhere else in the navy, officers wear gold and enlisted wear silver, but not in Special Warfare. Over time I learned that unlike the rest of the navy, Special Warfare officers and enlisted go through the same six-month qualification process at BUD/S, which has essentially remained unchanged since its inception. After graduation from BUD/S the few remaining students in the class attend SEAL Qualification Training (SQT), an additional half-year advanced training program that instills the skills necessary to qualify as a modern-day SEAL. Although I cannot be certain, I believe this to be the only training pipeline in the U.S. military in which both officer and enlisted share the exact same qualification standard for their military occupation. This equality in earning the title is what allows the enlisted member to wear the gold Trident following graduation from SQT. Every SEAL and their UDT (Underwater Demolition Team) predecessors before them have endured the same twenty-four weeks of SEAL basic training. This combat-proven and time-tested pipeline is the foundation for an undying unity that exists among all members of the community regardless of their rank, experience, or generation.
There I stood at the gateway to the frog family with absolutely no idea it all started with that first swim.
Unlike distance running, ocean swims require constant diligence; you must maintain a constant state of awareness of your position in the water if you expect to stay on course. Otherwise you might find yourself swimming hundreds of extra, unintentional meters. Like runners, though, distance swimmers find a rhythm and then lose themselves in thought, some focusing on a personal mantra or visualizing a future event, like graduation from BUD/S. I had my own unique method for ocean swims: find a tempo and let the mind wander, usually to something in the past. As I made my way through the water I thought about graduating from Hospital Corps School a couple of months earlier and how it was the beginning of my journey to fulfilling a personal calling to medicine. The differences I encountered between the United States Marine Corps and the Navy Hospital Corps were extreme. The marines base effectiveness on military discipline and practice it in everything they do. Perfect appearance in uniform and execution of close order drill are indicative of their lifestyle. Navy medicine was equally professional but far more relaxed. The hardened look and crisp “yes, sir” and “no, sir” of the Corps were replaced with a smiling face and “sure, let me see what I can do.” Both were effective methods, but they were dramatically different. One was for operating on the battlefield and the other on the hospital wards after the fight. Then there was BUD/S, which was all business. No babysitting here; sailors who needed it were weeded out of the system long before receiving orders to Coronado, California. At BUD/S the class is told one time where to be, when to be there, and what to have ready. If an individual can’t figure it out, he has no business being there.
I was no stranger to Coronado. I was stationed there as a young marine but never bothered to cross the base into “SEAL country.” I was focused on marine training but had no reason to bother the SEALs, and the SEALs certainly didn’t want me there. Back in those days, I never imagined I would one day train on their sacred ground with the ambition of making that ground mine.
SEALs are a particular breed. From a distance they seem like a cross between an easygoing soldier with relaxed uniform standards and an
As a former marine I often wondered why the Special Warfare device, also known as the “Trident” or “Budweiser,” was gold for both officer and enlisted. Everywhere else in the navy, officers wear gold and enlisted wear silver, but not in Special Warfare. Over time I learned that unlike the rest of the navy, Special Warfare officers and enlisted go through the same six-month qualification process at BUD/S, which has essentially remained unchanged since its inception. After graduation from BUD/S the few remaining students in the class attend SEAL Qualification Training (SQT), an additional half-year advanced training program that instills the skills necessary to qualify as a modern-day SEAL. Although I cannot be certain, I believe this to be the only training pipeline in the U.S. military in which both officer and enlisted share the exact same qualification standard for their military occupation. This equality in earning the title is what allows the enlisted member to wear the gold Trident following graduation from SQT. Every SEAL and their UDT (Underwater Demolition Team) predecessors before them have endured the same twenty-four weeks of SEAL basic training. This combat-proven and time-tested pipeline is the foundation for an undying unity that exists among all members of the community regardless of their rank, experience, or generation.
There I stood at the gateway to the frog family with absolutely no idea it all started with that first swim.
Unlike distance running, ocean swims require constant diligence; you must maintain a constant state of awareness of your position in the water if you expect to stay on course. Otherwise you might find yourself swimming hundreds of extra, unintentional meters. Like runners, though, distance swimmers find a rhythm and then lose themselves in thought, some focusing on a personal mantra or visualizing a future event, like graduation from BUD/S. I had my own unique method for ocean swims: find a tempo and let the mind wander, usually to something in the past. As I made my way through the water I thought about graduating from Hospital Corps School a couple of months earlier and how it was the beginning of my journey to fulfilling a personal calling to medicine. The differences I encountered between the United States Marine Corps and the Navy Hospital Corps were extreme. The marines base effectiveness on military discipline and practice it in everything they do. Perfect appearance in uniform and execution of close order drill are indicative of their lifestyle. Navy medicine was equally professional but far more relaxed. The hardened look and crisp “yes, sir” and “no, sir” of the Corps were replaced with a smiling face and “sure, let me see what I can do.” Both were effective methods, but they were dramatically different. One was for operating on the battlefield and the other on the hospital wards after the fight. Then there was BUD/S, which was all business. No babysitting here; sailors who needed it were weeded out of the system long before receiving orders to Coronado, California. At BUD/S the class is told one time where to be, when to be there, and what to have ready. If an individual can’t figure it out, he has no business being there.
I was no stranger to Coronado. I was stationed there as a young marine but never bothered to cross the base into “SEAL country.” I was focused on marine training but had no reason to bother the SEALs, and the SEALs certainly didn’t want me there. Back in those days, I never imagined I would one day train on their sacred ground with the ambition of making that ground mine.
SEALs are a particular breed. From a distance they seem like a cross between an easygoing soldier with relaxed uniform standards and an
Similar Books
