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Prologue
“What in the fuck is this? Are you God damned kidding me? I told you to get wet and fucking sandy. Didn’t I? That’s a piss poor excuse for wet and sandy. You’re going to fuck around and kill a teammate from your team, aren’t you?” the instructor bellowed as he pointed at my wet and sparsely sand covered torso.
I closed my eyes, opened my mouth, and attempted to scream, “No sir.”
The sound emitted from my mouth was scratchy and weak. I had completed the five mile run in an unsatisfactory time and was being punished for it. The human mind is simply incapable of comprehending the depth of the physical conditioning necessary to complete training to become a Navy SEAL. Regardless of a recruit’s intent, devotion, desire or perceived state of readiness prior to arrival; to actually be physically, mentally or emotionally prepared would be impossible.
He pointed toward the ocean and began screaming a blood curdling howl, “Run back out to the US Navy’s Pacific Ocean and dip yourself in it Jack-off. The Navy built this beach for me to drown you in, did you know that? I’m sick and motherfucking tired of screaming your name. Get wet Jack-off, and get sandy. Wet and fucking sandy. Lives depend on it.”
The instructor’s voice had become horse during our short duration of training. I was certain the sound of his strained vocal cords was solely due to my lack of ability. He had spent the majority of his time screaming at one person and one person only.
Me.
Exhausted, I ran as fast as I could and dove into the ocean face first. As I landed, sand and small sea shells filled my mouth. I closed my eyes to protect them from the salty water and waited for the next wave to wash over me. Now soaked from head to toe, I rose from the beach and ran the distance from the edge of the water to where he stood waiting. Satisfied I would be relieved of my punishment and sent to join the remainder of the class, I planted my boots firmly in the sand and attempted to stand erect. He stared at me as if I had committed a sinful act. His eyes resembled what I expected the devil’s to look like. As his face began to quiver from what was undoubtedly a fit of anger, he opened his mouth and did his best to scream.
“You’re not going to make it. You’re a fucking idiot. Please do us both a favor and D.O.R, Jack-off. Drop out. Ring the fucking bell three times and go join the fucking Army. You’ll never be a SEAL. I gave you simple fucking instructions, Jack-off. Wet and motherfucking sandy. You ran to my fucking ocean and washed your stupid self off, didn’t you? You took a fucking bath in my God forsaken ocean. I gave you two tasks; two things, Jack-off. Wet and what? What was your mission?”
I stood and stared, confused.
Go get wet Jack-off and get sandy.
Shit.
Wet and sandy.
I had forgotten the sandy portion of his instructions. Five days into this phase of training and I would likely be killed by the instructor in a fit of rage. If not, only two and a half more years of punishing training and I would be deployed as a Navy SEAL. I parted my lips and moved my sandy tongue to the roof of my mouth, attempting to clear it of the debris from the beach.
“Wet and sandy,” I responded in a gravelly tone.
He crossed his arms over his massive chest, “Are you fucking sandy, Jack-off?”
I lieu of responding, I dropped to the surface of the beach as if my legs had been cut from underneath me. Flat on my back, I frantically flipped my arms through the sand, doing my best to cover every respective inch of my wet torso with the small granules. Satisfied my entire body was completely covered; I scooped up a handful of sand and dumped it onto my wet face.
Silence.
He’s not screaming, he must like what I’m doing.
I reached out and retrieved another handful of official US Navy sand. I opened my mouth and released it onto my face. As the sand filled my mouth and fell into my throat, his voice broke the silence.
“This is the first thing you only half fucked up today, Jack-off. In the time it took you to complete the task, I’m sure no less than three of your teammates would have been killed. You’re only concerned with yourself. You’re wet and sandy, but three men have died in the process. Outfuckingstanding. Get out of my face. Go away. I feel ill. Your incompetence and lack of desire is making me sick,” he barked.
I jumped to my feet and attempted to run. As I brushed the sand from my eyes, I saw my class standing along the beach in the distance. Assembled into seven-man boat crews and holding rubber rafts over their heads, their bodies shook from exhaustion. My tired legs quivered underneath me as I attempted to propel myself forward. As I stumbled toward my class in an unintended zig-zag pattern, my mind filled with wonder. Without a doubt, upon my arrival yet another instructor would start punishing me. In the eyes of the instructor and the US Navy, at least one of the teams would be one man short until I arrived. In my mind this class would always be one man short.
Graham and I had agreed to join the Navy together. We went to the barber and had our long locks of hair buzzed off as a team. We walked into the recruiter’s office side-by-side, and after an assurance of being able to receive our training together, joined under the US Navy’s buddy program. We were inseparable. We were invincible. We were best friends. Settling for nothing short of becoming Navy SEALs, we began training at home as we waited for the day we were scheduled to ship off.
Graham never made it to training. An accident a week before shipping out ended his life at seventeen years of age.
I closed my eyes and attempted to find a few ounces of inner strength. As my boots dug into the loose sand, I swung my arms and screamed. Now in an all-out run toward my class, I mentally prepared myself for what may be next.
The only easy day was yesterday.
KARTER. “Hi my name’s Karter and I’m a drug addict.”
“Hi Karter.”
“I think I’ll just listen.”
“Thanks Karter,” the group said in unison.
