How I decided to become a Combat Controller

I can remember vividly when the spark ignited to become a special operator.

I'd never even heard of a Navy SEAL until I was in high school, and until I found out who they were, I had little interest in joining the military.

This is not surprising, I never heard of Kurt Cobain until a year after his death in 1994.  I later fell in love with Nirvana. Many years later, I discovered all their music.  I listened to it like it was fresh and new.

My childhood was very sheltered.  With an overbearing father who watched his children's every move, and a mother refused to step in, even though she knew what was going on.

I was stuck listening to Elton John and Whitney Houston. This is great music, but how did I miss the Nirvana explosion?

I guess looking back, I have Jesse Ventura and one of my co workers to thank for my burning desire to become a Combat Controller.

I used to work with a guy, who is probably still in the Army, that lived and breathed the military.  It was literally his life at the time.  When I met him, he was a few years older than I and was in the ROTC program in college.  His goal was to become a tank driver.   His ultimate goal was to be an officer in the Army, and when he told me the Army was paying for his college, I became interested... a little.  It was not enough to get me anywhere near a recruiter to sign away my life.  When you're young, that seems like forever.

 Jason and I got into a discussion about Jesse Ventura being the governor of Minnesota.  We usually talked about guns, ROTC, and airplanes.  That guy LOVED airplanes, and he even had his private pilot's license.

"Did you know Ventura was a Navy SEAL?" he asked me.

" What's that?"

And then the spark was set.

When he described what a Navy SEAL was, what they did, and just how bad ass they were, I was hooked.  " The toughest military training in the world"

There guys do secret missions,  are some of the fittest guys on the planet, scuba dive, jump out of planes, and shoot the best weapons in the military?  All you have to do is volunteer?  All you have to do is never quit?  The thought was fascinating.

Looking back on this thought, it's hilarious because there is no way to describe how much special ops training sucks.  Watching documentaries doesn't scratch the surface.

I still had no clue about Air Force special tactics until a few years later.  Combat Controllers and Pararescue, are units most people never hear about.  My co worker said the Air Force special ops focus on mountain warfare and more land based operations.  This all sounded cool, but there was so much information about the SEALs when I looked, I focused primarily on them.  They seemed the toughest.  They seemed like the best.

I later learned all special ops forces are really good at what they do, the SEALs are more publicized.  There are programs just as hard, or harder than BUD/s.

There was one big issue that kept me from pulling the trigger to join and branch of service.  I was not into guns, I was not the classic type A guy, and my dad was not thrilled about me joining the military.  My dad knew who I was, and I was not the type of guy who anyone thought of as a Combat Controller.

I had huge confidence issues as a teenager and my early twenties.  My father meant well, but he destroyed my confidence to do anything on my own.

When I describe the relationship with my parents, especially my father, I am sure millions of people can relate and have similar experiences.

My father had a horrible relationship with his parents. I know my grandfather was an alcoholic and often became violent and mean.   It was so bad for my father, he had to pay rent in high school just to live in their house.  

My father left their home, near Charleston, South Carolina, before he finished high school, and moved to where I grew up near Nashville, Tennessee.  He wanted to learn auto body repair.

My father eventually opened his own body shop and did very well financially, providing well for his family.  We had four wheelers, any toy you could think of, and even a horse.  He had boats, personal watercraft, tractors, and even an airplane.  This part of my life was great.

As I grew older, things seem to change.  There was obviously issues between my father and his parents.  There was a huge amount of resentment and hostility, which came out every time they were brought up, or we went to visit them.

Part of my father's huge financial success was the result of him proving something to his father.

It was a recurring theme, every time I would receive  something from him I heard, " My dad never gave me anything", or " My father never did anything for me"

This is hard for anyone to go through, but my father was old school.  He rarely spoke about it, and he stuffed down the feelings of a horrible childhood.

My father was a perfectionist.  He had tons of experience working on cars, home repair, construction, welding, and on and on.  He wanted his place, cars and possessions in perfect order, and he was very particular on how he wanted things done.  

As a child, nothing was done up to his standard, and by my teenage years, I gave up on trying to get his approval.  Our relationship became strained.  It was in such bad condition, I was planning my escape my last couple of years in high school.

My mother, brother, and sister went along with my father's behavior and it was rarely brought up.  I began to speak up to my father, and it made my father behave even worse.

I became the child who would never get things right.  I chose to think different than him, and it made me a giant problem for the entire family, and I became known as the family screw up.

My family continued to support my father and urged me to be quiet, to accept his behavior and keep my mouth closed.

I had something to prove to my father, and I began to search for something great to accomplish.

The thought of my family seeing me become a Navy SEAL began to burn in my mind.

There was a problem though.  I'd never been allowed to do anything on my own without my dad helping me do it " right".

I also knew I was an athletic guy and had some amount of brain. My build seemed perfect at 5' 9" and a stocky build.  I was also a really good runner, and my eye sight was nearly perfect.

My dad also encouraged me to stay close to home, go to college, and get a normal job.  Who could blame him?  I have three children now, and I get it.

My brother always excelled in school, graduated high school and got an engineering degree landing a good paying job out of college.  I was beginning to see already my path would not be that easy.  I had no clue what I wanted to do, and my GPA was below a 2.0.  Around my junior year of high school, the military was looking like a plus.

The only one knew in my family ,who served in the military, was my grandfather on my mother's side. He retired from the Navy before I was born.  As long as I knew him, he golfed, bowled, and played Nintendo.  Him and my grandmother also lived on 400 acres of land in the middle of nowhere.  He lived in the hills about 45 minutes away from where I grew up in Tennessee.  He seemed to have a great life.

This was attractive and another plus for the military.  If nothing else, I retire young.

My father always seemed to talk down about my mother's parents too.  I could tell he didn't care for the military, and he thought my grandfather was kid of lazy.

Fast forward to my Senior year of high school.

I was struggling.  

I had fallen behind so far in Algebra, all I could do was cheat.  I am not proud of it, but I became REALLY good at cheating.  The only class I did well at was English and Geography.

I am one of those guys many others can relate to, and I feel there are so many others who understand what I am about to say:
If I'm not 100 percent interested in something, I do horrible at it. ( Algebra 2)  If I'm into it, I am probably an expert. 

I researched, read websites, books, and watched documentaries on the Navy SEALs.  I knew the history, all about BUD/s, and every detail I could find on them.

Before I knew it, I was educating my friend, the military expert, who first told me about the SEALs.

I came across the BUD/s warning order and began the running, push up, sit up, swimming, and pull up work out provided to prepare candidates for BUD/s.  I felt like I was already becoming a Navy SEAL.  I even ordered a pair of the short UDT khaki shorts they wore at BUD/s.

I realized swimming was not my strong point, but I tried my best to get through the swimming workouts.  This concerned me a little, but I kept it pushed into the back of my mind.

I had a vivid imagination.  I was in my own world becoming a SEAL in my head.  This probably why my family thought I was crazy for even considering trying.  I was always in my own world, a space cadet.  I really was spaced out when I was not into something, which was a lot.  Maybe it was ADD, maybe I was irresponsible.  Maybe it was both.

There's something about the workouts when training for the crazy endurance required to become a special operator.  It is addicting, at least to me, and it created unstoppable momentum.  It overtook me.

I had quit playing baseball my sophomore year of high school, my passion as a child, and entered a state of mild depression.  

But the idea of having such a huge goal, building my body up, and becoming part of an elite unit was an incredible feeling and the depression seemed to lift.

A huge goal, combined with intense exercise, was my antidepressant.

My Senior year, I joined the cross country team, but the coach was not very good, and he didn't monitor what we were doing.  I started running on 7 to 12 mile runs everyday without building up my legs.  In about a month, I developed shin splints, which later turned into a stress fracture.  

I was on crutches and the mild depression came back.  No girlfriend, or friends for that matter, my dreams were going down the toilet.  The only thing I could focus on seemed to be out of reach, or so I thought.  I felt sorry for myself a while, but the urge came back near the end of my Senior year.

I was a little impatient.  Maybe it the Navy recruiter at the table in the high school.  He looked at me then said to the other recruiter, " Hey look at him, he looks like a SEAL."

After an argument with my dad about not doing something the right way, which meant " his way", he said, " Just go join the Navy".  My dad made it seem like it was the easy way out for someone who could not function in the real world.  

I have not cried much in my life, but I did that day. I only hoped when he came to my graduation from BUD/s, he'd change his mind.

I knew the military was full of people who signed up because they wanted steady pay and travel.  This did seem like the perfect escape scenario, and I didn't see any real downside.

On the other hand, I also wanted to be a fierce warrior, but my family showed little to no interest.  If I failed, I'd have to answer to my dad.

I was not healed up from my stress fracture, but I was off to sign up for the Navy early one Saturday morning.  The recruiter picked me up before the crack of dawn and drove me to the MEPS station.  

It was a long day of signing your life away.  Signing documents, taking a drug test, and doing a physical with 50 other guys.

 I had a feeling I should not be processing into the military yet, as we stripped down to our underwear and examined.  We had to walk like a duck, crouched down, to expose any injuries, and I was cringing.  The pain was real, but I must have hid it fine.  They probably didn't care.  Back then they the military were not turning anyone away.

The Navy had an interesting program to become a SEAL.  Since about 75 percent of guys statistically didn't make it through BUD/s, the Navy made you sign up for another job first.  After you went through the school for the ordinary job, or A school in the Navy, you'd be able to go to BUD/s to attempt the program.

I had a hard time with picking another job in the Navy.  I had no interest in anything else besides the SEALs.  I can't even remember what I picked, but I knew I'd be on ship.  This concerned me to the point I started second guessing the whole thing.  My leg wasn't fully healed, and I'd rushed into joining the Navy before graduating high school.

At the end of the process, they swear you in, and they have you sign the final documents sealing the deal.  The young Navy guy doing the final swear in was talked fast, and I could tell I was just another body signing my life away.  At the last minute, I told the guy, " I'm not ready for this yet."

" What?" he asked, with an annoyed look on his face.  

I'm not sure how often they saw this happen at MEPS, but I stuck to my decision and walked out.

It was a long day of trying to decide the next 4 years of my life, and I was exhausted.  I'd have to postpone my dreams of becoming a SEAL and deal with my issues a while longer in Tennessee.



Up next:  How I went from bailing on the Navy to joining the Air Force nearly 5 years later.