Warriors Who Do Violence

Being a warrior that does violence is different than being a violent man; a warrior has empathy.

All throughout history societies have looked to men who were willing to do violence and written their stories down.  Warriors have developed new and unique ways of fighting which we call art forms.  Entire cultures centered around their warriors: the Spartans, the Huns, the Samurai, the Maori, the Vikings, the Knights Templar, the list goes on.  In all ages, all regions, warriors have found their place among their fellow man.

I’ve come to believe that being a warrior comes as a predisposition, much like extroversion, You can train someone to be a soldier and do soldierly things, but only a few are actual warriors.

The warrior doesn’t fear death although he doesn’t yearn for it.  If it comes, so be it, but better it be the enemy.

The warrior can measure his violence, but ask him and he cannot identify the maximum amount of violence of which he is capable.

When doing violence, the warrior is concerned only with eliminating the threat.  He will not think about home or take the time to be afraid or sad.  He is singularly focused and as the threat increases, his self preservation instinct decreases.  If eliminating the threat requires his life then he will give it, if eliminating the threat requires he expose himself, then he will do it.

A warrior loves to do battle, but not against the weak, that is an act of a coward.

Finding someone predisposed to being a warrior is difficult, some even think they are until the threat presents itself and they come face to face with death.

 

Once a man discovers he is a warrior, once he has seen the world and the evil in it for what it really is, it is impossible to turn that off. Every situation, every environment, every moment he is analyzing threats, developing courses of action, and identifying weapons for his use.  Always.

When I was just a boy, my family went to Madrid, Spain for a new years celebration.  There were large crowds and I could tell my father was uncomfortable as he held my hand.  Most of the group we were with were happily enjoying their time when a man dropped his keys in between my father’s legs.  The man fell to his knees and started to feel around.  Dad’s hand squeezed mine tighter as he began to back up.  The drunk stood up, showed us his keys, and began to walk off when in an instant my father released my hand, grabbed the dude and slammed him violently against a nearby wall.  As he bounced off the wall, my father grabbed him by the neck and slammed him a second time yelling, “Where is my fucking wallet?”  The wallet flew out of the nearby crowd and landed at my father’s feet.

I remember distinctly the look of fear in the “drunk’s” eyes.  He was taller than my dad, but he wasn’t a warrior, and when he met the ferocity of one, fear penetrated his core. All night they had been pulling this scam, but only the warrior who is always thinking of potential threats identified it.

Realizing that you are a warrior is a paradigm shift.  You will never look at the world the same way again, and the overwhelming majority of the population doesn’t understand or see what you see.  Their prescription for your “problem” will always fail because they are trying to get you to see the world the way they do.  You are not them, you are different, accept that.

This does not give you carte blanche to act out, It takes more power and courage to show restraint than it does to be violent. Do not ignore what you feel and see, take control over it.  Don’t be too proud to seek help.

The only way to live in this world as a warrior is to be stronger than your urges, more powerful than your emotions, exert control over yourself, like a fucking warrior does.  Any weak minded fool can be loud and angry.



ETS Points of Performance

Do you know the points of performance for when you ETS?

As soon as the light turned green the anchor line cable began to hop up and down as troopers jumped from the C-130 Aircraft.  I was in the middle of the stick, so I really couldn’t see much except the parachute of the guy in front of me.  The whooshing of the cold winter air was already enveloping the plane and I could hear the distinct roar of the planes engines.  Finally we started to move forward.

I had my fist firmly in the pack of the guy in front of me as we shuffled towards the back of the plane.  Even though we were in the dead of winter, being rigged up for so long, I had beads of sweat collecting around my eyes.  I blinked furiously to keep the salty water out of my eyes since one hand held my static line and the other was on my reserve.

I was already looking past the guy in front of me at the safety when he stopped.  I tripped and bumped into him, feeling the tug of my ruck on my waist as the rhythm I had going was halted.  It had been a while since this guy jumped, and apparently he had a last minute second thought…didn’t last long though, only about a second and he jumped.

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As I handed my static line, I shot a fleeting glance to my left as I turned to my right and jumped out the door.

“Shit.”

I jumped almost at the same time as the other door.  As soon as I buried my chin into my chest, my helmet fell forward and covered my eyes.

“Shit.”

Any of you familiar with the ACH helmet know that the pads are hard as a rock when it’s cold, then as you warm them up they get soft.  My chin strap was no longer tight, and my dumbass didn’t fix it in the plane.

“One Thousand…Two thousand…Three thous…”

I felt the opening shock and lifted up my helmet to quickly check my chute.  All I saw was canopy in my face.  I was directly on top of another guy’s parachute.

“Shit.”

I tried to stand up and run off his chute, but I couldn’t get my footing with my ruck and I began to slide off the center towards the edge of his chute.  Then his canopy began to taco around me.

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“Shit.”

I reached frantically for the edges of his parachute and pushed myself off.  He was already pulling slip as I got under canopy again.  I looked up and realized quickly that I was drifting backwards towards him again.

“Shit.”

I spread eagled as wide as I could and bounced off of his risers.  It worked!  I bounced off and was about to be on my merry way when it felt like someone cut my chute off.  When I bounced off, I lost all my air and began to free fall again.

“Shit.”

Instantly I went from spread eagle back to tight body position and wrapped my hand around my reserve handle.  A millisecond before I pulled it I felt a second shock.  Without letting go of the reserve handle I looked up and saw I was under a good canopy.  The other guy was more than 100 feet above me vigorously pulling slip when he yelled down, “You ok?”  I responded, “Yeah, you?”  “Yeah, get the fuck away from me.”  I smiled as I looked down, the ground was already less than 50 feet away, I released my ruck and realized I was hauling ass backwards.

“Shit.”

 

When I jumped that day, a lot of shit went wrong, but I was trained and prepared for every scenario.  All of that happened in probably less than 30 seconds; I needed almost no time to react.  I can also guarantee that probably every paratrooper that read this knew exactly what to do as he read the story as well.

Being prepared is the difference between life and death.

Knowing that, you still have no fucking plan on what you are going to do when you get out?

You need to have your finances in order, know why you’re getting out, know where you want to live, and know what you want to do, and you need to do that at least six months out.

I’ve seen far too many soldiers think that getting out of the military is going to magically solve all their problems, it’s not.  You need to get yourself ready before you become another statistic…you need to be prepared for that shitty jump.

-LJF




Why you should hire a combat veteran

Even giants like McDonald’s need combat veterans on staff, I realized that yesterday.

Before I even begin to recount this story, I want to start by saying this is in no way a bad review of McDonald’s, I fed my tribe of 5 for $21, I’m not going to complain about that.  I did, however, notice some things that I think businesses need to take note of.

Yesterday we decided to have lunch at McDonald’s because the kids love it there.  They enjoy the french fries and the play area, and I enjoy the cost of the food.  We went to the restaurant that many readers of this blog are familiar with, you know, the one on Skibo road near Fort Bragg?  I looked down at my receipt of $21 and the MBA in me marveled at how they made money, realizing that their margins must certainly be in the pennies per item.  Well, after about five minutes of pondering the profit margins of this fast food behemoth I realized that I was not going to be getting my food very quickly, several people in front of me in line were still waiting, and it wasn’t looking good for them either.

I leaned back to watch intently on the operation, switching from MBA mode where I was thinking about the supply chain, volumes, and margins, to military mode and I began analyzing the leadership in this fast food establishment.

Although there were at least 8 employees on staff, there were only three employees working.  One was making the food, one was taking orders inside, and one was taking orders for the drive through.  These three were trying diligently to keep up with the demand, but were failing to meet customer expectations. I felt like a lane grader from my ROTC days as I had the thought that any Ranger Instructor would agree with, “If I can’t tell who’s in charge, someone is getting a no-go.”

The prep station was a mess.  Someone had started to unload a box but didn’t finish, and now it sat right in the area where they prep trays and bags for customers.  That created further disorganization and chaos.  The next order came up, and as one of the employees handed it to an older gentleman next to me she commented, “I know it was for here, but we’re out of trays.”  I noticed three trays under the box in the prep station, and as I looked to my right, five more by the trash can.

One employee was standing next to the fryer watching something cook…don’t those things have timers?  I know i’ve heard that annoying alarm.

Another walked by several times, apparently looking for apple pies; don’t know if she found them.

A guy with a different shirt, maybe the manager?  Doesn’t he notice there are four employees standing around doing nothing but staring at screens?  Guess not.  Where’s he going, there’s 15 people waiting on food?

I looked at my wife, “They’re staffed appropriately, but they’re not using the personnel properly.”  She rolled her eyes, as she often does when my mind wanders this way and gave me a soft kiss on the cheek.

It was at that moment that I realized I could walk five miles onto Fort Bragg, grab any guy with Sergeant Stripes and a maroon beret, with absolutely zero training and place him in that McDonald’s and in five minutes he would have that place totally unfucked.  Everyone would be doing something…mostly cleaning (the place needs it).  No one would be standing around, and everyone would know what everyone else was doing.  Most of all, everyone would know who was in charge.

That Airborne E-5 would notice the same things that I did:  You, the prep station needs cleaned and someone needs to be stationed there, getting orders ready, nothing else.  Two people cooking, not one.  You there, stop staring at the fucking fryer, it has a loud ass alarm when the shit is ready, go clean something.  What are you doing?  Looking for apple pies?  Ok, find them, and don’t walk by trash on the ground again, you pick it up and throw it away, slob.  You, go pick up all the trays around the restaurant.  You, you’re not on break, put out the cigarette and go clean the bathroom, smells like shit in there.  That’s seven…he still has two more people to assign tasks to.

McDonald’s, the fast food giant, which clearly knows how to make money, that analyzes every single detail of the business, made one critical error:  they didn’t hire a leader.  They wasted salaries of unused labor and frustration on the part of customers, which will cost them money as myself and others will certainly be more apprehensive about going there again in the future.

What the combat veteran has is a keen understanding of how to get a team working united towards a common goal.  He has trained himself to see the battlefield and through the chaos, identify weaknesses, and move quickly to stop them.  He has been under a stress that you simply cannot imagine, and he did it with a smile on his face.  He may know nothing about your business, but he knows how to lead, and it’s not the stuff you’re going to learn from reading a John C. Maxwell book, it’s the stuff they make movies out of.

Your people are your most important asset, and they need leadership.  The US Military knows how to train leaders. Go ahead and exploit that for your gain, I know plenty of guys that would be willing to work for you.

-LJF



Don’t be an absent Father

Sometimes being a father can be disgusting.  The following story is not for the faint of heart…

Afghanistan 2005

During the first Afghan elections, someone had gotten upset that a local Mullah was supporting the elections and placed a bomb under his chair.  When he sat down during the full service, the bomb exploded, killing him and injuring people in the full mosque.  When we arrived with the EOD team, the chaos had mostly died down, but the elders were very distraught.  They were afraid that there might be additional devices and asked us to clear the mosque and see what we could find.  It was precarious not just because the mosque could still be booby-trapped, but also because American soldiers were entering a mosque and that was generally considered a faux pas.

Myself, SSG Carroll, SGT Harrell and a couple EOD guys made our way towards the front entrance.  I noticed bits of burnt flesh stuck to the window as we checked the door.  As soon as we entered the building, I was hit by the smell.  Imagine everything inside of your body, blood, bile, piss, shit, even skin and hair all exposed and charred and left for hours.  My eyes began to water and I could feel my stomach churning already.

I looked around the mostly empty room and could immediately identify where the bomb went off.  The columns on my side were mostly empty, but on the other side were still splattered with blood and small bits of flesh.  Little pieces of bone littered the carpet and we moved slowly around the room.  None of us spoke, besides the random “fuck” or “shit”, I think because most of us were trying to keep from lurching right then and there.

Once our initial pass was done, I approached the location of the blast and I felt a squish under my feet.  I looked down and the carpet was so saturated with blood that it began to pool at the edge of my boot.  I could tell by the aftermath that although his body had been blown to bits, a large chunk slammed into the column and blood poured out right where I was standing.  Some poor soul had to drag what was left of him out.

I looked up in my disgust as the EOD approached the blast site.  “You good?”  I managed to utter without vomiting, he looked at me and nodded and I started towards the door to get out.  Carroll and I made eye contact and I nodded towards the door as the both of us walked quickly to the exit.  As soon as the door opened, Carroll looked at me and said, “That fucking sme…” he couldn’t finish the sentence before dry heaving.  I felt my own stomach bubble as I watched him, “not in front of the mosque dude!”  We both quickly ran down the steps into the courtyard to catch our breath.

CONUS Present day

The baby had something in his mouth as he sat in the tub.  I didn’t notice it when I put him in there, but when I stuck the toothbrush in there, something came out with it and as I looked at his little face, I noticed something odd.  “Are you chewing on something Ben?”  He looked up at me and smiled while keeping his lips together.  It forced his cheeks full…that’s when I knew.  He wouldn’t let me in there, so I held his nose and when his mouth opened I went in and began fishing out this white gooey substance.  It seemed like it kept coming forever.  Jonathan saw me doing it and almost barfed right there in the bathtub.  I had a vision of fishing puke out of a tub full of toys, and i’ve already had to do it with a turd, didn’t really want to do it with puke.  “Look away Jonathan!”  He turned and dry heaved in the corner as I finished clearing his baby brother’s mouth, who was now in full wailing mode.  Turns out Mom gave him a baby-bell before bath.

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I was walking down the hallway when I felt something under my toe.  I looked down and picked it up with my bare hands without even thinking about it.  As I held this object I was able to examine it much more closely.  It was a dark brown, almost black squishy ball.  It was a bit moist, and oozed some juice as I squished it.  My wife turned and looked at me as I held it.  The concern in her eyes told me that she was having the same thought I was, “Is this shit?”  There was only one way to find out for sure.  I brought the small ball to my face and gave it a sniff.

whew…a cocoa puff.

 

Look, you can be an absent dad, making your wife take care of everything, but she will begin to resent you, the kids won’t know and trust you, and even though you’ll miss out on things like fishing out a turd from the tub, you’ll also miss out on all the wonderful things that come with being a dad.

There is no greater joy in this world than having one of your kids want to share their lives with you.  Unless you make the sacrifices…the sometimes disgusting sacrifices…you’ll miss out on life’s greatest reward.

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-LJF