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CONTENTS

CoverTitlePageCopyrightDedicationPreface

CHAPTERONE:StartYourDaywithaTaskCompletedCHAPTERTWO:YouCan’tGoItAloneCHAPTERTHREE:OnlytheSizeofYourHeartMattersCHAPTERFOUR:Life’sNotFair—DriveOn!CHAPTERFIVE:FailureCanMakeYouStrongerCHAPTERSIX:YouMustDareGreatlyCHAPTERSEVEN:StandUptotheBulliesCHAPTEREIGHT:RisetotheOccasionCHAPTERNINE:GivePeopleHopeCHAPTERTEN:Never,EverQuit!

TheUniversityofTexasCommencementSpeechAcknowledgmentsAbouttheAuthorNewsletters

Tomythreechildren:Bill,John,andKelly.NofathercouldbeprouderofhiskidsthanIamofyou.Everymomentinmylifehasbeenmadebetterbecauseyouareintheworld.

Andtomywife,Georgeann,mybestfriend,whomadeallofmydreamspossible.WherewouldIbewithoutyou?

PREFACE

OnMay 17, 2014, I was honored to give the commencement speech for thegraduating class from the University of Texas at Austin. Even though theuniversitywasmy almamater, Iwas concerned that amilitary officer,whosecareer had been defined bywar,might not find awelcoming audience amongcollege students. But to my great surprise, the graduating class embraced thespeech. The ten lessons I learned fromNavy SEAL training, which were thebasis for my remarks, seemed to have a universal appeal. They were simplelessonsthatdealwithovercomingthetrialsofSEALtraining,butthetenlessonswere equally important in dealingwith the challenges of life—nomatterwhoyou are.Over the past three years, I have been stopped on the street by greatfolkstellingmetheirownstories:Howtheydidn’tbackdownfromthesharks,how they didn’t ring the bell, or howmaking their bed everymorning helpedthem through tough times. They all wanted to knowmore about how the tenlessonsshapedmylifeandaboutthepeoplewhoinspiredmeduringmycareer.Thissmallbookisanattempttodoso.Eachchaptergivesalittlemorecontextto the individual lessons andalso adds a short story about someof thepeoplewhoinspiredmewiththeirdiscipline,theirperseverance,theirhonor,andtheircourage.Ihopeyouenjoythebook!

CHAPTERONE

StartYourDaywithaTaskCompleted

Ifyouwanttochangetheworld…

startoffbymakingyourbed.

The barracks at basic SEAL training is a nondescript three-story buildinglocatedon thebeachatCoronado,California, justonehundredyards from thePacificOcean.Thereisnoair-conditioninginthebuilding,andatnight,withthewindowsopen,youcanhear the tide roll in and the surfpoundingagainst thesand.

Rooms in the barracks are spartan. In the officers’ room, where I berthedwiththreeotherclassmates,therewerefourbeds,aclosettohangyouruniforms,andnothingelse.ThosemorningsthatIstayedinthebarracksIwouldrolloutofmyNavy“rack”and immediatelybegin theprocessofmakingmybed. Itwasthe first task of the day. A day that I knew would be filled with uniforminspections,longswims,longerruns,obstaclecourses,andconstantharassmentfromtheSEALinstructors.

“Attention!” shouted the class leader, Lieutenant Junior Grade Dan’lSteward, as the instructor entered the room.Standing at the foot of the bed, Isnapped my heels together and stood up straight as a chief petty officerapproached my position. The instructor, stern and expressionless, began theinspectionbychecking thestarch inmygreenuniformhat toensure theeight-sided“cover”wascrispandcorrectlyblocked.Movingfromtoptobottom,hiseyeslookedovereveryinchofmyuniform.Werethecreasesintheblouseandtrousersaligned?Wasthebrassonthebeltshinedtoamirrorlikeradiance?Weremybootspolishedbrightenoughsohecouldseehisfingersintheirreflection?SatisfiedthatImetthehighstandardsexpectedofaSEALtrainee,hemovedtoinspectthebed.

Thebedwasas simpleas the room,nothingbut a steel frameanda singlemattress.Abottomsheetcoveredthemattress,andoverthatwasatopsheet.Agraywoolblanket tucked tightlyunder themattressprovidedwarmth from thecoolSanDiegoevenings.Asecondblanketwasexpertlyfoldedintoarectangleat the footof thebed.A singlepillow,madeby theLighthouse for theBlind,wascenteredatthetopofthebedandintersectedataninety-degreeanglewiththe blanket at the bottom. This was the standard. Any deviation from thisexacting requirement would be cause for me to “hit the surf” and then rollaroundonthebeachuntilIwascoveredheadtotoewithwetsand—referredtoasa“sugarcookie.”

Standingmotionless, Icouldsee the instructoroutof thecornerofmyeye.Hewearilylookedatmybed.Bendingover,hecheckedthehospitalcornersandthensurveyedtheblanketandthepillowtoensuretheywerecorrectlyaligned.

Then,reachingintohispocket,hepulledoutaquarterandflippeditintotheairseveral times toensure Iknew the final testof thebedwascoming.Withonefinalflipthequarterflewhighintotheairandcamedownonthemattresswithalightbounce.Itjumpedseveralinchesoffthebed,highenoughfortheinstructortocatchitinhishand.

Swingingaroundtofaceme,theinstructorlookedmeintheeyeandnodded.He never said a word. Making my bed correctly was not going to be anopportunityforpraise.Itwasexpectedofme.Itwasmyfirsttaskoftheday,anddoing it right was important. It demonstrated my discipline. It showed myattention todetail, andat theendof theday itwouldbea reminder that Ihaddonesomethingwell,somethingtobeproudof,nomatterhowsmallthetask.

ThroughoutmylifeintheNavy,makingmybedwastheoneconstantthatIcouldcountoneveryday.AsayoungSEALensignaboardtheUSSGrayback,aspecial operation submarine, I was berthed in sick bay, where the beds werestackedfourhigh.ThesaltyolddoctorwhoransickbayinsistedthatImakemyrackeverymorning.Heoftenremarkedthatif thebedswerenotmadeandtheroomwasnot clean, howcould the sailors expect the bestmedical care?As Ilaterfoundout,thissentimentofcleanlinessandorderappliedtoeveryaspectofmilitarylife.

Thirty years later, the Twin Towers came down in New York City. ThePentagon was struck, and brave Americans died in an airplane overPennsylvania.

At the time of the attacks, I was recuperating inmy home from a seriousparachute accident. A hospital bed had been wheeled into my governmentquarters, and I spent most of the day lying on my back, trying to recover. Iwantedoutofthatbedmorethananythingelse.LikeeverySEALIlongedtobewithmyfellowwarriorsinthefight.

WhenIwasfinallywellenoughtoliftmyselfunaidedfromthebed,thefirstthing I didwas pull the sheets up tight, adjust the pillow, andmake sure thehospital bed lookedpresentable to all thosewho enteredmyhome. Itwasmywayofshowing that Ihadconquered the injuryandwasmovingforwardwithmylife.

Within fourweeks of 9/11, Iwas transferred to theWhiteHouse,where Ispent thenext twoyears in thenewlyformedOfficeofCombattingTerrorism.ByOctober2003, Iwas in Iraqatourmakeshiftheadquarterson theBaghdadairfield.ForthefirstfewmonthswesleptonArmycots.Nevertheless,Iwouldwakeeverymorning,rollupmysleepingbag,placethepillowattheheadofthe

cot,andgetreadyfortheday.InDecember 2003,U.S. forces captured SaddamHussein.Hewas held in

confinementduringwhichtimewekepthiminasmallroom.HealsosleptonanArmycot,butwiththeluxuryofsheetsandablanket.OnceadayIwouldvisitSaddamtoensuremysoldierswereproperlycaringforhim.Inoticed,withsomesenseofamusement,thatSaddamdidnotmakehisbed.Thecoverswerealwayscrumpledatthefootofhiscotandherarelyseemedinclinedtostraightenthem.

During theensuing tenyears, Ihad thehonorofworkingwithsomeof thefinestmenandwomenthisnationhaseverproduced—fromgeneralstoprivates,from admirals to seamen recruits, from ambassadors to clerk typists. TheAmericanswhodeployedoverseas insupportof thewareffortcamewillingly,sacrificingmuchtoprotectthisgreatnation.

Theyallunderstoodthatlifeishardandthatsometimesthereislittleyoucandotoaffecttheoutcomeofyourday.Inbattlesoldiersdie,familiesgrieve,yourdaysare longandfilledwithanxiousmoments.Yousearchforsomething thatcangiveyousolace,thatcanmotivateyoutobeginyourday,thatcanbeasenseofprideinanoftentimesuglyworld.Butitisnotjustcombat.Itisdailylifethatneedsthissamesenseofstructure.Nothingcanreplacethestrengthandcomfortofone’sfaith,butsometimesthesimpleactofmakingyourbedcangiveyoutheliftyouneedtostartyourdayandprovideyouthesatisfactiontoenditright.

Ifyouwant tochangeyour life andmaybe theworld—startoffbymakingyourbed!

CHAPTERTWO

YouCan’tGoItAlone

Ifyouwanttochangetheworld…

findsomeonetohelpyoupaddle.

IlearnedearlyoninSEALtrainingthevalueofteamwork,theneedtorelyonsomeoneelsetohelpyouthroughthedifficult tasks.Forthoseofuswhowere“tadpoles”hopingtobecomeNavyfrogmen,aten-footrubberraftwasusedtoteachusthisvitallesson.

Everywhere we went during the first phase of SEAL training we wererequiredtocarrytheraft.Weplaceditonourheadsasweranfromthebarracks,acrossthehighway,tothechowhall.Wecarrieditinalow-slungpositionasweranupanddowntheCoronadosanddunes.Wepaddledtheboatendlesslyfromnorthtosouthalongthecoastlineandthroughthepoundingsurf,sevenmen,allworkingtogethertogettherubberboattoitsfinaldestination.

Butwe learned something else on our journeywith the raft. Occasionally,oneoftheboatcrewmemberswassickorinjured,unabletogiveit100percent.Ioftenfoundmyselfexhaustedfromthetrainingday,ordownwithacoldortheflu.Onthosedays,theothermemberspickeduptheslack.Theypaddledharder.Theydugdeeper.Theygaveme their rations forextrastrength.Andwhen thetimecame,laterintraining,Ireturnedthefavor.Thesmallrubberboatmadeusrealizethatnomancouldmakeitthroughtrainingalone.NoSEALcouldmakeitthroughcombataloneandbyextensionyouneededpeopleinyourlifetohelpyouthroughthedifficulttimes.

Neverwas theneed forhelpmore apparent tome than twenty-fiveyears laterwhenIcommandedalltheSEALsontheWestCoast.

IwasthecommodoreofNavalSpecialWarfareGroupONEinCoronado.ANavy captain, I had by now spent the past several decades leading SEALsaround the world. I was out for a routine parachute jump when things wentterriblywrong.

We were in a C-130 Hercules aircraft climbing to twelve thousand feetpreparing for the jump. Looking out the back of the aircraft, we could see abeautifulCaliforniaday.Not a cloud in the sky.ThePacificOceanwascalm,andfromthisaltitudeyoucouldseetheborderofMexicojustafewmilesaway.

Thejumpmasteryelledto“standby.”Nowontheedgeoftheramp,Icouldseestraightdowntotheground.Thejumpmasterlookedmeintheeye,smiled,and shouted, “Go,go,go!” Idoveoutof theaircraft, arms fully extendedandlegs tucked slightly behindmyback.The prop blast from the aircraft sentmetiltingforwarduntilmyarmscaughtairandIleveledout.

Iquicklycheckedmyaltimeter,madesureIwasn’tspinning,andthenlookedaroundmetoensurenojumperwastooclosetome.TwentysecondslaterIhadfallentothepullaltitudeof5,500feet.

Suddenly, I looked below me and another jumper had slid beneath me,intersectingmypath to theground.Hepulledhis ripcord,andIcouldsee thepilot chute deploying the main parachute from his backpack. Immediately, Ithrustmyarmstomyside,forcingmyheadto thegroundinanattempt togetawayfromtheblossomingchute.Itwastoolate.

Thejumper’schutepoppedopeninfrontofmelikeanairbag,hittingmeat120milesanhour.Ibouncedoffthemaincanopyandspunoutofcontrol,barelyconscious from the impact. For seconds I spun head over heels, trying to getstable again. I couldn’t see my altimeter and was unaware of how far I hadfallen.

Instinctively,Ireachedformyripcordandpulled.ThepilotchutejettisonedfromitssmallpouchinthebackoftheparachutebutwrappedaroundmylegasIcontinued to tumble toward the ground.As I struggled to untanglemyself thesituation got worse. The main parachute partially deployed but in doing sotwirledaroundmyotherleg.

Craningmynecktowardthesky,Icouldseemylegswereboundbytwosetsofrisers,thelongnylonstrapsthatconnectthemainparachutetotheharnessonmyback.Oneriserhadwrappedaroundoneleg,theotherriseraroundtheotherleg.Themainparachutewasfullyoutofthebackpackbuthungupsomewhereonmybody.

AsIstruggledtobreakfreeoftheentanglement,suddenlyIfelt thecanopyliftoffmybodyandbegintoopen.Lookingtowardmylegs,Iknewwhatwascomingnext.

Withinseconds, thecanopycaughtair.Thetworisers,onewrappedaroundeach leg, suddenly and violently pulled apart, taking my legs with them.Mypelvisseparatedinstantlyastheforceoftheopeningrippedmylowertorso.Thethousandsmallmusclesthatconnectthepelvistothebodyweretornfromtheirhinges.

My mouth dropped open and I let out a scream that could be heard inMexico. Searing pain arched through my body, sending waves pulsatingdownwardtomypelvisandupwardtomyhead.Violent,muscularconvulsionsrackedmyuppertorso,shootingmorepainthroughmyarmsandlegs.Now,likehavinganout-of-bodyexperience,Ibecameawareofmyscreamingandtriedtocontrolit,butthepainwastoointense.

Stillheaddownand falling too fast, I turnedmyselfupright in theharness,relievingsomeofthepressureonmypelvisandback.

Fifteenhundredfeet.Ihadfallenoverfourthousandfeetbeforetheparachutedeployed.Thegood

news:Ihadafullcanopyovermyhead.Thebadnews:Iwasbrokenapartbytheimpactoftheopening.

Ilandedovertwomilesfromthedropzone.Withinafewminutesthedropzone crew and an ambulance arrived. I was taken to the trauma hospital indowntownSanDiego.By thenextday Iwasoutofsurgery.Theaccidenthadrippedmypelvisapartbyalmost five inches.Themuscles inmystomachhadbecome detached from the pelvic bone and themuscles in my back and legswere severely damaged from the opening shock. I had a large titanium platescrewed intomypelvisanda longscapularscrewdrilled intomybackside forstability.

Thisseemedliketheendofmycareer.TobeaneffectiveSEALyouhadtobephysicallyfit.Myrehabilitationwasgoingtotakemonths,maybeyears,andtheNavywasrequiredtoconductamedicalevaluationtodetermineifIwasfitforduty.Ileftthehospitalsevendayslaterbutremainedbedriddenatmyhomeforthenexttwomonths.

All my life I had the feeling I was invincible. I believed that my innateathletic abilities could getme out ofmost perilous situations.And, up to thispoint, I had been right.Many times duringmy career I had encountered life-threatening incidents: midair collisions in another parachute; uncontrolleddescent in a minisub; nearly falling hundreds of feet off an oil rig; gettingtrapped beneath a sinking boat; demolition that exploded prematurely; andcountlessmore—incidentswhereasplitseconddecidedthefatebetweenlivinganddying.EachtimeIhadsomehowmanagedtomaketherightdecision,andeachtimeIwasphysicallyfitenoughtoovercomethechallengebeforeme.Notthistime.

Now, lying inbed,all I feltwasself-pity.But thatwouldnot last for long.Mywife,Georgeann,hadbeengivennursingduties.She cleanedmywounds,gavemetherequireddailyshots,andchangedmybedpan.Butmostimportantly,sheremindedmeofwhoIwas.IhadnevergivenuponanythinginmylifeandsheassuredmethatIwasnotgoingtostartnow.Sherefusedtoletmefeelsorryformyself.ItwasthekindoftoughlovethatIneeded,andasthedayswentby,Igotbetter.

Myfriendscamebythehouse,calledconstantly,andhelpedwithwhatever

they could.My boss, Admiral Eric Olson, somehow found a way around thepolicy that required theNavy toconductamedicalevaluationofmyability tocontinuetoserveasaSEAL.Hissupportformelikelysavedmycareer.

Duringmy time in theSEALTeams Ihadnumerous setbacks, and ineachcase,someonecameforwardtohelpme:someonewhohadfaithinmyabilities;someonewhosawpotentialinmewhereothersmightnot;someonewhoriskedtheirownreputationtoadvancemycareer.IhaveneverforgottenthosepeopleandIknowthatanythingIachievedinmylifewasaresultofotherswhohavehelpedmealongtheway.

None of us are immune from life’s tragicmoments. Like the small rubberboatwehadinbasicSEALtraining,ittakesateamofgoodpeopletogetyoutoyour destination in life. You cannot paddle the boat alone. Find someone toshare your lifewith.Make asmany friends as possible, and never forget thatyoursuccessdependsonothers.

CHAPTERTHREE

OnlytheSizeofYourHeartMatters

Ifyouwanttochangetheworld…

measureapersonbythesizeoftheirheart.

I ran to thebeachwithmyblack, rubber flippers tuckedunderneathmy rightarmandmymaskinmylefthand.Comingtoparaderest,Ianchoredtheflippersin thesoft sand, leaning themagainsteachother to forma teepee.Standing tomy right and leftwereother students.Dressed ingreen tee shirts, khaki swimtrunks, neoprene booties, and a small life jacket, we were preparing for ourmorningtwo-mileswim.

The life jacketwasasmall, rubberizedbladder that inflatedonlywhenyoupulledthehandle.Amongthestudents,itwasconsideredshamefulifyouhadtouseyour life jacket.Still, theSEAL instructorswere required to inspect everylife jacket before each swim. This inspection also gave the instructors anopportunityformoreharassment.

The surfoffCoronado thatdaywasabouteight feethigh.Thewaveswerecominginlinesofthree,plungingwitharoaringsoundthatmadeeachstudent’sheartbeatabitfaster.Astheinstructorslowlymoveddownthelinehecametothemandirectlytomyright.Thestudent,aseamanrecruitandbrand-newtotheNavy, was about five foot four in height. The SEAL instructor, a highlydecorated Vietnam vet, was well above six foot two and towered over thesmallerman.

After inspecting the student’s life jacket, the instructor lookedover his leftshoulder toward the pounding surf and then reached down and grabbed thestudent’sflippers.Holdingthemclosetotheyoungsailor’sface,hesaidquietly,“Doyoureallywanttobeafrogman?”

The sailor stood up straight, with a look of defiance in his eyes. “Yes,instructor,Ido!”heshouted.

“You’reatinylittleman,”theinstructorsaid,wavingtheflippersinhisface.“Thosewavesouttherecouldbreakyouinhalf.”Hepausedandglancedtowardtheocean.“Youshouldthinkaboutquittingnowbeforeyougethurt.”

Even out of the corner of my eye I could see the student’s jaw begin totighten.

“Iwon’tquit!”thesailorreplied,drawingouteachword.Thentheinstructorleanedinandwhisperedsomethinginthestudent’sear.Icouldn’tmakeoutthewordsoverthebreakingwaves.

Afterallthetraineeswereinspectedtheinstructorsorderedusintothewater,and we began our swim. An hour later, I crawled out of the surf zone, andstandingonthebeachwastheyoungseamanrecruit.Hehadfinishedtheswimneartheheadoftheclass.Laterthatday,Ipulledhimasideandaskedwhatthe

instructor had whispered to him. He smiled and said proudly, “Prove mewrong!”

SEALtrainingwasalwaysaboutprovingsomething.Provingthatsizedidn’tmatter.Provingthatthecolorofyourskinwasn’timportant.Provingthatmoneydidn’tmakeyoubetter.Proving that determination andgritwere alwaysmoreimportantthantalent.Iwasfortunatetolearnthatlessonayearbeforetrainingbegan.

As I boarded the city bus in downtown San Diego I was excited about theprospectofvisitingthebasicSEALtrainingfacilityacrossthebayinCoronado.Iwasafirst-classmidshipmanattendingmysummercruiseaspartoftheNavalReserveOfficersTrainingCorp(ROTC)program.Asafirst-classmidshipmanIwasbetweenmyjuniorandsenioryearsincollege,andifallwentwell,IhopedtobecommissionedthefollowingsummerandheadofftoSEALtraining.ItwasthemiddleoftheweekandIhadreceivedpermissionfrommyROTCinstructortodeviatefromtheplannedtrainingaboardoneoftheshipsinportandmakemywaytoCoronado.

Igotoff thebusoutsidethefamedHoteldelCoronadoandwalkedaboutamiledowntheroadtothebeachsideoftheNavalAmphibiousBase.Ipassedbyseveral Korean War–vintage buildings that housed Underwater DemolitionTeamsElevenandTwelve.Outsidetheone-storyramblingbrickbuildingwasalarge wooden sign depicting Freddy the Frog, a large green web-footedamphibiancarryingastickofTNTandsmokingacigar.ThiswasthehomeoftheWest Coast frogmen, those intrepidmask-and-fin warriors whosemilitaryancestorshadclearedthebeachesofIwoJima,Tarawa,Guam,andInchon.Myheart began to beat a little faster.Thiswas exactlywhere Iwanted to be in ayear.

AsIpassedtheUnderwaterDemolitionTeamsthenextbuildingbelongedtoSEALTeamOne, at the time a new breed of jungle fighterswho had earnedtheirreputationinVietnamassomeofthetoughestmeninthemilitary.Anotherlargewooden sign showedSammy theSeal, a dagger in one hand and a darkcloakwrappedaroundhisshoulders.AsIwouldlaterlearn,thefrogmenandtheSEALswereoneandthesame.AllthemenweregraduatesofSEALtraining,allfrogmenatheart.

Finally, Iapproached the lastgovernmentbuildingon thebeachsideof thenaval base. On the outer facade of the building it read, BASIC UNDERWATER

DEMOLITION SEAL TRAINING. Standing outside the main entrance were twoSEAL instructors surrounded by someyoung high school sea cadets.The twoSEALstoweredover thehighschoolstudents.SeniorChiefPettyOfficerDickRay stood six foot threewith broad shoulders, a thinwaist, a deep tan, and adarkpencil-thinmustache.Hewaseverything IexpectedaSEALto look like.Standingnext tohimwasChiefPettyOfficerGeneWence.Welloversixfeet,Wencewasbuiltlikealinebacker,withimposingbicepsandasteely-eyedglarethatcautionedeveryonenottogettooclose.

The sea cadets were ushered into the building. With some trepidation, Ifollowedthemandstoppedatthefrontdesk.Itoldtheyoungsailormanningthedeskmystory.IwasamidshipmanfromtheUniversityofTexasandhopedtotalkwith someone aboutSEAL training.The sailor left his deskmomentarily,returningtoinformmethatthefirstphaseofficer,LieutenantDougHuth,wouldbegladtotalkwithmeinafewminutes.

AsIwaitedtobecalledintoLieutenantHuth’sofficeIslowlywalkedupanddownthehall,lookingatthepicturesthatadornedthewalls.TheywerephotosofSEALsinVietnam,guysrisingoutofthewaist-deepmudalongtheMekongDelta.PicturesofcamouflagedSEALplatoons returningfromanightmission.Men loadedwithautomaticweaponsandbandoliersofammunitionboardingaSwiftboatheadingintothejungle.

DownthelonghallIsawanothermanlookingatthephotos.Acivilianbyhisattire,hewasslightlybuilt,almostfrail,andamopofdarkhairhungBeatle-likeoverhisears.Heseemed tobestaring inaweat the incrediblewarriorswhoseactionswereportrayedinthephotos.Inmymind,Iwonderedifhethoughthehadwhat it took tobe aNavySEAL.Looking at thosepictures, didhe reallythinkhewastoughenoughtoendurethetraining?Didhethinkhissmallframecouldcarryaheavyrucksackandathousandroundsofammunition?Hadn’theseen the twoSEAL instructorswhowere just at the front door?Massivemenwhoclearlyhadtherightstuff?Ifeltapangofsorrowthatsomeonehadmisledthisfellow,maybeencouragedhimtoleavehiscomfortablelifeasacivilianandtrySEALtraining.

Afewminuteslater,thesailorfromthefrontdeskcalmlywalkeddownthecorridor and escorted me to Lieutenant Huth’s office. Doug Huth was also arecruiting poster for the SEALs; tall, muscular, with brown, wavy hair, helookedverysharpinhisNavykhakiuniform.

IsatinachairacrossfromHuth’sdesk,andwetalkedaboutSEALtrainingandthedemandsoftheprogram.HuthtoldmeabouthisexperienceinVietnam

andwhatlifewouldbelikeintheTeamsifIgraduatedfromSEALtraining.Outof the corner of my eye, I could see the thin man in civilian clothes as hecontinuedtogazeatthephotosonthewall.Likeme,hemusthavebeenwaitingtoseeLieutenantHuthinhopesoflearningmoreaboutSEALtraining.Itmademe feel good about myself knowing that I was clearly stronger and moreprepared thananothermanwho thoughthecouldsurvive the rigorsofbeingaSEAL.

Inthemiddleofourconversation,LieutenantHuthsuddenlystoppedtalking,lookedupfromhisdesk,andyelled to themanin thehall. IstoodupasHuthmotionedthethinmantocomeintohisoffice.

“Bill, this is TommyNorris,” he said, giving the thinman a big bear hug.“Tommy was the last SEALMedal of Honor recipient from Vietnam,” Huthadded.Norrissmiled,somewhatembarrassedbytheintroduction.Ismiledback,shook his hand, and laughed atmyself. This seemingly frail,mop-hairedmanwhoIdoubtedcouldmakeitthroughtrainingwasLieutenantTomNorris.TomNorris,whohadservedinVietnam,hadonsuccessivenightsgonedeepbehindenemy lines to rescue two downed airmen. This was Tom Norris who, onanothermission,was shot in the facebyNorthVietnamese forces and left fordead only to be rescued by Petty Officer Mike Thornton, who would laterreceivetheMedalofHonorforthoseactions.ThiswasTomNorris,whobattledbackfromhis injury tobeaccepted into theFBI’s firstHostageRescueTeam.This quiet, reserved, humblemanwas one of the toughest SEALs in the longhistoryoftheTeams.

In1969,TommyNorriswasalmostbootedoutofSEALtraining.Theysaidhe was too small, too thin, and not strong enough. But much like the youngsailorinmyclass,Norrisprovedthemallwrongandonceagainshowedthatit’snotthesizeofyourflippersthatcount,justthesizeofyourheart.

CHAPTERFOUR

Life’sNotFair—DriveOn!

Ifyouwanttochangetheworld…

getoverbeingasugarcookieandkeepmovingforward.

Irantothetopofthesandduneandwithouthesitationsprinteddowntheotherside, heading full speed toward the Pacific Ocean. Fully clothed inmy greenutilities, short-billedhat, and combat boots, I doveheadfirst into thewaves astheypoundedthebeachoffCoronado,California.

Emergingsoakingwetfromthewater,IsawtheSEALinstructorstandingonthedune.Withhisarmsfoldedandapiercingglarethatcutthroughthemorninghaze,Iheardhimyell,“Youknowwhattodo,Mr.Mac!”

IndeedIdid.With feigned enthusiasm, I screamed a hearty “hooyah” at the top of my

lungsandfellfacedownintothesoftsand,rollingfromsidetosidetoensurethatno part ofmy uniformwas left uncovered. Then, for goodmeasure, I sat up,reacheddeepintotheground,andtossedsandintotheairtoguaranteeitfounditswayintoeverycreviceinmybody.

Somewhere during the morning’s physical training I had “committed aviolationoftheSEALtrainingrules.”Mypunishmentwastojumpintothesurfzone,rollaroundinthesand,andmakemyselfa“sugarcookie.”

InallofSEALtrainingtherewasnothingmoreuncomfortablethanbeingasugarcookie.Therewerealotofthingsmorepainfulandmoreexhausting,butbeing a sugar cookie tested your patience and your determination. Not justbecause you spent the rest of the daywith sand down your neck, under yourarms, and between your legs, but because the act of becoming a sugar cookiewas completely indiscriminate.Therewas no rhymeor reason.Youbecame asugarcookieatthewhimoftheinstructor.

TomanyoftheSEALtraineesthiswashardtoaccept.Thosethatstrivedtobe the very best expected that they would be rewarded for their stellarperformance. Sometimes theywere and, then again, sometimes theywere not.Sometimestheonlythingtheygotforalltheireffortwaswetandsandy.

FeelinglikeIwassufficientlycoatedwithsand,Irantotheinstructor,yelled“hooyah” again, and came to attention. Looking me over to see if I met hisstandardofexcellenceinsugarcookieswasLieutenantPhillipL.Martin,knowntohisfriendsasMoki.I,however,wasnotonafirst-namebasiswithLieutenantMartin.

MokiMartinwasthequintessentialfrogman.BornandraisedinHawaii,hewas everything I strived to be as a SEAL officer. An experienced Vietnamveteran,hewasexpertwitheveryweaponintheSEALinventory.HewasoneofthefinestskydiversintheTeams,andbeinganativeHawaiian,hewassoskilled

inthewaterthattherewerefew,ifany,whocouldmatchhim.“Mr.Mac,doyouhaveanyideawhyyouareasugarcookiethismorning?”

Martinsaidinaverycalmbutquestioningmanner.“No,InstructorMartin,”Idutifullyresponded.“Because,Mr.Mac,lifeisn’tfairandthesooneryoulearnthatthebetteroff

youwillbe.”

Ayearlater,LieutenantMartinandIwereonafirst-namebasis.Ihadcompletedbasic SEAL training, and he had been reassigned from the training center toUnderwaterDemolitionTeamEleveninCoronado.

The more I got to know Moki, the deeper my respect grew for him. InadditiontobeingasuperbSEALoperator,Mokiwasalsoaphenomenalathlete.Intheearly1980s,hewasontheleadingedgeofthetriathloncraze.Hehadabeautiful freestyle stroke in theopenocean.Hiscalvesand thighswere strongand moved him effortlessly on the long runs, but his real advantage was thebicycle.Heandthebikeweremadeforeachother.

Everymorninghewouldmountthebikeandgoforathirty-milerideupanddown theCoronadoSilverStrand.Therewas a flat stretchof pavedbikepaththatparalleledthePacificOcean.ItranfromthecityofCoronadotothecityofImperialBeach.Withtheoceanononesideandthebayontheother,itwasoneofthemostbeautifulsectionsofbeachinCalifornia.

EarlyoneSaturdaymorning,MokiwasoutonatrainingridealongtheSilverStrand. Head down, pedaling fast, he never saw the oncoming bicycle. Atroughly twenty-five miles an hour the two bikes collided head-on. The bikescrumpled from the impact, slamming the riders together, leaving both menfacedownontheasphaltpath.Thefirstriderrolledover,dustedhimselfoff,andstruggledtohisfeet.Hewasbangedupbutotherwisefine.

Moki remained facedown, unable to move. The paramedics arrived withinminutes,stabilizedMoki,andtransportedhimtothehospital.Initiallytherewashopethattheparalysiswastemporary,butasthedays,months,andyearspassed,Mokineverregainedtheuseofhislegs.Thecrashlefthimparalyzedfromthewaistdownwithlimitedmovementinhisarms.

For the past thirty-five years,Moki has been in a wheelchair. In all thoseyearsIneveronceheardhimcomplainabouthismisfortuneinlife.NeveroncedidIhearhimask,“Whyme?”Neveroncedidhedisplayanounceofpityforhimself.

Infact,afterhisaccident,Mokiwenton tobeanaccomplishedpainter.Hefatheredabeautifulyounggirl.HefoundedandcontinuestooverseetheSuperFrogTriathlonthatisheldeveryyearinCoronado.

It is easy to blame your lot in life on some outside force, to stop tryingbecauseyoubelievefateisagainstyou.Itiseasytothinkthatwhereyouwereraised, how your parents treated you, or what school you went to is all thatdeterminesyour future.Nothing couldbe further from the truth.The commonpeopleandthegreatmenandwomenarealldefinedbyhowtheydealwithlife’sunfairness:HelenKeller,NelsonMandela,StephenHawking,MalalaYousafzai,and—MokiMartin.

Sometimesnomatterhowhardyoutry,nomatterhowgoodyouare,youstillendupasa sugarcookie.Don’tcomplain.Don’tblame itonyourmisfortune.Standtall,looktothefuture,anddriveon!

CHAPTERFIVE

FailureCanMakeYouStronger

Ifyouwanttochangetheworld…

don’tbeafraidofTheCircus.

ThewavesoffCoronadoIslandwerechoppy,thesmallwhitecapsslappingusinthefaceaswesidestrokedbacktowardthebeach.Asusual,myswimbuddyandIwerestruggling tokeepupwith therestof theSEALtrainingclass.Theinstructors on the safety boat were yelling for us to pick up the pace, but itseemedliketheharderweswamthefartherwefellbehind.

My swim buddy that day was Ensign Marc Thomas. Like me, Marc hadreceivedhiscommissionthroughtheReserveOfficersTrainingCorps(ROTC).Hewas a graduate of theVirginiaMilitary Institute andone of the best long-distancerunnersintheclass.

InSEALtrainingyourswimbuddywasthepersonyoureliedontohaveyourback. It was your swim buddy who you were physically tied to on theunderwaterdives.Itwasyourswimbuddywhoyouwerepartneredwithonthelong swims. Your swim buddy helped you study, kept you motivated, andbecameyour closest ally throughout training.And, as swimbuddies, if oneofyou failed an event, both of you suffered the consequences. It was theinstructors’wayofreinforcingtheimportanceofteamwork.

Aswefinishedtheswimandcrossedontothebeach,aSEALinstructorwaswaitingforus.

“Dropdown!” the instructor yelled.Thiswas the command to fall into thepush-upposition:backstraight,armsfullyextended,andheadup.

“You two call yourselves officers?” Therewas no point in answering.Webothknewhewouldcontinue.

“Officers in theSEALTeamsleadtheway.Theydon’tcomeinlastontheswims.Theydon’tembarrasstheirclass.”

Theinstructormovedaroundus,kickingsandinourfacesashecircled.“I don’t think you gentlemen are going tomake it. I don’t think you have

whatittakestobeSEALofficers.”Pulling a small blacknotebook fromhisbackpocket, he lookedat uswith

disgustandjottedsomethinginthebook.“YoutwojustmadeTheCircuslist.”Heshookhishead.“You’llbeluckyifyousurviveanotherweek.”

TheCircus.ItwasthelastthingeitherMarcorIwanted.TheCircuswasheldevery afternoon at the end of training. The Circus was another two hours ofadditional calisthenics, combined with nonstop harassment by SEAL combatveteranswhowantedonlythestrongtosurvivetraining.Ifyoufailedtomeetthestandardonanyeventthatday—calisthenics,theobstaclecourse,thetimedruns,ortheswims—yournamewasonthelist.Intheeyesoftheinstructors,youwere

afailure.WhatmadeTheCircussofearedbythestudentswasnotjusttheadditional

pain but also the knowledge that the day after The Circus you would beexhaustedfromtheextraworkoutandsofatiguedthatyouwouldfailtomeetthestandardsagain.AnotherCircuswouldfollow,thenanotherandanother.Itwasadeathspiral,acycleoffailurethatcausedmanystudentstoquittraining.

Astherestofthestudentscompletedtheday’sevents,MarcandI,alongwithseveralothers,assembledontheasphaltgrindertobeginanotherlongsessionofcalisthenics.

Becausewehadcome in laston the swim, the instructorshad tailoredTheCircusjustforusthatday.Flutterkicks.Lotsandlotsofflutterkicks.Theflutterkicks were designed to strengthen your abdominals and thighs so you couldpoweryourwaythroughthelongopenoceanswims.Theywerealsodesignedtobreakyou.

The flutter kick exercise called for you to lie on your back, with legsextended directly in front of you, and your hands behind your head. As theinstructorcountedrepetitions,youalternatedmovingyourlegsupanddowninakickingmotion.Atnotimeduringtheexercisewereyouallowedtobendyourknees.Bendingyourkneeswasconsideredweaknessamongfrogmen.

The Circus was punishing. Hundreds of flutter kicks as well as push-ups,pull-ups,sit-ups,andeight-countbodybuilders.BythetimethesunwentdownMarcandIcouldbarelymove.Failurehadaprice.

Thenextdaybroughtmorecalisthenics,anotherrun,anotherobstaclecourse,another swim, andunfortunately anotherCircus.More sit-ups,more push-ups,and a lot more flutter kicks. But as The Circuses continued a funny thinghappened.Ourswimsgotbetter,andMarcandIbegantomoveupinthepack.

TheCircus,which had started as a punishment for failure,wasmaking usstronger, faster, and more confident in the water. While other students quit,unabletohandletheoccasionalfailureandthepainitbrought,MarcandIweredeterminednottoallowTheCircustobeatus.

As trainingwascoming toanend, therewasone finalopenoceanswim,afive-mileroff thecoastofSanClementeIsland.Completingit intheallowabletimewasessentialtograduatingfromSEALtraining.

Thewaterwas bitterly cold aswe jumped off the pier and into the ocean.Fifteen swimpairs entered thewater andbegan the long trek out of the smallbay, around the peninsula, and over the kelp beds.After about twohours, theswim pairswere so spread out you couldn’t tellwhere youwere in the pack.

Fourhours into the swim,numb, exhausted, andon thevergeofhypothermia,MarcThomasandIcrossedthebeach.Therewaitingatthesurf’sedgewastheinstructor.

“Dropdown,”heyelled.MyhandsandfeetweresocoldIcouldn’tfeelthesandbeneathmyfingers

and toes. With my head straining to keep upright, all I could see was theinstructor’sbootsashewalkedaroundMarcandme.

“Onceagainyou twoofficershaveembarrassedyourclass.”Anothersetofboots appeared in my view and then another. Several instructors were nowsurrounding us. “You have made all your teammates look bad.” He paused.“Recover,gentlemen!”

AsMarc and I got to our feet we looked around the beach and suddenlyrealizedwewerethefirstswimpairtofinish.

“You embarrassed themall right.”The instructor smiled. “The secondpairisn’teveninsight.”

MarcandI turnedtolooktowardtheocean,andsureenough,therewasnooneinview.

“Well done, gentlemen. It looks like all that extra pain and suffering paidoff.”Theinstructorpaused,steppedover,andshookourhands.“I’llbehonoredtoservewithyouwhenyougettotheTeams.”

Wehadmadeit.Thelongswimwasthefinaltougheventoftraining.SeveraldayslaterMarcandIgraduated.

Marc went on to have a distinguished career in the SEAL Teams and weremainclosefriendstothisday.

InlifeyouwillfacealotofCircuses.Youwillpayforyourfailures.But,ifyoupersevere, ifyou let thosefailures teachyouandstrengthenyou, thenyouwillbepreparedtohandlelife’stoughestmoments.

July1983wasoneofthosetoughmoments.AsIstoodbeforethecommandingofficer,IthoughtmycareerasaNavySEALwasover.Ihadjustbeenrelievedof my SEAL squadron, fired for trying to change the way my squadron wasorganized, trained, and conducted missions. There were some magnificentofficers and enlisted men in the organization, some of the most professionalwarriorsIhadeverbeenaround.However,muchoftheculturewasstillrootedintheVietnamera,andIthoughtitwastimeforachange.AsIwastofindout,changeisnevereasy,particularlyforthepersonincharge.

Fortunately,eventhoughIwasfired,mycommandingofficerallowedmetotransfer to another SEAL Team, but my reputation as a SEAL officer wasseverelydamaged.Everywhere Iwent, otherofficers and enlistedmenknew Ihadfailed,andeverydaytherewerewhispersandsubtleremindersthatmaybeIwasn’tuptothetaskofbeingaSEAL.

AtthatpointinmycareerIhadtwooptions:quitandmoveontocivilianlife,which seemed like the logical choice in light of my recent Officer FitnessReport,orweather thestormandprovetoothersandmyself thatIwasagoodSEALofficer.Ichosethelatter.

Soonafterbeingfired,Iwasgivenasecondchance,anopportunitytodeployoverseasastheOfficerinChargeofaSEALplatoon.Mostofthetimeonthatoverseas deploymentwewere in remote locations, isolated and on our own. ItookadvantageoftheopportunitytoshowthatIcouldstilllead.WhenyouliveinclosequarterswithtwelveSEALsthereisn’tanywheretohide.Theyknowifyouaregiving100percentonthemorningworkout.Theyseewhenyouarefirstinlinetojumpoutoftheairplaneandlastinlinetogetthechow.Theywatchyoucleanyourweapon,checkyourradio,readtheintelligence,andprepareyourmission briefs. They know when you have worked all night preparing fortomorrow’straining.

As month after month of the overseas deployment wore on, I used mypreviousfailureasmotivationtooutwork,outhustle,andoutperformeveryoneinthe platoon. I sometimes fell short of being the best, but I never fell short ofgivingitmybest.

Intime,Iregainedtherespectofmymen.SeveralyearslaterIwasselectedtocommandaSEALTeamofmyown.EventuallyIwouldgoontocommandalltheSEALsontheWestCoast.

By2003,IfoundmyselfincombatinIraqandAfghanistan.NowthatIwasaone-star admiral leading troops in a war zone, every decision I made had itsconsequences. Over the next several years, I stumbled often. But, for everyfailure, foreverymistake, therewerehundredsof successes:hostages rescued,suicidebombers stopped, pirates captured, terrorists killed, and countless livessaved.

Irealizedthatthepastfailureshadstrengthenedme,taughtmethatnooneisimmune from mistakes. True leaders must learn from their failures, use thelessonstomotivatethemselves,andnotbeafraidtotryagainormakethenexttoughdecision.

You can’t avoidTheCircus.At somepointwe allmake the list.Don’t be

afraidofTheCircus.

CHAPTERSIX

YouMustDareGreatly

Ifyouwanttochangetheworld…

slidedowntheobstacleheadfirst.

Standing at the edgeof the thirty-foot tower, I grabbed the thicknylon rope.Oneendoftheropewasattachedtothetowerandtheotherendanchoredontheground to a pole one hundred feet away. I was halfway through the SEALobstaclecourseandIwasonarecordpace.Swingingmylegsoverthetopofthelineandholdingonfordearlife,Ibegantoinchmywayoff theplatform.Mybodyhungunderneaththerope,andwithacaterpillar-likemotionIslowlymademyway,footbyfoot,totheotherend.

As I reached the end, I releasedmygrip on the line, dropped into the softsand,andran to thenextobstacle.Theotherstudents inmyclasswereyellingencouragement,butIcouldhear theSEALinstructorcallingout theminutes.Ihad lost a lot of time on the Slide for Life.My “possum-style” technique ofnegotiating the long rope was just too slow, but somehow I couldn’t bringmyself toslidedown the ropeheadfirst.Goingheadfirstoff the tower,usingamethod called Commando Style, wasmuch faster but alsomuch riskier. Youwerelessstableonthetopoftheropethanhangingunderneath,andifyoufellandinjuredyourself,youwouldbewashedoutoftheclass.

I crossed the finish linewith a disappointing time.As Iwas doubledover,tryingtocatchmybreath,agrizzledoldVietnamvetwithhighlypolishedbootsand a heavily starchedgreen uniform stoodhunchedoverme. “When are yougoingtolearn,Mr.Mac?”hesaidwithanunmistakabletoneofcontempt.“Thatobstacle course is going to beat you every time unless you start taking somerisks.”

Oneweek later, I pushedmy fears aside,mounted the topof the rope, andthrustmybodyheadfirstdowntheSlideforLife.AsIcrossedthefinishlineinapersonalbest,IcouldseetheoldVietnamSEALnoddinghisapproval.Itwasasimplelessoninovercomingyouranxietiesandtrustingyourabilitiestogetthejobdone.Thelessonwouldservemewellintheyearstocome.

ItwasIraqin2004.Thevoiceontheotherendoftheradiowascalmbuthadanunmistakable sense of urgency.The three hostageswewere searching for hadbeen located.AlQaeda terroristswereholding them inawalledcompoundonthe outskirts of Baghdad. Unfortunately, intelligence indicated that terroristswereabouttomovethemen,andwehadtoactquickly.

TheArmy lieutenant colonel in charge of the rescuemission informedmethat they would have to conduct a dangerous daylight raid. To make matters

worse,theonlywaytobesuccessfulwastolandthreeBlackHawkhelicopters,carrying the assault force, into themiddle of the small compound.We talkedthrough other tactical options, but it was clear the colonel was right. It wasalways preferable to conduct a rescue mission at night, when the element ofsurprisewasonyourside,but thiswasafleetingopportunity,andifwedidn’tactnowthehostageswouldbemovedandpossiblykilled.

IapprovedthemissionandwithinminutestherescueforcehadboardedthethreeBlackHawkhelicoptersandwasonitswaytothecompound.HighabovetheBlackHawks, another helicopterwas providingvideo surveillance back tomyheadquarters. Iwatched in silenceas the threehelicopters skimmedacrossthedesert,justafewfeetabovethegroundtohidetheirapproach.

Inside the open courtyard, I could see one man, armed with an automaticweapon,moving inandoutof thebuilding, seeminglypreparing to leave.TheheloswerefiveminutesoutandallIcoulddofrommyheadquarterswaslistentotheinternalcommunicationsastherescueforcemadefinalpreparations.

ThiswasnotthefirsthostagerescueIhadoverseen,norwoulditbethelast,butitwasclearlythemostdaring,inlightoftheneedtogainsurprisebylandinginsidethecompound.WhilethepilotsfromtheArmyaviationunitwerethebestin theworld, thiswas still a high-riskmission. Three helicopters,with bladesextendingbeyondsixtyfeet,weregoing to land inaspacewithonly inches tospare.Adding to the level of difficultywas an eight-foot-high brickwall thatsurroundedthecompound,forcingthepilotstodramaticallyaltertheirapproachangle. It was going to be a hard landing, and over the radio I could hear therescueforcepreparingforimpact.

Fromtheoverheadsurveillance, Icouldsee thehelicopters’ finalapproach.Thefirstaircraftflewflatandlevelandthenasitcrossedoverthewalltheheloflared upward, settling into the tiny courtyard. Immediately the rescue forceexited theBlackHawk and began surging into the building.The second helo,rightonthetailofthefirst,landedwithinafewfeetofhiscompanion.Dirtfromthedownwashof thehelicopterscausedacloudofdust toencircle the landingarea. As the third helo approached the compound, a giant plume of dusttemporarilyblinded thepilot.The frontof the thirdhelo inchedover thewall,but the rear wheel clipped the eight-foot-high barricade, throwing brickseverywhere.Withnoroomtospare,thepilotforcedthehelotothegroundwithathud,buteveryoneinsidewasunharmed.

Minutes later, I receivedword thatall thehostagesweresafe.Within thirtyminutestherescueforceandthefreedmenwereontheirwaybacktosafety.The

gamblehadpaidoff.OverthecourseofthenextdecadeIwouldcometorealizethatassumingrisk

was typicalofour special operations forces.Theyalwayspushed the limitsofthemselves and theirmachines inorder tobe successful. Inmanyways this iswhat set them apart from everyone else. However, contrary towhat outsiderssaw,theriskwasusuallycalculated,thoughtful,andwellplanned.Evenifitwasspontaneous,theoperatorsknewtheirlimitsbutbelievedinthemselvesenoughtotry.

Throughoutmycareer,IalwayshadgreatrespectfortheBritishSpecialAirService, the famed SAS. The SASmottowas “WhoDaresWins.” Themottowas so widely admired that even moments before the bin Laden raid, myCommandSergeantMajor,ChrisFaris,quotedittotheSEALspreparingforthemission.Tome themottowasmore than abouthow theBritish special forcesoperatedasaunit;itwasabouthoweachofusshouldapproachourlives.

Lifeisastruggleandthepotentialforfailureiseverpresent,butthosewholive in fear of failure, or hardship, or embarrassment will never achieve theirpotential.Without pushing your limits, without occasionally sliding down theropeheadfirst,withoutdaringgreatly,youwillneverknowwhatistrulypossibleinyourlife.

CHAPTERSEVEN

StandUptotheBullies

Ifyouwanttochangetheworld…

don’tbackdownfromthesharks.

ThewateroffSanClementeIslandwaschoppyandcoldaswebeganourfour-mile night swim. EnsignMarc Thomas wasmatchingmy sidestrokes one forone.Withnothingbutaloose-fittingwetsuittop,amask,andapairoffins,weswam hard against the current that was pushing southward around the smallpeninsula.Thelightsofthenavalbasefromwhichwehadstartedbegantofadeaswemadeourwayout intotheopenocean.Withinanhourwewereaboutamile off the beach and seemingly all alone in thewater.Whatever swimmerswerearounduswerecloakedindarkness.

I could seeMarc’s eyes through theglass inhis facemask.His expressionmusthavemirroredmine.WebothknewthatthewatersoffSanClementewerefilledwithsharks.Notjustanysharks,butgreatwhitesharks,thelargest,mostaggressiveman-eaterintheocean.Priortoourswim,theSEALinstructorshadgiven us a briefing on all the potential threatswemight encounter that night.Therewere leopard sharks,mako sharks, hammerhead sharks, thresher sharks,buttheonewefearedthemostwasthegreatwhite.

Therewas something a little unnerving about being alone, at night, in themiddleoftheocean,knowingthatlurkingbeneaththesurfacewasaprehistoriccreaturejustwaitingtobiteyouinhalf.

ButwebothwantedtobeSEALssobadlythatnothinginthewaterthatnightwas going to stop us. If we had to fight off the sharks, then we were bothpreparedtodoso.Ourgoal,whichwebelievedtobehonorableandnoble,gaveuscourage,andcourageisaremarkablequality.Nothingandnobodycanstandinyourway.Withoutit,otherswilldefineyourpathforward.Withoutit,youareatthemercyoflife’stemptations.Withoutcourage,menwillberuledbytyrantsand despots.Without courage, no great society can flourish.Without courage,thebulliesof theworldriseup.Withit,youcanaccomplishanygoal.Withit,youcandefyanddefeatevil.

SaddamHussein, the now former president of Iraq, sat on the edge of an oldArmycotcladonlyinanorangejumpsuit.HavingbeencapturedbyU.S.forcestwenty-fourhoursearlier,hewasnowaprisoneroftheUnitedStates.

As I opened the door to allow the new Iraqi government leaders into theroom,Saddamremainedseated.Asmirkcrossedhisface,andtherewasnosignof remorse or submission in his attitude. Immediately, the four Iraqi leadersbegan to yell at Saddam, but from a safe distance.With a look of contempt,

Saddamgavethemadeadlysmileandmotionedthemtositdown.Stillfearfuloftheformerdictator, theyeachgrabbedafoldingchairandtooktheirseats.Thescreaming and finger-pointing continued but slowly subsided as the formerdictatorbegantotalk.

Under SaddamHussein, the Baath Partywas responsible for the deaths ofthousandsofShiaIraqisandtensofthousandsofKurds.Saddamhadpersonallyexecutedanumberofhisowngeneralswhomhefeltweredisloyal.

AlthoughIwaspositiveSaddamwouldnolongerbeathreattotheothermenin the room, the Iraqi leaderswere not so certain. The fear in their eyeswasunmistakable.Thisman,theButcherofBaghdad,hadfordecadesterrorizedanentire nation.His cult of personality had drawn to him followers of theworstsort.Hismurderous thugshadbrutalized the innocent and forced thousands tofleethecountry.NooneinIraqhadmusteredthecouragetochallengethetyrant.Therewas no doubt inmymind that these new leaderswere still terrified ofwhatSaddammightbeabletodo—evenfrombehindbars.

IfthepurposeofthemeetingwastoshowSaddamthathewasnolongerinpower—it had failed. In those brief moments, Saddam had managed tointimidate and frighten the new regime leadership.He seemedmore confidentthanever.

AstheIraqileadersleft,Iinstructedmyguardstoisolatetheformerpresidentina small room.Therewouldbenovisitors, and theguards in the roomwereorderednottotalkwithSaddam.

Over the next month, I visited the small room every day. And every daySaddamrosetogreetme,andeverydaywithoutspeaking,Imotionedhimbackto his cot. Themessagewas clear.Hewas no longer important.He could nolonger intimidate those around him. He could no longer instill fear into hissubjects. Gone was the gleaming palace. Gone were the handmaidens, theservants, and the generals. Gone was the power. The arrogance andoppressivenessthathaddefinedhisrulehadended.CourageousyoungAmericansoldiers had stood up to his tyranny, and now he was no longer a threat toanyone.

Thirty days later, I transferred SaddamHussein to a propermilitary policeunit,andayearlatertheIraqishangedhimforhiscrimesagainstthenation.

Bullies are all the same; whether they are in the school yard, in theworkplace, or ruling a country through terror. They thrive on fear andintimidation. Bullies gain their strength through the timid and faint of heart.Theyarelikesharksthatsensefearinthewater.Theywillcircletoseeiftheir

prey is struggling.Theywill probe to see if theirvictim isweak. Ifyoudon’tfind thecourage tostandyourground, theywillstrike. In life, toachieveyourgoals,tocompletethenightswim,youwillhavetobemenandwomenofgreatcourage. That courage is within all of us. Dig deep, and you will find it inabundance.

CHAPTEREIGHT

RisetotheOccasion

Ifyouwanttochangetheworld…

beyourverybestinthedarkestmoments.

I stood on the small sandy spit of land, looking across the bay at the line ofwarshipsthatweremooredat32ndStreetNavalBase.InbetweentheshipsandourstartingpointwasasmallvesselanchoredinSanDiegoBaythatwouldbethis evening’s “target.” Our training class had spent the last several monthslearningtodivethebasicSCUBAandthemoreadvanced,bubbleless,Emersonclosed-circuitdiving rig.Tonightwas theculminationofDivePhase, themosttechnicallydifficultpartofbasicSEALtraining.

Our objective was to swim the two thousand meters underwater from thestartingpointacross thebay to theanchoredvessel.Onceunderneath theship,wewere toplaceourpractice limpetmineon thekeeland then,withoutbeingdetected, return to the beach. The Emerson diving apparatus was morbidlyreferred to as the “death rig.” It was known tomalfunction occasionally, andaccordingtoSEALfolkloreanumberoftraineeshaddiedovertheyearsusingtheEmerson.

At night the visibility in SanDiegoBaywas so bad that you couldn’t seeyourhandinfrontofyourface.Allyouhadwasasmallgreenchemicallighttoilluminateyourunderwatercompass.Tomakemattersworsethefogwasrollingin.Thehazehunglowoverthebay,makingitdifficulttotakeaninitialcompassbearing on our target. If youmissed the target youwould find yourself in theshippingchannel,neveragoodplacetobewhenaNavydestroyerwaspullingintoport.

TheSEALinstructorspacedbackandforthinfrontofthetwenty-fivepairsofdiverspreparingforthenight’sdive.Theinstructorsseemedasnervousaswewere.Theyknewthatthistrainingeventhadthehighestpotentialforsomeonetogethurtordie.

Thechiefpettyofficerinchargeoftheeventsummonedallthediversintoasmall circle. “Gentlemen,”he said. “Tonightwe findoutwhichof you sailorsreallywanttobefrogmen.”Hepausedforeffect.“It’scoldanddarkoutthere.Itwillbedarkerundertheship.Sodarkthatyoucangetdisoriented.Sodarkthatifyougetseparatedfromyourswimbuddy,hewillnotbeabletofindyou.”Thefogwasnowclosinginaroundusandthemistencircledeventhespitoflandonwhichwe stood. “Tonight, youwill have to be your very best.Youmust riseaboveyourfears,yourdoubts,andyourfatigue.Nomatterhowdarkitgets,youmust complete the mission. This is what separates you from everyone else.Somehowthosewordsstayedwithmeforthenextthirtyyears.

As Iwatched the fog encircle the airfield atBagramAirBase inAfghanistan,anotherdarkmomentwasunfoldinginfrontofme.AmassiveC-17aircraftwasparkedonthetarmac,itsramplowered,standingbytoreceivetheremainsofafallenwarrior.

This was a Ramp Ceremony. It was one of the most solemn and yetunquestionably inspiring aspects of the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. It wasAmericaatitsfinest.Everyman,everywoman,regardlessoftheirbackground,regardlessofhowheroictheirfinalmoments,wastreatedwithincredibledignityandhonor.Itwasournation’swayofrecognizingtheirsacrifice.Itwasourlastsalute,ourfinalthanks,andaprayertosendthemontheirwayhome.

Extendingoutfromtherampweretwoparallellinesofsoldiers.Standingatparaderest,theyformedthehonorguard.Offtotherightoftheairplanewasasmallthree-piecebandsoftlyplaying“AmazingGrace.”

Afewothers,myselfincluded,weregatheredtotheleft,andallalonghangarrowstoodhundredsofothersoldiers,sailors,airmen,Marines,civilians,andourallies.Theyhadallcometopaytheirlastrespects.

TheHUMVEEtacticalvehiclecarryingtheremainsarrivedrightontime.Sixmenfromthefallenheroesunitactedaspallbearers.Off-loadingtheflag-drapedcasket,theyslowlymarchedthroughthehonorguard,uptheramp,andontotheplane.

They positioned the casket in themiddle of the cargo bay, turned smartly,came toattention,andsaluted.At theheadof thecasket, thepastorbowedhisheadandreadfromIsaiah6:8.

“AndIheardthevoiceoftheLordsaying,WhomshallIsendandwhowillgoforus?AndIsaid,HereIam.Sendme!”

As “Taps”wasplayed, tears rolleddown the soldiers’ faces.Therewasnoattempttohidetheirpain.

Asthepallbearersdeparted,thoselinedupoutsidecamethroughonebyone,saluting,andkneelingbythecasketforonelastthought.

The C-17 would depart later that morning, refueling along the way andarriving atDoverAir ForceBase. There, another honor guard, alongwith thefamilyofthefallensoldier,wouldmeetthecasketandescortithome.

There isnodarkermoment in life than losingsomeoneyou love,andyet Iwatchedtimeandagainasfamilies,asmilitaryunits,astowns,ascities,andasanation,howwecametogethertobeourbestduringthosetragictimes.

WhenaseasonedArmyspecialoperatorwaskilledinIraq,histwinbrotherstood tall, comforting the soldier’s friends, holding the family together, and

ensuringthathislostbrotherwouldbeproudofhisstrengthinthistimeofneed.WhenafallenRangerwasreturnedhometohisbaseinSavannah,Georgia,

hisentireunit,dressedintheirfinestuniforms,marchedfromthechurchtotheRanger’sfavoritebaronRiverStreet.Allalongtheroute,thetownofSavannahturnedout.Firefighters,policeofficers,veterans,civiliansfromallwalksoflife,weretheretosalutetheyoungsoldierwhohaddiedheroicallyinAfghanistan.

WhenaCV-22aircraftcrashed inAfghanistan,killing thepilotandseveralcrewmen,theairmenfromthesameunitcametogether,paidtheirrespects,andflew the next day—knowing that their fallen brotherswouldwant them in theair,continuingthemission.

Whenahelicoptercrash took the livesof twenty-five specialoperatorsandsixNationalGuardsoldiers, theentirenationmournedbutalso took incredibleprideinthecourage,patriotism,andvalorofthefallenwarriors.

Atsomepointwewillallconfrontadarkmomentinlife.Ifnotthepassingofa loved one, then something else that crushes your spirit and leaves youwondering about your future. In that darkmoment, reach deep inside yourselfandbeyourverybest.

CHAPTERNINE

GivePeopleHope

Ifyouwanttochangetheworld…

startsingingwhenyou’reuptoyourneckinmud.

The night wind coming off the ocean was gusting to twenty miles an hour.Therewasnomoonout,andaneveninglayeroflowcloudsobscuredthestars.Iwassittinginchest-deepmud,coveredfromheadtotoewithalayerofgrime.My vision blurred by the caked-on clay, I could see only the outline of myfellowstudentslinedupinthepitbesideme.

ItwasWednesdayofHellWeek,andmySEALtrainingclasswasdownatthe infamousTijuanamudflats.HellWeekwas the seminal event for theFirstPhaseofSEALtraining.Itwassixdaysofnosleepandunrelentingharassmentby the instructors.Therewere long runs, open ocean swims, obstacle courses,rope climbs, endless sessions of calisthenics, and constant paddling of theinflatable boat small (IBS). The purpose of Hell Week was to eliminate theweak,thosenottoughenoughtobeSEALs.

Statisticallyspeaking,morestudentsquitduringHellWeekthanatanyothertime in training,and themudflatswere the toughestpartof theweek.LocatedbetweenSouthSanDiegoandMexico,themudflatswerealow-lyingareawheredrainagefromSanDiegocreatedalargeswathofdeep,thickmudthathadtheconsistencyofwetclay.

Earlierthatafternoon,ourclasshadpaddledourrubberboatsfromCoronadodown to themudflats. Soon after arrivingwewere ordered into themud andbegan a series of races and individual competitions designed to keep us cold,wet,andmiserable.Themudclungtoeverypartofyourbody.Itwassodensethatmovingthroughitexhaustedyouandtestedyourwilltocarryon.

Forhours the racescontinued.By theevening,wecouldbarelymovefromthe bone-chilling coldness and the fatigue. As the sun went down thetemperature dropped, thewind picked up, and everything seemed to get evenharder.

Moralewasdecliningrapidly.ItwasonlyWednesday,andweallknewthatanother threedaysof pain and exhaustion lay ahead.Thiswas themoment oftruth for a lot of the students. Shaking uncontrollably, with hands and feetswollen fromnonstopuseandskinso tender thateven theslightestmovementbroughtdiscomfort,ourhopeforcompletingthetrainingwasfadingfast.

Silhouetted against the distant lights of the city, a SEAL instructorwalkedpurposefullytotheedgeofthemudflats.Soundinglikeanoldfriend,hesoftlytalked into a bullhorn and offered comfort to the suffering trainees.We couldjoin him and the other instructors by the fire, he said.He had hot coffee andchicken soup.Wecould relaxuntil the sun cameup.Get off our feet.Take it

easy.Icouldsensethatsomeofthestudentswerereadytoaccepthisoffer.After

all,howmuchlongercouldwesurviveinthemud?Awarmfire,hotcoffee,andchickensoupsuresoundedgood.Butthencamethecatch.Allheneededwasforfive of us to quit. Just five quitters and the rest of the class could have somerelieffromthepain.

The student besideme started tomove toward the instructor. I grabbedhisarmandheldhimtight,but theurgeto leavethemudwastoogreat.Hebrokefreeofmygraspandbegan to lunge fordryground. Icouldsee the instructorsmiling.Heknewthatonceonemanquit,otherswouldfollow.

Suddenly,abovethehowlofthewindcameavoice.Singing.Itwastiredandraspy,butloudenoughtobeheardbyall.Thelyricswerenotmeantfortenderears,buteveryoneknewthetune.Onevoicebecametwoandtwobecamethreeandthenbeforelongeveryonewassinging.

Thestudentrushingforthedrygroundturnedaroundandcamebackbesideme. Looping his arm around mine, he began to sing as well. The instructorgrabbed thebullhornandshoutedfor theclass toquitsinging.Noonedid.Heyelled at the class leader toget controlof the trainees.The singingcontinued.Witheachthreatfromtheinstructor,thevoicesgotlouder,theclassgotstronger,andthewilltocontinueoninthefaceofadversitybecameunbreakable.Inthedarkness,with the fire reflectingon the faceof the instructor, I could seehimsmile.Onceagain,wehadlearnedanimportantlesson:thepowerofonepersontounitethegroup,thepowerofonepersontoinspirethosearoundhim,togivethemhope.Ifthatonepersoncouldsingwhileneckdeepinmud,thensocouldwe.Ifthatonepersoncouldendurethefreezingcold,thensocouldwe.Ifthatonepersoncouldholdon,thensocouldwe.

The large room at Dover Air Force Base was filled with grieving families—inconsolable children sobbing in their mothers’ arms, parents holding handshoping to gain strength from each other, and wives with a far-off look ofdisbelief. Just five days earlier, a helicopter carrying Navy SEALs and theirAfghanSpecialOperationspartners,andflownbyArmyaviatorshadbeenshotdowninAfghanistan.Allthirty-eightmenonboardwerekilled.ItwasthesinglegreatestlossintheWaronTerror.

Inlessthananhour,alargeC-17transportaircraftwasscheduledtolandatDover,andthefamiliesofthefallenheroeswouldbeescortedtotheflightline

tomeettheflag-drapedcoffins.Butasthefamilieswaited,thePresidentoftheUnited States, the Secretary of Defense, the service secretaries, and seniormilitary leaders filed into the waiting room to pay their respects and givecomfortwheretheycould.

Ihadattendeddozensofservicesforfallensoldiers.Itwasnevereasy,andIoftenwonderedwhethermywordsofsolacemadeanydifferencetothosewholost loved ones or whether the shock of their loss made everything I saidincomprehensible.

Asmywife,Georgeann,andIbegantotalkwiththefamiliesIstruggledwiththerightwords.HowcouldItrulyempathizewiththeirpain?HowcouldItellthemthatthesacrificeoftheirson,theirhusband,theirfather,theirbrother,theirfriend,wasworthit?Ididmybesttoconsoleeachone.Ihuggedthem.Iprayedwiththem.Itriedtoremainstrongforthem,butsomehowIknewmywordsfellshort.

Then,asIkneltdownbesideanelderlywoman,InoticedthefamilynexttometalkingwithMarineLieutenantGeneralJohnKelly.ThemilitaryassistanttotheSecretaryofDefense,Kellywastall,lean,withclose-croppedgrayhairanddressedinanimmaculateMarineuniform.Thefamilywasgatheredaroundhim,andIcouldsensethathiswordsofsympathyandencouragementinthefaceofthistragedywerehavingaprofoundeffectonthegrief-strickenparentsandtheirchildren. He smiled and they smiled. He hugged and they hugged back. Hereachedouthishandandtheygraspedittightly.

Afterembracing theparentsone last timeand thanking the family for theirsacrifice,Kellymovedontothenextgroupofheartbrokensurvivors.Duringthenexthour,JohnKellytouchedalmosteveryfamilyintheroom.Morethananyother visitor that day Kelly’s words resonated with every parent, every wife,every brother and sister, and every friend. His words were words ofunderstanding.Hiswerewordsofcompassion,andaboveall,hiswerewordsofhope.

Only John Kelly could havemade a difference that day. Only John Kellycouldhavegiventhemhope,becauseonlyJohnKellyknewwhatitwasliketoloseasonincombat.

Marine First Lieutenant Robert Kelly was killed in Afghanistan in 2010while serving with the Third Battalion, FifthMarines. General Kelly and hisfamilyhadstruggledwith the tragedy, just like the familiesatDover thatday.But the Kelly family had survived. They had endured through the pain, theheartache,andtheinconsolablesenseofloss.

AsIwatchedhimthatdayhealsogavemestrength.Thetruthis,whenyoulose a soldier yougrieve for the families, but you also fear that the same fatemaysomedaybefallyou.Youwonderwhetheryoucouldsurvive the lossofachild.Or youwonder how your familywould get alongwithout you by theirside.Youhopeandpray thatGodwillbemerciful andnothaveyou shoulderthisunthinkableburden.

Over the course of the next three years, John Kelly and I became closefriends.Hewasaremarkableofficer,astronghusbandtohiswife,Karen,andaloving father to his daughter,Kate, and oldest son,MarineMajor JohnKelly.Butmore than that,withouteverknowing it, JohnKellygaveall thosearoundhimhope.Hopethatintheveryworstoftimeswecouldriseabovethepain,thedisappointment, and the agony andbe strong.Thatwe eachhadwithin us theabilitytocarryonandnotonlytosurvivebutalsotoinspireothers.

Hopeisthemostpowerfulforceintheuniverse.Withhopeyoucaninspirenations togreatness.Withhopeyou can raiseup thedowntrodden.Withhopeyoucaneasethepainofunbearableloss.Sometimesallittakesisonepersontomakeadifference.

Wewillallfindourselvesneckdeepinmudsomeday.Thatisthetimetosingloudly, to smile broadly, to lift up those around you and give them hope thattomorrowwillbeabetterday.

CHAPTERTEN

Never,EverQuit!

Ifyouwanttochangetheworld…

don’tever,everringthebell.

Istoodatattentionalongwiththeother150studentsbeginningthefirstdayofSEALtraining.Theinstructor,dressedincombatboots,khakishorts,andablueand gold tee shirt, walked across the large asphalt courtyard to a brass bellhanginginfullviewofallthetrainees.

“Gentlemen,” he began. “Today is the first day of SEAL training. For thenextsixmonthsyouwillundergothetoughestcourseofinstructionintheUnitedStatesmilitary.”

Iglancedaroundandcouldseesomelooksofapprehensiononthefacesofmyfellowstudents.

The instructor continued. “You will be tested like no time in your life.”Pausing, he looked around the class of new“tadpoles.” “Most of youwill notmakeitthrough.Iwillseetothat.”Hesmiled.“Iwilldoeverythinginmypowerto make you quit!” He emphasized the last three words. “I will harass youunmercifully.Iwillembarrassyouinfrontofyour teammates.Iwillpushyoubeyondyourlimits.”Thenaslightgrincrossedhisface.“Andtherewillbepain.Lotsandlotsofpain.”

Grabbingthebell,hepulledtheropehardandaloudclangingnoiseechoedacross the courtyard. “But if you don’t like the pain, if you don’t like all theharassment,thenthereisaneasywayout.”Hepulledtheropeagainandanotherwaveofdeepmetallicsoundreverberatedoffthebuildings.“Allyouhavetodotoquitisringthisbellthreetimes.”

Heletgooftheropetiedtothebell’sclapper.“Ringthebellandyouwon’thavetogetupearly.Ringthebellandyouwon’thavetodothelongruns,thecold swims, or the obstacle course. Ring the bell and you can avoid all thispain.”

Thentheinstructorglanceddownattheasphaltandseemedtobreakfromhispreparedmonologue.“Butletmetellyousomething,”hesaid.“Ifyouquit,youwillregretitfortherestofyourlife.Quittingnevermakesanythingeasier.”

Sixmonths later, therewere only thirty-three of us standing at graduation.Somehadtakentheeasywayout.Theyhadquit,andmyguessistheinstructorwasright,theywouldregretitfortherestoftheirlives.

Of all the lessons I learned inSEAL training, thiswas themost important.Neverquit.Itdoesn’tsoundparticularlyprofound,butlifeconstantlyputsyouinsituationswherequitting seems somuch easier than continuingon.Where theoddsaresostackedagainstyouthatgivingupseemstherationalthingtodo.

Throughoutmy career, I was constantly inspired bymen andwomenwho

refusedtoquit,whorefusedtofeelsorryforthemselves,butnonemoresothanayoungArmyRangerImetinahospitalinAfghanistan.

It was late one evening when I received word that one of my soldiers hadstepped on a pressure plate mine and had beenMEDEVACed to the combathospitalnearmyheadquarters.TheRangerregimentalcommander,ColonelErikKurilla,andIquicklymadeourwaytothehospitalandintothesoldier’sroom.

Thesoldierlayinthehospitalbed,tubesextendingfromhismouthandchest;blastburns streakeduphis armsandacrosshis face.Theblanket coveringhisbodylayflattothebedwherehislegswouldnormallyhavebeen.Hislifewasnowchangedforever.

I had made countless visits to the combat hospital in Afghanistan. As awartimeleaderyoutrynottointernalizethehumansuffering.Youknowthatitis part of combat. Soldiers get wounded. Soldiers die. If you allow everydecisionyoumaketobepredicatedonthepossiblelossoflifeyouwillstrugglemightilytobeeffective.

Somehow though this night seemeddifferent.TheRanger lying in front ofmewassoveryyoung:younger thanmytwoboys.HewasnineteenyearsoldandhisnamewasAdamBates.HehadarrivedinAfghanistanjustaweekearlierandthishadbeenhisfirstcombatmission.Ileanedoverandtouchedmyhandtohis shoulder. He appeared to be sedated and unconscious. I reflected for aminute,saidalittleprayer,andwasstartingtoleavewhenthenursecameintocheckonmysoldier.

She smiled, looked at his vitals, and asked me if I had any questionsregardinghisstatus.Sheinformedmethatbothofhislegshadbeenamputatedandthathehadseriousblastinjuries,butthathischanceforsurvivalwasgood.

IthankedherfortakingsuchgreatcareofRangerBatesandtoldherIwouldreturnwhenhewasconscious.“Oh,he’sconscious,”shestated.“Infactitwouldbe good for you to talkwith him.” She gently shook the youngRanger, whoopenedhiseyesslightlyandacknowledgedmypresence.

“Hecan’tspeakrightnow,”thenursesaid.“Buthismotherwasdeafandheknowshowtosign.”Thenursehandedmeasheetofpaperwiththevarioussignlanguagesymbolsdisplayedonit.

Italkedforaminute,tryingtofindthestrengthtosaytherightthing.Whatdoyoutellayoungmanwhohaslostbothhislegsservinghiscountry?Howdoyoumakehimfeelbetterabouthisfuture?

Bates, his face swollen from the blast, his eyes barely visible through therednessand thebandages, staredatmemomentarily.Hemusthavesensed thepityinmyexpression.

Raisinghishand,hebegantosign.Ilookedateachsymbolonthesheetofpaperbeforeme.Slowly,painfully,

hesigned,“I—will—be—OK.”Andthenhefellbackasleep.AsIleftthehospitalthateveningIcouldnothelpbutcry.Ofthehundredsof

menItalkedwithinthehospital,neveroncedidanyonecomplain.Neveronce!Theywereproudoftheirservice.Theywereacceptingoftheirfate,andalltheywantedwastogetbacktotheirunit,tobewiththementhattheyhadleftbehind.SomehowAdamBatespersonifiedallthosemenwhohadcomebeforehim.

A year after my hospital visit in Afghanistan, I was at the Seventy-fifthRangerRegimentalChangeofCommand.ThereinthestandswasRangerBates,lookingsharpinhisdressuniformandstandingtallonhisnewprostheticlegs.Ioverheard him challenge a number of his fellowRangers to a pull-up contest.With all he had been through—the multiple surgeries, the painful rehab, andadjusting toanew life—heneverquit.Hewas laughing, joking, smiling—andjustashepromisedme—hewasokay!

Lifeisfullofdifficulttimes.Butsomeoneouttherealwayshasitworsethanyou do. If you fill your dayswith pity, sorrowful for theway you have beentreated,bemoaningyourlotinlife,blamingyourcircumstancesonsomeoneorsomethingelse,thenlifewillbelongandhard.If,ontheotherhand,yourefusetogiveuponyourdreams,standtallandstrongagainsttheodds—thenlifewillbewhatyoumakeofit—andyoucanmakeitgreat.Never,ever,ringthebell!

Remember…start eachdaywith a task completed.Find someone tohelpyouthroughlife.Respecteveryone.Knowthat life isnotfairandthatyouwill failoften.Butifyoutakesomerisks,stepupwhentimesaretoughest,facedownthebullies,liftupthedowntrodden,andnever,evergiveup—ifyoudothesethings,thenyoucanchangeyourlifeforthebetter…andmaybetheworld!

THEUNIVERSITYOFTEXASCOMMENCEMENTSPEECH

May17,2014

The University’s slogan is “What starts here changes the world.” I have toadmit,Ikindoflikeit.“Whatstartsherechangestheworld!”

Tonight there are almost eight thousand students graduating from theUniversityofTexas.Thatgreatparagonofanalytical rigor,Ask.com,says thattheaverageAmericanwillmeet ten thousandpeople in their lifetime.That’salotof folks.But, if everyoneofyouchanged the livesof just tenpeople, andeachoneofthosefolkschangedthelivesofanothertenpeople—justten—theninfivegenerations—125years—theclassof2014willhavechangedthelivesof800millionpeople.

Eighthundredmillionpeople.Thinkof it:over twice thepopulationof theUnitedStates.Goonemoregenerationandyoucanchangetheentirepopulationoftheworld,eightbillionpeople.Ifyouthinkit’shardtochangethelivesoftenpeople,changetheirlivesforever,you’rewrong.

I saw it happen every day in Iraq andAfghanistan.A youngArmyofficermakesadecisiontogoleftinsteadofrightdownaroadinBaghdadandthetensoldiersinhissquadaresavedfromaclose-inambush.

In Kandahar province, Afghanistan, a noncommissioned officer from theFemaleEngagementTeamsensessomethingisn’trightanddirects theinfantryplatoon away from a five-hundred-pound IED, saving the lives of a dozensoldiers.

But,ifyouthinkaboutit,notonlywerethesesoldierssavedbythedecisionsof one person, but their children yet unborn were also saved. And theirchildren’schildrenweresaved.Generationsweresavedbyonedecision,byoneperson.

Butchangingtheworldcanhappenanywhere,andanyonecandoit.So,whatstartsherecanindeedchangetheworld,butthequestionis:Whatwilltheworldlooklikeafteryouchangeit?

Well, I am confident that it will look much, much better, but if you willhumorthisoldsailorforjustamoment,Ihaveafewsuggestionsthatmayhelpyouonyourwaytoabetterworld.Andwhiletheselessonswerelearnedduringmy time in themilitary, I can assureyou that itmatters notwhether you everservedadayinuniform.

It matters not your gender, your ethnic or religious background, yourorientation,oryoursocialstatus.Ourstrugglesinthisworldaresimilarandthelessons toovercomethosestrugglesand tomoveforward—changingourselvesandtheworldaroundus—willapplyequallytoall.

IhavebeenaNavySEALforthirty-sixyears.ButitallbeganwhenIleftUTfor basic SEAL training in Coronado, California. Basic SEAL training is sixmonthsoflongtorturousrunsinthesoftsand,midnightswimsinthecoldwateroffSanDiego,obstaclecourses,unendingcalisthenics,dayswithoutsleep,andalwaysbeingcold,wet,andmiserable.

It is six months of being constantly harassed by professionally trainedwarriorswhoseektofindtheweakofmindandbodyandeliminatethemfromeverbecomingaNavySEAL.Butthetrainingalsoseekstofindthosestudentswhocanleadinanenvironmentofconstantstress,chaos,failure,andhardships.To me, basic SEAL training was a lifetime of challenges crammed into sixmonths.

So,herearethetenlessonsIlearnedfrombasicSEALtrainingthathopefullywillbeofvaluetoyouasyoumoveforwardinlife.

EverymorninginbasicSEALtraining,myinstructors,whoatthetimewereallVietnamveterans,wouldshowupinmybarracksroom,andthefirstthingtheywouldinspectwasyourbed.Ifyoudiditright,thecornerswouldbesquare,thecoverspulled tight, thepillowcentered justunder theheadboard,andtheextrablanketfoldedneatlyatthefootoftherack.

Itwasasimpletask,mundaneatbest.Buteverymorningwewererequiredtomakeourbedtoperfection.Itseemedalittleridiculousatthetime,particularlyin light of the fact that we were aspiring to be real warriors, tough battle-hardenedSEALs,butthewisdomofthissimpleacthasbeenproventomemanytimesover.

If youmakeyourbedeverymorning,youwill have accomplished the firsttaskoftheday.Itwillgiveyouasmallsenseofprideanditwillencourageyoutodoanothertaskandanotherandanother.Bytheendoftheday,thatonetaskcompletedwill have turned intomany tasks completed.Making your bedwillalsoreinforcethefactthatlittlethingsinlifematter.

Ifyoucan’tdothelittlethingsright,youwillneverdothebigthingsright.And,ifbychanceyouhaveamiserableday,youwillcomehometoabedthatismade—thatyoumade—andamadebedgivesyouencouragementthattomorrowwillbebetter.Ifyouwanttochangetheworld,startoffbymakingyourbed.

DuringSEALtrainingthestudentsarebrokendownintoboatcrews.Eachcrewissevenstudents:threeoneachsideofasmallrubberboatandonecoxswaintohelpguidethedinghy.Everydayyourboatcrewformsuponthebeachandisinstructedtogetthroughthesurfzoneandpaddleseveralmilesdownthecoast.

Inthewinter,thesurfoffSanDiegocangettobeeighttotenfeethighanditisexceedinglydifficulttopaddlethroughtheplungingsurfunlesseveryonedigsin. Every paddle must be synchronized to the stroke count of the coxswain.Everyonemustexertequaleffortor theboatwill turnagainst thewaveandbeunceremoniously tossed back on the beach. For the boat to make it to itsdestination,everyonemustpaddle.

Youcan’t change theworldalone—youwillneed somehelp—and to trulyget from your starting point to your destination takes friends, colleagues, thegoodwillofstrangers,andastrongcoxswaintoguidethem.Ifyouwanttochangetheworld,findsomeonetohelpyoupaddle.

Overafewweeksofdifficulttraining,mySEALclass,whichstartedwith150men,wasdowntojust42.Therewerenow6boatcrewsof7meneach.Iwasintheboatwith the tallguys,but thebestboatcrewwehadwasmadeupof thelittleguys—“themunchkincrew,”wecalledthem.Noonewasoveraboutfivefootfive.

Themunchkinboat crewhadoneAmerican Indian,oneAfricanAmerican,onePolishAmerican,oneGreekAmerican,oneItalianAmerican,andtwotoughkidsfromtheMidwest.Theyoutpaddled,outran,andoutswamalltheotherboatcrews.

Thebigmenintheotherboatcrewswouldalwaysmakegood-naturedfunofthe tiny little flippers themunchkins put on their tiny little feet prior to everyswim.But somehow these little guys, fromevery corner of thenation and theworld,alwayshad the last laugh, swimmingfaster thaneveryoneand reachingtheshorelongbeforetherestofus.

SEAL training was a great equalizer. Nothing mattered but your will tosucceed;notyourcolor,notyourethnicbackground,notyoureducation,andnotyoursocialstatus.Ifyouwanttochangetheworld,measureapersonbythesizeoftheirheart,

notthesizeoftheirflippers.

Several timesaweek, the instructorswould lineuptheclassanddoauniforminspection.Itwasexceptionallythorough.Yourhathadtobeperfectlystarched,your uniform immaculately pressed, andyour belt buckle shiny anddevoid ofanysmudges.

Butitseemedthatnomatterhowmucheffortyouputintostarchingyourhator pressing your uniform or polishing your belt buckle, it just wasn’t goodenough.Theinstructorswouldfind“something”wrong.

Forfailingtheuniforminspection,thestudenthadtorun,fullyclothed,intothesurfzoneandthen,wetfromheadtotoe,rollaroundonthebeachuntileverypart of his body was covered with sand. The effect was known as a “sugarcookie.”Youstayedinthatuniformtherestoftheday,cold,wet,andsandy.

There were many students who just couldn’t accept the fact that all theireffortwasinvain.Thatnomatterhowhardtheytriedtogettheuniformright,itwas unappreciated. Those students didn’t make it through training. Thosestudents didn’t understand the purpose of the drill. You were never going tosucceed.Youwerenevergoingtohaveaperfectuniform.

Sometimes nomatter howwell you prepare or howwell you perform youstillendupasasugarcookie.It’sjustthewaylifeissometimes.If you want to change the world, get over being a sugar cookie and keep

movingforward.

Every day during training youwere challengedwithmultiple physical events.Long runs, long swims, obstacle courses, andhoursof calisthenics, somethingdesignedtotestyourmettle.

Everyeventhadstandards:timesyouhadtomeet.Ifyoufailedtomeetthosestandardsyournamewaspostedonalist,andattheendofthedaythoseonthelistwereinvitedtoaCircus.

A Circus was two hours of additional calisthenics designed to wear youdown,tobreakyourspirit,toforceyoutoquit.Noonewantedacircus.ACircusmeant that, for thatday,youdidn’tmeasureup.ACircusmeantmore fatigue,andmore fatiguemeant that the following day would bemore difficult—andmoreCircuseswerelikely.

But at some time during SEAL training, everyone—everyone—made theCircuslist.Andaninterestingthinghappenedtothosewhowereconstantlyonthe list.Over time thosestudents,whodid twohoursofextracalisthenics,gotstronger and stronger. The pain of the Circuses built inner strength, built

physicalresiliency.Lifeisfilledwithcircuses.Youwillfail.Youwilllikelyfailoften.Itwillbe

painful.Itwillbediscouraging.Attimesitwilltestyoutoyourverycore.Ifyouwanttochangetheworld,don’tbeafraidoftheCircuses.

Atleasttwiceaweek,thetraineeswererequiredtoruntheobstaclecourse.Theobstaclecoursecontainedtwenty-fiveobstaclesincludingaten-foot-highwall,athirty-footcargonet,andabarbed-wirecrawl,tonameafew.

But themost challenging obstaclewas the “Slide forLife.” It had a three-level,thirty-foottoweratoneendandaone-leveltowerattheother.Inbetweenwasahundred-foot-longrope.

Youhadtoclimbthethree-tieredtowerand,onceatthetop,yougrabbedtherope,swungunderneaththerope,andpulledyourselfhandoverhanduntilyougottotheotherend.Therecordfortheobstaclecoursehadstoodforyearswhenmyclassbegantrainingin1977.Therecordseemedunbeatable,untiloneday,astudentdecidedtogodowntheSlideforLife—headfirst.

Insteadofswinginghisbodyunderneaththeropeandinchinghiswaydown,he bravely mounted the top of the rope and thrust himself forward. It was adangerousmove, seemingly foolish, and fraughtwith risk.Failure couldmeaninjuryandbeingdroppedfromthetraining.Withouthesitation,thestudentsliddownthe ropeperilously fast,and insteadofseveralminutes, it tookhimonlyhalfthattime.Bytheendofthecoursehehadbrokentherecord.If you want to change the world, sometimes you have to slide down the

obstacleheadfirst.

During the land warfare phase of training, the students are flown out to SanClemente Island, which lies off the coast of San Diego. The waters off SanClementeareabreedinggroundforgreatwhitesharks.TopassSEALtrainingthereareaseriesoflongswimsthatmustbecompleted.Oneisthenightswim.

BeforetheswimtheinstructorsjoyfullybriefthetraineesonallthespeciesofsharksthatinhabitthewatersoffSanClemente.Theyassureyou,however,thatnostudenthaseverbeeneatenbyashark—atleastnotrecently.

Butyouarealsotaught that ifasharkbeginstocircleyourposition—standyourground.Donotswimaway.Donotactafraid.Andiftheshark,hungryfora midnight snack, darts toward you—then summon up all your strength and

punchhiminthesnout,andhewillturnandswimaway.Therearealotofsharksintheworld.Ifyouhopetocompletetheswimyou

willhavetodealwiththem.Ifyouwanttochangetheworld,don’tbackdownfromthesharks.

OneofourjobsasNavySEALsistoconductunderwaterattacksagainstenemyshipping.Wepracticedthistechniqueextensivelyduringbasictraining.TheshipattackmissioniswhereapairofSEALdiversisdroppedoffoutsideanenemyharborandthentheyswimwellovertwomilesunderwaterusingnothingbutadepthgaugeandacompasstogettotheirtarget.

Duringtheentireswim,evenwellbelowthesurfacethereissomelightthatcomesthrough.Itiscomfortingtoknowthatthereisopenwateraboveyou.Butasyouapproach the ship,which is tied toapier, the lightbegins to fade.Thesteelstructureoftheshipblocksthemoonlight;itblocksthesurroundingstreetlamps.Itblocksallambientlight.

Tobesuccessfulinyourmission,youhavetoswimundertheshipandfindthekeel,thecenterlineandthedeepestpartoftheship.Thisisyourobjective.Butthekeelisalsothedarkestpartoftheship,whereyoucannotseeyourhandin frontofyour face,where thenoise from the ship’smachinery isdeafening,andwhereitiseasytogetdisorientedandfail.

Every SEAL knows that under the keel, at the darkest moment of themission,isthetimewhenyoumustbecalm—composed—whenallyourtacticalskills,yourphysicalpower,andallyourinnerstrengthmustbebroughttobear.Ifyouwant tochange theworld,youmustbeyourverybest in thedarkest

moment.

TheninthweekoftrainingisreferredtoasHellWeek.Itissixdaysofnosleep,constant physical andmental harassment, andone special day at themudflats.ThemudflatsareanareabetweenSanDiegoandTijuanawherethewaterrunsoffandcreatestheTijuanaslues,aswampypatchofterrainwherethemudwillengulfyou.

ItisonWednesdayofHellWeekthatyoupaddledowntothemudflatsandspendthenextfifteenhourstryingtosurvivethefreezingcoldmud,thehowlingwind,andtheincessantpressurefromtheinstructorstoquit.

As thesunbegan toset thatWednesdayevening,my trainingclass,having

committedsome“egregious infractionof therules,”wasordered into themud.Themudconsumedeachmantill therewasnothingvisiblebutourheads.Theinstructorstolduswecouldleavethemudifonlyfivemenwouldquit;justfivemenandwecouldgetoutoftheoppressivecold.

As I looked around themudflats, it was apparent that some students wereabout togiveup. Itwas stillovereighthours till the suncameup,eightmorehours of bone-chilling cold. The chattering teeth and shivering moans of thetraineesweresolouditwashardtohearanything.Andthen,onevoicebegantoecho through thenight,onevoice raised in song.Thesongwas terriblyoutoftune, but sungwithgreat enthusiasm.Onevoicebecame twoand twobecamethreeandbeforelongeveryoneintheclasswassinging.

Weknewthat ifonemancouldriseabove themisery, thenotherscouldaswell.Theinstructorsthreateneduswithmoretimeinthemudifwekeptupthesinging, but the singing persisted. And somehow the mud seemed a littlewarmer,thewindalittletamer,andthedawnnotsofaraway.

IfIhavelearnedanythinginmytimetravelingtheworld,itisthepowerofhope. The power of one person, aWashington, Lincoln, King, Mandela, andevenayounggirl fromPakistan,Malala.Onepersoncanchange theworldbygivingpeoplehope.Ifyouwanttochangetheworld,startsingingwhenyou’reuptoyourneckin

mud.

Finally,inSEALtrainingthereisabell,abrassbellthathangsinthecenterofthecompoundforall thestudents tosee.Allyouhavetodotoquit isringthebell.Ringthebellandyounolongerhavetowakeupatfiveo’clock.Ringthebellandyounolongerhavetodothefreezingcoldswims.Ringthebellandyouno longerhave todo the runs, theobstacle course, thePT, andyouno longerhavetoendurethehardshipsoftraining.

Justringthebell.Ifyouwanttochangetheworld,don’tever,everringthebell.

To the graduating class of 2014, you are moments away from graduating.Momentsawayfrombeginningyourjourneythroughlife.Momentsawayfromstartingtochangetheworld,forthebetter.Itwillnotbeeasy.

Starteachdaywithataskcompleted.Findsomeonetohelpyouthroughlife.

Respecteveryone.Knowthat life isnot fairand thatyouwill failoften,but ifyoutakesomerisks,stepupwhenthetimesaretoughest,facedownthebullies,liftupthedowntrodden,andnever,evergiveup…ifyoudothesethings,thenthenextgenerationandthegenerationsthatfollowwillliveinaworldfarbetterthantheonewehavetoday.Andwhatstartedherewillindeedhavechangedtheworld,forthebetter.

Thankyouverymuch.Hook’em,Horns.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

IwouldliketothankmyeditorJamieRaabforherpatienceandunderstanding.YoucraftedabeautifulbookthatIknowwillstandthetestoftime.Ialsowantto thankall thosegreat friendswhoagreed tobementioned in thebook.Yourcourageinthefaceoftremendousadversityinspiredmemorethanyouwilleverknow.

ABOUTTHEAUTHOR

AdmiralWilliamH.McRaven(U.S.Navyretired)servedwithgreatdistinctionintheNavy.Inhisthirty-sevenyearsasaNavySEAL,hecommandedateverylevel.As a Four-StarAdmiral, his final assignmentwas asCommander of allU.S.SpecialOperationsForces.HeisnowChancelloroftheUniversityofTexasSystem.

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