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F
IGHTS AND
M
ORE
F
IGHTS
I
am by no means a bad-ass, or even an extremely skilled fighter,
but several instances have presented themselves. I would rather get
my ass beat than look like a pussy in front of my boys.
I have had other run-ins with fighters. I like to think I’ve held my
own.
While I was serving with my very first platoon, the whole SEAL
team went to Fort Irwin in San Bernardino out in the Mojave
Desert. After our training sessions, we headed into town and found
a bar there, called the Library.
Inside, a few off-duty police officers and firemen were having a
party. A few of the women turned their attention to our guys. When
that happened, the locals got all jealous and started a fight.
Which really showed some truly poor judgment, because there
had to be close to a hundred of us in that little bar. A hundred
SEALs is a force to be reckoned with, and we did the reckoning
that day. Then we went outside and flipped over a couple of cars.
Somewhere around there, the cops came. They arrested twenty-
five of us.
Y
ou’ve probably heard of captain’s mast—that’s where the
commanding officer listens to what you’ve done and hands out what
is called a nonjudicial punishment if he thinks it’s warranted. The
punishments are prescribed by military law and can be anything
from a stern “tsk, tsk, don’t do that again” to an actual reduction in
grade and even “correctional custody,” which pretty much means
what you think it means.
There are similar hearings with less critical consequences, heard
by officers below the CO. In our case, we had to go before the XO
(executive officer, the officer just below the commander)
and listen
while he told us in extremely eloquent language
how truly
....
up
we were. In the process, he read off all the
legal charges, all the
destruction—I forget how many
people got hurt and how much
money’s worth of damage
we caused, but it took a while for him to
catalog. He
finished by telling us how ashamed he was.
“All right,” he said, lecture over. “Don’t let it happen again. Get
the hell out of here.”
We all left, duly chastised, his words ringing in our ears for . . . a
good five seconds or so.
But the story doesn’t end there.
Another unit heard of our little adventure, and they decided that
they should visit the bar and see if history would repeat itself.
It did.
They won that fight, but from what I understand the conditions
were a little more difficult. The outcome wasn’t quite so lopsided.
A little after that, yet another military group soon had to train in
the same area. By now, there was a competition. The only problem
was that the folks who lived there knew there would be a
competition. And they prepared for it.
They got their collective asses kicked.
From then on, the entire town was placed off limits for SEALs.
Y
ou might think it’d be tough to get into a drunken brawl in
Kuwait, since there really aren’t any bars where you can drink
alcohol. But it just so happened that there was a restaurant where
we liked to eat, and where, not so coincidentally, it was easy to
sneak in alcohol.
We were there one night and started to get a little loud. Some of
the locals objected; there was an argument, which led to a fight.
Four of us, including myself, were detained.
The rest of my boys came over and asked the police to release
us.
“No way,” said the police. “They’re going to jail and stand trial.”
They emphasized their position. My boys emphasized theirs.
If you’ve read this far, you’ve caught on that SEALs can be very
persuasive. The Kuwaitis finally saw it their way and released us.
I
was arrested in Steamboat Springs, Colorado, though I think in
that case the circumstances may speak well of me. I was sitting in
the bar when a waitress passed with a pitcher of beer. A guy at a
table nearby pushed his chair back and bumped into her, not
knowing she was there; a little bit of beer spilled on him.
He got up and slapped her.
I went over and defended her honor the only way I know how.
That got me arrested. Those granolas are tough when it comes to
fighting with women.
Those charges, like all the others, were dismissed.
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