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Hooyah, Instructor Reno!
And then he let us sit down again.
What followed was probably the most stern lecture in SEAL ethos and ethics I’ve ever
attended. I did take notes, and I recall everything he told us, and I’ll try to relate it as I believe
Reno would wish.
“This is high-risk training. And we define that as anywhere there is potential for serious
injury or loss of life. Any of you see anything unsafe, or any situation where you may be in
unnecessary danger, speak up immediately. We do not like mistakes, understand me?”
“Hooyah!”
“Always remember your own accountability, to yourselves, your superiors, and your teammates.
The chain of command is sacred. Use it. Keep your boat-crew leaders and your class leaders
informed of any digression from the normal. And stay with your swim buddy. I don’t care if
you’re going to the head, you stay right with him. Understood?”
“Hooyah!”
“Respect. I expect you to show complete respect for the instructor staff, the class officers, and
the senior petty officers. You are in the military. You will be courteous at all times.
Understood?”
“Hooyah!”
“Integrity, gentlemen. You don’t lie, cheat, or steal. Ever. You lose an item of gear, you put in a
chit and report it. You do not take someone else’s gear. I won’t pretend that has not happened
here in the past. Because it has. But those guys were instantly finished. Their feet never touched
the ground. They were gone. That day. You will respect your classmate. And his gear. You do
not take what is not yours. Understood?”
“Hooyah!”
“I’m your class proctor for the next two weeks. And I’ll help you, if you need help, over matters
of pay, family, and personal concerns. If you get injured, go to medical and get it fixed and get
back into training. I’m your proctor. Not your mother. I’m here to teach you. You stay in the
box, I’ll help you. You get outside the box, I’ll hammer you. Understood?”
“Hooyah!”
“Finally, reputation. And your reputation begins right here. And so does the reputation of Class
Two-two-six. And that’s a reflection on me. It’s a responsibility I take very personally. Because
reputation is everything. In life, and especially right here in Coronado. So stay focused. Keep
your head right in the game. Put out a hundred percent at all times, because we’ll know if you
don’t. And never, ever, leave your swim buddy. Any questions?”
“Negative!”
Who could ever forget that? Not me. I can still hear in my mind the sharp crack as
Instructor Reno snapped shut his notebook. It sounded to me like Moses, hammering together the
granite slabs which held the 10 Commandments. That Reno was a five-foot-six-inch giant. He
was some presence in our lives.
That day we bailed out of the classroom and went for a four-mile run along the beach.
Three times he stopped us and told us to get in the surf and “get wet and sandy.”
Our boots were waterlogged and each passing mile was murder. We never could get the sand out
of our shorts. Our skin was chafing, and Reno didn’t give a damn. At the end of the run, he
ordered us to drop and start pushing ’em out. He gave us two sets of twenty, and right toward the
end of the first set, I noticed he was doing the exercise with us. Except he was using only one
arm, and he didn’t even look like he was breathing hard.
That guy could have arm wrestled a half-ton gorilla. And just the sight of him cruising
through the push-ups alongside us gave us a fair idea of the standard of fitness and strength
required for us to make it through BUD/S.
As we prepared to make the mile run to the chow hall around noon, Reno told us calmly,
“Remember, there’s just a few of you here who we’d probably have to kill before you’d quit. We
know that, and I’ve already identified some of you. That’s what I am here to find out. Which of
you can take the pain and the cold and the misery. We’re here to find out who wants it most.
Nothing more. Some of you won’t, some of you can’t and never will. No hard feelings. Just
don’t waste our time any longer than necessary.”
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