Lone Survivor_ The Eyewitness Account of Operation Redwing and the Lost Heroes of SEAL Team 10 ( PDFDrive )

inserted that poison into my mind. I might have passed out, had a heart attack, or
been shot before a firing squad. But I never would have quit.
Soon as the quitters had gone, we were put right back to work. Lifting the
boats into a head carry for the run over to the chow hall, only another mile.
When I got there I was as close to collapse as I’d ever been. But they still made
us push ’em out, lift the boat, to work up an appetite, I suppose.
Eventually they freed us to get breakfast. We had lost ten men during the
nine hours that had passed since Hell Week began; nine hours since those
yelling, shooting gunmen had driven Class 226 out of their classroom, nine
hours since we had been dry and felt more or less human.
They were nine hours that had changed the lives and perceptions of those
who could stand it no more. I doubt the rest of us would ever be quite the same
again.
Inside the chow hall some of the guys were shell-shocked. They just sat
staring at their plates, unable to function normally. I was not one of them. I felt
like I was on the edge of starvation, and I steamed into those eggs, toast, and
sausages, relishing the food, relishing the freedom from the shouts and
commands of the instructors.
Just as well I made the most of it. Seven minutes on the clock after I finished
my breakfast, the new shift of instructors was up and yelling.
“That’s it, children — up and out of here. Let’s get going. Outside! Right
now! Move! Move! Move! Let’s start the day right.”
Start the day! Was this guy out of his mind? We were still soaked, covered in
sand, and we’d been up half killing ourselves all night.
Right then I knew for certain: there was indeed no mercy in Hell Week.
Everything we’d heard was true. You think you’re tough, kid? Then you go right
ahead and prove it to us.