Free Battle Ready: Memoir of a SEAL Warrior Medic by Mark L. Donald, Scott Mactavish Page B

“circuses.” At first everyone dreaded ending the day with an additional twenty to sixty minutes of intense exercise, but over time, and as the class began to thin out, it became more of a source of pride than a punishment, kind of like Class 159’s own special routine. Circuses taught us that no matter how well things went, at the end of the day bad things were coming, so we needn’t spend time worrying about what we couldn’t control. We were better off mentally preparing for the eventual collision, “bracing for shock,” as they say in the navy. I don’t know if it made any difference physically preparing us for Hell Week, but it definitely built our mental tenacity and forged the attitude of the class.
    This take-it-as-it-comes approach was clearly evident as we gathered for morning muster. Despite being on the precipice of BUD/S training, no one seemed to act any different. I’m not saying the class was free of worry; I just can’t remember anxiety being the dominant emotion among the group. We all knew not everyone was going to make it, and by the end of the week it would all be decided, so no need to concern ourselves with the inevitable punishment or wondering about who might or might not be standing when the sand settled. We had work to do.
    After a quick roll call, our class leader, Ensign Houck, briefed us about the day’s activities. Then Drexler, our leading petty officer, separated us into our boat crews so we could begin final preparations. Although we were all busy working on our boats, stories about holiday adventures began to permeate through the ranks, and it didn’t take long before some of the more colorful classmates had us on the floor laughing about their exploits. I think to an outsider it would seem an unusual way of mentally preparing for arguably the hardest week on earth, but we took it in stride. Christmas and New Year’s fractured our training schedule at the worst possible time, and there wasn’t anything we could do about it. When we first received 159’s training calendar, everyone winced seeing where the holiday leave period fell. I remember feeling as if a sick joke had been played upon us, but it was nothing more than dumb luck. Every few years a class gets screwed over by the holidays, and this time it was our turn.
    Unfortunately, we would receive our obligatory vacation just before the start of Hell Week and return only one day prior to Breakout, the simulated combat situation that kicks it off. So ensued the dilemma. Take leave and spend Christmas with Mom and Dad to refresh and recharge the batteries but risk losing focus, or stay on the island to train and spend it among classmates at the local pub, which might be far worse. For some it was a hard decision, often switching back and forth depending on how severe the circus was that day. For me it was simple. I knew if I went home to Albuquerque I would return the size of the house. Nothing’s more appealing to me than traditional New Mexico cooking founded on the two most essential food groups, fat and salt. Worse yet, my Mexican mother would feel compelled to get everything for “mijo,” her little boy, which meant I’d never leave the couch or risk breaking her heart. Nope, I’m staying! Actually, in the end it didn’t matter too much what choice we made. Despite the fact that we all kept working out like madmen, no student alive could avoid partaking in the wondrous amounts of food, freedom, and merriment that come with the holidays after being beaten up for months on end. Without any formalized group training program, it would take one mentally strong class to be able to go from zero to a thousand miles an hour with only little more than a day between the two. Suddenly the genius of having the circuses became apparent.
    After hearing a few comical stories, our attention went back to our individual boat stations and we started checking the essential components on our boats. An Inflatable Boat Small, or IBS, as