George E. Hand IV

Amidst the gritty realism of Delta Force, where the unforgiving nature of our training was matched only by our unwavering brotherhood, we relentlessly pursued the fleeting glory of being the top gun, a title as coveted as it was ephemeral.

Amidst the low-visibility and cozy confines of our little Green Beret haven, we embraced the simple pleasures of pipe smoking and petting dogs, a stark contrast to the usual military rigidity and prying eyes of higher headquarters.

In the ever-twisting saga of workout fads, from pyramid hat wearing to Wonder Woman bracelets, we chased the elusive specter of fitness with a blend of skepticism and hope, always on the lookout for that next magical, albeit often ridiculous, solution to sculpt our wayward bodies into paragons of health and lethal vitality.

Preparing for Delta Force selection is a grueling affair, and it cannot be attempted without the proper sense of humor and humility.

The Waterborne Infiltrations Course, aptly nicknamed ‘Ranger School on Water,’ pushed us to our limits, but it died a quiet death due to lack of support, a testament to the hard, thankless grind it really was.

With a pause and a lungful, I pushed into the door. And, lo! I beheld racks and racks of every kind of weapon I had ever seen!

In the dead of night, with the streets empty and the world holding its breath, I raced to answer the call, wondering if this was just another drill or the moment everything changed.

Amid the unpredictable antics of C-5 Galaxies and the spirited games of combat basketball, we found camaraderie and resilience, always hoping our next flight wouldn’t turn back but instead carry us onward to our next adventure.

Armed with my trusty Benchmade dagger, a high-voltage stun gun, an intimidating telescoping BBC stick, the most wicked pepper spray known to man, my Glock 17 loaded with 9mm rounds, and a Spikes Tactical ST-15 for when things get really dicey, I patrol the streets of Albuquerque, ready to stand my ground against any threat.

Even as I stood there, contemplating the raw intensity of that free fall, I couldn’t shake the realization that my fear of jumping was as vivid as ever.

And there we were, a bunch of Green Berets, huddled around a makeshift breakfast table, swapping stories and jokes with a wounded Korean soldier, finding humor and camaraderie amidst the chaos of our unexpected adventure in the ROK.

From rucking through the Rockies to navigating the nuances of Korea, my journey as a soldier has been a tapestry of gritty experiences and humorous encounters, all underpinned by the unbreakable spirit of camaraderie and adaptability.