Stephen Templin's Blog, page 14
October 22, 2014
Get a Grip: Former SEAL Team Six Operator
Former SEAL Team Six operator Kyle Defoor discusses pistol grip:
And here he shows how he customizes his weapon:
And here he shows how he customizes his weapon:
October 21, 2014
October 16, 2014
"One of these things is not like the other..." (Lyrics by Sesame Street)
Medical personnel transport Ebola patient.October 14, 2014
October 10, 2014
October 2, 2014
September 29, 2014
SEAL Training #24: "You All Fail!"
Thursday morning after breakfast, most of us had our biggest scare of Hell Week. The SEAL instructors herded us into a warm classroom and sat us down. We stank like something out of the sewers: sweat, mildew, open sores, mud, seawater, seaweed, and piss. Our stench kept the instructors at a distance as they handed out paper and pencils.An instructor said, "Write down your Hell Week experience up until now and do not fall asleep."
I started to write something then caught myself nodding off, but I persisted in writing. The room gradually grew darker as if someone was using a dim switch on the lights. Our class officers and others fell asleep. It became so dark that I couldn't even see what I was writing anymore. From behind me, an instructor tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around, and he motioned for me to quietly leave the classroom.
About five of us, including our leading enlisted man, stood outside the classroom for a few minutes waiting for further instructions.
I could hear an instructor's voice come from inside the classroom. "What are you people doing? You slept for five hours! The only way you can make up that time is to repeat Hell Week again! You all are going to fail! Get wet and sandy! Move, move, move!"
Suddenly, the sleepy-heads came bursting out of the classroom in a panic, running to the surf. The handful of us who stayed awake caught up to our frightened classmates, who were wet and covered with a layer of sand like sugar cookies.
The Ecuadoran Special Operations guy, Martinez, said, "Instructor say we go Hell Week again!"
"It's not true," I said.
Our leading enlisted guy laughed. "You guys weren't asleep more than five minutes."
The sleepy-heads looked like they wanted to believe us, but they didn't know what to believe. I don't know who was smarter: us for following orders or them for getting an extra five minutes of sleep. Either way, there was no time to dwell on it. We still had more to do...
September 22, 2014
SEAL Training #23: Good Cop, Bad Cop
At night, an instructor gathered us near a bonfire—he was a black SEAL, but in the Teams, everyone is the same color: green. "I'm proud of you guys. You made it to Wednesday night of Hell Week; you'll make it all the way." He joked and told stories about the Teams. "I was doing a parachute jump when I got tangled up and landed head-first, breaking my neck. The doctor put me in a halo brace. Attached it to my skull with screws, and the halo was connected to a plastic vest..."Martinez, the Ecuadoran Special Operations guy and I stayed close to the fire but far from the SEAL instructor. Martinez and I were so close to the fire that our wet clothing smoldered. All the time, I repeated to myself: I want to get in the ocean. The ocean is so warm and peaceful. I want to get in the ocean, I want to get in the ocean...
I noticed one of my classmates standing away from the fire, shivering. Wewere expecting the same thing—different approaches—but the same expectation. The body experiences less shock going from cold to very cold; however, it takes longer for the body temperature to drop from steaming hot to very cold.
One of my classmates said to Martinez and me, "You guys are catching on fire."
Martinez and I remained in place—smoldering. "Thanks." When my front got too hot to withstand, I turned around to heat up my back. I popped open my packet of peanut butter and kept telling myself how much I wanted to get in the water.
The joking and stories went on until Instructor Januzzi arrived to relieve the other SEAL instructor. We all liked the Italian Stallion—even when he gave two other guys and me some extra attention for our Italian heritage, we were smiling. On weekends, with his leather jacket, thick black mustache, and Harley Davidson motorcycle, he looked like a Hell's Angel. Januzzi's laughter was infectious.
We were excited to see him. "HOOYAH, INSTRUCTOR BENELLI!"
"What are you people doing?" he screamed. "This is Hell Week! Get in the water! NOW!"
Seeing this other side of Januzzi shocked us, but I was happy to be heading back into the surf. It was just what I'd been hoping for. As I rolled around in my Pacific hot tub, I tried to remember every girl I had ever kissed—the innocent first grade kiss of Christina on the playground, the not-so-innocent high school kiss in the backseat of a car on a Friday night, and the others... While I sat in my hot tub reminiscing of good times, I shut out everything around me. A blur of guys rang the bell—if I had focused on them, it might’ve broken my heart. I might’ve realized how cold I was. Might’ve started feeling sorry for myself. After the demoralizing blow of Parsons being the first to ring out, this was the second worst moment of Hell Week for me. These were some of our toughest brothers, and now they were gone. The good cop-bad cop routine had taken a sizeable chunk out of us. And those of us who stuck it out were freezing our petunias off.
After the bell-ringing died, my class came out of the water to get hammered on land.
Finally, Instructor Januzzi stopped the beach games. "Now I want each of your crews to turn your boat upside down and make a lean-to shelter. Prop one side up with the paddles and make sure the open side faces away from the wind."
My crew and I finished our shelter. We waited until Instructor Januzzi came around to inspect us. "Now lie down under the boat with your heads near the closed end and your feet near the opening." Still shivering and wet, we complied, huddling up close to each other for body warmth. "I'm going to cover your bodies with sand. This will give you insulation to keep you warm." He shoveled generous amounts of sand on our bodies. "Now get some sleep. You're going to need it."
Martinez snored immediately—bastard. I crashed. Like before, I skipped over the NREM (Non-Rapid Eye Movement) stage and went straight to REM (Rapid Eye Movement): instant deep sleep. We slept for about 60 glorious minutes—our second official sleep. It was Wednesday night and we had a total of about 2 1/2 hours sleep since Sunday at midnight.
I awoke to Instructor Januzzi's command, "Hit the surf!"
We stood groggily as if everyone had been in deep sleep—either the light sleepers and non-sleepers had evolved or they were no longer with us. I couldn’t feel that sense of dread in our class anymore—just another day in Hell Week.
September 15, 2014
SEAL Training #22: Mud Olympics
Petty Officer Lee received treatment at Medical for hypothermia. He recovered but didn’t return to Hell Week. Since he'd finished half of Hell Week with a previous class and half with my class when he hyped out, the instructors decided that two halves equaled a whole—Lee would rejoin my class after we completed Hell Week—we were excited with the news we hadn't lost him.Now, the instructors must have felt some relief knowing that they had whittled the group down to the guys who didn't know when to give up. They must also have felt a burden of responsibility, knowing that we were the mule-headed ones who might literally die trying to succeed.
For me, every sunrise in Hell Week was spectacular—it's warmth and light were unmatched by anything man could ever create. Thursday morning, we upped boats and headed east across Highway 75 to arrive at the Mud Flats of San Diego Bay. The Mud Olympics began: cartwheel races, fireman's carry races, leapfrog races, snake races, three-legged races, wheelbarrow races. Every step I took sunk about a foot into the black slime. In the end, we looked like chocolate Easter bunnies except for the whites of our eyes.
Later, we washed most of the mud off in the bay before we paddled our boats north to the NAB for more games, a hot lunch, and a trip to Medical at the Naval Special Warfare Center. Medical personnel examined us for serious injuries, including "flesh-eating bacteria." Actually, the bacteria release toxins that destroy skin and muscle rather than actually eating us. Since trauma covered our bodies from head to toe, we were meals on wheels for the killer bacteria. We should have enjoyed the pause from more strenuous activities, but most of us stressed about being pulled from Hell Week for medical problems. Even though we looked like the living dead, most of us acted as if we were perfectly healthy—like Monty Python's Black Knight: "It's just a flesh wound!" Fortunately, medical cleared all of us to continue Hell Week.
September 12, 2014
Book Signing in Long Beach, California
I'll be signing books and speaking Saturday, November 15, 2014 in Long Beach, California at the Hyatt Regency Long Beach for the Bouchercon 2014 convention. First, at 3 PM in Promenade C (Hyatt Regency), I'll speak on a panel about "The Lure of Secret Work: Talking Spies, Espionage, and Special Ops." Next, the panel ends at 4 PM when you can follow me to the book signing. Come early and stay later to see Jeffery Deaver and other famous authors, Hope to see you there!
