This is Jocco Podcast number 82 with Echo Charles and me, Jocco Willink. Good evening, Echo.

Good evening.

I was walking down the street and I was pretty sure I would die and I did not mind.

In fact, a large part of me looked forward to it, to that release, to go to heaven, to meet Christ, for it all to be over.

I courted death like a sailor quartz, a twirling Spanish bar maid.

I was not afraid even as we try to cross broken streets with asphalt and makeshift concrete piled like sloppy cake icing, hiding the surprises below.

Large IEDs and screams and blood and burning flesh and burning vehicle tires.

All superficially hidden.

All obviously present.

All a joke.

Death had been at the forefront of my mind and part of my decision to become a soldier at all.

And that's what I considered myself, a soldier, a grunt, an infantryman, a ground pounder, a soldier.

What else is there?

We all turned into soldiers on patrol.

We competed with each other and the men and other units and other services to see who could patrol in the most disciplined way.

We would see who we could catch staring at his feet, or not watching his field of fire, or not scanning for threats, or not keeping his shooting hand on his gun.

And when the shooting did start, we would watch to see who would panic and who would cower.

These were seemingly fun games and recesses breaking up the fear which was so overpowering it put a deep ache in our stomachs and in our bowels.

It was chaos that brought me to this point.

Wild music as a young boy, slayer, Metallica in their prime, Venom, Motorhead.

Heavy alcohol used by age 10.

Drug used by age 11.

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