What Am I Thankful For?
Somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean.
On a 560-foot American-built stealth war machine.
That’s when I knew.
Right there.
Right then.
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When you go to sea on a submarine...you are constantly at war.
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Salt water is corrosive, especially for a steel boat full of pipes, valves, and all kinds of sensitive equipment.
Things break.
It might be something minimal.
It might be the only thing onboard that does its job.
You work with people, from recent high-school graduates to the senior enlisted advisors.
It is paramount they know what to do when things break.
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You depend on every single man and woman onboard to do their job so that when you get a chance to rest, you can do it peacefully.
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I slept about 10 feet from the rocket boosters on 44-foot-tall ICBM’s.
The ones that would make Hiroshima and Nagasaki look like child’s play.
Every deployment, every time I laid my head down in my coffin rack, I told myself, “yea they’re not that big.”
I could hear a slight moving-water sound right outside the ship's hull.
Hundreds of feet deep, it’s calming, soothing in fact.
The rack fan constantly blew cold air over me as I slept.
It was expected.
So much so that every time we lost power, I would wake immediately.
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Even at home, years later, if I were asleep and my wife turned off the ceiling fan, I’d wake immediately to combat a casualty.
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What really got me.
It was something so simple.
Not the massive engineering that it took to take a ship displacing over 18,000 tons to submerge and safely surface whenever we needed.
It wasn’t the fact that we harnessed nuclear fission and put it in a metal basket, turned it into propulsion for sustained operation.
It wasn’t the fact that we took sea water, broke it down into hydrogen and oxygen and created breathing air or fresh water for drinking and showering.
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It was standing in the sail, next to the Officer of the Deck, the topside lookout, and two buddies from our divisions.
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Staring at the black night sky in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean dotted with stars so bright and clear.
I will never forget them.
The moon's glow off the rising and falling crests of the relentless sea.
The dolphins jumping in front of the bow.
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It was knowing that I had made something of myself. I had made my parents proud. I had safely defended our country. I provided for my wife and only daughter (at the time). Two-time girl dad here.
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I tempted fate time and time again with some of the best people the United States has to offer.
Those who lost family members in battle.
Those who were first generation service members.
People of all races.
People from New York, California, Texas, and some who immigrated from other countries.
Americans.
All of them.
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This Veterans Day, I am thankful for:
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Their service.
Their dedication.
Their friendship.
Their sacrifices.
Their devotion to our beautifully imperfect country.
The experience that allowed me to see the part of myself that mattered the most.
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We were just one small thread of the fabric that is sewn into the stars and stripes on that flag.
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That’s when I knew.
Right there.
Right then.
On a 560-feet American built stealth war machine.
Somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean.
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