Category: story

“Please describe a time when you overcame a personal setback.”

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A lot of people have asked me how I was able to get into MIT and Harvard, to be quite honest with you I am dumfounded and ask myself the same question.  I did not have the grades or the test scores, but I knew if I told my story just right, I might have a shot.  The following is one of my essays for MIT Sloan (27 December 2012).  The essay prompt really played into my favor.

” Please describe a time when you overcame a personal setback. (500 words or fewer, limited to one page)”

On September 25, 2011, my United States Army Special Forces team (Green Beret) and partner force, the elite Afghan Commandos, battled Taliban fighters in the mountains of northwest Afghanistan. In the 10th hour of the engagement I felt a piercing pain in my stomach, hip, and leg; I had suffered a gunshot wound to my lower abdomen. I thought I was going to die. Thankfully, I lived, but it marked the beginning of a long and painful journey. I sustained a fractured hip, lost 20% of my colon, and suffered a damaged femoral nerve, resulting in permanent disability.

Initially, I was completely dependent on others. I had gone from a strapping Green Beret to a man who could not dress or bathe himself. Before I was wounded, I was an avid runner and outdoorsman. I was crushed when doctors told me that I would never run again and would only be able to walk with the assistance of a leg brace.

Ernie Tabata – SF Legend – RIP

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Ernie

Excerpt from Chapter 3: The Q-Course 

Almost four months ago, while writing about my time in the Q-Course, I wrote a few paragraphs about SF legend Ernie Tabata.  At the age of 84 Ernie passed away on August 10, 2015.  In memory of a great man, warrior and teacher I want to share the passage about Ernie.  

The one thing that all 18-charlies have in common, both current and former, is that they were taught by Ernie Tabata. In 1946, Ernie joined the Hawaii National Guard then went on to fight in both Korea and Vietnam. Ernie retired in 1981 and began teaching Special Forces engineers in 1984. By the time that I went through the Q course, Ernie had been teaching for almost 30 years.  He still jumped out of airplanes and was always an active participant at demolitions ranges. One time he lit himself on fire while throwing a Molotov Cocktail. To say Ernie was crusty is an understatement. He used the phrase “God-Damn” so much that I was afraid God might smite Ernie before our very eyes and then the rest of the class for listening to him.

During classroom sessions, no matter what the topic, Ernie always started talking about Vietnam. When the lesson turned from explosives to living in a Montagnard village in the Vietnamese highlands, Ernie’s demeanor, tone and face changed. On one particular occasion, Ernie told us about a period in the war when the Montagnards (indigenous Vietnamese tribes that detested the Vietnamese.

What Memorial Day Means to Me

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(This article was originally posted on Memorial Day 2015)

“Only the dead have seen the end of war.” Plato 

Prior to my first deployment to Afghanistan I had the unsavory task of putting together my “death packet.” This packet outlines in detail your wishes in the unfortunate event that you die on the upcoming deployment. If you are married, your wife is required to sign off on your choices. Instead of planning for our future life together, my wife and I were planning for life without me. My choices were met with resistance.

As a twenty-five year old newly minted Green Beret I made a big joke out of this very serious exercise; making outlandish requests in my packet. I wanted to be buried naked because I came into this earth naked and naked I wanted to go out. I wanted an open bar at my wake and a huge banner that said “this is a celebration bitches.” I wanted upbeat Southern Rock playing during the wake. Also, no one was allowed to wear black, mourn or cry at my funeral.

I made a serious mistake of thinking this event was about me. Luckily my wife and a few veteran Green Berets put me in my place. It was not about me, but all the friends, family and teammates that I would leave behind. It would be a chance for them to honor me, begin coping with the loss and move on with their lives as best they could.

Deciding to Join

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When I first started college in 2002 I wanted to go to OCS after graduation. However during this time, the 18 X-Ray program became popular. By signing an 18 X-Ray contract, I could guarantee myself a chance to go to Special Forces Selection . I would have to enlist rather than go to OCS and the chances of me earning the fabled Green Beret were about 10-15%. Despite these odds, the Special Forces appealed to me due to their specialization in un-conventional warfare. Green Berets are deployed in situations in which knowing the culture, customs and language of the people is just as, if not more important than the weapons you carry. When the Special Forces first started during WWII as the Office of Strategic Services, the ideal man they were looking for was a, “PhD. that can win a bar fight.”

After carefully thinking about which path to take, I decided that I wanted to be a Green Beret. I had read books, talked to numerous people, thought and prayed about it. The ability to be apart of an elite unit that emphasized intellectualism just as much as it emphasized tactics, appealed to me.

Once I had made the decision, my mind was made up and nothing could convince me otherwise.

On March 7, 2007 it was time for me to head to Infantry Basic Training. While I sat in the Albany International Airport, waiting for my flight to Atlanta, the gravity of the situation hit me.

What a Difference Two Years Makes

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For 55 minutes on September 25, 2011 I thought that each passing minute could be my last. In an instant everything changed, a promising life full off hope and optimism seemed like it would come to an end at a mere 27 years old. I thought that I would never see my wife, parents, brothers, or friends again. Then I realized that I would never have a family of my own and would never be able to right the wrongs of my past. 55 minutes was the amount of time that elapsed between getting shot and being on the operating table at a field hospital in NW Afghanistan. It was a transformative 55 minutes that has stayed with me since that fateful day.

Today marks two years since I was wounded and I still possess the same amazement that I am alive today as I did when I woke up from an induced coma in Germany three days after being shot. The road has been unbearable and heart wrenching at times, however, I have never forgotten the thoughts and feelings from those 55 minutes. The past two years have been shaped by those 55 minutes. What once seemed impossible two years ago is now my reality. My wife is pregnant with our first child (she is 5 days over due!), my health is improving daily and I am working towards my MBA at the MIT-Sloan School of Management. Every day is an amazing experience full of new opportunities and promise.