That was a good story. Self analysis is the key to winning .. next time, if there is a next time.
The Australian Army Commando units in the 80's where small, very small, and starved of funds and opportunities but we didn't care. The thing was to pass selection and training (an advanced form of selection) and get the Green Beret, or the Green Hat, or just 'The Hat' as we called it.
The first weekend was selection; basically to get 105 applicants down to the platoon of 30 that the unit wanted to start training. We did PT, logs, rope climbs, man carries, runs, more, and then all over again and again until the DS got the numbers they wanted. All through the weekend a precession of people walked or limped out the Gate. I remember that was all I focussed on was .. The Hat, which was at least a year away, regardless of what ever was coming in the next 10 minutes. One hill climb up a track called 'the pipeline' was a blank in my mind, all I remember was starting it and the next thing I was doing situps on the oval on top of the hill about half an hour later. Whatever happened, it did not involve the Gate.
I passed selection and started training. Thanks to a smashed up ankle I watched the rest of my course get their Green Beret while I was on the side lines on crutches with an ankle full of bolts and plates, and working in the office with bits of paper. I didn't care. When the next course started, I told our CO that I would be able to do everything except run, and he said 'Do it'. He was an SAS guy and his attitude was that crawling over the line with no fingernails or toenails left was better than not starting.
That wasn't quite correct about the runs, I did the 15Km within 90 minutes with gear run, with the bolted up ankle anyway. As always, nothing mattered except - The Hat.
Eventually the bolts came out, the surgeon said it was the best repair job he had seen and I had obviously been doing some exercise. I didn't tell him exactly what that had been.
After a total of two long years from Day One, I got that Green Beret one cold night on our Parade Ground under the yellow sodium vapour lights with the rain streaking down. And that was just what I was after.
I agree about the SF brain wiring being different to that of others, including Infantry. Infantry dudes may not mind being cold, wet, starved, dehydrated, and exhausted if they think it proves a point. SF guys in the same boat do it because they see that it's good practise for the day/night when it's real. We also have more of a big picture look.
The unit's emphasis from Day One was - never stop and never give up, and they selected and trained accordingly. If the shit hit the fan in the real deal then you would have been a long way from support in a small group, and only one type of person gets the job done. The advantage to us being that the enemy would give up or slacken off first.
Funny stuff that illustrates a point:
I remember one exercise we were on early in the training phase, alongside an existing Green Hat platoon and some 'others'. Field rations at a stop were packaged food and prefabricated coffee - a coffee/sugar/milk block stuck to the bottom of the paper cup - add water and there it is
Living like Kings.
A voice comes up.. 'what do you do if there's no water ?'.. One of our guys said ' Yeah, just break the bottom out of the cup and eat it like a biscuit.' One of the Green Hats said 'Mate, you'll do just fine here
'
Another time we had a night ocean water ops exercise with our Zodiac GR3 inflatables that involved rafting four together and holding a position at sea for an hour until time 'H'. No wind, a current that needed a 1 knot headway in a choppy sea, everything is moving chaotically with the 1 meter waves, there is no horizon, no visibility, and we were in our own cloud of petrol and exhaust fumes, all which of course were the perfect conditions for sea sickness and lots of it. Vomit ruled. The fish were almost jumping into the Zodies to get a head start on their mates. I think none of the professional fishing boats further out caught a thing that night thanks to our contribution.
In all this, we had somehow acquired three RAAF Airfield Defense Guards, the RAAF 'Infantry', who had come along for the ride, who instead were now curled up in foetal positions, laying in the oily vomity water sloshing around the bottom, and drooling over the side. They had given up on doing their jobs, their weapons were just laying in all the filth, while in front of another Service. This was all new, they had no control, and they had nothing left. One asked what we would do if they got really sick. One of our guys replied slowly that we would ' just watch', prompting another dry retch ...
Between feeding the fish, watching fish jumping out of the water, listening to the RAAF blubbering in the background, and taking bearings on a shore light which was my job, my only thought was that I was glad to be with people who thought that all this was normal and who would never stop or give up.
An hour later we got wrecked in the surf doing a pickup, trashed the Zodie, and the next night almost got run over by a non-deconflicting RAN destroyer. We thought that was normal too (although interesting).
My advice for the SF applicant ? Eat and eat again, and good stuff only. Keep the carbs pouring in because you'll need each one. Drink - stay hydrated. Upper body strength. And lower body strength. Just think about the badge or beret at the end of it, nothing else, it's the passport to a great life. Your girlfriend's big warm olive-oil covered tits do not matter. Mates are good but remember the fact that most of the people you know now will not be with you in your SF unit, doing SF work, in a couple of years time, and the people you will be with then, and you, will be very different to those around you now.
Ponder fully that 'who you are' and 'what you do' are two very separate things.
I just wish I was doing this now. Joining in say, 1997 would have been the dream number, barring misfortune.
I copied this below from another page - its not mine, but it says everything and it is truly beautiful. Keep it to heart:
Somewhere a True Believer is training to kill you. He is training with minimal food or water, in austere conditions, training day and night. The only thing clean on him is his weapon and he made his web gear. He doesn't worry about what workout to do - his ruck weighs what it weighs, his runs end when the enemy stops chasing him. This True Believer is not concerned about 'how hard it is;' he knows either he wins or dies. He doesn't go home at 17:00, he is home.
He knows only The Cause. Still want to quit?
The End.