Ranger

Know a SEAL from a Night Stalker: a breakdown of US Special Operations units

While it could be said that every unit which falls under the “special ops” umbrella is comprised of operators who can move, shoot, and communicate with lethal efficiency, different units developed to address specialized challenges.

As the years wore on, and particularly since the onset of the Global War on Terrorism, lines may have blurred a bit between specialties in many cases, allowing various units to conduct similar operations. But, the specific nature of each continues to inform the internal culture of divisions that fall under the command of U.S. Special Operations Command (SOCOM), honoring their heritage as well as the prowess their service experience allots.

Many people who understand America’s special operations apparatus are usually most familiar with the elements of one of SOCOM’s subordinate commands, the Joint Special Operations Command, or JSOC. Officially, JSOC is tasked with studying special operations requirements and techniques in order to ensure the best methods of unit interoperability are employed, while fielding new equipment and conducting special operations exercises, training, and missions in the best interest of our nation. To be succinct, JSOC has the “best of the best.” It might help to think of them as America’s war-fighting All-Star team.

Units of JSOC include:

The Intelligence Support Activity, commonly called “The Activity”
The U.S. Air Force 24th Special Tactics Squadron
The U.S. Navy’s Naval Special Warfare Development Group (DEVGRU) or the recently popularized SEAL Team Six
The U.S. Army’s 75^th Ranger Regiment: Regimental Reconnaissance Company
The U.S. Army’s 1^st Special Forces Operational Detachment-Delta, commonly known as Delta Force

However, listing these names does little to clear up potential confusion, so allow me to elaborate briefly on three of these four units.

DEVGRU, SEAL Team 6, and whatever their current (and classified) operational title may be are all referring to the same group of elite Navy SEALs. Team 6 recruits from within, choosing only the best of the already elite Navy SEAL community. Delta is often compared to Seal Team 6 in terms of operational capabilities and grueling indoctrination and training, but differs from its sea-based brethren primarily in recruiting tactics: Delta operators may come from any branch, and are sometimes even former SEALs.

The Air Force’s 24^th Special Tactics Squadron (24^th STS) is perhaps the least recognized of the three, which may be because pararescuemen, combat controllers, and Tactical Air Control Parties deployed by the 24^th STS usually serve alongside DEVGRU or Delta teams, rather than fielding complete teams on their own. These airmen synchronize and control elements of air support or provide medical assistance to other special operators in the field.

Beyond the elite units housed within JSOC, SOCOM boasts a number of other special operations teams that may be best addressed by dividing them by their representative military branches.

United States Army Special Operations Command

Know a SEAL from a Night Stalker: a breakdown of US Special Ops units — (Photo: U.S. Department of Defense)

Special Forces (Green Berets)

The term “special forces” is often misattributed to any military personnel working within America’s special operations community. However, the phrase is actually specific to the Army’s elite group of soldiers who specialize in unconventional warfare, reconnaissance, internal foreign defense, anti-terror operations, and direct action combat. Green Berets are considered unique from other special operators for various reasons, most importantly being put to use in times of peace and conflict alike. Their motto, “De Oppresso Liber” translates to “Free the Oppressed.”

The 75^th Ranger Regiment

Like the Navy SEALs, a highly specialized company of Rangers falls under JSOC, but the rest of Ranger Battalion answers to the U.S. Army Special Operations Command. Rangers are specifically-selected soldiers who must first complete an eight-week long Ranger Assessment and Selection Program—which replaced the Ranger Indoctrination Program, or RIP, in 2010—before reaching their assignment within the regiment. Once there, they must complete the even more arduous Ranger School in order to earn their Ranger Tab.

The 160^th SOAR (Night Stalkers)

The U.S. Army’s Special Operations Regiment (SOAR) provides helicopter aviation support for special operations troops, often flying into extremely hostile territory to deliver and extract elite operators from combat zones. Aviators in the 160^th are among the most highly-trained pilots on the planet, and use the latest in new and modified military aircraft to complete missions often deemed too dangerous for many other aviation units. It was the 160^th that delivered JSOC operators to the compound in Pakistan on May 2^nd, 2011 to kill Osama Bin Laden.

Other units or personnel that fall under SOCOM include skilled civil affairs soldiers, military information support operators, sustainment soldiers, and the training cadre responsible for assessing, training, and educating the Army’s elite war-fighters.

United States Navy Special Warfare Command

SEALs

Navy SEALs are probably the most famous special operations unit in the world. Countless movies have depicted the heroism of SEALs, and even more books recount stories told by individuals who earned the coveted Trident. Unbeknownst to some, SEAL is an acronym that stands for Sea, Air, and Land—acknowledging the heart of the Navy SEALs’ role as a multi-purpose combat force. SEALs conduct operations in any situation or location, from clandestine reconnaissance to direct action missions.

Special Warfare Combatant-craft (SWCC) Crewmen and Enablers

SWCC Crewmen belong to Special Boat Teams often tasked with operating small surface craft for coastal operations and to support special operations missions. Primarily focused on aiding in the infiltration and exfiltration of SEAL teams, these Crewmen work where larger vessels cannot operate, providing close fire support and medical care to special operators on mission. Enablers, like the SWCC Crewmen, offer technical assistance to special operations personnel, including everything from cryptologic support to explosive ordnance disposal.

United States Air Force Special Operations Command

Special Tactics Airmen

Special Tactics Airmen offer a wide variety of operational capabilities derived through diverse areas of training and expertise. Combat controllers are certified air traffic controllers that infiltrate combat zones undetected to simultaneously conduct air traffic control and coordinate air support while also participating in direct action missions. Pararescuemen, or PJs, specialize in both conventional and unconventional recovery operations. The Special Operations Surgical Team offers a rapid deploying and lightweight medical element for trauma life support.

Special Operations Aviators

The men and women assigned to the Air Force’s Special Operations Aviators are considered some of the most exceptional pilots in the military. Flying in specialized aircraft, they conduct operations primarily under cover of darkness, and offer varying levels of support to special operations missions, including reconnaissance, infiltration and exfiltration, and command and control operations.

Marine Corps Forces Special Operations Command

Critical Skills Operators/Special Operations Officers

Marine Corps Forces Special Operations Command (MARSOC) recently reflagged with the historically-consistent moniker of Marine Raiders. They’re the latest addition to the SOCOM organizational structure. For much of the Marine Corps’ history, it operated without any formal association to SOCOM, instead establishing independent Force Recon units in a similar fashion while retaining organizational control. Since MARSOC entered the SOCOM fold, its operators conduct foreign internal defense operations, special reconnaissance, and direct action combat missions.

While this list offers a glimpse into the various facets of special operations units, it’s important to acknowledge that the nuanced differences in culture and conduct exhibited by operators within each can be difficult to quantify.

Each special operations group had to shed aspects of its parent branch in order to better integrate unique skill sets and capabilities with those offered by groups hailing from other branches. However, traditions and culture found within groups such as the SEALs or Marine Raiders remain intrinsically tied to their service birthplaces. There’s always been a fair amount of friendly competition between branches, but once a Soldier, Sailor, Marine, or Airman answers to SOCOM, they must work their way into the new combined culture of the service. SOCOM, in many ways, is an extraordinary beast all its own.

SOCOM operators come from all walks of life, and represent a variety of military occupational specialties established in each of the four branches of American service. Ultimately, these special operators are more than war-fighters: they’re diplomats, problem solvers, and instruments of foreign policy. Only by combining the best and brightest from America’s exceptional military infrastructure can they possibly accomplish so much.

The time my Special Forces team accidentally burned down a Korean forest (Pt.2)

Note: This is part of a series. Read part one here.

Dawn cracks in the Republic of Korea (ROK) and 10,000 roosters crow. My auditory senses are awakened. I stare at the olive drab of the tent canvas above my cot. Visual acquisition and, wait for it…wait for it…ah, there it is—olfactory perforation by rotton cabbage, coupled with burning rubber and feces. Gooooood morning, ROK!

My Green Beret A-team is housed all together in a cramped, general-purpose medium tent, one each. Most of us are sitting up now in our cots; swaddled in poncho liners, we blink at each other by the dawn’s early light. By now the click-clack-click of jungle boots on wooden pallet sidewalks indicates that morning chow is afoot. The wafting of green eggs and ham from the land of the big PX confirms that chow is indeed on, Sam I am.

In the chow tent, our “team sergeant,” Buck, tells us that we will have an opportunity to conduct some live fire and demolitions training on one of the Korean range fire facilities. This would be a good day. Something to do besides watch massive formations of Korean soldiers performing synchronized Tae Kwon Do katas, or work out with the Fred Flintstone weight sets that were ubiquitous in the ROK military. They were large, #10 soup cans filled with concrete on each end of a five-foot pole, and served as curl bars. You could really feel the burn around repetition 900.

We loaded a few vehicles with weapons and other kit, drove to the field-expedient ammunition supply point (ASP), and loaded a respectable consignment of blow to take to the demolitions range. As we loaded ourselves for departure on the short drive to the range, it appeared I would not get away without giving one more singing performance of the Korean national folksong “Arirang” to the new group of soldiers my buddy Sgt. Park had herded up to hear me sing. Damn me for ever learning it in the first place. I had become a measure of novelty to the Koreans, the round-eye who could sing Arirang. That or a circus freak of sorts.

“Let’er rip and lets get moving, Elvis!” someone called out. I cleared my throat and belted out the first verse of the folk song, which was followed by a token golf clap and appreciative nods. I felt like Side Show Bob as I mounted our Range Rover. Off then, to rock down to Electric Avenue and shake the Korean countryside.

Our first order of business was some demolitions training. We had, among other sundries in our load of blow, quite a stack of block C-4 “plastic” explosive, a high-explosive charge that expanded at a rate of 23,000 feet per second, and was regarded as a primary steel cutting charge. We had no steel, but plenty of timber in the form of deadfall and standing trees.

Of course, we all wanted to wad it up into one big ball and recreate the Big Bang, but Buck wouldn’t have any of that; the Buck stopped here. “Just treat these timbers as if they were steel pipes and cut ‘em, guys. Come on, let’s see some diamond and half-diamond charges and other cutters.” We split into two-man teams and assessed our surroundings with the greatest of creativity in mind.

Our company commander, who was still back in Fort Lewis, Washington, was unaffectionately nicked “Squeakers,” a titled he had earned during his tenure as our company executive officer (XO) for his propensity to report our many minor transgressions to the then-incumbent company commander. “He’s a rat, boys. He’s a rat and he bears watching,” Chief Richard R., our team warrant officer, warned.

I chose a diamond steel cylinder-cutting charge, which I molded from C-4 and wrapped around a fallen log. As I crimped my blasting cap around the time fuse, I couldn’t help but notice that one of our engineers, Mikey G. had created what to all the world looked like a human figure molded of C-4, and was plastering it to a tree trunk. “Hey, Mike…what kind of charge is that?” I puzzled.

“It’s Squeakers,” he said, “and now I’m going to prime him,” he continued as he inserted the blasting cap into what was discernibly the rectum of the figure.

Ka-RACK! went the Michael G. Squeakers timber-cutting charge in a shower of splinters and dark, pungent smoke. “Clean cut!” Mikey bragged. “Hell, that’s the most work Squeakers has done all year!”

We progressed finally to the known distance (KD) automatic weapons fire range down the access road, and proceeded to riddle impromptu targets with our team’s M-249 Squad Automatic Weapons (SAWs). As bad luck would have it, we soon ignited brush downrange with the tracer rounds from the SAWs. “Just let it burn, guys!” Buck urged. We obliged.

Before long, though, we had a formidable conflagration chomping at the bit, fueled by dry tinder and deadfall. “Cease fire!” Buck eventually called out. “We need to get this under control so we can keep training.” We pounced on the fire with shovels and what little water we had. We fell back soon, opting to dig a fire break to the burn’s front, to snuff it when it arrived.

There was the distinct snap, pop, whizzzzz of tracer rounds igniting and crisscrossing to our front. We decided to distance ourselves and let the spreading fire burn to the break. The blaze broke as planned, and smoldered slowly in the opposite direction for a spell. “Well, we’re done here for the day; let’s load up and head back to the FOB.”

Back at tent metropolis, we click-clacked our way to dine at the Canvas Cabana. “I’ll have an 11-ounce prime rib with horseradish sauce, pan-seared potatoes, and a sprinkle of kosher sea salt,” I announced matter of factly. Dr. Suess, the cook, didn’t bat an eye; he imparted a load of Spam, instant mashed potatoes, and instant IDK WTF onto my plate. With the deadest of deadpan expressions, he replied, “11-ounce prime rib with horseradish sauce, pan-seared potatoes, and a sprinkle of kosher sea salt…next!” This wasn’t the cook’s first day at smart-aleck remarks. You had to have a sense of humor. GBs are good at that.

“Hey you guys, you might want to come out here and see this,” one of the boys suggested from outside the mess tent.

Outside the tent, he chin-pointed toward an orange glow emanating from the location of the ranges. “OK, George, Guy, and Ed come with me; we’re going to have to take care of that fire ASAP,” Buck directed. As we bumped along the range road, we heard an unwelcome sound coming from the general direction of the range—BOOM. We looked at each other but said nothing. As we feared, the fire had erupted from smoldering ash that we caused earlier.

Once at the range, we were not prepared for what we saw. Korean troops to the tune of nearly 100 men had already been directed to respond to the range fire. As we stepped out of the truck, we saw a wounded Korean soldier parallel to the ground, face down, being carried by no less than 10 other soldiers, five on either side, each with their own little pinch of the stricken troop’s uniform, and they were trying to run. It was an absolute melee.

“Looks like a 203 round (40mm high-explosive tube-launched grenade) cooked off in the fire and bit one of them,” Buck assessed.

Screaming Korean soldiers massed around us. “OK, let’s get back in the vehicle right now, guys.” We pushed our way back to our truck, vaulted ourselves in, and locked the doors. ROK troops swarmed our vehicle and it began to rock. “Fuck this!” Ed shouted from the driver’s seat. He put the truck in gear and we parted the yellow sea en route back to the feeble defense of tent city.

“You guys pack your stuff and get ready to leave,” the freshly informed FOB commander told us. He was arranging for a C-141 Starlifter to fly us back to the States. Overreaction is the first thing that came to my mind, but then I didn’t know the extent of the afflicted Korean soldier’s injuries. Well, this stinks, I mused…but if you wanna dance, ya gotta pay in the ROK.

The next time the 10,000 roosters cried out and the reek of the atmosphere began to set in, we were still in tent city, waking to the click-clack of the boots on planks. Standing outside our tent waiting for the rest of the team to get out so we could go to breakfast together, we noticed a Korean soldier standing just outside the door of the nearest barracks. His left arm was generously bandaged and propped in a sling. His face was pockmarked with fresh scabs, and his head and left eye were also bandaged.

Our junior engineer, Abraham B., laughed and waved to him, pantomiming a person swatting at the flames of a fire, then suddenly jumping into the air as from an explosion. The Korean cracked a big grin, nodding vigorously, and mimed his own version of the previous night’s event. We gave him a thunderous round of applause peppered with enthusiastic “HOOAHs.”

“What’s for breakfast this morning, George?” Buck drawled. “Ah, today, Buck, there are Eggs Benedict with Hollandaise sauce, pan-fried hash-browned potatoes with capers and salsa, fresh-squeezed orange juice, coffee ground personally by Señor Juan Valdez, and sherbet—flavor of your choice. Just tell Dr. Seuss I sent you.”

And that my friends, you cannot make up.

Geo sends

The time my Special Forces team accidentally burned down a Korean forest (Pt.1)

I was a grunt, a ground-pounder, a door-kicker, a knuckle-dragger, a dog face, and a devil dog. I’ve been dogged-out and dog-tired, I’ve rucked until my dogs were barkin’ while it rained cats and dogs. I’ve had a dog in the fight, lived a dog’s life, gone to the dogs, been in the doghouse, and doggone it I’ve seen the tail wag the dog. I’ve seen a barking dog bite, dogged-shut a submarine escape hatch, had a dog as a best friend, ‘cause every dog has its day. I’ve experienced the dog days of summer, listened to Three Dog Night, and I’ve seen a dog that won’t hunt in this dog-eat-dog world. You feel me, dog?

When I was a regular Army grunt, I was in a mechanized infantry unit. The only time I ever had to carry a rucksack of any appreciable weight was in some of the professional development courses I attended in hopes of catching a timely promotion. Still, occasionally I found myself at a grassroots level of basic Army life, living in tin huts in the Rocky Mountains and living out of a rucksack for days on end. For a young soldier of my intellect and experience, it was a praiseworthy undertaking, but I would not know what a truly heavy ruck or long march was until I transitioned to the ranks of the Green Berets.

U.S. Army Rangers are the daddies of heavy rucksacks; there is no disputing that. Having a former 2/75 Ranger as a team sergeant ensured that we Green Beanies would never wander too far away from appropriate respect for the very pinnacle of light infantry—Army Rangers.

Our team sergeant was not even an average Ranger, but rather a cut-above Ranger who had fallen on tough luck with physical injury during tryouts for Delta selection in West Virginia. Ironically, Sergeant First Class (SFC) Mark B.—who just went by “Buck”—was not even technically our team sergeant. Buck was just an SFC—team sergeants were master sergeants (MSG). We had MSGs on our team who came and went, but we always regarded Buck as our de facto senior sergeant. He was the voice of common sense and authority. Once the MSG of the team had finished spewing edicts, all eyes would shift to Buck for the earthly version of what had just been said. We ultimately would do what Buck told us to do.

Most of my time overseas in my years with the First Special Forces Group (Airborne) was spent in the cold-weather months in the Republic of Korea (ROK)—land of the little PX, land of rotting cabbage and burning tires in winter, land of Reebok tennis shoes and women with flat buttocks, land of endless rice fields and animal manure, land of one-eye buffalo and Kiamaster trucks. It was the land of Soju, Maekju, Bulgogi, Pibimpap, and the KATUSA.

The flights

Deployments to Korea were cheap. As long as we conducted a tactical airborne drop in-country, the Air Force would regard it as training for them and not charge the Army for the use of their aircraft. That meant a 16-hour non-stop flight with multiple in-flight refuels, and in-flight rigging for the jump. An hour or so prior to a tactical drop, an aircraft will drop to a very low altitude and fly a nap of earth (NOE) profile. That is, it will fly at a fixed low altitude above the contour of the ground in an attempt to avoid being ‘painted’ by enemy radar, so the aircraft is in a perpetual state of rising and falling.

Just prior to an in-flight parachute rigging under an NOE profile, paratroopers are required to consume monstrous amounts of Twinkies and vinegar. I’m just kidding, but for those of you who have never experienced the trauma of this event, let me paint the picture: Ambient temperature inside the aircraft climbs to around 98° F. No room to sit turns into no room to stand. Projectile vomiting seems to become some sort of morbid competition. No room to stand turns into no room to set down your barf bag.

Men stumble and stagger in place as parachutes and rucksacks are passed at treetop level over the stacks of (jump) sticks. No room to lay your barf bag down turns into no room to think or change your mind. The deck of the aircraft becomes moderately slick with the accumulation of sweat beads, spilled stomach linings, and water as men try to drink to stave off heat exhaustion. The temperature nudges up to around 105°. A slow death awaits the fool who suddenly realizes he has to pee. God spare the jumpmasters who have to inspect this load of paratroopers. Don’t bother declaring jump refusal; any of those would be sucked out of the belly of this beast when the green light illuminates.

Finally, you are doing that awkward quick-step waddle and falling head-first out the jump door. Once under canopy, the broad Nakdong Gang river becomes horrifyingly apparent. Water wing flotation devices were worn by us all due to the prominence of the expansive Nakdong Gang “water obstacle.” The distinct essence of an amalgam of feces and burning rubber wafts by. “My God, is that dinner cooking or a garage burning?” comes to mind. “Which rice paddy shall I land in?” comes as well.

We get a ride from this rice paddy to our forward operating base (FOB). At least it isn’t a forced ruck march with everything we own. FOBs were typically tent cities on the parade fields of Korean special forces (Tuk Su Bu Dae) compounds. The personnel activity associated with a tent city will immediately render the ground muddy. I don’t care if you are in the Gobi Desert, a tent city will produce a mud hole. The more affluent tent cities will have floors of wooden pallets in the tents, as well as along the walkways that connect the network of tents. It actually can become bearable in such a place.

On one rare occasion, the Korean special forces troops vacated their entire open-bay team room to allow us to stay indoors, while they subjected themselves to life in the tent city. That was a commander’s decision, not the enlisted men’s choice. As Green Berets, we understood the importance of establishing rapport. We would not be winning over any friends this way. We would have to affect the rapport thing some other way.

Playing catch with a football was one way. Have you ever seen a Korean person try to throw a football? It simply can’t be done. They would watch us, mesmerized as we sent the ol’ pigskin whizzing through the air, stable and spinning like a bullet. They tried and tried to throw it; we tried and tried to teach them. We would eventually use this technique to root out North Korean spies trying to infiltrate our lines: “OK, Mister…John Smith, is it? Take this football and hit me, I’m going long!”

The food of Korea

Our commander, being the skinflint that he was, recognized the frugality of these deployments, and furthermore the tranquility of sending us a few weeks early to Korea to live in tent cities and eat for free in the Korean military institutes of culinary grandeur. There was no cognitive separation between the three daily meals: It was rotten cabbage, rotten turnips, and rotten something else, washed down with “barley tea,” which was essentially tepid water with some dirt in it to give it that barley flavor.

“There sure isn’t an abundance of meat around here,” Buck observed one day.

“Yes, it will be great when HQ gets here and we can finally have MREs (military field rations),” another chimed in.

On one particular afternoon, walking back to the tent city from Bob’s Big Boy of Korea, our senior medic shouted to a couple of Korean soldiers cutting across the chow hall lawn, “Hey, stop walking across our dinner!” It paid to have a sense of humor. GBs are good at that.

The language of Korea

Green Berets are all required to be qualified in at least one foreign language by the Department of the Army’s Defense Language Institute in Monterey, California. I was qualified in six, none of which were Korean. In fact, none of the men on my team spoke Korean. Riddle me that, Joker! Still, I scrambled to pick up as much as I could.

My senior communications sergeant, Guy L., and I decided to go for a run to the back gate of the compound and back one evening. As we approached the gate, the two Korean guards exited the guard shack and stood at port arms facing us. “Here goes…,” I prepped. “An yong ha, shimnika?” I politely greeted.

“How do you dooo?” a guard replied. As we turned away and continued on our path, Guy pondered out loud, “I wonder if we sound as retarded to them trying to speaking Korean as they do to us trying to speaking English. How do you do…who the fuck even says that anymore?”

Another quip before I curtail: I was entering the compound one night with a brother GB. As we approached the Korean guard post, I fished my ID card from my breast pocket, ready to present, wondering why my bud was not doing the same. Within easy earshot, my bud gestured a lazy salute and proudly announced, “Cheap thrill,” and continued walking without pause. The guards chin-dipped to bid us entry. Out of earshot, I asked him, “What the hell was that? What was that all about…cheap thrill?”

He replied, “Oh, they know me. Cheap thrill is my badge number.”

“How so? What is your badge number?”

“Seventeen,” he replied.

I mentally counted up from zero to 17 in my head in Korean, and 17 is pronounced, “Sheep chill.”

And this, my friends, you cannot make up!

Geo sends.

‘Murphy’s Law’ — Covering the war against ISIS alongside the Peshmerga

An excerpt from the new book, “Murphy’s Law: My Journey from Ranger and Green Beret to Investigative Journalist“

Another story developed when a fixer we had hired to help translate informed us that there was a big battle going down early the next morning near Kirkuk. No way were we going to pass that up. We left around four a.m. the next morning.

“Just keep driving until you get to the Daesh,” the Peshmerga checkpoint guard said. I was trying to get to the front line to follow along with the Kurdish offensive outside Kirkuk on September 11. Can’t really blame the guard for his concise instructions. As our car approached the front, we saw dozens of up-armored Humvees and pickup trucks. Peshmerga fighters stood around waiting for their orders, talking and smoking cigarettes. As I got out of the car and began walking down the road, a group of Kurdish journalists looked at me and began waving their hands, saying, “No good, no good!”

The puffs of smoke from either IEDs or mortar rounds rose into the air in the distance. Before even getting to the berm lines, I ran into a group of foreigners who had joined up with the 9th Brigade. They all wore MultiCam and balaclavas to conceal their identity. As I was soon to find out, one of them had already had his rifle confiscated because he was taking potshots at the Pesh, mistaking them for ISIS.

It was now about six a.m. The sun had not fully risen and burned off the cloudy haze that engulfed the battlefield. The Peshmerga’s mission today was to liberate a series of villages on the outskirts of Kirkuk, pushing ISIS farther away from the city. What I had come upon was a fighting column, firing on a Daesh village called Zanghar with machine guns and tanks, while hundreds of vehicles were stacked up, ready to roll forward.

For fans of the New York Times bestsellers “The Last Punisher” and “Lone Survivor,” a heart-pounding military memoir from a former Army Ranger sniper and Special Operations weapon sergeant-turned-journalist about the incredible highs and devastating lows of his career.

Growing up in small New York towns, Jack Murphy knew he wanted to lead a life far from the ordinary – a life of adventure and valor. After the 9/11 attacks, he immediately enlisted in the Army, knowing this was his chance to live the life he desired and fight for a cause he staunchly supported. After making it through the rigorous Ranger Indoctrination Program, he graduated sniper school and was promptly deployed to Afghanistan, where his experiences went from ordinary to extraordinary.

In this gripping military memoir, Murphy recounts the multiple missions he underwent as a Ranger, a Special Forces weapons sergeant, and ultimately, a boots-on-the-ground journalist. From enemy ambushes, dodging explosives, crashing terrorists’ weddings, and landing helicopters in the streets of Mosul, Jack provides a hard-hitting glimpse of what combat is like in some of the world’s most dangerous, war-torn places. With tours of duty in two of the most decorated units of the armed forces, Murphy brings a unique perspective to the military genre as he reflects on his great triumphs and shattering failures both on and off the battlefield.

Later, Murphy turned his attention to breaking news within the military. His stories have taken him from Iraq to Switzerland, from Syria to South Korea. From crossing Middle Eastern borders in the dead of night, to rolling into an IED-laden zone, Murphy’s stories are always a thrill a minute.

“Murphy’s Law” tells a story of intense bravery and sacrifice – both on and off the battlefield. Get it today as a hardcover, ebook, or audio book.

Precision rifle zeroing | Basics done right by Ranger sniper team leader

I’ve seen some pretty talented shooters making the same basic mistakes at the range. Over and over again, I see (and have fallen victim to) brain farts that should elude all but the most basic shooter. Screws that weren’t properly torqued coming loose in scope rings, spending far too long (and too many rounds) trying to zero, or just failing to have adequately prepared for the range day.

Former Ranger sniper team leader, owner of RocketFFL.com, MaydaySafety.com and best-selling author of “Long Range Shooting Handbook” Ryan Cleckner is renowned for his ability to impart complex shooting knowledge in easily digestible chunks. His youtube videos produced with the National Shooting Sports Foundation (NSSF) are extremely informative and offer a number of insights and shooting hacks. In the below video, Ryan walks us through a live range session while zeroing a precision rifle. Simple topic, lots of expensive wisdom being sent your way. Long video, worth the watch.

–Rex Nanorum

Self Reliance & Preparedness | Precious Metals and The ‘End of The World’

Having an interest in history, I’ve been doing a good bit of reading on financial systems dating back to the Old Testament times (7th century BC) as well as more modern societies prior to fiat currencies (fiats are currencies declared by a Government to be valued at a certain amount but are not backed by any physical commodity). These include the Vikings (first known coins 995 A.D), ancient Romans (500 B.C), and ancient Chinese empire (770 B.C). The vast majority of currency in history has been based on the use of precious metals (PM) as an intermediate currency. The reasons are fairly simple:

Coinage is durable. There are still coins in existence from the above mentioned cultures. Even if a coin has a lifespan of no more than 100 years in circulation before needing to be re-minted, the precious metal it is made of still holds value. Chickens die, food spoils and guns rust. Gold doesn’t.
Fiat currencies fail. All fiat money is based on a governmental guarantee that your cash is worth something. It isn’t backed by gold, nor is it redeemable. When a government fails, all of that currency is paper. Look at Soviet Russia in the period of 1918-1921: hyperinflation ruined the ruble and it failed as a method of storing wealth. A mountain of those rubles would be worth whatever a mountain of toilet paper and firestarters is worth.

So I’d like to take a look at PM’s regarding “the end of the world as we know it” (TEOTWAWKI) from a few different angles. I am not advocating PM’s as a sole method of storing value. Prepping is about insurance: the more things you’re prepared for, the more likely when one of them befalls, you will be equipped to handle it. I’ll tackle such arguments as “you can’t eat gold” later.

Before The Fall

You run into two major theories here, both with historical precedent. Either you have a slow decline leading to spiraling hyperinflation before the whole mess crashes, or you have a major event that sends a massive number of people into the bronze age. (Note: I’m intentionally disregarding regional disasters such as major earthquakes or hurricanes. Those don’t directly cause currencies to fail, nor do they change PM’s value as a barter item.)

With a slow decline, your currency becomes less valuable by the month, day or hour (in extreme historical circumstance). PM’s purchased before the decline gain value in direct opposition to the failing currency. When we say the value of PM’s are up or down, we’re really saying the inverse: the dollar is down or up. The value of PM’s relative to the American dollar isn’t the same as the value of PM’s relative to the Yen or Euro. Notice when a country has financial troubles “we buy gold” signs pop up everywhere?

With a cataclysmic and rapid departure from the world we know, the likelihood of using your old currency to buy what you need is low. How much cash do you have in your pocket right now? Don’t count on using your ATM card when there is no internet. Silver and Gold have been treated as valuable since before the Roman empire was an itch in southern Europe’s skinny jeans.

During The Dark Times

Bad times are here. Maybe one country has fallen to accident, war or disaster. If it’s a superpower, the rest of the world will be feeling the crunch financially. In this scenario, the rough days could number in the years before a semblance of civility is restored nationwide and a new government is implemented. Humanitarian aid and multinational involvement would be likely if war is not a factor. PM’s are valuable in other countries right now, that wouldn’t change if they’re still up and running. A fistful of benjamins would be worth a fistful of nose blows. Food is something you will (shockingly) need to survive. Probably don’t want to trade much of that away… Ammo has uses defensive, offensive and for sustainability. That’s good for trading IF you really don’t need it. Ostensibly, nearly every item with barter value is directly related to survival.

A Brave New World

Take a look around the world today. Do you see any nations or regions that were thriving recently and now resemble a terrible Mad Max reality? Nope. Even with a full global meltdown, anything short of an extinction event will leave behind a significant number of people. Wherever there have been humans, there is a tendency towards grouping, commerce and mutual reliance. Don’t expect some long-running Book of Eli business. Even if that were to be a reality, there are a mass number of variables, too many to account for. A sharp brain and strong body are always valuable assets. If you’re looking past the big slump in the middle, what’s the plan for securing wealth now that will stay valuable until then?

I’m no definitive expert on this matter. This article is not the be-all-end-all conversation that will zip up every internet thread regarding PM’s. I am someone who has been in a country where the local fiat currency was nearly worthless. I have also been to a few countries where I exchanged for some of the local currency and now that currency no longer exists as legal tender. Frame it as a memento or give it to the kids to play with. It has no intrinsic value.

You Can’t Eat Gold

Now I’d like to give my take on some of the common arguments against having PM’s as one part of the prepping plan. I’m emphasizing that PM’s should be considered only one part of the solution because number one on the most heard arguments against PM’s is

“You can’t eat gold”. Right. I don’t want to eat gold. I want to eat food. I don’t want to trade away my food. I can’t eat bullets, but I can use them. I don’t want to get rid of those either. The main point of using currency/PM’s is to be able to store value when you’re not engaging in commerce or have no direct trade options. You have a lot of one item but are going hungry. You would like to acquire some of my many chickens. I have no need for that item you have many of, nor for an IOU. PM’s have been used widely though the last 9000 years of human history. Even if there is a system of commerce based on trade of goods and labor, do you think there won’t be even one person who thinks PM’s will be worth a trade?
“What are you gonna do, carry 30 lbs of silver around?” Nope. No more likely than carrying 4 extra guns to trade or herding a dozen chickens around in a nomadic lifestyle. A single .1 ounce gold coin is roughly the same weight at a penny (2.8 grams), yet worth about $121 bucks today. A 1 ounce gold coin is about the same weight as a pair of JFK $.50 pieces, yet worth about $1600 right now.
“Gold and silver aren’t valuable because they’re just shiny metals”. Thousand of years of human history would beg to differ. Even if you take out all space age and industrial uses, silver and gold are still essential in medical and dental uses.

In closing, I agree with the naysayers that “PM’s are only valuable only when we all agree they are. 9000 years of recorded human history says that someone will invariably think that they are, or will be, valuable still. PM’s do not replace beans, bullets or survival equipment. They sure don’t replace knowledge and skills. Precious metals give you a way to store wealth and a way to barter a nonessential item that can be easily transported and hidden.