veteran

The warrior’s dilemma: My biggest parenting challenge has been renegotiating my relationship with death

On Thanksgiving Day this past November, something incredible happened: my wife gave birth to my beloved baby girl. It had been a long road, much longer than 9 months, and far more difficult a journey than most people realize. The birth of my daughter was more than a momentous occasion for my wife and I, it was something that we had both grown to fear would never happen at all.

We had decided to have a child while I was still on active duty, and after months of trying the good old fashioned way, we finally relented to testing. The process, I’ll readily admit, is a lot easier for the man — since it basically boils down to romancing yourself into a cup and moving on with your life. For a woman, it’s far more arduous. Strangers with strange devices rummaging around the parts of you no one wants to have them. Laying around in MRI machines while doctors inject easy to track dyes to peer into the internal workings of your plumbing. It goes on.

Worst of all for both of us, however, was the guilt. We each stewed quietly, too afraid to bring up the laundry list of reasons why we each felt that our predicament was our own fault.

I’ve done some pretty bad things. Maybe I just don’t deserve to be a father.

Those musings hurt twice over: first because of the shame over what you’ve done to your spouse (“she should leave me so she can be a mom”) and again when you think about your own wish to be a parent. Of course, little did I realize, she was going through her own laundry list of lifetime transgressions – making all the same decisions about her own fault, her own unworthiness, secretly scared that her husband would leave her in search of a more fertile pasture to start his family. Despite having the sort of relationship where we talk about everything, we never talked about these fears. They were too frightening, too real.

Now, in hindsight, I can honestly say that I think my daughter’s delayed arrival did happen for a reason. Had she been born while I was on active duty, my medical retirement would have been much more difficult and I likely wouldn’t have gone back to school. Had she been born while I worked in HR. I probably would have finished my MBA instead of changing majors and you’d find me, miserable as ever, inside my office near the production floor of a defense contractor. If she’d been born during my first year as a writer, none of us could have afforded to eat.

Instead, she was born on the most fitting of holidays: Thanksgiving of the same year that I became a senior staff writer for a website I once followed on Facebook and thought to myself, “one day… I hope I’m doing stuff like that.” I’m living a winning lottery ticket, and I thank my lucky stars every day. I’ve had a lot of jobs, but now I have the two best ones in the world: being a dad, and being a writer.

I’ve never understood the urge parents have to instill fear in expecting mothers and fathers. Everyone warns you, over and over, about the difficulties of parenting. By the time my daughter was born, I had gotten the “you’ll never sleep again,” “you’ll never have sex again,” “you’ll never have money again,” speeches from just about every person I knew that had ever become a parent. People love to tell you that they love their kids, but if you ask them about parenting, they act like it’s a prison sentence and they’re trying to scare you straight. It doesn’t get better once the baby is born either — every stage your kid enters is “the last good one” before the real horror begins. Teething, potty training, bedtimes. All future skirmishes parents are happy to tell you that you’ll suffer heavy losses in.

It’s all bullshit. Yeah, you sleep less. Yeah, you can’t go drop pills at the club on a Tuesday night or whatever the hell it is most parents seem so upset about missing out on. Instead, you get to hang out a little person that, I shit you not, will occupy your every waking thought, fill you with happiness and excitement, and give you a greater sense of purpose than anything I’ve ever experienced.

That doesn’t seem so bad to me. To be honest, I never slept much to begin with.

After 9 months of well-intentioned warnings about how hard and exhausting and miserable being a parent is (and to be fair, there are times when it genuinely is the first two), you finally bring your baby home and suddenly realize… it’s just you guys and this baby. You’re a team facing the challenge of growing up together. Some parts will be tough, some parts will be great, but to be honest — my best experiences, the ones that truly shaped who I am, weren’t the fun-filled and easy going days at Six Flags. They were the times I was with a team, facing challenges and taking the days as they came: the good and the bad. Now I have my own three-person fire team, and we’re taking on the world in just the same way.

But there is one thing I was never warned about — one struggle of parenting that I’m not sure if I share with others. I was ready for the sleepless nights. I was ready for the anxiety of her getting her first cold, and the fussy misery that is teething. What I wasn’t ready for, however, was the realization that having a baby means renegotiating my relationship with death.

I’ve lived the better part of my life with an understanding that death’s looming presence was always nearby. According to a marriage counselor we visited for a while, my pursuit of dangerous situations and hobbies was born out of self-hatred. He and his degrees figured me for a masochist — I assume because he had never pushed himself to the edge, just to peer over and see what lies beyond. He’d never pushed through broken bones, broken hearts, and broken spirits to finish something for the sake of a team. He had never had the opportunity to learn the joy of self-sacrifice; when something great gets accomplished and you know you had a hand in it.

There’s a freedom that comes with knowing you might get hurt or killed and accepting that risk. Whether you’re in a fire fight or climbing a tree to rescue a kitten, you recognize that you could get hurt, you weigh the cost, and then you push forward — knowing that what you’re setting out to do is more important than what you are. I’m going to climb that mountain, I’m going to take that hill, I’m going to fight until the fight is all there is left of me.

But not anymore.

Although I’m old enough to have been a village elder in another era, I’m not so old that there isn’t any fight left in me. I get up each morning and watch the news while I check messages from sources and colleagues – giving me two different accounts of the same flames that seem to be engulfing so much of our world. It’s good for business, of course — if the world stopped burning, there’d be less to write about — but it reminds me of all the battles being fought out there, all the mountains left unclimbed, all the tough days going by without anyone there to experience them.

Now, when I think of risk, it’s only about ways to mitigate it. Now, when I think about death, it’s not in the same sense as before. The presence of death around me used to make me feel more alive by comparison, gave what I was doing an air of importance. Now, for the first time in my life, I’m scared of it.

Not because I don’t know what comes next for me, but because I’m so afraid of leaving my little girl without a dad.

Ideas still pop up: fights that are worth fighting, risks that are worth taking and for a fleeting moment, I get that old feeling again — purpose mixed with excitement — but then I remember the beautiful smiling face of my daughter. I sigh, shrug, and tuck the idea away.

I’ve lost too many friends to be afraid of dying. If there’s any afterlife waiting for me, regardless of how I’m judged, there are sure to be some familiar faces — but without me, my wife has to face the challenges and the joys of parenting alone. Without me, my daughter has to face the adventure, the excitement, and the heartbreak of growing up without her dad.

And I’d miss it too.

I don’t miss sleep. I don’t miss going to the movies. I don’t miss spending more time with friends or not worrying about when it’s time to refill the humidifier in her nursery. These are the changes in me I not only saw coming, but I longed for.

The only thing I do miss, if I’m being honest, is that presence of death. Reminding me that I come from a long line of warriors that valued accomplishment over self. Our society was built on the backs of men and women that were willing to give all they had to a cause, and now I’m not one of them anymore. It’s easy to go looking for a good death. It’s a lot harder, I’ve found, to resign yourself to the long haul… but it’s worth it.

Because I want to see my little girl grow up into an incredible woman. I want to hold my wife’s hand and choke back tears on her wedding day. I want to hold her baby in my arms, knowing that she too will have to recognize that a torch, burning with our warrior spirit, has now been passed to a new generation.

And I have no doubt that they’ll make us proud.

Images courtesy of the author

Editor’s Note: This piece was first published on April 12, 2018 on NEWSREP

The Streamlight TLR-6: Increase lethality of compact and sub-compact handguns

Streamlight is one of two companies I trust with my weapon lights. The TLR 1 is my home defense companion on my handgun, and now the Streamlight TLR 6 is riding tight on my SIG P365. The P365 has become my EDC gun and the addition of a light and laser truly makes it a gun you can carry and use 365 days of the year. The P365 has a proprietary rail, but the TLR 6 does not use the rail, it’s an after thought.

To attach the light around the gun you have to take it apart with the included Allen key. It splits in half and then wraps around the rail, and the trigger guard. You then tighten the light down and get it rocking and rolling. It sounds complicated, but it takes about 3 minutes if you drink a soda. It’s very easy overall.

Rocking and Rolling with the Streamlight TLR 6

The TLR 6 has a small, easy access button on the side of the unit. A simple press by the trigger finger gets everything running. This is an ambidextrous system and it allows control the system very easily. The button is large and easy to press. It’s silent, but it is tactile and allows you to feel the click.

The light has several different modes believe it or not, more than I predicted for such a small unit. The Streamlight TLR 6 has 3 total modes, not including the off mode. The first is light and laser where the light and laser are simultaneously turned on. The next mode is light only, and the third mode is laser only.

The Streamlight TLR-6: Increase lethality of compact and sub-compact handguns

To change the modes all you need to do is hold one button inward and then press the other. This allows you to click through the different modes quickly and easily. Whichever mode you choose will be the set mode. If you turn the TLR 6 off it will remember the mode you set.

The Light

The Light packs a pleasant 100 lumens and it’s plenty bright and capable for concealed carry use. The 100 lumen light casts a wide beam that does fill your vision. It’s more spotlight than torch. The light can easily travel across a large room, and Streamlight claims an 89 meter range. That seems optimistic, but for what it’s designed for it shines brightly and clearly.

The Laser

The laser is a bright red beam. It’s crystal clear and even in the middle of the day the light cna be seen out to 15 yards. In low light situations the light will be super fast and very easy to see. Adjusting and getting the laser on target requires some minor adjustments with a super small Allen key, and its incredibly easy overall.

The System

The system overall is fantastic. The light and laser work together beautifully, especially when you consider how small the overall system is. There also lots of holsters out there already for the combination of the TLR 6 and P365, specifically from Crossbreed in both OWB and IWB configurations. The TLR 6 is so well known that there are plenty of holster makers chasing it down.

The TLR 6 comes in different configurations for different guns, so its not universally compatible. There is a universal kit that will fit several different guns, but guns like the P365 requires their own special model. The TLR 6 is compatible with the G42, G43, G48, G43X, The KAHR Arms guns, the SIG P238, the Bbay Glocks, and some of the Springfield XD series. As a note they will not work with the Poly 80 lower Glocks.

The TLR 6 is an awesome light and laser combination and is an outstanding concealed carry choice. It gives you a light and laser in a superbly small system that does not compromise your ability to easily conceal and comfortably carry your gun.

You can find more great articles like this on The Gear Bunker

Important tips on transitioning from military to civilian life from a Navy SEAL

I lost everything I owned three years after leaving the Navy, including my marriage. Then I picked myself up, dusted off, and built a new life outside of my service. It was a tough, lonely, and sometimes scary, road. As we are experiencing one of the largest migrations of combat veterans to civilian life since World War II, it is my goal to share my own transition experience with the hope I can make it a bit easier for others by learning from my mistakes.

It’s tough going from a predictable routine, and group of people you can trust to an unscripted life on the outside. It must be similar to being in prison for ten years and getting out with no routine and in a strange world. For me, it was hard because when I left the Navy and the SEAL community, I had just made chief petty officer and many were resentful that I was leaving mid-career. They saw my leaving as wasting an E7 billet. There were more than a few rumbling voices at command. But, I’ve always had a strong opinion about doing 110% of something straight to the end, and if that meant putting my all into the job and getting promoted early, only to leave it all behind, then so be it.

I didn’t get too much support when I left, outside of my immediate family. Many veterans do not and that’s unfortunate because I think a lot of vets end up drifting off into bad places because there’s a genuine lack of community outside the military once you leave. If you’re thinking of the known veteran groups, most just aren’t relevant to the modern vet in transition. I keep hearing about the “Brotherhood,” but it really exists in a small part at the unit level only. It is heavily glamorized in film, TV and social media — mostly by those who never served or worse, veterans who can’t leave their career behind and are clinging to some false narrative.

I’ll summarize my story as quickly as possible below, and then get on to the top ten transition tips I think will be most helpful to my fellow veterans.

My Story

I left the Navy in the summer of 2006 just after my youngest son was born. I extended to make sure we had good healthcare in place. Aside from paying for college, another huge benefit to serving is the healthcare is really good. You’ll not have the same healthcare on the outside but I’ll get to that later. My plan was to do overseas contracting for a year and to start a business on the side. My best friend, Glen Doherty, recruited me to a special program and I was approved for deployment during my paid leave in the military and already had my first deployment date to Iraq.

I did several deployments over the first year and a half which allowed me to save enough money to support my family. I enrolled in school to take several business courses and started writing my first business plan for a racetrack facility with government training. We spent a year just looking for land and eventually found a nice parcel. After we got the project approved through the local government, the economy completely collapsed under the mortgage loan crisis. (Watch “The Big Short,” a great movie that explains what happened.) Our funding dried up, and to make matters worse, an environmental group sued the county over the environmental report, and the project was dead. Welcome to development in the People’s Republic of California.

Then, just to make things more interesting, my marriage ended. We tried to work on things but realized we’d be better off apart and thankfully, have developed a deep connection and friendship for our kids’ sake. I’ll write more on this later because if you have children, it’s worth making the investment and sacrifice to maintain a good relationship with your co-parent. And contrary to many stories I’ve heard, divorce can have a positive outcome. So there I was, no business, no money (in fact, I was in debt), and no family. I went from being an involved dad to one who saw his kids on the weekends. It was rough but, one of the greatest gifts I took from working as a sniper instructor was the time I spent with some of the best and brightest with a positive mental outlook. This saved me a lot of pain, and it was an extremely humbling experience all-around. I cried many nights alone as a 30-something who went from the top of my career as a Navy SEAL to losing it all on the outside.

I ended up taking a few odd jobs, then landed at an amazing division of L-3 Communications in San Diego. I had incredible co-workers and an amazing woman boss, and they trained me up as a business development executive. I did this for about two years as I was starting to write and blog on the side.

Shortly after taking the job, I submitted a book proposal to publishers in New York. Everyone turned the book down except one editor, Marc Resnic at St. Martin’s Press, who liked my story. The book would go on to sell well and it made the New York Times bestseller list. At the time it sold, there was very little in the market in the form of Navy SEAL books and nobody really knew about the SEAL Teams or cared. This has obviously changed. In fact, there are more SEAL books than I can count these days.

Since then, I’ve built a business around blogs, podcasts and e-commerce. It’s had ups and downs like every business but continues to this day, seven years later. I’ve also had the privilege of being appointed to the U.S. Small Business Administration’s Veterans Advisory Board. This was a great experience and really opened my eyes to the things the SBA could, and should, be doing for veterans.

So, that’s the short version. Now for some advice.

Top transition tips

Have a plan

A plan gives you purpose, and trust me, you’re going to need it to be your North Star. This helped me tremendously and pulled me through some dark times.

Education

If you have the GI Bill, going back to school can be a great cushion transitioning back to civilian life and helping with the integration. The housing allowance given is more than enough to rent a nice place and cover living expenses.

Get a job

There’s nothing stopping you from interviewing for jobs on the outside before you separate. I had my first civilian paycheck before my military pay ran out and this is a comforting thing. The defense industry is a great place to start, because you’ll be incredibly relevant to most these companies and they pay well. There are also a lot of non-profits that have partnered with big industry to place veterans. This is a good place to look and Google is your friend.

Clean up your social media

Most companies will check your social media accounts whether you know it or not. They will also monitor your social media while you’re an active employee to make sure you’re not posting inappropriate content that is out of alignment with company values. I’ve experienced this first-hand. We gave gainful employment to a veteran, it didn’t work out, and that person goes off half-cocked on social media looking like a complete jerk. People are watching and making assessments all the time. My company now has a code of conduct around social media and everyone has to sign it.

Start or buy a business

If I had to do it all over again, I would have bought a business. There are so many good franchises and you can get a small government-backed loan through the SBA to start. I think most veterans have what it takes to manage and grow a small business. You have tremendous freedom and autonomy and this would be my number-one advice for veterans. Start your own business. There are literally tens of thousands of businesses for sale by people who just want to retire. They put their kids through college and the kids don’t want the business because they’ve gone on to be doctors or lawyers and the parents just want to sell to someone who’ll take care of their baby. In many of these cases, you can buy these with owner financing and use the business to pay off the debt and take home a good, solid six-figure income. Do your homework on this, take classes, and look at the SBA’s website.

Trust but verify

The military puts you in a system that forces trust and you come to take that for granted. It is NOT this way on the outside. We have to trust people, but don’t get taken advantage of. Always ask for references and proof points and follow up. I’ve seen too many veterans get scammed by loan sharks or crazy schemes.

Find a good mentor or two, or three…

You just have to ask. I have several mentors and they’ve been critical in many phases of my transition. Some want to give back to the military community and some I’ve had to approach with a value proposition. “What can I offer them in exchange? How can I be valuable to this person?” Sure, people will respect your service but nobody owes you anything. Remember that. It’s up to you to do the work and prove your value on the outside.

Learn which military skills do (and don’t) translate

It should be easy but I see veterans using skills that don’t translate all the time. Hazing (all forms), threatening to kick someone’s ass to settle a dispute (while gratifying at times, it’s a sure lose-lose), and worse. Several skills translate well: Showing up on time, doing what you say you’ll do, teamwork, strategy, execution, taking initiative, and problem-solving. These are a few skills that will serve you very well on the outside.

Build a solid external network

There are plenty of great professional organizations you can join. You need to join one because you have to start building a solid external network. The Masons, Entrepreneurs Organization (EO), start-up groups, sports clubs, Young Presidents Organization (YPO), and so on. EO and YPO have both been incredible for me since I lost a lot of military friends in the war, and largely wanted to surround myself with positive, business-minded, successful people. You are who you hang out with. Remember that.

Which brings me to the most important tip I can give you:

Live by the Golden Rule

This sounds simple, but you’d be surprised how many veterans I’ve seen shit on each other in public. My own community is the worst at this! It only makes them (and all of us vets) look extremely unprofessional, and is a huge red flag to potential employers or future business partners. They’ll just de-risk and decline you before you even know it. I’ve worked hard to reverse the veteran stigma that exits and it’s hard to keep defending this to the business community when folks act like children. We have to police ourselves. It makes it harder for other veterans to gain future employment when veterans do this. So, treat people professionally and respectfully at all times and it will come back to you in a big way. If in doubt, ask yourself this question, “Is what I’m doing going to reflect positively on the veteran community?” If the answer is no, don’t do it. The Golden Rule, live by it.

Thanks for listening and I hope my story and experience helps. If you know a transitioning veteran, please share this with them. I’m also glad to DM any veterans who have follow-up questions on my Instagram: @BrandontWebb.

See you on the outside.

About the Author:

Brandon Webb is a New York Times bestselling author, pilot, tech investor, former Navy SEAL, and founder of the Crate Club Group.

The RifleMug is an Army Ranger’s solution to your boring coffee cup

Here at the Loadout Room, we tend not to throw our hats into the Kickstarter ring all that often. It’s not that we aren’t a fan of crowd funding projects, it’s that we review gear — and most Kickstarters don’t have stuff for us to smash up on camera behind the office (what we call “work” around here). So what made us make an exception with the RifleMug? Good old fashioned favoritism, of course. Former Army Ranger Nate Apel, founder of RifleMug, served alongside a good friend of mine. So when he asked if I could make an exception to our Kickstarter rule (a rule I made up), I said sure. What’s the point in making up a rule if I can’t also make up when I break it, right?

Here’s the thing though… it’s also a rad idea.

In the Marine Corps, walking around with a coffee mug was like a right of passage. If you tried to do it as a Corporal, we’d all laugh at you from behind our cans of Monster. But as a Gunny… the mug just seemed right. Something about that second rocker just made you rate a reusable mug that no one would dare steal. For team guys, getting a cup of coffee in the team room may be your last bit of comfort for some time, adding an extra bit of importance to the vessel used to deliver it.

But here on the outside, where there is no 4 a.m. formation to worry about, I find myself more dependent on coffee than ever. And while I may have left the Marine Corps before reaching that coveted rank of Gunnery Sergeant, here at home, I’m the dad. This billet requires being up first, going to bed last, handling all the physical labor, and doing battle with any of the creepy things my wife and daughter come across. It’s like being a mix between a PFC and a Gunner with the caffeine requirements of both.

Sure, I could keep drinking out of the dainty coffee cups my wife purchased as a set, or I could choose my own mug — one that I only have to fill once per morning. With 30oz of capacity, I can finally save myself all those refill trips to the coffee maker. Then, since it’s dishwasher safe, I’ll throw the RifleMug in the dishwasher and have it back out just in time to start drinking.

Go show these guys some support at their Kickstarter page, or swing by their Facebook page and let them know what you think!

Teaching an old dog new tricks: I may not be the Marine I once was but I’m cool with that

Since becoming a dad, there’s been a running joke among my friends and family about how fatherhood is making me soft. It’s a fair observation to make: I do spend a lot more time watching animated animals sing nursery rhymes now, and words like “cute” and “adorable” are now a part of my day-to-day vocabulary… but the truth is, I’ve been getting soft for a long time.

This morning, I poured myself a cup of coffee with a beautiful kiddo on my hip and walked out onto my back porch. As may be the case for many of you, my porch is a sacred place. It offers privacy, seclusion, a view of the turn off for my road a half mile away so I know in advance if anyone’s coming to visit… and most days, it serves as my weatherman.

“Welp, looks like it’s gonna be a rainy one,” I said to my wife through our kitchen window this morning. It was already raining, but I like to pretend the screws in my knees and ankles provide some kind of weather-based clairvoyance. The truth is, they hurt all the time, they just hurt different on rainy days.

My daughter is still new to the world and the strange ways it replenishes and sustains itself. Water falling from the sky, bugs zipping from plant to plant, it’s all foreign, and sometimes frightening, unless she’s got a handful of dad’s sweatshirt. Rainy days have been fewer and further between than sunny ones around here lately, so this morning’s rain added a new element to her confused uncertainty. She’d reach a hand out, trying to grab at the water pouring down from my clogged rain gutters (yeah, yeah, I know, I’ll get to them). When the water refused to be contained within her tiny fingers, she turned to me with a newly learned indignance: this water isn’t cooperating, Dad.

As I stood there quietly sipping my coffee and watching this tiny person with my wife’s good looks and my father’s eyes grow angry at water’s refusal to do as it’s told I realized what a different man I am than the one I still see myself as. It wasn’t that long ago that a rainy day like this meant soaked boots and chafing. It wasn’t that long ago that I was putting extra socks in zip lock bags to keep them dry. It wasn’t that long ago that I’d be grateful to the rain for keeping me cool and for not being snow.

We all lose a step or two as we get older, but lots of us work to keep that number from growing. We spend time in the gym and at the range. We read articles, talk to others with similar interests, push ourselves to improve but as I stood there holding my daughter under the protection of my porch roof, looking out at the falling rain, I knew that I’m not the same man that led Marines through terrain more treacherous than my steep backyard I lament mowing. I knew that I now lack that “whatever will be, will be” attitude about my environment. Now, I have comfort on my side.

The title of a column I used write for SOFREP called “Old Man Fitness” was born back when I was coaching high school football. I was a young kid in my early twenties, but already far stronger and more physically dominant that the students just a few years my junior on the field – something they attributed to “old man strength.” I laughed it off, but as I got older, I also got stronger (through a great deal of work) and I began to recognize the truth in their jokes: old man strength is real, or at least, it seems like it is. But if that’s true, why do I feel so soft from my vantage point on my back porch on rainy days like today?

Well, to be honest, i think it may be because old man strength isn’t real but something better is.

During my years playing football for the Marine Corps, playing rugby in college, fighting in bars and in cages, I was young, proud, and studious. I prided myself on the effort I put in to learning the proper form, the right execution of my steps, my shooting, my striking… always sure I’d eventually face some adversary that was larger, stronger, and more capable than I was. I always felt like the underdog, even when I was the clear favorite, and I credit that mentality for my undefeated (but short lived) career as a fighter, the stack of football trophies on my mantle, and the scrapbook full of newspaper clippings I keep tucked away in my office closet.

Now, with age on my side but much of my youthful vitality stripped away by injury and time, I feel like I could still probably kick that guy’s ass. Why? Well, because he was an idiot.

Twenty-something me relied on his training and form in all things he could; he was a good student and a pretty decent athlete too… but when the going got tough, he was all about one thing: just f*cking smashing his problems until they stopped moving. It worked most of the time, and when it didn’t, young Alex healed fast.

I don’t heal like that anymore, but what I lack in recovery I make up for in experience. I know how to fight that younger, stronger opponent because I felt him lose, I watched him adjust and change, shifting styles, techniques over the years to become more capable, more efficient while exposing himself to less risk. I got soft because I got better at not getting hurt.

Now, I know that young buck from a decade and a half ago could out-run me. He might even be able to out-lift me, but he sure as hell couldn’t out-smart me.

And, if that didn’t work, I haven’t forgotten how to just f*ckin’ smash stuff. We all get soft eventually… but as far as I’m concerned, I earned it.

Images courtesy of the author

NFW Operation Enduring Warrior AutoPilot: A watch with a story

The Operation Enduring Warrior watch by NFW is by far one of my favorite timepieces to wear. It’s not because of any fancy movements or materials used. The reason is the story behind it and what the watch symbolizes to me. To me, the term ‘Enduring Warrior’ signifies someone enduring the effects of combat and/or the struggles with leaving the military. Although I’m not a combat veteran, I had to endure the effects of seeing the death of those I served alongside during a training exercise gone bad.

I also chose to have both the watchcase and metal band distressed by the owner of NFW Watch Company. Although the ‘distressed’ look gives the watch a very unique look, it also symbolizes to me the struggles some veterans have when transitioning out of the military. We come out of the military a bit distressed, battle worn and a little rough around the edges. Wearing this watch gives me a daily reminder of where I came from as well as the struggles those are dealing with today. It keeps me in check and thankful for what I have.

What is Operation Enduring Warrior?

NFW is honored to join Operation Enduring Warrior, producing watches that raise funds and awareness for the outstanding work the organization does.

Operation Enduring Warrior (OEW) is a veteran-founded non‐profit 501(c)(3) whose mission is to honor, empower, and motivate our nation’s wounded veterans through a physical, mental and emotional rehabilitation. Our program helps participants overcome adversity and hardship through innovation, teamwork, and perseverance.