Reborn in America’s Anti-Terror Unit

After Hell Week, training entered the second phase of BUD/S—Underwater Training.

This stage, also known as "Combat Diving Training," included a wide range of skills: underwater survival, diving, breathing apparatus usage, underwater navigation, ship sabotage, and more.

Before it officially began, the usually hot-tempered Instructor Rogue uncharacteristically addressed them in a calm, solemn tone.

"This training will teach you to be eternally optimistic. No matter how many enemies you face, you will never surrender. You must believe you'll make it home alive. To this day, not a single SEAL has ever become a prisoner of war. Of all the forces I've encountered, only Delta Force shares that same belief. Burn to death if you must—never fade away."

That single statement made blood surge in the trainees' veins. It seemed to symbolize that they had finally earned recognition from their instructors.

Just like individuals, special forces have their own identities. SEALs are a trident force—land, air, and sea—but as a Navy special ops unit, underwater capabilities are their bread and butter. That made this phase absolutely critical.

Owen was excited. After surviving the hellish physical training, especially Hell Week, it was finally time to learn real skills—the reason he had come. The physical and mental breakthroughs before were just unexpected benefits.

The tactics he had learned with SWAT were strictly limited to urban land combat. In the water, he was a complete novice, and the idea of becoming proficient in such an alien domain thrilled him.

Others felt the same—hopeful that underwater training would be a welcome change of pace. But they were wrong.

There was a reason this training came only after physical conditioning. Though the focus was on new skills, the intensity was no less brutal. At this point, physical fitness was simply the bare minimum for survival.

As the training began, Owen quickly discovered they were about to learn far more than he'd expected: underwater survival, swimming, scuba usage, repairing damaged underwater gear, navigation, demolition, maritime reconnaissance and infiltration, submarine escape procedures, and more. One discipline after another, practiced over and over again.

The first lesson: use of underwater breathing apparatus.

SEALs use two main systems. One was the common open-circuit scuba seen in civilian use.

The second was far more advanced—a closed-circuit rebreather. This system produced no air bubbles, making it ideal for covert insertion. It was the preferred tool for stealth missions, and mastery of both systems was required.

In addition, they had to learn theory: enemy psychology, diving physiology, ocean currents, marine ecosystems, which creatures were dangerous or venomous, and how to handle all underwater emergencies—gear failures, nitrogen narcosis, underwater bomb disposal. The list was endless.

When trainees began nodding off during lectures, instructors were unforgiving. The kind ones would hand them a live tear gas grenade—pin pulled—and tell them to hold it tightly.

The cruel ones simply tossed it at their feet. Nobody dared doze off again.

Their first hands-on exercise was "Underwater Survival."

Instructors hid at the bottom of a three-meter-deep pool, waiting to ambush unsuspecting trainees. They'd suddenly disrupt their equipment, yank off air hoses, twist and knot their rebreathers. Trainees had 1–4 minutes to fix it all and surface.

Owen was totally caught off guard. His mind went blank. He relied purely on muscle memory to reassemble his gear and untie the knots.

It took him three full minutes—an eternity underwater. Later he learned that some did it in one minute, others in four. Three trainees blacked out and had to be rescued. They were immediately disqualified.

Next came "Night Dive Gear Swap." Two trainees would dive and, with vision completely blocked by blacked-out masks, swap full diving kits.

In theory, this was simple. In practice, Owen drew a bad partner. Though he completed the swap quickly, his buddy panicked and nearly got him killed by flailing and fumbling through the exchange.

After pool drills came ocean operations. The sea was raging. Temperatures hovered around ten degrees Celsius—frigid.

The trainees were fully geared, dropped at a location by inflatable boats. The instructors pointed at the horizon and said, "Jump in. Swim to shore."

Stunned looks all around. Owen's face practically screamed, "Say that again?" But the instructor simply kicked him overboard. The SEAL way.

A 1,000-meter combat swim was nothing like a pool swim.

You could swim for what felt like hours without seeing land. Every stroke burned. Even though the water was freezing, Owen felt like he was sweating bullets.

Soon, he showed signs of stage-two hypothermia: blurred vision, fading consciousness—but his arms and legs kept moving on autopilot.

Others quit. They stopped and screamed for help. The rescue boats plucked them out, gave them hot blankets, cocoa, maybe a warm burger.

It was a scene all too familiar to Owen. He had refused comfort on the brink of death before. He wasn't going to take it now.

When he finally washed ashore, he had no memory of how he got there—just that he did.

Many others had dropped out. They had survived Hell Week only to fall here. Owen felt both pity and relief for them. At least they didn't have to suffer anymore.

There was a purpose to all of it.

Trainees had to learn to use moored warships as training targets—practice stealth infiltration, become true combat divers. They would undergo 9-kilometer endurance swims in the frigid ocean.

Infiltration was the SEALs' specialty. Using submarines, they could reach sensitive coasts undetected, then deploy via miniature submersibles or rubber boats—slipping past border patrols like ghosts.

SEALs didn't just train for these missions. They had the gear to match.

The ASDS (Advanced SEAL Delivery System) was a closed submersible designed specifically for SEALs—capable of long-range underwater transport and precision infiltration.

Riverine craft had also played major roles during the Vietnam War. Lessons learned in the jungle had led to advanced, heavily armed boats ideal for inland warfare.

Rubber boats remained a staple—cheap, disposable, and portable. SEALs had to master every inch of them.

Though SEALs preferred stealth and recon, each member was trained to operate a wide array of light and heavy weapons with precision. They could jump into a firefight at a moment's notice and hold their own even when outnumbered.

To be a SEAL meant being prepared for anything—on land, in air, and especially in water.

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