What the SEAL teams do, what our training does, is it chips away the outer that layer and shows you what you're capable of and not capable of.

I died upon that mountain. There is no question. A part of me will forever be upon that mountain. Dead. That's my brothers died. If there's a part of me that live, because of my brothers. Because of them I am still alive, and I can never forget, that no matter how much it hurts, how dark it gets, or how far you fall. You are never out of the fight.

I had no answer to those questions, only hope. With absolutely no one to turn to, no Mikey, no Axe, no Danny, I have to face the final battle by myself, maybe lonely, maybe desolate, maybe against formidable odds. But I was not giving up. I had only one Teammate. And He moved, as ever, in mysterious ways. But I was a Christian, and He had somehow saved me from a thousand AK-47 bullets on that day. No one had shot me, which was well nigh beyond all comprehension.

I got my service dog when I was medically retired out of the military, and it was the best thing that ever happened to me. I wish every medically retired serviceman could have a service dog. He's amazing. He's my best bud. I go everywhere and anywhere with him.

There's a storm inside of us, a burning river, a drive. You push yourself further than anyone could think possible. You are never out of the fight.

When I did get captured, the only thing I held onto was the fact that my teammates were going to come get me. Period.