Your Life as Every Rank in Special Forces

Level one, the recruit. You sign the papers at an office in a strip mall. The recruiter shakes your hand. He smiles like you just won something. You don't know what you won yet. You're 19 years old. You played football in high school. You lifted weights in your garage. You watched every military movie ever made.

You think you know what you're signing up for. You don't. You fly to Fort Benning for basic training. They shave your head in the first hour. They take your clothes and give you a uniform that doesn't fit. They scream at you from the moment you step off the bus. A drill sergeant is 3

in from your face telling you that you are nothing. You believe him. For 10 weeks you do nothing but run, shoot, march, and suffer. You learn how to hold a rifle. You learn how to throw a grenade. You learn how to survive in a chemical attack. You graduate. Your mother cries at the ceremony. You

feel proud for about an hour. Then you report to Airborne School. Three weeks of jumping out of airplanes. Your first jump you are so scared you almost can't breathe. The jump master shoves you out the door. You fall through 1,250 ft of empty air before your parachute opens. You land hard and you survive.

You do it four more times. You earn your wings. You're still not a Green Beret. Not even close. You're just a paratrooper now. An infantryman with silver wings on your chest. You report to Fort Bragg, North Carolina. You look at the men with the Green Berets walking around the base. They don't look at you. You don't exist

to them yet. You have to earn the right to exist. You spend your first year in a regular infantry unit. You clean rifles you'll never fire in combat. You stand in formation in the rain. You save every dollar of your paycheck. You want to wear the Green Beret. You write the request for Special Forces