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The following is used by permission from Lt. Col. Dave Grossman.

On Sheep, Wolves and Sheepdogs
(From the book, On Combat, by Lt. Col. Dave Grossman)

Honor never grows old, and honor rejoices the heart of age. It does so because honor is, finally, about defending those noble and worthy things that deserve defending, even if it comes at a high cost. In our time, that may mean social disapproval, public scorn, hardship, persecution, or as always, even death itself.

The question remains: What is worth defending? What is worth dying for? What is worth living for?

- William J. Bennett
- In a lecture to the United States Naval Academy
- November 24, 1997

One Vietnam veteran, an old retired colonel, once said this to me: “Most of the people in our society are sheep. They are kind, gentle, productive creatures who can only hurt one another by accident.” This is true. Remember, the murder rate is six per 100,000 per year, and the aggravated assault rate is four per 1,000 per year. What this means is that the vast majority of Americans are not inclined to hurt one another.

Some estimates say that two million Americans are victims of violent crimes every year, a tragic, staggering number, perhaps an all-time record rate of violent crime. But there are almost 300 million Americans, which means that the odds of being a victim of violent crime is considerably less than one in a hundred on any given year. Furthermore, since many violent crimes are committed by repeat offenders, the actual number of violent citizens is considerably less than two million.

Thus there is a paradox, and we must grasp both ends of the situation: We may well be in the most violent times in history, but violence is still remarkably rare. This is because most citizens are kind, decent people who are not capable of hurting each other, except by accident or under extreme provocation. They are sheep.

I mean nothing negative by calling them sheep. To me it is like the pretty, blue robin’s egg. Inside it is soft and gooey but someday it will grow into something wonderful. But the egg cannot survive without its hard blue shell. Police officers, soldiers and other warriors are like that shell, and someday the civilization they protect will grow into something wonderful. For now, though, they need warriors to protect them from the predators.

“Then there are the wolves,” the old war veteran said, “and the wolves feed on the sheep without mercy.” Do you believe there are wolves out there who will feed on the flock without mercy? You better believe it. There are evil men in this world and they are capable of evil deeds. The moment you forget that or pretend it is not so, you become a sheep. There is no safety in denial.

“Then there are sheepdogs,” he went on, “and I’m a sheepdog. I live to protect the flock and confront the wolf.” Or, as a sign in one California law enforcement agency put it, “We intimidate those who intimidate others.”

If you have no capacity for violence then you are a healthy productive citizen: a sheep. If you have a capacity for violence and no empathy for your fellow citizens, then you have defined an aggressive sociopath–a wolf. But what if you have a capacity for violence, and a deep love for your fellow citizens? Then you are a sheepdog, a warrior, someone who is walking the hero’s path. Someone who can walk into the heart of darkness, into the universal human phobia, and walk out unscathed.

The gift of aggression

What goes on around you… compares little with what goes on inside you.

- Ralph Waldo Emerson

Everyone has been given a gift in life. Some people have a gift for science and some have a flair for art. And warriors have been given the gift of aggression. They would no more misuse this gift than a doctor would misuse his healing arts, but they yearn for the opportunity to use their gift to help others. These people, the ones who have been blessed with the gift of aggression and a love for others, are our sheepdogs. These are our warriors.

One career police officer wrote to me about this after attending one of my Bulletproof Mind training sessions:

“I want to say thank you for finally shedding some light on why it is that I can do what I do. I always knew why I did it. I love my [citizens], even the bad ones, and had a talent that I could return to my community. I just couldn’t put my finger on why I could wade through the chaos, the gore, the sadness, if given a chance try to make it all better, and walk right out the other side.”

Let me expand on this old soldier’s excellent model of the sheep, wolves, and sheepdogs. We know that the sheep live in denial; that is what makes them sheep. They do not want to believe that there is evil in the world. They can accept the fact that fires can happen, which is why they want fire extinguishers, fire sprinklers, fire alarms and fire exits throughout their kids’ schools. But many of them are outraged at the idea of putting an armed police officer in their kid’s school. Our children are dozens of times more likely to be killed, and thousands of times more likely to be seriously injured, by school violence than by school fires, but the sheep’s only response to the possibility of violence is denial. The idea of someone coming to kill or harm their children is just too hard, so they choose the path of denial.

The sheep generally do not like the sheepdog. He looks a lot like the wolf. He has fangs and the capacity for violence. The difference, though, is that the sheepdog must not, cannot and will not ever harm the sheep. Any sheepdog who intentionally harms the lowliest little lamb will be punished and removed. The world cannot work any other way, at least not in a representative democracy or a republic such as ours.

Still, the sheepdog disturbs the sheep. He is a constant reminder that there are wolves in the land. They would prefer that he didn’t tell them where to go, or give them traffic tickets, or stand at the ready in our airports in camouflage fatigues holding an M-16. The sheep would much rather have the sheepdog cash in his fangs, spray paint himself white, and go, “Baa.”

Until the wolf shows up. Then the entire flock tries desperately to hide behind one lonely sheepdog. As Kipling said in his poem about “Tommy” the British soldier:

While it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ “Tommy, fall be’ind,”
But it’s “Please to walk in front, sir,” when there’s trouble in the wind,
There’s trouble in the wind, my boys, there’s trouble in the wind,
O it’s “Please to walk in front, sir,” when there’s trouble in the wind.

The students, the victims, at Columbine High School were big, tough high school students, and under ordinary circumstances they would not have had the time of day for a police officer. They were not bad kids; they just had nothing to say to a cop. When the school was under attack, however, and SWAT teams were clearing the rooms and hallways, the officers had to physically peel those clinging, sobbing kids off of them. This is how the little lambs feel about their sheepdog when the wolf is at the door. Look at what happened after September 11, 2001, when the wolf pounded hard on the door. Remember how America, more than ever before, felt differently about their law enforcement officers and military personnel? Remember how many times you heard the word hero?

Understand that there is nothing morally superior about being a sheepdog; it is just what you choose to be. Also understand that a sheepdog is a funny critter: He is always sniffing around out on the perimeter, checking the breeze, barking at things that go bump in the night, and yearning for a righteous battle. That is, the young sheepdogs yearn for a righteous battle. The old sheepdogs are a little older and wiser, but they move to the sound of the guns when needed right along with the young ones.

Here is how the sheep and the sheepdog think differently. The sheep pretend the wolf will never come, but the sheepdog lives for that day. After the attacks on September 11, 2001, most of the sheep, that is, most citizens in America said, “Thank God I wasn’t on one of those planes.” The sheepdogs, the warriors, said, “Dear God, I wish I could have been on one of those planes. Maybe I could have made a difference.” When you are truly transformed into a warrior and have truly invested yourself into warriorhood, you want to be there. You want to be able to make a difference.

While there is nothing morally superior about the sheepdog, the warrior, he does have one real advantage. Only one. He is able to survive and thrive in an environment that destroys 98 percent of the population.

There was research conducted a few years ago with individuals convicted of violent crimes. These cons were in prison for serious, predatory acts of violence: assaults, murders and killing law enforcement officers. The vast majority said that they specifically targeted victims by body language: slumped walk, passive behavior and lack of awareness. They chose their victims like big cats do in Africa, when they select one out of the herd that is least able to protect itself.

However, when there were cues given by potential victims that indicated they would not go easily, the cons said that they would walk away. If the cons sensed that the target was a “counter-predator,” that is, a sheepdog, they would leave him alone unless there was no other choice but to engage.

One police officer told me that he rode a commuter train to work each day. One day, as was his usual, he was standing in the crowded car, dressed in blue jeans, T-shirt and jacket, holding onto a pole and reading a paperback. At one of the stops, two street toughs boarded, shouting and cursing and doing every obnoxious thing possible to intimidate the other riders. The officer continued to read his book, though he kept a watchful eye on the two punks as they strolled along the aisle making comments to female passengers, and banging shoulders with men as they passed.

As they approached the officer, he lowered his novel and made eye contact with them. “You got a problem, man?” one of the IQ-challenged punks asked. “You think you’re tough, or somethin’?” the other asked, obviously offended that this one was not shirking away from them.

“As a matter of fact, I am tough,” the officer said, calmly and with a steady gaze.

The two looked at him for a long moment, and then without saying a word, turned and moved back down the aisle to continue their taunting of the other passengers, the sheep.

Some people may be destined to be sheep and others might be genetically primed to be wolves or sheepdogs. But I believe that most people can choose which one they want to be, and I’m proud to say that more and more Americans are choosing to become sheepdogs.

Seven months after the attack on September 11, 2001, Todd Beamer was honored in his hometown of Cranbury, New Jersey. Todd, as you recall, was the man on Flight 93 over Pennsylvania who called on his cell phone to alert an operator from United Airlines about the hijacking. When he learned of the other three passenger planes that had been used as weapons, Todd dropped his phone and uttered the words, “Let’s roll,” which authorities believe was a signal to the other passengers to confront the terrorist hijackers. In one hour, a transformation occurred among the passengers–athletes, business people and parents–from sheep to sheepdogs and together they fought the wolves, ultimately saving an unknown number of lives on the ground.

“Do you have any idea how hard it would be to live with yourself after that?”

“here is no safety for honest men except by believing all possible evil of evil men.”

- Edmund Burke
- Reflections on the Revolution in France

Here is the point I like to emphasize, especially to the thousands of police officers and soldiers I speak to each year. In nature the sheep, real sheep, are born as sheep. Sheepdogs are born that way, and so are wolves. They didn’t have a choice. But you are not a critter. As a human being, you can be whatever you want to be. It is a conscious, moral decision.

If you want to be a sheep, then you can be a sheep and that is okay, but you must understand the price you pay. When the wolf comes, you and your loved ones are going to die if there is not a sheepdog there to protect you. If you want to be a wolf, you can be one, but the sheepdogs are going to hunt you down and you will never have rest, safety, trust or love. But if you want to be a sheepdog and walk the warrior’s path, then you must make a conscious and moral decision every day to dedicate, equip and prepare yourself to thrive in that toxic, corrosive moment when the wolf comes knocking at the door.

For example, many officers carry their weapons in church. They are well concealed in ankle holsters, shoulder holsters or inside-the-belt holsters tucked into the small of their backs. Anytime you go to some form of religious service, there is a very good chance that a police officer in your congregation is carrying. You will never know if there is such an individual in your place of worship, until the wolf appears to slaughter you and your loved ones.

I was training a group of police officers in Texas, and during the break, one officer asked his friend if he carried his weapon in church. The other cop replied, “I will never be caught without my gun in church.” I asked why he felt so strongly about this, and he told me about a police officer he knew who was at a church massacre in Ft. Worth, Texas, in 1999. In that incident, a mentally deranged individual came into the church and opened fire, gunning down 14 people. He said that officer believed he could have saved every life that day if he had been carrying his gun. His own son was shot, and all he could do was throw himself on the boy’s body and wait to die. That cop looked me in the eye and said, “Do you have any idea how hard it would be to live with yourself after that?”

Some individuals would be horrified if they knew this police officer was carrying a weapon in church. They might call him paranoid and would probably scorn him. Yet these same individuals would be enraged and would call for “heads to roll” if they found out that the airbags in their cars were defective, or that the fire extinguisher and fire sprinklers in their kids’ school did not work. They can accept the fact that fires and traffic accidents can happen and that there must be safeguards against them. Their only response to the wolf, though, is denial, and all too often their response to the sheepdog is scorn and disdain. But the sheepdog quietly asks himself, “Do you have any idea how hard it would be to live with yourself if your loved ones were attacked and killed, and you had to stand there helplessly because you were unprepared for that day?”

The warrior must cleanse denial from his thinking. Coach Bob Lindsey, a renowned law enforcement trainer, says that warriors must practice “when/then” thinking, not “if/when.” Instead of saying,“If it happens then I will take action,” the warrior says, “When it happens then I will be ready.”

It is denial that turns people into sheep. Sheep are psychologically destroyed by combat because their only defense is denial, which is counterproductive and destructive, resulting in fear, helplessness and horror when the wolf shows up.

Denial kills you twice. It kills you once, at your moment of truth when you are not physically prepared: You didn’t bring your gun; you didn’t train. Your only defense was wishful thinking. Hope is not a strategy. Denial kills you a second time because even if you do physically survive, you are psychologically shattered by fear, helplessness, horror and shame at your moment of truth.

Chuck Yeager, the famous test pilot and first man to fly faster than the speed of sound, says that he knew he could die. There was no denial for him. He did not allow himself the luxury of denial. This acceptance of reality can cause fear, but it is a healthy, controlled fear that will keep you alive:

“I was always afraid of dying. Always. It was my fear that made me learn everything I could about my airplane and my emergency equipment, and kept me flying respectful of my machine and always alert in the cockpit.”

- Brigadier General Chuck Yeager
- Yeager, An Autobiography

Gavin de Becker puts it like this in Fear Less, his superb post-9/11 book, which should be required reading for anyone trying to come to terms with our current world situation:

“..denial can be seductive, but it has an insidious side effect. For all the peace of mind deniers think they get by saying it isn’t so, the fall they take when faced with new violence is all the more unsettling. Denial is a save-now-pay-later scheme, a contract written entirely in small print, for in the long run, the denying person knows the truth on some level.”

And so the warrior must strive to confront denial in all aspects of his life, and prepare himself for the day when evil comes.

If you are a warrior who is legally authorized to carry a weapon and you step outside without that weapon, then you become a sheep, pretending that the bad man will not come today. No one can be “on” 24/7 for a lifetime. Everyone needs down time. But if you are authorized to carry a weapon, and you walk outside without it, just take a deep breath, and say this to yourself… “Baa.”

This business of being a sheep or a sheepdog is not a yes-no dichotomy. It is not an all-or-nothing, either-or choice. It is a matter of degrees, a continuum. On one end is an abject, head-in-the-grass sheep and on the other end is the ultimate warrior. Few people exist completely on one end or the other. Most of us live somewhere in between. Since 9-11 almost everyone in America took a step up that continuum, away from denial. The sheep took a few steps toward accepting and appreciating their warriors, and the warriors started taking their job more seriously. The degree to which you move up that continuum, away from sheephood and denial, is the degree to which you and your loved ones will survive, physically and psychologically at your moment of truth.

The story of Snow Globe Santa began in December 1975.  My wife and I had been married about a year.  I was in the U.S. Navy and in the process of begin transferred from Great Lakes, IL to Patuxent River, MD.  My salary was a meager $200 twice a month (after taxes).  The Navy allowance for moving was a whopping $86.  With that $86, I had to put a trailer hitch on our car, rent a U-Haul trailer, and pay for gas and hotels while we made the three-day trip.

During the final week of our stay at Great Lakes, my wife was in the Base Exchange and came across a plastic snow globe Santa.  The price was 99 cents.  Since we were doing everything we could to save money for the move, Cheryl looked at Santa and then sadly put him back on the shelf.  Two more times she went back, picked him up, and put him back on the shelf - too afraid to spend the money that we didn’t have.  Well, she finally gave in on the fourth time back to the shelf and put him in the shopping cart.  To this day, Cheryl can’t really explain the attraction to that plastic Santa, but for some reason, he wound up on our possession.

On our trip from Great Lakes to Pax River, as soon as we checked into a hotel, snow globe Santa was the first thing that got unpacked.  Since we were making the move during late December, we had no Christmas decorations, so snow globe Santa seemed to be the only thing that kept us in the Christmas spirit during that lonely trip.

Over the 34 years that Cheryl and I have been together, this little plastic Santa has had a place of honor on our mantle each and every Christmas when we decorate our home.  We had a moment of panic this year though, because after having unpacked all of the decorations, finishing the tree, and putting everything out, we noticed that snow globe Santa was not on the mantle.  We immediately looked in all of the boxes for him, but he was nohere to be found.  It wasn’t until I looked in a box for the third time that I found him hiding in a box (which was not his usual safe spot).  Cheryl and I both breathed a sigh of relief, and smiled at each other as we placed in on the mantle for his annual Christmastime duties.

Over the years, the liquid in Santa’s round belly has evaporated and turned brown.  I decided this year that I would perform a very risky, but necessary fluid transplant.  I searched the internet to see what liquid should be used to heal our ailing patient.  Just about every article that I read said to use distilled water.  So, off to Walgreen’s I went to get the life-saving liquid that our Santa so desperately needed.

Once I returned with the surgical supplies, I laid our patient out on the kitchen counter for his surgery.  I carefully drilled a small hole in his lower backside.  Once I did that, I was able to drain all of the harmful brown liquid out, along with the snow particles (which has also turned a light shade of brown).  I carefully rinsed the snow with clean water and restored them to their near original whiteness.  I also filled and rinsed Santa’s tummy to remove as much of the “harmful infection” as possible before restoring his internal parts.  All during Santa’s delicate surgery, Cheryl paced nervously in the kitchen, looking over my shoulder frequently, wondering if Santa would pull through.  After being satisfied that he was safe for replenishment, I put the snow back in his tummy little by little, and then used a hypodermic to refill him with clean, clear distilled water.  After completing the delicate procedure, I sutured him up with epoxy.  I’m happy to report that snow globe Santa looks almost as good as new, except for the small scar on his backside, which hopefully will heal over time.  I’m guessing that he will be able to continue his prestigious duties on our mantle for many years to come.

Snow Globe Santa’s Incision

Snow Globe Santa After the Surgery

Snow Globe Santa With Snow In His Tummy

 

 Merry Christmas to you all.

My nephew sent me an email that contained the quotes that are included later in this post. After reading the quotes, I got to thinking, and that usually causes me to reflect on our nation, its people, and its history. In a day and age where people feel that the world, the government, or somebody else “owes them something”, in a dark time in our nation’s history where so many are questioning our involvement in Iraq, these quotes are very relevant and timely.

We, as a people, seem to have thrown away our values, our heritage, and the remembrance of what it took to form this very young nation. Our founding fathers didn’t simply send a friendly letter to the King of England stating that we didn’t want to be their pawns anymore. Our forefathers had the grit to draw a line in the sand and defend it with all of their might. I fear that if our current population had been around in 1776, we would still be under British control. Other than the courageous men and women of our military who put their very lives on the line each day to defend our borders, I fear that we would be hard-pressed to muster enough “Average Joe Citizens” that are likewise willing to take up the flag and carry it into battle. Having served in the U.S. Navy for six years myself, I consider myself very privileged to be able to stand alongside side those who so selflessly serve today.

Well, enough of my ramblings. Here are the quotes.

“We sleep safe in our beds because rough men stand ready in the night to visit violence on those who would do us harm.”
- George Orwell

“Do not fear the enemy, for your enemy can only take your life. It is far better that you fear the media for they will steal your honor.”
- Bobby McBride, Crew Chief, 128th Assault Helicopter Company, RVN 1969-1970

“For those that have fought for it, freedom has a taste that the protected will never know”
- General George Patton

“Do What You Can, With What You Have, Where You Are”
- Teddy Roosevelt

And I would like to add one of my own favorites. It’s from the movie “A Few Good Men”. It’s the lecture that Jack Nickolson gave in the final courtroom scene.

“Son, we live in a world that has walls, and those walls have to be guarded by men with guns. Who’s gonna do it? You? You, Lieutenant Weinberg? I have a greater responsibility than you can possibly fathom. You weep for Santiago and you curse the marines. You have that luxury. You have the luxury of not knowing what I know: that Santiago’s death, while tragic, probably saved lives. And my existence, while grotesque and incomprehensible to you, saves lives. You don’t want the truth because, deep down in places you don’t talk about at parties, you want me on that wall, you need me on that wall. We use words like honor, code, loyalty. We use these words as the backbone of a life spent defending something. You use them as a punchline. I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain myself to a man who rises and sleeps under the blanket of the very freedom that I provide and then questions the manner in which I provide it. I would rather you just said “thank you” and went on your way. Otherwise I suggest you pick up a weapon and stand at post. Either way, I don’t give a damn what you think you are entitled to.”

I called in sick today.  I had a serious case of the East Tennessee Tristy Flu, also known as Dragon Fever.  In other words, I was having withdrawals from the Tail of the Dragon.  It has been over a year since I last tamed my favorite stretch of highway.  At least once a year, I make a trip to east Tennessee to ride the famous “318 curves in 11 miles”, the Tail of the Dragon.

Our son, Chris, has recently moved to Maryville, TN, which is located only 20 miles from the north end of the Dragon.  I called him last night and asked if he’d like to meet me for a “big boy play day” on the twisties.  Chris has a supercharged Chevy Cobalt and I have a Honda Gold Wing.  Both of these vehicles are made for the curves and switchbacks of the Dragon.

I left Murfreesboro for the 2 1/2 hour ride to Maryville at 6:30 in the morning on the freshly polished Wing, aka “Wind Dancer”.  I hooked up with Chris about half way between Maryville and the Dragon.  After a brief rest, and some catching up, we headed south on US 129 towards curve nirvana.  Just before heading out, I mentioned Chris that “the mom” made me promise that I would be good today. We both smiled at each other because there are some things that he and I get into that are better just kept between him and me. We both had already figured that today would probably entail a few things of which he and I agree that mom would be better off just not knowing about. It’s what he and I jokingly refer to as one of those “don’t tell mom” things.

The road to the Dragon is a joy in and of itself. You encounter lots of quick rises that are followed by sharp right or left hand turns. After a few miles, the road eases up a bit as it runs beside Tellico Lake. This gives you a chance for one last bit of calm and tranquility, and an opportunity to gather your thoughts for what your are about to experience. The main indicator that you have arrived at the Dragon is where the road takes an abrupt left and leaves the lake’s coastline.  Here at Tabcat Creek Bridge, you put your game face on, for the Dragon awaits his duel with you.

Map of the Dragon

For the next 12 miles, Chris and I fought the Dragon for all this treachurous old beast threw at us.  I scraped my footpegs more times that I could count as I pushed Wind Dancer through the 318 curves.  We made three passes through the Dragon.  Traffic was light, which made it just that much more fun.  As we completed our third pass and headed south past Fugitive Dam, I couldn’t help but notice that I as soaking wet with sweat and that my heartrate was up quite a bit.  The Dragon has that effect on me everytime I challenge him.  This road is not for beginners, and it is not forgiving.

Wind Dancer and Me on the Dragon

 

Chris on the Dragon

 

We continued down US 129 towards Robbinsville, NC on our way across the Cherohala Skyway (also known as The Mile-High Legend) towards Tellico Plains, TN.  But, just before we reached Robbinsville, we made the obligatory stop at Wheeler’s to pick up a new t-shirt.  From Wheeler’s, we made our way to Robbinsville, and across the 45 miles of the Cherohala.  The Cherohala is a wonderful highway.  The road consists of an endless supply of wide open sweepers, spectacular views, and elevation changes that range from 900 feet to over 5,390 feet above sea level.  The temperature was around 90 degrees at the lower elevations, but down to 65 degrees at the top.  We stopped for a while at the top to take in the cool temperature and a view that will humble even the most arrogant of beings.

Near the end of the Cherohala, just before arriving at Tellico Plains, we stopped for a late lunch at a nice deli. On the back of the deli is a wooden deck that overlooks a beautiful stream.  Here, we ate, enjoyed the view, and reflected on the fun that we had just experienced.  After lunch, Chris and I said our goodbyes, as he headed back to Maryville and I turned Wind Dancer west towards The ‘Boro.

This was a wonderful day, for it was a day that I got to visit my favorite roads in east Tennessee and a day to share some very special moments with my son.

Be on fire.
Be unstoppable.
Be a force of nature.
Be better than everybody else at what you do.