Christmas Exodus Confessions from a Green Beret Who’s Had Enough of Comfortable Lies

By Bradley Schamel 

The holidays always bring a flood of social gatherings and travel, opening doors to new opportunities and chance encounters with interesting folks. I was passing through Atlanta’s airport the Friday before Christmas, heading home after a long, hectic year—ready to spend some time with family. The moment I stepped in, I knew it was going to be one of those mornings—the place was packed with fresh-faced troops, every soldier wrapping up Basic at Fort Benning (and probably a few from other Georgia posts), kicking off their journey home for what we old-timers still call the Christmas Exodus.

Standing in the security line, I fell into conversation with a tall, young private—standard basic shaved-head haircut, sharp as a bayonet. He mentioned he was on an Option 40 contract, the Ranger track. As we talked, he said something that rang true: “If you’re going to war, you might as well go with the best.” I couldn’t agree more. I told him so, then shared a bit about my own time in the Ranger community and as a Green Beret. We swapped stories on land nav nightmares and debated which pipeline was tougher—Ranger School or the Special Forces Qualification Course.

As we parted ways at the gate, I passed on a piece of advice that’s served me well through the years: Focus on the task at hand. “Don’t borrow tomorrow’s trouble today. Just handle what’s in front of you—one task, one meal, one day, one fight at a time. The rest will come when it comes—RLTW.”

As we parted ways and I watched him disappear into the sea of uniforms heading toward their gates, I stood there for a moment, lost in my own thoughts. A sudden rush of conflicting emotions hit me like a gut punch, and before I knew it, my eyes were welling up. Damn it. Maybe I caught a glimpse of my younger self in that kid—tall, motivated, full of that idealistic fire, signing up to be a Ranger because he wanted to serve something bigger than himself.

Part of me wanted to chase after him, grab him by the rucksack straps, and lay it out straight: Kid, do you really know what you’re stepping into? You’re about to become a highly trained tool—probably a pawn in some rich man’s game, fighting wars that don’t always make sense when you peel back the layers. Should I have tried to stop him? Warn him before he jumps down that rabbit hole?

But then I checked myself. I thought back to that version of me standing in the recruiter’s office all those years ago. Same fire, same reasons—or close enough. Patriotism, sure, but maybe something deeper, too. Hell, maybe he’s running from a rough childhood like so many of us were, looking to forge his own path and prove something to the world—or to himself.

With everything he’s seen growing up on the internet—exposed to every shade of human depravity and heroism from a young age—he may now be resolute in directing the sharp end of the bayonet toward the genuine evils of the world. Driven by that hardened perspective, he aspires to become a fanged predator in his own right, honing his edge and answering his calling within the elite ranks of the U.S. Army Rangers.

Or maybe it’s simpler: earn the GI Bill, get that degree, build a life he can be proud of.

It wasn’t my place to intervene. That kid’s got his own road to hoe, just like we all did.

And that got me thinking about where I am today—retired Green Beret, scars inside and out, stories I’ll never fully tell. If I could step back in time and talk to that young trooper staring at the posters on the wall… would I do it all again?

Yeah. I would. No hesitation.

Because whatever the games at the top, whatever the cost, there’s still something pure about answering the call. About standing shoulder-to-shoulder with brothers who’d die for you—and you for them. About knowing, deep down, that when evil shows up, somebody’s got to meet it head-on.

Most people would likely respond with “why?” and still walk away without comprehending it. We’re simply cut from a different cloth. The same Americans who automatically say “thank you for your service” or blurt out “have you ever killed anyone?” are usually just echoing what they’ve heard countless times on screens or in passing. There’s no malice in it—only the unexamined repetition of a society too busy, or too distant from reality, to question what those words really ask or acknowledge.

Sometimes I want to channel Henry V’s St. Crispin’s Day speech in my mind: a quiet nod to those of us who answered the call to serve something greater, while others—who had the chance but chose not to—now hold their manhoods cheap whenever any of us who were there speaks.

Which brings me to the heart of why I’m writing this—to the young men of this nation, the next generation of the warrior class: America remains a young country, still bleeding from a thousand self-inflicted wounds, and you are coming of age in the middle of a relentless information war. Much of that information war has targeted traditional masculinity—recasting strength, stoicism, and the instinct to protect as somehow “toxic.” A generation of young men is being told to doubt qualities that built civilizations and defended freedom.

If you’re cutting through the bullshit, trying to figure out where to plant your feet, here’s the only advice worth a damn from an old Green Beret who’s got more scars than years left on this earth: CHOOSE SERVICE—real service. Local, state, or federal—doesn’t matter. Put on a badge and shield your neighbors as a cop. Run into burning buildings as a fireman. Get your ass in the fight with the military. Hell, even the Peace Corps if you’re wired that way.

Live a life of service—one worthy of the countless sacrifices that built this nation. Imperfect as it is, America remains the greatest experiment in human freedom the world has ever seen. Go see the corners of this earth that most people only glimpse while scrolling. Meet people from every walk of life—those who look nothing like you, think nothing like you. Look them in the eye, listen carefully, and form your own judgments instead of swallowing the distorted narratives the algorithms feed you daily.

If a college degree is your goal, don’t wait for handouts. Enlist—active duty, Reserve, or Guard—and earn your GI Bill through commitment, hard work, and real responsibility. You’ll hear politicians and talking heads promise “free college,” “free healthcare,” “free everything.” Understand this: nothing is truly free. Someone always pays—whether it’s taxpayers today or your children tomorrow.

The surest way to earn those opportunities without burdening others? Serve your country. Put skin in the game, and you’ll come out stronger, wiser, and truly debt-free. If the idea of combat concerns you, know there are hundreds of non-combat roles: pilots, doctors, nurses, lawyers, cyber specialists, engineers, and more. Serve your country, gain world-class training, graduate debt-free, and enter your profession with years of practical experience most civilians can only dream of. You’ll emerge with discipline forged in fire, maturity far beyond your peers, and benefits that will serve you for a lifetime.

Me? I’m retired now, still carrying the weight and the worth of those years. When the towers fell on 9/11, I didn’t vent online—I signed the line and served. Out of that day’s horror, I chose to answer the call, and in return I gained a strength, a clarity of purpose, and bonds with brothers that nothing else in life can match.

I still live that hard-won good every day, shoulder to shoulder with the family I earned in the fire.

So if any of you young men and women are even considering a life of service—DO IT! You’ll go places that will break you open and rebuild you stronger. You’ll see things that haunt and humble you, yet sharpen your soul in ways comfort never could. And you’ll come home with brothers and sisters who aren’t just friends—they’re family forged in the hardest moments.

Don’t waste your years chasing pixels and likes. Get in the fight. Serve something bigger than yourself.

You’ll never regret it.

“The price of liberty is eternal vigilance.” ~Thomas Jefferson

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As the Voice of the Veteran Community, The Havok Journal seeks to publish a variety of perspectives on a number of sensitive subjects. Unless specifically noted otherwise, nothing we publish is an official point of view of The Havok Journal or any part of the U.S. government.