Exclusive: David B Meadows – SEAL Life & Spec Ops Mindset

Jeff: David, let’s start at the beginning. You were in the Navy and became a SEAL. What made you follow this path — why become an operator?

David B. Meadows: Hey so that’s a great question. It’s also one of the ones where it’s one of the questions I get asked all the time and it’s something that my understanding of my own self… but at the time I think, first and foremost I just really wanted to fucking go to combat. I really wanted to fight. I wanted to go into combat and I wanted to face life and death circumstances. And in addition to that, I wanted to live and have a life where people wrote books about — not me, but just in general I wanted to lead a life that people would make stories about. In short I felt like I wanted to lead a life that was guiding me to be my best and fullest. I strove for everything.

You know what — I was young. I quickly realized that normal work, working in a corporation, doing this doing that, just sounded like death. Where I wasn’t living by my own rules, where I wasn’t doing all the things to really take life by the horns and go out there and just fucking do it. In addition to that, it was a lot of insecurity and a lot of “fuck you, I’m going to prove something to the world.” In high school I did not have an easy life. I had the great fortune of having a mother that absolutely loved me — she loves me still and has done everything she possibly could for me — but we had it hard, man. I was raised by a single mother until I was 13, which is actually very common amongst backup guys. We did not have an easy life at all.

In addition to that, I was kind of the weirdo outcast. I wasn’t the popular kid. I was a tremendously good martial artist so people just kind of— you know— to prove all the haters wrong and to find a place where I could prove everybody who hated on me and doubted me and second-guessed me. Especially a place that was very much a place for that.

Jeff: That’s powerful. You mentioned BUD/S earlier — is it really as brutal as they say? Day and night drills, endurance, mentality pushed to absolute limits?

David B. Meadows: Yeah. Everyone’s experience is going to be different, but BUD/S is a fucking kick in the balls, man. I mean, that’s what it’s for. It is there to rip you out of a comfortable place that most people live in from society. Most people have no fucking clue about their own capabilities. And yeah, some people don’t realize how powerful they can actually be until this — it’s a vastly disproportionate belief in themselves. A classic tough guy who swears up and down he’s the toughest person in the room? That sort of thing — BUD/S takes no prisoners.

It’s almost like a great equalizer. Anybody can try out if you meet the criteria to get a slot, and then once you’re in, all that matters is your performance. That’s it. Can you do the job? Period. End of story. And I think that’s one of the amazing strengths about it. For me, it took me twice to actually get through it. My first time I failed drown-proofing. I went to the fleet for a year and a half, then I came back, reapplied for BUD/S, started in Class 244, started back from the beginning, did it again, did a second winter Hell Week, and went all the way through into the end of September, graduating with Class 245.

The biggest thing about BUD/S is it is a mental game no matter how physically powerful you are. I saw some people that were absolute physical gods. One dude in my class had literally won the Hawaiian Ironman before he showed up for training. That dude fell out on the second day of Hell Week—crying when he rang the bell because he was just broken so bad mentally. Even though the dude was a physical god, his mentality was weak.

It’s like Mike Tyson says: “Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the face.” That’s so true of these programs. Everyone has a plan until they’re cold and wet and tired and hurt. Then — it’s like, okay, now that the conditions are so far from optimal, where are you going to go? That’s what makes a spec ops operator: when everything is stacked against you and the plan doesn’t go correctly — when things are as far from optimal as possible — you pull it out of your ass, keep your head straight, figure out a solution, and get the job done with the tools and assets you have. That’s ultimately what makes spec ops. It’s not the physical skills. It’s staying calm, composed, forward-thinking, thinking of solutions when the chips are down. Sucks? Yeah. But that’s the point.

Jeff: You were a sniper. How did that role come your way — do you choose your specialty, or are you assigned? And the movies make snipers look like they spend days just lying in wait — is that accurate? Also, what about the tilt you sometimes see in CQB — is that real?

David B. Meadows: When you’re going through into the SEAL Teams everybody goes through the same basic phases of training: jump school, go to a team, and then you’re going to your first platoon and they’re going to put you into another training program. It’s a multi-year process of training and training and training until you actually get to deployment level. Every platoon has certain jobs and qualifications: communicators, sniper, breacher, recon guys, radio eyes, JTACs — all these things the platoon needs to be a fully operational, functional unit. So it’s a balance because different schools are liked and some are not. Most people don’t want to be at comms school or radio school because it’s not as sexy. Guys gravitate to where their acumen is and what excites them, but the platoon has needs too.

I was predominantly a sniper — recon since birth, that’s kind of where I fell into for my specialty. I went to a bunch of spooky, sneaky tracking and undercover schools. I volunteered for that because I was just a really good fucking shooter. A lot of guys wanted the door-kicking work — bust indoors and shoot people in the face — but I liked precision. The team said, “Yeah, go do that,” and that’s how I fell into it.

About tilting the gun: that predominantly comes from close quarters, like going into a house. You’re in a constant battle between accuracy, mobility, and situational awareness. Tunnel vision on your optic means you might miss something else. So you’ll see guys get off the glass a little bit and lower the gun ever so slightly so you can use your full field of vision. The other reason is that you get so good at shooting that in close ranges you don’t always need the optic; you can start firing as you’re bringing the weapon up and hit the target. Tilting the rifle helps keep your field of view open while still being deadly accurate. It’s about maximizing awareness without losing effectiveness. You do that whole coverage thing so you can fire from the hip and then bring the weapon up and be accurate.

Jeff: You’ve lived the life most people read about. On realism in film and TV — if you had to rank these for realism: Navy SEALs (Charlie Sheen), The Terminal List, SEAL Team, John Wick — how do they stack up? And do you watch movies like 13 Hours, Lone Survivor, or American Sniper?

David B. Meadows: Out of that list, by far John Wick is the most believable of everything. A guy going homicidal because his dog got killed — I don’t know a single operator who wouldn’t feel that. It’s 100% authentic in spirit. Other than that, I’d say The Terminal List is next, then SEAL Team, and then Navy SEALs. As much as I love the Charlie Sheen one, I don’t think there was a single authentic moment in that entire flick — except the fact that the SEALs were always drunk. That’s the only thing that was actually authentic about that movie.

I don’t normally watch a lot of war movies heavily recommended by guys inside the community because I look at them in such a different way. It’s hard to suspend disbelief unless someone in the community really pushes it on me or a buddy is in it. Then I might check it out.

Jeff: You jumped from real combat to stage combat. Was it difficult adjusting to being told how to hold a weapon or make a fight look cinematic — going against everything you trained for?

David B. Meadows: Yeah, that was a very difficult transition for me. I grew up training martial arts, then went on to the Teams, and later into neuroscience, psychology, and cognitive behavioral coaching for clients. There’s a saying in the Teams: “Train how you’d fight, because you’ll fight how you trained.” Neuroplasticity doesn’t know the difference between real and fake — it only knows what you repeatedly do. Muscle memory is real.

I spent so long training for effectiveness and lethality because that’s what I was training for in the real world. So when I got into the entertainment industry and people started having me fight or do movements that were tactically incorrect or physically dangerous in a real fight, my brain rang alarm bells. Training for stage fights is training the body the same way as a real fight, so if you train something wrong, it becomes your habit for a real fight. That worried the living shit out of me.

I had to do mental gymnastics to separate reality from performance. One of the hardest things is teaching yourself that movies aren’t designed to be real — they’re designed to be cinematic and entertaining. If you filmed a real room-clearing the way we did it, it would look slow and boring on screen; actors’ faces would be hidden, timeline walls would block everything. Movies need to look cool and elicit emotion. I had to embrace doing things cinematically while still honoring truth where possible. That was a big learning curve.

Jeff: Some of your early work included Bruce Willis films like Trauma Center, Acts of Violence, and 10 Minutes Gone. What was it like working on those sets?

David B. Meadows: Working with Mr. Willis — those opportunities were great. I learned a lot watching him. There’s this kind of relaxation that comes from guys who’ve done it as long as he has. Unfortunately, those movies were around when he was first starting to suffer from his illness, and I’m sure that impacted how he worked. But it’s interesting watching big stars because they have their own ways. Willis worked very differently than Tom Hanks or Daniel Radcliffe or Max. Everybody’s individualistic in their approach; it’s served them for years.

Mr. Willis liked to be flexible with lines, do what he felt at that particular second, and everyone had to be on their toes to adapt. That reminded me of theater: in theater everything is rehearsed and blocked, but on a film set you have to listen, react, and be spontaneous — it’s improv mixed with Meisner sometimes. Working with Willis taught me to rely on certain tools and to be ready to go.

Jeff: You worked with Tom Hanks on Captain Phillips — I heard Forrest Gump is one of your favorites. What was it like working with Tom, and did you talk Forrest Gump?

David B. Meadows: Man, that was legit a dream come true. It taught me to appreciate how different actors establish pacing and an atmosphere on set. On any set, the vibe is mainly created by the director and the lead. If they’re elitist or entitled, the whole crew is walking on pins and needles. But Paul Greengrass and Tom Hanks created a family-like environment that put everybody at ease. Hanks didn’t do diva shit — no green M&Ms or ridiculous riders. He only used his authority when it benefited somebody else.

Daniel Radcliffe did the same thing; I watched him stand up for a young production assistant who was getting yelled at by a department head. Seeing stars use their status to help other people rather than be divas shaped how I approach my career. Now as a producer or lead, I try to create that same atmosphere.

Jeff: Switching gears a bit — looking back on your time as a SEAL, is there a deployment that stands out, something that taught you about yourself or brotherhood?

David B. Meadows: What’s up, dude. So, for your first question — looking back at my time as a SEAL — I would say it’s the last one. I went out with Gold Squadron, DEVGRU, and I was augmenting there. I was not a signer, I was support for those dudes. What I would say is that while there were some things, what just stood out was seeing the embodiment — complete and utter embodiment — of the warrior. It certainly wasn’t about the country or any sort of things like that. It was just about the brothers. It was about the man to your left and to your right. We talked about that in the past.

One of the things that really stood out to me was when we were tragically on one of them. We had our sister platoon: so we had 32 of us and half of us got sent to one location and the other half got sent to another. The sister guys, the 16 that got sent to the location I was not there at, ended up getting into a huge gunfight. Tragically a suicide bomber blew up the entire fucking building that they were in, it collapsed immediately. Of course you can imagine the pain, the fury — all that by the guys that were here, that four or six of their brothers had just been fucking killed in a suicide explosion on an operation.

Put me on a bird right now, I’ll catch a cat nap and I’m going to land and we’re just going to blow those dudes into fucking oblivion right now. The leadership said no. In true warrior stoic fashion they said, “That is terrible. We all want to go get revenge right now, but that’s not what warriors do. That’s not what professional warriors do — they do not react purely on emotion.” That discipline and ability to both acknowledge the pain of what had happened and still choose the higher ground — intellectualism and professionalism — is something that I have taken away from my time in the Teams. I was like, “Oh my God, that’s something that the world could learn.”

Jeff: How did being in the Teams change your outlook on life? Did it ruin you for civilian life like some people say?

David B. Meadows: Yeah, I mean, it taught me everything. Seeing how incredible things can be when you have a small contingent of highly motivated, talented human beings dedicated to being the best version of themselves as a way of life — and in service, with accountability and reliability — that’s something else. You watch it and you go, “Wow.”

My mentor before I even got to the SEALs told me, “If you make it through this program and spend any amount of time operating as a SEAL, it will ruin you for life.” When I asked him why, he said, “Because you will not be able to understand or tolerate the general population’s weakness — the lack of accountability that most of the populace runs by.” He was right. It is absolutely incredible to watch people who hold complete accountability and personal ownership. They do it not for themselves necessarily, but for their brothers, and everybody wants to be the best version of themselves in support of the brotherhood.

When you see civilian life — people saying, “Yeah, well I wanted to, but something came up,” or “I just don’t feel like it today” — it’s like, “Fuck that. Just don’t do it.” People make excuses. It’s all bullshit. It becomes infectious and holds people back. Watching that happen and feeling like you’re not a part of it anymore is lonely. That’s the thing: in the Teams, no matter how aggressive or extreme you are, there’s always someone pushing you. You could be the most aggressive, driven motherfucker in the world and someone else will go, “Damn.” So you always have a place. Out here, you terrify people.

Transitioning from spec ops into civilian life is one of the hardest things. A lot of guys feel like they lack a mission or something worthy of their time and talents. After doing something like being a tier-one operator, where what you did actually mattered — saving hostages, pulling people out of cages — doing spreadsheets or internet marketing just doesn’t carry the same weight. Neurologically, your brain was conditioned for a high standard of reward and purpose, so the normal stuff doesn’t register.

What I went through was learning I couldn’t put my standards on other people anymore because I wasn’t surrounded by people who would uphold them. I needed to let that go and do the best I could for myself, surround myself with people who still maintained a standard I respected, and maintain my own professionalism and expectation. Be a little army of one. As long as I continued to walk that path of professionalism, accountability, authenticity, and growth, the right people resonate and I found a home.

Jeff: You talk a lot about the mental game. Can you explain what that actually looks like — how do operators think differently under stress?

David B. Meadows: It’s mental, yeah. You have to be a gifted athlete, there’s a lot of physical component, but it’s 90% mental. It’s universal. A large amount of what creates that is seeing things as a challenge rather than a setback. You look at every setback as an opportunity to learn and be stronger and better and move forward.

One psychological skill operators have that civilians often lack is moving through increasingly stressful circumstances and detaching from the fluff that increases stress — the stories we tell ourselves — and to treat setbacks as learning opportunities. Immediately perform better with a correction and no emotional reactivity. For example, if I’m learning to clear a house, I do a run and someone rips me: “That was terrible, you did this wrong,” etc. Instead of whining, you say, “Okay, I sucked. How am I better? Tell me X, Y, Z. Roger that.” Boom — you do it. Then they go, “Great. Do it again. Now add night vision.” You keep increasing stress and don’t need endless reps or warm fuzzies.

Most people sit back and say they need time or warm-up. They want it spoon-fed. But real spec ops training realizes most limitations are self-imposed. Someone asks, “How do you go into a building when you’re about to get into a gunfight?” The answer: the same way you did it a thousand times in training. Worrying about stress, danger, that shit only screws you up. Completely detach and walk forward. Fundamentals haven’t changed. Clarity of focus is huge.

And the truth? Anyone can train this. People say only certain people can do it — that’s a lie. People just choose not to because it’s scary. Selection separates those who can do it from those who can’t. People will scream at you, call you names, try to break you, and the response is, “Okay. How do I do it better?” Then you do it.

Jeff: If a young person came up to you and said they wanted to be in Special Ops, what would you tell them first?

David B. Meadows: I’d ask them, “Why do you want to do it?” Do some soul-searching. If you’re trying to be famous or rich or you want it for Instagram, you’re in it for the wrong fucking reason. You need to want it for service, for testing yourself, being part of something bigger, pushing your limits. This life demands real sacrifice, commitment, and willingness to be uncomfortable every day. If your “why” is ego, don’t waste your time or other people’s time.

Jeff: How did the SEAL experience shape how you handle training and correction — especially when you coach or train others now?

David B. Meadows: The operator mentality is to accept correction, act on it, and move forward without drama. We were trained to do it in a way civilians often can’t. You take feedback, you apply it, you go again. No need for validation, no softness. Then you add complexity. That’s how you create real resilience and skill. It’s not toxic; it’s efficient. That mental acuity is what I teach now when I coach former spec ops or civilians — the concepts are trainable if you’re willing to do the work.

Jeff: Anything else from your Teams days you want to make sure we include in this part?

David B. Meadows: Yeah — one more thing: don’t confuse being good with being arrogant. Being a specialist is about humility when it counts and stepping up when it matters. You keep training, you keep learning, you keep your head down and do the job. That’s it.