At midnight, we posted two men to guard the boats as the rest of us left the cold darkness outside to enter the bright warmth of the Naval Amphibious Base cafeteria.

With the flick of a mental switch, I turned off Hell Week. Forget about what happened and forget about what will happen. Enjoy the cafeteria, now—these moments are too few and far between to waste.

SEAL instructors had told us that most guys lose weight during Hell Week, so I focused on being special. I got in the chow line and loaded my plate. Navy food is excellent: chicken adobo from the Philippines, yakisoba from Japan, steak, lobster… During Hell Week we got four meals a day. We called the midnight meal, "midrats," short for midnight rations. Rather than prepare a separate meal, the cooks heated up leftovers from the evening meal. But even the Navy's leftovers are better than a lot of meals I've eaten. From behind the counter, a Filipina with almond-shaped eyes and a warm smile served my plate of hot food—seeing her made me feel alive, again.

Some guys drank coffee, but I was never a coffee drinker. Steam rose from my water and meal. The warm mug thawed my numb hands. A sandy puddle of seawater formed around my feet. Piss and sweat—we smelled like swamp monsters. (The Hell Week pace is so busy that most of us only had time to piss ourselves—which also served as a moment of warm relief from the cold.)

During the meal, some guys talked, and some stayed quiet. I couldn't understand how the talkers had the energy to jack their jaws, but it was probably better to expend the energy talking to others than feeling sorry for oneself in solitude. I was one of the quiet ones, focused on enjoying the moment: peace, light, warmth... Some guys ate like wolves and others nibbled like rabbits. I was one of the wolves. The rabbits would suffer later when their fuel tanks hit empty.

A group of SEAL instructors ate at a separate table. They wouldn't harass us unless one of us fell asleep.

After about a thirty-minute meal, we got ready to head back out into the dark cruel world. With the flick of a mental switch, I turned off the cafeteria. Hell Week on. Suddenly, the bell rang, and we lost another guy. I was too zoned into Hell Week to think about him or his reasons why. Although now I wish I could remember his face or his name, I can’t.