Gary ONeal - American Warrior: The True Story of a Legendary Ranger

The author and publisher have provided this e-book to you for your personal use only. You may not make this e-book publicly available in any way. Copyright infringement is against the law. If you believe the copy of this e-book you are reading infringes on the authors copyright, please notify the publisher at: us.macmillanusa.com/piracy.

I would like to dedicate this book to those people who trained me, to those people I trained, and all of those brave men and women who have sacrificed all in defense of Americas freedoms.

Especially to the woman who put things right in my life and who enabled me to come home, Jo D. McEwan, with my love and appreciation.

CONTENTS

FOREWORD

After reading this chronicle of escapades, and having known Gary ONeal and his legend for quite some time now, I can honestly say that perhaps one of the hardest things in life to be is Gary ONeal. Only to be superseded by being his friend or in most cases his commander.

To some people he is a myth, like the illustrious Corporal Steiner in the Willie Heinrich novel about German soldiers on the Eastern Front in World War II, The Cross of Iron. Hes that wild man who always seems to survive, often with physical injuries and always with a slightly greater irreverence for command. To others he is the person they hear, fear, and tell tales about, yet they dont really know him or do they really want to.

Now consider this of the citizens in the United States, only 1 percent voluntarily joins the armed forces, for whatever reason. Of that number only 1 percent joins the ranks of the Special Operations community. The top 1 percent of that group makes it in the ranks of the super soldiers in the Joint Special Operations Command (JSOC). Then there are the individuals like Gary ONeal.

As far as history, ONeal is the first former member of the Army Golden Knights Parachute Team to gain entry into the Ranger Hall of Fame. Then again hes been a first for many things, so dont even get me started. All kidding aside, ONeal is one fine piece of work. Hes an inspiration to many, and he just wont quit, although I hear that hes been slowing down some lately.

He could be the biblical Caska of this generation; doomed by Jesus to wander the earth aimlessly, always as a soldier, until the Second Coming, but for certain he is the Quintessential American Warrior: Airborne, Ranger, Special Forces, bloodied in combat at the age of fifteen, with a blood line that begins with the Lakota Sioux Indian tribe and a heraldry that includes the lodge poles of Black Elk, Red Cloud, Crazy Horse, and Sitting Bull.

Since Maryland was settled in the colonial times of the seventeen hundreds, a member of the ONeal clan has taken up arms and fought for this country in every conflict, almost timely, like rites of passage. The ONeal clan merged with the Lakota Sioux when Garys father returned well decorated from World War II and married into the South Dakota tribe. That made ONeal a mixed blood to the elders of the tribe. These same elders removed that stigma and welcomed him as a warrior after he proved his spirit in the performance of the sun dance.

To really know ONeal is to recognize that the only thing he lacks in life is a formal education and probably for the best. He certainly would have intimidated his officers and commanders even more if he would have quoted Shakespeare or any of the great philosophers in Latin or Greek, while debriefing a combat operation or teaching a class on silent killing. One simple axiom has guided his life: If it sounds stupid but it works then it isnt stupid especially if it will get you out of a jam or save lives in combat.

From his childhood to his teens, through his young adult and adult life ONeal has lived only one way, the hard way, in the face of danger, full speed ahead. He has always and forever pushed himself to the edge, pegging the torque on his pitch to the red line. A few times hes gone over the edge, but he has always made it back, not always in one piece. Above all he has never failed to Charlie Mikecontinue the missionand never has he failed a comrade in battle.

This book is his story. It is easy to read but dont you dare attempt any of his antics at home or in training, at least, not without his supervision or his blessing. The era of combat he has survived spans forty years and takes place on every continent in the known world. Many talk the talk but only Gary ONeal has walked the walk around the world.

President John F. Kennedy. The father of the Green Berets, once said, The time has come to pass the torch to a new generation. It is my hope that ONeals life, his story, and this book serves as a legacy and primer that motivates the next generation of Americans to Ranger Up and take on the enemies of this great nation. Anything, anytime, anywhere; ONeal wouldnt want it any other way.

Gary ONeals commitment to life and for the rest of his life is to do just that; teach those who want to learn, talk to those who will listen, and for the few who dare, push them to their outer limits where, who dares, wins. He will guide them to follow in his footsteps, sua sponte, so they can blaze their own trail, then, like all good Rangers Lead the Way!

John K. Sinlaub

Major General, U.S. Army (Ret.)

PREFACE

MEMORIAL DAY 2010 AT ARLINGTON NATIONAL CEMETERY IN WASHINGTON, D.C., was a beautiful, sunny day. A nice young lady was standing at the front gate, and as each person entered, she handed them two roses. There was a big box right next to her, and she was reaching down and taking the roses out of that box. Two at a time. When she handed me my two roses, I stopped there and I smiled and I said politely, Excuse me, mam, but youd better give me that whole box. I got a lot of friends here.

PROLOGUE

OCTOBER 1978, NICARAGUA

I had lost all comprehension of time. I could have been hanging up there in that barn for two days or two weeks. They had tied my hands behind my back and then they lifted me up and slipped the rope over a hook. Then they dropped me down. Both my shoulders were yanked right out of their sockets, my shoulder blades pressed down on my lungs. It didnt matter. I was beyond the physical pain anyway. They asked me all kinds of questions about different people; but I didnt believe their intention was to get information, they wanted to torture me. This was punishment. Nothing more. This was their vengeance for what Somozas army had done to them. Their desire was to make me sufferand they did. They took me to extremes.

Sometimes people would come into the barn and beat up on me. They figured I was never leaving that barn, so they didnt take care to hide their faces. I saw them all, I knew what they looked like. I remembered.

I went in and out of consciousness. I focused on the techniques Id been teaching people about how to resist interrogation. Rather than trying to resist the pain, I accepted it, absorbed it, and controlled it. I knew that the most important thing I could do was keep the pain from cluttering my mind. If I allowed the pain to become so intense that I couldnt focus on anything else, I was done. With my shoulders collapsed I couldnt breathe very well, I could only take short breaths, but I was still able to release some of the pain through my breathing. I could imagine it, encapsulate it, and project it out.

They beat me regularly. If I didnt answer their questions they would hit me, butt stroke me with the back of their AKs, slap me, and smack my shins with boards. If I did mumble some kind of made-up answer, they still hit me. They were enjoying this, and they wanted to keep me alive as long as possible. When the pain got too intense, I forced myself to focus on positive images rather than dwelling on it. This was the one time all those breathing exercises I had been doing through the years really paid off. When I could, I let my spirit soar free and away, as I had been taught by the elders. I projected myself outside of my body, leaving that pain behind me. I tried to be somewhere else. I looked into the fire, just as I had done growing up on my grandfathers farm.