I grew up in Albuquerque, New Mexico—a place best known for the shows Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul. Like many Americans, my family had its share of problems. I was five when I last saw my dad. After a series of run-ins from dealing drugs, he became a federal fugitive. Five years later, he was arrested and sentenced to decades in prison. My mom did her best, but it wasn’t easy for her with two young kids and no college education.
As a teenager, I searched for purpose and direction. I admired athletes and began to spend my days in the gym with a group of hulking football players. My main aim was to get bigger and stronger, to build a suit of armor against life. When I was 19 and a wandering first-generation college student, one of my gym buddies introduced me to Mac.
A former college fullback and Marine Corps pilot, Mac was different. Then in his late 20s, he was already a successful real estate developer. I will never forget Mac’s statement that when you go through Marine Corps basic training, you graduate a different person. His enthusiasm and encouragement led me to find a recruiter and run the paperwork gauntlet to earn a shot at becoming a Marine Corps officer.
I spent my 20th birthday at Marine Corps Officer Candidates School (OCS). We did PT every morning right after breakfast, which I would skip so I wouldn’t throw up on myself. I lost 20 pounds, but by graduation I could run three miles in under 18 minutes. We were a group from everywhere, and the shared suffering brought us together. Our instructors made sure we knew it was our job to prove we could earn the title. Improbably, of the 48 original members of my platoon, 11 would become Marine lawyers after graduation. One of my new buddies, Josh from Ohio, told me of his plan to go to law school and suggested I consider it. I went to OCS intending to be an infantry officer and left wanting to be a judge advocate.
Those of us still serving today, 24 years later, are now senior field grade officers. We still remember 9/11. The post-9/11 era has shaped our existence. I finished my fourth deployment in 2024, during a chaotic period in the Middle East. I have traveled to 13 countries in uniform, spent time at sea with the Navy, and served alongside hundreds of patriots. I have held many different roles—not only as a lawyer, but also as a leader.
Not everyone in my OCS platoon is still around. The Josh who helped me get into law school tragically died of brain cancer in 2015 after an impressive early career following his graduation from the University of Virginia Law School. Another of our platoon mates, a different Joshua, was one of the first killed in action in 2003. We cherish their memories and seek to honor their legacies.
The military’s competitive advantage is creating leaders. The secret of military recruiting is that it brings disparate people together for a common purpose that requires shared sacrifice—which builds bonds. The military changes you. It makes you uncomfortable. It forces you to do things that are dangerous, difficult, and undefined. And in the process, it makes you a better person. It gives you life skills, honorable convictions, and life-long community.
Young Americans today still want a uniquely noble calling filled with challenge and meaning. Military recruitment offers that.
