The Havok Journal

10/09/2025

Fundamentally law enforcement lives by the Peelian Principles. The fundamental aspect is we are the people serving our community. We are there to uphold the laws of the land and preserve the civil rights of citizens. This is the bedrock of our entire society. We must seek to be better than acceptable. We must seek to be hypervigilant to every mistake, mishap, and success. We must evaluate everything to become our best.

This happens through leadership and culture building. It means standing up when it’s not easy. It means everyone must be open to scrutiny and every action open to evaluation. It means being able to take chances and make mistakes. It means not training to “perfection” but training to failure. It is living by a creed and improving through the impossible pursuit of perfection.

With every rep of training, I felt myself kicking off the dust from the last few years. With every rep came the AAR, something I have long felt we do not It means being able to take chances and make mistakes. It means not training to "perfection" but training to failure. It is living by a creed and....

10/09/2025

On the Monday night of September 10th, 2001…

246 people slipped their paper tickets into travel jackets, zipped up suitcases, and set early alarms for morning flights. Some kissed their kids goodbye, promising to call when they landed.

2,977 people ironed shirts, packed lunches, or set the coffee pot to brew at dawn. Some helped with math homework, some argued over the TV remote, some whispered “I love you” before turning out the light.

343 firefighters folded their uniforms, kissed their families goodnight, and lay down knowing they’d answer the next call.

72 police officers placed their badges on the dresser and checked their alarms for patrol.

8 paramedics restocked their bags, ready for another morning of saving lives.

They all went to bed expecting an ordinary Tuesday.

None of them saw past 10:00 a.m., September 11, 2001.

Lest we forget.

10/09/2025

And some of us too are guilty of not seeing “the others” all around us. I knew I had PTSD issues long before I was diagnosed. Part of my war cry was the familiar “my friends and I bled for an ungrateful nation.” You know it. You have said it too. You also may still believe it. There are lots of anecdotal stories that justify our angst. I have been called baby killer, I have had to listen to stories of “military incompetence” by academics who never served anything but know how everyone else should. When I taught ROTC on college campuses I got told how the country was just wrong and the military is unnecessary.

by Joe DeCree This first appeared in "Life After War" and is republished with permission. ____________________ Do you recall the Nicole Kidman thriller Can they understand what it is to shoulder a 100 lb. ruck sack and go 25 miles in 5 hours? Not anymore than I know what it is to pack train a llama....

09/09/2025

Throughout the country, firehouses, hospitals and police stations are riddled with first responders suffering with PTSD. For many, these are normal reactions to an abnormal circumstance; but for first responders who work in a hero culture, broken bones and scars are considered battle wounds, while mental injuries are a sign of weakness. These expectations are part of the lethal equation that drive first responders, suffering with PTSD and SUD to their darkest times.

by Warriors Heart Hannah Edwards*, a Connecticut Police Officer, lives quietly with her service K9, Thor. An Army Veteran, who transitioned into the life The Unseen Demands On Our First Responders

09/09/2025

For veterans, consider revisiting the physical routines that once were a part of your daily life. You don’t need to train like you’re heading back into the field, but staying active can help maintain the discipline, strength, and mental clarity that defined your service.

UGH! It happens all the time - we often hear about mental health as if it’s a distinct entity, something separate from our overall physical health. But Why We Cannot Separate the Two

09/09/2025

For real. ;)

08/09/2025

The real challenge wasn’t in hitting the targets but in retrieving them. We waded into the stinking pond to collect our prey. The frogs lay limp, tongues and arms outstretched as if to say, “I hope your meal is worth it.” It seemed a shame to waste such awkwardly beautiful creatures for only a few hunks of meat from their hind legs. But we’d heard people say the legs would dance in the frying pan, and we wanted to see for ourselves.

The sweat in my Chicago Bulls t-shirt could no longer evaporate from my pre-pubescent body. We had just hiked what seemed like 100 miles across overgrown A humorous childhood story of hunting bullfrogs with a BB gun and fishing poles, frying their legs, and discovering they taste just like chicken.

08/09/2025

08/09/2025

Civilians tend to forget that the most battle-hardened Sergeant Major, who’s led and fought and bled through more harrowing and horrific things than they could ever imagine, is still a human. He’s got a wife who’s cheating on him and won’t let him see the kids because he’s got undiagnosed PTSD or other personality disorders such as my constant companion BPD, and kicks off when he’s had a few.

by Justin “Jud” Haywood This originally appeared in Vocal.Media as "Desert Meanderings" and is republished here with the author's permission. Justin is a My unit was The Princess of Wales Royal Regiment, the oldest line regiment in the British Army. It is a distilled essence of every regiment th...

07/09/2025

There I stood, yet again, in an all too familiar place. I stood in the haunting echoes of Taps. I watched the flawless motions of the well-rehearsed tan berets. I watched those who could speak search for the impossible words to describe a life so full. I watched those who could not speak reflect upon the life lost. I watched yet another flag get folded. I watched yet another heart wrenching solute to a wife without a husband. I needed not hear the words shared, they were already all too familiar. To thank a family for their dedication and sacrifice to our country.

There I stood. Yet again. The all too familiar.

There I stood, yet again, in an all too familiar place. I stood in the haunting echoes of Taps. I watched the flawless motions of the There I stood. Yet again. The all too familiar.

07/09/2025

Our lives are composed of the consequences of our actions, the good, the bad, and the neutral. I believe the pattern of life is for us to choose as we have free will, thus contradicting the predestined fate some believe in. Some believe fate will be what it will regardless of their actions, in essence, they cannot make choices that will ultimately change their final outcome.

by Trey Tull Our lives are composed of the consequences of our actions, the good, the bad, and the neutral. I believe the pattern of life is for us to Our lives are composed of the consequences of our actions, the good, the bad, and the neutral. I believe the pattern of life is for us to choose as w...

06/09/2025

Those lucky enough to have children have probably heard it before—“My dad isn’t scared of anything.” It’s how they see us, standing ten feet taller than everyone else.

Then came the question that caught us off guard. “What are you afraid of?” She had just met the guys from my time in Syria, and one of the girlfriends giggled, whispering that we don’t ask those kinds of questions. I glanced around, confused—not just by the question, but by the idea that there were things we weren’t supposed to ask.

“Senior, what are you afraid of?” I asked, taking her hand, a silent reassurance that even as an outsider, she belonged here.

He hesitated. “Honestly, I haven’t thought about that in a while.”

We’ve all been shot at—some in war, some in the streets we ran as kids. We’ve seen what IEDs and EFPs can do to a body. Yet sitting around the fire, no one could say what they feared.

Dying?

Being shot?

Blown up?

Watching your friends die?

The question was waved off. The fire faded to embers, conversations to murmurs, steps to stumbles. We said our goodbyes, dragging each other to truck beds and passenger seats.

Senior carried me to the car, his grip firm in a final embrace. “Clay,” he said softly. I looked up. “I’m scared of the ones I didn’t bring home. That I wasn’t good enough.”

Collapsed in my seat, I whispered, “I’m scared I’ll never be enough to make up for what I’ve done.” Her eyes welled with tears, the weight of fear settling in—the kind that lingers, unspoken and heavy, the kind that changes how you see the world forever.

It makes us human. It’s the weight we carry, the reminder that we care, that we still have something to fight for. Fear means we have people we love, responsibilities we hold, and memories that refuse to fade. It’s not the absence of fear that makes us strong, but the ability to face it—and to keep moving forward despite it.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s what truly defines us—not the battles we’ve fought, but the ones we continue to fight within ourselves.

“Courage is fear holding on a minute longer.” – Patton Those lucky enough to have children have probably heard it before—“My dad isn’t scared of A powerful reflection on fear, resilience, and the hidden battles veterans face, exploring how true courage is not the absence of fear but the ...