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This is the latest chapter in the new SEAL adventure I’m currently writing: Navy SEAL Spartan 16. I thought I’d add a little clarification on my choice of adding a women to compete for SEAL training in the book.

Mabus: Review of women joining SEALs on track
Sep. 30, 2014 – 06:00AM
By Meghann Myers
Staff Writer
A U.S. Special Operations Command report on integrating women into the elite Navy SEAL community was due back in July, but officials aren’t able to confirm whether it’s been completed or when leadership will be briefed. Still, the service is on track to make a final decision about admitting women to the teams by 2016, said the service’s top civilian. And it’s an effort he supports.
“In my opinion, if people meet the qualifications, I don’t think gender should matter,” Navy Secretary Ray Mabus said in a meeting with reporters on Tuesday.
Mabus, who has made expanding womens’ opportunities across the force one of his hallmarks, said he hasn’t heard any updates on the study’s progress. A spokesman for Naval Special Warfare said he had no updates on the report, either, and representatives for SOCOM did not immediately return calls for comment.
When the Navy, in 2013, began opening up the last jobs closed to female sailors, women were on track to be able declare their intent to join NSW in boot camp or at officer selection by fall 2015. This would put them on track to join SEAL teams or Special Warfare Combatant Crewman units by January 2016.
The move toward fully integrating women into all communities across the armed services began to gather momentum in February 2012 when former Defense Secretary Leon Panetta announced the Defense Department would allow women to be assigned to select positions in ground combat units at the battalion level, opening more than 14,000 billets to women across the services. In January 2013, Panetta andChairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff Gen. Martin Dempsey announced the recission of the direct ground combat exclusion rule, a move unanimously supported by the Joint Chiefs.
Then in June 2013, Dempsey submitted the Navy’s implementation plan to Congress, with provisions for a 2014 SOCOM study into special warfare integration.
“What Secretary Panetta said when he signed the thing was, the presumption is that everything will open unless there’s a specific reason for it to be closed,” Mabus said Tuesday.
Although Mabus said he didn’t know if the study had been completed by the July 1 deadline, he reiterated that NSW is now the last community closed to women; the Coastal Riverine Force and attack submarine community opened to women within the past year.
“The thing I keep saying about SEALs, about special warfare, is 80 percent of men don’t make it,” he said. “So we know what the standards are. If you can make it, I don’t see where gender has much of a place.”
The Navy opened up 267 riverine billets to women in March of this year, adding 21 more potential billets for the joint terminal attack controller enlisted classification in September.
Meanwhile, the Navy is working out the logistics for putting enlisted women on attack submarines. In January 2015, the first female attack sub officers will report to the Virginia and Minnesota.

I feel that women will add greatly to the SEAL community and my fiction book will show that. Things are rapidly changing in this world we live in. If you are open minded and progressive in your view about this reality you will agree that a balanced world will be a better world.





Helen glanced up at the roof of Halsey Field House where they continued their PRT. The intensity of the rain had picked up and pounded on the domed roof like fists hammering at it. The coal black clouds blotted out all light in Halsey. Other than the overhead computerized lighting system that automatically adjusted to provide ample light, it was dark and threatening outside. Thunder hammered loudly, causing the building to reverberate from the noise. Several midshipmen reflexively ducked and shot worried looks up to see whether the roof was still intact or not.

The Halsey Field House was a multi-purpose arena with a seating capacity of 5,000 people. First opened in 1957 it was named after former alumni, lettering football fullback and Fleet Admiral William “Bull” Halsey, a WWII Navy commander and hero. Helen marveled at the newly reopened indoor multipurpose gym gleaming with new state of the art equipment. It had been part of a multiyear modernization program implemented for all the Naval academies sports facilities. The massive building was capable of multiple sporting events at one time. Right now, she was either going to make her PRT scores and get a shot at BUD/s or not.

”Form a line on the two hundred meter indoor field track after I call out your name!” Stapleton hollered. They all moved as a group over to the synthetic track with several running lanes for competition sporting events.  It encircled the entire regulation sized basketball court. The basketball team was just finishing with their drills and was heading exhausted and sweat drenched, to the locker rooms. The SEAL PST midshipmen passed them and exchanged high fives with some of the players. The sound of hands exchanging slaps against each other was the only sound and reverberated upwards toward the mammoth ceiling until they were absorbed by its immensity.

“Go!” Monroe shouted to the first runner. Simultaneously, he thumbed the stopwatch button.

It was starting to rain so hard again on the roof seventy feet above them that Helen could barely hear Stapleton call out the order to start running.  She glanced over at him and he had a smirk on his face.

Stapleton could barely hide his contempt. “And the last place runner will be Midshipman Kennedy.”

Helen knew to keep her face expressionless.  She’d learned it the hard way in her plebe year when she allowed her anger to show. It had gotten her in a lot of trouble and she had vowed to not let her hair-trigger anger jeopardize her ambitions to become a SEAL. She ignored him and jogged in place to warm up her legs, focused on the mental preparation.

Helen was last in line as each runner was started at twenty-second intervals. “Go!” Monroe called to her.

She felt good and warmed up after all the physical activity. The muscles in her long, lean legs contracted as she landed on her heel and pushed off the toe in her black lightweight Bates boots. She matched the rhythm of her breathing to that of her stride.

I’m going to have to dig deep on this run and beat the competitive time of 9:30 to make a good impression. I was barely able to knockout fourteen pull-ups! Her muscles had shaken uncontrollably, as if she were trapped in a major earthquake.  She’d collapsed off the bar just inches from her fifteenth pull-up.  Helen knew it had been her passion to become a SEAL that was responsible for her pit bull tenacity to get those fourteen pull-ups. Her own family regarded her as a loose thread, or worse, little more than a nuisance. Her brothers had been doted upon and cherished by her parents so much that it made Helen nauseous just to think about it.

The anger that she wasn’t important to her family made her dig deeper and push harder. Her breath was coming in tearing gasps sweat running down her temples. Salt from her sweat burned her eyes and she squinted and swiped at the sweat with her hand, cursing the distraction. She commanded herself, Faster! She passed several of the midshipmen in front of her. One lap left, and she pushed harder than she ever had for any competitive run.

Competitive sports had been her outlet for years to focus and channel her rage. Sprint to the end!

“9:25,” Monroe called out.

Helen felt dejected. She had beat what was considered the competitive time of 9:30 by only five seconds.

She did a cool down lap while the other runners checked in their times before she stood broke down to a trot and then got in line with the rest of her friends.

Dirty met her as she moved into the line. “How did you do?”  He had already given his time and stopped by to check on Helen.

“I got 9:25 how ‘bout you?” Helen asked between gasps of breath.

“That’s a great time! I got a time of 8:51,” Dirty said proudly.

“Not bad for a big guy she congratulated,” grinning up at him between breaths. She was starting to calm down from the exertion.

“Speed sprints during football practice makes a big difference,” he said as he wiped the sweat from his face with a white towel.

“I’ve only been running in boots a couple of weeks, so I should be able to get my times down more after I’ve had more practice,” Helen said, a little worry in her tone.

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask you to run with me after classes but you’re always on the run it seems,” and he smiled, giving her a questioning look to see if she was interested in taking him up on his invite.

“Sure you’re okay if a girl beats you?” Helen teased, giving him a mischievous smile.

“I’m okay with it, but you won’t beat me,” Dan said with a challenging glint in his eyes.

Helen’s smile faded.  “I’m going to be the first, Mr. Dirty Dan,” she promised him lightly. She could feel her competitive nature rising in her.  Dan was a good friend, but when she was in competition, she’d let her speed convince him.

Dan’s brown eye’s narrowed, picking up the spirit of the contest. “I like a good competition,” he said with smile.

“Good,” Helen said, enjoying the competitiveness in Dirty’s narrowing eyes. “Four o’clock at Rip Miller Field.” She absorbed his warrior-like stare with one of her own.  He had no idea how deep she could reach within herself in order to succeed. A saucy smile tugged at her lips and Dirty suddenly cracked up, laughing.  Helen laughed with him. Her stomach hurt and her smile faded and she got serious with him.

“I’ve heard that several of the midshipmen are wagering I’ll never make it to SEAL training,” Helen muttered under her breath. “Have you heard about it?”

Dirty’s brows drawing downward, anger glinting in his eyes,  “Yeah.”  And then he gave her an evil smile.  “I’ve got five different bets of twenty dollars each riding on you to make it all the way to SEAL training, Helen.  That’s what I think of those guys betting against you.”

Her heart warmed toward her friend who idolized her.

“What about making it through BUD/S training?” she asked, eyeing him closely for his reaction.

His mouth drew into a wry grin. “As a matter of fact, I’ll take my winnings after your selection to BUD/S training and double down. Does that answer your question?  When you make it through BUD/S, I’ll be a rich man from all my winnings.”

“How can you be so sure?” Helen demanded, her brow crinkling. Her parents and brother did not believe in her at all.  Why did he?   She desperately needed someone in her corner to cheer her on and Dirty stepped willingly into that role with her.  It was easy for Helen to look up to the midshipman because he did believe in her. She stared at his big shoulders and thought he could easily take the weight of all the snide remarks he must be carrying for backing her bid for BUD/S.

“I look at you and just know,” Dirty said, giving a shrug. “My parents taught me to listen to my heart, and it tells me you’ll succeed, Helen. I’ve learned to trust it and it never lets me down. Besides, look at you,” he said, pointing at her, his big light brown eyes dancing with laughter. “You look like a Valkyrie. Honest to God, you do.”

“A Valkyrie? I’ve been called a lot of things, but never that.”

“Yes, Valkyries were Viking female figures that chose which warriors died and which would survive the battle. When I look at you, for some reason a scene from the movie. ‘Apocalypse Now,’ pops into my head,” he said, pointing to his brow.

“You’re thinking of the scene where American troops in the Viet Nam war ride into battle on helo’s while Wagner’s ‘Ride of the Valkyrie’s’ blares from loudspeakers right?” Helen asked.

“That’s it! And since you’re a Valkyrie, I would want you on my side so that I would have a better chance surviving that battle.”  He waggled his brows, his mouth stretching into a huge smile.  “You’d let me live to see another battle, Helen.  I know you would.”

“All right,” she said, chuckling, “I see the logic. If I had the power of your fate, noble warrior, you’re right, I would grant you victory in battle.   Always.” Helen lifted an invisible sword in her hands and Dirty knelt down on one knee, playing along with the charade. He bowed his head. With her sword in her right hand held high, she lowered it in a regal manner and knighted him on both shoulders.

Helen knew Dirty had always been in awe of her and maybe now, she was beginning to understand why. He saw her as a badass warrior. If only she could trade her two older brothers in for Dirty.  At least he liked her, respected her and genuinely enjoyed being around her.  Most of all Dirty supported and encouraged her, believing that she could do it all.

“Thank you my lady,” Dirty said, rising, his grin silly.  “ By your leave, I must now go and wash my smelly self.”

Helen laughed. “I’ll see you later, Sir Dirty Dan,” she called out after him. “Congratulations!”

Dirty nodded grinning, lifted a hand good-bye in her direction and started for the locker room where most of the other midshipmen were heading.

Helen sighed and got with the program. She was the last to report to Stapleton and automatically tensed inwardly as she gave him her times for the run. Stapleton looked up after scribbling her time down in the logbook. Looking around to see that they were alone, he snarled, “What exactly do you think your doing, Third Class Kennedy?”

Helen saw the malevolence in his dark green eyes. It was like he was trying to suck the energy out of her, but she would have none of that and stared fearlessly back at him. “I’m positioning myself for a possible slot if they approve women for combat positions for SEAL’s, sir.”

Stapleton rear back and then he roared with laughter. “Fat chance they’ll ever do that Kennedy,” and he shook his head and snapped the book shut with finality. He turned his back on her and walked away.

Helen felt her rage skyrocket within her.  She bit her lower lip. The arrogant bastard!  Stapleton strutted around like the barnyard cock he was. Flushed, wanting to lash out, Helen muttered under her breath, instead. She swore she would prove to all the jerks like Stapleton that women could be SEAL’s. Damn right she was going to.

A tremendous crack of thunder sounded outside, reminding Helen it sounded like giants above her clashing cymbals together. The lightning flash from King Neptune’s bolt lit up the night. It was so intense that it momentarily brightened the cavernous field house. The sound echoed through the building, the vibration shaking her before it finally faded. The rain came down once more, a heavy pounding across the domed roof as if a resounding applause. At least, that’s how Helen took it and she smiled a little.

Helen picked up her gear bag.  All of the practice and sporting events were now over and the maintenance man walked over to the main breaker box and switched off the large overhead lighting. A loud metallic clack reverberated off the seventy-foot high walls in the stillness. Darkness poured through the building behind the last of the light rays from the overhead lights. Only the exit lights were visible as they cast an ominous red light across the empty gymnasium.  She hurried toward an exit, not excited about getting drenched by the downpour waiting for her outside.

Doug Stapleton sauntered over to LT James who was watching the performance with a grin on his face like a proud father.  “Here are the PST results, sir.”

The steady background hum of the bagpipe sounded cheerfully off the high marble walls of Memorial Hall. Massive crystal chandeliers winked and glowed with warm light overhead as the steady beat of a drum kept time for the kilted dancers. Scottish basket hilted broad swords flashed in the flickering electric candlelight, adding to the ambience of the ancient ritual dance.

The glittering steel of the long broad swords were thrust and slashed up and down as the men and women midshipmen danced and spun for hundreds of cheering and clapping midshipmen. The dancers would not have looked out of place if they had been transported back in time to the seventeenth century and had performed in a Scottish castle.

“Thank you for being prompt, Stapleton,” James said as he took the green logbook and turned casually to the PST results.

Stapleton turned his head towards the dancers as the LT seemed intent and focused with analyzing the scores.

“How do you think they did overall Stapleton?” James demanded as he scanned the figures.

“Sorry, sir?” Stapleton dragged his interest in the dance back to the SEAL officer.

James gave him a hard look.  “I shouldn’t have to repeat my question, Stapleton.  How do you think the Youngster’s did in the PST?”

“I think they did well overall, sir,” Stapleton stumbled, his face flushing red.

“But, there’s something else?” James prodded, reading Stapleton’s hesitation as a sign of an issue he wasn’t talking about.

“Yes sir,” he said, wrestling to keep the anger out of his tone, “there’s something else. The female in the group.”

James held on to his deteriorating patience with the firstie who seemed far more interested in the Scottish dancing than discussing these numbers with him.  He saw Stapleton’s anger in his eyes and heard it in his voice.  “Midshipman Kennedy?”  He hoped like hell Stapleton was not prejudice because if he was, it going to piss him off royally.

“Yes, sir, I don’t understand why she’s being allowed to participate.”  Stapleton’s voice grew deprecating. “Obviously, women will never have what it takes to make it through BUD/S.”

Anger threaded through James, his jaw tightening as he stared at Stapleton’s arrogant face.  “I see,” he growled.  “Come to attention, Mr. Stapleton,” he snapped.

Stapleton’s eyes widened for a split second over the unexpected, snarling command and he suddenly braced, eyes straight ahead, sweat popping out on his brow.

James held on to his deteriorating anger as he leaned inches from the Midshipman’s terrified face.  “Stapleton, throughout history some of the best warrior cultures also trained their women to fight in combat. The Spartan women were renowned for their athletic and martial skills and actually defended the capital at one time against invasion from a force that had defeated the men. Viking women fought alongside the men in the shield wall.  Scottish women, as you see here were trained in the use of the sword through dance movements. They defended the home while their men went off to war. Behind every great warrior culture were women trained in combat arts and supportive of their men. History is replete with famous women warriors that were as fierce and often more feared than their male counterparts.”  James stopped biting off every word, spatting at Stapleton who was wincing visibly.  He eased away from the little shit, taking in several deep breaths to calm himself.

“Yes, sir,” was all Stapleton squeaked after almost a minute of tense silence. He stared up at LT James’s forehead in his best, detached military parade ground look.

The pipe melody wafted high into the domed rotunda with its chandeliered skylight that allowed starlight through as the clouds thinned from the passing storm.

James gripped the log book in his large hand until his knuckles whitened, his voice still a low snarl.  “In BUD/S everyone is given an equal opportunity, Stapleton. How would you like it if I discussed your inability to acknowledge your peers with the respect they deserve with some of my friends at BUD/S?”

“I wouldn’t like that, sir. I see your point, and will adjust my attitude, sir.” Stapleton’s voice was without any emotion and his face absolutely expressionless. His beady green eyes stared straight ahead as if he were one of the undead.

James didn’t like the man’s small, beady looking eyes.  They were close set together, giving him nearly a cross-eyed look.  Those beads of sweat had grown in size across Stapleton’s narrow forehead.  Clenching his teeth, he hissed, “Dismissed.”

“Yes, sir!” Stapleton said, making a snappy about face, he marched out of the hall.

Trevor felt like he was going to explode, his anger white hot.  This little turd, high on his own power as a firstie, wasn’t going to be the kind of Naval officer he’d ever want to work under.  He took another deep breath and let it out slowly. He told himself nothing got his attention faster than a bigot. They were self-serving and rarely made good teammates.  Stapleton’s type was always looking for how others could serve their own interests, rather than focusing their own talent into the greater good of the Teams effort.  He clenched his fist and then forced himself to loosen it and relax.

He had a lot of time in grade with SEALs and Stapleton, if he ever made it out of BUD/S as an officer, would impact his team.  He would taint the men and women beneath his command.  Trevor could only imagine sending Stapleton into a country where his bigoted attitude might impact local teambuilding operations with foreign counterparts.  He silently promised that when the opportune time came, he was going to have a conversation with the knucklehead about his attitude.  Because there was no room in James’ world of SEALs that an officer like this would ever survive BUD/S, let alone, become an officer in a Team. Not on his watch.

Trevor pulled out a small black phone and hit a speed dial button and waited for the call to be answered.

“Hello” a voice answered

“This is LT James from the Naval Academy.” His kept his tone calm and professional. “The Admiral gave me specific orders to call him immediately after I received information regarding test results,” he told McCafferty’ personal aid.

“One moment, sir.”

Trevor waited patiently.  After a moment, a Texas drawl said, “ LT James, what news do you have?”

“Admiral, Ms. Kennedy did well enough in the PST to move forward to the Mini Hell Week here at the academy next spring.” He tried to keep the excitement out of his voice, knowing the admiral would enjoy the news.  Technically, he should have emotions about it one way or another, but dammit, he believed women could become good operators.

“Excellent.  Keep me in the loop as she progresses, LT James.”

“Yes, sir, I will.  Good-bye.”

Admiral Joseph McCafferty’ aid, Commander Kent, came over to his desk with another phone to his ear. He covered the mouthpiece and said in a hurried hushed tone, “Admiral, the plane with the battle wounded from Afghanistan has just touched down in Germany.”

“How are the men?” the admiral asked, concerned voice.  Any time his men were wounded, he wanted to be kept on top of it.

“They’re all stable, sir,” the SEAL commander answered.

“Good,” he said, relief filtering through him  “What did we find out about the explosion that took out Chief Wilkens?”  No one knew but he had a special spot in his heart for this Navy SEAL chief.  He’d lost his only son four years ago when Connor jumped on a grenade to save his fellow SEAL teammates during a firefight in Iraq.  His son that had given up a spot at the Naval Academy and enlisted directly into the Navy, becoming a SEAL right after 9/11. Jake Wilkens reminded him of his own son and although this man didn’t know he held a special spot in his heart, Joe was going to shadow his career and help him where and when he could.  He was Jake’s mentor although he didn’t know he had one and that’s how mentoring worked in the ranks.

“The explosion shattered the chief’s kneecap was from a five hundred pound JDAM dropped by an F-16, Admiral. The twelve rangers and two CAG operators that were also wounded had been under threat of being chewed up by enemy fire that had to be immediately suppressed. The SEAL Team Six operators didn’t receive the bombing run information as they ran into the firefight to help CAG and the Rangers.”

The Admiral digested the information. “Keep me informed of the operators progress after their surgeries, especially Chief Wilkens’ progress and prognosis, Commander Kent.

“Yes, sir.”

I’ve potentially got big plans for that young man, the Admiral thought.  Joe left his office.  He stood up, walking around his desk.  Outside he knew there was a perfectly manicured lawn of green grass and tall palm trees surrounded the non-descript two-story concrete building with no windows. On top of the building was a large array of antennas and satellite dishes that could communicate with secure operations anywhere in the world. The Special Operations control center for the United States Special Operations Command sat on MacDill Air force Base in Tampa, Florida, was one of the most high tech buildings on the planet.

Moving his fingers through his silver and black short hair, Admiral McCafferty continued to slowly pace around his desk.  For over twenty-four hours all their high tech equipment had been abuzz tracking and analyzing information from the battle for Zawahiri and his Taliban insurgents. Large flat screen TV’s on the walls mapped the path of the battle and the battle damage. The number of enemy forces that had been killed was in red and was continually being updated. The number currently stood at 178. Most of that number was located in the cave, but across the battlefield space were other dark red numbers. Fourteen green numbers and one blue were all located together close to the thick black line delineating the border of Pakistan and Afghanistan.  And that was where Chief Wilkin’s had been wounded, along with many others.  McCafferty softly cursed the damn lapse of communication, hating friendly fire wounded and casualties.

Helen raced through a shower in the women’s locker room and emerged from an entrance just as the storm was clearing the immediate area. The darkness was transformed by soft light as Helen looked up and saw a beautiful crescent moon revealed from behind quickly moving clouds.  Powerful emotions swept through her as she absorbed the sight.  She loved the shape of that moon.

She hurried through the darkness of the yard to Memorial Hall to thank LT James for the opportunity to participate in the SEAL PST.  It was her way to be inclusive and build working relationships and bring groups of people together as a constructive team. Most women she had known were team builders in this regard because creating families was in their DNA.

A hoot of an owl sounded close to her in the darkness. She looked up when the moon light in front of the sidewalk was interrupted by its shadow it flew over her head.   Helen was sure the owl lived in the rafters of one of the rarely used buildings on the yard.

The bell in the tower clock over the chapel began to chime the hour. The sound filled the damp air and Helen could feel the tension of its ring reverberate through her body. In a crypt beneath the chapel were the remains of the Scottish American Captain John Paul Jones of Revolutionary war fame. Every time Helen heard the chapel’s bells she thought of his famous words of reply to a British officer’s taunt to surrender, “I have not yet begun to fight!”

She noticed Stapleton was walking quickly towards her on the same path. His fists were clenched by his side and were not swinging with his natural gait, as was normal for an American man. He became aware of her and shot her a look of pure hatred. Helen held his gaze unperturbed as they past each other. If a look can kill then he is trying his best right now.

Neither of them broke stride while continuing to look over their shoulder at each other.

I’ve had practice at this with both my brothers and I don’t back down sleazeball!

Stapleton broke eye contact first and walked even more quickly away from her, as if wanting to rid himself of her presence faster.

That guy needs a serious attitude adjustment!

Helen rounded the corner and crossed over the parade court with the statue of the wise American Indian chief Tecumseh silently watching her.  She hurriedly walked across the wet stone steps leading up to Memorial Hall.

I hope I’m not too late.

She looked right as she mounted the steps at her favorite ornate bronze cannon on the yard named “Mars” after the god of war. Her footfall reverberated and echoed off the dimly lit granite walls of the surrounding five story buildings.

Helen heard the last of the drumming and bagpipe martial music as it came to a halt. The upper hall erupted in thunderous cheers and applause.   She entered seeing LT James’ group of Scottish Highland dancers smiling ear to ear as they sheathed their swords. Their chests heaved up and down from the exertion of the dance. Sweat glistened on faces. They all took off their wool caps that dated back to the seventeenth century and bowed to the adoring crowd.

Helen saw LT James as she broached the top of the stairs into Memorial Hall. She saw that he had a smile from ear to ear. Their eyes met and he gave her the thumbs up.

He knows I passed! she thought, ecstatic.. I’m going to show these men that a woman can be a SEAL!

Spartan 16 Chapter 4

In this chapter of the upcoming SEAL Team Spartan 16 fiction novel I introduce a second major character named Helen Kennedy. She will eventually make it through SEAL training as the first female SEAL and be drafted by the main character Jake into a new, high speed, high tech SEAL team.


Chapter 4

“Lieutenant, James, sir, I’d like to request a chance to try out for one of the slots for SEAL Training,” Helen said, trying to keep the excitement out of her voice. As a Naval Academy cadet, she stood at attention in front of him, keeping her expression serious.   Never had Helen wanted anything more.  LT James, as he was known around the Academy, was a vaunted SEAL.  And she’d finally sought him out, hearing he was on campus.  It had taken her some time and she was out of breath after jogging between buildings after shouted directions from another cadet who’d seen him earlier. God, please let him say yes!  She moistened her lips, remaining at strict attention.

Lieutenant Trevor James stopped in mid-stride and turned back towards her, his dark brown brows raised with surprise.

“And why should I consider you for one of those highly coveted slots Miss… Kennedy?”  he demanded, amusement in his voice as he angled a look over at her name tag.  Lifting his gaze, he searched her large, intelligent blue eyes.  He took in her pale blond hair in a French braid lying between her shoulder blades. Was she worthy of his respect or not?

“Sir, my father is a senator from Maryland and he recently told me that a military review board had recommended women be allowed in combat.” I’ve got one shot at this and I have his undivided attention. She carefully watched his eyes for a sign of dismissal and wondered if he took her request seriously.

“So you think that Congress is going to vote that into law?” James demanded as his smile faded.

Helen watched as small lines at the corners of his grey eyes crease as he gave her an intense, inquisitive look that felt like his gaze bored right through her like a laser.  It was that famous SEAL focus she’d heard so much about.

Unflinching, Helen held his gaze, her stomach knotted, determination searing through her. “Yes, sir, my father said they would get the bill and vote on it. He was of the opinion that it would be passed.” Helen wanted LT James to believe her. She tried to will him to say he would at least give her request some consideration. A bead of sweat slowly rolled down the back of her spine. She swallowed her nervousness, stubbornly willing to persist until she got an answer out of him.

Helen had been told that LT James was on his way to lunch and she had raced ahead to this location seconds earlier and eagerly waited for him. They stood in the corridor just outside the huge King Hall dining facility. The hall was large enough to seat and serve the entire brigade of over four thousand midshipmen, plus the staff of over five hundred, all at once. She forced herself to remain at attention, keeping her face carefully arranged.

“How many years until graduation, Miss Kennedy?”

“I have two more years left before graduation, sir,” she blurted, feeling a thread of hope. “I thought I’d start the process now along with the other midshipmen competing for positions.” Helen studied him.  James appeared to be mulling over the idea. His brown hair was cut close in a military style, but she knew that if he were in a SEAL Team deployed to a combat zone, it would have been longer and he would probably have had a beard instead of being clean-shaven. His skin was still slightly bronzed, even though it was well into winter. Helen presumed he had probably spent several years in sun drenched exotic but damned dangerous countries. She longed to experience those lands, those challenges.

Tension built in her as she waited for his reply. She felt the strain of anticipation churn in her chest.  Feeling the tension building between them, she tried to mentally relax the tautness in her body by taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. Midshipmen hurried by them, laughing and talking loudly in their black winter uniforms, white cover hats with black patent leather bills, white shirts and black ties.

“Let me check on that and get back to you,” LT James finally said in a dismissive manner.  He looked away from her, said, “Excuse me,” and strode off towards the dining hall, deep in thought.

Helen felt her excitement ebb like a swift, dropping Nova Scotia tide.

“Thank you sir,” she called out respectfully after him, all the enthusiasm gone from her husky voice.  Brow wrinkling, she wavered.  If only the SEALs would give her a chance!  She would show them what a woman could do!

Helen’s eyes widened as she walked into the atrium of Luce Hall from her maritime law classroom.  Was she seeing things?  LT James zeroing in on her like a laser fired rocket?  His stride confident, boneless and gaze only on her.  He walked across the compass symbol recessed in the floor, outlined with blue and gold.  The tiles were polished and shining. The large grey granite building they were in would have not been out of place on the grounds of the Sun King Louis XIV’s Palace of Versailles.   She swallowed hard and slowed to a stop, standing on the compass, unsure of why LT James was headed her way.

For nearly one hundred years since the building was completed in 1919 many students had deliberated over similar life-altering ambitions in the very spot they now stood. Recessed lighting artistically lit the historic center of naval academia and cast it’s light down upon them.

Helen came to attention as he approached her, his eyes narrowed and dark.  She didn’t know WHAT to say or WHY he was here.  Had she done something wrong?  Said something she shouldn’t have earlier?  Was he coming back to chew her ass?

“At ease, Miss Kennedy.  Vice Admiral McCafferty is personally interested in the possibility of a woman from the Naval academy being selected for BUD/S.”

Blinking, Helen’s mouth dropped open as she went from rigid attention to an at ease position.  She quickly snapped it shut.  “Sir?  Did I hear you right?”

He grinned a little.  “You heard me right, Miss Kennedy.”

“But, I just talked with you earlier this afternoon. How were you able to get an answer back to me so quickly?” she asked, seesawing between bewilderment, sharp-edged joy and wondering if he was playing games with her.

“I’m pretty amazed myself but I guess I shouldn’t be when it comes to our admiral,” James admitted, shaking his head.  “The Admiral seems to have a sixth sense about these things. Over the years I’ve seen many SEAL’s develop this ability,” he said with a slight frown. His eyes had a momentary,  far away stare.

Helen quietly observed it was the same look she saw in James earlier when he seemed to be blowing her off and walking away into the dining hall.  He wasn’t blowing her off, after all.

“The admiral called me right after chow in regards to your question,” he said, his gaze on her. “He told me just what you said about the possibility of Congress signing a bill authorizing women in combat. He asked me if I knew of any females that might be interested in becoming a SEAL. Someone I thought might have the potential of making it through training. I immediately thought of you, of course, and said that I knew just such a person.”

Helen could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks as joy soared through her.  “Thank you for passing that on to the Admiral, sir.”

“He was pleased with my recommendation.”  James frowned.  “He requested that I use my best judgment in assessing you as a possible candidate and to keep him informed of your progress.” Hesitating, his voice lowered.  “Are you really motivated to do this, Miss Kennedy?”

Helen felt like he was looking through the windows of her eyes and trying to ferret out her reasons lodged in her soul. She didn’t fear what he might see in her. “I’m very interested in pursuing a career as a SEAL,” she told him in a fierce, passionate tone.  Helen didn’t care if he knew she was emotional about this.  It was a dream coming true for her.

Just outside the windows facing the Severn River the tall mast of a sailboat glided quickly by and almost close enough to touch. A blustery wind pushed it silently along the dark water as sunlight glimmered off small waves kicked up by the wind.

“Say more,” James urged, frowning.

Helen wrangled her escaping emotions and sat on them.  She willed herself to be calm. A tingling electric sensation rushed through every cell in her body.  Several of her classmates walked by, chattering to themselves, books loaded in their arms or resting on their hip.  “I’ve wanted this for a very long time, sir.  I believe women can be SEALs.  I know not all women will qualify through BUD/s, but I’m more than willing to give it a try.  I believe I bring a proud family military background to the SEALs.  I’ve been working out for years, and I have good upper body strength.  I’ve studied everything I can about BUD/s and what it means to become a SEAL.  I can do this, Lieutenant James and I’m very grateful for the opportunity, sir.”

James rocked back on his heels for a moment, digesting the passion in her voice, the long, steady look in her eyes telling him she meant every word of what she said.  He lost his serious demeanor and smiled faintly.

“That’s great,” he said, relaxing somewhat. “Miss Kennedy, are you by any chance related to the former President Kennedy?  Did you know he created the SEAL teams back in 1962?”

“Yes, sir, I’m descended from him through my father,” she admitted hesitantly.  Where was THIS going?  Helen had zealously guarded this information about her background, keeping it a deep secret.  She did not want to stand out in that way at the Academy.  Wanting her grades and her natural abilities to show who she was is what counted in her book.

“That’s an important point you left out this afternoon when we spoke, don’t you think?” James growled, giving her a piercing stare.

Helen girded herself, flatly meeting his accusing stare, as if silently accusing her of holding out on him.  Dragging in a breath, she said, “I know that most SEAL’s are humble about themselves from my own observations. I also don’t want any preferential treatment, Lieutenant James.  I don’t tell anyone here at the Academy about my family tree, either. So why should I tell you?  I’m good at what I set my mind to do. I have a grade point average of 4.0 and my athletic abilities as a swimmer are proven here. I also have no demerits on my record. I always give my best, and if that’s not good enough, then that’s too bad where I come from.”

James nodded, giving her an approving look.  “Good answer, Helen, because you will never get privileged treatment during your prescreening process for a slot for BUD/s.” His voice became firm. “We don’t operate like that. All SEAL’s have to continually prove themselves and no one is seen as better than anyone else when it comes to training or combat operations.”

Helen heard the truth vibrating in his voice.  “That’s all I ask is a fair and equal shot at becoming selected to go to BUD/s.”   The Hall was growing quiet now. A seagull glided by on the wind and looked in through the windows at them. His head turned side to side so that each eye could observe them. As if satisfied everything was as it should be he gave a cry and floated away on a gust of wind.

“So, you’re a Youngster?” James asked shooting a quick glance at the right shoulder board mounted on her heavy black overcoat. The board contained a golden fouled anchor and one single diagonal stripe.

“Yes, sir,” she answered, knowing full well that she was a Youngster.

“That’s perfect. We’re having a group of Youngsters begin their pre-selection for BUD/S, Basic Underwater Demolition SEAL, physical testing, two weeks from now on a Friday. Do you know any of them by chance?”

“Oh, yes, sir,” she said, “I do.”

“Great, that’s what I figured. Get with them on what the requirements for the test will be so you can physically and mentally prepare. I’m sorry I’ve not had the opportunity to check out your academic file, yet.”  He gave her a hopeful look.  “Tell me you have a sports background?”

Helen low keyed her answer.   “I’ve been on competitive swim teams most of my life, sir. Here at the academy, I’ve been on the swim team for two years running. I swam in the same club that Michael Phelps, the Olympic champion, did,” she added, trying to be helpful and hoping that James didn’t think she was bragging.  That was not a SEAL trait.

“That’s great, Miss Kennedy. That should come in very handy. All right, I’ll look forward to seeing you in a couple of weeks.”  He held out his hand toward her.

She thrust her right hand out, gripped his calloused one and said, “thank you so much, sir.”  Helen couldn’t help but smile.  James returned the smile and she liked his low key personality and his humbleness.  It became him because he was a SEAL.

Helen had to rein in her excitement.  Finally, the Friday had arrived for the testing. She listened intently as LT James briefed the group of fifty midshipmen. She observed his gaze as it moved around the group holding each person’s eyes, assessing each person. She could almost hear his thoughts as he would stop and study each individual.   Does this person have what it takes to be a SEAL?  Or not?

James came to a halt in front of her.  She was his height, six feet tall and she boldly held his stare.  His mouth quirked in one corner, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes

He thinks I have what it takes!  Helen swallowed in a gulp.  As he moved to the next man in line, Helen felt giddy over that realization.  James KNEW she could do it!  But so did she.  Still, it felt good to have someone on her side, for once.  Her family was completely discouraging of her trying out to become the first woman SEAL.

Helen looked around at the rest of the all male group standing in their blue and gold swim trunks. She felt comfortable in her blue and gold one-piece bathing suit. Her many years of competitive sports and her burning desire to be a SEAL over rode any thoughts of not belonging in a male dominant environment.  Her secret weapon was her extreme competitiveness.  Helen had never let her gender stand in her way when it came to sports and trying her best.

Early spring rains had driven them inside, and at the end of Friday’s class session they would conduct their first Navy SEAL PST, Physical Screening Test inside Lejeune Hall.

Lejeune Hall was located in the South West corner of the “Yard” as the campus grounds were known. The water sports complex where the PST swim portion would be conducted was named after a former Marine Corps commandant and class of 1888 graduate. The Lejeune sports complex was not designed after the French Renaissance period like many of the buildings on the three hundred thirty eight acre campus.  Instead, the large, modern looking two story white concrete building built in 1982 had a large beige metal roof.

Helen felt a shiver of excitement run up her spine and chill bumps rose on her skin as she listened to what the requirements for passing the PST were. She’d arrived at Lejeune Hall soaked from the cold, nasty rain outside.  Being able to do the tests indoors was going to be helpful, although she knew from reading every book she could get her hands on about BUD/s training, the Pacific Ocean at Coronado Island was damned cold.  She’d better get used to cold rain and cold water because if she was chosen for BUD/s, the candidates were always getting soaked and sitting in that hypothermic water.

Dark grey storm clouds moved in so that the only lighting came from the powerful lights above in the domed building, illuminated the group. Rain was drumming the metal roof above them and Helen thought it would have made a heavy metal rock group proud. Old man winter was fighting back as a warm front was moving in from the Southwest, a harbinger that Spring was coming. A sky-ripping crack sounded and thunder shook the entire building. The lights flickered, but remained on.

Everyone was looking upwards as LT James laughed and said humorously to the group, “Sounds like you guys drew the attention of King Neptune. His brother Zeus decided to come along with his lightning bolts and thunder. You must be a special group for them to show up to clap for your performance.”

Helen shot an inquisitive look upward and then maneuvered a little closer towards the big SEAL so she could hear over the pounding rain and thunder.

Hope the SEAL teams are in good with the gods.  Helen smiled to herself

LT James wore his Brooks Brothers winter service dress double-breasted jacket with gold buttons and two gold bars on the cuffs. The black wool material located over his heart contained one row of his top earned ribbons. Above the ribbons was a gleaming gold SEAL Trident insignia, which everyone, Helen observed, seemed mesmerized by. Beneath the ribbons were gold parachute jump wings. White dress shirt and black silk tie, black wool trousers and black lace shoes with a mirror like gloss, completed his ensemble.   In Helen’s eyes, he presented a proud picture of a SEAL, something to aspire to become.  James was a damn good role model.

Turning his voice a couple notches to be heard, James said, “Points of Performance are as follows: For the swim you must perform the test using either an Underwater Recovery Side Stroke or a Breast Stroke.”

Helen could feel his voice resonate inside her. She was intent, hungrily absorbing every word he spoke.

“Midshipman 1st class Monroe will demonstrate the side stroke.” James told them and gestured toward the pool.

Helen knew a 1st class midshipmen was at the top of the class and considered a senior by civilian standards. A 2nd class would be the equivalent of a junior. Her 3rd class midshipmen were called “Youngsters” and would be sophomores at a civilian school. At least she wasn’t a 4th class midshipman “Plebe” at the Academy.  They were considered the bottom of the barrel.

Helen followed LT James’s gesture and noticed Monroe was already in the pool and wearing his swim goggles. He wore his Navy blue swimsuit and was holding onto the side, looking up in anticipation of the go signal from James to demonstrate the proper swim technique. Helen could barely make out the silhouette of his legs and noticed they were coiled like a spring, both feet pressing on the rough texture of the concrete just below the clear blue water’s surface.

“Go!” LT James shouted.

Monroe shot away from the side, throwing a spray of water across the calm surface.

Helen calmly watched Monroe emerge from underwater as he came up on his side, rotating his head and taking a breath and then stroked his arms sideways underwater and scissor kicked his legs in perfect form. He was an excellent swimmer! She was an accomplished swimmer and knew how to instantly evaluate a person’s abilities after many years of competing.  James pointed at Firstie Stapleton and shouted, “Go!”

Stapleton fired off the wall like spring pistons powered him. He demonstrated the correct form for the butterfly stroke in between the blue and gold floating lane lines stretching out to the other end of the Olympic sized pool.

LT James said loudly, “Push-ups must be performed with a straight back, with feet and?hands in contact with the deck at all times.  No slouching?allowed; proper form must be strictly maintained. Monroe and Stapleton will demonstrate the correct form and procedure for counting.”

Helen watched them leap out of the pool, dripping water as they came right over onto the pool deck where the group was located without even taking off their goggles.

“Stapleton, who will keep count, will lay down flat on the floor in front and slightly off to the side with his arm extended and fist up.”

Helen’s eyes narrowed on the two positions, memorizing them.

“Monroe will assume the pushup position over the top of Stapleton’s fist and lower his chest, touching the fist, then raise back up for a count of one. Every time he goes down and back up, it will count as one complete push-up.”

Helen watched Stapleton’s large hairy chest move down until it brushed the top of Monroe’s clenched fist, then his powerful arms flexed as if they were coils. His chest pumped back up as his arms locked into the full upright position.

“Any questions?” James demanded, glancing around as he flipped to the next sheet on his brown clipboard.

Helen stood, hearing no questions come from the candidates. LT James continued describing all the exercises as the two midshipmen demonstrated. His voice was methodical with a military professional tone as he read verbatim the PST guidelines outlined on the sheet.

“Sit-ups are performed by sitting on the floor with your knees bent approximately 90 degrees, cross your arms in front of you, with fingertips touching your?shoulders.  Exercise through the full range of motion. Again, proper form must be strictly maintained.”

Monroe looked like a robot as he demonstrated the proper form. Stapleton sat on his feet with both arms wrapped around his legs holding him still as he performed the exercise and counted the repetitions out loud.

“Pull-ups start by gripping the pull-up bar with PALMS FACING AWAY FROM YOU.”

Stapleton sauntered his six-foot frame to beneath the bar to demonstrate.

“Hands?should be shoulder width apart. Do not swing, kick, or bicycle to?assist. Make sure you go all the way up with your chin rising above bar then ALL THE?WAY DOWN.”

Helen watched as Stapleton leaped up perfectly onto the bar positioning his hands as instructed, and then effortlessly hauled his long body up until his chin was over the bar as he demonstrated a perfect pull-up.  His back muscles flared out like a peacock showing off his feathers. Stapleton then lowered himself and after reaching full arm extension dropped from the bar and turned around with a cocky, self-assured look on his face.

Helen felt his shot of disgust in her direction. She knew that look all too well from men who felt women were intruding into their sacred domain.  Whether she wanted to or not, she thought of her two older brothers who were as arrogant as Stapleton.

A mischievous grin lit LT James face and he cocked one at the group as he turned to the next sheet. “Now, I’m going to brief the SEAL competitive Physical?Screening Test scores. This is what we will look at and not the MINIMUM standards, if any of you are so fortunate to make it to the Naval Officer screening for BUD/S selection board.” LT James shot a sliver of a glance in Helen’s direction, a bare hint of a grin pulling at one corner of his mouth.

“The scores we will be looking at today will be as follows:  Swim five hundred yards using the side or breaststroke in ten minutes and thirty seconds.”

Helen knew she could crush that time, feeling a swell of confidence in her core.

“Rest ten minutes.  Push-ups within two minutes: seventy-nine.  Rest two minutes.  Sit-ups within two minutes: seventy-nine.”

Helen could smell chlorine from the pool and fidgeted.  Let’s get this show on the road. Arms crossed in front of her, she shifted her weight back and forth from one foot to another, feeling antsy and ready to rock. She had this. She knew she did.

“Pull-ups, no time limit: 12.”

James shifted a glance toward her without moving his head and looked for Helen’s reaction. He saw nothing but eagerness and confidence in her expression.

“Rest ten minutes.  The last requirement will be to run one and a half miles in ten minutes and twenty seconds with light weight boots on.”

Helen watched James lower the clipboard and gaze around at the fidgeting, tense, ready midshipmen.  He was a big man, probably over two hundred pounds. As he took in a deep breath, the black material of his uniform stretched tightly against his massive chest.  The officer might be big, but he carried himself well, reminding Helen of a deadly stalking black jaguar that James was in disguise.  She had one helluva imagination and often compared people to animals or birds.  And it wasn’t lightly that she assigned a jaguar to James.  She instinctively felt his lethal qualities that he kept well hidden by his seeming casual demeanor in front of them.  But she sensed it as she sensed so many other invisible things that most men never picked up on.  Maybe it was because she was female?  Perhaps she had an extra psychic antenna in place genetically speaking?  Her two brothers hated her ability to ferret them out when she was younger.

“Are their any questions?” James inquired, watching the eager, nervous midshipmen.

“I want you all to be aware that for some of you this is the beginning of a long process and how you begin it will set the foundation for your future or no future as a Navy SEAL. When I look back on my career and come to this single point in my history, I realize on hindsight that my determination and fortitude in the beginning during the PRT was crucial to my success.”

Helen stopped fidgeting moving and hung on his every word. Her lips pursed and she felt that driving competitiveness rock through her, knowing she was going to succeed at these tests today.  No way was that bastard, Stapleton or Monroe, going to be able to say she was weak and couldn’t handle a man’s competition.

“All right, if there are no questions, I’m going to turn the timekeeping and record keeping over to 1st class Midshipmen Stapleton and Monroe. I wish I could watch your PST, but I have other commitments. I’m head of the Academy Scottish Highland Sword Dance group and we have a performance tonight in Alumni Hall. Midshipmen Stapleton will bring me your scores after your done.”  His voice dropped lower and with sincerity. “I wish you all the best of luck.”

Helen saw James give her a barely perceptible nod, turned and walked briskly away toward the main exit.  Her heart pounded with a competitive drumbeat in her chest.

“All right you Youngsters get in the pool for your timed laps,” bellowed Stapleton in a sarcastic, commanding voice.

Helen’s muscles screamed to stop as she pressed her chest to the top of the outstretched fist of Dirty Dan Butler, lying on the floor beneath her.

As she thrust away in the counter motion of her push-up, he called out “ninety-two!”

“Twenty seconds remaining,” Monroe, roared out to the struggling group.

Helen heard grunts groans and a few whines from other midshipmen around her intensify as they redoubled their efforts in a race to accumulate more repetition, before the timed finish. I’ll damn well do this! And she exhaled sharply on her next thrust upward, gulped in another breath at the top and quickly lowered herself once again.

Sweat beads broke out on her forehead and started to drip into a puddle below her on the dark blue synthetic floor of the gymnasium.  Three more reps to go!  Gritting her teeth, she willed herself, arm muscles shaking viciously ready to collapse from the exertion.  Her focus was narrow.  Rest a second at the top, arms locked.   Her internal knowing of how to gut through this screamed at her.  Locking at the top would help her recover for the last push. Two more!  Do it! The effort almost made her collapse.

“Ten seconds!” Brian Monroe yelled.  He’d already achieved a coveted spot to attend SEAL training. His scowl deepened as he observed Kennedy’s grim, sweaty features, her eyes hard and focused.  There’s no way this bitch was going to make it.  No damn way was she going to earn a coveted slot for BUD/S.

Helen clenched her teeth, sweat stinging her eyes.  She mentally willed her trembling body to respond. Two more reps and she’d have it! She thought about her dream to be a SEAL and the power of it made her grunt out the next rep. Rest a split second, now push for all your worth! Muscles shook convulsively in her arms and across her chest.

“C’mon one last rep, Kennedy!  You can do this!’ Dirty shouted up at her, goading her on.

Down quickly, her chest hitting Dirty’s fist with a smack, she heard it as if in the distance and then miraculously she finally felt her arms lock at the top.

“One hundred and one!” Dirty yelled out triumphantly as if she had just scored a winning touchdown.

“Time!” Monroe roared out to the midshipmen.

Helen gasped, sinking back against her heels, panting and gulping for air.  She weakly pushed the sweat out of her burning eyes. “I did it,” she said breathlessly, looking at Dan, her friend who had always supported her at the Academy.  He was grinning, pride shining in his brown eyes for her efforts as he came out of his prone position and into a crouch near her side.

“You even beat your goal by one!” Dirty praised, giving her a high five.

A roguish smile pulled at her mouth as she continued to suck in huge draughts of oxygen, her arms feeling like limp spaghetti.  Helen gave her friend a triumphant look, pride surging through her. “Thanks, Dirty.”

Dan reached out and gave her a fist bump.  “This number will add to your best swim time of the group. Your pull-ups and sit-ups were in the high numbers, so you’re looking good so far in the SEAL PST,” he said reassuringly.

She appreciated her loyal friend who had taken her under his wing the moment they’d met each other as Plebes.  There was never at time that Helen hadn’t felt comfortable and secure with Dirty Dan. He had an easygoing attitude and treated her with respect and admiration, making her even more grateful to be his friend because she had a lot of enemies among the men who wanted her to fail.  She watched in awe as he slowly unwound to his full six feet three-inches of height. He had military short wavy brown hair and intelligent green eyes that always gleamed with mischievousness.

Dirty was a bull of a man and he had a massive chest. He was already a starting fullback and star performer on the Academy’s football team. In the last game against Army, which had been a running dominant game for both teams, he’d been a superstar carrying the football, often to the thunderous applause of his fellow midshipmen. It had been the tenth win in a row against the Black Knights and made Navy a perfect ten as everyone was calling the football team now.  Dirty was worshipped by everyone, no matter what their position at the Academy.

Helen sat down, crossed her legs and rested her weary arms on her knees.  Dirty came and joined her, still grinning with pride at her.   “How did you get the nickname ‘Dirty’?” she wondered, watching his grin broaden even more.

“I was in a couple of brawls in the past where I used incapacitating martial arts strikes. I’ll leave it to your imagination where those strikes might have gone,” he told her, his grin widening.

“And you did okay on the PST so far?”  Helen demanded.

“Of course.”

“I sure hope we both get a slot Dirty. You’ve been a like the brother I always wished I had,” Helen told him sincerely, mopping her sweaty brow with a white towel.

“Give me your numbers everyone, so we can move on to the run, your last event,” Stapleton ordered in a superior tone which grated against Helen’s nerves. Stapleton was glaring directly at her.

They stood up and got in at the end of the long line.

At the front of the line, far ahead of them, Stapleton’s grating voice carried over the group.  Helen hated his arrogance and drama.  He demanded in a loud tone the partner give him the push-up numbers.  Then, like a three-year old child, he’d scribble in the answer with a self-important flourish of his pen into the Navy logbook he held.  She scowled.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what happened to your two older brothers that attended the Academy to become SEAL’s?” Dirty asked in a low tone as they stood waiting in the line.

“No, I don’t mind. My oldest brother, Hank, was selected for BUD/s, but he quit during Hell Week on the second night.” Helen felt no remorse that her brothers hadn’t been successful in their bid to become SEAL’s. They had made her life miserable growing up. “My brother George also had aspirations of becoming a SEAL and followed Hank two years after he’d gone into the Academy. Unfortunately a year later, George was discharged by an Admiral’s board for disciplinary problems,” she said, keeping the grim satisfaction out of her tone.  George had got what was coming to him. Outside another peal of thunder sounded.

“So? Are you the last great hope for the family then?” Dirty asked.

Helen felt a mix of competitiveness and sadness within her.  How to put it nicely to Dirty, that she didn’t have the happy little family everyone thought she did. She’d been ignored in her family for her twenty years.  She wondered if her brothers, Hank and George, had failed becoming a SEAL as cosmic retribution for their endless mental torture of her during their childhood together. “I’d hardly say that,” Helen muttered, frowning. “My parents aren’t very supportive of what I wanted. In fact, they’re trying to discourage me from becoming a SEAL.”  The anger leaked through her husky voice no matter how much she tried to hide it.

“That’s crazy,” Dan growled, shaking his head.  “You’ll do it.”

Helen gave him a warm, grateful look.  Dirty was loyal to her, always her guard dog of sorts, keeping her enemies at bay.  “Thank you for believing in me.”

“You said your dad is a Senator for Maryland and that he believed they were going to pass a bill allowing women in combat right?”

“He did tell me that, but not in a supportive way, but with disgust. He was crushed that my brothers didn’t make it to the Teams. My dad thought it would help his bid for election to a seat on the senate. He also saw one of my brothers following him into public office as a hero Navy man like my grandfather Jack Kennedy did, after World War Two. My parents think a woman’s place is in the home,” Helen muttered, unable to keep the contempt out of her tone.

She reined in her disgust of Doug Stapleton, looking like the lordly tyrant he was.  She braced herself for his hatred of her.  She had plenty of enemies here at Annapolis and this bastard was chief among them.  Stepping up and snapping to attention, Helen gave Dirty’s score.  “Midshipman Butler performed 135 push-ups sir,” she said keeping her voice respectful.

“Helen Kennedy performed 101 push-ups sir,” said Dirty with pride, at stiff attention.

Stapleton looked up icily, pen poised above the logbook and glared at them both.

What! Give me that number again for Midshipman Kennedy?”

A strong wind gust outside pushed on the domed building and made it creak audibly.

“101, sir,” Dirty confirmed, confused by Stapleton’s negative demeanor.

Stapleton glared at Dirty, trying to intimidate him.

Dan narrowed his eyes and raised himself up to his full six feet three inches, swelled his massive chest challengingly, giving Stapleton a withering returning glare.

The much smaller Stapleton dropped his gaze and begrudgingly wrote the numbers in the log, scribbling loudly.

“Well it shows that you’re not that strong in the upper body, Ms. Kennedy,” Stapleton said smugly, and he shook his head, looking at her other scores. “You only did fourteen pull-ups Ms. Kennedy,” he said contemptuously.

“She had the best swim time out of anyone, sir, and fourteen pull-ups is two more than the minimum competitive score,” Dirty pointed out, scowling.

“How did you do so well in the swim, Ms. Kennedy?” Stapleton demanded, barely glancing up at her and patently ignoring the football jock.

Helen knew Stapleton wanted her to lose her cool.  He’d like any reason to report her for disrespect and have demerit points posted on her record. Helen drilled him with an expressionless stare, watching Stapleton’s adam’s apple bob.  Yeah, shithead. That’s right.  I’m one helluva swimmer. Better than your sorry ass will ever be. But she stood there poker-faced because she knew Stapleton wanted her to react.  Screw him.

“I asked you a question midshipman 3rd class Kennedy, and you will give me a response!” Stapleton hissed through his clenched teeth.

The rain slowed to a barely discernable drizzle, as if sensing a coming confrontation. Everything became quiet and expectant. The confrontation became like a duel between two Kung Fu masters sizing each other up as they circled, looking for the right entry point to attack.

“I have been a competitive swimmer for most of my life, Midshipman 1st class Stapleton,” Helen said, keeping her voice even.

Frowning. Stapleton eyed her, hoping to see he was making her sweat.    But it was the sharp rise and fall of her chest that gave away her effort to contain her anger. He grinned like a jackal.

“Well as a SEAL you have to be good at all aspects,” Stapleton said with a snide curl of his upper lip. He snapped the logbook shut with a loud and angry pop.

He glared around at the fifty midshipmen who had been drawn into the showdown. Ignoring the threatening glare from Dirty, he shouted irritably, “Change into your running clothes and head next door to the Halsey Field House.”

Spartan 16 Chapter 3

Another sneak peak at a future fiction novel of SEAL action with a twist that will intrigue. A new SEAL team will eventually be formed with hand selected operators with unique skills and the first female SEAL operator. The logo below is the SEAL trident with the Spartan inverted V symbol on a shield and the number sixteen. Sixteen will be the number of SEAL personal in a new highly secretive SEAL team that will be formed in future chapters of the book. The new team will have access to cutting edge technology, training and will be sent on extremely sensitive missions.


Chapter 3

Jake and his troop charged toward the gate of the compound at full sprint.

It was then that he saw a dark, cylindrical object flash in the corner of his left eye. Whatever it was, it was moving at high speed into the two-story building.

What was a huge black dart doing flying into the building?  His confused brain tried to make sense out of what he just saw as he sprinted forward.

Then the whole world erupted in a blinding flash and a deafening sound pounded his ears.  It felt as if a massive thunderbolt had smashed into his body.

It was as if everything moved in slow motion at that point. Jake could see the ten-foot high mud brick wall disintegrate into powder and solid chunks of flying projectiles. Jake thought it looked like a frame-by-frame motion scene from an explosion in an action movie. The wall moved towards him like a tsunami. As the wave of debris reached him, an electric bolt of pain shot through him. He felt tremendous pressure, as if someone had swung a heavy sledgehammer and smashed it against his extended left knee.

Almost simultaneously as the pain and pressure hit him, a hot flash of energy and dust from the wave picked him up and sent him flying backwards.  Jake crashed at an angle into Jordan, who had been behind him. While he was flying backwards, he could feel hundreds of small pieces of brick and mortar impacting his body armor, helmet, Oakley ballistic sunglasses and the exposed areas of his skin. Hundreds of red-hot like pokers jammed into the unprotected flesh of his neck and lower face.

He hit the ground with a loud grunt. Gasping like a fish out of water, the air was knocked out of him. Jake struggled to regain his breath in the dust-choked air.  What the hell had just happened?  His mind wouldn’t work right.  Pieces of splintered wood and small chunks of mud mortar rained down on top of him. Dazed, he lay on his back looking up.

Check your body for injuries.

Everything seemed so still compared to all the bruising sounds he’d heard around him before.  Jake willed himself to slowly sit up. Dust clogged the air, making him hack and cough.   His ears were ringing so loud he couldn’t hear anything.

He examined his legs with badly trembling hands.   A high-speed projectile had shattered the hard plastic kneepad on his left knee. Probably a piece of brick.  Then, Jake slowly began to realize he and his team had been in an explosion.

Did the insurgents blow up their own compound?  Senses dulled, Jake slowly shook his head, feeling disconnected, his mind wallowing in neutral.  Slowly, he remembered the rapidly moving black dart and realized that someone must have called in an airstrike and hadn’t warned them over the radio before they unleashed that bomb. The slightly sweet smell of burnt almonds assailed his nostrils. He had often smelled that same odor after a JDAM, Joint Direct Attack Munition, had been used.  What he thought was a giant dart was actually a five hundred pounder that had been GPS guided from an Air Force F-16 Fighting Falcon Jet.

Jesus, he was damned lucky to be alive.

Jake knew they had been using the drones all day for air support whenever the tangos had presented themselves as targets. The F-16’s had been on standby for emergencies, while the Reaper’s went back to base to get more Hellfire missiles.

His mind shorted out as he impatiently wiped the dust out of his watering eyes and spat the dirt out of his mouth.  His brain started to come back online.  Worried about his team, he called on the mic, “Troop Two, are you guys all right?”

Jake still could not hear anything from the ringing in his ears, not even his own voice. The dust began to settle and he could see the other members of his team beginning to sit up.  He waved and they began to wave back to signal they were alive. He counted seven. Good, they were all alive!

Jake gingerly pulled at his kneepad.  His knee was throbbing with pain. With difficulty, he finally got the pad off of his knee and down to his shin.  Carefully, Jake felt his patella.  It was shattered into several pieces.  His gut clenched.

I’m not going to be able to hide this.

Throughout his ten-year career as a SEAL Jake had endured many aches and pains without letting anyone know. All SEAL’s worked silently through injuries at one time or another. But this time was going to be different, Jake grimly realized, feeling splintering, boiling pain beginning to radiate around the injured knee.

Jordan, who had been shielded from the blast by Jake and another of his teammates, crawled up to check him out as the others from his troop began to run back to the gully at a crouch. Jake realized the fight was still ongoing as he saw smoke and flashes coming from Red Squadron barrels. He looked up towards buildings further up the mountainside village and saw flashes of gunfire. The building he had been almost upon, had virtually disappeared leaving only a smoking crater in front of him.

Jordan was looking at him with concern showing through his scratched and bleeding face. He made the okay sign with his fingers.

Jake pointed towards his left knee and made a sign with his hands like he was breaking a stick to signify his knee was broken.

Jordan scowled, looked worried and nodded.

Jake figured they were all probably deafened by the blast because they said nothing. Jordan picked him up and slung him over his shoulders in a fireman’s hold and quickly carried him back to the ravine.

As his best friend carried him, Jake felt his injured leg below his shattered patella flopping around like a rag doll without the bone structure to support it. The pain was mind numbing. A wave of dizziness and nausea passed through him and he almost passed out.

They laid Jake down along the bank of the wadi and Mike, the 18 Delta Corpsman from his troop began working on him. He began a search from head to toe, rolling him on his side to check the back to search for any other injuries or exit wounds that might be life threatening, but not evident. As Mike worked on him, Jake could see the Red Men rushing by him to move forward and take up new fighting positions. They all shot him a concerned look as they raced by, but had no time to stop and find out what was happening.

Ed Summers was right across from him talking animatedly into a radio. Around him was his concerned troop members providing a protective wall around him. Jake was sure Ed was demanding why they hadn’t been informed there was bomb mission called in. Ed came over and put his hand on his shoulder and looking into his eyes Jake could see he was mouthing the words “I’m sorry.”

Jake pointed to his ear and shook his head, indicating he couldn’t hear him. Ed nodded understanding.

“I led this battle after those bastards all day, Ed. Keep at them, don’t let them escape!” Jake heard noise in his ears but wasn’t sure if the words came out right. It seemed to him that the sounds were echoing, as if he was in a deep tunnel.

Ed nodded and gave his shoulder a squeeze and then moved up the ravine behind the Red Men. An explosion from a Hellfire missile erupted up ahead. The grim Reapers had returned.

Once satisfied there were no other serious injuries, Mike took out an inflatable splint to isolate Jake’s injured leg for transportation. He wrapped it around his leg and blew it up through a one-way valve. Once it was tight, the medic capped the valve. Mike then pulled out a collapsible litter carrier from his medical ruck, extended it, and then snapped it together so that it was ridged. They gently placed Jake on the litter.  Mike and Jordan picked him up and they began to move towards a hasty landing zone that was being set up for a medical evacuation site.

Jake saw several Rangers and a couple of CAG soldiers who had been wounded in the fight around the house as his teammates set him down in the triage area. Many of them had tourniquets on bloody arms and legs. Several soldiers were unconscious, or worse. Jake saw a few writhing in pain, as if being violently tortured by some unseen force.  Medics were administering syrettes of morphine that every man carried on him in a medical kit, to stop their agony while they waited for the medevac.

Jake saw Mike out of the corner of his eye tearing open his medical pack and withdrawing bandages pre-coated with blood clotting agent. He began to feverishly stuff them into a small hole the size of a quarter in a thigh wound gushing blood. Mike held a finger in the wound on an artery that was severed while he stuffed in the gauze around and on it. This would stop the internal hemorrhaging and save that guy’s life. It was then he noticed it was a Delta buddy, Cujo, that he had just been talking to and laughing with only two days ago.

Tears jammed into his eyes. Instantly, Jake forced them back down.  Mouth thinning, he held his feelings in tight check, struggling to put them behind the steel doors of his heart. But they wouldn’t go, dammit.

Jake knew from helping save several teammates over the years that the frequent use of tourniquets and stuffing wounds had evolved as the preferred method over inserting IV, intravenous, fluids. IV’s diluted the body’s natural blood clotting agents and caused blood to continue to flow, resulting in higher casualties.

Tears burned in his eyes and he turned away, struggling with his emotions. How frustrating to be so close to victory over the enemy and to be almost killed by friendly fire! Normally, he could easily control his emotions.  But he’d never been wounded like this before, either.

The powerful thumping of the medevac’s blades was like invisible hands pounding suddenly against Jake’s prone body.  He could see and feel the hurricane force winds created by the down blast of rotor wash from a helicopter, but he couldn’t hear the Chinook’s roaring dual engines. Dust exploded in every direction, rising hundreds of feet into the air, blotting out the helo.  The pilot was going to have to land in a ‘brown out’ where he or she couldn’t see anything.  It was seat of the pants flying at its best.  Jake raised his hand, protecting his eyes as the dust rolled out, covering him and everyone else.  Once the medevac landed, they’d fly them back to a prearranged trauma center at the nearby airbase in Kandahar.

When the dust cleared Jake could see two Apache attack helicopters hovering menacingly with devastating firepower capability. Ready, watching, willing to spring into action to protect the Ch-47 like a shepherd protects his flock from wolves.

Jake peered out the open back ramp of the long bus-like body of the twin rotor CH-47 Chinook helicopter.  He jolted upright as the rocky mountainside above the war torn village erupted into multiple enormous fireballs. The flames quickly withdrew and disappear inside rapidly towering columns of dust and smoke. He watched in amazement as the dust column continued ever higher into the sky. The heavier, slower particles began spilling over the edge of the pulverized earth filled tubes. A mushroom shaped top began forming. It looked to Jake as if a nuclear explosion had gone off.

Jake spotted a pair of F-16’s banking in the distance and calculated they had each launched two, one thousand pound JDAM’s. It would have been a last ditch effort to catch the fleeing Taliban and Al Qaeda fighters before they slipped over the border as dusk fell.

Anger, red, hot, seethed through Jake as he hoped they had got all the tangos. Pressure concussion waves from the blasts passed by and the bird violently vibrated and shook. Suddenly, the helo dropped.  They were in freefall mode!

Jake grabbed at the seat post next to where he lay on the metal deck. The Helo fell several hundred feet before grabbing stable air again. Jake collapsed against the deck, ragged gasps tearing out of him, relieved.  He’d been in enough helicopter crashes over the years.  He didn’t need one now.

To the west, Jake could see a blood red sun beginning to just touch the white peaks in the distance.  Blood had run today and a grim satisfaction thrummed through him as he thought again, as he always did, about those three innocent children who had paid such an awful price.

After the CH-47 landed, nurses and doctors immediately rushed Jake and the other wounded down the ramp.

“Take the serious wounded into the operating room at once,” yelled the head nurse. Doctors worked feverishly to save and stabilize the men who had been severely wounded. Bagram airbase was the normal location for wounded treatment and it was there that it was normally determined if a patient needed more intensive care. In anticipation of the battle wounded, they had set up a facility to cut down the hour-long medevac flight to just a few minutes. Already, a C-17 transport jet was being readied to transport the critically wounded to Landstuhl, Germany, where specialized surgery and care would be provided.

Jake was wheeled into X-ray on a gurney and the technician had been astonished at his shattered patella pictures. The ringing in his ears was still there, but it was starting to fade. The technician said, “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“Can I see?” Jake asked curiously.

“Sure,” the tech said, handing him the X-Ray. “Here are the pieces of what used to be your patella,” he said, pointing them out on the x-ray film.

“No wonder I couldn’t walk,” Jake muttered, staring hard at them.

He felt helpless lying on the metal bed. A doctor in his fifties with graying hair, wearing a white lab coat, entered the room.

“Whew, that was some kind of impact that caused this injury,” he said as he shook his head, studying the X-Ray photo.  The doctor asked how he’d been wounded and Jake explained how the injury had happened. A few minutes later, several more doctors and nurses rushed in, looked at the X-rays and had him explain the injury again. Jake saw amazement in every face.  He began to feel like the prize bull being paraded around, feeling exhaustion stealing through him, not to mention, shock debilitating him.

“You’ll have to be operated on in Landstuhl, German,” the head doctor finally said. “We don’t have the surgical capability at this location.”   Giving Jake a respectful look, he added softly, “That must have been some battle you guys were in today.” The doctor eyed Jake’s blood soaked and splattered uniform.

“Yes, sir, it was pretty intense.” Jake said thickly. His emotions were raw.  What was going to happen to him? Would he ever walk again?  The horror of seeing his leg flopping as Jordan carried him to safety made him nauseous. Terror began eating at him. Jake had never known another life except as a SEAL.  It was what he’d always wanted to be, nothing more.  And now…God, was he going to LOSE his leg?  Never walk again?  He’d be thrown out of the only family he’d ever known.  His SEAL family.  Laying back, weakness stealing through him, his knee a dull, throbbing ache, Jake laid his arm across his eyes, wanting to blot out his future.

In less than an hour they had placed him in the C-17 in a metal-framed bed with a mattress. Around him were nearly two-dozen other beds with other wounded Americans. Three rows of beds stacked one over the other along the fuselage of the aircraft were set up so that medical personnel could continue to treat and stabilize them during their flight to Germany.

“Would you like a sleeping sedative for the long flight?” a kind female nurse with blond hair asked him.

“That would be great, thanks,” Jake said, thinking it would help take his mind off his situation.

It was then that he noticed a commotion on the ramp of the bird and looked up to see Jordan running up. He was breathless, as if he had humped with a hundred pound ruck on his back from the other side of the runway where the helo’s set down.  His face was still sweaty and grimy, gleaming as he came to a halt, his teeth starkly white against his dirty skin.  Eyes burning with concern, Jordan gripped his hand.

“I’ll see you in Germany in a few days, Bro,” he said placing his other hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, everything will be fine Jake,” he said with a confident grin.  “You’ve landed in shit before and come out smelling like a rose.  This is one of those times, Brother.”

Jake’s throat tightened. “How are you going to get there, Rebel? Aren’t you going to be working?”

Jordan gave him an amused look.  “No. Ed told me we’re at the end of our deployment and he was sending me after you to make sure you get proper care and to escort you back to Virginia Beach safely.”

“That’s awesome. Thank Ed for me will you?.”

“Roger that.”

They clasped hands and shook. Jake felt slightly energized again, his heart swelling in his chest over Jordan’s loyalty, a lump forming in his throat.  His family was taking care of him, just as he’d taken care of other members of his platoon for so many years.  Now, it was his turn.

“You’re going to have to leave,” the plane’s crew chief, a woman, told Jordan brusquely. “We’re about to take off and we’ve got critically wounded on board.”

Jordan gave the crew chief a narrow-eyed look, suddenly focused on her.

Jake gripped Jordan’s hand, trying to get him to leave the crew chief alone.  She was doing her job.  He knew Jordan was still high on the adrenaline rush of combat.  “Hey,” he called to his friend, “take off.  I’ll see you soon.”  His voice grew hoarse as he suddenly saw moisture in Jordan’s blue eyes.   Jake felt his throat close.

“Damn you, don’t you DARE cry, Jordan.”

That silly-assed grin of his pulled at his mouth.  “I keep tellin’ all you knuckleheads that it’s all right to shed a tear or two.  Nothin’ wrong with it.”

“Jesus, you’re gonna embarrass the shit outta me,” Jake muttered darkly, scowling up at his shadowed, bearded face. “Thanks for being here…”

Jordan chortled and wiped his eyes with his dusty, sweaty hand.

Jake cursed softly. “Your hillbilly roots are showin’, Rebel.  Get the hell off this plane before—

“No worries, Jake.  I’ll let you keep that tough SEAL game face of yours in place,” and Jordan gave him a look of care, patted his shoulder gently and then released his hand and started towards the ramp.

Rebel turned suddenly as if he had forgotten something. “Oh, thanks for saving my life, Bro. You took that JDAM blast for me.”

“You would’ve done the same for me. Now get the hell outa here before they take off with you on board and I have to listen to more of your touchy-feely shit.”

Jake watched him grin proudly, turn and stroll down through the C-17, waving at the female crew chief as he departed like he owned the damned thing. But then, he was a SEAL.

In what seemed like only a few minutes Jake felt the rumble of the big turbo engines on the jet as it rolled and shook down the runway. He became slightly weightless feeling as the bird flung itself airborne. Jake worried if the doctors would be able to fix his knee so that he could still be an operator. Moonlight streamed through one of the windows next to his bed and he looked out at a crescent moon. The symbol of the crescent moon was on the flag of many Muslim countries. He knew from his own research into the history of Islam that it was the symbol of Archangel Gabriel, the messenger of God, who had brought the message of peace to the prophet Mohammad.

Peace? What or who had distorted Gabriel’s message of peace so horribly? He had an obsessive hatred for those murderous fanatics. Jake felt himself drifting off into an uneasy sleep as the C-17 reached altitude and started to bank towards Germany.

Past Lives that will be used in The Awakening of a Warrior series

I’m posting this entire list of my past lives so that more people can be exposed to what is possible once you begin connecting with your own past lives.

This list is not complete and will be added to over time. The lives marked with a question mark are being researched and have not been confirmed yet. I feel strongly enough that they were my past lives that I have included them. While my intuition of past lifetimes has grown over time I’m still not 100% but very close.

This lives are often researched extensively to find my thread or relationship.

I have often had multiple simultaneous lifetimes. The work of Dr. Michael Newton and several others has discovered that we have between 3-7% of reincarnating souls having more than one lifetime at any one period of time.

When we incarnate we bring in a certain amount of energy. Say you incarnate with 25% of your soul energy it leaves your soul in the life between lives area often called heaven with 75% energy for potentially other lifetimes. This extra energy could also be harnessed during a lifetime if a soul decides to take on further challenges. The soul could also come in with higher amounts of energy to begin with if it is taking on what it considers a potentially challenging lifetime say 50-60% of it’s available energy.

A refined or advanced soul may come in with 25% energy but this energy is of such high quality that when the going gets tough not as much is needed.

There are several possibilities and potentials in lifetimes for experiencing a human existence. I have gleaned the material for understanding my lifetimes and interaction with other souls from studying the available information and from my own thoughts, meditations, past life regressions and from multiple highly gifted psychics and channels. The ideas, discussion and ongoing development of souls incarnating will continue to influence the journey of souls incarnating on earth.

As you look through my incarnation information I have included links for further reflection and knowledge. As many of you scroll through the list you will be stunned at the many of the names that you see.

I have only shared this list with a few people and they have all seen themselves within many of these lifetimes. This is the intent of sharing this list. I have a strong desire to inform humanity that they are far more than the life they are leading. We are all very powerful and wonderful beings.

If you find yourself intrigued by a certain name research that lifetime and as you are reading about it observe what thoughts come up for you.

I have not only discovered many of my own lives but also the lives of my soul mate.

I have seen many descriptions over the years of soul mates. My understanding and the one that I will continue to share throughout my books is that of a separate half of myself. I inhabit the male side and my literal other half is female. We can switch genders throughout our many lifetimes but I have found only male lives and female lives for my soul mate. My soul mate is my current wife Tracy and I will eventually include a list of her lives. We both are learning together and support each other in our different life missions.

I have also discovered that we all incarnate in groups initially and I have come to understand these as our twin souls and are like siblings. These twin soul groups which every soul is a part of come in as 6 – 12 souls. My twin soul group has 8 souls total.

1. Myself and my soul mate Tracy are as one

2. I will call her Kat and she is listed in my book The Awakening of a Warrior as the Pharaoh queen Hatshepsut. She has discovered almost as many lives as I have after I revealed my list below to her less than a year ago. We will often work closely throughout time to accomplish major goals with not only our soul mates but also our twin soul group. Kat has been mother, daughter, sister and wife throughout time in our mutual goal to help humanity.

3. B is often paired with Kat throughout time. They are closer to soul mates than they are twin souls. One of his lifetimes was as Spartan king Leonidas another chapter I discuss in my new book. My soul mate Tracy was queen Gorgo in that lifetime. As twin soul groups we will support each other in many different incarnations. B has been an architect in may lifetimes building Solomon;s temple as Hiram Abiff and more recently as famous Frank Lloyd Wright who never attended architect school. He didn’t need to.

4. I speak of Hercules in my book in a chapter when I was King Idomeneus of Crete during the Trojan war. A picture of the trojan horse dominates the cover of the book. Another lifetime of Hercules you may be familiar with was the US WWII General Patton. I have found many lifetimes of Patton’s who also believed in reincarnation.

5. Alexander the Great (ATG) will be in the first chapter of my next book. This twin soul was also at the Trojan war as Achilles and I will discuss a lifetime as the general Rufio in another chapter of the next book supporting another of his incarnations as Julius Caesar. He was also my son Cambyses II  in my chapter as Cyrus the Great. He was also my brother Arjuna when I was king Yudhisthira of India the first chapter of The Awakening of a Warrior. I have discovered many lifetimes working with (ATG).

6. Another twin soul I have discovered and had positively identified by the channel Kevin Ryerson was Dr. Wayne Dyer. Dyer was my brother Sahadeva during the Kurukshetra War in the epic book Mahabharata.He would also be Brother Leo and I would be brother Angelo with St Francis of Asissi. St. Francis is the reincarnation of the current Pope Francis who is implementing many of the reforms that St. Francis did during his lifetime. It’s a mission he put off for a long time. I have been a long time follower of Dr. Dyer’s work and recently was excited to see that he has started his own past life discovery. Perhaps someday we can work together on this highly evolving process that everyone can benefit from. I’m sure we have worked together in many lifetimes.

Michael Jaco

7. The only life I have discovered for twin soul Dr. Deepak Chopra is as my brother Nakula. Nakula and Sahadeva were twin souls and when I saw Dr’s Chopra and Dyer do a special PBS show together I thought they were like brothers. I have also been a long term fan of Dr Chopra and like twin souls do throughout time he has been a major contributing factor in my personal spiritual development and I hope that someday perhaps some of my insights my help influence him as well.

8. I have an unusually close affinity to this twin soul to the point where I thought I was him in several lifetimes he has had. We have such a close affinity for our twin souls that we will learn what they learn and vice versa. I have found this from my interactions with my soul mate, twin souls and larger soul group which I will talk about next. The prophet Mohamed was supported by almost our entire soul group. I saw all of our soul group as I read the about the life of Mohammed. I will write about his incarnation and what he was trying to accomplish and that our larger soul group was working to inform a group of humanity that was ready to advance. This has happened throughout time with my soul group. I have been with many spiritual masters and then returned to see that their work was continued. You will see this in the list below. Mohammed also incarnated as one of the seven kings of Abraham of which I was one as well as I discuss this lifetime in detail in one of my chapters. He was also the Kurdish Muslim General Saladin and Akbar the Great.

When I studied Akbar’s life I had so many of my own life threads I was sure it was me. I guess we have a close affinity with each other doing similar work and of course being a twin soul. Mohammed has reincarnated in Egypt. Saladin was the sultan of Egypt in his lifetime. We often return to areas that we can have the most impact and have deep spiritual roots laid. I think Egypt can potentially be a major factor in taking the religion of Islam to a higher spiritual level. Similar to it’s roots in Judaism. Christianity has evolved to higher levels after it was brought to a level to appeal to more people. Christianity is also on the brink of evolving to a higher level.

Judaism is of course the root of both religions and as I study the Kabbalah I find all the information that I have taken a lifetime looking for in a wide range of spiritual and metaphysical teachings. I would recommend the Kabbalah to anyone of any faith because it is not a religion but an advanced set of teachings. Lessons about spirituality where everyone is involved and learning is extremely different from being involved in a one way form of imprinting information. I grew up happily as a southern Baptist but find that I am currently a disciple of all the religions on earth. There have been so many wonderful and fascinating teachers throughout time why limit myself to just one? Reminds me of a quote by the philosopher Socrates when asked what country did he consider himself a citizen of and his replay was that he was a citizen of the world. After discovering all of my many past lives I feel that sentiment fits me perfectly.

I could take a group of these past lives and show you a multitude of interconnections throughout time. Interactions and life purposes shared with my larger soul group for instance. I have discovered several of my soul group throughout time. A couple of famous one’s in history were Jesus and Mary Magdalene his soul mate. Jesus and I had many past life incarnations working together as I talk about in The Awakening of a Warrior. The actress Shirley McLaine is in my soul group as is Kevin Ryerson who was my friend during the life of Jesus as John the Apostle. Another member of my soul group which can average between 12 and 20 souls is Michael Tomlinson who I wrote an article with on the website recently.

What is it like to discover a past life and do you have memories within these lives as you do in your current one? Yes, as you begin to connect with these lifetimes the memories will begin to come to you in greater and detail. If I asked you to recall what you ate three weeks ago for dinner your recall would not be instant. You would have to meditate for a moment or maybe longer but eventually you would get a sliver of a memory and then more detail would come through. Maybe you would ask someone you ate with and between the two of you you would work it out. For a long time I wondered what it would be like to meet someone that had recall and Michael Tomlinson arrived.

Here is my list of past lives. I hope that it stimulates your own awakening.

Table of Contents

The Awakening of a Warrior: Past Lives of a Navy SEAL Remembered





Chapter I              King Yudhisthira of India during the time when the Mahabharata and Bhagavad Gita was written C.3500 BCE

Chapter II             How to Access Your Own Previous life Incarnations

Chapter III           With Pharaoh Menes the Unifier of Upper and Lower Egypt as His Special Forces Nubian Head Charioteer C. 3100 BCE

Chapter IV            Nubian Egyptian Pharaoh Senusret I 1971 – 1926 BCE

Chapter V             With Patriarch Abraham as King Abimelech of Gerar 1800 BCE

Chapter VI            Warrior Sage for Pharaoh Hatshepsut to Traditional Warrior for Pharaoh Thutmose III 1560 BCE

Chapter VII          King Idomeneus of Crete C.1520 – 1470 BCE with Hercules, the crew of the Argo and at the Trojan War

Chapter VIII         Pharaoh Akhenaton’s Warrior Sage, Heir to the Throne as Prince Nakhtmin and Exodus with Moses 1470 BCE

Chapter IX           Son of Biblical Uriah, Benaiah, during King David’s Reign and was raised as a brother of King Solomon 967 BCE

Chapter X             Lycurgus of Sparta 820 – 730 BCE, regent, lawgiver and creator of the commonwealth of Sparta

Chapter XI           Numa Pompillius 2nd King of Rome 753-673 BCE

Chapter XII          Thales of Miletus Pre-Socratic Greek Philosopher 624 – 546 BCE


Chapter XIII         A Jewish General in Captivity in Babylon 580 BCE

Chapter XIV         Cyrus the Great 570 – 529 BCE the Unifier of the Persian Empire and Responsible for the Spread of Zoroastorism

Illustrerad Verldshistoria band I Ill 058.jpg

Chapter XV          Ananda Cousin and Personal Assistant to Siddhartha Gautama (Buddha) 543 – 440 BCE


Chapter XVI         Greek Philosopher Parmenides of Elea 515 – 450 BCE Founder of the Eleatic School, which influenced Socrates and Plato.


Chapter XVII        Themistocles Greek Politician and General 524 – 460 BCE

Chapter XVIII       Battle of Thermopylae with King Leonidas as Pausanias 480 BCE

Chapter XIX         Athenian General, Thucydides Author of the History of The Peloponnesian War 460 BCE

Chapter XX          Marcus Furius Camillus 446 – 365 BCE 2nd founder of Rome

Chapter XXI         Xenophon Greek Historian, Author, Philosopher, General 430 – 355 BCE

Chapter XXII        Spartan Admiral Lysander Defeats the Athenians during the Peloponnesian War 405 BCE

The Awakening of a Warrior: Past Lives of a Navy SEAL remembered

Book II

Chapter I              With Alexander the Great as Leonnatus 356 – 322 BC


Chapter II             Ashoka the Great First Unifier of India and the Spread of Buddhism 304-232 BCE

Chapter III           Maharbal, Hannibal of Carthage’s Nubian Calvary General and Military Advisor 216 BCE

Chapter IV            Pinnes of Illyria ruled briefly 230–217 BCE

Chapter IV            Roman GeneralPublius Cornelius Scipio Africanus defeats Hannibal 236–183 BCE


Chapter V             Lucias Cornellias Sulla Roman General and Statesman 138 – 78 BCE

Chapter VI            Rufio, Julius Caesar’s & Mark Anthony’s Chief of Staff 60 – 30 BCE

Chapter VII          Meeting Yeshua as the Roman Centurion Aristotle Onassis and later as a Roman Senator that Helps the Apostles 30 CE

Chapter VIII         Plutarch, Greek Historian 46-120 CE

Chapter IX           Kanishka the Great, Ruled India 78 – 103 CE

Chapter X             Pausanias the Greek traveler and geographer.  110-180 CE. Split w Twin Soul Kathy

Chapter XI           Marcus Aurelius, Roman Emperor April 26, 121 CE – March 17 180 CE

Chapter XII          St. George, born in Lydia in Palestine, was a soldier in the Roman army later venerated as a Christian martyr 23 April 303 CE

Chapter XIII         Constantine the Great, Roman Emperor 27 February 272- 22 May 337

Chapter XIV         Saint Althanasius the Great, 296 – 2 May 373


Chapter XV          Saint Augustine of Hippo 13 November 354 – 28 August 430

Saint Augustine Portrait.jpg

Chapter XVI         Theodosius the Great, Roman Emperor 346 – 17 January 395

Chapter XVII        Theodosius II, Roman Emperor (10 April 401 – 28 July 450)

Chapter XVIII        ? Pope Leo I (c. 400 – 10 November 461), also known as Saint Leo the Great, reigned from 29 September 440 to his death in 461. He was an Italian aristocrat, and was the first pope to have been called “the Great”. He is perhaps best known for having met Attila the Hun in 452 and persuading him to turn back from his invasion of Italy.


Chapter XVIII       Clovis (466 –  511) was the first king of the Franks to unite all of the Frankish tribes under one ruler, changing the form of leadership from a group of royal chieftains to rule by a single king and ensuring that the kingship was passed down to his heirs. He is considered the founder of the Merovingian dynasty, which ruled the Franks for the next two centuries.

François-Louis Dejuinne (1786-1844) - Clovis roi des Francs (465-511).jpg

Chapter XIX         Justinian the Great, Roman Emperor (482 – 14 November 565) with soul mate Theodora

Chapter XX          Dazu Huike (487-593) 2nd Patriarch of Chinese Buddhism after studying with Bodhi Dharma

Chapter XXI         Sir Lionel Druid Military King Converts to Christianity at the Behest of Merlin and Joins King Arthurs Court 500 AD

Chapter XXII        Heraclius 575 – February 11, 641 Byzantine Emperor from 610 to 641

Chapter XXIII      Emperor Taizong of Chinese Tang Dynasty (28 January 598 – 10 July 649) Chinese Golden Age

Chapter XXIV       Aldfrith of Nothumbria Ruled early Britain from 685 – 14 December 705 Started a Saxon Golden Age. Author of Beowulf.

The Awakening of a Warrior: Past lives of a Navy SEAL Remembered Book III

Chapter I              Guru Rinpoche the 2nd Buddha. 8th Century.

Chapter II             Charlemagne the Great Holy Roman Emperor 742 – 28 January 814

Chapter III           Basil I 830/835 – August 29, 886 Byzantine Emperor

Chapter IV            Rollo 1st Duke of Normandy 846 – 931

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Chapter V             Alfred the Great 849 – 26 October 899 King of England

Chapter VI            Harald Fairhair 850 – 933 First king of Norway

Chapter VII          Abd-ar-Rahman III 11 January 889/91 – 15 October 961 was the Emir and Caliph of Córdoba (912–961)

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Chapter VIII         Otto the Great 23 November 912 – 7 May 973 King of Germany, King of Italy and Holy Roman Emperor

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Chapter IX           Eric the Red 950 – 1003 Norwegian Viking that settled Greenland


Chapter X             William the Conqueror C. 1028 – 9 September 1087 First Norman King of England

Chapter XI           Raymond IV Count of Toulouse and Tripoli 1043-1105 First Crusade offered the crown of Jerusalem but refused.

Chapter XII          Henry I King of England 1068 – 1 December 1135 youngest son of William the Conqueror

Chapter XIII         Empress Matilda (Twin Soul Kathy) of England  7 February 1102 – 10 September 1167 Daughter of Henry I helps regain the throne for the line of William the Conquerer

Chapter XIV         Everard des Barres Third Knight Templar Grand Master (1147-1151) led the Second Crusade with King Louis VII. Saves the lives of King Louis VII and Eleanor of Aquitaine future wife of Henry II.

Chapter XV          Henry II king of England (5 March 1133 – 6 July 1189), Son of Empress Matilda. Married Soul Mate Eleanor of Aquitaine

Chapter XVI         Roger Bigod, 2nd Earl of Norfolk (1150–1220) With Richard the Lion Heart during the Third Crusade and as a Catalyst of the Magna Carta.

Chapter XVII        Angelo Tancredi of Reiti Knight of the Fourth Crusade to Monk with Saint Francis Of Assisi 1200 in the Fifth Crusade with St Francis as Brother Angelo.

Chapter XVIII       Frederick II 26 December 1194 – 13 December 1250 Holy Roman Emperor King of Jerusalem and Germany. Sixth Crusade.

Chapter XIX         Louis IX (25 April 1214 – 25 August 1270) Saint Louis, was King of France from 1226 until his death. Led the Seventh and Eighth Crusades. Only French king Canonized.

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Chapter XX          Edward I (17 June 1239 – 7 July 1307) King of England.  Queen and soul mate Eleanor of  Castile. Ninth Crusade

Chapter XXI         Edward III (13 November 1312 – 21 June 1377) King of England. Son was Edward IV the black prince who was the reincarnation of Alexander the Great.

Chapter XXII        Giovanni di Bicci de’ Medici (1360 – February 20/28 1429) was an Italian banker, a member of the Medici family of Florence, and the founder of the Medici Bank.

Chapter XXIII      Richard II (6 January 1367 – ca. 14 February 1400) King of England

Chapter XXIV       Henry V (16 September 1386 – 31 August 1422) King of England

Chapter XXV        Jean II, Duke of Alencon (2 March 1409 – 8 September 1476) Commander of French King Charles VII armies with Joan of Arc 1429

Chapter XXVI       Lorenzo de’ Medici (1 January 1449 – 9 April 1492) was an Italian statesman and de facto ruler of the Florentine Republic during the Italian Renaissance. Known as Lorenzo the Magnificent (Lorenzo il Magnifico) by contemporary Florentines, he was a magnate, diplomat, politician and patron of scholars, artists, and poets. He is perhaps best known for his contribution to the art world, sponsoring artists such as Botticelli and Michelangelo. His life coincided with the mature phase of Italian Renaissance and his death coincided with the end of the Golden Age of Florence.

Chapter XXVII     King Richard III King of England (1452 – 1485)

The bloody Battle of Bosworth Field ended with the death of Richard III and a decisive Lancastrian victory

From Warrior to Sage: Past lives of a Navy SEAL Remembered

Book IV

Chapter I              Jean Parisot De Valette 4 February 1495 – 21 August 1568 Grand Master of the Knights Hospitaller during the Great Siege of Malta

Chapter II             Henry Howard, 1st Earl of Northampton 25 February 1540 – 15 June 1614 Part of a group of Nobles that helped write Shakespeare’s plays

Chapter III           Yi Sun-shin April 28, 1545 – December 16, 1598) was a Korean naval commander, famed for his victories against the Japanese navy during the Imjin war in the Joseon Dynasty, and is well-respected for his exemplary conduct on and off the battlefield not only by Koreans, but by Japanese Admirals as well. Military historians have compared his naval genius to that of Admiral Horatio Nelson.

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Chapter III           Sir Walter Raleigh 1554 – 29 October 1618 Instrumental in defeating Spanish Armada and colonization of North America. Lover of Queen Elizabeth I (Twin Soul Kat)

Chapter IV            Gushi Khan 1582-1655 Enabled the 5th Dali Lama to establish political control of Tibet and was crowned King of Tibet

Chapter V             Terao Magonojo (1611 – 8 November 1672) Samurai Apprentice with Musashi Miyomoto (Michael Tomlinson)

Chapter V           ?John III Sobieski 17 August 1629 – 17 June 1696, from 1674 until his deathKing of Poland and Grand Duke of Lithuania, was one of the most notable monarchs of the Polish–Lithuanian Commonwealth. Stopped the Ottoman Turks in Vienna on September 11.

Jan III Sobieski confronts Pasha Kara Mustafa at the Gates of Vienna

Chapter VI            Charles II, Monarch of England, Scotland and Ireland 29 May 1630 – 6 February 1685

Chapter VII          Florent-Jean de Vallière (1667–1759) French Artillery Lieutenant-General of King Louis XIV Armies

Chapter VIII        Peter the Great, Tsar of Russia  9 June or 30 May 1672 – 8 February or 28 January 1725

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Chapter IX           Antonio Lucio Vivaldi 4 March 1678 – 28 July 1741 Italian Baroque composer

Chapter X             Frederick the Great (January 24, 1712 –August 17, 1786) King of Prussia (1740–1786)

Chapter XI           Charles Theodore, Prince-Elector, Count Palatine and Duke of Bavaria (December 11, 1724 – February 16, 1799)

Chapter XII          Tecumseh (March 1768 – October 5, 1813) Native American leader of the Shawnee.


Chapter XIII         Horatio Nelson, 1st Viscount Nelson, (29 September 1758 – 21 October 1805) Admiral British Navy. Mistress in later life Emma, Lady Hamilton was an early incarnation of soul group and occasional twin soul Actress Shirley McLaine


Chapter XIV         Colonel Nathan James Johnson with George Washington at Valley Forge and a Congressman with Thomas Jefferson 1776

Chapter XV          General Pierre Jacques Étienne Cambronne(26 December 1770 – 29 January 1842) Commander of the Old Guard with Napoleon 1806. Prevented the army of Napoleon from being annihilated after defeat and retreat from Waterloo.

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Chapter XVI         Brigadier General Lewis Addison Armistead

(February 18, 1817 – July 5, 1863) From the Mexican War to the Civil War battle of Gettysburg

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Chapter XVII        Major General William Tecumseh Sherman (February 8, 1820 – February 14 1891) Union Army Civil War.


Chapter XVIII     Geronimo June 1829 – February 17, 1909 Apache warrior shaman

Chapter XIX         Sitting Bull 1831 – December 15, 1890 Lakota Tribal Chief


Chapter XX          Edward VII (Albert Edward; 9 November 1841 – 6 May 1910) was King of the United Kingdom and the British Dominions and Emperor of India from 22 January 1901 until his death.

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Chapter XXI         Admiral Togo Heihachiro (27 Jan 1848 – May 30 1934) Defeated Russian fleet during Russo-Japanesse war 1904-1905

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Chapter XXI         Ludwig II (25 August 1845 – 13 June 1886) King of Bavaria Castle Builder

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Chapter XXI         William Randolph Hearst April 29, 1863 – August 14, 1951 was an American newspaper publisher who built the nation’s largest newspaper chain and whose methods profoundly influenced American journalism.[2] Hearst entered the publishing business in 1887 after taking control of The San Francisco Examiner from his father. Moving to New York City, he acquired The New York Journal and engaged in a bitter circulation war with Joseph Pulitzer‘s New York World that led to the creation of yellow journalism—sensationalized stories of dubious veracity. Acquiring more newspapers, Hearst created a chain that numbered nearly 30 papers in major American cities at its peak. He later expanded to magazines, creating the largest newspaper and magazine business in the world. Long time mistress Marion Davis was soul mate.


Chapter XXII        WW I Tank Commander with Patton

Chapter XXIII      ?Mohammad Mosaddegh (16 June 1882 – 5 March 1967), was the democratically elected Prime Minister of Iran from 1951 until 1953, when his government was overthrown in a coup d’état orchestrated by the British MI6 and the American CIA. An author, administrator, lawyer, prominent parliamentarian, his administration introduced a range of progressive social and political reforms such as social security, rent control, and land reforms. His government’s most notable policy, however, was the nationalization of the Iranian oil industry, which had been under British control since 1913 through the Anglo-Persian Oil Company (APOC / AIOC) (later British Petroleum or BP).


Chapter XXIV       Lt. Ronald W. Reeves, Tuskegee Airman During WW II (1924 – Killed in Action 24 March, 1945)

Chapter XXV        Olof Palme Prime Minister of Sweden

(30 January 1927 – 28 February 1986) was a Swedish Social Democratic politician, statesman and prime minister. A longtime protégé of Prime Minister Tage Erlander, Palme led theSwedish Social Democratic Party SAP from 1969 until his assassination in 1986, and was a two-term Prime Minister of Sweden, heading a Privy Council Government from 1969 to 1976 and a cabinet government from 1982 until his death. Electoral defeats in 1976 and 1979 marked the end of Social Democratic hegemony in Swedish politics, which had seen 40 years of unbroken rule by the party. While leader of opposition, he parted domestic and international interests and served as special mediator of the United Nations in the Iran–Iraq War, but returned to power as Prime Minister after electoral victoriesin 1982 and 1985.

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Chapter XXVI       Navy SEAL to Warrior Sage

(September 27, 1960 –)

Spartan 16 Chapter 2

The upcoming fiction novel of SEAL’s in action. If you missed or need to review Chapter 1 go here: http://www.michaeljaco.com/2014/08/spartan-16-chapter-one/



Kerosene lanterns spaced evenly along the walls of the cavern flickered, jumped and twisted like grotesque, tortured figures. The eerie light caused a whiteout effect in Jake’s NVG’s whenever he scanned for movement. It was deathly quiet. It was like they were all in a horror movie searching for the undead in the subterranean chamber of a castle.

The SEAL team six and CAG soldiers began to fan out at the bottom of the stairs. Jake saw the tables and combat equipment were strewn in chaos about the floor as if the enemy had made a mad dash to leave in one helluva hurry. But where could they go? There was only one exit back towards the surface where they had come from. The odor of burnt motor oil assailed his nostrils. As an assault team explosive breacher, Jake had used military grade dynamite to open up blockages in tunnels and he instantly recognized the smell. The sight of pulverized rocks fanning out from one of the chambers quickly confirmed his suspicions.

“Break into groups and search the passageways,” he ordered. “Looks like the bastards made their escape!”

The men quickly formed into assault groups, lined up behind each other on six tunnels as their troop leaders shouted, “Go! Go! Go!”

“Form on me, Troop Two,” Jake shouted as he ran to the probable escape tunnel. The toes of his boots dug deep in the fine, gray soil, dust exploding around him.  He sprinted into the tunnel with his muzzle down, ready for action. Sweat trickled down his temples.  His breath was short and sharp as he took up position in the center.  Sliding to a halt, his voice tight, he pointed to an open doorway, while keeping his muzzle and focus down the tunnel passageway.

“Two right.”

Two of his men exploded into the room to clear it. His breath was labored from excitement and he willed himself to calm down. Dust clung to his nostrils and face, itching.  Sweat stung his eyes.  He blinked rapidly and told himself to ratchet down. Breathe deeply from the diaphragm as you learned in martial arts.

“Damn,” he muttered angrily as his team moved methodically down the tunnel.  Where the hell were the tangos?  Checking each room to make sure they didn’t leave themselves exposed to a rear ambush, his team found no one.

“They’ve hightailed it,” Jordan muttered, coming to a halt near Jake.

“Those bastards have some how escaped,” Jake agreed, a grate of frustration mirrored in his voice.  He glanced over at Jordan. “Take point, Rebel.” He pulled his muzzle up and let Jordan take over.

“Roger,” he said, focused discipline in his voice.

“Red Team leader, Red Two, we are investigating a possible breakout in the lower level,” Jake informed the commanding officer of his squadron.

“Roger Red Two, notify me when you have confirmation and I’ll send the Reaper Drones, to begin searching in that vicinity outside the cave system.”

Jordan and Jake began to stagger, slip and almost fall at times over the mounting, slippery rock debris as they moved further down the empty tunnel. Jake began to notice that light was bouncing off the curve of the right hand turn on the wall ahead of them. When they rounded the corner, the Troop all stood transfixed, eyes widening in disbelief.

Jordan whistled and whispered with awe in his southern drawl, “They didn’t spare the explosives on this exit hole, did they?”

Twisting his head around, Jake saw the blast had taken out a massive portion of the mountain, the opening as tall as a three-story building. As they rotated their NVG’s up on their helmet rails, locking them on top of their helmets, a striking view of a lush, green valley and steep, rocky mountain range across from them, revealed itself.

One of their teammates, Rudy came up and stood next to Jake.  “At least they won’t be using that demo on American troops and Afghan civilians,” he growled, contempt in his tone.

Jake nodded.  “Red Leader, the Taliban has blasted an escape hole on the southeastern face of the mountain.  We have no visual on any troop movement at this time, over.”

“Roger Red Two, we will relocate the entire team to your position and initiate search and destroy mission.”

“Good!” Jake felt triumph explode through his chest as he turned to his men and said, “We’re going to continue to track down those assholes until we wipe them out.  Let’s get briefed,” he ordered his men, turning around.

Ed Summers huddled his men together for the brief.  “The Reaper’s controllers observed several of the Taliban fleeing into the closest village down from the breakout point.”

The sun’s rays warmed Jake as he stood, listening to the new plan.  The satisfaction flowed through Jake as the hunt was finally on again.  They broke up, heading for the CH-47 helicopters that were coming in to pick them up.

Once on board the Chinook, Jake felt like an entrapped thoroughbred at the gate, seconds before the bell rang, allowing the gates to fly open so he could gallop free.  Edgy restlessness and tension fired the muscles from his crouched position on the canvas seat.  He was squeezed in with every team member that could find a place to be in on this hunt. His boot tapped on the deck of the shaking, shuddering helo as it flew them toward the coming confrontation. His destiny with the enemy stalked him, unseen and unknown and he tasted sweet revenge in his mouth.

“The Ride of the Valkyries” is playing in my head Jake shouted into Jordan’s ear as they headed rapidly towards the village.

“I Love the smell of Napalm in the Morning” Jordan said, grinning in reference to the song and the movie quote from “Apocalypse Now”.

He listened as one of the Reaper’s operators updated them through their comms as they flew nose down and tail up increasing to combat insertion speed.

“The villagers are either fleeing or are being driven out by the Taliban,” one controller said, his voice charged with excitement, ready for the coming action.

Jake’s mouth thinned with impatience.   The villagers were lucky, scum like these bastards would normally use them as human shields.

The first Flying Banana that landed kicked up dust in every direction from the spinning twin rotors.

From a window of the helo, Jake could see two Afghan villages laid out before him like miniature buildings in a sand box that they used for briefings. They had spied those villages from the blown out hole in the mountainside and this vantage point gave him a better idea of what they were up against. Further in the distance to the West, Jake saw the sprawling town of Spin Boldak. Spin, as he had covered in his Intel brief, was the one of the most active border crossing points between Afghanistan and Pakistan.

He felt the helo lurch under him as it descended rapidly in an evasive flight pattern in full combat mode, door gunner tense and alert on her six-barreled 7.62 minigun. Flaring at the last minute, the bird prepared to land.  Jake felt the hard landing travel up through his spine as the helo dropped into the loose gravel and sandy soil.

The thunder of the Boeing helo’s two massive engines and whirling blades shook the fuselage and his canvas seat so hard Jake felt it was going to tear apart. The high pitch speed was needed in case they took fire and had to rapidly take off to avoid being hit.

“Let’s go!” Jake yelled as he leaped up.  Elated  to be on the ground and on the hunt, the visceral reaction flowed powerfully through him as he led the charge off the ramp of the CH-46. They sprinted towards the ramp of the helo with gun muzzles down.  The aluminum, corrugated ramp reminded him of a Navy landing craft and they were storming the beaches of Normandy in WWII.  Only this time, storming from the air to hunt down the enemy.

The hurricane force winds of nearly one hundred miles an hour from the prop blasts buffeted his body, around making it impossible to run in a straight line.  The brown out, a violent sandstorm that was generated by the blades blasted the exposed parts of his body in what felt like thousands of tiny pinpricks gouging into his flesh.

He could see stretched out before him nearly fifty brown mud brick houses of the village. Limbs of lush green trees and bushes were flailing madly back and forth from the helo’s turbo blasted air mixed with sun and heated  desert air. The hot kerosene smell poured out the engines exhaust and covered him with its noxious odor.

“Break right, Red Team,” Jake bellowed over his right shoulder.

Jake glanced left and saw CAG and a new group of fresh Rangers pouring off their helo’s to the left flank of the village houses.


Jake watched in horror as an RPG rocketed out of the house in front of them and passed close to one of the helo’s before exploding behind it. He glimpsed his last man hurriedly leaping off the ramp.  Relief tunneled through Jake as he watched the helo spring instantly upward as if it was on a coiled spring and into the air. The door gunner mashed her trigger to cover their escape as the bird blasted off the target.


Flames leapt from the six barrels of the electric powered Gatling gun on board the helo as a stream of hundreds of rounds flew into the brown and red mud brick houses just ahead of them.

Jake watched as mini explosions smashed into the house, peppering the external walls from one end to another as the gunner whipped the weapon back and forth. Screams of Taliban men pierced the air where they had been hiding in those buildings.

“Game on!” Jake shouted into his comms as he ran. “We’re taking RPG fire and going hot, Red Leader.”   Huffing, explosions of air erupted out of his opened mouth, Jake heard Summer respond.  Now, it was time to rock ‘n roll.

Jake roared, “Send ‘em to hell Red Two!” and they opened up, tracer rounds reaching out and pounding through and around the window where the shot came from as they ran toward the house. Jake heard more glass shatter and the bricks surrounding the windows exploded into pieces and became deadly projectiles flying into the house.

Fine dust choked the air making it difficult to see due to the helo’s taking off, dispersing the dust hundreds of feet into the air.  He felt as if he were in a fog.  Coughing the dust out of his tortured lungs, Jake smelled the farmers livestock animal dung mixed in with the rolling, swirling dust surrounding them. The fine dust stuck to everyone’s sweaty features, turning them dark as they charged toward the house where the RPG was shot from.

Whoosh! Boom!

Jake jerked his chin up, the sound of an explosion coming from behind the building they were assaulting. The remote controller in White Sands, New Mexico had fired a hellfire missile from the overhead Predator, providing air support on their right flank. Fleeing Taliban fighters running out the back were blasted into pieces.  The air turned into a red mist.

Jake heard more explosions coming from their left flank.

Whoosh! Boom! Boom!

The air vibrated violently with the explosion.  Two more Hellfire missiles had exploded deeper into the village. The air was rent with small, violent earthquakes shaking the air apart around them. Automatic weapons fire cranked up from the heavy weapons men of the Ranger Battalion on the left side of the village.

Jake glanced left and saw the white flashes of explosions followed by Delta warriors firing as they ran. “Get some boys” Jake yelled across the village. “Hammer those son’s of bitches!”

“Clear all the houses” Jake barked into his mic to his Delta friends, “Don’t let any of these bastards escape.” Above all, Jake didn’t want Zawahiri, the ringleader of having the children murdered, slip away to kill again.  The rest of the Rangers still gathering Intel in the cave complex had passed on earlier that his body wasn’t among those killed.  The bastard had escaped.  Not for long if Jake had anything to do with it. 

Jake initiated the assault into the first house where the original RPG had been fired fro.  He aimed his M-4, firing into the doorframe next to the doorknob as they galloped forward. Rounds splintered the frame, exploding in all directions.  The door cracked open just before he hit the inward opening door on the run, smashing it open with a loud bang into the wall. Four of them instantly flooded the room and all silenced M-4’s began firing at two-bearded tango’s limping out the open back door. Rounds tore into their bodies and heads sending them both crashing to the concrete floor. Splattered blood and pockmarked holes in the house’s white walls. It left a gruesome testimony of their artwork.

“Clear left, clear right, all clear, move!” Jake barked, spinning on his heel, his M-4 raised and ready.

Jake heard more firing in the next house down the dirt street as they came out of the door of their cleared house. He saw a group of Red Men move quickly and meticulously through their sector of the village. “Cover the roof of that two story house,” Jake ordered, pointing down the street calling out, as he positioned his men. “Jordan take up position on the corner of that house.”

“Roger that, Chief,” Jordan said as he moved with gun raised up to eye level, carefully scanning as he moved up the narrow street to take up position.

Jake halted for a moment in the middle of a rutted street, two mud houses on either side of him.  Lifting his arm, he wiped his mouth with the back of the sleeve.  He watched as both forces methodically worked their way through the village, killing, or driving out any Taliban they ran up against. Jake could see that none of the tango’s were surrendering. Choosing to fight to the death. That’s perfectly all right with me…

A herd of about twenty-five abandoned, frightened brown and white goats moved all around Jake through the street. “Excuse me, Ma’am” Jake wisecracked as a female goat and her babies impeded his forward movement. The mother goat locked eyes with him with expressive blue eyes and as if she understood he was a friendly and quickly moved her babies around him, bleating and baaing.

“Smart little animals aren’t they?” Jordan laughed after witnessing the event.

Their bells tinkled and their bleating sounds echoed off the buildings. Their pungent smell wafted by Jake’s nostrils.  He hated the smell of goats and goat dung, cute or not.

Automatic weapons fire from AK-47’s and the spit of silenced M-4’s, curses in Pashtu and English from inside the building next to the herd, broke the serene moment.  It sent the herd of goats scurrying and bleating out their own brand of warning, racing down the street.

Jake rapidly scanned the surroundings at the edge of the village, holding security with his team.  Several of his men were on a knee as they were grabbing a five-minute rest.

Whoosh, boom!

Squinting, Jake looked up.  The Reaper’s were high in the sky and still firing Hellfire missiles here and there in the valley below them. When a missile struck its target, he saw brilliant, blinding light followed a split second later by the loud thunder clap of an explosion.  Concussion waves walked and rippled throughout the village, vibrating through his guts and chest.

Jake lowered his narrowing gaze.  He saw movement through green foliage further down in the valley.  “Look! There are those assholes, in the valley making their way to the next village,” he yelled..  Jake ordered his team into a hard trot to go after them.

“We’re through the village, Red Leader. Enemy troops still in sight, continuing pursuit.” Jake called out through explosive gasps of air. Sweat streamed down his face and he could feel his specially made Cry Precision desert cammo uniform stained with blood and dirt sticking to him, soaking wet. “Stay hydrated, men,” he called out grabbing his own Camelbak water tube, hanging over his left shoulder. The teipid water felt good running down his dry, tight throat.

The sun was getting lower in the sky over their right shoulders and began to cast frantic shadows of their running forms on the sandy ground ahead of them.

The rate of fire had been gradually picking up as the assault force picked off the stragglers in the rear. Any Taliban that were caught fleeing in the open, were shot. The mountains that were normally brown and dry were lush and green with foliage from the winter snowmelt and rains. This afforded concealment for the tangos as they tried to escape. Jake heard what sounded like angry hornets zipping over their heads. He had heard that sound many times and it usually sent a chill through him whenever he heard it. The sound he knew all to well was the sonic crack of supersonic bullets breaking the sound barrier over their heads. “Jordan remember that time we were stung by hornets as boy’s in the swamp?” Jake called as out as they ran.

“Yea, but I’m pretty sure the stingers on those are a might bit more painful,” and Jordan snickered.

As they looked up, pieces of leaves, twigs and bark began to shower down on them as if they were in a thunderstorm.  Jake cursed softly.  “That fire is still ineffective men, so we are going to press ahead,” he called out as they continued forward at a trot, ready for action.

“Red Leader,” Jake called, “we’re taking ineffective fire over our heads, but it’s a little close for comfort. Can the Reapers locate and illuminate the threat?”

“Negative Red Two, the UAV’s, Unmanned Aerial Vehicles, have no visible targets. They must be shooting from inside houses.”

“Roger.” Jake replied, disheartened and worried for his men’s safety.  House-to-house searches were the most deadly to them.

Jake broke out of the concealment first at the edge of the last village before the Pakistan border. He saw flashes coming from deep inside a darkened house

“Take cover!” Jake yelled over his shoulder as he dove for a group of small boulders to his right. Crack, crack, crack as rounds exploded in the stones, sending rock chips and dust screaming in every direction.

Jordan landed next to him, “That was close, Jake,” he grunted in a strained voice. They hugged the ground trying to make small.

“Too fuckin’ close.”  Jake saw they were on the top edge of a ravine that ran up the right side of the village. “Break to the right, Red Squadron.”

“There’s a wadi, ravine, we can use as cover and concealment,” Jordan pointed out, gesturing sharply to his right.

Jake nodded and rolled to the right between two larger boulders and sighted in on a figure holding a weapon at about three hundred yards inside a building. It was a long shot with a short-barreled weapon. The red dot from his EOTECH sight was lined up on the head of the tango as Jake gently squeezed the trigger, dropping him with the first shot.

Two more figures dropped in quick succession as Jordan joined him in the shooting.

The Taliban broke contact and began running further into the village. The tango’s looked back, desperation and hatred in their faces.   Fear showed in their eyes, their movements jerky for the first time in the fight. Two Red Team snipers raced up with their 300 Win-mag’s with bipods. “Take it to ‘em boy’s” Jake said.  The snipers hit the ground with a sharp exhale of air and took aim through their long scopes. Two more tango’s with thick, black beards and loose fitting, brown salwar kameez clothing, were sent sprawling. Dust clouds erupted where their bodies slammed backward into the ground.

The Taliban were nearing the border with Pakistan, which lay less than a mile on the opposite side of the village.

Bud’s normally dry unemotional voice was tinged with anxiety. “Pick it up, Red Men!”

Jake felt his anxiety. The strain from over twelve hours of hard fighting was beginning to tell on everyone. Sweat rolling down his face in rivulets, he shouted into the mic to his team, “Sunset’s getting close.  Let’s finish these fuckers before they get across the border!” Their shadows were getting longer now as the sun dipped lower towards the horizon.

Jake had been on missions in the past where they had penetrated Pakistan for several miles, chasing fleeing Taliban. The CIA Chief of Station and Admiral McCafferty via secure videophone had told them specifically and unequivocally during the mission briefing, “Do not under any circumstance cross over the border during the operation.”

“What’s that about?” Jake had wondered out loud to Jordan during the brief. “We normally chase those bastards down until we finish them.”

Jordan had shrugged at the time.  “Got me Chief.”

Now that order was weighing heavily on them.

Jake and Jordon with the rest of Troop Two raced ahead on point of the Red Men. They were on the right flank of a pincer movement. CAG and the Rangers were clearing up the left side of the village like a volcano spewing magma, consuming everything in its path. Jake knew they needed to extend their lines so that they came together above the remaining Al- Qaeda group so that none could escape.  The two teams would then collapse in on them and destroy with a vengeance what was left.  Jake remembered the historic Battle of Cannae in which the Carthaginian general, Hannibal, had annihilated eighty thousand Roman legionnaires in a similar pincer’s movement.

He grinned and glanced at Jordan and said in a raspy general Patton tone,  “I hope like Hannibal we can destroy these sons of bitches.”

Jordan gave him an evil grin and a nod, continuing on at a fast pace, the village houses on their left.

The sound of a Soviet era DShK .50 caliber machine gun erupting snapped Jake out of his revelry.

Thump, thump, thump, fast, heavy, loud, just ahead and on the left of their ravine.  Jake could hear yelling, screaming and shouting in at least two different languages. His heart clenched and seemed to miss a beat when he determined the screams were that of American soldiers calling for help.

“Come on men!  We’ve got to help them,” Jake shouted over his right shoulder. They picked up the pace, all of them now breathing hard with the extra exertion and adrenaline dumping into their bodies.

Jake made an instant assessment that the side of the two-story building they were advancing towards was not being watched. All of the Taliban in the house were focused on the exposed CAG assault group.

“Red leader, we are moving in to assist CAG,” Jake gasped.  He’d barely gotten the words out as they picked the pace up to a sprint.

“Roger Red Two, we will cover you from the wadi,” Ed’s voice came back in ragged breaths as the command element rushed up to help provide cover.

Rasps of air tore out of Jake’s mouth as he lunged forward, scrambling through the ravine, leaping over small boulders, dodging thick, entangling brush, the shouts and screams of the trapped Americans growing louder.  Now more urgent.

A sharp, nagging thought pulled at Jake that he should hold his position.  Stay where they were.  But men were in trouble. THEIR men.   He dismissed it as an unwanted distraction and refocused on sprinting even faster, his legs cramping with the sheer power of his long strides and lunges.

Jake motioned with his left bloodstained gloved hand. He pointed where he wanted his troop to follow him. They were racing like thoroughbreds toward a metal gate in a ten-foot high perimeter wall. Anger surged through Jake as he thought of the Talban manning the machine gun cutting down his friends in Delta and the Ranger Battalion. Focus that anger. Use it to power my muscles. Use the anger to smash through that gate and enter the building like a tornado rips a house apart.

We’re going to make it! Jubilation soared through him. Jake could hear his band of brothers in step right behind him. They surged forward, like the thrust of a Spartan spearhead towards the gate.

What is it like to discover your past lives?

You were eons in the making.

Discovering who you have been is the greatest key

for reaching your full potential.

In my new book “The Awakening of Warrior: Past Lives of a Navy SEAL Remembered” I give many accounts throughout the book about my struggle to overcome the nagging doubts of whether or not I had lived previous lives as historical figures. Most people are very comfortable believing they have incarnated before. Over half the population of the earth believes in the transmigration of the soul but few literally connect with a past lifetime.

As a Navy SEAL, combat veteran, SEAL Team Six ,Red Man operator with over twenty-four years of experience and a senior enlisted officer my peers have always held me in high esteem. What was it that got me into this incredibly challenging position among the crème de la crème of Special Warfare operators? I have always had high integrity and unrelentingly pursued excellence in all that I do. I have also made it a primary component of my character to share with others what I felt helped lead me to a high level of excellence. Whatever that may be.

Past life exploration is part of the process that has continued my transformation in this life towards an unconquerable belief that we all have greatness within us. As the senior enlisted of the first phase of Basic Underwater Demolition SEAL BUD/S training the students looked up to me as an ideal SEAL that many of them desired to emulate. First phase of BUD/S contains the notorious Hell Week of training and to make it through this week of virtually no sleep and constant extreme physical activity everyone has to dig deep within their core to find the ability to continue on.

I became very scientific and artistic in apply pressure to mold and shape students. Like a piece of molten steel pulled from the fire of the furnace I hammered away like a skilled artisan shaping metal into a work of art. Every life you have lived is like going into the fire and coming out and being shaped into a finer and more exquisite work of art. A Japanese samurai sword of exceptional quality takes many months of work to make. The samurai sword smith considered his work a sacred art. A typical sword needed to be heated and folded many times before the right quality was achieved. Once the sword was chosen by its master it was considered an extension of his soul. The samurai treated his sword with reverence and awe.

The Japanese believe in reincarnation and like the samurai I had reverence for shaping the future souls of the Naval SEAL community and took great care in my work.

What typically goes through your mind when you initially begin to connect with past lifetimes? I’d long held a belief that I was incarnate in previous lifetimes so the process of finding and connecting with my soul development throughout history was like a fait accompli.

But what is it like for someone that has never tasted the sweet victory of connecting with a previous lifetime? I will let my new friend describe her experience in her own words.

Interestingly, one year ago any kind of past life exploration or reincarnation was nonexistent in my mind…I thought. I was an average AMERICAN woman, living my life, enjoying my children and grandchildren…traveling with my husband AND knowing that change was coming.

We both felt it…felt something, but what?

In my daily perusal of the internet I “happened” across Michael Jaco’s website, read the entire content in one setting, and ordered his book, “The Intuitive Warrior”.  When it arrived, my husband grabbed it and read it before I even had a chance to look at the book.  Of course, I was able to finally read it, and when I was finished, I immediately emailed Michael, asking him if he was real or just some weirdo with a hidden agenda.  How could a Navy SEAL actually be exploring past lives and reincarnation?

As emails began to be shared between the two of us he began to share a little more of his explorations and sent me a list of his past lives.  My husband and I read it and then were completely convinced that Michael Jaco was a complete head case…maybe too many vaccinations?  We disregarded his book and continued on with our lives as usual.

In the meantime, Mr. Jaco again emailed me asking me for my response to the information he had shared…I told him precisely what I thought.  A few weeks passed and this unsteady feeling kept bothering me.  I awoke one morning to an “Ah ha” and went into my meditation time thinking something was about to occur….. I literally envisioned being in another place at another time.  I shared the info with Michael who confirmed that he actually lived at that place during that time……. All of a sudden, my past lives began to come to me in torrents of information.  Not only was I confused but also fearful, I had never experienced anything like this in my life and didn’t want to jump into some sort of insanity…..LOL.

Michael suggested I seek counsel regarding these past lives. As a result, I went to see my REIKI practitioner, Kara Emmy, who confirmed to me that Michael Jaco was legitimate and a very evolved soul.  Having been a longtime client of Kara’s, I shared my visions with her and requested her guidance.  She helped me clarify what I was seeing and encouraged me to explore all that came to me.

In the meantime, I also sought help from Terry Zinn who is a specialized kinesiologist.  She muscled tested me to confirm or refute the lives I felt I had lived.   Unbelievably, we had about a 90% accuracy rate between my visions and her muscle testing results.  We were both pretty excited and impressed.

It seemed that my Iife was on the precipice of change. Since I was finally willing to explore more extensively, Michael suggested I also seek help from the well-respected psychic and author, Kevin Ryerson. Mr. Ryerson has channeled many lifetimes for the dancer, actress, and author Shirley MacLaine.

Unbelievably, my past life exploration has mushroomed into many lives, many places, many adventures and with many new friends, Michael and Tracy Tomlinson, being part of our own soul family.

One of my lives of interest is that of THEODORA, the daughter of Empress THEODORA and Emperor Justinian. AHTUN RE, who speaks through Mr. Ryerson told me that I was the daughter of Michael Jaco when Michael was Emperor Justinian and Michael’s wife, Tracy, was Empress THEODORA.   My husband was the court physician during that time of 515 CE when we all lived and knew each other.

AHTUN RE explained that the four of us shared a twin soul relationship, which means that our souls were created from the same SOURCE and that we have coexisted throughout time as siblings.

I would be remiss in not mentioning our most beloved twin souls, Tracy and Michael Jaco.  They have opened my husband and I up to many wonderful thoughts through many shared conversations and past life experiences.  You two are an inspiration and we thank you.

I feel incredibly fortunate to have had the opportunity to seek several different counselors, none of which knew of the information imparted from one another.  ALL of the sessions with each practitioner completely validated one another and deepened my past life exploration.

Sonia Martin, my BEST practitioner, summed this all up when she said, “Why wouldn’t there be confirmation among the practitioners when we are all seeking the same truth?” I liked that statement.

We have learned through this marvelous adventure that souls reincarnate over and over again…exploring, learning and enjoying what life has to offer…that different types of soul relationships occur… soul mates, twin souls, soul groups.  Levels of twin soul relationships are being explored, new research is being observed and the evolvement of the soul is taking place. It is my sincere desire to help those interested in soul exploration and reincarnation to make the leap into the next dimension of life.



Kat’s amazing transformation and discovery of previous incarnations is not unique but common with people I have worked with. Kat mentions Soul Mates, which is literally a separated half of you as discussed by Shirley MacLaine in her book the Camino: A Journey of the Spirit. My wife Tracy Jo has been identified as my soul mate. We often but not always come together in time to work together and advance as soul mates. Do you feel you are with your soul mate? I’ve found that a soul mate relationship can be very rewarding and challenging at the same time. We are here to grow as spiritual beings and who would know how to motivate us to our full potential better than an actual piece of ourselves?

Kat and her husband are twin souls. When we are birthed initially as souls we usually arrive in groups of 6 to 12 twin souls, which are like siblings. There are 8 twin souls in our group of which we have found then all. Twin souls often come together singly or in groups to work together and learn in the environment of Earth’s third dimensional reality. Kat was Queen Hatshepsut of Egypt in a lifetime that I talk about in my book. Her husband in this life was Spartan King Leonidas in a previous lifetime which I also talk about in the book. Twin souls can be mates, offspring, siblings, friends or work mates. Our souls depart for the place between lives when we release our mortal clothes or as Henry David Thoreau said, “The soul comes from without into the body, as into a temporary abode, and it goes out of it anew as it passes into other habitations, for the soul is immortal.” We come up with a game plan for our next incarnation in the abode between mortal lives and often meet with our larger soul group for a huddle and game-winning plan before we break for the next life in 3D.

A soul group usually consists of around 20 souls on average. Michael Tomlinson is part of my soul mate and twin soul’s larger soul group in which we interact many times throughout time to also help each other develop. Michael and I have discovered many lifetimes working together not just to help our soul group but to also help the larger community of humanity. Look back in former articles to see several lifetimes of interactions that Michael and I work together and what that interaction is like on a soul group level. Shirley MacLaine is coincidentally part of my larger soul group and has been unwittingly motivating me to excel and develop my own past lives. We’ve had several past lives of interaction as I’ve discovered so far.

Discovering your own past lives is one of the most productive and empowering ways to advance to your highest potential in your lifetime. My book gives possibly one of the most intriguing past lifetime accounts in history. We are in a period of great change. As Kat said in her account: “It seemed that my Iife was on the precipice of change.” Many people fear change. I speak in my book “The Awakening of a Warrior” how fear is the opposite of love, holds us back from reaching our full potential and is in no way a positive. Do you love yourself? Before you can ever truly love anyone or anything else you must first learn to love yourself.

When you discover loving yourself more fully you will naturally gravitate to exploring deeper aspects of yourself. Deep within your core self is your heat, your fire. When you touch that fire you will not be burned you will be transformed into something far greater. You have been eons in the making reach down and find your amazing potential.

What can past life research do for you?

I know many of you question what value could arise in the discovery of your own past life incarnations. Personally I have found an amazing amount of gratification and believe that everyone can experience a similar if not even greater level of fulfillment and pleasure. The techniques for accessing your individual past lives are scientific, professional and easy to do.

Many of my own experiences are detailed in my new book The Awakening of a Warrior: Past Lives of a Navy SEAL Remembered. In this article I’ll outline and give examples of what many others and I are experiencing and profiting from the rich treasure of our past lives through simple techniques. What can you gain from past life research?

-        I have discovered why I naturally have proclivities and skills that came easily to me. For instance having success becoming a Navy SEAL and excelling as a warrior became clear when I found many lifetimes as Spartan, Roman and Viking warriors to name but a few. What comes easily to you? Would you be fascinated to find you have excelled in your current area of expertise in many lifetimes? What are you drawn to?

-        Family members and friends that I have been really close to were found to have incarnated with me through multitudes of lifetimes. Discovering this made clear to me why we were so close and natural with each other. Would you be surprised to learn you have incarnated with your family, close friend or significant other for eons? Would it intrigue to know that you have been part of a soul group that works together helping each other throughout time?

-        I have had release from physical, emotional and psychological trauma from past lives. If we dig far enough back into our lifetimes we unearth and often instantly release blocking and debilitating trauma from the past. Do you suffer from unexplainable pain? Do you have inexplicable fears and or psychological issues that you or no one around you understands?

-        Discovering past lifetimes made history come alive for me like no lecture or book could ever do. My view of current events in the world is much clearer after having seen the long struggle throughout time to arrive where humanity is at today. Do you wonder at how the governmental, religious and economic systems seem to have evolved the way they have? Would it surprise you if you have been closely involved in many different governments, religions and economic systems other than your current one throughout time?

There are many deeper aspects of past life discovery that are too numerous to relate here. The overall scope of my intent here is to communicate this deeply rewarding possibility that exists within each and every one of us. We can all discover that we have been here on earth before many times. It lies just below the surface of our consciousness waiting for us to discover this hidden treasure. It’s buried so that until and when we are ready the teacher will arrive. Are you ready?

We incarnate to experience, learn, over come challenges and grow from them and ultimately to love on a deeper and ever more exquisite level in every new lifetime. Why wouldn’t we want to keep coming back?

Reincarnation is like experiencing a thrilling ride at your favorite amusement theme park. Do you ride that exhilarating ride just once? Do you ride just one ride or do you cycle through many different ones? Does it take you many trips to experience all that you want to encounter? Of course there are many souls that want to experience these rides so we may not get to all we want to encounter in just one trip. Do you enjoy coming back with different family members, friends, significant other, your close soul group, and have a different experience? Such is life and so are our many lifetimes.

Another joy that I have experienced through sharing my past lifetimes is meeting new people and watching and learning from them as they experience their own past life discoveries. One of the joys of sharing something exciting and life changing is that you learn just as much from others experiences as you do from your own.

One such newfound friend and part of my soul group as I’ve discovered is Michael Tomlinson who I met after he read my first book The Intuitive Warrior. I had been drawn to the work of the famous samurai warrior Musashi Miyamoto since I was a young man studying martial arts long before I had a full understanding of past lifetimes. I read the book authored by Musashi The Book of Five Rings, which is more a philosophical work than a teaching of how to be a warrior. Even Japanese housewives today read this classic work of art and garner inspiration. The book has been translated into English and has long been a hit in America and elsewhere.

I discovered several years ago that I was Miyomoto’s close student and friend Terao Magonojo throughout much of his lifetime where we fought together in many battles and I was also his second at his many famous duels.

Michael and I eventually got into a discussion about past lifetimes and this eventually led to Michael’s own independent discovery of a lifetime as Miyamoto Musashi. I will let Michael describe his life as Miyamoto and how he initially became involved in past life research.

I happened upon Michael Jaco’s book The Intuitive Warrior one day while searching for a friend’s book on Amazon. Michael’s book was offered as recommended reading, and it was the only other book offered to me that day, which was kind of odd. I checked his book out on Amazon and decided to buy it because it looked like interesting reading.  While I was reading Michael’s book over the course of several weeks I kept getting these odd notions that I knew Michael and I had heard a lot of what was in the book before.

What I am talking about here is not that I had a formulated idea about what I was reading or prior knowledge of the subject matter, it was like I was hearing the words come right out of my own mind. I know this sounds strange and trust me, this has never happened to me before. It was so disconcerting that I mentioned it to my wife one day. I told her “this book I’m reading now is strange, it’s like I know this author from somewhere, it feels like it parallels my own mind” she looked at me and smiled and I said to her “yeah I know that sounds crazy but I just can’t explain it”.

After reading The Intuitive Warrior I looked up Michael on Facebook and messaged him that I was a long time martial artist, and that I had enjoyed his book. I didn’t mention to him how the book had made me feel while reading it because I didn’t want him to think I was some crazy person contacting him.  A few months later a family member of mine posted a photo of me when I was a toddler on Facebook and Michael mentioned that after looking at the photo he had the intuition that we had known each other in a past life.  That started a conversation between us on the aspects of reincarnation and how I had gotten a lot of strange impressions while reading his book. I have always believed in reincarnation but had never really talked about it to very many people. At this point Michael gave me a great base of knowledge on how to get started down the past life regression path.

I decided to look up some past life regression hypnotherapists in my area and found a lady named Diane Ross. She has been a licensed hypnotherapist for quite a long time and I got a positive feeling from her when we first met. While in college I majored in Drawing and Printmaking and in a Psychology class I remembered learning about hypnosis, so I had a basic understanding of how it worked.  Diane explained to me about the different brain wave states and assured me that hypnotherapy was based in science and not some sideshow act. I mentioned to her that I was interested in past life study but I was just curious about what would happen. She explained that being curious and not having an agenda would probably give me the best results.

During the initial stages of my second past life regression I looked down at my feet and noticed they were covered with silk embroidered foot coverings that I had never seen before. I had a matching pair of baggy styled leg coverings on and around my waist I could see a wide wrapping and two distinct swords. I was walking down a very nice gravel path and I was in Kyoto. I have never been to Japan before so this knowledge came to me as a surprise. I was on my way to have a duel with another Samurai. I was then progressed to the moment of the duel while the two of us were in a position to draw our swords. I could see the Samurai across from me and his intent to attack. As soon as I sensed his intent I drew my sword and cut him down.

Later during the regression I was exiting a house in which there was a meeting about battle strategy and as I stepped out to the porch area I saw Michael Jaco standing with several of our Samurai clan and I could tell he was in charge of them. Michael Jaco followed along as we walked to the battle and he was always on my right hand side. During one of these battles we were engaged with enemy Samurai and Michael was fighting on my right side. The scenes were so vivid that I could see everything from the embroidered patterns and colors on our armor and clothing to the actual movements and cuts we were using with our swords.  During this regression Diane ask me what my name was in that life time and I told her Miyamoto Musashi. I also told her that I wrote a book later in my life and that most people think the book is about strategy but I actually hid the true meaning of the writings in the book and very few people understand what my writings are truly about. I will leave this part out for now since it is rather detailed and esoteric.

During the end of the regression Diane ask me several questions about how my life ended and how I felt about that overall lifetime.  This regression was awe inspiring and took me totally by surprise. Afterwards I have done some research and found a lot of what I said under hypnosis to match with what I saw. I am condensing this regression information which actually lasted an hour and twenty minutes for this article but suffice to say the information I learned about myself in that lifetime as Miyamoto Musashi is with me every day now.

When Michael Tomlinson began to awaken his past life memories they helped ignite in me many memories of past lives working together. As you begin to have your own memories and past life connections with others you will have similar recollections begin to reveal themselves in their own right time. Your treasure chest has many layers of jewels and as you pull one out your eye will be caught by the glimmer of another even more beautiful than the one you just discovered.

I began connecting the dots with already discovered past lifetimes. I discovered that Michael Tomlinson was the Bodhidharma who was a Buddhist monk who lived during the 5th or 6th century CE. He is traditionally credited as the transmitter of Zen Buddhism to China, and regarded as its first Chinese patriarch. According to Chinese legend, he also began the physical training of the Shaolin monks in Kung Fu Styles. As Gushi Khan in that lifetime I have memories being one of his first disciples and eventually the second patriarch of Chinese Buddhism.

I uncovered that Michael was also Tokugawa Ieyasu (January 31, 1543 – June 1, 1616) who was the founder and first shogun of the Tokugawa shogunate of Japan. When I looked at a statue of Ieyasu during an intuitive hunch it was clear that Michael and the famous samurai were one. They look identical. We often carry similar physical traits from one lifetime to the next.

During this same period I was the Korean admiral Yi Sun-shin April 28, 1545 – December 16, 1598) who was a Korean naval commander, famed for his victories against the Japanese navy. As a Navy SEAL working with Korean SEAL’s in south Korea I had become enthralled at Yi’s Turtle fleet and incredible victories.

Between these two lives we had a major impact on stopping early Japanese imperial aggression. My soul group has been aggressively involved in reversing negative factions throughout history.

In The Awakening of a Warrior: Past Lives of a Navy SEAL Remembered I have a chapter dedicated to giving you ideas on how to get started in discovering your own past lives. I have twenty-one life times in ancient history that I have uncovered and present in the book. These lives have deep insights that can have a major impact on humanity similar to my other book The Awakening of a Warrior.

I am also currently conducting interviews, which I will post on my site for your enjoyment when they become available.

Whether you currently believe in past lives or are just curious I highly recommend that you engage a qualified hypnotherapy regressionist to explore your own treasure trove of past lives anxiously waiting within you to be discovered.

Spartan 16 Chapter One

I’ve started a new work of fiction loosely based off of life experiences and people I’ve worked with as a SEAL Team Operator.


Spartan 16

Chapter 1

SEAL Chief Jake Wilkins silently raised his gloved fist. The motion meant stop.  Instantly, the signal was passed back through the lines of ninety Tier One Assault Force operators.  Everything settled into a tense expectancy as SEALs, Rangers and Delta Force operators dropped and immobilized into a crouch. Two barely discernable hisses were heard as if a cobra was exhaling before striking its prey. The shots from the silenced fifty caliber sniper rifles had been accurate.  The muffled sounds of two Taliban sentries hitting the ground dead were heard a split second apart.

Jake heard the code word for the assault to begin with a vengeance from the Red Squadron commander.  “Tuna! Tuna! Tuna!” came over the helmet coms.  His lips lifted away from his clenched teeth as he thought about Mustafa’s family who had been tortured to death by this group of vicious Taliban.  Rage tunneled through him.  He had worked with a number of Pashtun villages, gotten them medicine, dental care, food and clothing for the long winter.  Mustafa’s three children, five, eight and ten, had called him “uncle.”  And he had been all of that and more to those three innocent children.

The Taliban had made examples of the children, stripping their flesh from their thin, naked bodies, hoisting them up on ropes to hang dying in the trees near the village as a warning. Those son-of-a-bitches were going to pay for what they did to them. Releasing an explosive breath, Jake controlled his rage and focused it. “Lets get those bastards”, he whispered harshly into the mic to his SEAL Team Six troop behind him. His breath was white vapor, the late March sun just an hour away from rising.

The Afghanistan Hindu Kush lorded over them like jagged old men with a front row seat to the fierce battle that was about to rage. The relatives of Mustafa had wailed and sobbed, women tearing their hair, beating their breasts with their fists as Jake and his team gently and carefully took down each dead child and tenderly wrapped them in clean blankets.  There were no dry eyes in his squad.  A number of the SEALs were fathers and it was too much for them to take. Jake hadn’t cried at that time, instead, filled with numbing grief.

In the last two days during the hunt for the Taliban group at nine thousand feet, tears had leaked unexpectedly out of his eyes from time to time, freezing on his lashes and cheeks. They’d moved stealthily throughout the night to catch up with them, over ten miles of narrow goat trails, often with treacherous sheer cliffs, to reach their objective. Now they were ready to enter the elusive Taliban’s lair that was nestled deep in a secret cave system their enemy thought was secure. Jake’s legs were trembling, calves cramped from the relentless trek to reach this cave complex before dawn.  It’s pay back time.

Jake gave the move signal, his hand slashing forward. The pace picked up faster and faster. The assault force quickly closed the distance toward the dark and foreboding cave entrance barely seen between craggy rocks and snow. His heart pulsed several beats and he consciously willed himself to take deeper breaths. “Slow the pace,” Jake hissed in a whisper into his comms.

His fingers manipulated the switches on his Surefire infrared light systems mounted on top of his helmet and beneath the barrel of his weapon. Their combined lights would illumine the cave but still be invisible to the naked eye. Jake remembered how the caves of Tora Bora had taught the teams that night vision goggles were useless without some sort of ambient light. They now had the power of the stars to see in the darkness of the cave system, no problem.

With his four lensed, wide angle, night vision goggles he could clearly see the group of forward assaulters. Their weapon mounted infrared lasers danced and flitted about like fireflies in the black night.

The men of the Red Man Squadron swiftly penetrated the craggy entrance to the cave. Rebel, the point man of his troop and his best friend, was the first to enter the black maw. The dry, warmer air of the cave rushed by Jake and the familiar but never welcome smell of Taliban body odor and human waste assailed his nostrils and almost made him gag.

They moved ephemerally like transitory ghosts in the night. A downward sloping narrow rock passageway opened abruptly into a vast cavern with a dark, menacing one hundred foot high ceiling. “Break right Troop Two,” Jake whispered into his helmet’s boom mic. Moving in step beside him, was Troop One’s leader, who made the call for his troop to “break left.”

Each troop had seven enlisted men and one senior enlisted troop leader. Four troops made up a squadron. Two junior officers or element leaders were assigned to one of two troops. With a senior officer as troop commander and senior enlisted as overall enlisted commander a squadron usually consisted of thirty-four operators. The lead element of two troops moving down the stone passageway was followed closely by element two. They all silently flooded through the opening like a destructive tsunami devouring the landscape.

Dozens of safeties on silenced M4’s rapidly clicked into a semi-fire mode when the shooters spotted their threat. Fifty Taliban fighters were spread, tightly packed, across the cave floor, sleeping and unaware. Jake allowed his grief and rage for the dead children to fully flow through him.  The slaughter was about to begin.

The Taliban and Al-Qaeda fighters had each wrapped themselves in their ever-present winter cloak of brown wool. Lying untouched beside each man could be seen an AK-47.  They were going to be completely caught off guard Jake thought with dark satisfaction.

“Switch on thermal,” he whispered.  The scope could distinguish the body heat of men covered in wool blankets. The red heat outlines of bodies inside the bundles instantly came alive in their scopes like demons from Dante’s Hell. All four troops were moving sideways heel to heel in a quick, silent shuffle along the wall of the French cathedral-like cave. Weapons were poised to fire.

Jake and his squadron trained in shooting hundreds of rounds everyday at their base in Afghanistan. He and many of the Red Men could fire three headshots in less than a second. Jake had been a star fullback in his high school in Charleston, South Carolina. He often reflected how athletes in colleges and professional teams throughout the world competed against each other. Ecstatic crowds cheered their favorites as leather balls moved back and forth across a small field. The Red Men competed against each other in how fast they could hit several targets the size of a ball in less than one second.

No adoring fans would cheer as they performed their deadly skill now.

Jake’s low snarling order came through the mic.  “Commence fire!” Thirty-two assaulters remorselessly spit death from their silenced M-4’s. Frangible rounds penetrated skulls and bodies and then fragmented so that they would cause the most internal damage. The bullets were designed to also not penetrate through the body to cause collateral damage to the team. Several Taliban bolted upright, but were instantly knocked back down in a hail of bullets as if kicked by a mule into the chest.  Jake watched dispassionately as the bodies writhed and jerked in death throes.

The acrid smell of spent ammo stung Jake’s nostrils but was soon replaced with the metallic, coppery smell of blood.

“Search teams out!” Jake ordered. He watched as two pairs of designated men from each troop began to quickly move amongst the blood soaked bundles. They surgically delivered the coup de grace headshots to insure the bodies wouldn’t spring up later like some bad horror movie. From the moment of their entrance into the cave, the gory work was done in little more than a few minutes. The glow from the corpses began to fade in the thermal scopes. Death covered the floor of the cave with its black cloak.  Silence hung heavy.

The children’s screams had carried out across the village and no one there could stop the Taliban from torturing them. Parents and relatives shrieked and screamed, begging for the innocent children’s lives. Villagers could only turn away, sobbing, eyes shut, hands over their ears, helpless. Even their religious leader, a man in his sixties with a long white beard, had run out to the Taliban leader, pleading, begging them not to harm the crying, frightened children. The Taliban leader had calmly turned, pulled out the Glock handgun he had gotten off an American soldier he had killed months earlier, and shot the old man in the head.

With eyes transfixed on the lifeless forms, Jake whispered into his mic “Initial chamber clear, Red Leader.”  Sweat stung his eyes and he blinked several times to clear them. He felt a burning satisfaction spread throughout his chest as he surveyed the carnage.

“Roger, Red Two,” said Ed Summers, Red Squadron leader and force commander.

Jake was in charge of the assault force while Ed and the Squadron Senior Chief Bud Parker, were positioned outside at the entrance to the cave.

“Initiate tunnel rats,” Commander Summers ordered into his mic. The Delta/Combat Applications Group (CAG) and Rangers moved like hungry lions into the tunnel.

A week earlier, the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) surveillance drone had detected the large movement of forces across the Pakistani border. Although several weeks before the normal spring offensive, this was not unexpected. Jake knew the weather had been unseasonably warm for this time of year. CIA Case Officers working their human intelligence (Humint) sources had determined at that date none other than the number two in Al-Qaeda led this group. To have the Egyptian physician Al Zawahiri leading a joint Al-Qaeda and Taliban force, was stunning and unexpected.

Jake leaned over to his best friend and shooting partner, Jordan, who was also from Charleston, South Carolina. “That felt good,” he said with a relieved sigh.

Jordan growled, “Nothing like a little pay back for Mustafa’s kids.”

Jake saw the vengefulness shining in Rebel’s eyes. Their troop had come into the village a day after the massacre. What met their eyes stunned them. They were all experienced in the horrors of war, but this scene had not prepared them.

All of the parent’s lifeless forms lay sprawled with a single bullet in each of their heads.  They were silent witnesses below the bodies of their beloved children swaying above them in the cold morning air. Rebel had helped him take down the youngest child and had cried openly, unashamed as they wrapped the boy in a brown wool blanket. Now, Rebel looked triumphant, a grisly smile across his mouth. Pay Back.

Jake motioned to the CAG operators entering the cathedral cave to position close to their pre-designated tunnels on the left. Like the spokes of a bicycle wheel, seven tunnels radiated out from the main chamber.  Jake’s troop would hold security on the larger center chamber until several of the other smaller tunnels were cleared. The Red Men would divide a tunnel each between the remaining three troops and simultaneously take the three tunnels on the right while CAG took the three left.

Amazingly they still had surprise on their side because the M-4’s silencers had muzzled the sounds of shots. Special mesh bags attached to the side of the weapons had caught the extracted shell casings so that all sound was absorbed entirely within the cavern itself. Not a shell had dropped to the floor to awaken the sleeping enemy.

Jake held his thumb up from a center position of his team.  The cave looked like a cathedral without stained glass windows. “Thumb’s up troop leaders when you are ready,” he whispered. He then glanced swiftly around and saw six of them raise thumbs.  Satisfaction flowed through him as he called out “Execute, Execute, Execute!”

Trains of heavily armed warriors packed one behind the other, instantly penetrated the six tunnels, dominating them. Multiple rooms branched off each tunnel and were laden with more insurgents. Jake hoped the force could maintain surprise and not be compromised to the forces located on the lower levels of this massive cave system. The Red Men and CAG forces silently and methodically began eliminating more sleeping fighters in each room as they came upon them.

The CIA had secretly improved the entire cave complex during the time of the Russian occupation of Afghanistan. Jake was working with a CIA Analyst at J-bad, Jalalabad, that had remembered mention of its location during her investigation of historical information related to the area. They’d gotten the blueprints sent the next day from CIA headquarters in Langley, Virginia. And now, that map was branded into his brain and he’d memorized all of it. Nostrils flaring, Jake took in the sour smell of himself and the men sweating around him, the cave was warmer than the outside air.

The Rangers were doing the macabre task of taking IR, infrared, photographs of the faces of the dead and stacking them in the center of the chamber. An explosion rumbled from chamber one on the right. Jake and his shooting partner, Jordan, glanced at each other with concerned looks. Everyone froze and looked expectantly towards tunnel one.

“Tunnel one, situation report?” Jake demanded in a strained tone. There was a tense pause, and then came the reply. “All okay, Red Two,” Jay said. With his best southern drawl he added, “An attempt to throw a hand grenade by one of the insurgents backfired.”

Jake could almost see Red One’s silly assed smirk while he embellished the account.  Jake grinned darkly and muffled a chuckle. Jay sounded like he was on vacation with him, sitting out on the front porch of his mother’s southern mansion bed and breakfast in Charleston. He could picture Jay rocking idly in his rocking chair, not a care in the world looking out over the harbor towards Fort Sumter.  Jay would have sweet tea in his hand. Such was the ability of highly trained professionals to present a low-key atmosphere in such a highly charged, unpredictable situation.  And black humor was part and parcel of everything they did. His grin widened and the tension sloughed off his shoulders.

“Red Leader, tunnel rat operation proceeding as planned, all okay.” “Roger, Red Two” came the reply from Bud, Ed’s right hand man during missions.

Jake knew that the information was being relayed by the command element on the surface to the expectant CIA headquarters where they would be intently monitoring their progress. The CIA’s interest and involvement in the mission had been highly pronounced.   Jake blinked the burning sweat out of his eyes.

Three Star Navy SEAL Admiral Joseph McCafferty, Commander of Special Operations Command in Tampa, Florida, was also monitoring the operation. Fighting Joe McCafferty had given the approval for the mission to begin with. His decision to mount it, had been viewed as a highly unorthodox and dangerous undertaking, but Jake knew his leader never took risks.  McCafferty knew more about this type of tactical pursuit when it came to caves than anyone else. The SEAL Admiral had approved Jake’s first fighting course for the Navy SEAL Teams early in his career. Jake liked his style and he liked the man who had always shadowed his career in the best of ways.

Jake tensed as several AK-47 rounds were heard echoing hollowly in tunnel six where the CAG operators were clearing. Instantly, the excited voice of the CAG leader came across, “We have one minor wounded in tunnel six coming out.”

“Roger, send him out,” Jake replied, no longer in a whisper. The words came out tight. Worried. “Wounded coming out of six” Jake called out behind him.

Two Air force Special Forces Pararescue Jumper operators had quickly positioned themselves to receive the wounded CAG operator.  Jake knew these 18 Delta medical qualified men were the most highly trained medical people in the world when it came to dealing with combat injuries. That CAG operator would be in the best of hands.

Jake’s earpiece blared, “Tunnel Two, Tango’s, Terrorists, KIA 14, Oscar, Operators, all okay. Coming out.”

“Roger. Come out,” Jake ordered. From his position within the cave, he passed the information to Bud.

Red Men started streaming out of Tunnel Two, hustling soundlessly, M-4 barrels pointed up toward the ceiling, and began to position themselves in front of the main tunnel. They needed three troops at a minimum to begin penetration of the next deadly level. No one knew what lay in wait for them in the dark recesses below. A CAG troop joined them in a rush as if still unsatisfied from their initial feast, and hungry for more.

“We are in position and ready to assault level two, Red Leader” Jake said, suppressing his excitement.

“Roger Red Two” came a raspy, gruff reply from Bud. “I will assume operational control of level one.”

Bud hastily came down toward the tunnel where they waited and gave him the thumb’s up to proceed. Ed Summers remained on the surface. With him would be an Air Force Combat Controller that would be relaying communications with the controllers of two MQ-9 Reaper drones providing surveillance and each carrying fourteen Hellfire missiles. Jake thought momentarily of the Rangers that were providing security. They came from a long lineage that traced back to his home state of South Carolina. Revolutionary commander Francis Marion, the “Swamp Fox”, developed irregular methods of warfare against the British army and was the father of modern guerrilla warfare.  And now he was seeing the twenty-first century version of what Marion had created, and they were warriors in their own right.

Jake was eager to get back into the fight and got the thumb’s up from the other two troop leaders. He turned and looked towards the metal grate stairs leading to level two. Below them lay a large operations room that was the heart of the whole complex. Several more tunnels led off to more barracks rooms like the one they were on. The last troops were almost finished and were passing their Tango KIA information to the officer in charge of gathering and reporting the numbers to Summers.

Jake gave Jordan a firm squeeze on the shoulder signifying all was ready. Jordan had been holding security on the stairwell to the lower level, his weapon at the ready. He was like a coiled panther ready to spring on its prey and moved out rapidly as point man once more after he received the silent hand signal to initiate.

Jordan began moving with rifle pointing towards the stairs. Jake and the rest of the force followed closely on his heals like a band of Vikings descending fearlessly into the dark underworld. Their battleaxes magically transformed into tricked out M-4’s.

Ting, ting, ting!

Automatic weapon shots rang out from below and impacted on the steel railing the moment they reached the stairs.

“Give ‘em the cold steel boys”, Jake shouted.

Jordan, Jake and several Troop Two operators opened up into the abyss with their weapons on full auto, sighting the figures firing from below. Several forms fell like scythed wheat to the dirt floor. Several tangos limped or ran out of the range of their shots.

“Move!” Jake snapped.

They ran down the stairs with their weapons at the ready. Their boots pounded out heavy footfalls on the rusting steel grating of the staircase that dropped into the long ago drilled out hole and into the cavern below. They shot at anything that moved. Running gun battles raged through the passages of level two as the rest of the available force avalanched into the next cavern.

Jake and Jordan aggressively entered a small chamber together. Jake turned right along the wall of the rock-hewn room when suddenly, a heavy wooden bunk bed was flung against him, trapping his slung M-4 and right arm against the wall. Two Taliban leaped out from behind their makeshift trap towards him. His left hand shot down to his left hip and he unsheathed a 6-inch double-edged knife blade. The blade sank into the nearest attackers neck and severed major veins, arteries and nerves leading to and from the brain.  The first attacker collapsed, his scream a gurgle. Hot blood shot out in spurts from the entrance wound, soaking through Jake’s gloved hand and arm.

Jerking the razor sharp blade upward. Jake grunted, twisted slightly and back hand parried a blade thrust from the second attacker who tried to use his own drawn knife on him. A split second later, he thrust his blade into the second attacker’s neck. The second tango’s knife arm dropped useless after having his brachial plexus nerves in the neck severed. With a grunt, he dropped unconscious, due to massive blood loss to his brain. Jake knew death would occur for both men in less than a minute as the heart stopped due to the rapid loss of blood volume through the wounds.

Jordan had entered a split second after Jake to clear the left wall.  Two tangos pushed another heavy bed toward him, completely pinning him to the wall. Out of the corner of his eye Jake saw two more figures running towards Jordan as they kept his friend imprisoned.  With a hiss, Jake threw the knife spinning through the air.  The blade struck Jordan’s closest assailant. A cracking sound snapped through the air as the blade shattered the rear of the man’s skull.  The blade severed his brain stem and he dropped to the floor, as if turning off a light switch.

A moment after the blade left his hand, Jake hit the quick release on his chest mounted M-4 sling. Breath exploded out of him as he pushed the bed off him, releasing him so he could protect his friend.   He ignored the wet, sticky blood oozing down across his H-gear and chest.  Wiping the hot blood from his mouth, he spat to the left and dug in his toes into the fine dirt of the cave. Hurtling toward his shooting partner and rapidly closing the distance toward a giant tango.

He instantly drew the SOCOM .45 caliber Desert Eagle handgun in his drop holster around his right leg. As the pistol rocketed free of the holster, Jake instantly rotated it at the hip and began firing into the second attacker. The first rounds tore into the center mass of the tango at chest level, smashing into his heart from the side. As Jake continued firing repeatedly, bringing his weapon up to eye level, he squeezed off a well-aimed shot into the brain’s kill switch of his fourth tango.  The massive Taliban male toppled over like a giant sequoia tree from the last chop of a woodsman’s axe.

Jake walked over and pushed on the bed, freeing Jordan, who was cursing eloquently and still squirming to gain freedom.

Jordan turned and surveyed the carnage in the room, his mouth ajar in disbelief.  He was starting to form words to speak.

“I’ll tell you later,” Jake rasped, breathing hard as his friend looked back and forth at him and the four dead men splayed out on the cave floor. “Come on quit lollygagging we’ve still got work to do,” Jake urged, feeling the high of adrenaline streaking through him.

Just then, a thunderous noise cracked the air louder than the mayhem still raging outside in the main chamber. The earth rumbled and quaked as if angry at being disturbed from her slumber. Jake and Jordan shot a wide-eyed look at each other and then rushed out of the chamber, rocks falling all around them from the ceiling.

Anger flowed through Jake. Eyes narrowed, he connected with each of the combat proven operators left in the room during the operational brief. A hard lump grew in his throat as he thought about the children.

“This Taliban unit is full of ruthless bastards.  They aren’t like other Taliban units we’ve come up against.  They’re barbaric against local, defenseless civilians.”  His voice turned steely.   “My troop witnessed what these bastards are capable of after seeing three young children they’d skinned alive a few days ago at Mustafa’s village. They wanted to make the kids examples so that the villagers would not ever consort with Americans again.”

He saw everyone’s lips thin, their jaws compress with anger. The look in their eyes told Jake that they would wage war as if they were King Leonidas’s Spartan Warriors resurrected. Jake smiled inwardly as everyone stood and began to gather their weapons and gear for the next step in the cave operation.

Dust was still falling from the ceiling of the third and last level of the cave as Jake’s troop led down the decrepit, worn metal stairs. Several of the men stifled coughs from the fine dust that rose into the air from the battle. Their black Adidas GSG9 assault boots made metallic echoes into the darkness as they descended that grate.  Surprisingly no gunfire rang out. After the noise from the battle above, it seemed like they were entering a crypt, it was so quiet.  The hair on the back of Jake’s neck rose.  His intuition told him something was terribly wrong.

Excerpt from: The Awakening Of A Warrior: Past Lives Of A Navy SEAL Remembered

The Awakening of a Warrior:

Past Lives of a Navy SEAL Remembered

Copyright 2014 Michael Jaco

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 1497521262


This book is dedicated to my soul mate and lovely wife, Tracy Jo. She has been a constant source of love, motivation, inspiration, support, and insight in many of my past lives and now in my current life.

Table of Contents





Chapter I              King Yudhisthira during the Time When the Mahabharata and Bhagavad Gita Were Written, 3500 BCE

Chapter II             How to Access Your Previous Incarnations

Chapter III           Pharaoh Menes’s Nubian Head Charioteer, 3100 BCE

Chapter IV            Egyptian Pharaoh Senusret I, Ruled from 1971–1926 BCE

Chapter V             With Patriarch Abraham as King Abimelech of Gerar, 1800 BCE

Chapter VI            Warrior Sage for Pharaoh Hatshepsut to Traditional Warrior for Pharaoh Thutmose III, 1480 BCE

Chapter VII          King Idomeneus of Crete with Hercules, Crew of the Argo, and at the Trojan War, 1520–1470 BCE

Chapter VIII         Pharaoh Akhenaton’s Warrior Priest, Heir to the Throne as Prince Nakhtmin, and Exodus with Moses, 1400–1350 BCE

Chapter IX           Benaiah, Son of Biblical Uriah, during King David’s and King Solomon’s Reign, Tenth Century BCE

Chapter X             Lycurgus of Sparta, Regent, Lawgiver, and Creator of the Commonwealth of Sparta, 820–730 BCE

Chapter XI           Numa Pompilius, Second King of Rome, 753–673 BCE

Chapter XII          Thales of Miletus, Pre-Socratic Greek Philosopher, 624–546 BCE

Chapter XIII         A Jewish General in Captivity in Babylon, 587 BCE

Chapter XIV         Cyrus the Great, Unifier of the Persian Empire, 600–529 BCE

Chapter XV          Ananda, Personal Assistant of the Buddha Siddhartha Gautama, 500 BCE

Chapter XVI         Parmenides of Elea, Founder of the Eleatic School of Philosophy, 515–450 BCE

Chapter XVII        Themistocles, Greek Politician and General, 524–460 BCE

Chapter XVIII       Pausanias, Spartan General and Regent, 480 BCE

Chapter XIX         Marcus Furius Camillus, Second Founder of Rome, 446–365 BCE

Chapter XX          Thucydides, Athenian General and Historian, 460–411 BCE

Chapter XXI         Xenophon, Greek Historian, Author, Philosopher, and General, 430–355 BCE

Chapter XXII        Lysander, Spartan Admiral during the Peloponnesian War, 405 BCE


Works Consulted


I’d like to acknowledge the contributions of Kevin Ryerson and his tireless efforts to enlighten humanity. This book would not have been possible without Kevin’s invaluable service as a trance channel. Kevin is a trance channel, which means that when he works, he goes into a meditative state or trance and allows spirit beings to speak through him. Kevin has worked with the famous actress Shirley MacLaine for more than thirty years and is featured in four of her books. Kevin’s own intuitive observations during our many enjoyable conversations together have also led me to research and uncover further past life insights.

I would also like to acknowledge my friend in several former lives, Ahtun Re. In my first channeled session with Kevin, Ahtun Re told me at the end of our conversation that we had been friends in previous lifetimes. Ahtun Re’s last incarnation occurred approximately 3,350 years ago when he served as a high priest and adviser to Pharaoh Akhenaton in 1379–1362 BCE. Ahtun Re still seems like a friend to me, and I enjoy his humor and unique perspectives that have helped me grow my intuitive insights into past lifetimes.

I’d also like to thank Rebecca Shaw of Charleston Hypnosis Center in Charleston, South Carolina. Past life regression is easy and available to everyone, and Rebecca showed me just how rewarding a regression session could be. My regression sessions with Rebecca were instrumental in opening the doors to many of my past lives and continue to do so today. Rebecca’s professionalism and easygoing nature put me at ease and were major factors in making this work possible.


Reincarnation has captured the imagination of many in the West and is gaining in popularity across a broad spectrum of ideas and thought. The concept of reincarnation has long been a belief and accepted reality in much of the East for thousands of years, all the way into the present. In the West, the idea of past lives currently receives regular mention in feature films, television, popular books, and popular music.

I believe that many of us that are attracted to certain time periods, eras, lifestyles, people, cultures, and geographic locations on the planet and are very likely having memories of past lives filter into our current reality. We may meet a particular person we have never seen or met before, and upon eye contact or briefly speaking with that person, we have a strong affinity or attraction to them. Perhaps we have known them in a past life or even in many lives and are now reconnecting with them. We may travel to a different location or city that we have never been to before and surprise ourselves in our ability to get around with no problem while others are completely lost. Perhaps we have had a life or several lives in that city before.

More and more people are accepting the possibility of reincarnation, and as the information age continues to undercut and erode old dogmas and outmoded ways of thinking, we will see this process accelerate.

In my last book, The Intuitive Warrior, I wrote about how the energy of love has begun to influence everything in my life. In this book, I will give an account of how my lives as priests developed the aspect of love I talked about in The Intuitive Warrior. I’ll describe how the variation between warrior and priest lifetimes provided the necessary balance for me to get to the point where I was able to utilize the skills of an intuitive warrior. I’ll give you my own personal lifetimes as an example of how we deal with power and how we come back again and again to perfect different aspects of ourselves until we achieve self-mastery. Once we’ve achieved mastery of a particular aspect, we then move on to another aspect and so on until we have developed mastery of all aspects of power.

If we look at the perspective of any two people who witness the same event, they will invariably have a different view. This could be due to their different vantage points at the scene, different educational levels, their ability to articulate words, their upbringing, their political or religious views, as well as a myriad of other factors. Do not get wrapped up in my views because they are only meant to inform. Any reference to living families is not meant to draw favor or to get into any kind of relationship from former lives. I do not mean to intrude, insult, or draw any unnecessary attention to living relatives of my former lives. Nor do I intend to curry favor or influence anyone in anything other than to inspire and motivate others in their own personal search for past life information.

Many of the viewpoints from my own perspective of history may not fit with particular recognized stories or with the way history has been written. History is often written and shaped by the victors or by those with an agenda that does not include promoting what the truth really is. History is occasionally retold incorrectly or completely forgotten through suppression or fabrication. But we can make progress in discerning the truth amid the fog of time in which history has been forgotten, misinterpreted, or manipulated, if we are open to a variety of sources. Memories of former lives from many different people can come forth spontaneously or through different practices and may help to uncover the true history of an era or certain events. I believe, at some point in the near future, past life insights will be commonly recognized and considered a potential part of research into historical events.

Some of the lives I’ve lived are hard to trace, and specific proof is not always readily available by current scientific standards. I’ve tried, to the best of my ability, to hold all of my information to the light of truth. I have also tried, to the best of my ability, to triangulate from different sources, which include historical evidence, experts on the subject, and actual data that has survived through time.

My desire and my intent for writing this book are to spark an interest and perhaps stimulate an awakening in many to their own past lives and how these past lives have shaped and molded them over time. I firmly believe that our entire collective past lives have shaped and guided humanity in its entirety to this current point in time. I did not write this book out of an egotistical need to show how I have lived the life of kings and great conquerors. I have used historically significant figures to draw interest and to show a pattern throughout many lifetimes that can be cross-referenced and validated for those that are skeptical. I am aware that my best efforts at convincing some will likely never be enough. My true desire is to educate humanity and further our collective advancement through a medium that is highly rewarding when approached with a desire to be informed.

So what does learning about past lives do for you personally? Think about your current life and how your experiences in this life have developed you into the person you are today. All of the challenges, frustrations, victories, joys, and moments of love and bliss are all part of who you are today. At unprompted times, some of these distant memories flash before you. A piece of your life will appear, and, if focused upon, a whole stream of memories will spill forth. Now think of the possibility that on the farthest side of your earliest memories exist even more memories. Myriad memories, in fact, and, if you could tap into these, they would reveal amazing things about who you are. Some of these memories would open up the possibility of skills and abilities that would vastly improve your life if you could tap into this treasure trove of information again.

You could possibly remember moments in history that have long been forgotten but would immeasurably improve the knowledge of humanity. This is actually starting to happen with many individuals all over the planet. You could remember an architectural technique that would allow homes to be built cheaper and last longer. Keep in mind that science still doesn’t understand how many of the very ancient structures on Earth were built with such precision, and we are still in the process of decoding the sophisticated geometrical, astronomical, and arithmetical knowledge within the architecture of those structures. The list of possible uses of past life memories is long, and your imagination is the only limit as to what they could offer you and all of humankind as well.

The benefits are potentially many and can include everything from releasing past traumas that may be influencing your current life to achieving an understanding of why you are attracted to certain people, places, or things. Knowledge of a past life can give you insight as to why you are passionate and driven in certain areas and completely averse to other aspects of life. If we can come to a realization that we have had incarnations as people from many different races, cultures, and religions, and that we have been poor, rich, noble, peasants, slaves, male, and female, would we still have the number of wars and conflicts with each other that we have at the moment?

The information in this book has taken me nearly half a century of research and introspection to come to. I’m completely convinced of reincarnation after having read dozens of books, had several past life readings, and experienced many synchronistic events that pointed me to my final conclusion that we all reincarnate. One of the aims of this book is to condense my own intensive personal research over the last several decades so that you can come to your own conclusions much faster than I did. I confidently believe that, if you don’t currently believe in reincarnation, you simply have not investigated this topic thoroughly enough yet. Therefore, you have no cogent evidence, which is unfortunate because past life knowledge is extremely enlightening in a multitude of ways. This book will give you the proof if you are remotely open to it.

In my opinion and in the opinion of many advanced thinkers throughout time, the evidence is overwhelming and irrefutably in favor of spiritual transmigration. If we were to set up a trial of reincarnation in a court of law for perjury, which is defined as the deliberate and willful giving of false, misleading, or incomplete testimony under oath, it would be found not guilty. Whether you now believe in reincarnation, are curious but on the fence, or have no belief at all, you will find this book, at a minimum, entertaining, thought-provoking, and persuasive, if not downright enlightening and transformative.


I began to have thoughts about the possibility of past lives when I was quite young. Around age eleven, my parents allowed me to stay up late and watch the movie Patton with them on the televised Sunday night movie. George C. Scott’s Oscar-winning performance as the American general and tank commander during World War II absolutely fascinated me. I was especially intrigued when he mentioned in the movie that he’d had past lives. Patton himself immortalized his feelings about reincarnation in a poem, whose verses are truly mesmerizing.

So as through a glass and darkly,

The age long strife I see,

Where I fought in many guises,

Many names, but always me.

So forever in the future,

Shall I battle as of yore,

Dying to be born a fighter,

But to die again, once more.

Reincarnation, which literally means “to be made flesh again,” is the belief that the soul, after the death of the body, comes back to Earth in another body. My understanding is that, a new personality is developed during each life in the physical world, but the soul remains constant throughout the successive lifetimes.

As I matured, I continually came across literature and great works by many people from all times who had believed in past lives. Among them was the industrial trailblazer Henry Ford, who said, I adopted the theory of reincarnation when I was twenty-six. Genius is experience. Some think to seem that it is a gift or talent, but it is the fruit of long experience in many lives.”

Over time I found more interesting quotes from other well-known people that made me ponder the possibility that I may have had past lives as well. Powerful leaders, such as Mahatma Gandhi in India, would have me pause and meditate on quotes like, I cannot think of permanent enmity between man and man, and believing as I do in the theory of reincarnation, I live in the hope that if not in this birth, in some other birth I shall be able to hug all of humanity in friendly embrace.”

The accomplished writer Ralph Waldo Emerson similarly stated, The soul comes from without into the human body, as into a temporary abode, and it goes out of it anew as it passes into other habitations, for the soul is immortal. It is the secret of the world that all things subsist and do not die, but only retire a little from sight and afterward return again. Nothing is dead; men feign themselves dead, and endure mock funerals—and there they stand looking out of the window, sound and well, in some strange new disguise.”

Another contemporary of Emerson and one of my favorites as a boy, after I read the classic book Walden, was Henry David Thoreau who said, “Why should we be startled by death? Life is a constant putting off of the mortal coil—coat, cuticle, flesh and bones, all old clothes.”

Oliver Wendell Holmes served as an associate justice on the US Supreme Court from 1902 to 1932. Noted for his long service, his concise and pithy opinions, and his deference to the decisions of elected legislatures, he is one of the most widely cited US Supreme Court justices in history. Emerson’s words deeply impressed him, as he said, Emerson was an idealist in the Platonic sense of the word, a spiritualist as opposed to a materialist. He believed, he says, as the wise Spenser teaches,’ that the soul makes its own body. This, of course, involves the doctrine of preexistence; a doctrine older than Spenser, older than Plato or Pythagoras, having its cradle in India, fighting its way down through Greek philosophers and Christian fathers and German professors, to our own time.”

Many different leaders within several diverse and varied fields would come to deeper insights of our world and share them with us, like Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi, an Islamic Sufi poet of the thirteenth century. Rumi, who is my favorite poet of all time, said, “I died as a mineral and became a plant, I died as a plant and rose to animal, I died as animal and I was man. Why should I fear? When was I less by dying?” Along these lines, he expressed his perspective on the idea that we migrated down as souls to the lowest denominator to experience all of existence through countless incarnations. In this manner, we work our way up through first mineral form, then plant, then animal, and now as humans. But even now as humans, we are still evolving into a higher form of existence. The evolutionary process is in a constant state of flux.

Among the earliest known religious teachings in the world today are the Vedic Hindu scriptures, which state that the soul is immortal while the body is subject to birth, decay, old age, and death. An essential part of these scriptures are the Upanishads, where the term karma originated, which is intricately linked with the idea of reincarnation. In Christianity, the principle of karma is described in the saying “as you sow so shall you reap.” Karma literally means action; it is the product of one’s actions and the force that constantly determines one’s destiny and sets the stage for the next reincarnation. The cycle of death and rebirth, governed by karma, is referred to as samsara. Many religious leaders throughout time believed in reincarnation and spoke openly of it with their followers.

Siddhartha Gautama, the man who became known as Buddha (563–483 Before Current Era, BCE), offered the following on reincarnation: Samsara—the Wheel of Existence, literally the Perpetual Wandering’—is the name by which is designated the sea of life ever restlessly heaving up and down, the symbol of this continuous process of ever again and again being born, growing old, suffering, and dying. It is constantly changing from moment to moment, as lives follow continuously one upon the other through inconceivable periods of time. Of this Samsara, a single lifetime constitutes only a vanishingly tiny fraction.”

The current Dalai Lama, Tenzin Gyatso, is the leader of the Gelugpa lineage of Tibetan Buddhism. He is the fourteenth recognized reincarnation of the same soul and the inheritor of a rich tradition and culture, which started with Gendun Drup (1391–1474 Current Era, CE). This fascinating reincarnation story has been ongoing for over six hundred years! Before he dies, the Dalai Lama will meditate on his next incarnation and give the upper echelon of the Gelugpa monks clues as to what he sees through the eyes of his next incarnated self as a two- or three-year-old. After his death, the monks will start their own meditation on the location of the Dalai Lama’s next incarnation, and then they will faithfully search for him. The monks correlate where he is located through previous clues and their own meditations over a two-to-three-year period. They will then travel to the general location and narrow down the potential children through a purposefully designed process of tests to find the true successor.

The monks then present several artifacts from the previous Dalai Lama’s life to the children in question, such as an old worn toy that he had enjoyed, but they will also present a new and shiny one. The right child picks his previous toy and other artifacts such as prayer beads, staffs, and so on for a count of around ten different objects or questions. Satisfied, they ask for the child from the honored parents, and he is brought up as the new incarnation of the Dalai Lama. So far, this has always happened in Tibet, but the current Dalai Lama said that he would probably not reincarnate in what is now China and that he might even come back as a woman, “but a beautiful one!” he said jokingly.

The Dalai Lama wrote, in the preface of the book The Case for Reincarnation by Joe Fisher, that “reincarnation is not an exclusively Hindu or Buddhist concept, but it is part of the history of human origin. It is proof of the mind stream’s capacity to retain knowledge of physical and mental activities. It is related to the theory of interdependent origination and to the law of cause and effect.”

In all three Abrahamic religions, Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, there are several references to reincarnation. Josephus, the best-known Jewish historian from the time of Jesus, said that “all pure and holy spirits live on in heavenly places, and in course of time they are again sent down to inhabit righteous bodies.” Other spiritual insights would follow from masters like Yeshua, who is commonly referred to as Jesus. In the account of John 3:3, he said, “I tell you the truth, no one can see the kingdom of God unless he is born again.” In the Pistis Sophia, which is part of the Gnostic Gospels, Yeshua is quoted as saying that “souls are poured from one into another of different kinds of bodies of the world.”

While fasting and in deep meditation in a mountain cave outside of Mecca, an area in present-day Saudi Arabia, the prophet Muhammad received messages from Allah through his messenger Archangel Gabriel. In the Holy Qur’an, we find the verses, And Allah hath caused you to spring forth from the Earth like a plant; Hereafter will He turn you back into it again, and bring you forth anew” and “God generates beings, and sends them back over and over again, till they return to Him.”

Scientific proof of reincarnation is also coming from many different sources. I have read many books by Dr. Ian Stevenson (October 31, 1918–February 8, 2007), who was the former head of the Department of Psychiatry at the University of Virginia. Before he passed, he was the director of the Division of Personality Studies at the University of Virginia and, over forty years, compiled several thousand cases of reincarnation from all over the world. In his book Twenty Cases Suggestive of Reincarnation, he gives very credible accounts of children who remembered past lives that he had personally researched.

It is known that the Egyptians believed in reincarnation or the transmigration of the soul from body to body. This was one of the main reasons why they embalmed and preserved the body, so that it could journey along with “Ka,” an animating force that was believed to be an energetic counterpart of the body, the equivalent to what we understand as the soul. This establishes the concept of reincarnation back to the ancient Egyptian religion in 3750 BCE, but many think the concept dates back even further.

A contemporary of Siddhartha Gautama was the Greek philosopher and mathematician Pythagoras, who taught that the soul is immortal and merely residing in the body, surviving its physical death. His teachings also held that the soul goes through a series of rebirths during which the soul rests between every death and rebirth, where it is further purified in the underworld. The purpose of this continuous process is for the soul to evolve to the point where it can eventually leave the transmigration or reincarnation cycle.

Countless philosophers have discussed the idea of reincarnation such as Socrates (469–399 BCE), who is one of the most acknowledged philosophers of all time. He stated that he was confident that there truly is such a thing as living again, that the living spring from the dead, and that the souls of the dead are in existence.”

Plato (427–347 BCE), another renowned Greek philosopher who was taught by Socrates and in turn taught Aristotle, shared similar views as Pythagoras about the eternal nature of the soul of man in that it is preexistent and wholly spiritual.

The early Christian philosopher Origen (185–254 CE), is considered one of the most prominent of all of the church fathers. In his Contra Celsum, he states, “A soul enters into a body according to its former actions and then changes body.”

The Latin philosopher Saint Augustine (354–430 CE) was greatly influenced by neo-Platonism, which revolves around the idea of a single supreme being or source of goodness from which all other things in the universe descend. Neo-Platonists support the idea of a world soul, or anima mundi, which bridges the divide between the realm of forms and the realm of intangible existence. Saint Augustine is deemed one of the most important figures in the development of Western Christianity, and in the Contra Academicos, he said, The message of Plato’s reincarnation is the purest and most luminous of all philosophy.”

Truth has a wonderful way of coming back full circle into the forefront of the collective consciousness. The knowledge of reincarnation and the self-realization that it initiates have been lost or suppressed for centuries in many cultures and religions, but now humanity’s awareness is inexorably on its way to setting things straight. You may decide for yourself, as I did over time, that reincarnation is part of who and what we are as spiritual beings having a human experience over many lifetimes.

My thoughts on reincarnation and how we can benefit from our personal studies of past lives are multifaceted. Pulling in the added wisdom and experiences from another lifetime could help expand your horizon in many different ways. You might be able to figure out why you are actually here in this particular life and what you may need to do in order to progress and be more fulfilled. Learning what you have done wrong in past lives could motivate you to not repeat those mistakes in this life.

The awareness of past lives and my connection to them in this life have been part of my own spiritual awakening, a process of awakening that I believe everyone will eventually encounter as they progress on the spiritual path. To deny or suppress this integral part of spiritual ascension of consciousness is to impede or negate one’s own right as a soul in passage through the human experience. It is with this concept of our rights as soul entities that I relate my own personal experiences in the hope that it will enhance or awaken your own personal spiritual development and intuition.

As Edgar Cayce wrote, “In time, we who are trapped in the cycle of birth and rebirth can once again come to know our original state and purpose, and regain our celestial birthright as a companion to God. In time, we can again come to realize that the conditions in our current life are the result of our free actions and choices from past lives.”


King Yudhisthira during the Time When the Mahabharata and Bhagavad Gita Were Written, 3500 BCE

Even this is my vow steadily pursued, that I never give up a person that is terrified, nor one that is devoted to me, nor one that seeks my protection, saying that he is destitute, nor one that is afflicted, nor one that has come to me, nor one that is weak in protecting oneself, nor one that is solicitous of life. I shall never give up such a one till my own life is at an end.

—King Yudhisthira

The setting was in ancient India in the sumptuous palace of the Pandava clan in the Northern city of Hastinapur. The malice of the rival Kaurava clan was displayed as they took advantage of the eldest clan member King Yudhisthira, who was involved in a deceitful game of dice. The game of dice was an ancient game that determined the direction a person’s life was taking. If a person had an honorable and virtuous life, then that would reflect in the dice or cards. But if the dice were loaded, as was the case for this game, it wouldn’t matter how virtuous or deserving one was. Yudhisthira, being a man of dharma, or in accord with cosmic law and order, had never lost at dice before. The materialistic Duryodhana of the Kaurava clan was using specifically cursed dice to foil and take advantage of the Pandavas.

Yudhisthira, thus, lost his kingdom, all his brothers, himself, and even the Pandavas’ common wife Draupadi as he gambled on. The Kauravas then humiliated the Pandavas and even tried to publicly disrobe Draupadi, who could only be saved by their enlightened cousin Krishna. Dhritarashtra, who was the patriarch of the Kaurava clan, realized that the game had gone too far, and, in order to prevent his son from being cursed by Draupadi, he begged him to nullify the gambling score, but Duryodhana only agreed to one more game.

The loser would have to go into the wilderness, where he would have to stay twelve years in exile followed by one year hidden in disguise. If the other party should discover him during that year, he would forever forfeit all he had lost for the previous twelve years. As the dice were still loaded, Yudhisthira lost this game as well, and the Pandavas were driven into exile. Perhaps this is why I’ve never had a desire to gamble in my current lifetime! In fact, I have found no evidence of gambling throughout all the many lives I’ve researched. Some hard-won lessons last, not only for a lifetime, but also throughout eternity.

The story unfolds in the great literary work called the Mahabharata, the longest epic poem in the world and described as the longest poem ever written. About 1.8 million words in total, The Mahabharata is roughly ten times the length of the Iliad and the Odyssey combined, or about four times the length of the next greatest Indian epic, the Ramayana. The importance of the Mahabharata to world civilization has been compared to that of the Bible, the works of Shakespeare, the works of Homer, Greek drama, or the Qur’an.

Krishna, an incarnation of the godhead, was a youthful prince and the cousin of both clans, but he was a friend and adviser to the Pandavas. Krishna was the divine incarnation in physical form of the supreme deity of Hinduism, Vishnu. He served as my brother Arjuna’s mentor and later as his charioteer in the great war against the Kauravas. Within the greater work of the Mahabharata is the Bhagavad Gita, which focuses on the thoughts of Arjuna and his discussion with Krishna before the great battle of Kurukshetra. One of the great gifts for humanity to be derived from the story in the Bhagavad Gita are the many life lessons and philosophical insights into human behavior that are interwoven within the greater story.

I’ve personally found, while reading the Mahabharata, that it is not just another tale of endless human drama, but it is filled with a treasure trove of political wisdom, philosophical insights, and religious beatitudes, and it is an overall captivating work of literary art.

In an earlier account, it is said that, prior to the Kurukshetra War, the two heroes meet the god Vishnu after flying across oceans in Krishna’s chariot. Krishna and Arjuna had both been rishis or wise sages together in a previous lifetime. Krishna told Arjuna that they had been brought together again to restore dharma on Earth. Vishnu then spoke and said that Krishna represented wisdom and Arjuna was action. One without the other was useless. Wisdom was useless without action, and action was useless without wisdom. You can only succeed in a battle when both are utilized in synergy.

Easily the most dramatic figure of the entire Mahabharata, Krishna was considered the supreme personality of the godhead himself, descended to Earth in human form to reestablish his devotees as caretakers of Earth and teach the practice of dharma. These godlike men would incarnate periodically throughout the ages in different cultures to help advance mankind.

Dharma is regarded as natural law and is a concept of central importance in Indian philosophy and religion. It is a concept that has run throughout every religion throughout time. As well as referring to law in the universal or abstract sense, dharma designates the behaviors considered necessary for the maintenance of the natural order of things. Therefore dharma may encompass ideas such as duty, vocation, religion, and everything that is considered correct, proper, or decent behavior.

The idea of dharma as duty or propriety derives from an idea found in India’s ancient legal and religious texts that there is a divinely instituted natural order of things. Justice, social harmony, and human happiness require that human beings discern and live in a manner appropriate to the requirements of that order. For Krishna, there cannot be dharma without the spirit of generosity, because laws and rules are worthless without genuine love.

Once exiled to the forests, the five brothers of the Pandava clan are assisted throughout the story by various gods, sages, and Brahmins, including the great sage Krishna. During this journey, after they have lost everything, they turn within themselves for answers and learn many lessons of spiritual significance in the secluded and beautiful forests. This contrasts markedly with the Kaurava clan that is materialistic and has no dharma in the pursuit of outer pleasure and gratification. This has parallels throughout time.

Who were the five Pandava brothers and what have been their incarnations throughout time? As the eldest brother, I was Yudhisthira. The strong and powerful Bhima would be the future incarnations of Hercules and more recently General Patton. Arjuna would be the future incarnation of Alexander the Great. The twin brothers Nakula and Sahadeva are currently alive as motivational speakers and successful authors of self-help books. They have even appeared on stage together in a television special featuring their work as new age spiritual masters.

The Pandavas managed to remain undetected for the entire thirteen years and then set out to claim their rightful kingdom. They tried to find a peaceful and diplomatic way to get this accomplished, and Krishna’s elder brother Balarama advised the Pandavas to send an emissary to get the support of the elders of the family. The Kauravas were brought a message saying, “Let us avoid armed conflict as much as possible. Only that which is accrued in peace is worthwhile. Out of war, nothing but wrong can issue.”

While the emissary was in the Kaurava court, the Pandavas wisely began with war preparations. They realized that Duryodhana would probably not be willing to be true to his word after he had cheated and conspired against them before. They also sent messages requesting assistance to a number of neighboring kingdoms. Their ambassador of peace was insulted and turned away by Duryodhana, who was absolutely intent on war, defying the counsel of the elders like Bhishma, who had agreed with the reasoning behind the Pandavas’ proposal. After several failed attempts at peace, war seemed inevitable.

As a last attempt, Krishna traveled to the capital city of Hastinapur to persuade the Kauravas to embark upon a peaceful path with him, but, at the formal presentation of the peace proposal by Krishna at the court of Hastinapur, his peace proposals were ignored, and Duryodhana publicly ordered his soldiers to arrest Krishna. Krishna laughed and displayed his divine form, radiating intense light. The soldiers then refused to arrest Krishna and did not stand in his way as he left.

The Kurukshetra War lasted only eighteen days, eighteen conch shells were blown before the battle, the text has eighteen chapters, and eighteen groups of soldiers were involved, eleven on the side of the Kauravas and seven on the side of the Pandavas. The cross total of eighteen is nine, which in numerology is a completion number and could be a clue to this having been the end of one age and the start of another. Many sages have said that the end of the Kurukshetra War was the start of the fourth age or Kali Yuga. The Kali Yuga is supposedly the darkest age for humanity and is ended with a return to a golden age. I believe we are just entering the faint edges of a new golden age in our present day.

Kurukshetra was purposefully chosen as the battleground, because, if a sin was committed on this holy land, it was forgiven on account of the sanctity of the land. A number of ancient kingdoms would participate as allies of the rival groups, and overall each army consisted of several divisions of which the Kauravas had eleven while the Pandavas controlled seven.

Each division was under a different general, apart from the commander-in-chief, who was the head of each respective army. A division included 21,870 chariots and chariot riders, 21,870 elephants and riders, 65,610 horses and riders, and 109,350 foot soldiers, for a ratio of 1:1:3:5. The combined number of warriors and soldiers in both armies was approximately four million.

Let me give you an idea of the magnitude of the number of combatants involved. If you took all of the two largest military forces in the world, China and the United States, in the period of January 2014 and combined their total numbers, it would still be several hundred thousand shy. That is all the army, navy, air force, and marine personnel of both sides; if you put them all on one battlefield, plus another three hundred thousand allies, you would finally reach the four million of the Pandavas and Kauravas.

Because the Pandava army was smaller than that of the Kauravas, it relied on strategy and surprise. At various times during the Kurukshetra War, the supreme commanders of both armies ordered special formations. Each formation had specific defensive or offensive purposes as well as specific strengths and weaknesses. These battle formations had been developed on Atlantis after thousands of years of tactical warfare. Later in this chapter, I will go into more detail about the significance of the Atlantean history in regard to the events in India.

Today we know only the names of the formations and can only guess what they were exactly. My memories are that they were designed for large numbers of forces fighting in unison and displayed the shape or the characteristics of the different animals or other items they were named after. At times, it was common for animals to join forces with men to fight wars. We all know about the use of elephants and horses in warfare, but, in the course of history, almost every species of animal has become involved in some way.

The Mahabharata lists the following battle formations: heron formation, crocodile formation, tortoise or turtle formation, trident formation, wheel or discus formation, lotus formation, eagle formation, ocean formation, galaxy formation, diamond or thunderbolt formation, box or cart formation, demon formation, divine formation, needle formation, horned formation, crescent or curved blade formation, and garland formation.

Julius Caesar also mentions using the turtle formation in his commentaries, which was formed by interlocking shields on the top and along the sides. It was a defensive move inspired by the hard shell of the turtle, which protects the animals’ soft inner tissue from predators, hence the name. The Korean navy also used “turtle ships” shaped like the shell of a turtle effectively from the fifteenth through the nineteenth centuries CE.

During the Kurukshetra War, the weapons used included bows and arrows, which were the weapons of choice for Arjuna and Bhishma; the mace, chosen by Bhima and Duryodhana; and the sword and the spear chosen by Yudhisthira. I have chosen the spear or lance in many lifetimes as a weapon of choice. The twins Nakula and Sahadeva were both skilled swordsmen.

Before the battle began, my brother Arjuna had misgivings on waging war and confided his deep-seated hesitations to his chariot driver, Krishna. From their conversations within the greater work of the Mahabharata is the more famous and recognizable Bhagavad Gita. Within this particular work are described the reasons for the Kurukshetra War and the duty and honor that Arjuna would be recognized for by having fought. Krishna explains that, without the war, the barbaric actions of the Kauravas would throw the world into deeper levels of darkness that would take even more effort to overcome in future ages. This has echoes throughout history with the most recent being Nazi Germany’s Third Reich.

The Kurukshetra War was characterized by numerous individual combats, as well as mass raids against entire enemy divisions. The victor or the vanquished on each day was determined, not by any territories gained, but by the number killed. This was a war to the death. The survivor would be the victor. If the text is taken to be chronologically accurate, this was one of the bloodiest wars in the history of mankind. Only a few warriors from each side would remain, meaning that close to four million combatants were killed in only eighteen days.

Indications are that many of the surrounding cities and regions of India were also involved; my estimation is that the casualty rate could have easily been as high as several million people there as well. We can tell, through recent archaeology, that more than one million people could have inhabited cities in India’s ancient past. If we look at the population today, throughout the entire region, it would be well over this figure. So it is not impossible to believe that, at one time, this area was able to support these numbers as it does today.

I believe that the high number of casualties in the surrounding regions is due to the fact that their cities were attacked with nuclear weapons or, at least, something similar. I’m fully aware of the implications of this statement, and I will present substantial evidence supporting this claim. But first I want to cover more of the actual accounts in the texts. Try to keep an open mind when considering that our very distant ancestors would not have used the same terms for advanced technology that we use today, simply because we invented the terms we currently use—but maybe we were not the first to invent these technologies.

For instance, one account on the third day tells us that Bhishma arranged the Kaurava forces in the formation of an eagle with himself leading from the front, while Duryodhana’s forces protected the rear. Bhishma wanted to be sure to avoid any mishap. The Pandavas countered this by using the crescent formation with Bhima and Arjuna at the head of the right and the left wings, respectively. The Kauravas concentrated their attack on Arjuna’s position, whose chariot was soon covered with arrows and javelins. Arjuna, with amazing skill, built a fortification around his chariot with an unending stream of arrows from his bow. This sounds like a description of some type of force field technology that is only science fiction today, but who knows what we may come up with in the future or what is already being developed in secret?

Another fantastic story with indications of high technology occurs on the fourteenth day of the war when Ghatotkacha was summoned by Bhima to fight on the Pandava side. Invoking his magical powers, he wrought great havoc in the Kaurava army. In particular, after the battle continued on past sunset, his powers were most effective. Ghatotkacha had received the ultimate boon from Krishna that nobody in all the worlds could match his magical capabilities, except Krishna himself. So it seems that the text is referring to the use of aircraft with advanced weaponry and night-vision capability because apparently it worked better at night.

At one point in the battle, the Kaurava leader Duryodhana appealed to his best fighter, Karna, to kill Ghatotkacha as the whole Kaurava army was coming close to annihilation due to his ceaseless strikes from the air. Karna possessed a divine weapon called Indrastra, granted by the god Indra. It could be used only once, and Karna had been saving it for his archenemy Arjuna, the best Pandava fighter.

But unable to refuse Duryodhana, Karna used the Indrastra against Ghatotkacha and killed him. Ghatotkacha increased in size and fell dead on the Kaurava army, killing thousands of them. This is considered to be the turning point of the war. After his death, the Pandava counselor Krishna smiled as he considered the war to have been won for the Pandavas now that Karna no longer had a divine weapon to use in fighting Arjuna.

Another indicator of remaining Atlantean technology was that the craft was also able to singlehandedly destroy so much of the Kaurava army. Karna fired what appears to be one of the last remaining surface-to-air missiles. When Ghatotkacha’s craft crashed down, it increased in size and killed thousands. It appears to have contained some type of advanced weaponry that had a tremendous blast radius when it was destroyed.

The references in the Mahabharata to technologically advanced flying chariots are absolutely abundant. They are referred to as the vimanas, and they are also mentioned throughout the Vedic epic Ramayana, which predates the Mahabharata by thousands of years. There it reads, “The Pushpaka chariot that resembles the sun and belongs to my brother was brought by the powerful Ravan; that aerial and excellent chariot going everywhere at will…that chariot resembling a bright cloud in the sky…and the king [Rama] got in, and the excellent chariot at the command of the Raghira rose up into the higher atmosphere.”

Adding up all the different ancient sources, there were, at least, four different types of vimanas, some of which were said to be saucer-shaped and others like long cigar-shaped cylinders. They were also described as double-decked, circular, cylindrical aircraft with portholes and a dome. They flew with the “speed of the wind” and gave forth a “melodious sound.” Ancient Indian texts on vimanas are so numerous that it would take several books to relate what they all have to say. The Vaimanika Shastra, the “treatise on vimanas,” has eight chapters with diagrams describing the operation of vimanas, including information on the steering, precautions for long flights, protection of the airships from storms and lightning, and how to switch the drive from a free energy source, which sounds like “antigravity,” to “solar energy.” It outlines the features of three types of aircraft, including apparatuses that could neither catch on fire nor break. It also mentions thirty-one essential parts of these vehicles and sixteen light- and heat-absorbing materials from which they were constructed.

The Vedas describe the vimanas as the flying chariots of the gods that they used to transport themselves not only around the skies but also to other planets. The word airplane is commonplace in Vedic literature, as you can see in the following passage from the Yajur Veda where it says, “O royal skilled engineer, construct sea-boats, propelled on water by our experts, and airplanes, moving and flying upward, after the clouds that reside in the midregion, that fly as the boats move on the sea, that fly high over and below the watery clouds. Be thou, thereby, prosperous in this world created by the Omnipresent God, and flier in both air and lightning.”

In the Sanskrit Samarangana Sutradhara, it is written, “Strong and durable must the body of the vimana be made, like a great flying bird of light material. Inside one must put the mercury engine with its iron heating apparatus underneath. By means of the power latent in the mercury, which sets the driving whirlwind in motion, a man sitting inside may travel a great distance in the sky. The movements of the vimana are such that it can vertically ascend and descend, movement could be accomplished by slanting forward and backward. With the help of the machines human beings can fly in the air and heavenly beings can come down to Earth.”

Not far from India, in the Euphrates Valley, a Jewish ethnologist, Yonah ibn Aharon, who was conversant with all the basic dialects upon which most languages of eastern Eurasia are founded and who produced the first and only Basrai-Aramaic dictionary, discovered two remarkable documents. The oldest document is Babylonian and is believed to be seven thousand years old, forming a part of the Hakaltha, the “holy laws,” and containing a passage saying, “The privilege of operating a flying machine is great. The knowledge of flight is among the most ancient of our heritages, a gift from Those Upon High. We received it from them as a means of saving many lives.”

A little more than ten years ago, the Chinese discovered some Sanskrit documents in Lhasa, Tibet, and sent them to the University of Chandrigarh in Punjab, India, to be translated. There Dr. Ruth Reyna of the university found out that the documents seemed to contain directions for building interstellar spaceships. Their method of propulsion, she said, was “anti-gravitational” and was based upon a system analogous to that of laghima, a mysterious power of the ego existing in man’s physiological makeup, “a centrifugal force strong enough to counteract all gravitational pull.” According to Hindu yogis, it is this laghima that enables a person to levitate.

Dr. Reyna said that on board these machines, which were called astras by the text, the ancient Indians could have sent a detachment of men onto any planet, according to the document, which is thought to be thousands of years old. The manuscripts apparently also revealed the secret of antima, which is the art of becoming invisible, and garima, the ability to “become as heavy as a mountain of lead.”

Indian scientists did not take the texts very seriously, but then they became more positive about their value when the Chinese announced that they were looking into utilizing certain parts of the data for their space program. This was one of the first instances of a government admitting to researching antigravity technology. Today, the Chinese have sent astronauts into space and safely landed them and are now close to sending astronauts to the moon. Have they been utilizing some of the ancient information in their rapid mastery of space?

The manuscripts did not explicitly say that interplanetary travel was ever made, but did mention a planned trip to the moon, though it is not clear whether this trip was actually carried out. However, the Ramayana does contain a highly detailed story of a trip to the moon in a vimana, or astra, and in fact details a battle on the moon with an airship of the Asvin. This is but a small bit of recent evidence of antigravity and aviation technology used in ancient history. Many very accomplished archaeologists, of whom Klaus Dona is a wonderful example, discovered stunning artifacts all over the world that account for a high degree of advancement, sometimes surpassing our current manufacturing abilities, and also include models of many different types of aircraft.

To really understand this ancient technology, we must go much further back in time. The Rama Empire of northern India and Pakistan developed at least fifteen thousand years ago on the Indian subcontinent and was a nation of many large, sophisticated cities, many of which are still to be found in the deserts of that area. Rama existed parallel to the Atlantean civilization, which was located in the Atlantic Ocean and ruled by “enlightened priest-kings” for thousands of years, who governed the different cities of this now sunken continent. The recent findings of a team of scientists are consistent with the theory that an extraterrestrial body impacted Earth in that area approximately 12,900 years ago.

My own past life memories reach back to Atlantis and even farther to the ancient continent of Lemuria in the Pacific Ocean. There I remember being a priest-king when humanity was still mostly spiritual and when there were no wars. Lemurian priest-kings were androgens or hermaphrodites, meaning they embodied both genders simultaneously. The shift away from the androgynous human was the beginning of the shift away from the archetypal priest-king to the warrior-king, as the balance of masculine and feminine was harder to maintain in a separated body. This conflict, unless balanced internally, was the beginning of external conflict and its resolution through war.

In her book The Camino, Shirley MacLaine describes a process that she recalled from a past life where she was a Lemurian androgen that split its male and female bodies in a sacred ceremony in Atlantis. I was one of the scientist priests involved in that event. During several of my Atlantean incarnations, I was a priest-king on the island of Poseidon and later incarnated as scientist-priests, and, toward the end of Atlantis’s days, I reincarnated as a warrior-king. Science and spirituality were inseparable in the earlier part of Atlantis’s long history.

When the separation between the two started, the wars began. In one lifetime as a scientist-priest, I was in charge of what were called the fire crystals. These crystals had an innate intelligence and were used to power cities and run healing devices. In that lifetime, I was approached by the militaristic faction of Atlantis and was asked to use the fire crystal technology for destructive purposes. I refused, but I knew that they would eventually get control of the fire crystals and cause cataclysmic events that would destroy Atlantis, which they did.

Because the crystals had a consciousness of their own, they could not long tolerate the negativity they were being used for. Eventually a destructive force was initiated by the misappropriation of the power of the fire crystals that caused several natural disasters on the continent of Atlantis. The complete sinking of the remaining major islands as the fire crystal technologies were continually abused and ultimately followed a breaking up of the continent into several islands. I had made a vow in that lifetime that I would insert myself into future lifetimes to help mitigate the destructiveness of war. As you can tell, humanity’s warlike tendencies provided the ground for many more conflicts to come where we would experience and learn much more about the possibilities and effects of warfare.

My own memories of the vimanas during my lifetime as Yudhisthira are that they were basically leftovers from a golden age several thousand years before when India was a colony of Atlantis. The epic Ramayana dates from this earlier time frame and chronicles a war with the Atlaneans when India rebelled against their oppressive rule. Toward the later days of Atlantis’s history, it had been bent on tyrannical world domination by force. In that distant time, more than twelve thousand years ago, the vimanas were far larger and more numerous than they were during my lifetime as Yudhisthira.

Of the few remaining and workable airplanes, we had a few options available to us during the time frame of the Mahabharata. Most of the craft remaining were one- or two-seat models. There were only a couple of craft remaining that could hold several people for transportation purposes. The parts and fuel were an issue for some of the models, and we had to constantly take parts from other models to keep fewer and fewer up and running.

Many of the vimanas were fueled by a solid propellant, whereas the more advanced ones were antigravity vehicles, which only the pilots with the most advanced psychic abilities could run. You literally ran them with your mind, and rarely were they used for combat because there were usually no weapons mounted on these vehicles, making them worthy only for transportation or as observation platforms. If your thought processes were not correct or not of an altruistic intent, the craft would not work.

An added benefit of the thought-controlled vimanas was they also enhanced and heightened your metaphysical capabilities. Among the feats that could be accomplished when inside a vimana was the ability to remotely influence other aircraft. Other powers that would manifest over time and with training were the abilities to see into other aircraft via remote viewing or to make your own craft invisible.

Very skilled pilots could even make jumps instantaneously from one location to another. Krishna was one of the few pilots that had this ability. His vimana was exceptional because, while it was moved by thought, it could also utilize weapon systems. To operate such a craft, you had to be a master of the physical as well as the nonphysical worlds simultaneously, because you had to maintain a certain state of mind to run the vehicles. If you got excited or angry, the vehicle would not fly. It would just hover and stand still unless you were relaxed and calm.

The movie Firefox featured Clint Eastwood as an American pilot who was inserted into Soviet Russia to steal an advanced aircraft. The aircraft was invisible to radar and the weapon system was controlled by thought. Believed to be science fiction at the time of its release in 1982, it is virtually a recognized reality more than thirty years later.

I remember that the central control mechanism of the mind-regulated vehicle was located under the driver’s seat; you just sat down over it and communicated and guided it with your thoughts. In the fueled vehicles, you had a joystick, but all of the airplanes could also be controlled with body movements. If you tilted your body a certain way, you could maneuver the aircraft because the gyroscope mechanism under the seat could read your body movements. The maneuvering capability with the joystick and gyro control made the vimana extremely quick in turns, flips, and twists.

Two people would often operate the planes with weapon pods, but it was not absolutely necessary to have a weapons controller as the pilot could also fire the missiles. Inside a vimana you would not experience any gravitational force, even if you were flying upside down or doing rapid spins. You would not be pulled or pushed a certain way, and, other than some dizziness, if you didn’t focus your eyes correctly, there were no ill effects to the occupants.

The metal of some of the more advanced aircraft would change shape according to your thoughts. Watching or remembering The Terminator science fiction movie series can help in deriving a visual image of what I’m trying to relate. In the second movie, the Terminator robot could shape shift its liquid metal body into whatever form it needed to accomplish its mission. The aircraft I learned to fly would change shape to fit whatever mission I needed to fly. It could even change shape during flight. The metal was silver colored but could change to green if I flew close to Earth where green trees were located so that it could blend in. It could also turn blue to match the sky so that those on the ground could not see it. Because it used a free energy source, no spent fuel trails were visible.

During a long period in the jungle during our thirteen-year seclusion, we learned how to use the advanced systems that were secreted in caves. The advanced priests, or rishis as they were then known, lived deep within the seclusion of the jungle. They trained us in the correct techniques of mental and physical self-control that was necessary to interact with the advanced technology.

Apart from “blazing missiles,” the Mahabharata records the use of other deadly weapons that appear to be powerful lasers. “Indra’s Dart” operated via a circular “reflector.” When switched on, it produced a “shaft of light” that, when focused on any target, immediately “consumed it with its power.”

References to flying vimanas can be found in forty-one places in the Mahabharata. Of these, the air attack of the Asura king Salva on Krishna’s capital Dwaraka deserves special notice. Salva had an aerial flying machine known as Saubha-pura in which he came to attack Dwaraka. He began to shower hail and missiles from the sky. As Krishna chased him, he went near the sea and landed in the high seas. Then he came back again with his flying machine and gave a tough fight to Krishna staying about one krosa, approximately four thousand feet, above ground level.

In one particular exchange, Krishna is pursuing Salva in the sky, and Salva’s vimana is made invisible in some way. Undeterred, Krishna immediately fires off a special weapon, described by him saying, “I quickly laid on an arrow, which killed by seeking out sound.” This powerful weapon hit Salva’s craft in the middle, so that it broke into pieces and fell into the sea. This vivid description of an air attack between flying vehicles occurs in the Bhagavad Gita also.

Other passages speak of things hauntingly similar to nuclear weapons carried on the vimana: “Gurkha, flying a swift and powerful vimana, hurled a single projectile charged with all the power of the universe. An incandescent column of smoke and flame as bright as ten thousand suns rose in its entire splendor…it was an unknown weapon, an iron thunderbolt, and a gigantic messenger of death, which reduced to ashes. The entire race of the Vrishnis and the Andhakas…the corpses were so burned as to be unrecognizable. Their hair and nails fell out; pottery broke without apparent cause, and the birds turned white. After a few hours, all foodstuffs were infected. To escape from this fire, the soldiers threw themselves in streams to wash themselves and their equipment.”

This wash down with water is a standard procedure today to decontaminate personnel and equipment of radioactive fallout. One of my jobs as a sailor in the US Navy was to set up stations to decontaminate personnel and equipment with special detergents and water. I was also responsible for putting on protective clothing and monitoring and measuring the radioisotopes before and after decontamination with special Geiger counters.

“Dense arrows of flame, like a great shower, issued forth upon creation, encompassing the enemy…a thick gloom swiftly settled upon the Pandava hosts. All points of the compass were lost in darkness. Fierce wind began to blow upward, showering dust and gravel. Birds croaked madly…the very elements seemed disturbed. The ground shook, scorched by the terrible violent heat of this weapon. Elephants burst into flame and ran to and fro in a frenzy…over a vast area, other animals crumpled to the ground and died. From all points of the compass, the arrows of flame rained continuously and fiercely.”

Recent excavations at Mohenjo-Daro in northern India add credibility to the notion of atomic weapons use, as they revealed that this city had been completely destroyed quite unexpectedly. There were no traces of natural disasters or wars in that area. Mohenjo-Daro was a well-planned city laid out on a grid with a plumbing system superior to those used in Pakistan and India today. They found the streets littered with “black lumps of glass.”

In 1979, scientists David Davenport and Ettore Vincenti published a major clue to the Mohenjo-Daro mystery. The thousands of black lumps intrigued them, and when they analyzed them, they turned out to be fragments of pottery fused together by extreme heat. According to the scientists’ updated calculations, the clay vessels had been exposed to a blast of heat measuring between 1,400 and 1,600 degrees centigrade. Davenport and Vincenti then studied the site of Mohenjo-Daro in some depth and pinpointed three distinct waves of devastation, which had spread out up to one mile from the epicenter of the explosion.

The scientists put forward a theory saying the ruins had all the marks of a nuclear explosion as they found big stratums of clay and green glass. Similar stratums of green glass could also be found in the Nevada deserts after every nuclear explosion test.

When the excavations of Harappa and Mohenjo-Daro reached the street level, they discovered skeletons scattered across the cities. Many were holding hands and were sprawled in the streets as if some instant, horrible doom had taken place. People were just lying unburied in the streets of the city. These skeletons have been found to be at least thousands of years old by traditional archaeological standards. What could have caused such a thing? Why did the bodies not decay or get eaten by wild animals? There are no apparent indications of physically violent deaths like in combat, but these skeletons are among the most radioactive ever found, on par with those at Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Other cities have been found in northern India as well that show signs of explosions of great magnitude.

One such city found between the Ganges and the mountains of Rajmahal also seems to have been subjected to intense heat. Huge masses of walls and foundations of the ancient city are fused together, literally vitrified, and since there is no indication of a volcanic eruption at Mohenjo-Daro or at the other cities, the intense heat to melt clay vessels can only be explained by an atomic blast or some other unknown weapon. These cities were wiped out entirely.

While the skeletons have been carbon dated to 2500 BCE, we must keep in mind that carbon dating is based on measuring the amount of radiation remaining after it decays or is lost over time. When atomic explosions are involved, massive amounts of radiation are left over. This makes highly radioactive sites seem much younger than they actually are.

Another example in the area of Rajasthan, India, features an area of three square miles covered in radioactive ash. Researchers began to test the area after locals were experiencing a high rate of birth defects and cancer. The levels of radiation they found were so high that Indian officials quarantined the entire area.

Archaeologists have since found evidence of an ancient city that, between 12000 and 8000 BCE, could have supported approximately half a million people. This fits in with my idea that the Ramayana also depicts a nuclear war with Atlantis before the cataclysmic sinking of that continent and the wiping out of Rama with atomic weapons. Only at some point after this nuclear war did the world collapse into what mainstream scholars see as the final period of the Stone Age. Archaeological evidence suggests that atomic explosions during the war between the Atlanteans and the Ramans destroyed a lot of their progress, which was later followed by another setback after the Kurukshetra War.

In the years that followed the war, Dhritarashtra, his queen, Gandhari, and Kunti, the mother of the Pandavas, lived a life of asceticism in a forest retreat and died with yogic calm in a forest fire. Krishna departed from Earth thirty-six years after the war. A hunter, who mistook him for a deer, shot him in his one vulnerable spot, his foot. Yudhisthira had been crowned king of Hastinapur at the end of the war and renounced the throne after ruling for thirty-six years, passing the crown on to Arjuna’s grandson Parikshit.

When they learned of Krishna’s departure, the Pandavas believed it was time for them to also leave this world, so they embarked upon the “Great Journey,” which involved walking north toward the polar mountain that is toward the heavenly worlds, until one’s body dropped dead. Yudhisthira thus left for the Himalayas with Draupadi and his brothers in what was to be their last journey.

One by one Draupadi and the younger Pandavas died along the way until Yudhisthira was left alone with a dog that had followed him all the way. Yudhisthira made it to the gate of heaven and there refused the order to drive the dog back, at which point the dog was revealed to be an incarnate form of the god Dharma who was Yudhisthira’s actual physical father and who was there to test Yudhisthira’s virtue.

Once in heaven, Yudhisthira faced one final test of his virtue, when he was shown only the Dhritarashtra clan in heaven and told that his brothers were in hell. He insisted on joining his brothers in hell, if that were the case. It was then revealed that they really were in heaven and that this illusion had been one final test for him.

I have no memories of this final part of the story and believe it to be an artistic flourish. A hero’s ascension is a common theme in legends and religious stories. Ascension is a possibility for everyone, however. The real stories of ascension are often not so colorful and obvious as we would like to believe.

In 1815 the British army used a secret weapon called “rockets” in the Battle of Waterloo against the French army of Napoleon. They had learned firsthand of these terrible weapons while fighting in India. The Indians had used the weapons with great success against the British, who didn’t quite understand them and were not nearly as effective. Where did the Indians learn their rocket technology?

Julius Robert Oppenheimer (April 22, 1904–February 18, 1967) was an American theoretical physicist and professor of physics at the University of California, Berkeley. He is often called the “father of the atomic bomb” for his role in the Manhattan Project, the World War II project that developed the first nuclear weapons. The first atomic bomb was detonated on July 16, 1945, in the Trinity test in New Mexico. Oppenheimer remarked later that it brought to mind words from the Bhagavad Gita: “Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.”

Later, a student asked Oppenheimer, “How do you feel after having exploded the first atomic bomb on Earth?” His reply was, “Not the first atomic bomb, but the first atomic bomb in modern times.” Oppenheimer strongly believed that nuclear weapons were used in ancient India.

Fact can be stranger than fiction at times. I hope that you are beginning to see that these are not stories that I randomly dreamed up. I’m a very centered and rational thinker who is a truth seeker, so making up casual stories for sensationalism would be abhorrent to me. I stake my reputation on these revelations, and I do my utmost to keep them well-researched and accurate.

Why share this particular incarnation? As I’ve mentioned, it is a major turning point in human history. A further sinking into the abyss would need players that would soften the trauma of an event. I will often do this throughout history—be at key points in history along with members of my soul group. We have, throughout time, lessened the potential severity of many negative events’ magnitude or would hold back the tide in barbarism. I am a harmonizing soul that incarnates into out-of-balance environments to help humanity achieve or maintain its poise and equilibrium.

It will become apparent in my outline of future incarnations that this particular life as Yudhisthira is a landmark lifetime that set the stage for future lifetimes. A thread of our many incarnations exists within each one of our lives. The sum total of all of our lives comes together in our “now-life” to shape the mortal cloth we currently wear. I will eventually incarnate as Ananda, cousin and supporter of Buddha in the same area of India as this life, and, then again, as Ashoka the Great, who would unify India and spread Buddhism. The center of the flag of India today has the symbol of Ashoka’s chakra, which symbolizes dharma. Remember that Yudhisthira’s life symbolized righteousness or dharma.

Buddha, who remembered all of his past lives and the lives of those around him, could also see into the future lives of people he met. He once told Ananda that he would either ascend or be the first king of a united India. I guess I chose to be king over ascension. By doing so, I helped spread the work and ideas of Buddha through Buddhism. Ashoka’s life is an interesting one of conflict, battles, and romance, but such is life. I will share Ananda’s story in a later chapter in this book and Ashoka’s in a follow-up book.


How to Access Your Previous Incarnations

Past Life Regression is considered one of the most powerful tools available for transformation in the fields of integrative medicine, psychology, and self-awareness.

—International Association for Regression Research & Therapies

An October 19, 2010, radio show and poll about reincarnation on Coast to Coast AM with host George Noory indicated that 55.47 percent of 8,446 people surveyed believed that we all experience a succession of lives to advance and grow. There were 26.13 percent who felt that intriguing evidence for past lives existed, but were not fully convinced though still open to other explanations. Only 18.4 percent felt that reincarnation was just a made-up concept and that there was no real proof for it at all.

It has to be taken into account that Coast to Coast revolves around information and topics that are beyond the mainstream with an audience that is generally rather open-minded, but, since it is one of the biggest radio shows on the planet with more than 3.5 million listeners per week, I would assert that the poll results are significant and a close representation of the overall view on reincarnation. Over half of those polled unequivocally know about or believe in the transmigration of the soul, over a quarter are nearly convinced, and less than a fifth have not yet discovered enough information to side with this idea. So we see that over 80 percent of people are generally going along with the idea of reincarnation.

I feel that never before has it been as important to acknowledge and integrate the reality of past lives and reincarnation into our current awareness. Fragments left in other lifetimes leave unresolved issues and need to be brought to the surface so that they can be solved. By connecting with past lives and settling issues, we become whole and nonfragmented. When we clear past karma and resolve karmic debts, we can connect with our true soul essence. Karma refers to the energy created as a result of our actions and relationships during our current and past lives.

Karmic debt refers to entanglements, whether in this life or previous lives, that must be addressed, brought to a conclusion, and released. This release can happen in the present or at some point in the future, but they must be addressed before you can release the effects on your soul. Once karma is released you can continue on to enjoy your life more fully and freely. My own view of karmic debts is that they are simply life lessons that continue to manifest to us in one form or another life after life, until we learn what it is we need to balance our energies and then move forward. For instance, I once read of a past life regression wherein the soul lived through one thousand incarnations before the person worked through the negative emotion of jealousy.

We can also tap into information and skills at a more rapid pace once we consciously connect with past life abilities that we have developed over many lifetimes. A proclivity for any endeavor that we choose could be because we are tapping into the potential of formerly developed capabilities. By accepting this possibility, we can even further accelerate our development in any given venture.

Between incarnations we usually take time to review the life we’ve just lived. Every word, every deed, and every thought from every life is recorded and can be reviewed. The information for all of our lives is contained within the akashic records (akasha is a Sanskrit term meaning sky or ether). These records are described as containing all knowledge of human experience and the history of the cosmos. They are metaphorically described as a library; other analogies commonly found in discourse on the subject include a “universal supercomputer” and the “mind of God.”

People who describe the records assert that they are being constantly updated automatically and that they can be accessed between lives and in our current lives. People who are trained or gifted can access the information in the akashic records from our present dimension. To train in this yourself, you need to get into a meditative state and be open to the images and scenes that may come to you, if you request and venture to see them. It is a highly demanding challenge to finally get to the point where one is sufficiently stalwart and composed to really open one’s intuition and look into the past without bias or blinders, and even into our possible timelines for the future.

It is mostly the conscious or subconscious aversion toward the intense emotional upheaval that blocks the average human today from looking into all that right away, this and the disregard or the distrust in the existence of one’s direct connection to the akashic records. To bring yourself into a position where you can access them on your own, you must know that it is your divine right to do so, and be intent to look at the truth, whatever it is you may find. Really setting out on this endeavor is not to be taken lightly, and be assured that there are guides that you can call on to help you. In essence, the steps on your journey have to be taken by yourself, but there will always be help along the way.

This help can come in the form of your personal guardian angels or other entities. For some people, communication with them is realized more naturally and easily than the establishment of an immediate connection to the akashic records, and that is fine also. In any case, whether you choose to directly access the living library or if you choose to ask somebody to read it to you, discernment is always key. Be vigilant and prudent when scrutinizing information that comes to you in whatever way or form.

Sometimes the influx of such information can come rather unexpectedly, as the case of Suzanne Ward shows. For most of her life, she never had any particular interest or training in the metaphysical, yet currently she has written several books that deal with the afterworld and what we do and experience in that realm. Her books and messages contain information gleaned from her son Matthew, who died in an accident at age seventeen. It was relayed to her independently by several different psychics after her son’s death that he was still observing her and would talk to her telepathically at some point.

Suzanne was particularly impressed by the amount of personal information brought forward by the psychics that they could not possibly have known or come up with on their own, but it was only fourteen years after Matthew’s physical death that the predictions really manifested. Since then Matthew and Suzanne have communicated over many things, beginning with his experiences in the afterworld, which she has shared in many excellent books. Matthew relates that the correct term for heaven is nirvana, and he also shares information about what we can all expect to encounter in that environment between lives. Of course it has to be noted that simply because one is physically deceased and dwelling in the heavenly abode, this doesn’t mean that one’s discernment is suddenly impeccable. As above, so below; just as we are in a learning process while in human form, so is everybody in other realms, but their insights from their vantage points can surely be a great inspiration and guide stones.

There are also living human helpers who can assist you in getting into the meditative state necessary to access your past lives. For instance, in his books Journey of Souls: Case Studies of Life Between Lives and Destiny of Souls: New Case Studies of Life Between Lives, Michael Newton, a hypnotherapist who has worked with subjects in deep meditative states, has collected many accounts of the akashic records or the “Book of Life.” Another renowned practitioner in this field is Dolores Cannon, author of Between Death and Life and The Convoluted Universe, who found herself very surprised in the early phase of her work as a hypnotherapist in the 1960s when her clients were bringing up memories from previous lifetimes, sometimes not even as a human on this planet, all of which was completely unfamiliar to her back then. But unlike some of her colleagues, she would continue with the therapy. This is a virtue of any good therapist and past life regressionist—to assist and protect the client along his way through the vastness of his memories so that potentially unsettling memories may be processed constructively without any negative effects on the present life of the client.

Integrating and growing through the awareness of the vast information pool available to us is at the core of our evolution and applying the knowledge one can gather in a responsible and sagacious way are what it takes to live this knowledge into wisdom and to consciously expand our awareness through the myriad levels of existence. We can then truly realize the interconnectedness of everything, not merely as an idea that one is sympathetic of, but as a very distinctly experienced reality. In most religions, heaven is a realm in which we exist on a higher dimensional level, a plane of existence that is, of course, different from our three-dimensional reality in which we abide while we are incarnated on Earth.

It is from this other plane of existence that we usually review the impact of everything we did in our previous life after the death of our physical container, or even during our current lifetime when we tap into higher states of consciousness. Because both planes are permanently interwoven, you don’t have to die physically to connect to other levels of existence. You can also do it by intentionally changing your focus, which sounds very simple but actually takes a tremendous amount of inner discipline.

Another possible and rather harsh way to connect to the higher realms of existence is the near-death experience. There is a massive amount of congruent and independent documentation on the specifics of those experiences, clearly indicating that there is a very substantial reality behind them. One of the researchers who was inspired by such an experience was Betty J. Eadie, who has written several books that offer excellent insight into the life between lives. I read her book Embraced by the Light many years ago when it was first released and was deeply inspired by the account of her near-death experience and interactions in heaven where she reviewed her life. There she realized that not only her deeds but also her thoughts affected those around her and their lives in different ways depending on whether her thoughts and deeds were positive or negative. Betty explains how this creates a ripple effect, where we affect the people around us, and, in turn, they affect the people that they interact with, and, in turn, those people affect the people that they interact with ad infinitum.

Throughout this chapter, I’ve already given clues about the attitude necessary to connect with previous lifetimes and the akashic records right now, and I also mentioned concrete ways to accomplish this. To condense and summarize it now, I have broken it down into three categories that can be used individually or together, in any order or combination. It’s the process that I used for confirming and investigating my own past life incarnations.

  1. Intuitively exploring your own past life memories and connections.
  2. Contacting a reputable psychic or trance channel.
  3. Past life regression, PLR, sessions with a certified PLR practitioner.

First of all, try to connect with a historical period that you have been drawn to in your current lifetime. It can be anything from a few years before your birth to very ancient times. As a small boy, I was always drawn to World War II. I would be glued to the television or any movie about this topic. Now that I have learned that my most previous incarnation before this one was during World War II, I can see why I had the strong connection to that period. I was curious how it turned out because I died before the end of the war. Over time, as this curiosity was satisfied, I moved on to other periods of time I was always fascinated with, among them Egypt, Greece, and Rome. And again, through reconnecting with past lives, I began to understand where the pronounced interest for these eras came from.

Once you recognize a connection with a time period, contemplate what most fascinates you about it. Look at pictures from that time period. Do an Internet search and just let whatever comes up that interests you lead you along a path of discovery. Now that I know about particular past incarnations, what I often find is that, when I read articles and books about the relating epochs or do research on the Internet, I find myself either nodding my head in agreement or shaking my head in disagreement to certain events described. Often I don’t have any logical explanation for why I agree or disagree until much further research. It has become kind of fun to get these intuitive flashes that go against the academically recognized and taught history about certain events and to have them later justified.

One occasion where this has happened to me was when I immediately felt very certain about the fact that Pharaoh Tutankhamun was actually the son of Pharaoh Akhenaten. On some level, I just knew it, and I said for years that they were genetically related as son and father, even though no proof existed. But it has now become a recognized fact through DNA sampling that this is indeed the case. I have no doubt that much of what I speak of throughout this book that is not currently accepted as fact or part of the established history will eventually be proven sound. Perhaps some of the information in this book will even motivate others to do further studies on their own. By allowing yourself to be guided by your intuition and your past life connections you may also find similar proofs as I did and uncover more yet unestablished historical facts.

You may have experienced a connection with an event in time where the official account of it didn’t quite seem right to you. Over a period of time, new evidence may have come out about that time frame that really got your attention. New revelations may have provided for an “aha” moment, helping you to fully connect with the actual reality and giving you a sense of relief.

I believe that James Cameron’s 1997 epic romance and disaster film Titanic had exactly that effect on hundreds of millions of people who watched it. The movie is based on a fictionalized account of the sinking of the RMS Titanic that sank after hitting an iceberg on its ill-fated maiden voyage across the Atlantic from Britain to America. The movie Titanic was an enormous critical and commercial success; it was nominated for fourteen Academy Awards, eventually winning eleven, including those for best picture and best director. It became the highest-grossing film of all time with a worldwide gross of over $1.8 billion—the first film to reach the billion dollar mark—and remained so for twelve years until Avatar, again directed by James Cameron, surpassed it in 2010.

Production on the film began in 1995 when Cameron shot footage of the actual Titanic wreck. A reconstruction of the ship was built at Playas de Rosarito, Baja California, for filming purposes. I remember passing by this site on my way down to Rosarito beach restaurants from my home in Coronado, California, where I was stationed as a Navy SEAL at that time. The grilled and fried lobster was deliciously amazing, and at the time the beachside restaurants were little known or discovered.

I would marvel at the scale models of the Titanic as I passed by during the day on the coastal Mexican highway and wondered excitedly what the highly anticipated movie would reveal. On my return trip to San Diego, I would again pass by the dark mock-up of the ship under a clear starry night sky. I tried to get an image of what it must have been like on that sinking ship long ago under a similar starry sky with the orchestra playing on deck as the cold dark waters of the Atlantic relentlessly rose up the sides of the vessel. What must have gone through those people’s minds?

Apart from the scale models, computer-generated imagery was also used to re-create the sinking for the film, and, before its worldwide release, several documentaries described how the Titanic had broken up when it sank. Scientific proof and analysis of why the unsinkable ship had sunk and what had happened to the metal structure as it sat on the bottom of the cold Atlantic were all covered, much of which had not been generally known previous to that. The depiction of the sinking in the movie promised to be historically accurate with never-before-seen footage of the Titanic on the bottom of the ocean.

My thoughts are that many of us had been incarnate during the sinking of the Titanic and that we had never been fully satisfied with why the ship had sunk. I don’t mean to imply that we were all passengers, although some were, but that we were part of the vast humanity that was shocked and mystified at reading or hearing about the tragedy during that lifetime. That feeling of unresolved trauma that we had intensely felt for the victims of the Titanic carried over for many of us into this life.

I even know of one young man named Evan Justyn whom I met through my website for Intuitive Warrior. Evan was a student at the College of Charleston, South Carolina, who contacted me to express his admiration for the book. Evan was extremely interested in becoming a Navy SEAL, and, in the process of mentoring him, we have become good friends.

Not surprisingly it was Evan’s mother, Daria Justyn, who initially gave Evan the book, thinking that he would connect with the powerful message of how we can use the positive power of intuition and love in every situation in life including war. Daria is a successful intuitive and author of the beautifully written book Angels Whisper to Us: Decoding the Messages in Daydreams and she had me on as a guest speaker in 2010 on her popular BlogTalkRadio show Medium in Our Midst.

Like many women who are connected with their intuitive side and have come across my book, Daria believed that the book would help create a bond of common interest between herself and Evan, because Daria felt that Evan’s own advanced intuitive abilities would not be crushed by becoming a warrior if he connected with the information in the book. I believe Daria is correct, and, if Evan decides to pursue a Special Forces career, he will bring a level of intuitive skill that will help in the transformation of humanity from one focused on war to one of peace.

During a conversation one day at a seafood restaurant in historic Charleston, Evan told me how ironic it was for him to be interested in becoming a Navy SEAL. I will let Evan describe his fascinating story and how events unfolded that led him to the realization that he was one of the passengers on the actual Titanic who died on that fateful night.

“Up until I was three years old, whenever I was speaking, no one could understand anything that I was attempting to say. My mother, Daria, claimed it sounded like a foreign language. She took me to see speech therapists that ended up having me doing ridiculous things like blowing bubbles, but to no avail. She would just sit there and cry as this happened.

“One day when I was about three and a half years old, my mother and I were driving over a canal bridge in Point Pleasant, New Jersey. While we were driving over the bridge, I looked down at the water, and I said to her as clear as could be, ‘I fell off the bridge and drowned, but I was the daddy that time.’ Those were the first intelligible words I ever spoke. From that moment on, I spoke clear enough as a child of that age to be understood with no problem. Growing up I also had a tremendous fear of water. When I was an infant, anytime my mother attempted to wash my head, I would scream. Later, when I was a toddler, I was afraid to sit down in the bathtub and was terrified to get my head washed or let water be poured over it. As I grew a bit older, my family got an above-ground pool, and I would go so far as to go up the ladder but refused to get off of it and go into the water. I was quite happy just letting my toes dangle in the water.

“During this time, my great-grandfather was still alive and living with my grandmother. He had a subscription to National Geographic magazine, which he loved to share with me. One day the shipwreck of the Titanic appeared on the cover of an issue that featured information on how they had developed the technology to find the Titanic and what they had uncovered there since. From that point, I became completely obsessed with anything that had to do with the Titanic. There was also a documentary my grandmother had taped for me about the discovery of the Titanic, and I would spend my time watching it over and over. This was all quite mysterious, but a major piece of the puzzle fell into place when my mother held the copy of that particular issue of the National Geographic in her hands; that was the first time in her life that she saw actual images from the Titanic. She immediately made the connection that it wasn’t a bridge over water I had fallen off of, but the bridge of the Titanic.

“We lived around the corner from the library. We spent a lot of time there because my mother taught art classes there. I got to know all of the librarians and they knew me, because I had requested every book in the Ocean County library system on the Titanic shipwreck. In fact, I would go over to all the libraries whenever I would get a chance searching for anything on the Titanic I hadn’t seen before. It was because of my obsession with the Titanic that almost every librarian knew me by my first name.

“Eventually, James Cameron’s Titanic came out in theaters. I was about ten years old at the time, and my family managed to get tickets to see it on opening night. Unfortunately I do not remember anything of that experience nor of the rest of the night. I am told that I sat there physically motionless throughout the whole movie and that I didn’t say a single word. That night I got into bed, and, when my mom came into my room to say good-night, as always I was already half asleep and somewhat dreaming. She tucked me in and asked me what I thought about the movie. She says I replied, ‘The rooms were much smaller than they appeared in the movie.’

“She also said that I pulled on the collar of my pajamas and said, ‘Those collars felt really stiff and were tight around my neck.’ Following this statement, I just kind of shivered, maybe picking up on how cold it was on the voyage. Asking my mom about it now, what struck her most about my responses to how I felt about the movie was that they seemed like something I really experienced as opposed to something I had only seen on the movie screen.

“One other important factor during all of this was that I had some horrible problems with my lungs as a child. I had serious asthma and had to have a portable inhaler for when I woke up in the middle of the night struggling to breathe. It wasn’t until the time that the movie came out and I started getting adjusted by a chiropractor that it cleared up and disappeared. I have not had lung problems since nor had to use an inhaler to help me breathe.”

Evan’s testament is just one out of many examples illustrating the significant influence that events from past lives can wield in our present lifetime. When we connect with past life traumas, we can then proceed to release the hold they have on us in our current life, which is one of the values of connecting with past lives. Fortunately for Evan, his mother was open, patient, caring, and, best of all, a gifted intuitive who was able to help him work through the past life trauma that was influencing him in his current incarnation.

I personally remember, as a teenager in the mid-1970s, going with my mom to our local museum in Columbia, South Carolina, to see the Titanic exhibit that was traveling around the country. We were both very excited. We were in awe of the artifacts from the wreck, as well as the videos that showed the ship being built and the launch of the maiden voyage. Decades later and several years after the movie came out, there was an even more comprehensive exhibit, and synchronistically Evan had visited it. He shared with me another insight into a further release that he had after he experienced his release that came with watching the movie Titanic. The new exhibit was very realistic and to scale with the original ship’s dimensions; it also held more actual artifacts recovered from the wreck itself.

“I was fortunate to go to the new Titanic exhibit that’s been touring the country. It was on Ghost Hunters due to some of the artifacts being haunted, and it’s currently one of the world’s largest collections of Titanic artifacts.

“I went with my mother, and it was cool, but it also felt very strange at the same time. The exhibit plays a little game with you when you buy your ticket to get in. They give you a replica of a real-life ticket with an actual passenger’s name and information on it. My ticket was a man who had been on a book tour throughout Europe and was on his way back to America with his wife in second class.

“I think my mother’s character was a woman in first class and the second richest person on the ship. When you get to the end, they have a huge passenger manifesto with people by name and class split into two categories, as perished with the ship or survived. Unfortunately my guy died, but, in the iceberg room, there was a quote from him on a banner that his wife, who survived the sinking, had disclosed to reporters. He told her, ‘For the love of God, it’s the last lifeboat! Get on it.’ This really impressed me.

“The whole exhibit was absolutely astonishing; they had it set up as a gigantic ship. I believe they had the original companies who built the rooms for the Titanic build the rooms for the exhibit. You walked onto a reconstructed dock, then through steerage, second class, first class, the sun decks, and so on. They also had the iceberg room where they made a huge block of ice you could touch to feel how cold it was in the water. The interesting part about this is that saltwater has a lower freezing point than freshwater. The water the Titanic sank in was saltwater, which means that in order for the iceberg not to melt, the water had to be below freezing. Just touching the iceberg sent shivers through my spine. Not the best of feelings.

“The entire time you are in the exhibit you are surrounded by objects brought up from the wreckage. Many of the artifacts are perfectly preserved since the area on the ocean floor was so cold, dark, and under enormous pressure. A suit with original stitching, a glass jug that still had cooking oil in it, a leather fanny pack filled with experimental perfume that still had scents to it, and a steamer trunk the size of a fridge were all perfectly preserved and on display.

“I honestly did not know what to expect while traveling to this exhibit. I was excited but at the same time I was pretty quiet during the car ride. It felt like I was going back to a traumatic event, so I didn’t really know how I would react or what to expect. Going through the whole re-created ship and seeing everything in its original state felt like looking at old items you once had. You could sense that emotions were very subdued in the re-created Titanic; it was very quiet instead of it being like a regular museum with comparatively high energy and people talking.

“It was very fascinating for me to experience how, in certain parts of the museum, I was struggling to breathe and had to stand still for a few minutes. In the end I felt like I needed it. It was like the sheer act of going through all this lifted a weight off of me. I got the feeling that a lot of the other visitors experienced something similar there, too. It gave me a lot of closure, and I felt that many people were affected in a very similar way.”

My thoughts are that Evan’s mother was his daughter in the Titanic lifetime. He lovingly saw her off in safety and was not able to rejoin her and went down with the ship. In their current life, she has returned the love by bringing him safely into this world and helping him overcome the trauma of the Titanic’s sinking that he carried through into this lifetime.

I believe that, at different times throughout our lives, we are all affected by past life traumas. They can manifest in many different aspects of our lives, whether it is in relationships or business dealings, or among siblings or parents. We will often switch roles from one life to the next in order to learn and grow in wisdom. As one example, there could be a mother in one life becoming the daughter in the next life and vice versa, as is the case with my wife, Tracy Jo, and her daughter, Christy, who had opposite roles in a previous life. When you closely examine it, you can see the justification for this role reversal, the challenges that are presented, and the lessons that can be learned by both parties.

Virtually any issues or traumas that were experienced in previous lives can be rectified and released in our current life, as we have seen through the example of Evan and his mother, Daria. Fortunately Daria was open and lovingly supportive of the idea that Evan was possibly being affected by a previous incarnation.

Often synchronistic events will show up, like Evan’s grandfather showing him the National Geographic magazine and documentary video that sparked an intense curiosity in Evan. Another powerful synchronicity was Daria making the connection with Evan and the Titanic when she picked up the same National Geographic magazine that had so mesmerized Evan. If we open up to the idea that there really can be an influence on our current life ensuing from past lives, then we can heal from these events and move on to more productive lives. A mysterious or an unusual connection to historical times, cultures, and geographical locales that attract an unusual amount of interest from us can be possible connections with past life times.

Imagine where Evan would possibly be today if he had not experienced the release of the trauma of his death during the sinking of the Titanic. He would most probably not even think of going to Navy SEAL training. He might also suffer from inexplicable anxieties as well. I believe that Evan could find even further release if he could find out who he actually was on the Titanic. I’m sure that from the several clues he has gotten over the years that he may be close.

After the tremendous successes of the movie Titanic, many people were finally ready to let go of the fear and confusion that had held the collective consciousness for more than eighty years. James Cameron provided a tremendous gift and service to humanity by making this film. At least hundreds of millions of people have now seen it, and the veils of mystery and confusion are finally being lifted. The ghosts that have haunted so many are quietly fading and drifting away to a much-deserved rest.

The second thing I would recommend for connecting with the idea of past lives is to contact a reputable psychic or advanced Reiki practitioner who specializes in past life therapy in your area. You can often find out about a good psychic by asking others who have visited a local psychic or Reiki practitioner. Internet searches are good as well and will often contain reviews and recommendations. Many books on reincarnation contain stories of how people have begun past life awareness through psychics. Intuitive individuals have helped people connect with their past lives through their readings, catalyzing a psychological release or opening the door to fascinating discoveries. Often psychics and trance channels will be mentioned and referenced by name, location, and contact information in these books. This is how I got in contact with Kevin Ryerson, whose information and website I found in an excellent book called Return of the Revolutionaries: The Case for Reincarnation and Soul Groups Reunited by Dr. Walter Semkiw. Kevin Ryerson’s own work and insights are contained in his book Spirit Communication: The Soul’s Path, which I still find invaluable and refer to often.

Kevin is a trance channel, who works in cooperation with Ahtun Re, an Ascended Master from ancient Egypt. Ahtun Re is an interesting character and will often ask what you are feeling and what your thoughts are for a particular lifetime, when he accesses information from his location in the higher dimensional spirit world. He is not always forthcoming in revealing information, but Kevin believes that in our sessions he has been revealing an unusual amount of information to support me with my work that is dedicated to helping enlighten and empower humanity. Ahtun Re will usually either confirm your intuitive insights or redirect you to what actually happened and what your relationship was to a particular time frame or historical figure. This procedure helped me substantially with uncovering my memories from many different lifetimes, as you will be able to see throughout this book.

Once you’ve decided to contact an intuitive to give you a past life reading, find out if the person will record your session or if you will need to provide a recording device. Kevin Ryerson, who lives more than one thousand miles from me, fortunately does his readings over the phone and recommends you record your own session. If the person doing the reading will record the reading, I recommend that you still use or bring your own device as a backup. You will definitely want a recording of your reading so that you can refer back to it. Often the information provided can be overwhelming in its revelations and you may miss valuable dialogue as you ponder some profound point that has been revealed to you.

I still refer often to my recorded past life sessions to gather clarity and further information that I have missed or did not fully grasp. Some of my recordings are now over a decade old, and I still receive insights from them.

I remember the first time, many years ago, when I learned that I was incarnate during the lifetime of Jesus and had actually interacted very closely with him during his final ministry. I was astonished when I initially heard it, but, on a deeper level, I knew it was correct. As I drove back to my place in Virginia Beach after my first-ever psychic reading from Mary Roach, I was in tears for much of the drive. My initial past life regressions had the same effect. When you are reconnecting with very intense, long-lost, and often suppressed emotions, you will likely have some powerful releases. These releases are very rewarding because they unravel pent-up energies.

A release will often be followed by a clarity that can bring forward a powerful flood of past life memories and deeper understandings of the nature of your own existence. I have often felt a deep gratitude for connecting with my own past lives. On many occasions, I’ve experienced a profound sense of joy and awe upon finding new revelations of past life recall. Like all new experiences that are of an emotional nature, you gradually condition to the release of information. I’m rarely shocked by the magnitude of revelations that come forth these days, and I’ve found that allows even more material to come through.

The third thing I recommend that you can do to connect with past life memories is to contact a person that does past life regression therapy. Arguably one of the most famous past life regression (PLR) practitioners is Dr. Brian L. Weiss, the author of Same Soul, Many Bodies and Many Lives, Many Masters. He has written numerous excellent books that I can really recommend if you are going to consider PLR research. He has also produced several very effective meditations CDs that can help you get into a meditative state to do your own PLRs. Dr. Weiss also does seminars all over the world but is unfortunately unavailable for personal PLR sessions; however, he does group regressions during his seminars.

After several years of searching for the right PLR practitioner, I came across some information that listed certified PLR practitioners throughout the United States. I searched for someone in my area, and that’s how I found Rebecca Shaw of the Charleston Hypnotherapy Center in Charleston, South Carolina. I would later learn that Rebecca and I had crossed paths in previous lives, and, to be quite honest, such synchronicities aren’t even so much of a surprise to me anymore; they’re rather something to be expected once you really set out to uncover the mysteries of life and to work for the highest and best good of all. The universe has magnificent ways to let things fall into place when you align with this greater focus. So having found someone that I had worked with in previous lives to help me uncover past life memories now makes perfect sense to me. My first few sessions were absolutely amazing and were far more than I had expected. I had vivid recall of my past lives under regression. PLR works because you go through a deep, guided meditation process that allows the intuitive side of the brain to fully come forward. Once you are deeply regressed you are able to open the door to any past life. Rebecca was very intuitive in this whole process and guided me into several lifetimes during many sessions that revealed an amazing amount of information.

I was fortunately guided expertly under deep meditation, and, because Rebecca is very intuitive and aware, she was able to help me gather much of the information for this book. In my first couple of sessions, I had a very strong emotional response. I had tears streaming down my face, but I learned to allow these emotions to surface and dissipate more easily with multiple PLR sessions. I was also more open to allow information to surface as I learned to navigate while regressed in a particular life. At first, like with anything new, you may be in awe of what you are experiencing. I surely was, but you will settle down as you get more PLRs. Rebecca was my guide while in the deep meditative state and seemed to know the perfect time to ask questions and prod me in a new direction. I was moving within a transcended state of no time and accessing multiple incarnations during my regressions.

In one of my favorite regressions, I examined a lifetime during the era of the Spartan King Leonidas and the Battle of Thermopylae. Kevin Ryerson, through his communications with Ahtun Re, also confirmed much of what I had strongly felt over multiple sessions concerning my experiences during my Spartan lifetime, and much more information was revealed in my own intuitive meditations and in other past life sessions with psychics, whether channeled or PLRs.

All of the past lives that I write about in this book have had multiple confirmations. These confirmations were made without the different parties knowing any of the prior information that I had been exposed to. This multiple-source validation over time has strengthened the entire body of work that I’m writing about in this book. I’m not trying to impress or draw acclaim from a famous past life incarnation.

I have had a fairly humble life this time around, and, in many ways, it serves me better to play out of the limelight. Being a king or extremely wealthy can have just as many drawbacks as benefits. Imagine trying to write books about former incarnations if I was the president of the United States or the king of England. It wouldn’t go over well. Being a decorated former Navy SEAL gives me some credibility. I’ll take a little flak; I’m sure, but I’ve survived a lot of years in combat zones, so I’m pretty thick-skinned at this point.

My own past life research is still ongoing and will probably last for the rest of this life. The reward and satisfaction of researching, discovering, and then further investigating my own past lives has held many benefits, which will become more apparent throughout this book. I have also begun to notice the people around me in former incarnations, and it gives me insight into my relationships with others that would never come through without such insight. I sincerely hope that the ideas outlined in this chapter are just as useful to you as they have been for me. I trust that you may uncover and explore your own past life memories more clearly and deliberately after reading this book. Now let’s journey through time together.


Pharaoh Menes’s Nubian Head Charioteer, 3100 BCE

Rebirth is an affirmation that must be counted among the primordial affirmations of mankind.

—Carl Gustav Jung

My very first reading with Ahtun Re, who had also experienced a cycle of reincarnations on Earth, was very surprising. Here was a genuine Ascended Master, whose last incarnation was during the time of Pharaoh Akhenaten in the fourteenth century BCE, in which he had completed his personal human curriculum and therefore ascended. Ahtun Re has been watching humanity evolve ever since, serving as a teacher of mankind from the spirit realm. I first read a number of his communications in several of Shirley MacLaine’s books, of which Out on a Limb had tremendously helped me expand my own view on reincarnation. But it was Ahtun Re’s prominent appearance in Dr. Walter Semkiw’s Return of the Revolutionaries that then eventually prompted me to contact Kevin Ryerson. As a trance channel, Kevin allows Ahtun Re to connect with his spirit and to utilize his body in order to communicate with humans, which is why Kevin jokes that as a channel he serves as a “human telephone,” connecting the spirit world with the human race.

It took me a little while to fully grasp that an Ascended Master of the likes of Jesus and Buddha was chatting with me about the mysteries of life and my past lives. It compels respect and humility, but by no means do I think that I was at any time the exclusive recipient of such guidance. As time and space are really relative constructs that are perceived and experienced very differently on different levels of existence and even in different states of consciousness, Ascended Masters can inspire and communicate with countless humans simultaneously. Of course, that doesn’t take away anything from anyone’s personal experience, but it helps to put things in perspective. As I spoke with Ahtun Re over the phone, his easy conversational style and humor quickly put me at ease anyway.

The information that he conveyed matched what I had heard from other psychics, what I had found out in past life regressions, and what I had gleaned intuitively during my meditations, without anyone involved having collaborated or shared any information prior to that. He also helped me to connect with information that I had not yet been fully aware of. For example, at the end of our first conversation when he volunteered, “Oh, and by the way, we had two lives together as friends.” One of those had been with Pharaoh Menes, in which both of us had been Nubian warriors. Ahtun Re told me that he had been the head general of the pharaoh’s armies, and that I had been the pharaoh’s general of the chariots. The chariot drivers, Ahtun Re related, were the equivalent of today’s Special Forces warriors.

This book is currently available in paperback (July 10, 2014) at amazon.com http://www.amazon.com/The-Awakening-Warrior-Remembered-Volume/dp/1497521262/ref=sr_1_cc_1?s=aps&ie=UTF8&qid=1405112096&sr=1-1-catcorr&keywords=the+awakening+of+a+warrior+michael+jaco

The book is also available in digital format: