I had someone sneak up behind me and intentionally startle me again yesterday — just when I thought I could relax.
“Stick ’em up!” they laughed. A poke in my ribs.
My heart pounded. Adrenaline surged like I was back in a fight for my life. My fists clenched. Then I smiled and played it off. This time it was just someone trying to entertain themselves by sneaking up on me.
It’s always the same. “You’re not supposed to let someone sneak up on a cop/agent/veteran like that. Ha! You’re getting soft!” They laugh, amused with themselves.
I breathe deep. It’s going to take an hour before this electric surge of neurochemicals wears off. I feel desperately like I need to hit something. But I just smile.
I was relaxed and happy just ten seconds ago.
This was the third time this month. Now I’m scanning for threats. I didn’t scan when I walked into the building because I didn’t want to look like the wary veteran who always needs the corner seat. But the corner is exactly where I’m going now. To be safe from another startle. Thanks to you.
I have a 30-year habit of scanning for threats. My startle response saved my life more than once. The instinct to guard my holster or block a punch brought me safely home to my wife and family on many nights.
I’m not dead in an alley at the hands of evil men because my hands move quickly under stress. You don’t know the restraint it took not to put my elbow into your jaw just now.
I’m not ashamed of my startle response. It’s the beautiful scar carved into my mind from serving my country and community.
I’m not broken. I’m dangerous.
Intentionally startling a veteran of any Profession of Arms is a selfish act — like poking a lion in a trap just to see how he snarls.
I’m not ashamed that you startled me. But maybe, just maybe, you should be.
Jeremy D.O. Rebmann is the author of Send Me: Chronicles of an FBI Sniper. He can be contacted at: www.fbisniper.com
