Lessons in Trust: What a Navy SEAL Exercise Taught Me About Teamwork

In the late 1990s, I found myself bobbing on the choppy waters of Moreton Bay, Australia, aboard a Rigid-Hulled Inflatable Boat (RHIB) with a group of US Navy SEALs. We were speeding toward a simulated hostile vessel in the kind of training exercise that, for them, was routine - and for me, a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

As I clung to the side of the boat, the waves lifting and dropping us violently, I thought: This is what it takes to work at the highest level - total commitment, zero hesitation. The SEALs were here to practice boarding a vessel under hostile conditions. Their mission? To secure it, neutralise threats, and complete the operation in a matter of minutes. But what they were really training for went far beyond tactical manoeuvres.

The assault team and I scaled the side of the vessel first, battling the waves as they tossed the RHIB beneath us. My heart was racing, adrenaline surging, as we secured the deck. It was a high-speed, intense moment, executed with absolute focus and precision. The team's skill and concentration were contagious, and I found myself moving in sync with them—fully caught up in the flow of their execution. Within moments the team had scaled the ship, secured the deck and neutralised the immediate threats. Then, from above, the helicopter appeared on the horizon, flying along the line of the sun to maintain an element of stealth. The air team descended with stunning speed, executing a fast-rope insertion onto the deck. At the same time, the underwater team surfaced on both sides of the ship, undetected and ready to neutralise any threat below the waterline and on the deck. The whole operation unfolded like a coordinated, almost balletic display - a testament to years of preparation and flawless teamwork.

The exercise itself was impressive, but what truly stayed with me was the way this team operated - not just in physical coordination, but in trust. Each team, whether on water, in the air or underwater, had one job to do, and they trusted each other completely to do it. No second-guessing, no hesitation. Their cohesion wasn’t just tactical - it was deeply cultural. They had trained to the point where every decision was made in perfect alignment, with no room for doubt.

I was invited as a guest of the Australian Defence Force to observe, to write, to be a fly on the wall. But the SEALs? They weren’t so sure. Despite my many protests, they were convinced I was some kind of operative myself, embedded in their ranks for reasons I could neither confirm nor deny (though I repeatedly tried). The more I insisted that I was just an observer, the more they seemed to admire what they thought was my “cover.” I learned quickly that in their world, suspicion and humour often went hand in hand.

But as I spent time with the SEALs - talking with them, socialising with them, chewing tobacco with them - I began to see what made them so elite wasn’t just their ability to storm a vessel or fast-rope onto a deck. It was their mindset. They weren’t interested in individual glory or recognition. Each of them was laser-focused on one thing: the mission. It was clear that in their world, no one cared about who got credit. It was about trust, preparation and the ability to perform under pressure without ego getting in the way.

The lessons I learned from my very brief time with the SEALs are ones that apply far beyond military operations. Whether in the corporate boardroom or on the sports field, high-performing teams are built on the same foundation: trust, communication and a shared commitment to the mission. Leadership isn’t about barking orders from the top down; it’s about knowing when to step up and when to follow, about trusting those around you to execute their part of the plan. And maybe most importantly, it’s about preparation - doing the work long before the stakes are high, so that when the time comes to perform, there’s no room for hesitation.

I left that training exercise with a deep respect for what it takes to operate at the highest level. Not just the physical endurance or technical skill, but the mental clarity and teamwork required to succeed when failure isn’t an option. We may not all be scaling ships in rough seas or neutralising threats in hostile waters, but we are all tasked with navigating pressure, making decisions and relying on the people around us. In that sense, the lessons I learned on those waves in Moreton Bay are universal: Trust your team. Mission matters. Prepare for the unexpected. And when the time comes, perform with confidence and without hesitation.

In the end, the SEALs were right about one thing. I wasn’t just an observer. That experience shaped how I think about leadership, teamwork and what it means to operate with excellence. And for that, I’ll always be grateful.