212. I HAD MY DREAM JOB | Navy SEAL Commander Retires and the Struggles of What's Next

Gordon Schmidt

In Episode 212 of the Transition Drill Podcast, Retired Navy SEAL Commander Gordon Schmidt shares his story of resilience, leadership, and transformation. From his early years growing up in a constantly moving family to discovering rowing at Lehigh University and earning his way into the U.S. Naval Academy, Gordon’s journey is defined by determination and adaptability. He recounts starting his career as a Surface Warfare Officer, navigating uncertainty while fighting for a chance to attend BUD/S, and the defining moment when he achieved his goal of becoming a Navy SEAL. Gordon takes us inside the challenges of training, the lessons forged in combat, and the brotherhood that shaped his career. Now retired, he reflects on transition struggles from high-tempo operations to civilian life, finding new purpose through rowing coaching, mentoring, and leadership development. For veterans, first responders, and anyone facing change, Gordon’s insights offer guidance on building resilience and leading with purpose.

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Gordon Schmidt’s story begins with movement, adaptation, and the quiet shaping of resilience. Born in New Jersey, his childhood was defined by constant relocation as his father, a former Navy Pilot, pursued a career in aerospace engineering. Gordon’s father's work often meant uprooting the family every few years. From Northern Virginia to South Carolina, then to San Diego, and finally to Connecticut, Gordon learned early how to adjust to new environments and find his footing among different communities.

Gordon’s father’s professional life had its challenges. At one point, his role as an aerospace plant manager brought the family close to moving permanently to the Pacific Northwest. A planned relocation to Seattle had been meticulously mapped out. A school was chosen, a home identified, and Gordon had imagined a future there. But just months before the move, his father accepted an unexpected opportunity in Connecticut, uprooting Gordon’s carefully constructed vision of what came next. That shift left a lasting impression on him. It was an early lesson in how quickly plans can change and how adapting is often the only option.

Throughout these transitions, sports grounded him. Gordon was a natural athlete, excelling in multiple disciplines. Cross country, basketball, and baseball filled his high school years, giving him an outlet for his competitive drive. Baseball was his first love, and he pursued it seriously, envisioning himself competing at the collegiate level. He was determined enough to attend Lehigh University, where he joined the team and looked forward to making an impact.

But reality came quickly. Coming from a small high school with limited exposure, Gordon walked into a program stocked with players from powerhouse schools. It was there he began to understand his experience and ability did not match what was required to compete at higher levels. Rather than retreat, he pivoted, seeking out a new challenge. While at Lehigh, he discovered rowing, a sport he had never considered but one that would ultimately shape his identity as both an athlete and a leader.

Rowing clicked immediately. The rhythm, the discipline, and the demand for synchronized teamwork lit something inside him. His speed and drive on the water stood out, and the coach saw potential. That decision became pivotal in his trajectory, not just athletically but academically and professionally.

Rowing played a direct role in Gordon’s eventual acceptance to the U.S. Naval Academy. He had applied out of high school but was rejected, a disappointment that would have deterred many. Instead, he treated it like a challenge. He reapplied while at Lehigh, this time carrying the discipline and recommendation that came from competing in a demanding sport. Though his coach would later insist his admission came from his own merits, Gordon always suspected rowing gave him an edge.

His father’s influence loomed large during this period, though it came with an unexpected twist. Despite being a Naval Academy graduate himself, his father initially advised against Gordon applying. He explained the challenges plainly: Gordon’s eyesight was less than perfect, his academic record was solid but not exceptional, and his personality leaned independent, preferring to question authority rather than blindly follow rules. In his father’s view, the Academy might not be the best fit.

Gordon listened but persisted. The idea had taken root, and he wanted the opportunity to prove himself. His father eventually supported his decision fully, shifting from cautious skepticism to Gordon’s biggest champion. That persistence paid off when Gordon received his acceptance letter. It marked the start of a new chapter, one where his competitive spirit, adaptability, and resilience would be tested in ways he had never imagined.

Arriving at the U.S. Naval Academy marked the beginning of a completely different world for Gordon Schmidt. He stepped onto the grounds knowing this was an environment designed to challenge him mentally, physically, and emotionally. The first year, known as Plebe Summer, was an abrupt introduction to the culture of discipline and precision that defined the institution. Early mornings, constant drills, and relentless expectations quickly stripped away any sense of comfort. Gordon had come prepared to work, but even he admits the intensity surprised him.

Initially, his plan was to commission as a Marine Corps officer. The reputation of the Marines appealed to his competitive spirit, and he was drawn to their toughness and reputation for excellence. That idea lasted until the end of Plebe Summer, where Gordon realized the reality of life in the Marine Corps was not the right fit for him. While he deeply respected the Marines, something about the structure and demands of their path clashed with his instincts and personality.

As he settled into life at the Academy, Gordon’s exposure to the various career paths available broadened his perspective. He met pilots, submariners, surface warfare officers, and special operators, observing each community’s culture. It was during this time that he met several SEAL officers and senior enlisted SEAL advisors stationed at the Academy. They carried themselves differently. Their approach to leadership and problem-solving stood out, and Gordon was drawn to the energy and authenticity they brought into conversations. More importantly, he noticed that the peers he naturally gravitated toward —the ones who shared his mindset and drive —were also considering the SEALs.

That realization started to shape his identity within the Academy. While other communities were well respected, the SEAL teams represented the kind of mission, culture, and challenge Gordon wanted to be a part of. He saw in the special operations community the type of camaraderie and shared purpose he had been searching for since childhood. Still, wanting to be a SEAL and earning the opportunity were two very different things.

Competition for a SEAL billet was intense. Within Gordon’s graduating class, there were 16 available officer slots, which later dropped to 14 due to unique circumstances. Among hundreds of highly capable midshipmen, the fight for those billets required exceptional performance. Gordon’s athletic background became an asset during this period, and rowing continued to play a significant role in his development. As part of the Academy’s rowing team, he thrived in a physically demanding environment while learning how to push himself beyond perceived limits. Rowing required total synchronization with teammates, teaching him that individual strength mattered far less than collective performance. These lessons would prove invaluable in his career later.

His first true introduction to the SEAL training pipeline came during a program called “Mini-BUD/S.” Designed for midshipmen, the program offered a condensed experience of two weeks at Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL training followed by two weeks embedded with an operational SEAL team. For Gordon, it was transformative. The first phase was punishing, giving him an authentic taste of the physical and mental demands ahead. Instructors pushed participants hard, showing no leniency simply because they were students. Gordon welcomed it. He and his classmates embraced the grind, feeding off each other’s determination to finish strong.

The second half of the program brought an even deeper impact. Gordon spent time alongside an operational SEAL team conducting desert warfare training in Southern California. What struck him most was the openness of the operators. Despite being midshipmen with minimal experience, they were treated with respect and even invited to participate in live-fire exercises. The chance to handle advanced weapons systems and train in realistic environments was unforgettable. One interaction in particular stayed with him: meeting instructor Danny Fowls, a larger-than-life personality who radiated energy even after days of limited sleep. Danny’s relentless drive and passion for his job left a lasting impression, planting the seed of the kind of operator Gordon aspired to become.

By the time he completed the program, Gordon’s commitment to becoming a SEAL had solidified. He knew he had found his calling, but the road ahead would be steep. When graduation approached and billets were announced, he was not selected for one of the highly coveted SEAL slots. It was a setback, but not one he allowed to define him. Gordon already understood from earlier life experiences that success rarely came on the first attempt. Instead, he committed to pursuing an alternative route: entering the Surface Warfare Officer (SWO) community with the intent of laterally transferring into BUD/S when the opportunity arose.

This decision placed him on a path that would test his patience, resilience, and determination. While his classmates who secured billets moved directly toward their SEAL training pipelines, Gordon was preparing to step into a community he had not originally envisioned for himself. The next chapter of his journey would begin aboard a ship in Everett, Washington, where he would learn hard lessons about leadership, persistence, and navigating uncertainty while keeping his ultimate goal in sight.

Gordon’s commissioning to the Surface Warfare Officer (SWO) community marked the start of a chapter defined by adaptation, perseverance, and calculated risk. Stationed in Everett, Washington, he entered a world far different from the one he envisioned when he first set his sights on becoming a SEAL. Instead of immediately stepping into the special operations pipeline, he found himself navigating life aboard a Navy destroyer, where responsibilities came fast and expectations were high.

His introduction to shipboard life was abrupt. Unlike previous Naval Academy graduates who attended a six-month Surface Warfare Officer School in Newport, Rhode Island, Gordon’s class was the first to bypass formal schooling and report directly to their ships. Within days of arrival, he was on deployment, flying into Bahrain, then down to the United Arab Emirates, and ultimately boarding his ship by helicopter in the middle of the Gulf of Oman. He had never set foot on a surface ship before, yet he was expected to perform as a junior officer immediately.

The environment was overwhelming at first. The pace, the complexity of operations, and the weight of responsibility created a steep learning curve. Initially assigned to the combat systems department, Gordon’s role consisted of routing casualty reports across the ship, securing signatures, and sending updates to leadership. It was repetitive and unfulfilling, but he knew the position was temporary. After returning from deployment, he was reassigned to the engineering department, a move he initially resisted but one that would profoundly shape his leadership approach.

Engineering placed him in charge of sailors responsible for maintaining the ship’s gas turbine engines, and it was here that Gordon began to thrive. The sailors under his supervision were independent-minded, hardworking, and resistant to unnecessary authority. They valued competence above rank, and Gordon learned quickly that earning their respect required humility and consistency rather than orders. He immersed himself in understanding the systems, spending hours in the plant and eventually qualifying to stand watch over the ship’s engineering controls. Running casualty control scenarios during training exercises taught him the importance of procedure, communication, and decisiveness under pressure — lessons that would later mirror situations he faced as a SEAL officer leading missions in unpredictable environments.

Throughout his time aboard the ship, Gordon never lost sight of his ultimate goal: earning a spot at BUD/S. The process to get there, however, was daunting. There was no formal pathway or guidance at the time. Officers had to navigate the system largely on their own, tracking application cycles, securing interviews with SEAL officers, passing rigorous physical screening tests, and preparing detailed packages for review boards that only met twice per year.

Gordon applied during his first deployment but was not selected on his initial attempt. It was a crushing disappointment, but he used it as fuel. He reached out to mentors and learned what he could do to strengthen his application. His commanding officer, recognizing Gordon’s dedication, went above and beyond to support him. During the ship’s return transit from deployment, the CO arranged for Gordon to leave temporarily in Guam and fly to Pearl Harbor, where he could train in the pool, retake his physical fitness test, and conduct a second interview with a senior SEAL officer.

That week in Hawaii was critical. Gordon trained relentlessly, preparing his body and mind to perform at his best. He took the screening test, interviewed with the commanding officer of SEAL Delivery Vehicle Team One, and assembled a stronger, more competitive application package. When the next selection board convened, he finally received the orders he had been working toward for years: a slot at BUD/S.

The day he found out would stay with him forever. It was early morning in February, gray skies over Everett, when a friend handed him a printed message containing his orders. He had been selected, and his report date was just four days away. After years of uncertainty and grinding through setbacks, Gordon was finally on his way.

Leaving the ship was bittersweet. By this point, Gordon had grown close to his team in engineering and respected the sailors who had taught him so much about leadership, responsibility, and humility. Still, he knew the opportunity to attend BUD/S was a defining moment. On February 28th, he packed his gear, said his goodbyes, and headed to San Diego to begin the training that would test him in ways he had never experienced before.

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Reporting to Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL (BUD/S) in San Diego was the moment Gordon Schmidt had been working toward for years. After setbacks, long hours aboard the ship, and relentless preparation, he finally had his chance. Yet stepping onto the grinder as a fleet officer brought its own challenges. Officers arriving from the surface fleet carried a reputation, and it was not always a flattering one. Gordon learned this the first week when a SEAL team commander spotted the surface warfare insignia on his uniform and said bluntly, “They don’t have a good reputation right now. Just don’t quit.” The message was simple and sharp: his past didn’t matter here. Everything would be earned.

That idea resonated with Gordon. He understood that BUD/S was about proving yourself daily, not relying on prior accomplishments. He approached training with humility, aware that his rank meant little in a place where respect came from performance, attitude, and resilience. The instructors made sure everyone understood the stakes. From the beginning, BUD/S stripped trainees of any illusion of comfort or control. Every evolution — runs, swims, log PT, obstacle courses, and cold-water immersions was designed to break candidates down physically and mentally, revealing what they were truly made of.

Among the instructors was someone Gordon immediately recognized: Danny Fowls, the same SEAL he had met years earlier during his Mini-BUD/S program. Back then, Danny’s relentless energy and passion for the job had made a lasting impression. Seeing him again, this time as an instructor pushing him to his limits, brought the experience full circle. That familiarity did not earn Gordon any favors; if anything, it heightened expectations. Danny demanded everything from every candidate, and Gordon respected him for it.

The early phases of training tested Gordon’s endurance and mental toughness, but he found strength in preparation. Years of rowing, leadership experience aboard the ship, and long hours spent training had built a foundation that helped him push through the grind. Still, no amount of preparation could eliminate the physical strain or the psychological pressure of constant performance under watchful eyes. BUD/S created an environment where doubt crept in during the quietest moments, especially during the endless exposure to freezing Pacific waters. Gordon faced those doubts head-on, reminding himself that quitting was never an option.

The cultural transition, however, was just as demanding as the physical one. Coming from the surface fleet meant Gordon was older and more senior than many of his classmates. He entered BUD/S as a lieutenant, the same rank as future SEAL platoon commanders, but within the training environment, he was no different than anyone else. He quickly learned the importance of blending humility with quiet confidence, focusing on learning rather than trying to lead. Building trust with his classmates meant showing up every day ready to work, shoulder the burden, and perform under pressure.

Stories from within the class reinforced the reality of the challenge. Trainees who showed up unprepared or overconfident often struggled to adapt. Gordon recalled one sailor from his ship who arrived at BUD/S only to quit before training even officially began. Watching that unfold reinforced the idea that mental preparation mattered as much as physical readiness. Success came from understanding why you were there and refusing to let discomfort dictate decisions.

Earning respect in this environment came slowly, but Gordon’s approach, focusing on consistency, effort, and learning, served him well. He embraced the lessons from his instructors, leaned on his classmates during moments of exhaustion, and committed to the team above himself. Along the way, the friendships forged under pressure became bonds that would last for life.

After months of relentless training, Gordon completed BUD/S and earned the right to wear the Trident, officially joining the SEAL community. It was the culmination of years of persistence, but more importantly, it marked the beginning of a new phase of his journey. Graduating BUD/S was not the peak; it was the entry point into an entirely different world, one where the stakes were higher, the demands greater, and the expectations relentless.

When Gordon Schmidt checked into SEAL Team 10 in 2007, the global landscape was defined by ongoing combat operations in Iraq and Afghanistan. Deployments were constant, the operational tempo was high, and the learning curve for new officers was steep. Walking into his first SEAL platoon, Gordon carried his newly earned Trident, but he quickly understood that it did not grant him instant credibility. The men he joined were steeped in experience. Among them were 15 Bronze Stars, three Silver Stars, and a Navy Cross, a collection of hard-earned recognition that told the story of battles fought and sacrifices made.

Gordon entered as a lieutenant, the same rank as platoon commanders, but he was not assigned to lead immediately. In administrative terms, he was evaluated alongside other officers, but operationally, he was expected to earn trust before taking on command. He walked into an environment where combat veterans measured new leaders not by rank but by competence, composure, and humility. In his mind, the unspoken question from his teammates was clear: “How are you going to make sure you don’t get me killed?”

Fortunately, Gordon was paired with a seasoned troop chief, Senior Chief Stephen "Steph" Bass, whose mentorship became foundational to his development as a combat leader. Steph was already a legend within the community, known for his role in operations immediately following September 11, including rescuing CIA officer Mike Spann during the battle of Qala-i-Jangi in Afghanistan. From their first meeting, Steph took Gordon under his wing, laying out expectations plainly. He demanded preparation, attention to detail, and respect for the experience of the operators in the platoon.

This dynamic shaped Gordon’s approach to leadership. He focused on listening first, observing how his teammates operated, and absorbing everything he could from those who had seen combat up close. Rather than trying to prove himself through authority, he demonstrated commitment by showing up prepared, working hard, and asking the right questions. Over time, trust began to build, and he earned the confidence of those around him.

But this period of growth came during one of the most challenging times in SEAL history. The Red Wings operation, which resulted in the deaths of 19 U.S. servicemen, including Navy SEALs, was still fresh in the minds of many within the community. Gordon knew several people connected to that mission, including Lieutenant Eric Christensen, who had taught at the Naval Academy during Gordon’s plebe year. News of Eric’s death hit hard and made the risks of his new profession tangible.

Gordon became a student of these lessons. He studied after-action reports, spoke with operators willing to share their experiences, and examined what could be learned from missions that went wrong. The goal was never to second-guess decisions made in the chaos of battle but to internalize knowledge that could help him make better decisions when lives depended on it. This dedication to preparation became a defining part of his leadership philosophy.

Deployments to Iraq and Afghanistan followed, placing Gordon and his platoon in environments where the margin for error was razor-thin. Each mission required balancing aggression with caution, speed with security, and trust with verification. The operators around him taught him how to navigate the chaos, how to adapt to shifting circumstances, and how to communicate clearly when the pressure was highest.

Brotherhood became the cornerstone of survival. Living, training, and fighting alongside one another built bonds that transcended rank and background. Long nights planning operations, endless days in harsh environments, and the shared understanding of risk forged connections that would last well beyond their time in uniform. Losses were inevitable, and when they came, they carried a heavy weight. Within the SEAL teams, honoring the fallen meant more than remembering their names; it meant living up to the standard they set and ensuring the lessons of their sacrifices were never forgotten.

Through these experiences, Gordon evolved into a more capable, grounded, and empathetic leader. The responsibility of leading men into combat forced him to blend confidence with humility, decision-making with listening, and authority with accountability. Every deployment added layers to his understanding of what it truly meant to lead under pressure.

After years of operating at the highest levels within the SEAL community, Gordon Schmidt eventually reached the decision point faced by many career special operators: when to step away. The decision was not simple. Serving alongside teammates in high-stakes environments had been more than a profession; it was an identity forged through shared hardship, success, and loss. Walking away meant redefining purpose and confronting questions about who he was outside the uniform.

The transition began well before his final day in service. Years of experience had taught Gordon the value of deliberate preparation, and he approached leaving the teams with the same discipline he brought to missions. He reflected on what mattered most, identifying priorities for his family, his personal growth, and his professional future. Like many veterans, he faced uncertainty about how his skillset would translate into the civilian world, but he leaned on the traits that had carried him through his career: adaptability, humility, and persistence.

One unexpected source of clarity came through returning to a sport that had played a pivotal role in shaping his early life: rowing. Gordon had discovered rowing during his year at Lehigh University before entering the Naval Academy, and the sport had become foundational to his development as an athlete and leader. After leaving the SEAL teams, he found himself drawn back to it, this time as a coach. Stepping into that role gave him the chance to reconnect with the values that rowing instilled in him years earlier — discipline, synchronization, and trust in teammates.

Coaching young athletes offered Gordon a sense of purpose during the early stages of transition. The rowing shell became another kind of team environment, one where the lessons he carried from special operations could be applied in a different but equally impactful way. He taught rowers that success came from collective effort rather than individual strength, a philosophy that mirrored the operational culture of the SEAL teams. Whether it was preparing for races or managing the pressures of competition, Gordon used his experience to build resilience and accountability in the athletes he coached.

Outside of rowing, Gordon also began focusing on leadership development for professionals in a variety of fields. He discovered that many of the principles that guided him in combat — clear communication, preparation, adaptability, and accountability applied directly to business, personal development, and organizational growth. Rather than centering conversations on his past accomplishments, he emphasized the practical applications of lessons learned under pressure, helping leaders and teams perform at higher levels in their own arenas.

For veterans and first responders preparing for transition, Gordon’s advice centers on three core principles. First, embrace humility. The experience gained in service is invaluable, but entering a new field requires a willingness to learn, listen, and adapt. Second, build a support network early. Whether through family, peers, or mentors, having people who understand the challenges of transition can make the difference between struggling alone and thriving through change. Finally, focus on purpose over position. Titles and roles may change, but identifying what drives you at your core provides direction long after leaving the service.

Today, Gordon channels his passion for leadership, coaching, and personal development into helping others grow. Whether it is mentoring athletes in the boat, working with professionals navigating high-pressure environments, or advising veterans stepping into civilian careers, he continues to serve by empowering others. Drawing from his own journey, he demonstrates that fulfillment comes from finding purpose beyond the uniform and helping others face their challenges with preparation, resilience, and clarity.

In Closing

Commander Gordon Schmidt’s journey is a testament to perseverance, adaptability, and purpose. From the challenges of earning his place in the SEAL Teams to leading through combat and navigating life after service, his story offers powerful lessons for veterans, first responders, and anyone facing transition. Today, Gordon channels his experience into coaching, mentoring, and leadership development, helping others perform at their highest potential both on and off the water. His insights remind us that identity does not end with the uniform and that fulfillment comes from growth, service, and finding new ways to lead with clarity and purpose.

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