Ben Marcus interviewed Matt George for a SURFER interview titled “Out of the Blue and Into the Grey,” which ran in the June 1989 issue and opened with a recap of George’s life and career, and his recent decision to try out for the Navy SEALS.

“Matt George was born into a well-traveled Navy family on January 10, 1959. He began surfing in Hawaii in 1967. In 1975, at age 16, George dropped out of high school in San Francisco and managed to enroll in college on the Central Coast. He surfed professionally from 1979 to 1983, then began a career as a journalist, photographer and adventurer. During his years as one of SURFER’s premier contributing editors, George visited China, Fiji, Tahiti, Australia, South Africa, Central America and Allentown, and profiled such luminaries as Tom Curren, Shaun Tomson, Rabbit Bartholomew and Cheyne Horan. He has informed, entertained and provoked the surf world with his romantic brand of “I was there, so you were there” journalism.

“Then, in November 1988, Matt George joined the Navy. Following in the footsteps of Elvis Presley and Jock Sutherland, Matt made a move that, even to his closest friends, seemed inexplicable. He gave up what many saw as the ideal surfer lifestyle for a short haircut and the impersonal discipline of life in the military—and not just any branch of the military; Matt was intent on becoming a Navy SEAL. The Sea Air and Land Unit is an elite Navy force that chews up strong men with its intense training program and extremely dangerous clandestine work—everything from hostage rescue to underwater demolition. Everyone who knew Matt George was left wondering if it was just another stunt, or if their friend and co-worker was really gone for four years.

“One month later, as mysteriously as he disappeared, Matt George was back. Ten pounds lighter and hair shaved close, he was out of the Navy with an honorable discharge, a relieved smile, and a new perspective on the value of freedom and the surfing lifestyle.”

The interview below has been slightly edited

Describe your lifestyle before you made the decision to join the Navy.

I’ve always operated outside the established lines of society. I’ve done that because, to me, personal freedom and expression are so important. My father taught me that at a very early age. He was a military pilot and a Navy captain, and he always taught me to explore my own spirit—to take it to the absolute max—in romance, travel or adventure. Hopefully all three combined.

The idea to join the Navy, where did that come from?

Last year I realized I was satisfied with my accomplishments in surfing. I’d been a professional surfer, I’d traveled, I’d been a photographer, a writer, and I’d surfed perfect, empty waves by myself time and time again. I’d helped influence a television show [SURFER Magazine’s cable show] that brought surfing to the public in a bright way. I had lived it, and I’d lived it the way I wanted. So I was ready for a new challenge.

Being raised around the military I’d always had a fascination with military men. The people I’ve respected more than anyone on Earth have been military: my father, and my godfather Captain Penn, who was a fighter pilot in Vietnam. Ever since I was very young I’d always had—like most kids, I guess—fantasies about being at war. I started thinking about man at his ultimate, and in my opinion, man is at his absolute primal ultimate in war. I thought, How am I going to pursue this? Now, I’m an exceptional athlete, and I’ve always maintained that athleticism because it’s part of my aura. So when I started thinking about what might come next, I wanted to utilize that, as well as my experience of the ocean. I’m very comfortable in the ocean, and it seemed like something that could be truly valuable in a combat situation. I started looking into things—the Foreign Legion, all the different Special Forces—and came across the Navy SEALs. These guys are ultimate warriors, and I was so hungry to try to achieve an ultimate that I decided to seize the change. I used some of the connections I have in the military.

What kind of obstacles did you have to deal with?

My age, first of all. I was 29, and the limit for the SEALs is 26—but they really want 18-to- 22-year-olds. And they have very stringent physical standards, you have to pass a huge battery of tests to even qualify. But before any of that, I had to get an age waiver, and that came all the way from Washington.

When did you sign the enlistment papers, and when did you actually go in?

I signed the papers on November 1, 1988, and I was in on November 28, which was unheard of—it usually takes about six months. I was so committed and excited. I trained really hard for four months previous to that.

Lots of running, cycling, a lot of swimming, some weight training and calisthenics. I was completely fit and prepared when I went in. I was ready. Next came the spiritual transformation; going from being a surfer to joining the Navy. I had to handle that, as well. I mean, it was an absolute change to sacrifice everything I’d done up to that point, surfing-wise, just for a chance at being one of those ultimate warriors.

November 28: You packed up your gear and drove your motorcycle to San Diego?

No, my brother Sam dropped me off in Los Angeles and I was bused down to San Diego. We embraced, and he said, “Go hard.’’

A few hours later I was sitting on the bus heading south, and we cruised by San Clemente, where I live. I still had my hair, and I still had my ’tude. I just kept running it through my mind: “You are going for it.”

Did you look out the window when you drove by Trestles?

Absolutely. We drove by and I was saying, “Excuse me, excuse me!” I leaned over and checked it out. It was 2-4′, and I swear I saw my brother take off on a wave.

An hour later we arrived at the Naval Training Center, in San Diego, at Point Loma. That started the boot camp adventure, which was unbelievable. Everything you’ve seen in movies exists. Everything from 

it really exists. They shave your head. They humiliate you. They won’t let you sleep. They do all those incredible things to strip you down and rebuild you. Now, you have to understand something: I had to go in as an enlisted man because I was one year short of a college degree. I didn’t go in as an officer, although that’s where I was headed.

There were people from everywhere. People like me, who were there for a very specific purpose, all the way down to the criminals who were given a choice between Navy and jail; they were all in my company. I was made the RCPO—the Recruit Chief Petty Officer—in charge of 80 men almost immediately.

Did those 80 guys respect you? Did they like you?

Very much. I brought a surfer attitude to the Navy. I ran those guys like I would run a surf trip and they loved it. Our company was known for its eccentricities. For our marching song, I picked an African chant. We were called the Quiet Storm. The other companies were called the Bulldogs and the Sharks and all this kind of stuff, and we were the Quiet Storm. We were the full-on boneheads of training.

That was a little harder. This one company commander picked me out right away, and he said, “What’s the matter with you? Do you like Russians or something?” I knew if answered “No” he’d say he was Russian and kick my ass. And if I said “Yes” he’d say I was unpatriotic and kick my ass. So I just looked him straight in the eye, and said, “I don’t know, sir, I’ve never met one.” He just looked at me for a good long second, then moved down the line and started harassing the next guy.

That’s an interesting story—this is how Allentown saved my life. When it came time for the fitness test to qualify for the SEALs training program, 30 of us tried out and just three made it. I’m not at liberty to say what exactly is in the fitness tests, but I can tell you it involves a battery of tests where you swim for long distances above and below water, go immediately into push-ups, then sit-ups and long-distance running—you do it over and over.

So I got through that part fine—and then the trouble started because I had to go through a super-detailed physical exam. The life I’d led previous to the Navy was like a road map on my body. Scars and broken bones showed up—all kinds of things. They were willing to overlook the two hairline fractures on my spine which I’d broken while cycling, but they couldn’t overlook the missing piece in my left ankle. The bone had been surgically removed after I’d broken it that night during the battle of Allentown.

Okay, stop. Let’s recap Allentown. You were there for the wavepool contest in 1985, and basically things got out of control. One night you went onstage during the hot buns’ contest—a contest for girls—in your Speedo. You danced around, pissed off all the guys in the audience, and won the contest.

I jumped off the stage into the adoring crowd, and sometime during the melee that broke out—somewhere in the ensuing riot—I broke my ankle.

Right. Afterward, the lieutenant sat me down—he was a human being; he knew what I was all about—and gave me some advice. He said, “Look, I am advising you officially to take this chance and go home. With the training you’ve got coming up, I don’t think your ankle’s going to hold, especially with the paratrooping you’ll have to do. You’re going to be given test after test, and they’re just going to find this ankle problem over and over again. Considering your age, I just don’t think you’re going to make it. I’m sorry. And I’m not going to hide it on my report. If you want to stay I can give you two choices: You can either go for the SEALs and try to get by, or you can just stay and be in the regular Navy.”

What were your options in the regular Navy?

I would have been a gunner’s mate. A weapons specialist. But then the doctor gave me a third option—an honorable medical discharge. Now, at this point I must be honest with the world: When he said that a wave of relief washed over me. I said to this doctor, “Okay, send me home.”

Otherwise, you were looking at four years in the military?

Up to that point, had anything you’d seen or experience made you not want to be in the Navy for four years?

No, because I was too committed. It wasn’t, “Four years of this?” I’d only been in a month and that hadn’t hit me yet. I was still committed. I was raised in the military. My father was a captain, I was raised at Pearl Harbor, Hawaii. I lived at Alameda Naval Air Station near San Francisco. When I was very young I lived in Cannes, France, because my father was stationed on the Boston, out with the Seventh Fleet. I understand these people. All my life I was around the military, so it wasn’t as much of a shock to me as it was to others.

So why the wave of relief when you got the chance to go home?

Because the SEAL deal was off the take, which meant my destiny lay elsewhere.

Back to the guys you were in training with. Were there other surfers in there?

Some were pretty unbelievable. The minute they got in and saw what was happening there was a rash of stunts to try and get out—fake suicides, bed-wetting, severe headaches, people acting crazy, one guy even punched a company commander. But the one I was proudest of was this kid Mclnerney, in a sister company of ours. He was a surfer. His father was a captain who had forced him into the Navy and he didn’t want any part of it—he just wanted to surf.

The slick way is to get out with an honorable discharge, and medical was the way to go. But Mclnerney was on a whole different plane of existence. He came up with a much grander plan than anybody else for his escape. Here’s the story; it was classic. There was this bridge that went over to the little island where all us baldheaded recruits stayed. The bridge was about 25′ above water, not far from the San Diego Yacht Club. The horror was that we marched over this bridge every day, and we were high enough to look out and see the cars on the freeway, the hills of San Diego and, worst of all, this yacht harbor with pleasure boats, jet-skis, girls in bikinis and guys drinking Budweiser. From the top of the bridge—trying to march with eyes front—we could see and almost smell it.

The true Bridge of Sighs. It was too much for Mclnerney, and he hatched a wild plan. I saw the whole thing go down. One morning we were on our way to breakfast. I was marching the men, Mclnerney was in the company just ahead of us, and as hit the top of the bridge it all suddenly became clear to him. The answer was to return to the sea; to escape by the sea. His primordial instinct was so powerful that in full dress—boots, pants, work jacket, web belt, T-shirt—he broke rank at the top of the bridge, walked very calmly over to the edge, stood up on the railing, threw his hands over his head and dove.

I don’t know if you could call it a plan, exactly. But at that moment he decided to swim to a dock, steal a boat and sail away. He didn’t know where, he didn’t know how. In fact, he’d never sailed in his life. He was probably thinking Mexico, or something.

They plucked him out of the water immediately and arrested him. He was discharged shortly after that.

So the United States has two less surfers safeguarding their security.

I’m out, and Mclnerney’s out there operating somewhere, too.

After you got out where did you go? You disappeared for a while.

I was officially released from the Navy at Christmas. I flew back East to spend the holiday with my Dad in Ohio.

Like I’d just come out of a huge, gnarly barrel. The kind where you make it to the shoulder, your heart pops back into your body and you think, “That was heavy, that was intense, but man am I glad I’m out of there!”

I mean, I was honored to have even been given the opportunity to become a SEAL. I will say—and I want this to go on the record—I was not a Navy SEAL. It takes two-and-a-half years to qualify. I was never a SEAL, I only passed the initial tests. I was proud to have accomplished what I did, but I’m very glad to be out.

I have nothing but respect and appreciation for the Navy and the military, not only for what they give us as human beings here in America and the rest of world but also for what this brief experience taught me in my heart, firsthand. That said—I’m free. I think my next mission will involve global protection of the environment. That’s going to be, I believe, my life’s pursuit, and surfing is going to be an important part of it.

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