25 Years in Tech, a Dozen Patents — and He Says You've Been Told Two Lies About AI | Shawn Ennis

Nick Laidlaw enlisted in the Marine Corps to go to war. The war never came for him. So he spent the years after collecting other men's: over 1,100 first-hand accounts from more than 20 armies, both sides of nearly every war since 1939, including a Taliban fighter who later apologized to him.

Ten years on the busiest ambulance in the City of Dallas. A downtown building that came down behind him with a mayday on the radio, and the smoke that dropped him to his knees. A New Year's Eve call in a barbershop where the crowd turned on the medics. A full cardiac code run on the floor of an airplane at 35,000 feet — the night he flew home from winning the Arnold Classic Brazil. Steve Kuclo is the first firefighter-paramedic in 45 episodes of this show. He quit automotive engineering when the industry collapsed, did two fire academies and two medic schools to get to Dallas, and spent a decade running the calls that don't leave — the pediatric ones, the ones where you did everything right and it didn't matter — while building himself into an IFBB Pro who stood on the Olympia stage at 26. Then 2020 took the identity he'd spent twenty years on, and the rebuild ran through the back row of a Dallas church, a marriage, and the regenerative-medicine clinic he runs today. He covers the firehouse — the kitchen table, the probie year, what brotherhood actually means, and the PTSD, divorce, addiction and suicide numbers the fire service doesn't talk about — and then opens the knowledge base: what steroids and TRT actually do to your blood, what actually kills bodybuilders, peptides in plain English, and the stem-cell treatment the host went through on camera.

Eleven days from going home. Fourteen months in eastern Afghanistan already behind them, bags half packed — and the order came down to build a brand-new combat outpost on the valley floor, in the low ground, in the middle of fighting season, surrounded by high ground they were forbidden to occupy. Three days later, at dawn on 13 July 2008, roughly 160 fighters hit Combat Outpost Kahler from every direction at once. Nine American paratroopers did not come home. 1SG(r) Jesse Queck was an 11 Charlie mortarman with Chosen Company at the Battle of Wanat. In six and a half hours he walks through the whole of it: a kid from a town of 8,000 on Virginia's Eastern Shore who watched the towers fall from a high school hallway and went looking for the war; four deployments; the helicopter crash that took his roommate and his mentor; and then the morning the mountain opened up. The mortar pit flooded with fire until the tube was useless. His weapons failed in his hands, so he picked up an AT4 he had never fired in his life, stepped into the open so the backblast wouldn't catch his own men, and put it into the treeline. His soldier Sergio Abad died on the ground beside him. When word came down that OP Topside had one man left alive on the radio — Ryan Pitts, who would later receive the Medal of Honor — Jesse said two words: I'm going. He climbed toward the fight everyone else was trying to survive, became the medic for the dying, and called in a B-1 by ear when he could no longer hear his own radio. That is the half of the story people tell. The other half is what happened when he came home to a dark place with no enemy in it — the drinking, the night his wife called him frantic, the survivor's guilt he carried for years over Abad, and the day the woman who raised Sergio told him: I don't blame you. I forgive you. I love you. Because Jesse will tell you a soldier dies twice — once when he falls, and again when no one says his name. Today he says those names. 1SG(r) Jesse Queck survived the Battle of Wanat, 13 July 2008 — one of the fiercest small-unit fights of the Afghan war, where nine American paratroopers were killed. This is the full conversation.

Colonel (r) Max Krupp will be the first to tell you he doesn’t tell war stories — you have to pull them out of him. Over 28 years he became the first Texas Army National Guardsman in history to earn the Green Beret, wore a Bronze Star with Valor for a single day in Kandahar Province that by rights should have killed him and the Afghan company he was advising, and was on the Army’s fast track to general — then walked away from all of it to raise cattle in Texas. This is the full conversation: the kid nobody bet on who did the hardest thing on offer every single time, then chose the quiet work. ▶ Watch the full conversation on YouTube: https://youtu.be/Nsg0OY-8RhY Retired U.S. Army Colonel Max Krupp sits down with The Vanguard Wall for a full-length interview spanning 28 years of service: enlisting in the New Mexico Army National Guard at 17, Ranger School, Long Range Surveillance, and becoming the first Texas Army National Guardsman to earn the Green Beret and Special Forces tab. He walks through a 13-month Afghanistan deployment as a combat advisor embedded with an Afghan National Army company, the day in Kandahar Province that earned him a Bronze Star with Valor, the Special Forces Q Course and SERE school, commanding the only airborne infantry battalion in the Texas National Guard, and why he traded a general’s track for a one-man cattle ranch raising black Angus beef. A rare, honest veteran story about leadership, service, and the quiet work after the uniform comes off.

The Marine Corps turned him down at eighteen. Twenty-four years later, CSM (Ret.) Donald "Mac" McAlister retired at the very top of the enlisted ranks — a Legion of Merit, two Bronze Stars, and a Purple Heart, with five combat tours behind him: two in Iraq, three in Afghanistan. This is one of the most honest conversations we've ever recorded. Mac takes us from a self-described "heathen redneck" childhood in Hammond, Louisiana to carrying caskets at Arlington with The Old Guard — where he learned the lesson that made him: "none of the honors are for you; they're for the family." From the invasion of Iraq and the 82nd's biggest firefight since WWII, to October 8th, 2003 — the roadside bomb that nearly killed him, and the medical retirement he refused so he could fight his way back to war. Into the Arghandab, the valley no army in history ever held, and the men he lost pieces of himself beside. And through all of it, the demons he still carries — and the wife and daughters who saved his life. A warrior, a philosopher, and a wild card — metalhead, horror-film actor, and one of the few senior leaders of his generation still reaching back to the soldiers who once feared him and now line up to hug him. Follow Mac: Instagram @don_mcalister_aka_mac