In times of war or uncertainty, there is a special breed of warrior ready to answer our nation’s call. A common man with uncommon desire to succeed… I am that man.
— U.S. Navy SEAL Code
Writing about the military, especially those who served our nation in the U.S. Armed Forces, is an honor and a responsibility taken with profound seriousness. The potential for sensationalizing or exploiting veteran experiences for media or corporate gain is a constant concern, a practice that occurs with regrettable frequency. This author’s respect for and personal relationships with the military community often necessitate a cautious approach to ensure the privacy of individuals and the institutions they represent. Some experiences remain off the record, a necessary condition that allows the spirit of the story to endure.
Discussions of military history can indeed be divisive. As a U.S. military historian by training, my perspective is shaped by this background, yet it represents only a fraction of the many globally nuanced viewpoints applicable to this subject. The world of horology is international, diverse, and robust enough to accommodate a multitude of contributions, even when conclusions may differ.
As a civilian, my career path has been fortunate. After leaving academia, I served as a liaison to the U.S. Office of Veterans Affairs. My educational background provided the framework to contextualize the accounts of my colleagues’ service. I was initiated into the unique conventions of military humor, learned the precise execution of a parachute landing fall (PLF), and, over time, earned the trust to hear memories that will undoubtedly burden veterans for a lifetime. While history books offer understanding, it is the veterans who have lived those histories, who have, in essence, written the books.
Military service and the profound bonds forged within that unique kinship possess their own distinct language and culture. For those who have not shared those specific experiences, a conversational understanding can be built and connections forged with effort. However, true fluency in that language remains elusive for outsiders. This preamble serves to illuminate my personal perspective on the ethics of a non-veteran discussing duty, sacrifice, and courage. To write about watches is to write about those who wear them and the stories they choose to share. Ultimately, the truest meaning of those stories belongs to those who lived them.
A New Era of Warfare Emerges
In 1962, President John F. Kennedy stood at the helm of a nation grappling with a pivotal moment. Thirteen days of global tension brought the world to the brink of nuclear annihilation during the Cuban Missile Crisis. While the peaceful resolution, which led to the withdrawal of Soviet missiles from Cuba and American missiles from Turkey, was a humanitarian triumph, it was shadowed by the quiet yet significant expansion of America’s military presence in Southeast Asia.
This era marked a profound shift in the nature of warfare. Historians classify the First and Second World Wars as "total wars," characterized by the mobilization of a nation’s entire industrial and human capital against an adversary. However, the advent of nuclear weapons in 1945 fundamentally altered this paradigm. The devastating potential of these weapons rendered the concept of "total war" obsolete; unleashing full national might risked the annihilation of the planet and its diverse societies.
The evolution of global conflict necessitated a corresponding evolution within the U.S. Armed Forces. Covert operations became an increasingly vital tool for pursuing national objectives through indirect means. The logic was simple: if hypothetical forces left no discernible footprints, they could not inadvertently provoke political fallout. In this context, President Kennedy authorized the creation of a new elite force, designed for unparalleled flexibility and multi-domain capability. Their missions would be high-stakes, their conditioning designed to render them unbreakable. Thus, the U.S. Navy SEALs were born.
The Genesis of the SEALs: Echoes of the Frogmen
The initial cadre of SEAL Teams was drawn from approximately 120 personnel of the esteemed Underwater Demolition Teams (UDTs), affectionately known as the "Frogmen." This nickname, derived from their minimalist gear, rubber swim fins, and stealth swimming techniques, belied their critical mission: to reconnoiter beaches and clear underwater obstacles, providing essential intelligence and safe passage for amphibious landing forces.
Their operational doctrines were heavily influenced by lessons learned during World War II. The Battle of Tarawa in 1943 stands as a stark example. Allied troops sustained staggering casualties as dense coral reefs prevented landing craft from reaching the shore. The absence of prior intelligence regarding these obstacles proved catastrophic. Thousands of soldiers from the 2nd Marine Division were forced to wade nearly half a mile through chest-deep water under intense enemy fire, with an estimated 75% of the first wave killed or wounded. This engagement remains one of the bloodiest in U.S. Marine Corps history.
Today, Navy SEALs honor their UDT heritage and the bravery of their predecessors. Despite being nearly defenseless, armed only with fins and a dive mask, these early warriors led countless assaults on enemy shores. A bronze statue, "The Naked Warrior," located near the Naval Special Warfare Center in Coronado, California, serves as a potent reminder to all Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL (BUD/S) candidates of the hallowed lineage awaiting those who earn the Trident.
The early equipment for the SEAL Teams of the 1960s was a pragmatic amalgamation of military and civilian sources. While the Navy gradually worked to equip these nascent units, Lieutenant Commander Roy Boehm, the first executive officer of SEAL Team Two, took proactive measures. Having received authorization to procure materials from the open market, archival records indicate he did so extensively. A notable purchase order reveals the procurement of 125 Tudor Oyster Prince Submariner ref. 7928 watches directly from the brand’s New York City office in December 1962, shipped to the Naval Amphibious Base Little Creek in Virginia. This marked the inception of the Tudor watch as the first official U.S. Navy SEAL watch.
Coronado Beckons: An Inside Look
Last month, a journey to San Diego offered an intimate glimpse into the world of the Navy SEALs and the historical narrative of their association with Tudor watches. The experience included firsthand accounts of BUD/S training, the arduous Hell Week, and the extraordinary physical and mental fortitude required of the mere 20% who succeed. We delved into the core values of the SEAL Teams, ran a mile on the very beaches where recruits train, and explored the 10,000-square-foot museum, opened just last year, which houses a repository of equipment utilized by decades of SEALs. The overarching sentiment conveyed was the adage: "The only easy day was yesterday."
The Navy SEAL Museum San Diego (NSMSD) meticulously traces the history of U.S. Naval Special Warfare from World War II to the present day, offering visitors a comprehensive experience. From virtual simulations of diving vehicles and hostage rescue scenarios to exhibits showcasing uniforms, rebreathers, and weaponry, guests gain a tangible understanding of the proud heritage and enduring legacy of the Navy SEALs.
A highlight of the event was a private panel discussion featuring two SEALs instrumental in the Apollo 11 Recovery Program. Moderated by New York Times bestselling author and former SEAL Jack Carr, the panel included John McLachlan and Robert "Bob" Rohrbach. Both men were featured in Tudor’s 2025 video, "Splashdown: The Unspoken Legacy of Naval Frogmen in Early Space Exploration." This reunion marked their first meeting since 1969. They graciously shared their experiences as SEALs and recounted their personal connections to their Tudor watches.
The Unceremonious Issuance: A New Guy Gets a Watch
A Tudor watch was an integral part of the standard kit issued to each new SEAL. Rohrbach, with a touch of dry humor, described the process: "It was a very involved ceremonial thing. You walk up to the supply officer, put your hand out, and he put a watch in it. That was it. There was no glory. It was… it was just another new guy gets a watch."
McLachlan concurred, recalling the anti-climactic nature of the issuance: "’Here’s the watch, here’s your life jacket, here’s your KA-BAR. See you around.’" Yet, there was an unspoken acknowledgment of the watch’s distinct significance compared to other equipment. In Navy parlance, "surveyed" refers to the official process of removing lost, damaged, or destroyed materials from inventory records.
Reflecting on his departure from active duty, Rohrbach recounted: "I had to turn the watch back in. So I went up to Supply and the supply officer looked at me and said, ‘Well, what are you doing?’" The officer instructed Rohrbach to meet him around the back of the building after a few minutes. Rohrbach continued, "The door’s open, and he’s holding a watch… he said, ‘It’s surveyed. It’s no longer useful, so you might as well keep it.’" While Rohrbach was adhering to protocol, the supply officer, perhaps recognizing the weight of nostalgia, demonstrated a degree of flexibility with official orders.
When asked about other pieces of gear that held sentimental value, Rohrbach noted, "We could keep our swim fins… and greens and uniforms. But the watch was the most special thing." McLachlan echoed this sentiment, stating unequivocally, "The watch was the special thing."
Watches and the Crucible of War
The intersection of timekeeping and warfare is a recurring theme in horological discourse. For this author, it was precisely this relationship that ignited a passion for watches. The remarkable fact that the chaos of battle was, throughout history, temporally organized by such a small and mechanically delicate instrument remains astonishing. A watch offers no physical protection and cannot inflict harm, yet it profoundly influences the outcome of a conflict. Beyond pure logistics, the watch becomes a potent symbol of mortality in combat: a talisman for those granted more time, and a somber omen for those with less.
Tudor watches, in their role as issued equipment, were akin to the artifacts preserved behind glass in the museum. They were tools engineered for a specific function, designed to perform so flawlessly that they would fade into the background, allowing the warrior to concentrate fully on the mission. However, discussions with the SEALs on the panel revealed a more complex reality. A duality existed: the watch was simultaneously a tool and something more. While designed for utility and the demands of the mission, the act of keeping an issued watch for decades after service, and passing it down to children and grandchildren, suggested that the watch was imbued with meaning by the mission itself.
McLachlan and Rohrbach wore their Tudors during the Apollo 11 splashdown recovery. Following this successful operation, the members of UDT 11 were flown to Chicago for a celebratory ticker-tape parade. Meanwhile, members of UDT 12 were preparing for deployment. McLachlan recalled, "The night of this ticker tape parade, I was taping up grenades and filling our magazines with ammunition to do our first stop in Vietnam the next day." While the nation celebrated a monumental achievement in innovation, the UDT/SEALs continued their fight. The conclusion of one mission invariably marked the commencement of another.
A Continuing Legacy
For nearly three decades, to be a Navy SEAL was to wear a Tudor watch. Following Boehm’s initial procurement of the Tudor Submariner on the open market, the watch became standardized for both SEALs and UDTs. A 1965 handbook authored by Lt. Thomas Dunne codified this relationship, stating: "The wristwatch used in the team is waterproof and pressure proof. It is used for computing duration of water operations, for computing bottom time and decompression stops, and for controlling rates of descent and ascent. The Diving Supervisor and a member of each swim pair must have a watch for any diving evolution." A Tudor Oyster Prince Submariner ref. 7928 is pictured adjacent to this text.
On an episode of Hodinkee’s "Talking Watches," Philip "Moki" Martin reflected on his SEAL graduation in 1965: "I was so proud to receive the big watch. I watched all the Frogmen and SEALs and they all had the big Tudors… The first day you graduate you get issued your – it’s called a water bag with all your clothes and everything – and then you get your watch. You get your Tudor."
Tudor watches continued to be regularly recorded in U.S. Navy supply system delivery logs through the 1970s and 1980s, with watches still being issued to newly graduated SEALs well into the 1990s.
Never Out of the Fight
Decades later, these watches continue to serve as tangible links to Rohrbach and McLachlan’s past service. McLachlan remarked, "It’s fun to check the time… it feels good to look at the watch and remember everything that’s gone before."
Rohrbach gifted his original Tudor to his son but was reunited with it shortly before the event at the museum. He recalled, "I put it on… and then I started to have these memories flooding my brain of all the fun times I had wearing this watch. It just felt so comfortable. It was like nothing had ever happened: I was back in my mid-twenties. Then I tripped and realized I’m not in my mid-twenties."
While McLachlan and Rohrbach’s watches continue their active service on a wrist, Moki Martin’s Tudor Submariner now resides at the Navy SEAL Museum in San Diego. Holding it, observing the nylon strap and the weathered compass, thoughts turned to Moki, John, Bob, and the thousands of men they represent, navigating the dense jungles of Vietnam. The imagination conjured images of their continuation into missions unknown to the nation, missions beyond comprehension or full appreciation. The bittersweet feeling of separating from service after experiences of such magnitude was palpable. Settling into new lives, cherishing time with family, and embracing the natural progression of age. And through it all, the watch was there.
Just another piece of gear. So much more. Tudor.
