One of the first things that James Hatch learned after joining the elite ranks of the U.S. Navy SEALs was that, in this world, one can either be an asset or a liability.

A solider can either can bring something to the table, or they can take something away from it. They can either help carry their team across the finish line, or they be a weight that slows down their teammate’s pace.

Unfortunately, after suffering a gunshot wound to his leg in 2009, Hatch saw his 26-year career with the special operation forces unit evaporate in an instant. Following 18 reconstructive surgeries, Hatch’s life descended into a destructive vortex — fueled by pain killers, booze and years of suppressed trauma — that led him to alienate nearly every person in his life.

In short, he had become a liability: to his former comrades, his family and to himself.

In spite his best efforts, though, there were those who were still willing to cross the bridges that Hatch had spent so much energy trying to burn.

“What helped me [recover] was that complete strangers, buddies of mine and my family helped me to become an asset again,” Hatch said.

The veteran, who now runs a nonprofit that supports police dogs, shared his story of recovery during his talk inside the student activity center at Southwestern Michigan College Thursday night. The theater was packed with students and members of the community — including Dowagiac police officer Kevin Roman and his K-9 partner, Tole.

Hatch, a native of Utah, joined the Navy right out of high school and immediately joined the SEAL training program, in order to “find family,” he said. However, he initially dropped out of training due to the harsh requirements, and was assigned to serve on a ship to “develop character,” Hatch said.

Hatch later rejoined the SEALs training program and grinded his way through to become a part of the elite operations team.

During his career, Hatch carried out 150 combat missions in the Middle East, including in Iraq and Afghanistan, he said.

One of the hardest moments in Hatch’s career came in 2006. During an operation in Iraq, Hatch and his K-9 partner, Spike, were confronted by an insurgent fighter. The SEAL ordered his dog to attack the fighter, though the man got the upper hand in the encounter, prompting Hatch to fire at the man.

Unfortunately, one of the bullets passed through the enemy and into Spike, killing the canine.

“Dogs do not understand bullets,” Hatch said. “We bring them into our crazy wars, our crazy human problems. It is our job to protect them, and I had clearly failed at that.”

However, like he had done with other traumatic incidents on the battlefield, Hatch stowed away his grief into his “backpack” and kept on working, he said.

In July 2009, the SEAL participated in an operation in to save Army Sgt. Bowe Bergdahl, who was captured by Taliban forces after deserting from his post. During the encounter, Hatch had to watch another K-9, named Remco, die before his eyes, after the dog was shot while giving away the position of the enemy.

Hatch was taken out of commission seconds later, when a panicked Taliban fighter shot off several rounds from his rifle, one of which pierced its way into the SEAL’s leg. He would have likely bled out and died on the battlefield were it not for the help of two of his teammates — who he had nicknamed “The Mechanic” and “The Fly Fisherman” — who treated the man’s injuries in middle of the firefight.

“At the point I was shot, I was worse than useless — I was a hazard,” Hatch said. “In the middle of a gunfight, if you start screaming, all a bad guy has to do is aim in your direction and pull the trigger. It was really hard for me to forgive myself for that.”

Hatch spent the next two years in and out of surgeries to repair his damaged leg. In the process of rehabilitation, he became addicted to pain killers, which he began washing down with vodka.

His drug abuse led him down a very dark path of sadness and anger, made worse by all the trauma he had suppressed in his backpack, which had finally been ripped open by the loss of his career in the military.

“I was this action guy, and now I am no longer capable of doing any of that,” Hatch said he remembered thinking at the time. “I do not feel like I could offer anything to the world anymore. What good am I? I was a waste of oxygen. I was stealing oxygen from somebody else who deserves it.”

His depression culminated in him sticking a gun in his mouth and attempting suicide. After his wife called to police, he intended to try and provoke the authorities to shoot him instead. To his surprise, however, the officers who responded to the call calmed him down.

After spending several months receiving psychiatric care and treatment for his addiction, Hatch was finally able to begin getting his life straightened out. After attempting several different jobs — including a brief stint working for an Apple retail store, where he was fired for “not being talkative enough” — Hatch approached the leadership of the police department responsible for saving his life and asked if they needed any help training their K-9s.

The department heads hired the veteran on, who did everything from serve as decoy in a bite suit to helping tame some of the wilder dogs, he said.

One day, one of the officers told him that his K-9 was in need of a lifesaving surgery that the city leadership said they could not afford. Hatch, seeing the sorrow in the officer’s eyes, decided to step in and help. He began printing sweatshirts with a silhouette of him and Spike, based off a photo of the two taken shortly before the dog’s death, and sold them in order to help raise money for the operation.

To Hatch’s surprise, sales of the sweatshirts took off, with people from all over the country ordering them.

Based on the reaction of the fundraiser, Hatch decided to found Spike’s K-9 Fund, a group that helps purchase bulletproof vests for police dogs, as well as kicks in for medical operations and to buy wheelchairs for injured K-9s. The organization has helped 379 dogs so far — Hatch wanted to make Tole K-9 380, announcing that he was donating his speaking fees to purchase the German Shepard a bulletproof vest of his own.