The True Story of Baz Porter

From Soldier to Success Architect

I fought wars the world could see.
Then I fought wars nobody could.

I survived bullets in foreign lands.
I drowned silently back home.

I remember the day it caught up to me.

Ralfcourt Gardens.
Knee-deep in a drained pond.
Mud clawing at my boots.
My hands raw from pulling dead roots.
The water emptied beneath me, and something inside emptied too.

I stood there, filthy, victorious over a task finished.
And for the first time in my life, I realized winning could feel exactly like losing.

Some men fight wars on battlefields.
I fought those.
Then I fought the wars nobody talks about.
The ones you carry home.
The ones that follow you into boardrooms and bedrooms.
The ones that make survival feel like a curse instead of a victory.

I served during a time when leadership was measured by whether the people next to you made it home alive.
I led through fire.
Through nights when survival was not a guarantee but a brutal act of will.
In those days, leadership was simple.
You move forward or you die.
You make the decision no one else can.
You stand when every part…