Iraq: 2005-2006

Guard duty didn’t stick. By Christmas Eve 2003, the Guard found him a deployment. “Merry Christmas,” they told him. He wanted to go.

July 2005. Ramadi, Iraq. He and his Rhode Island-heavy unit were taking over for the Second Infantry Division—the same guys he’d trained with in Korea. It was surreal, like bookending a chapter.

Their first mission out: IED strike, three to four vehicles back. Day two in country.

“React as you train,” he says. “But I don’t think we trained well enough. These guys were construction engineers converted to combat engineers. They were brand new to looking for things.”

For thirteen months, it was constant. On average, they were losing somebody every three days or so. Marines, contractors, CIA. October 2005 was the worst. The casualty count kept climbing.

He saw combat engineers doing what they do: finding IEDs, clearing routes, improvising solutions with limited resources. By necessity, they became innovators. Makeshift armor on Humvees. Solutions that would later become military-standard equipment.

The Long Game: Fort Knox, Officer’s Route, and More

After Iraq, he came back to Camp Shelby in Mississippi. Then Fort Knox for two years as an Operational Warrior Trainer—teaching other National Guard units the lessons his team learned in Iraq. He was the guinea pig so others wouldn’t have to be.

In 2010, he made E7 and was offered OCS (Officer Candidate School). He took it, partly because he knew he could make it through, partly because he wanted someone else to get the E7 slot.

“OCS was the worst school I’ve ever been to,” he laughs. Low-crawling on concrete pads, getting “smoked” for torn uniforms, ROTC second lieutenants teaching him about weapons systems they’d never touched. But he got his commission.

As a Butter Bar (newly commissioned officer), he stayed in combat engineering but gained access to bigger projects. He wasn’t just clearing routes anymore—he was designing infrastructure. Building roads one day. During flooding in Nogales, Arizona, redoing riverbanks to prevent catastrophe.

And in 2018, after 17 years of active duty, he deployed to Jordan.

Jordan: Building, Not Just Fighting

Tower 22. A small base supporting Special Forces operations into Syria, humanitarian camps across the border, and intelligence work that most people never hear about.

His colonel called him the “figure it out guy.” They made him base mayor—responsible for logistics, coordination, keeping everything running smoothly across multiple agencies. CIA, FBI, embassy staff, Jordanian partners.

It was the first deployment where his engineering background became tangible. He could see the work on Google Maps.

The Mark That Matters: “Through coordination with other people, we were able to move the ammunition storage. The risk assessment showed that if something happened at the original location, it would have taken out the whole base. Where we moved it, we would have lost a couple guards and maybe $90,000 versus millions in damage and hundreds of lives.”

He could sleep knowing his decision—his work—might have prevented a catastrophe.

The Business: 2018-2026

While Matt was in Jordan (2018), Lindsay started something. Vinyl printing. Small operation, but it gave her purpose while he was deployed.

By 2020, they’d added DTF (Direct-to-Film) transfers to the mix. More capabilities. More possibilities. And about a year and a half ago, they launched stickers.

When Matt came back from Jordan, they decided to keep building. He could run the machines. She managed the creative side and the people. And they built Little 6 Industries into something real.

“It gives her something to do, and now she manages employees,” he says matter-of-factly. “We’re growing.”

The business wasn’t about getting rich. It was about doing something together. About building something real. About applying the same discipline and precision he’d learned in the military—quality over everything else.

Transition: March 27, 2026

After 25 years, he retired. Last day of duty: March 27, 2026. Seven days into civilian life when we’re talking about this.

He’s not sitting still. Working with veterans in need. Helping at the Maricopa pantry. Considering an e-bike (crashed it at 20 mph two weeks ago—still recovering). Trying to figure out what “retired” actually means.

The hardest part? Learning to do nothing.

His buddy Mike, a Navy veteran who works at the Maricopa church pantry, told him something that stuck: “If you don’t take time for yourself, life is going to make you take time for yourself. And you don’t necessarily want that.”

Matt understood this truth deeply. The podcast host had learned it the hard way—lost three firefighting jobs, went through COVID, had to sit with himself and realize it was time to decompress. Matt was confirming the same reality: sometimes life forces you to stop, and you don’t get to choose when or how.

The Health Reality

Three years ago, his A1C was perfect. January this year, it jumped to 11.4%. Tests came back: Type 1 diabetes, not Type 2. Also anemic. Then the VA did a pulmonary function test: 60% lung capacity.

“I went from zero to nothing really quick,” he says. Deployments to Iraq, Jordan, training centers, burn pits, toxins—it all adds up.

His advice to anyone still in: get your blood checked regularly. Document everything. Get on VA ratings as soon as possible. Don’t buy the old narrative that you’re taking away from someone else. The military has already invested in your medical future—you just need the paperwork to prove it.

He’s working with a VSO company to get his rating. The process is slow, but it’s real. And having that safety net—knowing he’s got disability support while building the business—changes everything.

On Leadership & Letting Go

After 25 years giving orders, Matt has learned something unexpected: sometimes “good enough” is actually good enough.

“We design in a way where we give intent and someone does the execution. Sometimes the execution might be just good enough,” he explains. “I had a warrant officer build a road. It wasn’t like I initially wanted. But when I said ‘You know what? I think it’s going to be good enough. I think it’s going to work’—totally changed his morale.”

That’s the leader he became. Not the guy who demands perfection. The guy who gives his people clear intent and lets them execute. The guy who recognizes when good enough is actually the right call.

The Lesson for Business: This is how you build a team. You set the direction. You trust the execution. You recognize that wrapping yourself up in the weeds isn’t leadership—it’s micromanagement. And people don’t want to work for someone who can’t let go.

On the Next Generation (and His Concerns)

Matt has kids. And he’s worried.

“I think America’s biggest disadvantage right now is from the Greatest Generation not talking about what they went through,” he says. WWII vets came home and said nothing. Korea vets said nothing. They wanted to protect their kids from the harsh reality.

The second and third order effects? Generations that never learned sacrifice. Never understood the real cost of freedom. Never grappled with the weight of hard choices.

“They only know America and all the benefits they have. They don’t know what it’s like to have your ruled by terrorists. They don’t see it. They don’t understand it,” he says.

His son complained about getting 2% milk instead of whole milk. Matt’s response: “You’re bougie.” After 130 degrees in Iraq and freezing in Korea, Phoenix’s 110 degrees shouldn’t feel cold.

He’s not saying kids should go to war. He’s saying they need something to jar them awake. Discipline. Challenge. The understanding that freedom costs something.

“There’s a lot of not knowing about family heritage, military values, service,” he says. “Air Force keeps most people out of trouble. But there’s something about Army combat arms—you learn purpose. You learn how to take care of each other. There’s discipline that gets put into it.”

He’s torn. He doesn’t want his kids in harm’s way. But he worries what happens if they’re never challenged at all.

What He’s Building Now

Little 6 Industries is service-disabled veteran-owned. That’s not a marketing angle for Matt—it’s a fact of his life. He gave pieces of himself. He came home. He decided to build something.

The business started with vinyl, added DTF transfers, and now offers custom stickers and more. It’s not glamorous. But it’s real. It’s built on the same precision he learned in the Army. Every product has his name on it in spirit. It has to be right.

And it’s giving him something he didn’t have in the military: the ability to see the finished product. To say, “I made that. I did that. I fixed that.”

That matters more than he expected it would.

Final Word

Matt’s advice for anyone—military or not:

If you’re still in: Get checked out. Document everything. Start your VA claim early. The culture is shifting toward valuing your health, but you have to take it seriously first.

If you’re getting out: Take time to decompress. You don’t want the world to force you to rest—trust me, it will. Find something that lets you see the work. Make something. Build something.

If you’re leading people: Give them intent. Let them execute. Recognize when good enough actually is good enough. Change their morale by believing in them.

If you’re raising kids: Teach them the cost of freedom. Not by preaching, but by showing them what real commitment looks like. What sacrifice looks like. What it means to do something bigger than yourself.

🇺🇸

25 years. From a nerd in Prescott, Arizona wanting the GI Bill, to a service-disabled veteran building a business. That’s the story.

WATCH THE FULL INTERVIEW:

Hurry Up and Wait Podcast – Matt Harvey Episode

Little 6 Industries. Service-Disabled Veteran-Owned. The brand behind the brand.