In May 1989, Proceedings published my letter in its Comment & Discussion section ("Bulldog Ductus Exemplo—The Platoon Commander," pp. 28-29). I was a midshipman first class at the U.S. Naval Academy, and the letter was an assignment for a technical writing class (figured I ought to learn how to write properly prior to being commissioned). I was told that to get published I should choose a controversial topic, and mine was why mids had been doing poorly at The Basic School. The problem, I contended, was motivation—midshipmen who could not enter their first-choice communities were choosing to go Marine Corps to avoid being surface warfare officers (SWOs), because the image of a SWO at the academy back then was, to quote my original letter, of "fat, lazy coffee drinkers who lead a life that keeps them at sea and away from their family and friends." Well, I guess that was controversial enough because my letter made it into print.
But that was just the beginning of the controversy for me.
When that issue of Proceedings reached the brass at the U.S. Naval Academy, it really hit the fan. I was not a troublemaker back then, and I never imagined that anything bad could come of a class assignment, but it did. I got a call to go see the company officer, a lieutenant:
Lieutenant: "What in the hell were you thinking when you wrote this?" he asked as he pointed to my published letter. "Why didn't you run this past me?"
Me: "Sir, it was a class assignment. I wasn't aware that I was supposed to run it past you."
The lieutenant obviously was quite displeased. "The battalion officer wants to see you—NOW!" he barked.
So I exited his office a little shell-shocked to go see the battalion officer, who was a commander:
Commander: "What in the hell were you thinking when you wrote this?!"
That question was becoming familiar. I thought it was obvious what I was thinking because I had put it all down in the letter. I tried to explain that this was just a class assignment, but I knew my explanation was not carrying much clout. I think he also knew that I didn't have a clue why this was such a big deal, so he let out a breath of frustration and said, "The deputy commandant wants to see you—NOW!"
So I exited again and started the trek to the deputy dam's office, filled with all sorts of worries about what was going to happen to me. If memory serves me, the deputy dant was the number three guy at the academy. I forget his name, but I know he was a captain. I was ushered to the entrance to his office, where he was seated behind his desk.
Deputy: "Come here and take a seat!" (By the tone of his voice, I could tell this was not going to be pleasant.) "What in the hell were you thinking when you wrote this?!?" he demanded as he poked his finger at my letter.
Ah, the popular refrain. I took a breath in preparation and began to answer, but he was not finished; this was to be a monologue.
Deputy: "What if I said that Midshipman First Class Allen was a piece of @#*!?"
"I'm a goner," I thought to myself as I watched in horror as this grown man flew into a rage. It was like watching a newly caged wild animal; I think he wanted to belt me and/or "fry" me with some sort of punishment or mucho demerits, but the circumstances allowed him only to chew me out. I took note of a few things during his tirade.
First, he was a SWO.
Second, he was a bit on the big side.
Third, on his desk there sat a humongous mug of coffee. Didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that he took a certain section of my letter personally.
Well, once there was nothing left of my hindquarters, he ordered me to leave. That was the last I heard about my letter until a couple of weeks after I graduated. I ran into my professor for that writing class in town, and he asked if "they" ever got hold of me. I thought he meant the USNA brass, but he went on to say that some admiral had read my letter and wanted to meet with me. Apparently, that admiral liked what I said quite a bit. I do not know for sure if this was the case, since I never got the message, but I imagine that such a meeting never would have been allowed to occur.
If this whole thing had happened now, things might have turned out differently. It is a "kinder, gentler" Navy. And the image of SWOs also took a turn for the better in the years following my letter, although I do not claim I had anything to do with it. Being a SWO seemed to become "cool." I bet mids today do not view them in the same light that we did when I was at the academy.
Nevertheless, I waited to do the follow-up to my 1989 letter until I got out of the Navy (I exited in June 1998). My fear of the possible consequences may have been unwarranted, but I never wanted my name associated with that letter while I was in. I harbor no grudge about what happened after the publication of my letter. I consider it to be a very humorous experience—and a helluva story at parties.
Mr. Allen graduated from the U.S. Naval Academy in 1989 with a degree in physics. He was commissioned into the Supply Corps, where he served in a variety of assignments until his departure from active duty in 1998. Since then he has been engaged as an investor in the stock market.