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There is a human side to “rightsizing,” and until the Navy improves the Selective Early Retirement process, you’d better watch your six o’clock.
“As you know, our Navy continues to get smaller, and some additional retirements are necessary to meet our required personnel reductions. . .”
The Dream: You are strolling merrily down a quiet country road on a beautiful sunny day. You have a great job that few people can do. You have just been promoted and are looking forward to the increased responsibility that accompanies your new assignment. You are on top of the world.
Suddenly—without warning—an armed, hulking figure appears.
Before you can react, he swings his weapon across your midsection.
You drop to the ground, gasping for breath. Your first thought is not of pain but of disbelief:
This can’t be happening to you. Although you have heard of such attacks happening to others, you are not prepared to be the victim. The shock deepens, and you lose consciousness.
When you awake, it is dark, cold, and rainy. With difficulty, you manage to stand. The pain remains, yet there is no blood or visible injury. You are disoriented. You have difficulty focusing.
Your family and friends seem to know that you are in trouble. They call for you, but you are unable to answer.
You feel abandoned and completely
alone. For some inexplicable reason, you fear that your life has been unalterably changed.
. .regrettably, you are among those selected. . .”
The Reality: Your boss tells you that he needs to see you. You are days away from an at-sea training period to support a major national contingency. You are the operations officer for a carrier battle group staff. Only six months before, you graduated from the year-long Masters-level course at the Naval War College with distinction. You have been selected to command a major naval air station—a master jet base. The Bureau moved you to Norfolk for a nine-month interim tour because they needed a “quality cut.” The additional move is a little inconvenient for the family but is a small price to pay for the experience and the follow-on orders. Besides, you’ll be working for a man you know, trust, and admire.
You thought that you had the tough job on the staff, but today it’s the boss’s turn. As he closes the door, you notice that his usual ready smile is absent. Something is not right.
“I just got off he phone with the Bureau. You’re not going to believe this
He doesn’t to say any more, and although he tries to explain what he has just been told, you don’t hear him. He reluctantly hands you a necessarily impersonal form letter from Washington—complete with rubber-stamp signature. You are the
hosen for Selective Early Retirement (SER).
After 24 years, 8 extended overseas deployments, 5,000 hours in tactical jets, 1,000 carrier landings, 2 command tours, and 2 postcommand sea-duty tours, it has come to this.
The Navy has told you that your » services are no longer needed.
39
Proceedings / June 1994
While you feel betrayed, you are
as much humiliated at the prospect as you are concerned for your future. You have just sent your two college kids back to school after a great family Christmas vacation. It’s the first week in January.
“Public law requires your retirement not later than 1 August.”
You have less than seven months to live. Happy New Year.
The Background: In August 1993, the Chief of Naval Operations released a message that detailed the Selective Early Retirement process for fiscal year 1994. The message solicited voluntary early retirements with a goal of reducing the total number of officers required for Selective Early Retirement. The retirement window for eligible officers was expanded to 1 September 1995. In other words, an eligible officer could effectively remove himself or herself from the threat of involuntary retirement— and thereby be guaranteed two additional years of service—by simply writing a letter to the Bureau. Acceptance of these letters was, presumably, without regard to individual performance. The eligibility window for captains began at two years’ service in grade.
As one would imagine, the CNO’s message caused a great stir in the senior officer community, and everyone tried to second-guess how the process would play out. The previous year, some high rollers had been SERB’d—much to the surprise and chagrin of the officers concerned, as well as to their acquaintances. The story on the street was this: So many officers recognized that they were no longer upwardly mobile and elected to put in their two-year letters that the Navy had no choice but to cut from the bone. The results seemed grossly unfair to those selected, but the goals were attained.
So what to do this year? Every officer, of course, had to analyze the options and decide personally what action to take. Some understandably would protect themselves by submitting their letters and begin planning for a new career down the road. Others would weigh the risks of involuntary retirement and elect to let the cards fall where they may. My logic was simple: The Navy had just put me through graduate school. I was assigned to a flag-level, sea-going staff. I had screened for a major shore command only months before. In addition, I was a “young” captain, only two months inside the window for eligibility. But most important, I loved the Navy and the military lifestyle. I convinced myself that I would be safe.
While I harbored no pretensions about becoming the CNO, I felt that my record supported my analysis. Nevertheless, just to ease my mind, I called two of my old commanding officers—each of whom had recently retired—and both gave me the advice I wanted to hear: “You’d be crazy to give up a major command.” I decided to take my chances. I took what I thought then and believe today was an intelligent, calculated risk.
I lost.
“Unquestionably, this is a difficult letter to receive after years of dedicated service. . . .It is also a distressing letter to write.”
The Lessons: I solicit neither sympathy nor aid. My ex-fet perience, however, can serve to inform and advise those [W who will be eligible in the years to come. If you havegjjg more than 15 years of service, you must have a back-up B plan to a naval career—be prepared. Never assume thatB you are untouchable, because you are not. Those in a po- BH sition to change the process need to improve the system. Ky The Navy can do better with SER. Any plan that allowsf^B those who did not make the cut to stay in and fires those ! who did has to be seriously flawed. Where is the TotalL Quality Leadership in this process? I hope that the lead- ership of the Navy will strive to correct the problem and not be satisfied with the status quo. Current legislation should not be allowed to stand in the way of fairness t<
and justice. In addition, the Navy should also allow those ii
selected for early retirement one year, rather than six or f(
seven months, to start a new career. ^
Commanding officers should know that when an individual is SERB’d, he or she is effectively lost—without relief. He may try to be a good soldier, but his loyalties and priorities will quickly (and understandably) shift from , current job to family and self as he scrambles about trying to put his life in order before the deadline of mandatory retirement. Your organization will experience a “ degradation of morale. Lieutenants aren’t stupid. Some will ask, “Is this what I have to look forward to?” Be ready £ to provide some honest, straightforward counseling, because your entire unit will be affected in varying degrees, t
I can’t be bitter about what has happened. I’m proud of a great career, grateful for the education that I have re- 1 ceived at government expense, and happy for the many experiences unheard of in civilian life. It’s painful, how- ( ever, to be promised a command—only to have it taken I | away through no fault of your own. It’s sad to be in the prime of your life, willing and able to serve your nation—- only to be told, “No thanks.” It hurts not only to lose your i job but also to be stripped of your profession—especially in such an ignominious fashion.
Ultimately, however, I blame myself. Not because I didn’t give the Navy everything I had. I did. Not because I guessed wrong about the board. I would make the same decision today given identical circumstances. I blame myself because so many of us in all the branches of service and throughout the defense industry labored hard and sacrificed much for many years.
The Cold War is at an end, and a new world order may some day emerge in its place. The economy now comes first, and like so many others whose job it has been to protect and defend the United States, I literally worked my way out of a job. For us, “rightsizing” is still “downsizing.”
Inevitably, and ironically, the reward for our success is unemployment.
. .as you draw to the close of your distinguished career in our Navy, you take with you the appreciation of countless people, including all of us with whom you have served.”
Captain Waddell is a 1970 graduate of the U.S. Naval Academy and a career naval aviator. He was a test pilot with VA-72 and VFA-106 and was combat information officer on the USS Dwight D. Eisenhower (CVN-69) during Operation Desert Shield. He will retire on 1 August.
Proceedings / June 1994