Three naval officers assigned to the attack submarine USS Atlanta (SSN-712) respond to the recent Proceedings article. “Keeping the Generation X Junior Officer,” which contends that junior officers will continue to leave the submarine service until they are offered a sense of purpose, real responsibility, and a chance to lead.1
A Junior Officer
The author is right, with few exceptions, as far as he goes. But he stops his analysis at the crucial point. Junior officers are leaving the submarine force not because of what they have to put up with but because of what is lacking. A sense of purpose, duty, and station—and the authority commensurate with that station—are essential to developing a sense of, and a commitment to, one’s vocation. When officers leave the force, these elements are sorely lacking, if not missing altogether.
Lieutenant Goetsch provides a substantial and essentially accurate list of what is hard about working in a submarine: separation from friends, family, home, and society; rigorous deployments; tiring in-port maintenance routines; overwhelming administrative duties; and monumental responsibility. But in the end, this list remains a mere cataloging of difficulties. We have it no harder than many who have served before us. World War II presented many officers with incredible challenges, and many officers overcame them with even more impressive valor.
So what are we lacking that in times past made officers willing to put up with all the hardships of submarine life, to think more of duty than of comfort? It is more than a trite patriotism or desire to serve one’s country. It is a sense of professional tradition, pride, and duty, and an awareness of one’s station within that profession—the feeling that no matter where you are in the chain of command, you are making a contribution. And this contribution, again, is more than enhancing the national security of the United States, for surviving the rigors of daily service is less about maintaining the big picture and more about a way of life.
The professional ethos largely has been lost. Our willingness to put up with the negatives of submarine and military life is a function of how dedicated we are to the job—and how much pride we take in being part of the professional tradition. Loss of this tradition is not specific to the submarine force, nor to the Navy, but to the military in general. And it has occurred, at least in part, because of the wholesale destruction of fraternity and authority and their replacement with bogus equality and management.
What makes an officer feel pride of vocation is his awareness of his place within the small society in which he works. When all are equal—or treated as such—there is no sense of place or distinction of duties. “The most insidious idea employed to break down society is an undefined equalitarianism,” says Richard Weaver in his commentary on modern America, Ideas Have Consequences.2 For a society is composed of various groups and persons working together in a atmosphere of brotherhood, all fulfilling various roles. This is nowhere more true than on board a ship. Fraternity is the organizing spirit of a successful wardroom and crew; equality, Weaver explains, is a disorganizing concept.
The ancient feeling of brotherhood carries obligations of which equality knows nothing. It calls for respect and protection, for brotherhood is status in family, and family is by nature hierarchical. . . .
The frame of duty which fraternity erects is itself the source of ideal conduct. Where men feel that society means station, the highest and the lowest see their endeavors contributing to a common end, and they are in harmony rather than in competition.3
The ideal, then, is that all on board know that they work toward a common end, in a particular position, respecting the limits and fulfilling the duties of their stations.
Present reality falls far short of this ideal, however. Little emphasis is placed on one’s status as an officer, such that basic military courtesy often is rendered with resentment—or not at all—to anyone junior to the executive officer and commanding officer. A junior officer’s status as third or fourth in the chain of command of a nuclear-powered attack submarine is lost amid notions that lack of experience and little at-sea time make him unworthy of privileges that all officers should be afforded. Even fellow officers of the wardroom, preferring to deal with senior enlisted personnel, at times unwittingly leave the junior officers out of operational and administrative issues that not only should concern them but also should be their responsibility.
Navy-wide, the emphasis is less on authority, discipline, and respect than on managerial-style leadership and equal opportunity. Whatever the importance of these things, they do little to inspire. The result is that junior officers feel they possesses very little authority and, in addition, are held responsible for very little. This makes it nearly impossible to feel a part of the ship’s society. After a while, it becomes difficult to answer the question, Why should I continue to do this?
Resentment of the privileges afforded those of a higher class is part and parcel of our emphasis on equality. No one looks on the rendering of a salute—when executed smartly and with pride—as a gesture as inspiring to give as to receive. But we must look on it that way. Pride in the service, its organization, its order, and its hierarchy, are essential to a sense of belonging. And only this pride is a satisfactory answer to the question that arrays the sacrifices of service against the comforts of home. As Lieutenant Goetsch points out, more money and easier shore tours will not solve the problem. Only the resurrection of something of the mystique of the warrior class, and of positions of rank and distinction therein, will make the life of a sub
An Executive Officer
With 12 years in the submarine force, I am annoyed that my continuing commitment to this profession is attributed to enslavement by the “almighty dollar” to a job where I “do not get to make real decisions, get real responsibility, and get paid to think.”
Lieutenant Goetsch believes our differences stem from our belonging to different generations, with totally different perspectives. I am a baby boomer; I was born after V-J Day and before President John F. Kennedy was assassinated. My first commanding officer, executive officer, and department head also were baby boomers. What I haven’t figured out—since we are all of the same generation—is why each of us had such a different perspective. For example, I clearly recall that my commanding officer, 16 years my senior, had a significantly different view of the world and of the Navy from mine.
Thanks to Lieutenant Goetsch, 1 now know what it means to be a member of Generation X.
I’m not impressed.
If Generation X is so different from the baby boomers, why are his complaints identical to those of my peers who left the Navy and submarine force at the end of their first tours, more than seven years ago? I even uttered a few of those complaints myself.
Within the next year, members of the post-X generation will be reporting to their first submarines. I will watch carefully for the difference between them and the two X-ers who reported on board my boat this month. I don’t expect to have anything new to report.
So let’s disabuse ourselves of the absurd notion that post-Camelot junior officers require special handling. Let’s not get fooled into applying pop culture psychobabble as a “leadership tool” to motivate. What keeps a submarine officer in or drives him out is no different today from what it was seven years ago when I shipped over. The reasons a young man should join the submarine force and the reasons he should stay beyond his initial commitment are the same as they always have been.
Don’t do it for the money; it’s not worth it. I would gladly give up the $17,000 per year in extra pay for being a submariner (Mr. Goetsch incorrectly reported the submarine premium as $10,000 per year) if I could be at home with my wife and two children for every birthday, anniversary, holiday, and sunny afternoon. The money is good, but I cannot imagine that any one of us endures the time away from home for a one-size-larger house or a high-dollar sports car.
Don’t do it for the fun and adventure; it’s still not worth it. Sure I have enjoyed going toe-to-toe with the bad guys and winning every time. As a typical submariner, I have seen and done things that those not so privileged couldn’t begin to imagine. It doesn’t bother me that I’m not allowed to tell, because no one but a fellow submariner would believe me anyway. But my watch ends, and I turn things over to another officer. I write my share of the mission report and try to make a dent in my ever present mountain of paperwork. Then I climb into my coffin-sized rack and try to sleep. It is always brief and rarely restful because I wonder what my kids are doing. Do they miss me? Do they even remember me? My wife has proved too often that she can get by, even thrive, without me; will she want it to stay that way, or will I be welcomed home? Nothing is as exciting as tactically employing a fast attack submarine, but I could do with a little less excitement and a little more Ozzie- and-Harriet-style home life.
So why do I stay? The security of the United States—and therefore the stability of the world—depends on our having the most capable and flexible submarine force the U.S. economy can afford. Our submarine force can accomplish any of its many missions in any ocean of the world at any time and in any political climate. We are the only platform in the U.S. military inventory that can make that claim. We can get where we need to be faster than any other ship and stay there indefinitely. We do antisubmarine, antisurface, and strike warfare, surveillance, mining, and even support for special forces—and we do them better than anyone else in the world.
During any crisis, contingency, war, peacekeeping operation, or police action, a U.S. submarine undoubtedly is in the thick of things. Had the Cold War turned hot, our submarines would have been integral and indispensable to victory. I haven’t the slightest idea of what the next war will be like, but it seems self-evident that a platform as capable as our submarines will be a decisive factor.
To operate such a submarine force, we need educated, smart, motivated, and dedicated young men with exceptional leadership skills. After his first tour, a submarine junior officer is even better educated, a solver of complex problems, able to withstand unlimited stress, hard working, focused, a skilled leader and manager, and a whiz at paperwork. If he looks to the civilian world, he will find that he can choose any profession or educational curriculum that suits his fancy. We could get better retention numbers if we made our junior officers less marketable on the outside—teach them less, give them fewer responsibilities, and lower our standards of performance—but if we want the best submarine force in the world, we must continue to mold our junior officers into the best-thinking, hardest-working young men in the world. Without those kind of young men, we will not have a submarine force, and U.S. security will suffer noticeably, probably irrevocably.
Lieutenant Goetsch left the submarine force for want of “a real purpose, a true calling.” I hope he finds it in his new profession of investment banking (where the dollars are even mightier). I was called to be a submariner, a lifelong purpose that is shared by my family.
A Commanding Officer
“Far too many good officers have lost the excitement of driving a ship, the joy of leadership, and the sense of fraternity that previously marked being an officer.”4
This simple statement reflects a troubling, institutional reality within our officer corps and summarizes the principal elements of Lieutenant Goetsch’s article.
Ship driving. As a junior officer, I lived to drive my ship. I suffered the in-port duty, tolerated the endless qualification and training, and learned to accommodate my duties as a division officer. But it was putting that submarine where I wanted it when I wanted that provided the passion. Underways, landings, missions, services, whatever—just let me drive.
It comes as no surprise that my junior officers today feel very much the same. To nicely place this billion dollar boat and her crew in a 4.0 firing position, to effect a landing better than your last, to drive at the edge of the envelope, to measure yourself against something that big is indescribable. It generates passion. It is the best of our business.
But that passion can become subsumed by the bilges, the inspections, the mundane, and the maddening. The list of detractors is long. My challenge, as commanding officer, is to teach my guys to succeed, to enjoy that same sense of reward, in a manner that allows for a fair share of mistakes while maintaining a full measure of ship safety. It is no small task, and it is made more difficult by the near-zero-defect world in which we submariners live. This is an issue for those in command, one that deserves serious introspection.
A lost desire to lead. Perhaps we have lost the ability to exercise power—the direct, shove-it-down-your-throat application. To put a more gentlemanly shine on the issue, I am concerned about our officers’ ability to hold subordinates accountable. Far too often I find my guys incapable of getting things done because, simply put, their people don’t or won’t do them. Too often I hear “I’ll counsel him this,” or “I’ll make sure I personally monitor that.” So much baloney. Identify the need, discuss the alternatives with both subordinate and senior, decide on a course of action, and make it happen. When it doesn’t, permission granted to have the offender braced up outside your stateroom sounding off every 15 minutes until the task is complete. And if that doesn’t get you from A to B, write him up and let me adjudicate at captain’s mast. Perhaps this is a bit severe, even a view long since abandoned to an unenlightened and ancient history, but the point remains. There needs be an accounting, a reckoning. We need men who lead without apology.
A word on Lieutenant Goetsch’s consternation on “leadership by checklist”: Doing your job requires doing what is required; if you don't know what is required, chances are fair you are not doing your job. Ensuring compliance with the thousand or so requirements extant, whether by list or rote memory, should be as routine as putting on the uniform every day. To think that understanding and complying with the “you shalls” and “you wills” is somehow beneath us is simply abdicating a clear responsibility.
Still it remains leadership, not lists, that provides the élan required to ensure that your men are better than the rest at what they do, that they take pride in it, and that they are professionally embarrassed to think it might be any other way. It is the man inside the uniform who leads.
Fraternity. This is an area made difficult by my own short tenure and limited experience. Nonetheless, I understand the sentiment. Most, myself included, come into the business expecting more camaraderie than is in fact the case. I have yet to serve on board a ship where I truly felt the wardroom was in and of itself a very special, very exclusive club. I would like to feel that. So would my officers. I think this sense would strengthen the institution. Again, however, the notion runs contrary to the egalitarian state that we Americans plunge head over tea kettle to attain.
There must exist tools and methods that allow and foster such an environment. Firewalls between officer and crew, special privileges, shared purpose and vision—things I am unable to articulate or even envision—have to provide answers. For my part, I believe that simply bringing passion to the work will get me well down the road toward presiding over a true band of brothers.
Through Lieutenant Goetsch, we who call this business our profession are forced to reexamine what it is we are all about. What does it mean to be a naval officer? What image does the term evoke? What is the ideal; what is the reality?
Junior officers are desperate to understand, desperate I believe to be imbued with a sense of something grander. They long for the inspired senior, for a notion and sense clearly articulated and constantly realized. Our nation deserves—indeed demands—a clan of warrior elites, leading their men in a clear and just fashion, none better in the exercise of the war-fighting instrument. We are very good, and if we choose to listen, think, and act rather than dismiss those like Lieutenant Goetsch, we are certain to get better.
1 Lieutenant Hal Goetsch, "Keeping the Generation X Junior Officer." U.S. Naval Institute Proceedings. October 1995, pp. 66-69.
2 Richard Weaver, Ideas Have Consequences (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1948), p. 41.
3 Ibid„ p. 40.
4 Lieutenant Joseph M. Thompson, USN, “Why are we still Grounding?" unpublished paper.
Commander Peppe, commanding officer of the Atlanta (SSN-712), has served in five different submarines. Lieutenant Commander Ratliff has served in four different submarines and as a member of a battle group staff and is executive officer of the Atlanta. Lieutenant Sharpe has been on board the Atlanta for one year.