The cooks had been in rare form that day and the steaks were done to perfection. Topping off that fine Sunday dinner were double rations of strawberry shortcake. “Shipping over chow,” the crew called it.
In the early afternoon the radiomen tuned in the Navy Band on the ship’s RBO receiver. The sounds of stirring martial music came forth from the bulkhead speakers. “Shipping over music,” the well-fed, contented sailors termed it.
The ship was anchored out too far for liberty. It was a time and place for conversation. The crewmen gathered at their customary “hang out” places—the senior men taking the favored seats. And with their greater experience these senior petty officers and chief petty officers carried the most weight in the numerous discussions. But the third factor in this triad was missing. There was no “shipping over talk.”
Between reveille and taps on that restful day a thousand subjects were discussed. However, not one of them had this theme: “There’s a lot to be said for making a career of this Navy. . . . You men ought to give it some serious thought before the end of your enlistment.”
* * *
What is shipping over talk? It is talk made by one person—usually a career petty officer, chief petty officer, or junior officer—to one or more men on their first enlistment. In this talk an attempt is made to get them to consider signing up for another enlistment. Shipping over talk has three valuable features. These are inexpensiveness, selectivity, and effectiveness.
The first feature is easily demonstrated by the old adage that “talk is cheap” in its non-cynical meaning. All that it requires on the part of the person making it is a little time, some knowledge of his subject, and a certain degree of eagerness to present the Navy as a pretty good way of life. The second person need present only an alert ear and an open mind, two items which are not always easy for the talker to find.
Selectivity results from the fact that the person making the talk first selects and then concentrates on the men he considers to be good naval careerist material. The men he does not consider as valuable to the Navy are simply disregarded in this respect.
The third feature, effectiveness, lies largely in the fact that the man-to-man approach is still the most persuasive way of presenting a subject. In addition, the man being talked to usually finds this an opportunity to air his gripes to someone other than his compartment mates. Having expressed them, he will usually be in a better mood to listen to what the other person has to say.
Inexpensiveness, selectivity, and effectiveness should give merit to almost any suggestion. Of course, an active program of making shipping over talk is not something to be accomplished by issuing a few directives. To take hold, it must be made by a lot of people —and often. It is a purpose of this paper not only to discuss shipping over talk, but to help, in a small way, to step up the rate at which it is now being made.
As indicated above, the making of shipping over talk is not totally a thing of the past. It is, however, practiced to such a small degree that it has very slight effect on men on their first enlistment, taken as a group. The degree with which it is now being practiced appears to be much lower, for example, than in the years immediately prior to World War II. This is not guesswork on my part. I know from experience that “going for a second cruise” was talked up quite often in pre-war years. On the other hand, talks with several career POs, CPOs, and a few junior officers have shown me the small amount of such talk being made today. The few who have broached the subject say the reply usually begins in this fashion: “Not a chance, Boats. . . . Are you kidding me? ... All I want is out, Chief.” The typical reaction to an opening statement is, “What! Me ship over!” Actually what these expressions indicate is not so much the man’s opinion as his first reaction to an approach about the possibility of reenlisting. He seems to be taken by surprise.
Going to the other side of the same coin has borne out the above line of thought. Talks with what I feel to be a fairly representative group of young men nearing the end of their first enlistment reveal that in most cases no one had ever broached the subject of signing shipping articles a second time.
When the subject of the present low initial reenlistment rate is under discussion, expressions such as these are often heard: “Give us a good depression and that’ll keep them in. . . . When they ease up on the pace of fleet operations. . . . When those guys go out and start looking for a job. ...”
Fulfillment of events such as these will no doubt have a favorable influence on the number of first reenlistments. However, neither by word nor action is any careerist PO, CPO, or junior officer going to bring about even the slightest change in such things as economic depressions and pace of fleet operations. Shipping over talk, on the other hand, can have ten thousand vigorous champions among these POs, CPOs, and officers.
At the time of this writing less than five per cent of those ending their first enlistment are signing up for a second. Various administrative incentives to step up this rate have been proposed. Some are being carried out now; others stand fair to good chances of being carried out within the year.
Among the more prominent are these: a higher bonus for the first and second reenlistments, an extension of certain Veterans’ benefits to protect the careerist, a slow-down in the hacking away of the “fringe benefits,” a more equitable sea/shore rotation program, and a general increase in pay. It is this writer’s belief that apart from the pay increase not one of the above incentives would have as much effect as a vigorously carried out program of shipping over talk. This brings us back to the third feature of shipping over talk, its effectiveness. A further explanation of reenlistment talk will help point out that effectiveness.
Actually, shipping over talk has about as much form—and as many variations—as a schoolboy’s plan of the day during summer vacation. No doubt many readers have wondered about the omission of “the” before “shipping over talk.” The reason lies in the many forms shipping over talk takes. It ranges from organized speeches down to almost completely unorganized chit-chat. In the former, incidentally, there are forms which might properly be listed under “the shipping over talk.”
Proceeding from the formal reenlistment talk on down to shipping over chit-chat, five levels are met. Each can be effective at its own level. And two or more of different levels hitting a potential reenlistee at different times will have the advantage of a joint assault.
At the top is the formal type. This is a speech made by division officers or personnel officers of larger ships or shore units—or executive officers of smaller units. Usually made before groups of men, these talks follow written notes and have a beginning, a main body, and a conclusion. On the whole these are, and will continue to be, the least numerous type of shipping over talk.
Second is the man-to-man talk made by any of the above mentioned—when “going after” a particularly valuable man. Or it might be made by the man’s division CPO or leading PO. The third level is the man-to-group talk made by the division CPO or PO to his assembled men.
The fourth is much more formal. Usually it takes place in a discussion. Probably the greatest amount of shipping over talk is made at this level. Here we find the careerist PO or “leading hand” explaining to his men the advantages of a naval career. He might be the watch section leader in the engine room, on the signal bridge, or at the duty lifeboat crew’s station; or he might be the top man in the galley, ship’s office, shipfitter shop, torpedo shack, or sick bay. In most cases this talk is simply the man’s leisurely discourse on his own reasons for staying on in the Navy—with questions and comments by his listeners. Be that as it may, the subject of reenlistment is under active discussion.
The fifth level, the chit-chat level, might very possibly be the most influential. In this, one first-cruise sailor tells his compartment mate and fellow first-cruise sailor of his decision to reenlist. A comparison might be made here with the methods and goals of those in the advertising business. When advertisers get one housewife to tell another housewife about a certain brand of coffee, they’ve reached their zenith, so I’m told. It seems no form of advertising is more effective than the person-to-person type. But here we are back to where we started. The problem is one of belling the cat—of influencing the first sailor to ship over.
The subjects to be discussed and the approaches to be used in the first three levels could form a long and varied muster. I’d like to elaborate on this point by describing a third-level talk of my own.
It was in the early spring of 1954 that the possibility of reenlistment talk as an essay topic first occurred to me. Standing before the 28 men of my shipboard division—and taking advantage of the lapse between “reports to the division officer” and his return from “reports to the exec”—I, like most other division chiefs, would talk about various subjects. Since the announced plan of each of the 28 men was not to reenlist, I tried to get some of them to consider changing their minds. With the advantage now of hindsight, I realize there were better points to bring out than the one I emphasized. But it was the best I had at the time. Its theme: “In these troublesome times and with the fouled-up international situation, chances are that sooner or later you men will be called back in the Navy anyway. You’ll save yourself a lot of trouble in the long run.” I like to think that the talks had some effect—at least on the two who later reenlisted.
Looking back it becomes evident that my theme was on the negative side. Since then, other, more vital aspects bearing on reenlistment have presented themselves. The more significant among them have been grouped into nine categories. These are offered as discussion topics for shipping over talks. The first five might be classified as tangible factors; the last four, as intangible factors. All, I think, have positive aspects.
* * *
Base Pay and Allowances.—Here is a subject with which the average young sailor is familiar. He knows what he receives right now. Finding out what he will get if he puts more years in the service and reaches a higher pay grade is simply a matter of asking any one of several persons in the disbursing office or of referring to Navy manuals.
He can learn the dollars and cents figures, but is he fully aware of the value of these cash payments over and above such things as “room and board” and free medical and dental care? Many sailors seem to have vague concepts of the value of “cash on the side” combined with the necessities of life, which are provided them. Usually these necessities are lumped together as “things the Navy owes me.” Well, whether owed them or not, they have both these and their cash payments—and will continue having them if they reenlist.
It is common knowledge that the pay spread between military pay and civilian pay is an ever-widening one, the military taking the low road. In the long run, however, the military enlisted have come along fairly well. From 1908 to 1950, for example, their pay increased nearly 250 per cent. Compare this with the increase in officer pay —which had gone up less than 50 per cent in that time—and you have an interesting point to make when giving a shipping over talk.
Promotion.—Lately there have been cries of outrage and grief following the posting of the petty officer advancements. These come from those who passed the examinations— and in all fairness, to those who studied hard for the exams—but were not advanced. At present, promotion is not one of the strongest shipping over points. There is too much contrast with the wide-open quotas of World War II and the Korean War. It has been well advertised that in the February, 1954, exams, for example, of the 54 per cent of the PO candidates who passed these difficult exams less than half were advanced.
Considering promotions on the basis of 15 or 20-year periods, though, they stand well above average through the years. The present low rate of reenlistment has a bearing on this. Breaking out the crystal ball, I’ll hazard these guesses. “The man who keeps his record clear and keeps up with both his work and his studies has a good chance of making PO2nd by his sixth year of service. A few will make PO1st. Three brand new hash-marks will be about par for CPO.” It would seem that looking at promotion opportunities in the long range view is better than looking at it in the shorter view of what per cent passed and were advanced in the latest examinations.
Fleet Reserve and Retirement.—Traditionally this is one of the strongest arguments for a full career. Once again the young sailor can easily learn the figures. But does he have any idea of the value of a monthly check in the mail box for the remainder of his life, through fat years and lean?
The great majority of careerists leave the Navy after 20 or 22 years of service—and as CPOs. As CPOs, they are assured of the highest monthly check on the enlisted scale. (And a check which stands a good chance of improvement during the next few years.) Going out on “twenty” indicates that they can take up civilian pursuits while still relatively young men.
For my own part, I know thirteen “retired chiefs.” All are doing right by themselves. Two have their own photographic businesses. One has a dry cleaning business. Three have white collar civil service jobs in Washington, D.C. Two are insurance salesmen. Two have their own cafes. And three are naval base guards. This may not be a typical list—no chicken raisers; it’s merely presented as a sample. Others in a position of making shipping over talk will have their own lists. Such concrete examples of what can follow upon a full service career, it would seem, are among the most effective ways to present the advantages of making that first reenlistment and then of “going for twenty.”
Dependents’ Benefits and Services.—I can offer no proof of this, but I believe that although eight or nine out of ten sailors on their first enlistment are unmarried, almost all give some serious thought to the idea of taking a wife in the next few years. The benefits and services to which a future wife would be entitled constitute a major item to most men considering reenlistment.
Perhaps the chief five of these are medical care and hospitalization, Navy exchange and commissary privileges, survivors’ benefits, travel and transportation allowances, and basic allowance for quarters. While the last two items might more properly be dealt with under Base Pay and Allowances, the first three are on the order of “fringe benefits.” Lately these fringe benefits have received considerable attention, not all of it beneficial. It is common knowledge that collectively they have had large and small chips hacked off their edges and more chipping seems in the offing.
The big picture, however, is often overlooked. There is a vast difference between having fringe benefits, even though the fringes are frazzled, and not having any fringe benefits whatsoever. And the sailor who ships over and later marries will rate Dependents’ Benefits and Services. That’s the point which should be stressed.
Education.—There are three ways in which a man can further his education in the Navy. Usually “education in the Navy” is regarded as USAFI studies, either through USAFI itself or sponsoring colleges. It is more than that, though. Through his in-rating training a careerist advances his knowledge, both of theory and of practical application, in what usually develops into his life’s profession. A third form of education comes through association with other enlisted men of varied skills and with officers of advanced formal education. In brief, he finds himself close by a heavy fund of knowledge. The type of man who rates a reenlistment talk would normally be one who takes advantage of these chances to advance his education.
Few professions are so conducive to off-duty reading as the naval profession. Exposure to the extensive collections of reading material in Navy libraries and to the various periodicals purchased through the ship or station’s Welfare and Recreation Fund—all these go into the making of an educationally well-rounded person.
* * *
Tangibility is a feature common to each of the five preceding factors. In some of their aspects they can be measured against dollars and cents values; in others they bear directly upon other material considerations of everyday living. Contrasting with the above five are four discussion factors which have intangibility as a point in common. Monetary value and other material considerations have little bearing here. The intangible factors can be just as vital as the tangible, however. As a very general rule it might be said that while a man thinks about the tangible factors, he feels about the intangible factors. Who can say which is the more important to the man faced with the choice of shipping over or leaving the Navy?
Adventure.—This seems to have fallen out of fashion lately as a point to be brought forth when presenting the advantages of Navy life. Nevertheless, it is one of the leading reasons why men join the Navy—and has been for generations.
The adventure spoken of here is not the type in which a handsome hero overcomes great obstacles to win his goal and girl. Rather, it is that typified by the many scenes taken in by a seagoing sailor: his division steaming in formation; his gun crew batting down a drone; his shipmates shoreward bound in a Far Eastern, Mediterranean, South American, or Caribbean port; his ship underway at high speeds in heavy seas to make a rendezvous or probing its way through a crowded roadstead blanketed by fog. His own part in realistic shipboard drills, his ship’s role in fleet operations, and the cruises to distant seas—these are signs of the adventurous life.
This adventure follows what in most cases is a rather prosaic life of going through school and being supported by dad. When it does come, though, it comes in a powerful dose. It is too strong a dose for even the most objectively-minded young man to evaluate in those first four hectic years. What seems called for is a little interpretation of these events: that there is little duplication of them elsewhere in the world; that he is a participant when history is being made; that his young manhood is being spent in surroundings far from dull—not only interpretation, but a reminder that such adventures will not be his if he fails to reenlist.
Good Associates.—Not long ago I had occasion to go to an inland city and while there to deliver a telephone message to the wife of a senior captain. After the message had been delivered the captain’s wife said, “You’re with one of the ships in the force, are you not?”
I replied that I was . . . “wonderful ship and a fine crew.”
“Yes,” she said, “aren’t they a splendid group of boys.”
I had never thought of my fellow enlisted men and the junior officers (she seemed to be referring to both groups) in that particular light. But she was obviously a woman of learning and culture and had put into different words what should be obvious to any person who looks about him and sizes up his shipmates: the men of the Navy form one of the finest groups to be found anywhere.
Many are the reasons given by those who choose to leave the Navy. However, one reason which is seldom, if ever, given is that which has to do with shortcomings in the caliber of the collective body of persons in the Navy. The assurance of association with “good people” is at present one of the finest talking points for remaining in the Navy.
Prestige.—Despite “unification,” enlisted men in the Navy consider themselves as Navy men (or Navymen) and not as servicemen. The Navy is considered in different lights at different levels. At the enlisted level I can speak with some degree of confidence. If there is one thing I’ve learned from talks with men just out of boot camp, with men of more advanced service, with men of other branches of the armed forces, it is this: at the enlisted level the Navy is considered the “prestige outfit.”
Somewhere along the line—it must have been during or shortly after World War II— the Navy lost a valuable possession. This was its brief, to-the-point motto: “The nation’s first line of defense.” There was a certain prestige in that motto. And it gave the man talking up his Navy a mighty useful packet of words to deal with. Unfortunately, no other motto was brought forth to replace it. As it now stands there is no way to describe the Navy’s rôle (task? mission? job?) in capsule form.
Of the nine separate factors under discussion, prestige is perhaps the most nebulous . . . the most difficult to talk about in a man-to-man conversation. It cannot be denied, though, that the man who dons the Navy uniform adds a certain amount of stature to himself; that he becomes a part of a prestige outfit. What other reason is there that men so carefully stow away their uniforms after discharge?
Good Times.—Like all other enlisted men I have often been asked, “Why did you join the Navy?” My answer: “For a good time.” I give this answer in all sincerity. Many movies of my younger years showed sailors having a fine time for themselves. The sailors on leave in my neighborhood always seemed to be enjoying themselves. Those I ventured to talk to said that they had an enjoyable life aboard ship, too. I vowed early that it was the Navy for me when I came of age. I wanted to get in on some of those good times.
And along with hard work and heartbreaks, with some long watches and some rugged duty, I have had myself some wonderful times in the Navy. The pendulum swings wide in the Navy. When the going gets rough it really gets rough; but when a good time is at hand a man can have himself a grand time. Taking civilian life as a whole, the pendulum “on the outside” doesn’t swing nearly as wide.
What are these good times? Most Navy-men know them: shipboard happy hours; going home on the first leave; fleet, force and ship athletic events; swimming over the side; playing “duty daddy” to orphans visiting the ship. But the best times of all, taken as a group, are those had on liberty, both stateside and foreign. Perhaps the best way to say this is, “Every day is a holiday to the crew of a ship just returned from operations.” Rare indeed is the man who hasn’t had many enjoyable times during his naval service.
The officer, CPO, or leading PO who selects a man for a shipping-over talk—especially if the two have been shipmates for any length of time—will have a fertile field if he decides to stress the subject of good times. To those who decide on such an approach the following advice is offered. Evoke the memory of those good times. Remind the man that there are more to follow. Advise him that though the civilian pendulum doesn’t swing as wide on the rough side, it doesn’t swing as wide on the good times side either.
* * *
In the final analysis does the man considering an initial reenlistment regard it as anything but a choice between a return to civilian life and a continuing on of Navy life? From all that I can determine, the answer is that he does not. The preceding nine factors, then, are among those which set apart the two ways of life.
This man, of course, has made comparisons for himself; but life has moved rapidly and he does not find it easy to make the comparisons objectively. The complex, intermingling aspects of Navy life and the effects of fast-changing policies and practices —how closely can he weigh and interpret these in their true values? Chances are, not very closely. Those of us who have kept up with developments and have the benefit of a few years’ experience are in a somewhat better position to do this weighing and interpreting. The young sailor who looks to his leading PO, his CPO, and his division officers for leadership and for assistance in meeting life in the Navy should expect some guidance from those same persons in making the choice between civilian and Navy life.
In this last respect there is one paramount fact which brings the whole picture into focus. How can this man on his first enlistment believe that signing up for a second is the better choice if his immediate leaders fail to make any mention that they themselves believe it the wise thing to do?
“Tell me about it”—he has the right to ask. Shipping over talk is the answer to that request.
Winner of the Honorable Mention award in the U. S. Naval Institute’s 1948 and 1949 Enlisted Prize Essay Contest, Chief Quartermaster Miller this year won first prize with his essay, “What! Me Ship Over!” His prize consists of a $500 award, a gold medal, and life membership in the U. S. Naval Institute.
Chief Quartermaster Miller enlisted in the Navy in 1938 and participated in the occupation of New Georgia-Rendova and Vella Lavella, the Treasury-Bougainville operations, the occupation of Emirau and of Peleliu, and the attack on Luzon and Formosa in World War II. He is presently serving in Flag Allowance of the Commander, Amphibious Forces, Atlantic Fleet.
GORILLA WARFARE
Contributed by COMMANDER L. NEWTON, U. S. Navy
The Gun Boss and the Chief Engineer carried on a running feud. The Chief had things pretty much his own way until the Gun Boss introduced his secret weapon—a monkey he had specially trained for this type warfare. The monkey was able to gain access to the Chief Engineer’s stateroom despite all precautions the Chief took to prevent his entering. All that monkey required was a few moments alone and the Chief’s room was unfit for human habitation for some time.
The Chief was completely at a loss as to how to meet this new insidious form of attack. Things were approaching a climax—such thoughts as murder, arson, and various other crimes of violence entered his head. He rejected these because he knew the tremendous amount of paperwork that would result. Suddenly the solution flashed before his beleaguered mind. The simplicity of the plan amazed him and he lost no time in putting it into execution.
The next morning he approached the Gun Boss while he was leisurely pacing the starboard quarterdeck,
“Good morning, Gun Boss,” said the Chief genially.
“Morning to you,” replied the Gun Boss guardedly.
“I saw the monkey in your room just now,” said the Chief.
“That’s nice,” replied the Gun Boss.
“He was scratching his back,” said the Chief Engineer.
“Most monkeys do,” said the Gun Boss.
“But he was using your tooth brush,” responded the Chief Engineer.
The silence that followed was broken by the rapid beat of retreating foot steps on the steel deck. Shortly after, a wild chattering and screaming was heard,—a loud splash, then silence.
The secret weapon was never seen again.
(The Proceedings will pay $5.00 for each anecdote submitted to, and printed in, the Proceedings.)