"I wish someone would just tell me the truth." It is the mantra of midshipmen from time immemorial. They seem to feel as though external forces are controlling all the information they receive, withholding some that might be vital and feeding them other information that is extraneous. It is as though they are catching glimpses of the real world, but someone is withholding a full view.
So here it is: the truth from the fleet. Whether you are departing the confines of Bancroft Hall at the U.S. Naval Academy, graduating from an NROTC program, or completing Officer Candidate School, these are ten things you should know before you go on board your ship, enter your squadron, or join your platoon.
1. The five basic responses.
Yes, sir. No, sir. Aye aye, sir. I'll find out, sir. No excuse, sir. As plebes, midshipmen are limited to these five responses. For their remaining three years at the academy, , they try to cast them off. In the fleet, you ignore them at your peril.
I could not care less for an officer who tells me "I think ' so, sir," or "I told them to, sir," or "It should be, sir." Try giving those responses to questions such as, "Is that fuel tank safe to enter?" "Has the ejection seat been repaired?" "Are your spaces secured for sea?" "Is your weapon safe?"
As one three-star said to me when my ship was responsible for range clearance for a combined surface- and air-launched Harpoon shot, "When you tell me the range is clear, I want that to mean within a metaphysical certitude that there is no one on the range. Is the range clear?"
"I think so, sir," probably would not have satisfied the, metaphysical certitude criterion.
Midshipmen learn the five basic responses for a simple reason: sailors lives depend on them. Even now, 24 years after graduation from the Naval Academy, I live by them, and I expect my officers to do likewise.
2. "Qualifications of a Naval Officer."
You memorized it because you had to. But once you are in the fleet, you will have to live by its rules, for the., great truth is this: you are being watched. Not just by me,, but by every sailor and Marine in your charge. They will watch the way you dress, the way you act, the way you stand the watch, the way you behave on liberty, and the way you hold yourself in front of them at morning quarters. They will take their cues from you and live according to how you live. While a classmate might be indifferent to your unpolished shoes, unkempt hair, or ill-fitting uniform, a chief, or even a seaman, will not share that indifference. From a chief, you will get advice delivered behind closed doors in deliberate, measured tones. From a seaman, it will be a slam, as in "I'll shine my shoes when you shine yours, sir."
So, yes, learning the "Qualifications of a Naval Officer" is rote memorization. Yet, "Qualifications" contain definitive, unapologetic, unerring guidance on what sailors and seniors expect of their division officers. They will not want a new friend, and they will not want you to share your tattoo with them in some misguided effort to be one of the boys. Instead, they want someone they can look up to, someone they can be proud of as you walk down the pier, someone they can respect. In a word, you always should remember "the great truth, that to be well obeyed," you "must be perfectly esteemed."
3. "The Laws of the Navy."
"The Laws of the Navy," written by Royal Navy Admiral Ronald Hop wood at the turn of the 19th century, contains exceptional words to live by that offer a solid foundation on which to build your future. You cannot separate "The Laws of the Navy" and "Qualifications of a Naval Officer." One without the other is incomplete. Both recognize that to be a competent officer, you will have to be "perfectly esteemed," and you must put your sailors' welfare ahead of your own.
Consider the whole of "The Laws" to be scripture, but here are two fleet favorites:
So live that thou bearest the strain.
When you walk on board and greet your troops for the first time, they will want to know what your standards are. They will take their cues initially from the way you carry yourself, your demeanor, and your appearance. That is only the start, however. You will be tested daily on your adherence to the standards you have set. Either you train the way you fight or you don't. It is as simple as that. If you do, you will bleed less in war.
It is anathema to have occasional lapses in your standards. These lapses will be beacons in an otherwise dark night that attract attention and invite replication. You must set the standard and live it on a daily basis, because it is impossible to know when you will suffer the heat and light of crisis or war. At the academy or in college we all thought we rated what we got away with. This attitude breeds innovation and resiliency, even if that resiliency rests in how you bounce back from a black "N" (what midshipmen receive after getting 50 demerits for infractions). In the fleet, on the other hand, you will get away with nothing less than an honest mistake. Cutting corners, taking shortcuts, or choosing the easy road—in short, not bearing the strain—will result in ships running aground, planes flying into the water, or Marines' lives at risk.
Pray for leave for the good of the service, as much and as oft as may be.
Your life at sea is arduous, and you will find that your temper flares as your patience diminishes. Take leave. Go home. Go kayaking. Do something—just get away from it all, and give your people room to grow.
You are not indispensable, and you never will achieve perfection. Give your people a chance to take charge, the opportunity to do things on their own, even while knowing you might do things differently. Striving for constant improvement is good. Striving for perfection—doing everything yourself because you are afraid someone else will not get it quite right—is nuts. You will drive yourself and your people insane.
4. The honor concept.
Lie once, tell one half-truth, deny one transgression to your commanding officer or to your sailors, and they will cease to see you as a person of honor. You will no longer be "perfectly esteemed," and you will be discounted and cast aside.
Here is another great truth: you will be tested daily. Your sailors, your ship, your squadron, your plane, or your platoon will test you every day. When a chief brings you a piece of paper to sign that both you and he know is not exactly true, you are being tested. Sign it, and you fail the test. I assure you, another tainted piece of paper will be close on its heels. Read the history of the MV-22 Osprey program. Read about the operations officer who signed off on an inventory of all (well, almost all) the secret material in the safe. Or read the story of the dynamics in the control room of the Greeneville (SSN-772) on 11 February 2001.
5. Take nothing at face value.
Do not take the routines of the fleet as simply activity. They are much more than habitual chores.
It is like marching at the Academy. Marching is not really about marching: it is about instant obedience to an order, performing flawlessly as a team, and publicly displaying the skill and pride resident in your company.
Three times a day under way we routinely pass "sweepers, sweepers, man your brooms, give the ship a clean sweep-down fore and aft." But sweepers is more than just sweeping, and more than just cleaning the ship. Sweepers is about issuing an order, following up on it, and giving guidance when necessary and praise where warranted. It is about getting out of your stateroom and talking to your people.
It will be here that you will find out that Seaman Bradley needs help finding more time to work on his college courses because he never learned how to budget his time, or that Fireman Hill's wife is pregnant and about to give birth, and he cannot get anyone below you to act on his chit. just talking to your people can have an amazing effect. When it comes time for sailors to check out with the commanding officer and leave the command, they vividly remember that one time "my division officer did not have time to talk to me."
6. Work for yourself.
You are a first classman, a senior. Now you are at the pinnacle of your academy or college career. You have all the power, all the glory, and all the freedom—or at least more than you have had for the past three years. Once you graduate and become an ensign or second lieutenant, why would you want to give up your autonomy?
Firsties at the academy pretty much work for themselves within the confines of "Mother B" (Bancroft Hall). You can have that status on your ship, in your squadron, or in your platoon if your standards are high. If you set your standards for your spaces higher than the accepted status quo, you will be able to set your own hours, prioritize your work, and work under your own direction. In short, you will work for yourself.
On the other hand, if your standards are lower than those of your boss, you always will work for him. In trying to get you to meet his standards, he will end up telling you what to do, when to do it, and how it should be done. It is unpleasant to have to grab a division officer and lead him to his unkempt auxiliary machinery room and say, "What do you intend to do about this?" I would much rather have him come to me, grab me by the elbow, and tell me, "Look what my sailors have done."
Sailors will obey you because you have exercised good leadership, because you have practiced good order and discipline, because you have set the example, and because you bear the strain every day. You will earn their trust by treating them right. Then they will obey you because you have earned that right. Once you earn that trust, it becomes the most cherished of your possessions, and you will do nothing that puts it in jeopardy.
And as for glory, look to "The Laws of the Navy." Count not upon certain promotion. Sailors do not like to be used as stepping stones. If you have not figured it out, I will tell you: you exist for them, not the other way around.
7. You will fail occasionally; you will make mistakes.
I have made mistakes every step of the way to being a captain in command, and I continue to make them. You, too, will make mistakes—but knowing that you tried, that you were not malicious, that you were willing to be "the man in the arena," all these will make the difference. True leaders can discern "error from malice, thoughtlessness from incompetency, and well meant shortcoming from heedless or stupid blunder," so your chief or your bluejackets or your department head or your commanding officer will pick you up, dust you off, and tell you to go try again. I do not give a damn for anyone who is afraid to get into the arena and make a mistake. You learn from your mistakes, and your people learn from theirs.
There is an accommodation ladder from the Sumter (LST-1181) at the bottom of the basin in Little Creek, Virginia. I put it there as a junior officer.
8. Have fun.
At the Naval Academy, midshipmen are restricted and held back. And yet, through it all, they learn how to have fun. Being in the Navy, as arduous as it is, is about having fun. It is adventure, exhilaration, heartache, and worth, all wrapped up in a single package. You are supposed to have fun, and you are supposed to be seen having fun. I do not care for martyrs—those who are forever going about saying, "Woe is me! see how hard I work and how dedicated I am." It's boring. I want you to have fun, even after you have screwed up.
Let me say it again: being in the Navy is about having fun. Personally, I have had a blast. My junior officers who have taken oil smugglers over the horizon have had fun. Earning the admiration and respect of your division is fun. Port visits are fun. The wardroom is fun. The train to Tokyo, the tram to Corcovado, the roads to Rome, and the footpath up Mt. Fuji all are fun. Fort Lauderdale, Coronado, San Diego, Newport, and Virginia Beach are fun. Life is a hoot beyond the breakwater. Go there.
9. Remember your school and classmates.
It is an odd thing. Twenty years from now, you will live your life in the fervent hope that you will not do something that embarrasses your school or your classmates. It helps to keep things in perspective. be true to your school.
10. The Elements of Style, by E. B. White and Joseph Strunk Jr.
Get a copy and read it.
You wanted the truth; there it is. You get a clean slate in the fleet—nobody cares that you have three black "Ns" or that you were the brigade commander or the captain of the football team. We care only that you perform, put ship and shipmates first, try hard, and speak the truth. So much of what you did in school is immediately, unconditionally, and irrevocably transferable to the fleet. Not by happenstance, but by design. We in the fleet want what they have been giving you the past four years. It is the real world.
See you in the fleet.
Captain Nichols is the commanding officer of the cruiser Philippine Sea (CG-58) and a 1978 graduate of the U.S. Naval Academy.