My first "port call" in the Navy came at the end of plebe summer, at a Baltimore Orioles game at Camden Yards. Freshly shaven and wearing my pristine summer-white uniform, which I had meticulously ironed, shined, and polished, I was ready to carry out my duty as "the face of the Navy." Before my company mates and I were allowed to exit our bus and march to our seats in the left-field bleachers, our detailers rattled off a list of thou-shalt-not's that we were ordered to obey. Don't wander out of the assigned seating area. Don't address any civilian without addressing them as "sir" or "ma'am." Don't spill anything on your uniform. Basically, we were on a mission to watch a baseball game, eat hot dogs, and not tarnish the Naval Academy's 160-year-old reputation. Midway through the game some friends and I went to get food from the concession stand. As we stood in a gaggle, a civilian girl approached and told us that we looked good in our uniforms. This was the moment I had been waiting for: validation from the opposite sex that summer whites really were all they were cracked up to be. Obeying the brief on the bus, I replied, "Thank you, ma'am."
Thank you, ma'am??? This girl was my age, and the best I could say was "Thank you, ma'am"? I may not exactly have been the Fonz in high school, but even I knew that this was not how to talk to a girl. Needless to say, not much conversation ensued. When the game ended and we headed back to the Naval Academy, the detailers must have been relieved that none of us got in trouble and we hadn't ruined the Academy's reputation. Mission accomplished. We had stayed to ourselves, apart from civilians who probably just wanted to have a pleasant conversation with us. The best thing the detailers could have done, however, would have been to let us talk and laugh with people who would have simply liked to hear stories from the most memorable summer of our lives. Who needs a public affairs officer when there are 1,200 plebes ready to inspire children and adults with their humor, intellect, and pure relief over conversing with a "normal person?"
The Neighborhood Bar, 3,000 Miles from Home
During my "youngster" cruise in Rota, Spain, I experienced a similar phenomenon. The crew and midshipmen were given a liberty brief outlining what we couldn't do and where we couldn't go, much like the brief I was given on the bus a year earlier. This was obviously standard operating procedure and definitely helped warn us of potentially dangerous or unsafe places. We were left with the assumption that we could not do anything other than go to a bar or restaurant that had been approved. Exactly what I expected would happen, happened. Everyone ended up at the same bar, dressed in ironed khaki pants and polo shirts, talking only to one another. Nothing had changed much from the atmosphere on the ship, except that we were in a foreign country and at a bar that may as well have been plucked out of Anywhere, U.S.A. Is this really how the U.S. Navy wants to portray itself around the world?
One of the things that attracted me to the Navy when I was 17 was that it would provide unparalleled opportunities for travel and experience. I wholeheartedly agree with the late Vice Admiral James B. Stockdale's belief that "a good life is one that accumulates high-quality memories." One of the best ways to acquire memories is through travel. These memories, however, aren't derived from lying on exotic beaches and drinking beer-or by frequenting bars that could have been transposed from your home town. They are gained by immersing oneself in a foreign culture and by interacting with people of different faiths, beliefs, and experiences. They are formed by helping a community, even if that means merely reading to an elementary school class or pitching in to repair a family's house. After all, small actions can lead to big results. The surface Navy should put a premium on providing its Sailors with the best service opportunities in foreign ports. Why not give Sailors the chance to visit a school, church, mosque, or synagogue when they arrive at a port call, an opportunity to teach a child in Singapore throw a football or to help repair a house in Kenya? Let's give them a chance to explore a culture and gain the experience to which Stockdale refers.
Service or Cervezas?
Opponents may claim Sailors only want to relax during a port call. After all, they have been working hard and deserve a break. I couldn't agree more. But there is a difference between relaxation and rejuvenation. A person refreshed after a port call will return to the ship inspired by an experience that has left a permanent impression. Rejuvenation can come from the belief that one has left a place better than it was before one arrived. One gains satisfaction by becoming involved in community service-not to mention a refreshed mind, positive outlook, and most important, the desire to do it again. Relaxation, while valuable, does not beget this type of reward. Sitting on a beach with a cold beer or going to a bar with friends may temporarily renew one's spirits, but this will not yield the permanent memories that constitute "a good life."
People don't join the Navy unless they want to serve. The surface Navy should take advantage of its Sailors' passion and provide such service-related projects in foreign ports. This would benefit the Navy and the United States because, as we've learned since 9/11, our credibility depends on the relationships we build with the people around the world. Community service allows America to forge such relationships. And such community service opportunities can't help but improve retention rates throughout the surface Navy. The greater degree to which the surface Navy is able to satisfy its Sailors' need for fulfillment, the better the chance these Sailors will choose to continue their careers. This is not to imply that Sailors are not fulfilled by their jobs in and of themselves, but the greater the breadth of experience the surface Navy is able to provide, the more satisfied its Sailors will be.
Voluntary Service Is Good Diplomacy
The results of such community service will not necessarily be tangible. Sailors may bring home only a "thank you" from someone they've helped, or they may leave behind a community improved by their good work. The United States doesn't necessarily need to build a structure to make a lasting difference. What separates the surface Navy from other branches of naval service is its ability to use soft power to achieve its military and diplomatic objectives. To quote former chairman of the National Intelligence Council and Assistant Secretary of Defense during the Clinton administration, Joseph S. Nye, Jr., in his book Soft Power, "A country may obtain the outcomes it wants in world politics because other countries want to follow it." From a diplomatic perspective, the more the United States is able to spread its values of charity and selflessness, the more likely it is to gain allies. The surface Navy is best positioned to execute this mission, and it takes no more than a few Sailors on a port call to make a lasting difference.
The tendency to be risk-averse in a foreign port is understandable. There are many variables, and many things can go wrong. Safety is always the priority, and a ship must be manned properly to carry out its primary mission: to maintain its readiness for combat. That being said, however, voluntary service in a foreign port can yield future dividends. The surface Navy should not shy away from taking calculated risks to serve. After all, SWOs don't avoid risk, they manage it. It would be easy to uphold the status quo and be satisfied with the fact that foreign ports welcome our money spent in their bars and restaurants. Imagine how much they would welcome our time, energy, and work ethic. A bartender will serve our Sailors today, but his children would follow us tomorrow.