Tomahawks and Helicopters
The talking heads broadcasting the details of the Syrian airbase attack would perfunctorily announce, “Tomahawk cruise missiles were launched from the destroyers USS Porter and USS Ross”, the implication being that this was easy, “a given”. It isn’t.
The United States Navy is a large complex entity. To understand it, one must simplify. Envision the Navy as a sandwich. The enlisted men are the bottom bread. The officers are the top. In between, are the Chiefs. Just as the meat defines a sandwich, the Chiefs define the Navy. They have broad, detailed knowledge of the Navy and its operations.
When I served, the draft was in effect. Hence, if one graduated from high school and did not go on to college, one could hang around the house for only so long before Uncle Sam called. Given the draft, most of the enlisted men were draftees, the majority in their late teens. Most had never been away from home, and had never had a job more serious than cutting the lawn- enlisted boys more than men. It was the Chiefs’ job to transform them into an effective cadre called sailors. Ninety-five per cent were pleasers and, as such, were eager to learn and do a good job. They were afraid, of course, and in need of mentoring. Under their tutelage of the Chiefs, they easily became sailors. The remaining five percent were recalcitrant. Some were just sloths and others, in today’s psychiatrically enlightened and politically correct world, would probably be labeled “oppositional defiant disorder” or some other psychiatric mouthful. The Navy Chiefs, however, didn’t bother with elaborate nosology. To them these guys were just “#ssholes”. The Chiefs had special techniques for dealing with “#ssholes” and were successful in transforming the majority into sailors. This left a refractory minority, about one per cent. These were subjected to the coordinated efforts of every one of the Chiefs with whom they interacted. Each would be tagged to monitor movement just as one might tag a shark to follow its wanderings. Now, no matter where the “one per center” went, the Chief in that sector would be alerted and would hone in. It was a twenty-four seven behavioral modification program that was surprisingly successful. A lot were transformed. Several had epiphanies and, for the first time, experienced a life with purpose and self-esteem. Many went on to be become Chiefs themselves. Alas, however, there were a very few who could not be salvaged. These were, using the euphemistic jargon of the Office of Naval Personnel, “processed out of the Navy”.
The officers were another matter. Unlike the sailors, they were the Chiefs’ superiors and, as such, had to be handled differently. Some officers were Naval Academy graduates. Others were “mustangs”, officers who had risen through the ranks and had once been Chiefs themselves. Both understood the Navy. Kindred spirits all, the Chiefs got along well with them. The other group of officers wasn’t drafted until after college. They attended a twelve-week “Officer Candidate School” and then were let loose with barely a clue about what the real Navy was about. Nonetheless, these officers, baccalaureates after all, tended to be elitist. The Chiefs’ feeling about them is best portrayed as follows:
The Chiefs mentored officers by communicating in a language called “Chief-speak”. Just as the romance languages have a lot of words ending in vowels, “Chief-speak” is riddled with “Sirs”. Let me give you an example. Imagine a compartment on a ship that has a stopcock. The Chief knows that opening it will cause flooding. There is a sailor in that compartment. “Chief-speak” is not required. The Chief gives him direction by saying “DO NOT TOUCH THAT STOPCOCK, DUMBASS”. A new scenario: The Chief is in the compartment. Ensign Smith, fresh from Harvard, enters reading a Navy manual. He intends to open the stopcock. In this instance, “Chief-speak” is used. The Chief will say, “ I consider Navy manuals to be like books of the Bible, Sir. Engineering-wise it would appear that opening the stopcock would be helpful as you say, Sir. But in my experience, Sir, opening that stopcock will cause this compartment to flood with seawater, Sir”. If Ensign Smith is smart he will get the message. If not, the Chief will leave the compartment, “dog the hatch”, and listen for the screaming. Ensign Smith will pay attention next time.
After a time, everything and everyone gets “squared away”. There is learning and maturation. As a result, missions are accomplished. The Tomahawk missile, “the given”, launches flawlessly without the ship being sunk in the process.
Those of you reading this, even though you have never been in the Navy, may have the feeling that you may have encountered people like the Navy Chiefs. That is because you have. They may have been an aunt, uncle, parent, coach, or any other who, like the Chiefs, solve problems with the resources at hand no matter how imperfect those might be. They always seem to hear the signal amidst the noise. They mentor the easy and the difficult. Wise in the ways of the world, they navigate it smartly. Whatever the job, they got it done.
Thank God for these people. They move the world.
The last Navy Chief with whom I served gave me a piece of practical advice. As homage to him, I will pass it on to you. Never get in a helicopter unless you absolutely have to.
1SuburbanDad
You must be logged in to post a comment.