Honor, Courage, Commitment

by Leahy, John F.

  Rasco I’m thinking, oh, wow, this is exactly what I need. To make it all the way through battle stations and to strike out on the last event—and get ASMOed in the process. My knees are killing me from all the running, I’ve been up all night and I can’t even think, and I’m saying to myself, “Concentrate, concentrate.” It was awful.

  Orlando It was so bright in there, with the tube lights and all, after we had been outside in the dark, I was having trouble focusing my eyes. But we had just been there, like, a week before, so I knew where things were and stuff.

  Chief Besaw read the scenario for the last event. “You are assigned as a fire party member. Proper use of the damage-control skills you have learned is essential to save your ship. Whenever casualty strikes a ship, it is an unplanned event, and you must be prepared to use teamwork to overcome whatever situation is forced on you.

  “On 17 May 1987, while the U.S. Navy was providing security for tankers in the Persian Gulf during the Iran-Iraq war, the USS Stark (FFG31) was struck by two Exocet missiles launched by an Iraqi Mirage fighter. The resulting explosion and fire killed thirty-seven sailors, and the ship came very close to sinking, because of the large amount of damage. Because of the dedication of the crew the fires were eventually extinguished, the ship was saved, and was able to be taken to port for repairs. Undoubtedly those on board the Stark who survived had gone to great lengths to save their ship. Existing DC party organization had to be adapted to cope with the loss of so many members of the crew. Each and every surviving crew member had to put their lives on the line to try and control the fires and keep the ship afloat while efforts were made to render assistance from other Navy ships in the area.

  “Even though you may have specific assignments in your fire party, you must be prepared to take action where there is a casualty. It is probable that in a similar event many shipmates assigned specific duties will not survive and those who do survive must take up the slack. This is why understanding basic damage control is so critical and also why being able to perform as a member of a team is just as critical. Sometimes there isn’t enough time to think about it; sometimes you just have to do it. No one individual could have saved Stark, but the crew, working as a team, did. Now it’s your turn.”

  The recruits suited up in damage-control equipment—Oxygen Breathing Apparatus, flash protection hoods, fire-retardant gloves, and yellow fire-party helmets. For this event, the division was divided into six fire parties, each responsible for extinguishing a Class A fire, raging behind shipboard watertight doors on the port and starboard sides of the training deck. The location and intensity of these propane-fueled fires was controlled from a safety tower on the second-deck catwalk.

  Each team consisted of a fire-party leader, a nozzle man, and hosemen to control the 1.5-inch pressurized fire hose. A pumpman controlled the flow of water from standpipes located amidships. Each team had a DC instructor, standing beside the nozzle man, and a safety observer with the pumpman at the rear of the team. When the traditional RTC command of “Let’s go get it!” was sung out by the team leaders, the team leader approached the metal door, examining its surface with an ungloved hand to determine the extent of the fire behind. The doors were then undogged slightly, and shaken to allow super-heated air to escape, preventing backdraft from blowing the door open when the dogs were fully released. With a tap on the shoulder from the instructor, the team leader opened the door fully, and the recruits confronted the inferno inside.

  The nozzlemen opened their lines and swung the nozzle, left-right-up-down in the patterns they had been taught. The instructor shifted recruits to various positions, so that each had the opportunity to handle the nozzle of the bucking fire hose. Eventually, each of the blazes was brought under control. At a signal from the deck safety officer, water flow was shut off, and for the recruits of Division 005, battle stations exercises were completed.

  Not everyone was fortunate, however. At 0703, SR Zuni Robinson received her third strike of the evening for forgetting to set the timer on her OBA. As she was escorted out of the building for the long walk back to Ship Eight, Petty Officer Russell commented: “I know it seems harsh and brutal, but if someone goes into a shipboard fire and doesn’t know how much time he has on his OBA, you’ll just wind up having to send others in to rescue him. I don’t want any of my recruits putting other sailors in jeopardy out there in the fleet. She’s a good recruit, and she’ll be able to run battle stations again after a forty-eight-hour rest period, but they have to learn—this is serious business.”

  Alexis Lopez, 19, Brooklyn, New York

  That was the easiest of everything all night. Everyone was telling us that it was gonna be the place where everyone gets all those strikes, and that they were waiting for us, because, see, it was seven o’clock in the morning, and we’d been going all night, and them dudes had just come to work, you know? But it was easy, man.

  Johnson I had two strikes already, so I figured, well, here’s where I get “to the rear, march.” But it was easy, like he says.

  Division 005 gathered outside the Fire Fighting Training Unit. It was nearly 0800—the sun had risen at 0725—and the only thing between the recruits and the coveted NAVY ball cap was the graduation ceremony. That—and the long run back to Building 1312.

  0800, Friday, 01 December

  The recruits were exhausted. Counting their full duty day on Thursday, they’d been on the move for twenty-eight hours or more. Those unfortunate enough to draw duty on Wednesday night were approaching their fortieth hour of sleeplessness. They had moved several tons of stores, had had to swim, had fired weapons, carried shipmates, fought fires, and double-timed the length and breath of Recruit Training Command. Now, only a mile run separated them from the chance to exchange their hated “recruit” insignia for a NAVY ball cap, and the right to be called sailors.

  Broders Man, I just wanted to be done. The heat at fire fighting just about did me in. I was sweating under all that gear, and when we got outside and it was cold, it was like a relief. Until I remembered where we were, and that we weren’t done yet.

  Kelly I was actually feeling pretty good right about then. I figured, even if I had to crawl, I was gonna get back to the battle stations building. No way was I going to give up then.

  Starks I had been through all this before, so I knew what was coming.* I kept telling everyone—particularly the females—keep moving, keep moving. If you stop, you’ll never get started again. We were so slow mustering outside, it was, like, it’s over, folks! We just need to get back and get our hats.

  Petty Officer Dan Kent took the lead, and the division moved south at a reasonable pace. As the group approached the tunnel, Rasco dropped the running cadence, and, as is traditional at RDC, began the first verse of “Anchors Aweigh.”

  Wirsch That really got to me, when Schley started the Navy song. We hadn’t sung it when we went through the tunnel earlier. I thought, Oh, wow! That’s us she’s singing about! We’re not recruits anymore! We really are gonna make it! I just closed my eyes and said a prayer of thanksgiving to Heavenly Father for getting me through the night.

  The division cleared the tunnel, turned, and began double-timing down First Ave. To their left, the life-sized replica of Stanley Bleifeld’s “Lone Sailor” was lightly coated with snow. To their right, divisions of recruits, en route to class, mustered on the grinder separating Ships One and Two. ETC(SW)** Debbie Reilly, who had pushed eleven divisions through battle stations and was the most experienced division commander at Great Lakes, watched as they approached. “I saw Marty Zeller’s division coming out of the tunnel, dirty, freezing, and dog-tired. Some of them looked like they were dragging, not carrying, their seabags. A couple had their Kevlar helmets squashed down on their faces. It had stopped snowing, but it was cold, and the wind was hitting ’em right on. I figured they needed a little cheering up.”

  Reilly ordered her division to sound off with three cheers for Division 005. As the recruits made the final turn into Indiana St.,
the cheers of their fellow recruits echoed off the barracks and battle stations building. Division 005 was coming home.

  Scorsone Right then, I about lost it. I was running on the right side, and saw it was Chief Reilly’s division cheering for us. She had been in Ship Eight, back when we were still Smurfs, and she had been really, really tough on us. And she’s clapping and her folks are cheering, and they didn’t even know us, you know?

  Collins That was cool, what they did. Petty Officer Kent was shouting for us to get one last chant going, but, to be honest, I don’t think anyone had any breath left. We were beat, man, but hearing them cheering for us, and seeing everyone waiting outside the battle stations building, well, it was cool, man, it really was.

  Dizon I just started to cry when I saw the building at the end of the last run. I was so happy, thinking it was finally done, and I really was going to get out of boot camp.

  Leitner As soon as I came through the tunnel and made the turn, it was, like, I made it! I made it!

  The division ground to a halt on Indiana St., right in front of Building 1312. Chief Zeller led a small group of wellwishers who greeted the division as they entered the building and prepared for the graduation ceremony. Smelling of soot and smoke—and, well, just smelling—the group took a short head call to clean the worst of the grime from hands and faces, before entering the quarterdeck for the graduation ceremony.

  Mary Smith Seeing Chief Zeller there, that was special, too. I wish he had been able to run with us all night. I knew I was gonna miss him, and Petty Officer Kent and Russell too, when I left. But Chief Zeller—he’s my favorite.

  The recruits filed into the assembly area south of the quarterdeck. They were soon joined by the recruits of Divisions 006 and 902. Facing forward, Division 005 was assigned to the starboard side of the central rostrum. Bulkheads surrounding the recruits were decorated with the Navy’s core values. Poster-sized photographs told the stories of heroic sailors, whose actions exemplified those values. Hopkins and Rasco quickly dressed the division in parade order, and allowed them to stand at ease as the other divisions paraded in the center and portside positions.

  0830: Sailors at Last

  ETCS(SS)* Daryl Mullins strode into the assembly area. As leading chief of the battle stations group, Senior Chief Mullins would direct the morning’s activities. He called the recruits to attention. Doors opened on the port and starboard sides of the assembly areas. The night’s cadre of battle stations facilitators, outfitted in clean, pressed battle dress—with gold ascots highlighting the gold trim on their single-piece coveralls, entered from the starboard side. They marched smartly to the front of the room, halted, and turned to face the recruits.

  Nine RDCs—three for each division—entered from the port side. They, too, joined the line facing the recruits.

  The morning’s reviewing officers followed the RDCs into the auditorium. Capt. Ed Gantt, base commander, and Lt. Erin McAvoy, ship’s officer at Ship Eight, would conduct the graduation ceremony. The recruits especially welcomed Captain Gantt’s presence. Ever since he had run with them during the Captain’s Cup competition several weeks previously, Division 005 had always claimed him as their own. As a former enlisted man, he identified well with the recruits, and they appreciated his candor, openness, and caring attitude toward them and their problems.

  The recruits saluted, and held their salute as a recording of the national anthem filled the room. Tears filled the eyes of many of the recruits as they listened to Whitney Houston’s rendition of the familiar words. Perhaps never before in their lives had those words held quite the meaning they had this morning.

  The recruits dropped their salute as the last bars reverberated around the room. Lieutenant McAvoy began: “Shipmates, this is a time of transition. You entered this room as recruits. For eight weeks—nearly nine weeks—you have studied, you have drilled, you have practiced the skills which we need—and need desperately—in the fleet. You entered recruit training as individuals. You learned teamwork here. You could not have completed battle stations without exercising that teamwork. There’s not one person in this room—not you, nor I, nor Captain Gantt—who can singlehandedly put a ship to sea. Together—together!—we can crew any ship, meet any challenge, defeat any foe. You have fought the good fight, you have finished the course, you have kept faith with our core values. And your RDCs have kept faith with you, too. Today you are no longer recruits. You’ll not be addressed that way ever again. Today you are sailors.

  “During battle stations you’ve heard the stories of sailors who have been tested, and who overcame those challenges with valor. Some have won high awards. Before you leave here this morning, look around you. Count the Medal of Honor recipients whose pictures honor this room. Count the winners of the Silver Star, the Navy Cross, and the Bronze Star. They were once like you, frightened, tired, terrified. They came through when it counted, and you will, too. I’m proud of you—each one of you. Bravo Zulu, sailors!”

  The sounds of Lee Greenwood’s tribute to the American fighting man filled the room. To the strains of “God Bless the USA,” the nine RDCs turned, saluted, and moved to a series of tables near the podium. Kent, Russell, and Chief Zeller each took a handful of ball caps with the word NAVY emblazoned on the front and, with a handshake and a few personal words, presented each new sailor with the symbol of his or her passage through the crucible of military training. “Pass-in-review is for the moms and pops,” Chief Zeller remarked a few days later. “This ceremony is for the recruits. Anyone can go buy one of those hats at the NEX—but these kids had to earn theirs. And they’ll hold on to that hat for the rest of their lives, I bet.”

  Alcazar I thought I was dreaming. I cried, I was so happy. I never thought I’d make it through battle stations, ever since I got here, you know? I never ran in my entire life. I never did sit-ups or push-ups, none of that. I was surprised, I was shocked. I was just waiting to wake up. And when Petty Officer Kent gave me the NAVY ball cap, that just made me feel so good.

  Hattrich I started crying when Petty Officer Russell handed me my ball cap, and she was all smiling, and it was, like, we aren’t bad recruits anymore.

  Alcazar She even gave some of us a hug. I was the last one she gave a hug to, and she’s saying, “Stop, stop, or I’m gonna start bawling, too. You’re messing up my reputation.” And that was kind of heartwarming, because she’s known as the mean one, but she’s the most respected, too.

  Burger I was looking at Kyaw, and he was really crying. Especially during the national anthem.*

  Alcazar When we broke ranks, the first person I went to see was Senior Chief Nelson of brother division. When I failed PT-2, he was the person who took me aside and gave me a lot of motivation, and he told me that he’d run with me every day till I passed, and if it wasn’t for him, I’d never have passed PT-2 and gotten to run battle stations. Even though he wasn’t my RDC, and my RDCs are really great, he was the one that really helped me the most when I needed it.

  Freeman The best part was looking around and seeing all your shipmates there. Some of them wanted to drop out at different parts of the night, but we kept talking and kept everyone together, and seeing the pride on their faces, it was great.

  Mary Smith I just wished my dad were there to see me. He was a Navy warrant officer, but he died when I was little. I just wished he was there with me. [Crying.]

  He was, Mary. He was.

  *Seaman Recruit Starks, the female MAA, had ASMOed into the division and was the only member who had completed battle stations previously.

  **Chief Reilly is a chief electronics technician (E7), with surface warfare qualifications.

  *Senior Chief Mullins is a senior chief electronics technician (E8), with submarine warfare qualifications.

  *Seaman Recruit Naing T. Kyaw is a refugee from Burma, and had been in the United States for only four years. Kyaw also won the division academic award, for the best cumulative written test scores, even though he is not a native English speaker.r />
  15

  Dangers, Great and Small

  The recruits had not eaten since 1600 on Thursday, and most were famished. The command had arranged a special brunch for the battle stations graduates, and the division, led by Chief Zeller, proceeded to Galley 928. It’s difficult to find the proper verb to describe the trip: “marching” doesn’t carry the precise connotation; perhaps “strutting” comes closest. Gildersleeve—ever the innovator when it came to cadence chants—was in rare form. They marched as if the word “Navy” on their ball caps were incandescent. They basked in the envy and admiration of the junior divisions they passed. Because it was Friday, civilian guests had begun to gather at MCPON Hall, preparing for that morning’s pass-in-review. Hopkins and his team of recruit petty officers made sure the division looked good as they passed by.

  Hopkins It was awesome, just awesome. We passed by an RDC and I said, “Good morning, Petty Officer,” like the RPOC is supposed to do. And he looked at us and said, “Good morning, sailors”—not recruits, but sailors! And that was, like, wow! That had never, ever happened to me before.

  The division had another surprise when they arrived at Galley 928. Joined by Captain Gantt and their RDCs, for the first time since arriving at Great Lakes they were permitted to talk during the meal. Several recruits—led by the irrepressible Leah Taylor—rendered impressions of their RDCs, and the resulting laughter filled the dining area. They were sailors now, among sailors, and things would never be the same.

  Hattrich I was just so glad it was over. The only thing that was wrong was that it was Petty Officer Kent’s last battle stations before he retires, and I don’t think we looked all that good for him to the other battle stations facilitators. We maybe weren’t as motivated as we could be—we tried singing and chanting, but most of us were so tired and cold and our lungs hurt so bad it was hard for us to sing when we were going between events. But I felt bad for him, and wish we had looked better for him to his buddies.