There are two sets of paperwork sitting on my desk just now. One is a packet of documents formalizing an offer of post-naval employment. The other is a packet of documents that will end my active service. I can’t seem to make a start on either of them.
I rationalize to myself that my last day in the uniform of the country I have served for the last 30 years is not yet certain - my approved retirement date is 1 AUG 2008, but I’ve requested a modification to those orders moving it up to 1 JUL 2008. It’ll be approved of course. No reason for them not to approve it. Probably on the way. But it’s not here yet, and so I dither.
Yesterday I found myself trolling through the list of captain jobs on the BUPERS website, although the notion of continued service at this point is anachronistic. Nevertheless I smiled at the thought of serving as the naval attaché to Sweden, a job on offer in August of 2008. Beautiful country, Sweden. Wonderful sporting tradition.
But the fact of the matter is that there are far higher priority fills than that attaché job in Sweden, which will probably be packaged as a “bundled deal” for someone willing to gut the hard job out in Al Asad or in “The Building” first, God bless him and keep him safe. And for me, it’s time. Time to start taking things home from the office. Pictures. Files. The flight jacket that drapes across my chair.
It’s coming down to lasts.
I shined my brown shoes for the last time on Monday. I got my what’s probably my last military haircut today. “Number two, tapered. Even it out on top.” That’s what I’ve said for twenty years, at least. I’m not even sure what to ask for next go-around, although the Kat has formally admonished me that pony tales will not be tolerated. As if.
Broke out a freshly pressed set of khakis and pinned it out for probably the last time today. An eagle for each collar, facing inwards. A name tag. Command-at-Sea pin on the left pocket flap, under the top three ribbons and the Wings of Gold. I worked hard for those wings, and harder for that pin. The ribbons just seemed to show up periodically. The Legion of Merit is my highest award, followed by the Meritorious Service Medal. Both of them mean nothing to me. In fact, the only two bits of cloth I’ve ever cared about were the Strike/Flight Air Medal and Sea Duty Service Ribbon. Twenty or so combat missions - including a tough one that went very well - and seven deployments.
In a week, maybe 10 days the whole rig will go in a closet back home. Every once in a while it’ll catch my eye when I’m looking for something else. I wonder now what I’ll think about in those moments. What I’ll remember. Some day, hopefully very far in the future, it will fall to one of the kids to clean out the closet. Not knowing what any of it meant to me, because I’ve never found a way to talk about it that didn’t seem like boasting.
Drove in to work past the carrier pier today, like I have for the last seven years or so. When I wasn’t at sea. It’s been overcast and rainy, which strangely suits my mood. The USS Ronald Reagan trembles at the leash, ready to go. Stennis was just here, starting the cycle, my people aboard her, certifying her safe for operations. They come and they go, the same ships for forty, fifty years. Different men and women each time. There is a rhythm to these things, rhythms great and small.
There are no irreplaceable men. If you want to know the hole you leave behind when you go, put your fist in a bucket of water. Now pull it out. There. That’s the hole.
It was a nice offer, and seems a good company. All ex-Navy. Small, nimble, flat and entrepreneurial. Program management and acquisition consulting for a large Navy command here in San Diego. As opposed to the behemoths that also were in play. Safe places you could profitably work for another 20 years and leave no mark whatsoever.
There was a time when I really wanted to just do something different. Get away from all of it and make surfboards, or something. But that’s throwing away a quarter century of experience and starting all over again as a novice. With two girls to put through college and a house that’s not paying for itself. And I remind myself over and over again that it doesn’t have to be for 30 more years.
“It’s your contacts,” everyone said, and it’s true that it could have been - I got offers because of who I know. People from back in the day. But the VP hired me as much as anything because I’ve spent the last two and a half years grinding out an MS in Systems Engineering Management during my “twilight tour.” As opposed to working on my handicap. The money’s not bad, especially throw retirement on top of it. But all that said, it’s absolutely appalling how little you get to keep when it’s all taxable.
You’re going to love it on the outside, everyone tells me. It’s going to be great. I nod and I smile and tell them I’m excited. That I can’t wait to get started. All the while feeling like something inside me is dying.
I was very proud to be a part of this. There were some wonderful people, and while it was not always perfect, it was… important.
76 responses so far ↓
1
MajMike
// May 7, 2008 at 1:51 pm
you lookin’ for Johnny Paddles to wave you off?
ain’t gonna happen.
call the ball.
2
Buck
// May 7, 2008 at 2:11 pm
Wow. Powerful, Lex.
All I can say is “Thanks.” For many, many things… your service and your blog being only two. Well, that and “You will like it on the outside.” Trust me on that one.
3
blackeagle603
// May 7, 2008 at 2:16 pm
“Did you ever reach a point in your life, where you say to yourself, ‘This is the best I’m ever going to look, the best I’m ever going to feel, the best I’m ever going to do,’ and it ain’t that great?
Should be no regrets for you Lex. Fresh start.
Kill anyone today Curly?
4
Mike47
// May 7, 2008 at 2:16 pm
You do what you think (and feel) is right. You’ll be glad someday.
5
Semicolon
// May 7, 2008 at 2:23 pm
Been watching Carrier on PBS with the wife. It’s been eight years since I was in uniform, and eleven since I was haze grey and punching holes in the sky. So she asks me if I still miss it. I thought about it for a microsecond and said yes…
It fades, but never goes away.
6
Byron Audler
// May 7, 2008 at 2:28 pm
Sir, think of all the young people that it fell to you to bring those Naval Aviation secrets to, or Navy in general. Think of the impact you made upon all those who crossed your wake. Yes sir, when the hand came out of the water, the hole filled quickly…but there was less water than before the hand left. It’s not often that a man of such wit and wisom comes this way, and when he leaves, a loss will be felt.
It’s a bit sad to leave it, after such a full life. But that time does come. You’ll have new challenges and you’ll triumph over them like you’ve always done. I’m just proud to have been here to listen and learn, sir. And anxious of the day when you finally tire of entertaining us mere mortals.
7
Steeljaw Scribe
// May 7, 2008 at 2:31 pm
Lex:
Like anything else there’s goods ‘n others about life on the other side. Perspective shifts, but ingrained habits don’t and most will serve just as well in career #2. Am assuming you’re doing a ceremony - best way to thank all those (especially SWMBO) for their help/support/ along the way and recognize friends who’ve gone ahead of us. Remember, you’re leaving the best way possible - your terms, your time and without engaging in a knife throwing contest with the Bureau…
Stay involved locally w/Tailhook, Navy League, etc. Great way to keep a finger on the pulse and find ways to help those who are on active duty.
And roger the tax deal too…(one of the ‘others’)
-SJS
8
SSG Jeff (USAR)
// May 7, 2008 at 2:31 pm
It’s interesting to compare that to how quickly I was able to fill out and submit my paperwork requesting discharge & transfer to the IRR under a “we’ll pay you to leave because we have too many of you” program. And then I got to do it again a few days later (on Christmas Eve no less) because they went and added something to the paperwork. Perhaps it had something to do with who was President in 1998 as well.
But 12 years isn’t 30 - not by a long shot, and after 9 years in the same rank, and no immediate prospects for promotion (that finally started happening for those who remained a couple years later), it just wasn’t hard to sign off on it. Even if I did get chewed out by the First Sergeant for not getting the permission of everyone (none of whom were there) above me first…. permission wasn’t required, he was just pissed I hadn’t asked anyway.
And here I am, back in the green again. Spent 3 days in Yakima, WA last weekend in order to spend about 20 minutes total firing an M16.
… ah, the Army.
9
MissBirdlegs in AL
// May 7, 2008 at 2:32 pm
Yes, Sir! It was important! You have me in tears. All the best, Lex!
10
satch
// May 7, 2008 at 2:43 pm
You’ll miss it … kind of like when you got your zipper, never to return to the JO mafia. It’s sad, but you move on and other things start to fill the void. But boy, on those cold crisp cloudless days …
11
CJ
// May 7, 2008 at 2:51 pm
Fair Winds and Following Seas Captain……
12
FbL
// May 7, 2008 at 2:51 pm
Been wondering when exactly the day would be, but was afraid to ask.
Yes, Miss Birdlegs. Tears here, too. Don’t have the right words to go with them, though. Back to those two that are never enough: Thank you.
A civilian salute, for what it’s worth. The Navy’s loss… and by extension, ours.
13
rich
// May 7, 2008 at 3:17 pm
Will there be a band playing, along with speeches
and a review of the sailors and transfer of the
command to your successor, speeches and the
colors struck and a certain protocol must be observrd as well in front of an audience of diginitaries and comrades and the salutes of men at arms and guns to mark this occassion,
paying great tribute to a man who has served his country well and to honor his sacrifices.
A fine man, commander, shipmate, and aviator.
14
Kris, in New England
// May 7, 2008 at 3:25 pm
Tears here too - beautifully and artfully written Lex - of course. We’ve come to expect - and eagerly anticipate - nothing less.
I echo Buck - thank you so much for your years of commitment to your country. We are better for it. I’m sure you have inspired hundreds, probably closer to thousands, with your dedication and passion. They will carry on your traditions and pass them along. It’s how it works.
And your new company? I wonder, do they know how fortunate they are?
15 Fuzzilicious Thinking // May 7, 2008 at 3:54 pm
Hanging it Up…
At this point, I’m supposed to find eloquent words summing up 30 years of honorable service to one’s country, but those words fall somehow beyond my reach right now.
Does the man make the uniform or the uniform make the man? Probably a little of b…
16
Tailspin
// May 7, 2008 at 4:09 pm
hand SALUTE!
17
Jim C
// May 7, 2008 at 4:15 pm
Lex,
What an unbelievable post. Thank you sir for 30 selfless years! As SJS said though; at least it’s on your terms. Better that it’s that than forced out because of health concerns or any number of other reasons.
On the other hand, if getting out is that hard to do… maybe waving off isn’t such a bad idea.
God bless Sir,
Jim C
18
rpl
// May 7, 2008 at 4:28 pm
Lex:
I add my voice to the others: great post, and I wish you the best.
19
Us
// May 7, 2008 at 4:36 pm
Sir,
We’ve got this. We’ll take care of things. We always will.
We were here before you, we’ll be here long after. Your ship shall not find the shoals for lack of a Captain, nor shall your affairs be left in disarray.
You may leave, but you will not leave us. We shall always remember your leadership, your courage, your eloquence. You retire, but you sail and fly with us forever.
V/R,
Your Navy
20
Nose
// May 7, 2008 at 4:37 pm
You will like it on this side, not love it. No matter who you work for/with, you will never have the same amount of reliability and dependability from those around you.
Here are the goods: Like SJS said, your terms. Friend of mine, you know him, just had a “sans band change of command” for a lapse. You were pretty sure when you got your last trap that it was your last trap. You KNEW when you got your last night trap that it was your last night trap.
And, most importantly, there is no taps and flyover at your last official Navy function. We all have friends who went out when they weren’t ready, before their time.
Here are the things I’ve learned:
-You don’t need a pony-tail to feel like your hair is long.
-You will meet more and more folks who are not from your squadron/ship/Academy class and they are pretty cool. (Plus, you get to recycle all your old sea stories!)
-Your family will like having you home. Permanently.
Don’t lose track of your friends (you don’t have “The NMCI Global” anymore). Work hard to maintain those relationships - it’s easy to let them slip.
I got a SAN layover later in the month. How’s about a night out with your fans?
Congratulations my friend. Thanks for the hard work.
Nose
21
blackeagle603
// May 7, 2008 at 4:39 pm
Ah ya’ll are getting all symp’y and sappy. I understand the chicks but geez guyz…
Give the man a towel snap, some friendly male smack talk and a boot in his 6 to get rolling on next, bigger, better.
Me, I can’t wait to see what that’ll be.
22
John
// May 7, 2008 at 4:42 pm
Lex- You have done your duty. Well!
You have trained those you leave behind. Well!
Your time in the Navy cockpit is over, but you have found a way to keep flying, so enjoy that.
Your family deserves the same attention and devotion now that you have given the Navy for these many years. Perhaps they are even overdue for their share, so let there be no regrets about putting the uniform aside for the last time.
It sounds like your prospective second career will provide the esssential job satisfaction, as well as reasonable compensation for your talent and time, and that the leadership there may share your devotion and passions. If not, there is no detailer pulling the strings of your fate, and you can chase other dreams. A civilian job is merely a job, and never forget that. If the job satisfaction is no longer there, you should not be either.
Enjoy youre retirement. Repeat, ENJOY your retirement doing the things that you, and especially the family, want to do.
Old age will eventually creep up on you (no matter how hard you protest) so do the stuff now while you still have the time and physical ability to do it.
You have done your duty. Well.
You have earned the rewards that come with that, and there should never be any guilt about enjoying them.
Thank you for your service, we are all the better for it.
Thanks for the blog as well, and we hope to share your enjoyment of life as long as you are willing to let us join you. And, we hope it is fun for a LONG time!
THANK YOU!
23
Lee
// May 7, 2008 at 4:55 pm
Two blasts.
One blast.
Two blasts.
Three blasts.
24
John of Argghhh!
// May 7, 2008 at 4:56 pm
I was ready to go.
Really.
And I really, really, really, wish I hadn’t.
But, no one is indispensable, as you well know.
So go ahead and stick your fist in the bucket.
Welcome aboard, sailor.
Grey isn’t so bad, once you get used to it.
And you have to make room for the young ‘uns.
Depending on what you choose to do - you can still serve, still make a difference.
And like Bill - hell, you can still keep it in the game.
Or like me - help ‘em make the tools for the ones who carry the burden a smidge better.
But there’s no shame in walking away to something different.
Remember - it’s *retainer* pay.
Hold on to that.
This old warhorse still paws the ground when the bugles sound.
I just fight different foes, on different battlefields.
We’ve got their back.
Even as bloggers.
25
Humble1390
// May 7, 2008 at 5:11 pm
It’s only MAY!! Last coat of shoe polish two months out?!?!? Sh!#bag.
If you’re not willing to uphold the standards and highest traditions of the Naval Service, perhaps it’s time for you to start working on that handicap and let us young’uns take the con.
26
SJBill
// May 7, 2008 at 5:19 pm
Captain,
Sorry to see you go, and happy at the same time.
Sir, after all these years, I still wake up and tell my wife, “I was underway last night - and the sea, it was gorgeous.” You’ll be saying the same thing until the end of your days.
I hoist a glass your way, tonight!
Best, Sir!
27
xairboss
// May 7, 2008 at 5:20 pm
Lex:
Thanks for bringing back the memories of past times and decisions. To all of you, thanks for your kind comments about Lex and others who serve.
28
JoeC
// May 7, 2008 at 5:21 pm
Man, I’m with blackeagle603 above. I did my 6 and transitioned. I think its time for man talk here.
1) You are going to miss the good stuff you remember. The bad stuff (like the JP in the drinking water or the broken shower for the 10th day in a row) tend to fade into the mist.
2) Just hope you took enough pictures to remember the good stuff. (too late now. )
3) You’ll look back and say “I’m glad I transitioned.” You were probably getting stale after 30 years. Its far time to face the unfamiliar and learn something new.
4) NO. YOU CAN’T SEND ‘em to jail for telling you which side of the rolling donut to take a flying leap at. Its a barely CIVILIAN world you’re heading to. (CIVIL world?)
5) Once you’ve transitioned once you’ll say “That wasn’t so bad. Maybe I’ll do it again!”
6) You may look back and say “That’s the best thing that ever happened to me. Especially if you were getting bored and stale. (Aside: When H.P. forcibly transitioned me to the rest of my life due to “redeployment”, it became that “best thing that ever happened” moment for me.)
7) Maybe you should have gone to that “Managing Change Seminar”…….
9) If you have made good friends, it is doubly important to get their addresses (email if nothing else) right AND KEEP IN CONTACT. It’ll help those “why in the world did I do that?” moments. (Another aside: The military is sorta like a man and his mother. He spends 9 months (30 years) trying to get out…. and the rest of his life trying to get back in.) Its a warm comfortable place being on the “inside”. But you only really begin to grow when you make a change.
Oh. BTW. Thanks again for your blog and sharing a bit from that side of the fence. You have a bright future and you still have time to change at least somebody’s world. Good luck on your new opportunity and don’t forget the rest of us voyeurs who get a glimpse of someone else’s life.
29
MajHarvey
// May 7, 2008 at 5:40 pm
Fair winds and following seas and all that… you know we’ll still be looking in on you here from time to time - tho’ we’ll now have to settle for the hazy remembrances of a “former Naval aviator,” such as they are. “Course, if they’re anything as good as your “Rhythms” installments, I for one can’t wait…
30
Skippy-san
// May 7, 2008 at 5:43 pm
“Remember - it’s *retainer* pay.”
Someone needs to tell the Supreme Court that…………
Great post. I know exactly how you feel. At least you have the advantage of living in a place you like-and I suspect that over time you are going to own some company yourself.
31
Bill
// May 7, 2008 at 6:11 pm
Captain,
Have you looked at CUBIC? I’m sure that you flew on one or more of the ranges. Check out Cubic.com when you have a chance.
Good luck. Fair winds and following seas.
32
TwoFiveZulu
// May 7, 2008 at 6:12 pm
I Was a Sailor Once
I liked standing on the bridge wing at sunrise with salt spray in my face and clean ocean winds whipping in from the four quarters of the globe
I liked the sounds of the Navy - the piercing trill of the boatswains pipe, the syncopated clangor of the ship’s bell on the quarterdeck, the harsh, strong language and laughter of sailors at work. I liked the tempo of a Navy band playing Anchors Aweigh.
I liked Navy ships; from the plodding fleet auxiliaries & service ships like the Oilers and Ammo ships to sleek Submarines and those steady, solid Cruisers and Carriers.
I liked the proud names of Navy Carriers: Midway, Lexington, Saratoga, Coral Sea, Lake Champlain, Valley Forge - - memorials of great battles won and tribulations overcome. Wasp, Hornet, Constellation – memorials of the original Navy and their triumphs.
I liked the lean angular names of Navy “tin-cans” and escorts like Spruance & Maddox - mementos of heroes who went before us.
And the solid cruiser names like Atlanta, Los Angeles, St. Paul, and Chicago named for our cities, down to the amphibs named for counties like Harlan County and Middlesex County
I liked liberty call and the spicy scent of a foreign port.
I even liked the never ending paperwork and all hands working parties as my ship filled herself with the multitude of supplies, both mundane and vital, to cut ties to the land and carry out her mission anywhere on the globe where there was water enough to float her.
I liked the sailors…officers and enlisted men from all parts of the land, farms of the Midwest, small towns of New England, from the cities, the mountains, the prairies, the swamps & the deserts…from all walks of life. I trusted and depended on them as they trusted and depended on me - for professional competence, for comradeship, for strength and courage. In a word, they were “shipmates”; then and forever.
I liked the surge of adventure in my heart, when the word was passed: ”Now Hear This” or “Now set the special sea and anchor detail - all hands to quarters for leaving port”, and I liked the infectious thrill of sighting home again, the bright bunting of signal flags snapping at the yardarm and sailors “manning the rail” in dress uniforms, and the waving hands of welcome from family and friends waiting pier side.
I liked the feel of the Navy in darkness - the masthead and range lights, the red and green navigation lights and stern light, the pulsating phosphorescence of radar repeaters - they cut through the dusk and joined with the mirror of stars overhead. And trust me, you can’t begin to know how many stars there are in the sky until you’ve seen the night sky a thousand miles from the nearest city.
I liked drifting off to sleep lulled by the myriad noises large and small that told me that my ship was alive and well, and that my shipmates on watch would keep me safe.
I liked quiet mid-watches with the aroma of strong coffee — the lifeblood of the Navy permeating everywhere, and I liked hectic watches when the exacting minuet of haze-gray shapes racing at flank speed kept all hands on a razor edge of alertness.
I liked the sudden adrenaline rush of “General quarters, general quarters, all hands man your battle stations,” followed by the hurried clamor of running feet on ladders and the resounding thump of watertight doors slamming shut as the ship transformed herself in a few brief seconds from a peaceful workplace to a weapon of war — ready for anything.
I liked the juxtaposition of space-age equipment manned by youngsters clad in dungarees and using sound-powered phones that their grandfathers would still recognize
I liked the traditions of the Navy and the men and women who made them. I liked the proud names of Navy heroes: Halsey, Nimitz, Perry, Farragut, John Paul Jones and Burke. A sailor could find much in the Navy: comrades-in-arms, pride in self and country, mastery of the seaman’s trade. An adolescent could find adulthood.
But most of all I liked the sea in all its moods – from the impossible shimmering mirror calm of the Pacific at dawn, to the awesome sight of green water surging over the bow driven by a howling 150 knot typhoon wind. I liked the serenity of the sea after a day of hard ship’s work, sitting on the deck watching as flying fish flitted across the wave tops and sunset gave way to night. I liked sitting on the fantail at night watching our wake sparkle and glow in greens and yellows behind us as we ran through patches of luminescent algae.
Gone ashore for good, I’ve grown humble about my Navy days, when the seas were a part of me and a new port of call was always just over the horizon. But now and again something triggers a memory and there will come a faint whiff of stack gas, an echo of engine and rudder orders, a refrain of hearty laughter in the wardroom and chief’s mess and on the mess decks.
And smiling, I stand a little taller and say, “I was a sailor once.”
GMTC - USN (Ret)
33
AW1 Tim
// May 7, 2008 at 6:17 pm
Lexm
I agree with what John of Aegghhh! says.
My first day iut of the gate was just like a day on leave. It wasn’t until i realised that i was NOT going to put on that uniform again that it hit me.
Some of the best times of my life, and it’s very true. the good times are always in the tray ready to use. The bad ones go into a file buried somewhere deep. Every now and then they come up for air, but not too often. It’s better that way.
The grey hair ain’t so bad. Just don’t wear red, especially ’round Christmas
Most of all, I miss the flying, and the comraderie, and the knowladhe that I was part of something important. You are very right on that last part. You’ve done something to be very proud of, and something that no man can ever take away from you. You speak true about those wings of gold. No one who hasn’t gone through the effort to earn them will never fully understand their value.
Thanks for everything, Captain. When you get up to Maine, you understand that the beer is on me…..
You’ll do just fine. Honest
34
AW1 Tim
// May 7, 2008 at 6:30 pm
TwoFiveZulu,
Yeah, you nailed it. i remember well the first time I went to sea. It was with a helo det on an FFG. That first night I was so ired i just drifted off. A couple nights later i couldn’t sleep so i went up to the flight deck, and was awed by the heavens.
I can still smell the JP, the smell of the berthing compartments, and the background noise. There is a tang to the salt air that brings a freshness with it. Here in Maine, I am still close enough to the coast to smell it, and sometimes i go down to the beach just to hear the surf and smell the ocean. It never really goes away, not when it’s in the blood like that.
And yeah….. I miss it to, even the mundane things, because like you said, what Lex said, it all mattered. it was important. It counted for something more than the work i do today.
Thanks for that great post, Chief!
35
Anymouse
// May 7, 2008 at 6:54 pm
There is that which you know, and the witch that knows what you wish.
36
ChrisP
// May 7, 2008 at 7:16 pm
Capn,
Thanks for your service. Your life will change drastically in many ways. It will NEVER be the same again, but it’s up to you to make better, or worse. After reading you for this long, I have no doubt that you will make better for you and yours.
I still have some old fatigues from the ’60s in the Cedar-Chest. I just can’t find it in myself to throw them away. They will never be useful for anything ever again, but they are a link back to a time when things were different. They are a reminder of “what if” one had chosen a different path. I had some serious high scores on the (What was called at the time AFQT - Armed Forces Qualification Test), and they told me “You can do anything you want to do”. I wanted to fly Hueys. Oops, sorry, your vision sucks, choose something else. I was a Cannon-Cocker. Reality sucks.
If I was even 20 years younger, I’d be in the ’stan, but I’m an old busted-up 60 year-old guy thinking I’ve ‘missed it’. You got to be “In the Show” and God bless you for it!
Thanks, again for your service.
Hugs to the “hobbit”!
ChrisP
37
xformed
// May 7, 2008 at 7:41 pm
Yeah, what they said…
And it will havew a different feel, when you don’t 24/7 with people and handle ALL the issues that come the way of those who serve, and to those around them.
It’s something that binds us, yet is not found except in that environment. Rest assured, the skills, now subconscious to you, will help others around you grow…like you have some “magic” to how you handle things, yet they just don’t understand how it was ingrained in you also, so many years ago.
New challenges lie ahead, buttressed firmly by the foundation 30 (34) years has provided you.
If you please, when it does happen, please share with us the speech given by the person you select as your retirement ceremony speaker. We can’t all be there (tho the Lex Babes will hock all to try), and (I think I speak for many) we would appreciate reading/hearing it.
(Secret assignment to FbL: VIDEO IT!!!!!)
You’re not done by a long shot serving, as John pointed out. Keep us cut in, and let us know when we can help.
38
Jim Shawley
// May 7, 2008 at 8:09 pm
Lex: Anytime you find yourself at M17, Bolivar MO, holler; the $150.00 hamburger will be on me.
25Z: I don’t know what to say. Just, “thanks, shipmate”. I too miss the stars and the sea. I hope you don’t mind me borrowing your post to put on my facebook.
39
Grumpy
// May 7, 2008 at 8:10 pm
Lex, THANK YOU, for your service to this Great Nation. THANK YOU, for this blog. Everybody wants everything to stay the same, but that is not the way it is supposed to be. Change is normal. But, if you look at it, it is surface change. Our lives, in many ways, are like the sea. The surface sea changes on rather normal basis, but the deep sea has a mind of its own, separate from the surface. The clothes may change, relationships may change, habits may change but deep down is your spirit, it is like the constant of the deep sea.
God Speed,
Grumpy
40
Jimmy J.
// May 7, 2008 at 8:20 pm
35 years now since I retired. I remember the feelings even today. It’s a loss. A loss of everything you are , everything you’ve believed in, and loss of an extended family.
It takes time to process. There is grief to deal with and anxiety about the future. Many roads are open to you and you’ve chosen one. Is it right? Will it be something you can get your teeth into? Will you be able to grow?
It’s like an instrument approach. You can’t see the future, you have to just trust your training and instincts knowing you are on course, on glideslope for now. If it doesn’t work out you can always abort and try something new.
You’ve got a talent for writing. If you enjoy it, you have some stories to tell that many people would love to read. If nothing else you owe it to your kids and grandkids to write down something about your life and career that they don’t know. It would be a gift of priceless value.
Thanks for a career of service well done. And thanks for a great blog.
“Ten hut…….hand salute…..Captain departing!”
41
Sgt. B.
// May 7, 2008 at 8:51 pm
He stood next to his M1114, his rifle slung upside down in the tactical carry that the Army had adopted. His eyes, their corners creased by time and too many miles, watched the two specks climbing high over the desert floor.
F/A-18s… Super Hornets… The sight of them brought a smile to his lips. Good birds… Great pilots… Saved his butt a time or three…
He thought back to the thousands of words written by a Naval Aviator, a fighter jock, who wielded the language like an artist’s brush.
How many posts concerning duty to God and country had influenced his decision to get back into the saddle while he still could. Many of the arguements struck chords in his soul, and strengthened his resolve to get back in the Game. To his mind, he was just continuing the mission, taking the torch from those who had to leave the Game and carrying it forward.
He wore the pixilated sage ACUs of the Army, but under his IBA, in his left breast pocket, was a brass coin bearing the insignia of an Eagle, a Globe, and an Anchor - “Once a Marine, always a Marine.”
The F/A-18s had receded into mere specks, and he watched them for a moment.
“Semper Fi, Lex.” he murmered…
“Saddle up!” he shouted to the soldiers who milled around their vehicles, waiting for the word.
Rhythms, he thought, big or small… More wise contemplations…
“You ain’t just whistling Dixie, Skipper…” he said to nobody in particular…
Rhythms ideed.
42
Kevin
// May 7, 2008 at 11:01 pm
Better to have 2 packages on your desk than just one.
Look at the bright side. No more flight physicals and the probing that entails. Or maybe you liked that part.
43
Yankee Sailor
// May 7, 2008 at 11:16 pm
Though the hole in the water disappears, it’s forever changed for the experience. In your case, Cap’n, I dare say it’s changed for the better.
Good luck, brother, and well done.
You know where to find us….
44
fliterman
// May 8, 2008 at 1:22 am
“To everything, there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven…”
Godspeed!
45
Skippy-san
// May 8, 2008 at 3:13 am
I’d like tp set the record straight about the Sweden Attache. You could do it. The bast##ds in PERS -43 forget that you have to be able to complete DLI +Attache training + the full tour before you hit statuotry retirement. DIA will demand that.
Kevin Scott though, is too stupid to understand that.
46
Skippy-san
// May 8, 2008 at 3:18 am
I’d like tp set the record straight about the Sweden Attache. You could do it. The bast##ds in PERS -43 forget that you have to be able to complete DLI +Attache training + the full tour before you hit statuotry retirement. DIA will demand that.
When they tell you that you have to do an IA before doing that, they are lying. Then again, considering who holds the PERS-43 chair right now, I expect nothing less than deceit. He’s totally useless.
Yes I said it, totally useless. Pass it on to him if you wish. I hate the man.
47
Jessica
// May 8, 2008 at 3:33 am
Thank you Lex for giving our Youth someone remarkable for them to aspire to be like. My 5 year old son tells me almost every day, “Mommy, I want to be an F-18 pilot and an Astronaut.” Most would laugh at this little guys aspirations. But I smile,pat him on the back and say, “Son, you can be anything your heart desires and if your really want to be an astronaut, well, you have to be a pilot 1st and I’ll bet you would be a fine one at that!” His face just lights up and he nods his head in agreement. He really believes in the encouragement that is being given and in himself because of it. Lex, you have certainly accomplished much through out your Naval Career from what you have shared in times past I know for sure that you have certainly lived up to and beyond what your father instilled in you long, long ago! I think we all know he would be so proud to see the honorable man that you have become through your experiences! Thank you Lex for sharing such a wonderful part of your life with us. Thanks for being such an inspiration to others. I hope that my son will one day grow up to live out his aspirations and dreams as you have, thanks for being such a terrific role model.
48
Kris, in New England
// May 8, 2008 at 4:07 am
Oh and one more thing Lex - how long after you bid adieu to your first career, do you start your 3rd, concurrent with the 2nd. That being - a published author.
I already got my signed manuscript; but you did agree to a signed book on your tour…
49
Kevin
// May 8, 2008 at 5:08 am
FWIW, my current boss (USA type) was Attache to Denmark. Sounds like he loved the job. No paybacks that I’m aware of, but that was a few years ago. I’ll hook you up with him if you have any ? about the job. The DIA training sounds like it was pretty damn cool too.
50
Navig8r
// May 8, 2008 at 5:50 am
Lex,
I still miss the reveille watch, strong Quartermaster coffee and hot cinnamon rolls fresh from the night baker. But like you I didn’t stray far from the fold. I still support my shipmates, working acquisition for OSD.
Remember my 2 criteria for any job that I take. It must be 1) Interesting; and, 2) Important.
Sounds like yours is both.
51
David M
// May 8, 2008 at 7:01 am
No matter when we served or for how long, if you truly loved your job in spite of all of its faults you’ll forever miss it and wonder if you should have stayed in, but at some point we all have to go, and realize that they will do just fine without us old farts hanging around. You’ve done your job, trained the replacement, passed on the wisdom…now it’s someone else’s time to be the “Old Man.”
I know what you’ll think about when you glance upon that uniform in the closet, even after another 20 years of seeing it hang there - moving it to each new house and placing it in “its spot.”
You’ll think of those who didn’t come back and those who did. You’ll think of those you should call and those whose names you can’t remember but still call them: brother, shipmate, a fellow man-at-arms and you’ll ask yourself, why didn’t I stay longer? It may not have been perfect but it was important.
And that my friend is a whole lot more than most of America can say they have ever done. Thank you for your service to our Country and in your dedication to making it important and meaningful.
52
David M
// May 8, 2008 at 7:26 am
The Thunder Run has linked to this post in the - Web Reconnaissance for 05/08/2008 A short recon of what’s out there that might draw your attention, updated throughout the day…so check back often.
53
Subsunk
// May 8, 2008 at 8:05 am
All your other friends have said it so well.
You will miss it. You will miss the sea spray, the roar of the engines, the stars above, the straining at the tether over every attack on your country.
But most of all, you will miss the Men and Women you served with. The good ones, the bad ones, the funny ones, the quiet ones. The junior enlisted men covered in grease and grime who just completed the dirtiest job they ever had, so your plane could vault into the air and join the fray, or the ship get underway, their eyes twinkling and their smiles blinding when you recognize their achievements and contributions to the effort. The new JO who fumbles around trying to find his place and learn the routines with only a few kind words from you as his mentor, or a swift, but fair, kick in the ass from you as his CO. You will miss the silent approval from the Man when you execute his orders and save him some embarassment or extra work because it was you who did so, and not Jim Smuckatelli, whom you and the Captain wouldn’t trust as far as you could throw him.
And you will miss coming home to Chief of Lex Operations from a long time away and seeing that she is thrilled to have you home, but she knows what you were doing made you the most important Man in the world to your country. Oh, she will still love you coming home, and you will still be the most important Man in the world, but her audience will seem smaller than before because the rest of us won’t be a part of that. Love her the less, or wonder on whether she has changed, do not, lest you find that it is you who is truly diminished and not she. I know I needn’t tell you that, but I wish someone had told me before now.
And yet, now that it is time, you will look forward to it as if you were the George Ensign reporting to your first command. Life takes us ever onward, and (hopefully) ever upward. The fresh start is always hopeful and always seems worthy. You can’t fail. So don’t worry about that. You went where the Navy sent you. Now go where Life sends you.
You’re a Good Man, CAPT Lex. The horizon is clear, the weather is fair, and all points of the compass are open. There aren’t any really bad directions from here on out. Remember where you came from. Go where you are headed. And never dwell on a wake that’s gone 15 minutes after you’ve passed.
Congratulations on a new start. You’ve been a Man for a long time. Now pass it on.
Subsunk, out.
54
Rick
// May 8, 2008 at 8:16 am
Lex,
It will be different, but you’ll get used to it and you’ll always have the memories. Thanks for your service and sharing your stories on the blog.
TwoFiveZulu,
Thanks for the memories. Shoot, I even liked some Shore Patrol watches.
The stars over the Pacific on a moonless night are nothing short of spectacular.
David M,
Absolutly right. I’ve been out almost 30 and my uniform still hangs in the closet.
55
jpr
// May 8, 2008 at 8:22 am
Thanks for your service, sir. When one door closes, another opens. Good luck to you.
56
b2
// May 8, 2008 at 8:36 am
Back just in time from outCONUS to see this!
Wow. Just reading through all that advice above and remembering what’s been documented here on this blog since you first started “smelling the barn” a coupla years back, is all “priceless”. The folks have come out fer ya Lex.
All that advice is good stuff not just for you but others who visit here approaching the same “state”. Trust me You”ll adapt just like you adapted 1000 times since since you left home for CanoeU. You are one in a long line of those “round-headed”, good natured, courageous, pink-faced Naval Officers Patrick O’Brien wrote about….
Bucket of water? Sure, but trust me, you’ll be missed. Personally heartened to see you’ll still be on the team, albeit in a different role. Was sorta scared you’d head off to Colorado to be a smoke jumper or some such!
Like to read a copy of yer farwell speech. I’ll correct fer any gramma mistakes!
b2
57
Minos
// May 8, 2008 at 8:41 am
Bravo Zulu, Captain, and thank you.
For your years of service, your blog, your wisdom, your mentorship of all those who came in your wake who keep us safe in our beds at night and our seas free for peaceful commerce, the exchange of people and ideas, and the meeting of cultures.
This was such a beautifully bittersweet post, that all I can offer is my thanks, and the hope that like the first mariner who sailed out of sight of land, that you’ll find that next shore at which you make port to be as rich as the one you left behind.
You may not still be in the navy, but that uniform belongs on your shoulders for life. Never be ashamed to pull it out of the closet; you’ve earned that honor, and the respect it garners.
58
xformed
// May 8, 2008 at 8:56 am
Ever the man graced with humility, I just noted (I know, I’m slow on the uptake sometimes…) that author categozied this post as “small stuff.”
Geez…like we’d agree…
And to the commenters: Posts like this allow me to gather lots of excellent advice to stash away, as well as some excellent sea stories to smile about. So thanks to you all, as well!
And along comes, Skippy, too.
59
Jim C
// May 8, 2008 at 9:55 am
Sgt. B,
Pretty good start to a story sounds like. You ever thought of putting that down in a post or on paper?
Lex,
There are still plenty of ways to help and support your shipmates outside of work. This blog is a good example. Shaping public opinion on the Navy and the GWOT. Gathering support and passing it on to the men and women still in the fight… Plenty of ways you can stay in the game sir.
Jim C
60
Wedge D
// May 8, 2008 at 10:17 am
Can only second all the thanks and congrats on your honorable and exemplary service. While I didn’t make a career of the nav, after 30 years out I still feel in. Can only imagine what 30 in feels like. Bravo Zulu!
61
xformed
// May 8, 2008 at 10:28 am
Jim C;
Sgt B has already been writing, but you’d have to have paid attention to catch it some time back (…and him telling me in person didn’t hurt, either)…maybe its found really close you you as you read this, merely a tab away.
62
H. S. Normal
// May 8, 2008 at 10:40 am
Lex;
When you pull your hand out of the bucket, the hole does disappear. But the overall level of water in the bucket goes down. With some people further than others (because some never raised the level that much in the first place). You raised the level a lot.
Well Done! for the past thirty years — and look forward to the next thirty.
63
Mike D.
// May 8, 2008 at 11:18 am
I believe this quote was from Gen. Pace
“It’ll be very difficult for me to walk away,” he said. “I was shaking hands the day before yesterday in Afghanistan and a soldier came through and said, ‘Sir, thank you for your service. We’ll take it from here.’ As I look at you, that’s spot on. You have taken it.”
Best of luck to you and the family.
64
Diplopius Disqualificata
// May 8, 2008 at 11:54 am
I didn’t make it to my commissioning so I appreciated the insights of an officer who understood that it was his *privilege* to serve. Given your bragging rights, you’ve made the “H” in “YHS” count for more than a formality and it’s made for an enjoyable experience. I know your new gig won’t give much by way of new sea stories, but I hope it gives the time for you to continue this blog.
Thank you for your service and, as others have noted above, congratulations on leaving on your own terms. The other ways all suck.
65
thebronze
// May 8, 2008 at 12:27 pm
CAPT Lex, congratulations and thanks for serving.
Best wishes in your retirement. If you’re like me, I miss it, but I’m glad its done.
66
Bruce Jones
// May 8, 2008 at 6:18 pm
I agree with what everybody else has said, both the Buck Ups and the Bravo Zulus.
Been trying to think up something that hasn’t already been said, but the only thing that’s coming to mind is a paraphrase of the conversation Simon Tam had with Mal when he first came aboard Mal’s ship: your weekend job may not have the satisfaction or import of taking your Hornet(s) feet dry, but it’ll be fun, and you’ll probably give more than a few budding pilots the incentive and advice to follow in your footsteps, and measure up.
It’s enough.
67
GeoSTI
// May 8, 2008 at 6:27 pm
Well sir, many of us are in the same group, with the end of (official) education and getting punted into the “real world”. Scary to know that it will happen again.
Good Luck!
And a Sys Eng to boot! Any texts slaved through that involve a published professor with the last name of Malakooti?
68
Steve
// May 9, 2008 at 6:08 am
Lex,
Best wishes and thanks for your service. You’ve done 5 years for each one I did, so it will likely take longer, but gradually the Navy will become more of a memory than an identity. Until you find some blog that reminds you of everything proud and unique and meaningful and great about it, and lets you relive the best experiences. Thanks for that, too.
69
Snake Eater
// May 9, 2008 at 6:09 am
Lex, Again… savor this special time there will never be one quite like it again… congradulations on your new job in the out there…your next great adventure is about to begin. Best
70
lex
// May 9, 2008 at 6:14 am
GeoSTI - Fabrycki, Wolter, Maier, Rechtin, Blanchard - no Malakooti.
Although I would have liked to casually drop in conversation that I had studied Malakooti… The potential for misunderstanding could have been hilarious.
71
GeoSTI
// May 9, 2008 at 1:17 pm
Browsing through a suite mate’s text books, I see some of those names.
Around here, saying that one studied under Malakooti, the great Persian professor, whose handouts and work problems blot out the sun, trains you to sleep only on national holidays.
72
HomefrontSix
// May 9, 2008 at 2:48 pm
Most everyone knows the beginning of Ecclesiastes 3:
There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven:
a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot,
a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build,
a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance,
a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain,
a time to search and a time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away,
a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak,
a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace.
But I doubt that many know the following section:
9 What does the worker gain from his toil? 10 I have seen the burden God has laid on men. 11 He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end. 12 I know that there is nothing better for men than to be happy and do good while they live. 13 That everyone may eat and drink, and find satisfaction in all his toil—this is the gift of God. 14 I know that everything God does will endure forever; nothing can be added to it and nothing taken from it. God does it so that men will revere him.
Verses 12-14 strike me the most. What a gift from God it is to find satisfaction in your toil. To hav