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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Thanks for your service, sir. When one door closes, another opens. Good luck to you.
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
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.
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.
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
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!
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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?
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.
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
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.
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.
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 have done that for the better part of 30 years is an incredible blessing. The faith you must have is that God will continue to bless you with the ability to be satisfied in your new job – whatever that may be. Know that there are many of us out here praying for exactly that – that you would continue to find satisfaction in the things you do – both in work and in life.
And I have faith that you will.
here’s what the DH says after 25 in and 20 out:
you will miss it every single day forever.
you will bite your tongue a thousand times when you feel, “Here’s how we did it in the Navy…” coming on
you will be astonished at how rewarding (personally and financially) a well-chosen second career can be…
and appalled at the lack of honor in some and the absence of discipline in many.
Best wishes for fair winds and following seas. And a big BZ for a job well done and service well-rendered.
I’ve been wanting to say something here, Lex. Just not sure exactly what.
What everyone else has said, I suppose. Sounds truly bittersweet, although I sense you’re a bit more aware of the bitter part of the moment.
Fair winds and following seas, sir.
while the hole from your fist may be filled rapidly when you pull it from the bucket, the ripples that it leaves behind will mark your presence for a long time to come.
Shipmate, you stand relieved. We have the watch.
Welcome aboard the readjustment express. Many of the ‘bad’ things you worry about will happen, but so will many of the ‘good’ things.
A lot of those ‘bad’ things will turn out to be good after all.
After this long in uniform, you have a heart to serve and the ‘lack’ of service may be what bothers you most.
There are LOTS of ways to continue serving; many of them not really obvious. So find what works for you and enjoy life!
Don’t be surprised if it takes some time, though. I’m still struggling with the idea of being out of uniform after seven months; and I was ‘only’ a Reservist.
Thanks for your service.