As a squadron commanding officer, I had to
discharge two otherwise fine Sailors who had "popped positive" on urinalysis
screens for having THC in their systems. They were good kids, from bad
backgrounds - the service had been a lifeline for them, a chance to remove
themselves from bad situations.
And I
had cut that lifeline - sent one back to the gang infested streets of El Paso.
The other returned to East Los Angeles. Truly, my hands were tied.
The Navy has a zero tolerance for drug abuse -
it is the surest ticket out of the service, with an "other than honorable"
discharge. An OTH won't debar you from federal employment like a bad conduct
discharge, nor is it equivalent to a felony conviction, like a court martial
sentence would be. But neither will it move you, by itself, to the "must hire"
queue in any prospective employer's candidate
search.
It was not always
thus.
When I was a third class
midshipman, I cruised aboard a
Spruance
class destroyer, and drug abuse was fairly rampant - this was back in the late
70's, and then, as now, many of our Sailors were products of their time. At
night an officer could head aft to the helo deck, and watch two or three
lounge-abouts flick the burning remnants of a marijuana cigarette over the
fantail, and do nothing about it - nothing at all.
Morale in the 80 man supply
berthing, where we youngster mids made our racks, was terrible - everyone seemed
to hate the Navy, at least among the junior folks - everyone was counting the
days until they could get out. It was a real
eye-opener.
In 1981, an Marine
reserve crew in an EA-6B had a landing mishap (a ramp strike) aboard the USS
Nimitz.
In the mishap itself, and the resulting conflagration, 19 Sailors died. Eleven
were found to have THC in their blood during the
post-mortem.
The Navy got
serious.
Everything in the Navy
depends on teamwork, much of it done around heavy equipment that moves
inexorably at great speed - some pieces of gear and environments I have seen
could not have been better designed had it been done on purpose to claw and rake
at unwary flesh, governed by a diminished mental
capacity.
CNO sent out his famous
"Not in My Navy," missive, and routine drug screening began for the first time.
CO's were given temporary authority under "Project Upgrade" to discharge
malcontents, malingers and ne'er-do-wells immediately. Anyone who swore they
hated the Navy and wanted out as soon as possible was offered the instant
opportunity - some took it gratefully (although these were in fact few), some
were given it without asking.
The
results were dramatic.
The next time
I deployed, this time aboard an LST, the USS
Barbour
County , the difference in morale
was incredible. Everyone knew that we had an unshakeable standard, that there
was no flexibility, no second chances and for those inclined to gripe about
their lot in life, an easy way out - to the ones who wanted to be a part of
something special, an organization that stood for something, this was part of
the proof that they were.
I remember
distinctly the time when a signalman had been found in the act of smoking
marijuana - there was a Captain's Mast, a non-judicial procedure in which the CO
is invested as prosecutor, defense attorney and judge, simultaneously. The
accused was brought before the CO, and forced to stand at attention. We mids had
been asked to watch the process, it being thought good for our professional
education. An LST, designed to work in close proximity to the shore (and in fact
to run up upon it) is a flat-bottomed boat, and in the relatively high seas
between San Diego and San Francisco, our next port stop, she rolled around at an
alarming rate and angle. The poor Sailor, standing at attention, was challenged
to maintain his balance. Some of the junior mids found his efforts to maintain
his footing unbearably humorous, and could not stifle a snigger. The CO wheeled
around on them, and tongue-lashed them with great violence in front of the
entire assembly until they dropped their eyes to their reddening cheeks in
shame.
We got the message - this was
a man's life, about to take a turn very much for the worse. It was nothing to
laugh about.
When I was a young
lieutenant, and division officer, I had a Sailor who was always in trouble, and
worse, who tried to lie his way out of it, transparently, ultimately
unsuccessfully. He came from a broken background, his wife had chronic medical
issues and the CO was resolute - he would be discharged. I thought this unfair
in the larger view, and presented my case to the CO in private. He told me:
"Lex, we've got a job to do. That man is taking up a disproportionate share of
the efforts of a Chief Petty Officer who could be getting that job done, and
training his replacements for the job the Navy will have to do 10 years from
now. While we are debating about him, your Sailors who have a chance to make
something of themselves are wondering where their division officer is. You can't
save them all - some you have to scrape off, for the good of the
service."
After talking with the CO,
I no longer thought it unfair. I thought it
hard.
And I began to realize - it can
be a hard service.
When my turn came
to wear the command pin, I had very much hoped not to have any of my Sailors
fail the drug test, or otherwise fail to demonstrate a pattern of acceptable
performance - These were other peoples sons and daughters, given to me in trust.
They had dreams and goals and aspirations that they thought the Navy could help
them reach. No one joins to be a failure. I tried to love each of them as though
they were my own family, I wanted them all to succeed. Their dreams I tried to
make my own.
Oh, I knew that I could
never save all of them - some come to us with a lifetime of emotional baggage
that cannot be overcome in the short time a Sailor has to prove that he can
perform, or not. We are not a charity, not a half-way house.
But I also considered anyone who had
to leave the service other than on his own terms as much a failure of my
leadership, my ability to reach him and make a citizen of him, as much as his
own failure to measure up.
So when
one particular Sailor, in whom I had invested a deal of personal time and
effort, and who came from a very difficult background, and had been showing
great promise, popped positive on the urinalysis test, I was not angry - I was
sad.
He hadn't gone out with the
idea of getting high - he'd had a few too many drinks, fell into a bad company,
was offered drugs and used them. On Monday morning, his number came up for a
random sweep. In a week's time, he stood before
me.
I've done a number of Captain's
Masts - and I never really enjoyed them. The mask of austere gravity and
dreadful authority that the role required me to wear ill-comported with my
ever-present awareness of my own manifest shortcomings, especially those of my
youth. Some CO's that I have seen were "flamers," those who seemed to enjoy the
humiliation of their accused. They'd scream and rant and gesture.
I was never one of
those.
For this young man, I had
nothing but regret - he and I both knew what he had done, and the penalty it
carried. He and I both knew what he would be returning to, having left the Navy
as a failure. The Navy, a place where the path and means to success is as
brightly illumined as any I can imagine - having failed at this, what could he
expect?
But my hands were tied, and
he knew it - it was for the good of the service.
Posted @
07:00 PM
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Posted in
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Sendit
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Credo
"Sign on, young man, and sail with me. The stature of our homeland is no more than the measure of ourselves. Our job is to keep her free. Our will is to keep the torch of freedom burning for all. To this solemn purpose we call on the young, the brave, the strong, and the free. Heed my call, Come to the sea. Come Sail with me." - John Paul Jones
"Pardon him, Theodotus; he is a barbarian, and thinks that the customs of his tribe and island are the laws of nature" --George Bernard Shaw, "Ceasar and Cleopatra"
"And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music."--Friederich Nietzsche
