An unlikely success-Part 3

Two years after my fateful visit to the high school guidance office, where I was instructed by a professional educator to give up on getting a college education, I enlisted in the Navy.

From my first day of boot camp, I loved it. I knew that day that I wanted to serve for at least 20 years...but then failure followed me into the Navy too.

I went to bootcamp on September 1st of 1983. Part of the program in military basic training is "attention to detail" They give you detailed instructions, then exercise you a lot, deprive you of sleep, give you an almost impossible schedule to keep, and get you functioning on about four hours of sleep per night. It didn't take long for my dyslexia (that I still didn't know I had) to start acting up. Another major part of the program in basic training is academic training. Classes--just like high school, with tests. Many of these tests were essay tests. So, in this place where they intentionally stress you, and deprive you of sleep, I started flunking tests pretty quick. I flunked out of my orignial company and got set back in basic training for academic failures.

They put me in a temporary personnel unit where I received extra remedial training--which means that someone gave me all the answers--to all the tests--until I memorized them all. I finally got assigned to another company, and graduated a day or two shy of my 18th birthday.

Then I went to technical training in Meridian, Mississippi.

Then I failed out of technical training in Meridian, Mississippi.

Then I got orders to my first ship, and thought of it as yet another fresh start in my short Naval career already riddled with failure.

I ended up going to the USS Oakridge, in Kings Bay, Georgia. In retrospect, I realize now that Oakridge was a dumping ground for Sailors like me: Failures. Oakridge Sailors usually failed somewhere else, and ended up on Oakridge as kind of a "last chance" to make something of themselves in the Navy. Many of my shipmates had been in some kind of disciplinary trouble that resulted in them being taken off their last ship. There were some alcoholics, some drug abusers, lots of thieves, there was even a prostitute, and one who was convicted of dealing drugs. There were a lot of falling stars there, but few rising stars. Needless to say, it wasn't a great place to make friends.

When I reported to the ship, I was assigned to the deck department, which is basically the manual labor pool for the ship. The work was hard, but I liked it. The only complaint I had was that most of the men I worked with were either criminals, mildly retarded, or a little insane.

There were a few exceptions, but not many. My only problem was being dumb, so it was ironic that I would end up on a very short list of "respectable" people on that ship. I had to laugh at the irony—who would have thought?

Who would have thought that a place like this would be a great place for me to turn a corner in my Naval career and start succeeding. I was dumb, but at least I was no criminal--that's why my bosses liked me: Well, that, and because they could tell that I loved the Navy. I loved being a Sailor. I loved putting on my uniform. I loved saluting, standing watches. I voulunteered for everything I could that required marching and close order drill: Things I had been exceptional at since the Sea Cadets. I loved shining my shoes and I had the stories of lots of our Naval Fathers burned into my brain.

In no time, my shipmates had given me the nickname "Lifer". Back then, that was considered an insult, but I liked it.

I was finally off to a good start, and just as my reputation began to grow, I failed the test for promotion to Seaman (E-3). Now, you have to understand: Failing a test for a promotion to E-3 in the Navy in 1984 was like being so dumb that it was entirely possible you'd forget to breathe if someone wasn't there to jab you in the ribs every few seconds. Believe me when I tell you, that I worked with some guys that I considered far dumber than me, but they, unlike me, PASSED the E-3 test.

Great--what now?

I'll tell you what now...now, the Executive Officer (XO) wants to know how you fail a test for E-3!

Since I was the most qualified person to explain it to him, I got the job.

I was terrified. If you have never been in the Navy, let me explain how the culture is on Naval Ships: The chain of command is everything. An officer doesn't speak to a Petty Officer. He speaks to the Chief--then, the Chief speaks to the petty officer. In turn, the petty officer speaks to the leading seaman, and then, finally, the leading seaman chews your ass until performance improves.

I had been on this ship for about six months, and up till today no one above the rank of E-4 had ever spoken to me without cursing. So, now the friggin XO wants to see me?

Wonderful...