In the "Letter to My Former Self" series, USNA graduates lay out the advice they would give themselves as midshipmen based on their experiences as junior officers in the Navy or Marine Corps. This week's letter was written by ENS Kellie Hall, who is serving on board USS Pinckney (DDG-91), based in San Diego, California.
Let me be frank:
there is in fact life after the Naval Academy. I am writing this letter
from a coffee shop one block from my townhouse and only three blocks from the
beach, as I sit and overlook the palm trees that are highlighted by the
beautiful San Diego sunset.
While at the Academy I was too distracted by six-week exams,
noon meal formations, sports period, company events, and downtown Annapolis to
truly reflect on the idea that I would graduate and eventually join thousands
of Naval Academy alumni to serve as an officer in the fleet. Being officer is
not a myth; it is not some outlandish idea that may or may not happen—it will
happen, I promise—and everything that happens after Induction Day truly affects
how you will react to it.
I found out two weeks before graduation that I would be
meeting my ship for the remainder of its deployment in the Pacific. I read my
orders as I was studying for my last final, thinking “deployment will be like
an extended midshipman cruise, it’ll be fine.” Little did I know I’d be thrown
into USS Pinckney's peak of operations out in 7th Fleet. On July 4th, I packed my sea bag to the brim
and caught a ride to San Diego International Airport to be flown to Guam to
meet my ship for her remaining seven weeks out at sea. Welcome to the Navy.
It was this experience that served as the biggest “reality
check” in my life and in result, generate these words of wisdom from my short
naval career thus far:
You cannot always use
the excuse “I’m an Ensign.”
A multitude of officers and mentors at the Academy told me
“don’t worry, you’re not expected to know anything as a brand new Ensign.”
Within the first twenty-four hours of being on my ship, I was expected to conn.
Not just conn from point A to point B, I would be driving the ship during
“Guamex,” an exercise with eight Japanese vessels used to help increase
interoperability. I quickly realized that I was being trusted as an Ensign to
drive the ship (with the help of my Officer of the Deck) and that my role was
completely imperative to make “Guamex” a successful exercise. No longer was I
conning just an afternoon YP exercise on the Severn before sports period—this
was the real thing. The bridge watch team, standard commands, and the Japanese
Maritime Defense Force were my harsh, new reality and I was expected to know
how to do my job.
Retain the
information you learned at the Naval Academy – and keep your notes!
After four years of sitting in a classroom, thinking “When
am I ever going to need this information?” I wish I could turn back time and
hit myself over the head with a textbook and say, “learn and understand this!
You’ll need to know it to look like a competent Surface Warfare Officer!”
I didn’t take my weapons class seriously; I thought it was
another check-in-the-box course I needed to get through in the Naval Academy’s
curriculum. Navigation was often my last course before the start of my weekend,
so my attention span was at its most minimal level. Then there was
Thermodynamics, my last real hurdle to jump before graduation. Little did I
know that these three classes are the foundation to everything a Surface
Warfare Officer will need to know. Nothing is worse than trying to qualify for
your SWO pin and realizing that you’ve seen all the information before, you
just didn’t retain it the first time. I had many palm-to-forehead moments
during my deployment when I was asked questions about radar, the AC cycle, or
how to calculate “PIM” that I legitimately couldn’t remember but at one
point—before the final exam at the Academy—I did. Don’t let this be you.
My commanding officer often reminded me the reason why those
two gold bars set me apart from the rest of the ship. He said, “There’s a
reason why you make the big bucks. You’re not paid to listen, you’re paid to
think. And you must think about what’s best for the ship.” I was motivated to
learn and relearn what I once forgot because my lack of experience and
knowledge was only hurting our ship’s mission.
Play to your
strengths.
I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not the best Surface
Warfare officer there is. I find myself flustered when the OOD asks me what
sound signal I should utilize or what day shapes need to be up during an
underway replenishment. I’m not the fastest to learn and at 5’2 and 100lbs I
can’t necessarily pull off the intimidating-authority figure persona. But at
the end of the day I know I can do one thing right: utilize my experience in
public affairs to publicize the ship’s successes.
My assignment as my ship’s Public Affairs Officer has been a
true blessing so far because it has given me an opportunity to showcase my
biggest strengths to my Commanding and Executive officers, as well as the rest
of the wardroom and crew. There is no task I am assigned as PAO that is too big
or too small that I won’t try to knock out of the park. I write articles, take
pictures, organize media events, and even orchestrated my ship’s participation
in Fleet Week San Diego. Even though I struggle as a SWO, at least I have one
way to prove I’m still competent.
If you are good at something, showcase it. It will help give
you the confidence boost you need to push through the stress of being a new
ensign.
Be ready to juggle
personal and professional issues.
From the Academy I moved to San Diego and quickly realized I
needed to take out my own trash, cook my own food, and pay bills. I still
struggle to scramble eggs yet I’m trusted by the Navy to drive a multi-billion
dollar warship.
Everything since graduation day has been a challenge,
whether it was putting together IKEA furniture or conning behind an aircraft
carrier at night in the rain. Even though I may not have retained the physics,
calculus, or rules-of-the-road knowledge from the Academy I did learn how to
multi-task, be disciplined, and stay organized. For this, I will forever be
grateful for the Academy and the harsh lessons I had to learn then in order
survive in the fleet now.
Luckily, the Navy does not foster a “sink or swim”
atmosphere. But, if you find yourself sinking and your stress flowing
overboard, I promise you there will be someone to sound those five short blasts
and order an Anderson turn to help get you back on course.
