On 4 August 2016, the Navy released a message announcing the eventual elimination of the original Type I Navy Working Uniform (NWU). The uniform, long a subject of wide criticism, was finally being replaced with something more versatile, more breathable, and more well-liked by Sailors who had tried it out. Navy Times praised the fact that we were “dumping the dumbest uniform ever.” Only one small problem seems to have been overlooked by the Navy:
It’s green camouflage.
Having never tried the Type III NWU myself, I trust the claims of my peers that it is more acclimated to warmer temperatures and a better overall fit. But there are some glaring problems with adopting this as our daily working uniform.
Types I and III NWUs in 2010
First, it does not reduce the number of uniforms we need. Most commands do not wear both the Type I and Type III on a routine basis; blue is for “normal” jobs and green is for “expeditionary” jobs (more on this to follow). Pilots will still wear flight suits in their aircraft, and ship drivers will still wear coveralls while underway. Shore commands that do not use NWUs will likely still wear service and dress uniforms. It is true that mandating the use of Type III will increase uniformity; never have I seen a more oxymoronic uniform policy than in Bahrain where the staff officers at NAVCENT (who have an admittedly arduous shore duty) wear the green “expeditionary” Type III while their patrol craft counterparts—the ones actually plying the waters of the Persian Gulf and Strait of Hormuz—walk on the same compound in blue Type I. But uniformity alone is not a good reason to adopt a uniform, and while the Navy’s attempt to reduce the contents of our seabags is praise-worthy, it is not helped by this uniform shift.
This brings me to the real issue: why does the Navy use camouflage as its normal working uniform to begin with? Until the mid-2000s, when each service’s camouflage pattern became a matter of inter-service pride and rivalry, we didn’t even have our own camouflage; neither did any other service for that matter. Camouflage is designed to be worn on a land battlefield to hide from the enemy—that’s why it’s called “camouflage”—and we had a standard pattern that all services used when necessary. The Navy jumped on the bandwagon of digital camouflage patterns—which the Army is already abandoning—in the late 2000s, threw some water-looking colors on it, and left everyone scratching their heads wondering “why?” In the years since, the NWU has become a uniform as often ridiculed for its appearance as for its utility. We have forgotten that we are the NAVY. We don’t need a camouflage uniform—and certainly not a green one at that—to prove that we are expeditionary. Being expeditionary is in our blood as a service. We don’t go on deployments to the Chesapeake Bay or Puget Sound. We sail around the world and interact with its peoples in times of both peace and war. We are meant to make our presence known to would-be aggressors, to keep commerce lanes open and our motives understood. Our warfighting prowess stems from our ability to operate complex technical systems at sea, something a flashy green uniform simply doesn’t facilitate. Most of us don’t try to hide (and for us submariners, at least not in a way where wearing camouflage would help).
That said, the Type III NWU certainly has a place for those Sailors who need it. SEALs, EOD technicians, Seabees, and their supporting personnel all operate in hostile environments on land where the need to blend into the environment is paramount. Those Sailors make a huge contribution to the Force, but they are a very small portion of our people, which is why until camouflage was all the rage in Washington they didn’t have their own pattern. If anyone needs to wear the Type III, it is these men and women—it was designed with them in mind, after all—but reserve it for those who need it. Mandating it for the rest of the Navy creates an artificial feeling of expeditiousness that strays from the true expeditionary nature of the Navy.
Dungarees, per 1984 uniform regulations
We are not Soldiers or Marines; we are professional mariners and naval aviators. We should be wearing uniforms that suit a life at sea, not uniforms that pretend we are all boots on the ground shooting bad guys. For ship drivers and aviators, wearing green camouflage has zero bearing on our warfighting capability as a force. We have different ranks and customs than the rest of the armed services, and we should have uniforms that reflect that. We wear whites and blues that people around the country, even the world, recognize as naval uniforms; why shouldn’t our working uniform be just as identifiable? Our uniforms should tell the story of a service proud of its unique role. If we decide to start wearing green camouflage on ships, then we are telling the nation that we want to be like the Army or the Marines, rather than embracing what makes the Navy special.
If you look at a photo of Sailors in working khakis or dungarees, you instantly recognize them as part of the Navy. Why not bring those back? They identified us as a service, looked the part of the professional mariner, and were still user-friendly enough to wear on a ship. And with a tucked-in shirt, inelastic waistband, and metal rank and warfare insignia, they even looked more professional than what we wear now. We don’t need steel-toed boots that look like combat boots or perfect-looking rolled sleeves to have pride as Sailors, so why do we continue to think otherwise? Implementing the NWU in the first place was a classic case of fixing something that wasn’t broken. Deciding to replace it is a good idea, but Type III is even farther from the Navy’s spirit and a step in the wrong direction. The Navy should ditch camouflage and go back to what makes us proud to be Sailors. After all, who are we hiding from anyway?
