I am on the record as believing that the Navy needs to be more naval. Since the end of World War II, the Navy slowly has adapted to being part of something called “the Joint Force,” which is a fancy way of saying “we pay for the Air Force’s golf courses.” Budget experts, don’t @ me.
Recently I walked into the NEX (stick with me on this) and behold, I was presented with a new wonder: it was some kind of black Gore-Tex jacket adorning the mannequin of a chief petty officer (chiefs always get the best gear, am I right?). It looked new, professional, and functional, which is sort of a departure from the last two decades of uniform merry-go-round that we are all used to. Its official name is the “Cold Weather Parka,” and it looked great; but there was one thing about it I did not like.
The jacket continues the recent uniform trend of putting the rank on a little fabric loop that resides dead in the center of mass of the jacket, i.e., in the middle of the wearer’s chest. This fad started with the Army Combat Uniform, an ill-starred affair that since has been updated with various new acronyms and colors. It continued to the Navy’s Type III Navy Working Uniforms, the so-called guacamole to our blueberry. In deciding that a blue camouflage uniform was the wrong uniform all along (surprise), the Navy migrated to a woodland one, which is even more nonsensical if you think about it, and proceeded to add teeny-tiny rank insignia, mostly in black, onto a camo uniform, thus requiring you to really stare at a person’s chest to determine if they rate a “senior” or “master” before “chief.” This setup is poorly suited to the task of allowing our sailors to quickly identify someone’s rank.
Lo and behold, the “rank as little strap on chest” has now found its full-color cousin on these new black jackets and all of that got me thinking: “Why are we doing it this way?”
Tack on the Crows
In the old days, sailors wore their rating badges on their sleeves. With some variation over the years, this usually was on the left sleeve, where you would routinely find a white “crow” perched atop any number of chevrons. From dress whites, to utilities, to foul weather jackets, that crow and those chevrons were distinct, uniquely visible, and traditional.
When the Navy punted (in my opinion) on the Navy Service Uniform, replacing black and/or white uniforms with a combination of khaki and black, it also ditched the sleeve insignia and went with shiny pin on insignia instead, to the confusion of Marines (salty language warning) everywhere.
Those shiny metal pins now are ubiquitous: jackets, ball caps (ugh), and collar devices, symbols of our service’s uniform madness as much as blue camouflage.
In ancient times, when a sailor was promoted or frocked to petty officer, his shipmates (at the time it was not a dirty word) would “tack on” his crow, each of them taking a turn at sewing on his new rank insignia. I imagine the quality of the results would vary, but the symbolism in the process is so appropriate that it is a shame that “tacking on a crow” ever came to represent something much, much more heinous (in that way, it finds kinship with “shipmate,” I suppose).
In my youth as a Navy brat, I saw many a swaggering chief with his rank proudly on display on his or her left arm, and although it may sound overly romantic or sentimental, there was something unmistakably “naval” about the image. Now that imagery is replaced in my mind by a single fouled anchor that could have any number of stars on it when viewed from a respectful distance. My problem is not with the fouled anchor insignia itself, but with the disappearance of the distinct shoulder insignia for chiefs and sailors.
Down with Shrubs
This vanishing act is not confined to enlisted ranks, although the retreat of sewn-on insignia is more recent there. As long ago as the Civil War, naval officers began to trade (or augment) their gold-braided cuffs for the insignia of their landlubber counterparts. To promote what could be called “proto-jointness,” Farragut and his peers added stars, bars, and oak leaves (described as “shrubs” by modern lieutenants) to make their ranks understandable to the vast army they supported. Even then, however, naval officers retained some independence, using a fouled anchor on their shoulder straps to indicate superiority to their earthbound peers.
Over time, as the wear of dress uniforms became more uncommon, the metal insignia adopted from the Army became de rigeur for naval officers too: service khakis, coveralls, and flight suits all sport metal insignia or their cloth counterparts, as do these new-fangled jackets, the classic “Ike” jacket, and others.
Naval officers (and Coasties; love you guys) have unique rank insignia all their own with shoulder boards and sleeve stripes. Harkening back to ancient tradition, these symbols of rank and office are, in my opinion, more elegant, traditional, and more, well, naval, than a yellow shrub.
A Modest Proposal for Uniforms
The Chief of Naval Operations (CNO) has shown his willingness to listen to sailors on uniform matters and adopt new policies on the spot if they make sense. Updated hair standards for female sailors, ponytails-through-ball caps, and authorizing gloves with fleece outwear all have been approved in seconds by the CNO, likely sending his staff into overdrive, but certainly welcomed by the Fleet at large.
So, Admiral Richardson, in that spirit I’d like to request the following (and I guess we can focus group this if you insist; after all I can’t stop you, and it will probably require some feedback beyond a lieutenant commander with ideas):
- Restore sewn-on rating insignia for sailors and chiefs wherever possible. Some examples include, the Ike jacket, the Gore-Tex jacket, the black-and-tan service uniform, the all-weather coat, coveralls, the reefer coat, and whatever the two-piece shipboard uniform ends up being (tuck in those shirts, millennials!). Chiefs have used pin-on insignia on khakis and chokers for decades now, they’re iconic, so let’s keep those where they are. (Although, chiefs, how good does the World War II–era dress white uniform look?)
- Shift to officers’ braided stripes when possible instead of joint insignia. This would affect the Ike jacket (a pretty easy fix), the cold weather parka, the raincoat, and (heresy of heresies, perhaps) coveralls and flight suits. The Royal Navy, who served as the basis of our uniform for centuries before being supplanted by the U.S. Army, use braided insignia on both of these uniform items, and in fact the Brits don’t even have rank insignia in common with the British Army or Air Force, so this can be done. For the tactical helo guys who like to have their rank Velcroed on because of reasons no one understands, they can just use bigger pieces of Velcro, or we can just have a nice sit down chat with the helicopter dudes and explain that they are not in danger of being captured while flying plane guard. For missions over hostile territory, you remove your rank with a seam-ripper the way the fighter guys do.
These requests are simple, and although it may end up costing a little more than metal pins once you factor in the cost of embroidery, it is not as crazy as blue camouflage or getting rid of uniforms and replacing them with more uniforms than you eliminated, or making everyone buy see-through PT shirts. In the spirit of trying not to ask for the moon, I will even avoid asking to make aviators’ brown leather boots specifically authorized with the Type III (hint, hint, sir), or bringing back aviation greens (although black-and-olive shoulder boards on flight suits would serve as a nice throwback to that uniform, while we’re on the subject), or the officer’s boat cloak (it is more like a cape, it’s awesome).
These small changes are suggested simply to make our service, which has wandered in the desert of uniform changes for 20 years, look a little more naval by emphasizing some of our traditional insignia. In a world where we will probably see the Navy take the lead as a warfighting force, I do not ask that the other services adopt our rank, rather that we assert our unique heritage with a modern look and dress the part as the world’s premiere fleet.
