“I went to sea, to see what’s over the horizon. To see some of the wonders of this earth. To see things that the vast majority of land lubbers never see. To see the lore of the sea.”
– Captain K. W. Riddle, U.S. Coast Guard
As a junior officer in a sea-going service, it is hard to imagine what a career would look without experiencing a tour at sea. While being on board a ship is a challenging experience, it also is one of the most rewarding and informative periods of development for a junior officer. Many Sea services are seeing a decline in junior members, both officer and enlisted, who no longer wish to experience the sea and its lore. While the lifestyle is difficult, the opportunities for personal and professional growth are unparalleled. The time spent learning from knowledgeable enlisted members, growing from a multitude of failures, developing a leadership style while learning about personal motivation, and bonding with shipmates is an experience unique to the underway lifestyle. A career at sea is not for everyone, but when it comes to discovering yourself, learning how to lead, and building personal character, a tour at sea is the most efficient and exciting way to accomplish those goals.
One of the most difficult aspects of integrating with a new crew as a junior officer is understanding that the people working beneath you, the people you are expected to lead, have much more experience and organizational knowledge than you do. Learning to balance humility and the positional power inherent to a commissioned officer is a difficult task, but one that needs to be mastered. Without humility, a junior officer can stumble into dangerous waters by alienating people who can provide valuable lessons.
A well-known saying in the Sea Services s is “Ask the Chief.” Most people who have spent a tour at sea would agree that the chiefs mess has a wealth of knowledge that can help young service members avoid common shortfalls. However, it is an easy mistake to presume that going to a central mess, knocking then entering, and asking for help is a way to demonstrate humility. To truly understand the value of enlisted personnel, a junior officer needs stand watch with them. Being on watch, especially on a ship, demands an atmosphere of professionalism, strict adherence to policy, and respect for organizational authority. Learning all the aspects involved in standing the watch is challenging enough; learning to navigate the complex personnel dynamics of a bridge team or an engineering watch is an entirely different, yet equally important, challenge. Standing watch as a leader while also respecting the opinions and experiences of the team you are working with elevates a watch floor from good to excellent. Learning from the diversity of thought, experiences, and opinions found outside the wardroom helps junior officers develop trust and respect with the people they are leading.
When a new junior officer has a team to rely on because he or she has put forth the effort to establish a good working relationship with the rest of the crew, navigating the other demands of shipboard life becomes a little easier. However, even with assistance of a chiefs’ mess and strong watch team, it still can prove difficult to manage all the responsibility and standards young junior officers are expected to maintain while at sea. Inherent to the position of O-1 or O-2 is the expectation of failure. Yes, it sounds harsh, but failure is simply a part of the development process in any military service and being underway exponentially increases the chances to experience failure. Managing the severity of these failures and learning from the mistakes that are bound to happen is what makes a failure either an opportunity or a roadblock. Obviously, learning from mistakes is not a new concept; everyone says that at some point you will fail and it’s how you respond to that failure that demonstrates character and professional growth. What cannot be realized until after a junior officer experiences a tour at sea is that the saying is absolutely true.
Hindsight being what it is, experiencing failure on board a ship can be a monumental development moment in a young career and is inherently different from failing on land. The most important and impactful lessons are not learned from successes, but from mistakes. I made a pretty serious mistake during my first tour, and the lesson I learned is not one that I will ever forget.
Being a newly qualified officer of the deck (OOD) on a Coast Guard national security cutter is intimidating to say the least. In fact, being the newly qualified OOD on any ship is an intimidating job. Countless hours of scenario-based training and break-in watches have, in theory, prepared you to be the person in charge, the person responsible for the 135 crew members sleeping below deck as you assume a late-night watch. The foundation of my mistake was a simple one—I got comfortable and allowed the time I spent on the bridge to cloud the severity of my responsibility. Comfort is the catalyst for most mistakes at sea. We learn our jobs and begin to take for granted the severity of the responsibility that has been digitated to us. In my case, I broke one of the most simple and common rules the commanding officer (CO) requires underway OOD’s to follow: Call the CO if a vessel will come within 2 nautical miles (nm) of the ship. I had made that call dozens of times; day or night I had followed this rule, until the moment I did not.
It was a calm and clear day in the Eastern Pacific, approximately 30 nm off the coast of Ecuador. I was the underway OOD and we were heading toward a suspected drug-smuggling case. The ship, a 418-foot Coast Guard national security cutter, was making 20 knots towards the target of interest. On this beautiful day, with the sun shining and the ocean calm, local fisherman were out in droves; small 20-foot, open–console wooden boats that held three or four people. I had one of our best lookouts on watch so my apprehension level was low and I was confident my team could handle the busy transit. After approximately one hour of dogging boats and calling the captain in accordance with his rules, my lookout spots a small boat off the starboard bow, approximately 5 nm away. This fishing boat was not moving, and was projected to pass down the starboard side of the ship at just under two miles. This is where complacency overcame my good judgment.
We continued to observe the fishing boat and, as we got closer, I made no call to the captain, assuming the vessel would pass without incident. As the distance closed and the fishing boat came within 2 nm of the ship, the lookout noticed that the boat had begun to move. The fishing boat was moving left, in front of the ship I was driving, and our closest point of approach had now dropped well into the limits of when I should have called the captain. I was 1.5 nm miles away, making 20 knots on a 418–foot ship, and this small fishing boat got under way and began crossing in front of the bow.
At this moment, after I had allowed my confidence as a watch stander to overpower all my training and knowledge, I reverted to the basic emergency scenario I had rehearsed many times as a break-in. I sounded five short blasts and ordered a left 30-degree rudder. This dramatic maneuver brought every member of the wardroom to the bridge. The captain was at my shoulder in less than 30 seconds. The little fishing boat had come to a slower speed and passed down my starboard quarter with 150 yards to spare.
This mistake landed me in the captain’s cabin and I received a lecture that only an O-6 CO knows how to deliver. But, to my surprise, he did not take away the qualification letter that allowed me to stand watch on the bridge. He told me, after I had fully processed the severity of my mistake, that this experience was going to make him more confident in me as a watch stander. My captain explained to me that, after experiencing this mistake, he knew I would never let complacency could my judgment on watch ever again.
Being a junior officer on a ship is incredibly difficult. The learning curve associated with the complex responsibilities of underway life is designed to be stressful. Spending two years on board a ship was one of the most difficult and rewarding experiences of my life. The lessons I learned on how to interact with people and manage different personalities is a tool I will use for the rest of my career. I learned, from the chiefs and petty officers, the power of humility. I learned, from my mistakes on watch, the ability to understand, develop, and overcome failure. I learned from my fellow junior officers the benefits of unity and teamwork. But most importantly, I learned a lot about myself. Being at sea is not for everyone, but everyone should experience being at sea. It is the perfect environment to learn about leadership. It’s the perfect environment to learn about yourself. As a junior officer in a seagoing service, I don’t know if I will ever go back to sea, but I do know that is an experience I will cherish for the rest of life.
