The COVID 19 pandemic has forced on the world a learning curve that is unprecedented in modern history. From the first cases, which were dismissed as “just another flu,” to the development of effective vaccines in the space of nine months, the rapidly changing situation is something few medical professionals—much less military leaders—were prepared to handle. As with many battles, it is common to forget the lessons of the last war and not look back at some of the casualties and tactical decisions to evaluate whether they were made with the full contextual understanding of the problem—and not based on scarce or deficient information.
The Navy also has moved through an incredible power curve to keep forces deployed using quarantine, sanitation, and lockdown policies, many of which are much more restrictive than those placed on the general population. These difficult measures resulted in the Navy maintaining a combat-ready force as the pandemic raged around the world; it is a testament to the Navy’s fortitude that only ten active-duty sailors lost their lives to COVID. One sailor, however, Captain Brett Crozier, lost his job during the pandemic, because of decisions that, in my opinion, merit revisit and, based on subsequent findings, redress. As I wrote in my initial article, this was the first attack in a prolonged battle against an enemy for which the Navy was ill-prepared.
Prior to the COVID 19 pandemic, nothing in the Navy’s training pipeline prepared commanding officers to confront a viral enemy, much less in the highly charged political atmosphere that surrounded the initial outbreak. Captain Crozier’s relief as commanding officer was unorthodox to say the least, and the normal military process—and intermediate chain of command—struggled to catch up. Having spent 30 years in the military, one thing I learned is that once your boss makes a decision, the general response is “Aye aye, sir,” and you move out. By the same token, if there is one thing the Navy as an organization does not always do well, it is looking back and asking if what it did was the right thing. Captain Crozier’s case represents a unique (and time-sensitive) opportunity for the Navy to do so.
Since Captain Crozier‘s dismissal from command, other ships also have been taken offline by COVID. The Navy has not made the numbers public, and rightly so, but they are still fairly well known. In the context of March 2020, decisions were made on the deck plates of the USS Theodore Roosevelt (CVN-71), the Pentagon, and the White House, based on the information available at the time; things have changed since then. I am not saying that the Navy should summarily dismiss the findings of the initial case; however, it would be hard for anyone to argue that those conducting the initial investigation were not feeling pressure or that they were adequately prepared to ask the right questions, through no fault of their own—no one was!
As an example, the same week Captain Crozier’s relief played out, the White House Chief of Staff was dismissing COVID as a “political weapon—the Media Hoax of the day.” That this comment came from someone so close to the Commander-in-Chief likely resonated with those in command and could have resulted in other decisions made out of risk avoidance. The Navy trains its commanding officers to make decisions in the heat of combat knowing they might make mistakes, but they should not fear repercussions if they are wrong, because, as stated in a message by the Vice Chief of Naval Operations in March of 2020, “We have your back.” Unfortunately, the timing of this message, followed within 48 hours by Caption Crozier’s relief from command had to raise some eyebrows—and shake the confidence—of those in command at the time. This confidence could be restored. The second Crozier investigation was conducted in the same political environment, even the strongest of military officers—and I believe the Chief of Naval Operations (CNO) to be one—would have a hard time overturning the initial outcome, although he did consider it.
But that was then. This is now. There are two ways to address this issue. The normal path would be for the relieved officer to submit a request to the Board for Corrections of Naval Records that the case be reviewed and redressed in the form of appropriate corrective action. History has shown that this is unlikely, since naval officers generally accept the decisions of their superiors without question and call it accountability—Captain Crozier has generally taken this approach, focusing his attention on the response and welfare of his medical team and crew. I respectfully submit, however, that accountability cuts both ways. The Navy claims \failure is a necessary part of learning and of succeeding. It also claims it is not a “zero defect organization”; however, in practice this often means “until you have a defect.” Even today, when I talk to active-duty, retired, and civilian personnel, there are many misconceptions about why Captain Crozier was relieved. It was not because he sent an email or broke security protocols. He was relieved because of a perceived failure to implement sufficient COVID protections, as the CNO stated:
Captain Crozier’s primary responsibility was the safety and the well-being of the crew, so that the ship could remain as operationally ready as possible. . . . In reviewing both Admiral Baker and Captain Crozier’s actions, they did not do enough, soon enough, to fulfill their primary obligation.
Both Crozier and Rear Admiral Stuart Baker (who was not relieved) “failed to move sailors off the aircraft carrier as quickly as they could have, and failed to move them to a safer environment more quickly,” Admiral Michael Gilday said. In addition, Captain Crozier “exercised questionable judgment when he released sailors from quarantine on the ship, which put his crew at higher risk and may have increased the spread of the virus aboard the Theodore Roosevelt.” Ironically, many of the actions that the captain took at the time have now become protocol. Conversely, some of those he was censured for not taking have proven ineffective at keeping COVID at bay on ships. The Navy could not have known this at the time, but certainly knows it now. Consider the USS Kidd (DDG-100), a destroyer that was taken offline for several weeks because of a COVID outbreak. The leader of her medical team stated:
We took advantage of some of the lessons from the outbreak aboard USS Theodore Roosevelt (CVN-71). I think the combination of hard work, some good planning—even though we had extraordinarily little time—and just making sure we did everything we possibly could allowed it to work out. Although we’d tested 100 percent of the crew already, we retested everyone in San Diego on arrival. Knowing who is positive is imperative, and the only way to know is through testing. Having multiple courses of action is always a good idea, because you never know if something is not going to work the way you expect. Fortunately, we had enough redundancy built into the system.
Fig. 1: The above graphs demonstrates the exponential change in COVID numbers – and with it the exponential increase in knowledge about the disease – since the Crozier decision was made. We have applied this learning curve in many areas. Why not here? (Source: CDC Website).
In June 2020, the CNO withdrew his April recommendation to reinstate Captain Crozier, based on “what I know now.” That “now” is now “then,” as the graph above demonstrates Something that Captain Crozier—or anyone—could not have foreseen is the breadth of the issue as the year went on. “More than 190 U.S. Navy ships have suffered a COVID-19 outbreak this year,” CNO Gilday said in a message to the fleet in late July. If that tally is limited to the Sea Service’s roughly 296 deployable ships, it would mean nearly 65 percent of the fleet has experienced some level of infection by the novel coronavirus. Vice Admiral Richard Brown, then Commander of Naval Surface Forces, summed up the learning curve best when he said: “When we started out this process, I started to say it was an algebra problem for us. . . . Then it became differential equations, and then it went to multivariable calculus, and in many respects now it’s almost theoretical physics trying to figure out what is the right thing to do.” Other high-profile persons have weighed in since:
- Captain Sully Sullenberger (who knows about being judged for a decision made “in extremis”) captured the American public’s admiration for Captain Crozier when he tweeted: “I am saddened but heartened by the story of Captain Brett Crozier, USN. His moral compass points to True North. I commend him for putting the welfare of his crew above his career. What he did is something I hope I would have done.”
- Then–presidential candidate Joe Biden said: “It’s close to criminal the way they’re dealing with Captain Crozier. This man stood up and said what had to be said, got it out that his troops—his Navy personnel—were in danger—in danger. . . . He should have received a commendation rather than fired.”
Captain Crozier had the equivalent of an abacus and was at the tip of the spear; we now have a supercomputer and 20/20 hindsight back at HQ. A good historical parallel can be made with the case of Captain Charles B. McVay, who was court-martialed in 1945 for failing to zigzag (at his discretion) which purportedly led to the loss of the USS Indianapolis (CA-35). He was only captain in World War II subjected to this punishment, and who was subsequently exonerated by act of Congress in 2000 in an effort guided by the research project of a 12-year-old boy who later served as a Navy officer. The Navy could follow this example in a positive and much timelier way.
So, what is the right thing to do? There are options, albeit largely (but importantly) symbolic. From a practical sense, the damage to Captain Crozier is done—he is at statutory service limits and will retire in 2022. That leaves approximately ten months for the new Secretary of the Navy to consider the following actions:
- Direct an independent review of the case by panel of flag officers, supported by a senior JAG and medical officer and an ethics professional, using all available information.
- Reverse the administrative actions that removed Captain Crozier from command, direct that his personnel record be cleared, and that he be restored to his previous status—a naval officer eligible for command—before he retires.
- Encourage the Navy to issue a short, simple apology to Captain Crozier for what he and his family—and his sailors—have endured.
Leaders often declare that one sign of an individual’s moral strength and courage is his or her ability to admit when they make a mistake. It is considered evidence of an individual’s humility, character, integrity, and lack of ego. In a true case of irony, none other than the Theodore Roosevelt’s esteemed namesake probably summed it up best:
It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.
Leaders at all levels make the best decisions they can in the moment, with the information they have—just like the rest of us humans. But when time and distance provide different context for these decisions, perhaps the Navy owes it to its sailors and the American people to revisit them, reverse them, and send a powerful message. Now would be a great time to do just that.
