My ensign-mobile—i.e. the first car I owned upon commissioning—was nothing flashy. A small blue Ford SUV that I creatively nicknamed “Ole’ Blue,” I bought it because it was affordable, seemed like a reliable model, and had space to haul my meager possessions between duty stations. I never loved it like other ensigns sometimes love their cars, but it did the job: 170 thousand miles, four PCS drives across large swathes of the country, a string of TAD drives to Fallon, North Island, and El Centro; it eventually became a useful Dad-mobile for taking the kids to school, the dog to the vet, and junk to the dump.
Over the first 15 years I owned it, it needed blessedly little maintenance: an alternator replaced and a paint job after an unknown roadside hazard exposed some of the metal frame; that was it for a long time, but soon it started to show its age.
I started getting a recurring check engine light for a cylinder misfiring. So, I had to replace the spark plugs and ignition coils, and then the engine gasket. It wasn’t much, maybe $200, and I did the work in my neighbor’s driveway, so that helped. But after that, the repairs seemed to pile up quickly: The ECV blew out (literally), so that meant replacing that and the vacuum lines. That was because of problems with pushing the exhaust through the catalytic converter, so I had to replace that too. It was an aftermarket part, so it fit okay, but it rattled and made a lot of noise until the parts heated up and tightened a little.
And then the electrical problems started. The car wouldn’t start and the battery would drain quickly. That meant it was maybe a short, but if I was lucky it was just an alternator problem. So I got a new battery, and my second alternator, then a third. The electrical drain continued, the battery would drain every 2-3 days if I didn’t run the car. No big deal, I thought, I just kept a starter box with me. The car could still get my old dog to the vet and my kids to sports practice. I just needed to keep it running and have the jumpers ready. I would chase down the faulty wiring sometime soon, I told myself.
In the span of about six months, I put about $1,200 more into the car. OIe’ Blue got so unreliable, I actually bought a new car to use daily while I tinkered with the ensign-mobile, hoping to keep it up and running for reasons that escape me now.
I kept her going for about eight months until I realized what I was doing. I had succumbed to the sunk cost fallacy, simply defined as: continuing “a behavior or endeavor as a result of previously invested resources (time, money, or effort).”
I had had Ole’ Blue for so long, and spent so little comparatively over the life of the car that when the costs piled up, I rationalized it by saying: “Well, it hasn’t cost much until now” and “If I can just fix XYZ, it’ll be in good shape and I can still use it for odd jobs.”
Then, the dog died. He was a good boy (as they all are!) and had a long happy life with us; his white fur formed a sort of second upholstery for Ole’ Blue, inextricable from the car’s fabric. But when he died, I opened my eyes to the sunk cost fallacy. I was throwing good money after bad, spending on repairs, gas, oil changes, insurance, etc., for marginal returns.
A week later, I donated the car to the local tech school, hoping some aspiring mechanic could bring her back to life and maybe find some joy putting another 180k on her (wonky timing chain and all).
So, what in the world is any of this about?
It’s about NAVADMIN 124/22. This NAVADMIN announced several uniform-related changes, as we all, from seaman to admiral, are accustomed (or numb) to, they are as regular as the sunrise. Included among these changes is this gem:
“Effective 1 October 2022, all Navy Service Members will wear the black cold weather parka (CWP) rank insignia on all uniform components with rank tabs.”
That means that the ridiculous looking black tabs on our lime green cammo Navy Working Uniform Type III (NWU3) (a uniform I have bemoaned here and here, the second piece specifically discusses the absurdity of the black rank on green cammo) will soon be the standard, a uniform approach to a non-uniform appearance for a uniform that has little or nothing to do with the traditions, functions, or aesthetic of our service.
This means, that since my commissioning 18 years ago, the following working uniform changes have been made (in approximately chronological order):
- Adoption of the NWU Type I (NWU1) blue cammo to replace wash khakis and utilities
- Restriction of the NWU1 from shipboard use
- Fielding of the NWU Type II (restricted to special warfare) and NWU3 uniforms
- Retirement of the NWU1 for the NWU3
- Removal of rank on the NWU 8-point cap
- Authorization of the black rank for O-6 on the NWU3
- Authorization of the black rank for all hands on the NWU3
- Mandating the black rank for all hands on the NWU3
- The alleged fielding of a still-nowhere-to-be-found two-piece shipboard uniform in khaki and blue. This uniform shows up in the hands of the great and mighty from time to time, all while Sailors wear the NWU3 ashore and various organizational uniforms (i.e., flight suits, coveralls, etc.) at sea.
The replacement for NWU3 exists in limited numbers (apparently flags and the MCPON can get them, but you and I can’t) on waterfronts and flight lines right now. It’s a two-piece working uniform suitable for sea and shore, connected to our past, and better looking than digital green cammo with a black rank tab.
But the Navy has failed to rip off the bandaid of the failed NWU era for the same reason I couldn’t get rid of my Ole’ Blue SUV: the NWU3 is a sunk cost. The Navy is tinkering with the ensign-mobile of the NWU despite the obvious fact that it is a broken uniform.
We have untold millions of dollars of these nasty green uniforms, and its associated book bags, duffel bags, notebooks, and who knows what else, sitting in Navy Exchange storerooms, and so the NWU3 persists because to get rid of this uniform would be to throw away good money that we’ve already spent on “tacticool” gear and uniforms.
As a reminder: the sunk cost fallacy is continuing “a behavior or endeavor as a result of previously invested resources (time, money, or effort).”
What Big Navy’s uniform tinkering ignores is that Sailors are the ones continuing to pay for the bad decisions. Sailors are now going to scramble to buy black rank tabs. The next change to this disaster uniform, whatever it is—maybe an eyepatch, or a green cammo cape, or something—will impact the wallets of our Sailors. So will the associated costs of buying matching gear or accessories, optional items, to be sure, but try telling your new E-2 not to buy the cool NWU3 backpack with all those weird loops and zippers all over it and see how far that gets you…
Continued incremental changes from OPNAV will impact Sailors because there is no appetite for a wholesale uniform change that would in one fell swoop introduce a more appropriate uniform to the Fleet. The costs to NEXCOM apparently outweigh the damage in public relations that OPNAV will suffer for another uniform change. Moving along a warehouse full of green cammo is more important than the opinion (and pocketbooks) of Fleet Sailors, perhaps.
I didn’t want to retire Ole’ Blue, the car had been with me through thick and thin, it had served me well, and I thought that just a bit more elbow grease could save her. But I was wrong, it was a money pit and it was costing me in time, currency, effort, and peace of mind. The new car I bought costs me more a month than Ole’ Blue did thanks to a car payment, but it also doesn’t require constant attention to keep mobile and I know this new car will last me many more years than Ole’ Blue had left in her.
The Navy needs to admit that the NWU experiment of the past two decades has been a failure. I don’t have much confidence in this happening, but it would be nice to see the brass give it a try. If our leadership can acknowledge the failure of the NWU3, I recommend the following:
- Announce the retirement of the NWU 2 & 3 for all hands except in applicable tactical situations.
- Announce the adoption of the two-piece flame resistant working uniform as the working uniform for all hands.
- Don’t create some dumb acronym for the uniform, call them “working blues” and “working khakis” and be done with it.
In the spirit of proposing solutions to the chest rank imbroglio that will only continue with the two-piece uniform, I suggest the following modifications:
- Allow either soft shoulder boards or khaki subdued shoulder boards for the officer variant, to be worn on the shoulders or as a chest insignia.
- Wearing the rank on the shoulders (as our bearded cousins do) solves the problem of: “My rank is up here, petty officer” that currently plagues the service.
- Wearing a shoulder board insignia in the center of the chest (as our bearded cousins apparently experimented with before discarding), conversely, would keep the current layout, but provide a more immediately recognizable rank insignia, the worst case being identifying the wearer as some type of officer, even if the stripes are not immediately discernible.
- Using a shoulder board would be an immediate indication (along with khaki) that the person is an officer, reducing that awkward “chief or officer” calculus for sailors. Shoulder boards are more visible than rank insignia and are distinctly naval in nature.
- For enlisted sailors (including Chiefs), adopt a shoulder patch rank, worn on the left shoulder pocket. This would be a tie back into the proud history of Sailors wearing their rank on their sleeves and for chiefs would help further distinguish them from officers.
- Making these patches Velcro-backed would eliminate the costs of embroidering rank and cost marginally more than the rank tabs (Velcro flight suit patches, for comparison, can be purchased for about $7 apiece, black rank tabs cost about $3).
- The Navy must judiciously purchase Velcro (hook-and-loop to use the proper term) patches at an achievable price point for Sailors. The current laser cut flag patches that run Sailors $13 each are too expensive. If I paid my squadron coffee mess less than $10 for a unit patch, the Navy can buy enough crows to outfit the Fleet for a similar cost per Sailor. Don’t let the uniform manufacturers fleece us. No pun intended.
- Abolish the eight-point cap and make the ballcap the standard headwear with the uniform, make the ballcap a command issued uniform item, to include CO’s discretion for rank on the ballcap.
- Make rolling sleeves and blousing boots optional for all hands when not in areas of hazardous duty (i.e., the flight deck).
- Budget for a one time uniform allowance for all hands to purchase two sets of their respective uniform.
- Make sure any current footwear that is authorized for this uniform is authorized for the new uniform, with the possibility of phasing out the soft desert tan boots in the future.
America’s Navy should look like a navy: seaman-like, rather than the current lubberly Army-adjacent uniform. Until the obsessive uniform tinkering of the 21st century, our Navy spent most of the 20th Century in khaki and blue (check out those beautiful aviation greens, though!). As we leave behind the expeditionary mindset of the War on Terror, we have to admit that our dalliance with digital camouflage designs that embody the same sunk cost fallacy as my struggles with Ole’ Blue.
I was throwing good money after bad, even after having an acceptable replacement on hand—surprisingly similar to the Navy’s lukewarm approach to the two-piece working uniform development process that has dragged on since at least 2018. This thinking has led to a decade-plus of terrible NWU policies and changes. It’s time to eat the sunk cost and admit that there’s a better approach.
Navy leaders will probably have to go to Congress for this to ask for money and eat some crow. It will be painful for our service leadership who have inherited this problem. But that’s what leaders are for: to change course when it’s the right decision to make, and it’s their responsibility to suffer the consequences. As they say in the fleet: “That’s why we pay you the big bucks.”
And truthfully, as a service we deserve to be upbraided for the careless stewardship of our heritage, the out-of-pocket expenses levied against our junior Sailors, and the foolish approach to a uniform that is a poor fit for a proud Navy. It is time to stop throwing money at a bad uniform. I had to admit to myself that my ensign-mobile wasn’t the vehicle I needed anymore, despite the many years of long service and fond memories. The NWU lacks even the sentimental pull of an ensign-mobile, there is little in its 12-year history to be proud of. It’s time