This would be Victoria’s fourth time. While she was happy to allow her men to partake in the ritual, it was starting to get old for her. She had more pressing things to do.
A knock on the door. “Sir, CS2 with—”
“Enter,” bellowed the captain.
An enlisted woman brought in a tray with a pot of coffee and a plate of cookies. The captain looked it over, rubbing his hands together. “Alright! Now this is… wait. Now what the hell is this? These are chocolate chip. Now SUPPO told me that CS1 was making me sugar cookies.” He looked at the young enlisted woman, who was clearly terrified to be in this room with the most senior officers on the ship. “Where are my sugar cookies?”
“Sir, I’m not sure… um… if you want, I can…”
The captain frowned and waved her off. “No. Forget it. You’re dismissed.”
When she was gone, the XO said, “Sir, in answer to your question, the master chief and I have gone over the schedule for the Crossing the Line ceremony. We’ve reiterated to the chief’s mess to make sure that safety and respect come first.”
The captain ignored him and picked up the phone. “CS1, this is the captain. I thought you were making me sugar cookies. Where are my sugar cookies?”
Victoria’s face reddened. She looked at the XO and the master chief. They were looking down at the ground, expressionless. This was embarrassing behavior for a ship captain. He was supposed to be an example for all the ship’s officers and crew. Above reproach. Instead, he often behaved like a child king.
One of her life’s greatest disappointments was when she’d realized that not all commanding officers were like her father. He had surrounded himself with similar leaders, so she had never seen the bad ones. To her, every military officer was a gentleman and a scholar. The type that put his men first and worked hard to get the job done right. Victoria had assumed that all leaders in the military were like this. Then she’d finished flight school and gone on her first deployment.
It was like finding out that there was no Santa Claus. They didn’t always put the smartest and most capable leader in charge. Just the highest-ranking. And while the US military’s bureaucratic personnel system did well in selecting many great leaders for promotion, many subpar ones also slipped through the cracks.
In his famous novel about the Civil War, The Killer Angels, Michael Shaara had written that there was “nothing quite so much like God on earth as a general on a battlefield.” She wasn’t sure about generals on the battlefield, but she had seen ship captains at sea. Their power was absolute, and often unchecked. They had absolute control and absolute responsibility. They were held accountable for everything, but only if it was made known to their superiors. When mistakes were made public, commanding officers were often fired for “lack of confidence.” Many commanding officers became extreme micromanagers to ensure that their men didn’t make any errors. That was when one would encounter situations like the captain who insisted on being notified of every change in status, no matter how minute the detail.
Oftentimes, the ship captain’s bosses were hundreds if not thousands of miles away. Everything the ship captains did was private. If they screamed at their subordinates like madmen, no one would know. If that got the best results, it became a part of the culture. Many times, junior officers not used to making their own decisions would replicate this leadership style, because that was what they had “grown up” with.
With that absolute power, and the Navy’s long tradition of hierarchy, tradition, and etiquette, came a sense of entitlement. Absolute power corrupts absolutely. Ship captains in the Navy needed to be strong-willed and determined not to succumb to the temptation to behave like a tyrant. While it could be effective and gratifying in the short term, it was also demoralizing and counterproductive in the long run.
The captain said, “Alright, fine. Next time.” He hung up the phone and shook his head.
The master chief said, “Excuse me, Captain, XO, Air Boss. I must attend to something.”
The senior enlisted on the ship, the command master chief was well respected by all the officers and crew. Victoria had only known him for a few months, but she knew the type. He had seen it all, and dedicated his life to the Navy. She had instantly liked him. He was also adept at getting out of these sessions with the captain, a skill Victoria needed to improve.
The phone rang again. “Go.” He looked surprised at what he heard. “What. Now? Alright, tell him I’ll call him immediately.” The captain hung up. “You two will have to excuse me. The commodore wants me to give him a call.”
The commodore was the captain’s boss. He was deployed on an aircraft carrier in the Middle East. Due to the time differences, meetings were often at odd hours.
The news that Victoria would be able to get out of this room earlier than expected was a welcome surprise. “Alright, sir, thanks.” Both she and the XO left the captain’s cabin and went their separate ways.
Victoria walked back to the hangar. Her men had finished the engine wash, and both helicopters were now folded and stuffed in the two hangars. The flight deck was quiet. The ship must have been traveling slowly, as she could hear the waves gently lapping the hull.
A bright white moon began to rise over the horizon, washing the calm Pacific Ocean with its light. She stayed for a few moments, enjoying the tranquil view. Victoria needed these moments. The pressure that she placed on herself was enormous. She recognized it, but wasn’t able to stop it.
She was incredibly self-driven. The type of person who had to be number one at everything she did. Even now, she couldn’t relax. For someone like her, relaxing was a chore. Another self-imposed task that she thrust on herself in hopes of some type of productivity improvement.
Still, she tried. Victoria had seen the statistics on the effect of prayer and meditation on performance. She had read up on the habits of other successful people, and many of them included time for this in their daily routines. So every day, she scheduled time to meditate alone for twenty to thirty minutes.
That time slot had once been allotted to prayer — until her mother had died. She didn’t pray anymore. Like having conversations with her father, it only made her resentful.
The 1MC announcer came on. “Taps, Taps. Lights out in five minutes. Stand by for evening prayer.” She rolled her eyes. Evening prayer on Navy ships was a nightly ritual. It was nondenominational, of course. Or multidenominational. Whatever. To her it was just a reminder of her own complicated relationship with God.
The XO’s voice came on. The XO was a good man. He had a tough job — cleaning up the messes of the child king. “Shipmates, as we sail in calm seas, and prepare to cross the equator in a few days, we are reminded of how lucky we are. Lucky to be born in a freedom-loving country. Lucky to serve alongside such great shipmates. As we all know, right now our nation is facing a growing conflict in the Middle East. So it is important for us to remember that many of our brothers and sisters in arms are not in calm waters like we are. It is with this in mind that I will read part of the Navy Hymn. The original hymn was written in the 1800s by an Englishman named William Whiting. When he was thirty-five years old, he was in a violent storm. He believed that God had spared his life by commanding the raging seas to calm. The hymn is thought to have been inspired by a passage from Psalm 107, in the Bible. With that, I’ll read…”