Category Archives: Marine Corps

Terminal Leave Adventures (4): Shipboard life and returning home from a Disney Cruise and an Amphibious deployment

Posted by Mike Grice on

Life aboard the Disney Wonder continues to not be at all bad, but unfortunately it is coming to an end.  In my ongoing comparison and contrast between her and the U. S. Navy’s Wasp class of amphibious assault ships we will look a little deeper at the ships themselves and the things that you can do whilst on board as well as the disheartening return to reality as our ship pulls back into Los Angeles.

For those keeping score, here is where we stand up to this point:   Disney:       7         U. S. Navy:      5

The aesthetics of each ship are predictably very different.  The Wonder, being a kid-oriented and Walt Disney themed vessel is all about the experience of the passengers.  The Navy’s amphibs, on the other hand, are purpose built to take Marines into harm’s way on hostile shores.  Needless to say, the feel of being aboard each ship is like chalk and cheese- worlds apart.

The Wonder’s art deco styling hearkens back to Disney’s beginnings, when Mickey Mouse and friends were bursting on the world scene and the Disney brothers found themselves at the head of an exploding entertainment empire.  The interior of the ship gleams with sweeping arcs and intricate patterns of brushed aluminum and steel which are accented by honey hued lacquered wood paneling that warmly lines the main parts of the ship.  The deeper hues of mahogany accent the railings, fixtures, counters, and bars.  Colorful carpet meets gleaming tile across the decks, and the furniture is reminiscent of a 1930s film noir.

The exterior of the ship (including the promenade, pool decks, and other areas where the interior meets the salt air) is painted a gleaming white in the manner of Teddy Roosevelt’s Great White Fleet, with a nicely patriotic red and blue accent meeting at the waterline on the hull.  There is an incredible level of attention to detail that mirrors the theme parks of Disneyland and Disneyworld. Every part of the ship is always spotless thanks to a tireless crew that is perpetually sweeping and swabbing.  Also like the theme parks there are things to do everywhere.

The Wonder sports two theaters aboard- one for movies and the other for live shows.  We saw a couple of both, and the entertainment venues are tremendous!  My sons were ecstatic to be able to watch the movie Real Steel and my wife really liked The Help, both first run movies that are currently in theaters ashore.  The live shows, like Toy Story, the Musical, were as high quality as any we have seen in a landbound theater.  Of course, it wouldn’t be a Disney experience without the famous characters walking about!  We are constantly running into Pluto, Goofy, and the rest of the cast of characters.  Everyone dresses to the nines for the formal dinners, and I must say that Mickey is a lucky mouse indeed because Minnie looks positively ravishing in her white gown and tiara!  Goofy looks pretty dapper in a tux, too.

Deck 9 is where the party rolls on, and on, and on.  There are three pools (one for adults, one for everyone, and a shallow one with a waterslide just for kids), Jacuzzis everywhere and places to get everything from pizza to hamburgers to coffee to cocktails.  No matter what activities we did on the ship or ashore we always ended up on deck 9, and were happy to be there.  Disney is really magical through the eyes of children, and watching little ones light up when Chip and Dale wander by in their Hawaiian shirts makes your heart melt.

There are clubs for kids of all ages, too.  Infants, toddlers, grade schoolers, tweens, and teens all have dedicated places to go and hang out with their fellow cruisers.  It is great for them because they are never bored- when they get tired of their parents or their siblings they can go off and have a great time.  After a few days we found our kids ditching us earlier and earlier to go to the Oceaneer’s Lab (for our eight year old) and the Edge (for our eleven year old tween).  That made it nice for us parents- the kids were off in a safe and fun environment and we could actually have some time to ourselves for a change!

In the Navy, however, things are a little different.  The ship is a monochromatic palette of black, grey and white occasionally interrupted by the yellow that marks steps on ladderwells so that you don’t trip on them.  Blue decks mark Officer’s Country (which is where officers both live and work), but all in all the ship has a very utilitarian and industrial feel and look.  It is a warship, after all, and being a warship it is just as attentively cared for as the Disney Wonder.  It is clean- not in a sparkly Magic Kingdom kind of way but in a shipshape Navy kind of way.  Sailors (and a few Marines who are assigned to shipboard duties) are endlessly sweeping, painting, and wiping down the ship, and the pride they have in their vessel is evident by the way they painstakingly ensure that everything is orderly and tidy- very important because you never know when something may happen and they may have to drop their brooms and swabs and take up their battle stations.

There are things to do aboard ship as well.  Lots of things.  99% of those things involve making sure that the ship is shipshape (for the crew) and we Marines are making sure that our combat equipment is ready for any contingency.  Seawater is remarkably corrosive, so each and every day Marines are conducting maintenance on their gear- endlessly wiping protective grease and oil off of trucks and guns and tanks, inspecting for rust, and reapplying another waterproof layer….only to be repeated again and again in the days ahead.  Leaders attend meetings and briefings to stay current on world events, planning to respond to the situations within steaming range ship and her sisters.  Warships seldom sail alone, and our Big Deck the command and control ship for a little fleet (called an Amphibious Ready Group, or ARG in acronymical fashion) of amphibs that consists of the Big Deck and two Small Decks, all loaded with several thousand Marines and enough combat gear to assault a beach, help evacuate those in need, or respond to natural disasters like tsunamis and hurricanes.

In addition to taking care of equipment Marines work out.  They hit the gym (which is an impressive collection of free weights, cardio machines, and the like) and they can run around the flight deck when it is not being used as an airport.  They can go to the library to read or check out books, watch TV in their berthing spaces (if they brought a small TV with them, of course!), or sleep when they don’t have to be on duty.  They can even go swimming onboard ship- on special occasions.  There is no leisure pool aboard, but in cases where the well deck (the part of the ship where the amphibious vehicles and landing boats are kept) is free of vehicles the ship can actually fill it with water- creating an enormous swimming pool.  The ship is designed to flood the well deck so that boats can float in and out during landing operations, and when no boats are aboard it becomes the largest shipboard swimming pool on earth.  No diving board, though…and it isn’t heated.  And it doesn’t happen often.  But, when it does, it is a unique experience!

So, back to our competition.  Our current score rests at seven to four in favor of Disney.  We will assign two points in this round; one for the ambiance of the ship and the second for things to do aboard.  The first point has to go to Disney for the sheer elegance of the Wonder- if ever there could be a replication of the Magic Kingdom at sea then the Disney cruising fleet has made it possible.  The second point for things to do aboard ship is a close call, but it has to go to the Navy and Marine team.  After all, you can swim on both ships but only with the Navy and Marines can you do really manly things like perform maintenance on tanks after breakfast and assault a beach after lunch.  Point, Department of the Navy.

Running score:                                  Disney:                 8              U. S. Navy:          5

That brings us to the end of our deployment with Disney and the Navy.  My first post explained the differences between the boarding experience, so now let’s take a look at disembarkation.

Leaving the Wonder was a pretty simple process, really.  We watched a video that described the things we had to do to depart the ship – things like “don’t leave anything behind!” and “review your bill before departing…”.  We tagged our luggage with the colorful tags that our cabin steward thoughtfully provided and packed very carefully (and it was a pleasant surprise to learn that our luggage would be taken ashore for us if we left outside our stateroom the evening before reaching port), but receiving a bill for all of the cocktails and souvenirs and sundry items that we purchased was a jarring experience.  You definitely pay for the fun you have on a cruise!

The colored tags were part of the debarking process.  We were “Purple Minnies” (because we had purple tags with a fetching picture of Minnie Mouse), meaning our bagtags were purple which suited my oldest son because that is his favorite color.  We were called to disembark based on our tag color, so after our last breakfast aboard ship we queued up and waited for the call.  Soon enough we heard the call for “Purple Minnies!” and we walked back out the ornate door that we passed through as we boarded just a short week before.  We followed the crowd to U. S. Customs, where a bored customs agent scrutinized our passports and perfunctorily waved us back to U. S. soil.  We wandered over to baggage claim, got our bags, and drove home.  Very anticlimactic.

Contrast the deflation of departing the Wonder with the sheer exuberance of returning from a military deployment.  First of all, there are a lot of ways to get off the ship- you can ride in a helicopter, splash across the beach in a landing craft, or swim ashore aboard an amphibious assault vehicle.  Or walk down the gangplank when the ship docks pierside, of course.  The best part is that there is a tremendously heartfelt reunion waiting for you- complete with banners, flags, and your family jumping up and down because they haven’t seen you in six months or more.  Talk about an emotional event!  Many Marines and Sailors will first meet children they have never seen because they were born while they were underway, and young lovers will embrace with the passion only possible in the wonderful world of true love.  It is one of the most heartwarming and and emotional things you will ever witness, and to be a participant is unforgettable.  This one goes to the U. S. Navy and Marine Corps!

So, after much consideration and internal debate, I must tally the final score as follows:

Final score:                        Disney:                 8              U. S. Navy:          6

So, even though the U. S. Navy (with their Marines embarked) are the absolutely baddest thing ever to sail the seven seas they can’t best the Disney cruise ship Wonder  in the underway experience department.  You can join the Navy and see the world, but you can’t do it with Mickey and Minnie mouse (or with your kids!) unless you book a pleasure cruise with the Disney Armada.

With this my terminal leave adventure comes to a close, and it is time to get back to work.  I left you, my constant reader, sitting at the edge of your seat in anticipation of joining me in the checking out process.  My next post will introduce you to that most excellent document, the checkout sheet, and bring you along the rocks and shoals of my final departure from active service.  Keep reading!

Terminal Leave Adventures (2): Disney versus the U. S. Navy part deux…

Posted by Mike Grice on

One of the best parts of transition is taking terminal leave.  It is that unique time in your career when you get paid for leaving your job, which is a pretty nice perk.  Being paid your salary and receiving your benefits as you use up your remaining balance of leave (the vacation days that you have earned while serving on active duty) while having absolutely nothing required of you in return is pretty sweet.  The only expectation, I suppose, is to stay out of jail.  So far, so good…

Anyhow, I am still aboard the Disney cruise ship Wonder, and I am typing this at six in the morning as I watch the sun rise over Cabo San Lucas.  My hangover isn’t too bad this morning (although it should be) thanks to the most excellent Americano I got at the Cove Café coffee shop and lounge.  Again, I digress… so back to the differences between this sailing adventure and a deployment aboard a U. S. Navy amphibious ship (“amphib” in milspeak), which needless to say is pretty striking.  For those keeping score, here is where we left off:

Running score:                  Disney:                 4              U. S. Navy:          0

Disney has taken an early lead, and today we will see if they can keep it.  This post picks up by taking a look at the ships themselves and see which one scores best- starting with the living accomodations.  For comparison I will be using the class of amphib on which I have spent the most time: the Wasp class of amphibious assault ships.  Named for the first of her kind to sail, the Wasp and her ilk are also named in acronymical fashion the LHD class, or Landing Helicopter Dock: Landing because it lands Marines ashore in amphibious operations, Helicopter because it has an enormous flight deck that serves as a heliport, and Dock because the Navy needed a third letter to fill out the acronym.  There are currently eight big deck LHDs in the Navy, and I have either sailed or worked aboard half of them, including the Wasp, Essex, Boxer, and Bonhomme Richard.  I have also sailed aboard numerous small deck amphibs of the Landing Ship Dock (LSD) and Landing Platform Dock (LPD) classes, but since most of my time was aboard the Big Decks and because they are the most similar to the Disney Wonder in size I will use the LHDs as the benchmark for comparison.

Speaking of comparisons, here are some particulars for both ships:

 

Wasp Class LHD

Disney Wonder
Displacement 40,650 tons (combat loaded) 83,000
Length 844 feet 964 feet
Beam 106 feet 106 feet
Draft 28 feet (fully loaded) 25.3 feet
Speed 24+ knots 24 knots max
Crew 73 Officers, 1109 Sailors 945
Passengers 1,800 Marines 2400, including kids
Commissioned 1992 1999
Home Port Sasebo, Japan Los Angeles, California
Aircraft Embarked up to 36, including: UH-1N Huey, AH-1W Cobra, CH-53 Super Stallion, CH-46 Sea Knight, MH-60 Seahawk, AV-8B Harrier None
Combat EquipmentAboard (with Marines) A typical loadout can include up to  five M-1 tanks, 25 light armored vehicles, six M-198 howitzers, 68 HMMWVs, ten logistics vehicles, 12 5ton trucks, and a dozen or more amphibious assault vehicles None
Amphibious Craft Three LCACs (Landing Craft, Air Cushioned) or two LCUs (Landing Craft, Utility) None

As you can see, the ships are similar in physical size and capacity to carry people.  The other similarities are that they both float and the crews of both wear white dress uniforms.  Once you get past that, though, things get pretty different…

My last post ended with us stepping aboard.  The dissimilarity between the two types of ships – Navy amphibs and Disney cruisers – became more and more evident with each step that we took.  After being greeted by the enthusiastic Disney staff we were directed to our stateroom by a very nice and polite steward who looked at our boarding cards and kindly pointed us to the lifts (elevators) that would take us to the deck containing our stateroom.  As we strolled along the comfortably soft carpeted decks things were looking up- instead of being inconvenienced by such banal things as stairs we could travel between decks in style by hopping on a lift, just like a hotel ashore!  We quickly hopped aboard the closest lift and within seconds were on the deck (the “deck” being equivalent to the “floor” of a hotel) which contained our room.  By happenstance our lodgings for the week were about twenty feet away from the lift, so the convenience factor for the trip was at a family-pleasing high.

The Navy, however, is not so convenient.  Big deck amphibs have elevators, too, but they are reserved for moving aircraft between the hangar deck (where maintenance on the various aircraft is conducted) to the flight deck (where the the helicopters and attack jets take off and land).  For Marines and Sailors there are no such conveniences- instead you get to lug your gear up and down the maze of hard steel-decked passageways and ladderwells that stand between the brow of the ship and your stateroom or berthing area.  There are no kindly stewards to help you along the way, either.  My experience as a Marine aboard a Navy vessel is one of arrogant indifference- the sailors generally look upon Marines as a necessary evil that must be endured while they ply their trade of sailing the seven seas.  Despite the useleness of amphibious vessels without Marines aboard to storm hostile shores, our Navy brethren in the gator fleet continue to view us with disdain, much like an older brother looks at his annoying but inescapable younger sibling that never seems to be able to leave him alone.  Anyhow, the trip from the brow to your living space is a convoluted and confusing one to say the least.  Where cruise ships have ample space to move about in the passageways, Navy ships are unbelievably constricted, and Sailors revel in the opportunity to prove their inherent superiority by giving you the wrong directions to your destination that usually find you crawling through the bilges to the sailor’s explosive squeals of girlish glee.  Unlike the broad and open hallways of the Wonder the tight passages of the LHDs often make it difficult for two people to pass each other- especially when one of them is loaded up like a mule loaded for an expedition to the high sierras.  After grunting and groaning and struggling for what seems to be an eternity as you drag your stuff through tight hatches and narrow watertight doors you find your living space aboard the ship.  Needless to say, the point for finding your room goes to Disney.

Running score:                  Disney:                 5              U. S. Navy:          0

Back to the Wonder.  My cheerful family (really- still cheerful!) burst into our room and instantly felt at home.  It had all of the amenities of a nice hotel room, along with some you don’t get when you vacation in the Midwest.  We had a bed, a desk, and a couch- pretty standard.  The couch, however, magically transmogrified into a kidilicious bunk bed that enthralled our boys every night they got to sleep in it.  There was a closet with room for our clothes, the obligatory set of life jackets, a safe, a television, and an inroom shower and bathroom suite.  The total space was a third the size of a one car garage, but it was intelligently laid out and had more than enough space for us to spend our time at sea.  A big circular window (reminiscent of a gigantic porthole) looked out onto the beconing waters of the Pacific Ocean and the refrigerator begged to chill our bottles of wine.  So far so good!

On the LHD, however, things are a bit different.  The best part of finally reaching your living space is that it is all yours- the sailors live in a different part of the ship entirely and the Marine spaces are all dedicated to Marines.  The worst part, however, is that you get to spend the next six or so months with anywhere from three to fifteen of your closest friends…but that is the price of a free cruise, I suppose.  The Navy is one place where the differences between ranks are probably the most pronounced of all the services, and that affectation for privilege is personified by the amount of space afforded to the officers and men who serve aboard naval vessels.  During my last deployment aboard a big deck I lived in a stateroom built for four officers that was about half the size of our room on the Wonder – and there was no porthole to look out of and the head was down the hall.  Using the stateroom on the cruise ship as a comparison, there would be two senior officers, six to eight junior officers, and anywhere from twelve to sixteen junior enlisted Marines living in the same square footage.  When I sailed aboard the USS Austin (LPD-4, long since auctioned off to some South American Navy) I bunked with no less than twenty-six other Marines in a space only a third again larger than my room on the Wonder.  Needless to say, Navy ships are built for combat and not for comfort, and it shows…..the point for living spaces goes clearly to the Wonder.

Running score:                  Disney:                 6              U. S. Navy:          0

My Navy and Marine friends are by now pounding on their keyboards and cursing my very name for taking such a biased view of naval versus cruise sailing.  Before they start putting land mines under my welcome mat, however, I must give some credit where it is certainly due.  The Wonder is a cruise ship, and as such is designed for the comfort of its passengers.  Amphibs are designed to take thousands of fanatical Marines to distant shores where they will churn the surf with blood as they assault enemy held beaches.  In that regard, Marines are allowed to bring a lot of cool stuff onto the ship.  As you read earlier in this post, a typical Marine deployment brings with it things like howitzers (big cannons that shoot steel projectiles 30,000 meters into enemy territory), tanks (M1A1 Abrams Main Battle Tanks- among the best in the world), helicopters (Cobra and Hueys with guns, missiles, and rockets as well as Sea Knights and Super Stallions to carry personnel and equipment), and Harrier attack jets.  The 1,800 Marines on board each get to bring their own issued weapons, so there are rifles, pistols, machine guns, rocket launchers, and mortars by the truckload secured in armories around the ship.  For the sheer testosterone-laden coolness factor the U. S. Navy gets bonus points for embarking the most macho cargo of any ship on the water.  They get two points- one for having the tanks, howitzers, and other studly tools of land warfare stowed below decks and another for bringing their own air force with them everywhere they go.  Go Navy/Marine Corps!

Running score:                  Disney:                 6              U. S. Navy:          2

The Navy is coming back, and although the score is a four point spread the U. S. Navy doesn’t go down quietly….  Next, we’ll take a look at life underway and see how things shake out…

Terminal Leave Adventures (1): How a Disney Cruise is completely unlike an Amphibious Deployment

Posted by Mike Grice on

I know I promised another post or two on the joys of checking out, but before I introduce you to the most precious of all military documents (the checkout sheet) I must first drag you along on my first vacation since going on terminal leave. Terminal leave (“terminal” in milspeak) you may recall from previous postings is when you use up your remaining vacation time (leave) before your end of active service (EAS). It is, in effect, getting paid to do nothing. Or for going on vacation. I have done a little bit of nothing on terminal, which is nice, and am now headed off for a family vacation. Of terminal leave so far I am a fan!

My current phase of doing nothing includes taking the family on a Disney cruise. We live in San Diego and the Disney corporation was kind enough to park one of their most excellent cruise ships – the Disney Wonder – in Los Angeles for a couple of years. For the record and in the interest of full disclosure, I absolutely love pretty much everything Disney. I love the parks, the movies, and how they have managed to create a magical world that every kid (and some adults like me) loves, even though as they approach their teenage years they will deny it. If I could work at Disney it would be a dream come true! Hmm…maybe a career change that involves working for a mouse….but I digress.

I have spent no small amount of time aboard United States Navy vessels. Big ones, like the nuclear aircraft carrier Dwight D. Eisenhower, little amphibious landing craft, and pretty much everything in between. The bulk of my time at sea and in port has been aboard the various ships of the Navy’s Amphibious Fleet, which is affectionately known as the “Gator Navy”. There are several different classifications of ships in the gator navy, but they can all be broken down into two basic categories- Big Decks and Small Decks. Big Decks are the size and shape of World War II aircraft carriers- huge flat flight decks that hold dozens of helicopters and attack jets as well as a huge well deck below that holds amphibious vehicles and small boats. And well over a thousand Marines in addition to the Navy crew. Small Decks are just that- smaller ships with smaller flight decks capable of holding a few helicopters. They also have well decks and storage spaces for amphibious tractors and boats, and berthing for hundreds of Marines.

This is the first time, however, that I will be getting underway on a no-kidding cruise ship. I have been on plenty of day excursions in Hawaii and Alaska, but never have I or my family boarded a ginormous seagoing hotel. So for the next few posts I am going to write about the differences between deploying with the United States Navy’s gator fleet and shipping out on a ship from Mickey’s armada. In addition to comparing and contrasting the differences, I am going to keep score and by the time we’re done you will be able to make an informed decision as to what you would like to do with a week of your life- join the Navy or cruise with Disney. Pick the winner and place your bets now!

Today’s communiqué is all about the first part of any shipboard trip- getting on board. I have to start with a few blinding flashes of the obvious (BFOs- a classic TLA or Three Letter Acronym), the first of which is that the biggest difference between the two is that you get to take your family with you on a cruise and you get to take everyone you work with on a deployment. Each has its pros and cons depending on your situation- if you are single, then a cruise with Mickey and crew probably isn’t your bag. If your family drives you nuts, then a deployment may not be such a bad gig. At any rate it all comes out in the wash.

Back to today’s theme, which is a side by side comparison of the boarding process. Boarding a ship is a little different from any other form of transportation. When you board a plane, for example, you go to the airport, check your bags, and run the gauntlet of security to make it to your plane. Once you get to your gate, a few hapless gate agents line you up and herd you onto the plane. Once aboard, you hope for space to shove your bag and wedge yourself into your seat. Only then does your trip really start. Boarding a ship, however, is a horse of a completely different color.

The actual process of getting onto a seagoing vessel is the same whether you are boarding a cruise ship or an aircraft carrier. The difference is in the details. Let’s take a look at just what those differing details are…..

The first part is getting to the pier. Ships, unlike airplanes, require huge bodies of water to sail in. As such, you need to get to where the ship is so that you can climb aboard and begin your cruise. In the military, the trip to the ship usually begins hours and hours before you actually embark. In typical martial fashion, everyone must meet at their place of work, draw their equipment from the armory and have their equipment inspected, piled up, unpiled, reinspected, and then loaded onto a big truck for the trip to the pier. Only after several pointless and unpleasant hours of milling about do you get to board the bus for the ride down to meet the ship. After answering “here!” to countless rollcalls, your bus rolls down the road at a blistering speed of 55 miles an hour and you are on your way.

For a pleasure cruise it is a little different. We got up, packed our bags, got into our car, and drove to the pier. Coffee and snacks in hand, there were smiling faces all around as we sped towards our vacation, well mostly smiles, except when the kids were fighting…which works out to be about 50% of the time. At any rate, we drove straight to the pier and parked our car. It took less than three hours, over half of which was on the highway. Time difference between the two: about 12 hours. The first point goes to Disney.

Running score: Disney: 1 U. S. Navy: 0

Okay, so the first part of the journey is over. As some famous Chinese philosopher once said, even a journey of 10,000 miles begins with a single step. Our first step brought us to the pier, and now we need to look at the steps that will take us aboard the ship. The Marine bus arrives at the pier, and Marines step off the bus. The pier is almost industrial in it character- lots of machinery about, and all of it looks uniformly drab. “Battleship Grey” is the color of the ships, and even the equipment is either painted the same drab color or is so grimy that it blends into the monotonously dull background. Ropes and equipment are scattered about, and as you try not to break your ankle by tripping over it there is a Marine, usually a Gunnery Sergeant, howling for you to line up and get counted. This goes on for about an hour, after which the Gunny happily reports that all of the Marines are present. I have always found the whole process odd, though, because unless someone mysteriously vaporized while the bus was on the road the same number of people should get off of it as got on. That concept, however, flies in the face of hundreds of years of tradition, so the repetitive counting continues.

At the cruise terminal things are a little different. I parked the car in the lot (after being directed there by a very cheerful and helpful lady at the security gate) and within seconds there was a passenger shuttle pulling up behind us. I had barely started unloading bags from the car when the driver was taking them from me and loading them aboard. Within a minute or two, we were riding to the terminal, bags in hand and smiles back on our faces. Time difference: 58 minutes, and I didn’t even have to take rollcall. Point to Disney.

Running score: Disney: 2 U. S. Navy: 0

Back to the Navy pier. After being successfully counted, Marines head over to the truck that contains their baggage. When you deploy you tend to take a lot of stuff- usually a seabag (duffel bag to landlubbers), a parachute bag (even though you don’t have a parachute; it is stuffed with other things), an enormous backpack, and a gym bag or two. With the exception of your gym bag all of those items of luggage are jammed in the back of a truck that you helped load back at your unit parking lot. In true coolie fashion, you all line up and a few intrepid souls climb aboard the truck to unload your gear. Bags and packs are soon flying out of the truck and make their way down the chain of Marines where it is piled up for distribution. After an hour or so of hearing Marines call out luggage locations to each other – “Smith- seabag! Jones- pack!”- you have gathered your tiny mountain of personal equipment into a mound. The best part is that you get to lug the stuff aboard yourself. Good thing you are in shape…

At the Disney pier our cheerful driver pulled up to the curb and helped offload our luggage. Another cheerful soul, a porter this time, took our luggage and loaded it on a cart. At the cost of a five dollar tip our family’s gear was wheeled off to the ship, where the staff would deliver it to our room that afternoon. We shouldered our carryon bags (a total of three between the four of us) and headed for the terminal. Time saved: an hour. Backs not strained: four. Joy at not lugging it all ourselves: priceless! Point Disney.

Running score: Disney: 3 U. S. Navy: 0

Off to board the ship. In military parlance it is known as “crossing the brow”. I am not exactly sure why, but that is what they call it. At any rate, you grab all of your gear and do you best Sherpa imitation as you stagger beneath your private mountain of militaria. In the egalitarian fashion peculiar to the American military each Marine is expected to tote his load aboard- no lackeys or porters about to take it aboard. Up the ladder (navy-speak for stairs) you go, grunting and struggling to carry as much of your gear up the steep series of ramps and stairs. As you reach the top of the gangplank (which is no small feat, because the gangplank to the ship is dozens of feet off the ground) you must unceremoniously dump your load and request permission to come aboard from the first Sailor that you see: the bemused and usually arrogant sailor known as the Officer of the Deck, or OOD. Much to his unbridled glee he watches you divest yourself of your seabag, pack, parachute bag, and whatever else you are carrying in order to perform the obligatory boarding dance. With a groan and the weighty thump of military luggage hitting the steel deck you begin the age old nautical tradition. As the “guest” coming aboard the Captain’s ship you are expected to come to the position of attention, turn to face the national ensign (the ensign is the nation’s flag that flies from the yardarm jutting from the back of the ship), salute, and then face the OOD, salute again, and formally request permission to come aboard. The OOD returns your salute, grants your request, and chuckles as you reassume you pack mule impersonation and stagger past him and on to the ship. His tittering ceases only as the next poor Marine arrives before him, his presence announced by the crash of olive drab luggage slamming into the deckplates.

Again, Disney presents a completely different experience. Instead of a cluttered and dingy Navy pier, we passed through a pair of open doors into the cool air conditioned interior of a cruise passenger terminal. Not two feet from the door was a pleasant young lady who asked to see our travel documents. With a smile she pointed us to the escalator (!) that would bring us to the boarding processing center. As we emerged from the top of the lift we saw travellers similar to ourselves queued up at a couple of long counters. Several very nice and attentive staffmembers asked us if we had completed our travel documents (“not all of them….” “Well, please let me help!”) and after taking a few minutes to complete our boarding process, we went through security and headed for the ship. The security line was pretty much like the one at the airport- a metal detector for people and an x-ray machine for carryons. The good news, however, was that liquids are allowed on board. This is pretty important, because we had three bottles of wine in our carryons- three bottles which would have landed me in the ship’s brig had I attempted to take them aboard a Navy ship! We made it through security (without removing our belts and shoes!) we were greeted by several cheery gentlemen wearing big white Mickey Mouse hands. They waved us forward (hard to mistake that gesture with such impressive four fingered mitts!) and asked each of my sons to give them “four”. Laughing as they did so, my kids were eating it up. So were their parents! We presented our boarding cards, and with a happy “Welcome Aboard!” we walked out towards the ship. A pair of photographers snapped a family vacation shot (“Smile! You can pick up your pictures onboard!”) and we were finally about to climb aboard the Disney Wonder. Fortunately, the escalator had brought us up to the level of the gangplank, so we didn’t have a single stair to climb. We walked along the covered gangplank (no beating sun or rain would sully our approach…) until we crossed over to the ship itself. Two lovely twentysomething girls in immaculate white uniforms enthusiastically welcomed us to the ship asked us our name. “The Grices,” said my oldest son. Lifting a microphone to her lips, the lovely young lady announced our arrival. “Please welcome the Grice Family to the Disney Wonder!”, and as we stepped onto the luxurious carpet we were greeted by the applause of a waiting receiving line of the ship’s officers and crew. And I didn’t even have to ask permission to come aboard. No question- another point for Disney!

Running score: Disney: 4 U. S. Navy: 0

Well, the Disney Cruise Line has a pretty impressive lead so far, and we just got aboard the ship. Will the Navy catch up in the days ahead? Will Disney falter? Only those intrepid enough to keep reading will find out…….

Completing the arc

Posted by Mike Grice on

Stories have arcs.  Good stories do, anyway.  Looking at my career as a story, it certainly seems to fits the mold.

The arc started when I was in high school.  I really wanted to join the military, and after watching every war movie ever made and talking to recruiter after recruiter, I made my decision and committed to the Marine Corps.  At the ripe old age of 17 (and with my mother signing the consent form!) I raised my right hand and swore an oath to support and defend the Constitution of the United States, and with that pledge I began my new life.

I didn’t immediately ship out for bootcamp, however.  I was still in my senior year of high school, so I spent six months or so in the Delayed Entry Program, which meant that I had signed on the dotted line and was waiting until graduation for my very first set of orders sending me off to recruit training.  The arc started with me raising my hand, and was very slowly rising in anticipation of the big day when I would be introduced to my newest and bestest friends in the world- my Drill Instructors.

Time passed and the big day arrived.  It was June 24th, 1985, and my recruiter picked me up for my ride to the airport.  It was early and dark that Monday morning, and I was trepidatious, to say the least.  With a lump in my throat, I hugged my mom goodbye and headed off in pursuit of my destiny, I suppose, or at least for a shot at seeing if I had what it took to become a United States Marine.

After a plane ride to San Diego and a bus ride to the Marine Corps Recruit Depot I learned that I had made the biggest mistake of my life, or so it seemed at the time.  My first indication that things were changing was watching the gate guards spit on the bus when we entered the base- not an omen of happy times ahead.  I won’t bore you with the details, but the next 13 weeks or so weren’t much better.  I did graduate that September (0n Friday the 13th, no less), so the arc of my story rose like a rocket- I was on my way!

I went to my Military Occupation Specialty school (if you are curious, I was an 0844 Field Artillery Fire Controlman, which means I was the guy who calculated the information that was used by cannoneers to point their guns and hit targets miles away- pretty interesting stuff, especially considering that back then because we used paper charts and sliderules to compute the firing data) and upon graduation joined my reserve unit.  I was there for a long time as I worked my way through college.  Ultimately, I decided that I liked this Marine Corps thing and raised my right hand again- this time to commit myself to the arduous and rigorous opportunity presented by Officer Candidate School.

In a serious case of deja vu a different recruiter picked me up before different dawn, and I was just as nervous as I had been riding the airport years earlier.  After a very familiar plane ride and introduction to a new set of newest and  bestest friends I found myself on the miserable hamster wheel that is Officer Candidate School.  I again wondered what I had gotten myself into and wondered just how I could get out of it.  Fortunately, I knuckled down and endured along with my fellow candidates.  It wasn’t any fun!  It was much more difficult than recruit training, but that is OK.  It should be, because as Thucydides, the revered ancient Greek scholar observed, “he who graduates the harshest school, succeeds.”  If pain and exhaustion are metrics of the severity of the school, then I was indeed successful!  A bit more gaunt and a lot more physically fit after an incredible ten week long experience I graduated and traded my Staff Sergeant’s chevrons for the gold bars of a second lieutenant.  Very exciting!

My arc continued to rise as I had the time of my life.  Leading Marines, learning about my profession (I chose to become an Artillery Officer because I liked my time as an enlisted gunner so much), and seeing the world was a fantastic and wonderful experience.  There were parts that were miserable, but they were far outweighed by the sheer joy of the dynamic and exciting career that I was fortunate to pursue.

That arc continued to rise through peacetime deployments all over the country and overseas, fighting in a couple of wars, divorcing, remarrying, having kids, leading Marines, and commanding numerous units and organizations.  I had joined a true brotherhood of like minded souls who were all headed in the same direction, with the same goals, aspirations, ideals, and frames of mind.  Despite a few very bad days, my arc rose higher and higher as I pursued the career that I truly loved.

As I have written before, however, all good (and great!) things come to an end.  After nearly three decades in uniform it became time to leave.  My arc, which had been rising steadily higher and higher plummeted like the proverbial man in the barrel trying his luck over Niagara falls.  My arc doesn’t look like nice symmetric bell curve, but instead is more like the first part of a rollercoaster- moving up slowly, then more steeply, then reaching a precipice before plummeting back down to where it started.

Don’t get me wrong.  I am not complaining because  it was my choice to change the vector of my arc.  The ride down from the peak was disconcerting, but I have learned that life is a lot more like a rollercoaster than I had thought.  My ride down the coaster did not end in a disastrous crash of smashed cars, but instead rocketed in a new direction and is now set to rise up a completely new, exciting, and different arc.  It hasn’t quite started yet because just I spent months waiting to ship out to recruit training after signing my contract I now  have some time after my last day at work as a Marine before my terminal leave expires, which is when I will fully rejoin the world I came from.  As a wise man once said about transition, the next adventure awaits, and I am looking forward to finding the next rising arc that will take me into the exciting future that lies ahead.  The good news is that my hair is getting long enough to stream in the wind as the rollercoaster picks up speed…

Death as a way of life

Posted by Mike Grice on

This post has nothing to do with transition, but instead deals with an integral part of being a Marine.  Just a few days ago, on September 19th, a Cobra attack helicopter crashed while conducting a training flight at Camp Pendleton, California.  Two Marines died, good men both, as they trained and prepared to defend our country.  It is a tragedy in the truest sense,  but it is also sad and inevitable part of what we do.  Many of my friends have asked me over the years what I thought about death and dying, and it is a very difficult question to answer for someone outside the profession of arms.  So in an effort to provide a little insight into death and how it affects those of us who travel with Death as a constant companion I am writing this post.

The military is an inherently dangerous business, and by definition a violent one.  In time of war it is expected that some of us will die.  That is the cold cost of doing business; the enemy gets a vote, and he delivers his ballot in the form of a bullet or a bomb.  Just as a fireman battles conflagrations Marines fight our nation’s enemies.  Sometimes the fire wins and a firefighter falls.  Sometimes a Marine does everything right but a sniper’s bullet finds him anyway.  There is no fairness, there is no equity.  It is what it is and we have all come to terms with it.

In my case, my reckoning with mortality came on a September day in Ar Ramadi, Iraq.  I had been in country for a few weeks, and it was my first combat tour.  I lived and operated out of Forward Operating Base Junction City,  which was also known as FOB Ramadi.  It was a vast fort-like compound that held a thousand or so of us, and it was in the heart of the Sunni Triangle at a time when the insurgency was approaching its peak.

My first days were disturbing, to say the least.  Tanks and armored vehicles rumbled by as attack helicopters flew their patrolling orbits overhead.  Fighter jets streaked by thousands of feet overhead, and gunfire ebbed and flowed in the distance.  Our FOB was attacked by rockets or mortars pretty much daily, and sometimes several times a day.  I found myself thrust into this maelstrom, in charge of my Marines and Sailors but less experienced in actual combat than a lot of them.

I couldn’t sleep.  The helicopters never stopped flying, and the tanks came and went at all hours.  Charlie Med, our field hospital, was a hundred yards away and the casualties arrived around the clock.  It was a frantic place, one with seemingly no rhyme or reason, and I was disoriented by the whole experience.  My heart felt that it would explode with every incoming rocket; the thump of mortars in the distance made me weak at the thought of a steel projectile flying through the air with me beneath it as it hit.  I ducked at the small arms fire, and warily looked for cover to dive behind when the next attack hit.  I was a bit of a nervous wreck- the fear of the unknown became palpable.  I was afraid of death, and the fear of dying unsettled me to no end.

Then came that day in September.  I was supposed to go to a nearby base for a briefing- riding in my armored HMMWV and travelling with a platoon of Cavalry in vehicles just like mine, except where I had an armored roof they had turrets with machine guns.

We met at a staging lot at 0815, and as we stood in a loose circle of drivers and passengers discussing the route rockets screamed into the base.  One struck a barracks about 100 meters or so away, another landed in a motor pool, and a third impacted just outside the DFAC (Dining FACility- fancy new term for chowhall).  In an instant, one Marine was killed and a Soldier was mortally wounded.  They didn’t do anything wrong- fate had just snuffed them out.  It was arbitrary.  They never had a chance.   It was capricious.  They never saw it coming.  It was the spectre of Death incarnate; his cold and bony finger touched them, and in that instant they joined the ranks of the fallen.

We had no time to reflect or mourn.  Five minutes later we were on the road, passing through the redoubt and into Indian country as it was commonly known.  We drove about five minutes, and slowed our advance to cross a bridge that led to the other base.  Our little four vehicle patrol had no sooner driven onto the narrow span when machine guns began barking their angry chorus as a firefight erupted on both banks of the river.  The bridge was cut off, and we found ourselves in the extremely uncomfortable position of being on a bridge between to forces that were shooting at each other, and we couldn’t quite figure out which side was which.

That didn’t last long.  Rocket propelled grenades hissed across the narrow river and rocked a bus onto its side in an explosion of bright flame and black smoke.  We don’t have RPGs- but the insurgents do.  Red tracers flew in the direction where the RPGs came from- we use red tracers, so the gunners in our tiny convoy opened up on consonance with our compatriots on the river bank.  Soon enough, there were rockets, grenades, and bullets flying around everywhere- and all I could do was sit there and watch.  I was riveted to my seat.  What do I do?  Get out of the vehicle (our training said no- never leave an armored vehicle, but the exploding bus was a compelling argument to get out!) or open the window and start shooting? (Again, our training stayed my hand- I could not identify a clear target- and without Positive Identification, or PID, I wasn’t supposed to shoot).

So I sat and watched.  The thump and crack of heavy machine guns was accompanied by the staccato rip of their smaller cousins, and in an eternity that lasted a minute or so the far end of the bridge opened up and we started moving again.  In less time than it takes to read this sentence we were pulling into our destination, FOB Hurricane Point.

I wasn’t shaking, but adrenaline had replaced all of the blood in my system.  I was sweating, hot, cold, hysterical, aloof, thirsty, nauseous- it was a wrenching and visceral rollercoaster of feelings and emotions.  I stepped from my truck and looked around.  My cavalry friends were joking and laughing and talking about football.  My more experienced Marines broke out a pack of smokes and lit up.  I couldn’t believe it- the most harrowing experiences of my life had just happened, and it wasn’t even 0900 yet!

It was then that I felt a something come over me.  My pulse slowed, and my breathing came back to normal.  The pensive tension that had sat like a festering knot in my gut melted away, and for some reason I felt that everything would be all right.  In an instant, I passed a threshold into a different place, and became a different person.  It was as though someone had placed their hand on my shoulder, and with their touch all of my fears fled back into the recesses from which they came.

I had joined the ranks of the fatalists.  Fatalist sounds like a harsh word, but it really isn’t.  There are two types of people in combat; those who are afraid to die and those who have accepted that they will.  I left the camp of the former and joined the happier band of the latter, the band of men and women who had experienced the epiphany of mortality.  I came to accept that death was inevitable; maybe in the next minute, maybe tomorrow, or maybe at the end of a long and happy life.  We are all going to die.  What we are able to do in the face of that staggering knowledge defines us, however.  When the weight of fear fell away I found myself free to lead and fight and kill and, if necessary, die without worrying about it.  It was a true revelation.

I still feel that hand on my shoulder from time to time when things get stressful.  It is not an uncomfortable feeling, really, but actually one that is a little reassuring.  The hand on my shoulder is a bony one, and it belongs to Death.  It is his reminder to me that he is coming, and some day he will take me away.  All Marines feel his presence, because he is always at our side, reminding us that we all join him sooner or later.  On Monday afternoon Captain Jeffrey Bland and 1st Lieutenant Thomas Heitmann slipped the surly bonds of earth in an attack helicopter and Death took them before they could return home.  They died as any one of us could, and there but by the grace of God go any one of us.  Death comes for us all, and in our business he shows up frequently.  It is the knowledge that he is forever at your side that frees your soul, because living with fear isn’t really living at all.  Knowing he is there, patiently waiting to take you to the other side, is a truly liberating feeling.  He cannot be cheated; he always wins the race to take you across the mythical river Styx.

Not today, maybe not tomorrow, but someday.

Someday….