Tag Archives: military

Networking and the MEA

Posted by Mike Grice on

The other night I had the opportunity to attend a Marine Executive Association (MEA)-West meeting.  What is the MEA, you ask?  I’m glad you did, because it is a great resource for transitioning servicemen and women because it leads to something we all need: jobs.

The MEA is a networking organization where people like me who are leaving the service can meet others who are transitioning as well as business people who need quality people to join their organizations.  It is informal (after all, the only rank anyone has after they get out is “Marine”) and informative, because most of transitioning military types really don’t know that much about civilian employment.

Here is the writeup about the association from their website (http://www.marineea.org/):

“The Marine Executive Association is a national, volunteer, non-profit organization of former and current active duty Marines who provide assistance to Marines transitioning from active duty to reserve/retired status, leaving the Corps at the end of obligated service or moving from one civilian career/job to another. Transition assistance includes: Resume review; Job hunting and interview tips and techniques; Job posting by employers to the MEA web site; Resume posting by Marines for employer download; and resume and interview coaching by volunteer Marine. The MEA provides a weekly E-Mail list of all jobs that have been posted during the previous week and resumes posted for employer download, review and screening.”

The association is open to all services, and in the most recent meeting that I attended there were Air Force, Army, and Navy vets there too.  Transition is the great equalizer and now that we all dress the same we share the same concerns and have the same need for employment, so the inter-service rivalry goes right out the window.  We’re all in the same boat now.

The meetings are monthly occurrences.  On the third Wednesday of the month the attendees gather to socialize and have a drink at Iron Mike’s, which is the Staff Noncommissioned Officer’s club located in Camp Pentleton’s South Mesa events center.  After a half hour or so, we all migrate over to a meeting room where a guest speaker will talk to the crowd about what it’s like on the other side of the fence.  Our speaker for the last meeting was Kim Shepherd, the Chief Executive Officer of the Alfred P. Sloan award winning placement firm Decision Toolbox.  She gave us tremendous insights into the business world, with a strong emphasis on how to evaluate yourself in order to find what you are really interested in doing in your next career.  Kim was followed by a group of business leaders from the Los Angeles area who are interested in helping veterans learn more about the business world.  They are a group of great Americans who want to help vets find jobs, and they shared some great ideas and recommendations to help veterans make it from job seeker to job finder.

One of the great aspects of MEA meetings is that we get to hear about the corporate sector from corporate professionals, and the insights that they give are priceless.  It isn’t every day that an industry leader takes the time to mentor a pool of job seekers, but it happens at the MEA.  Research has shown that roughly 80% of jobs are found through networking – so getting to know people is certainly in your best interest as you transition!

After the guest speakers are finished we all introduce ourselves.  This is a chance to give your “elevator pitch”, which is a thirty to sixty second sound bite about yourself and what you are looking for.  You never get a second chance to make a first impression, and by standing up in front of a room full of people it gives you a little practice.  It also lets the employers in the room know if you are someone that fits their needs, and I have personally witnessed vets get job interviews on the spot after the introductions are finished; such is the power of networking!

The introductions are the last part of the structured meeting.  Once they are completed the formal part of the meeting is done it is a little like a high school dance as job seekers work their way across the room to meet up with businesspeople who have pitched the opportunities available in their organizations.  It is also when old friends catch up and new friendships are forged, or in other words, the networking tree grows a little stronger and new branches sprout.

It is a great opportunity to get out there and see what the job market is like.  Once you get plugged into MEA-West, you can begin receiving emails from the head of the organization.  He sends out dozens of emails each week, and each one contains anywhere from one to ten or twenty job opportunities.  Many of these opportunities are first listed in Steve’s emails, and a lot of veterans have found employment through the MEA.  One former Marine who left active duty in the 1990s shared that every job he has taken since taking off his uniform has been through MEA-West networking, and he is far from alone.  Even in this tough employment market there are jobs out there.  Networking with the MEA will help you find them, so find out where and when the next meeting goes and belly up to the bar!

__________

Lessons Learned:

1.  Networking works.  In today’s economic uncertainty there are literally millions of resumes flying around, and the stories about people who have submitted hundreds or thousands of resumes without finding a job are constantly in the news.  The vast majority of employment opportunities are found through someone you know, so increase your chances by getting out there and meeting people.

2.  Help yourself as you network.  If you don’t have personalized business cards yet, then get some printed up.  I personally recommend that you go to a stationary shop and have a set professionally done with only your name and contact information printed on the card.  This is for two reasons: first, you are looking for a job, and it is not the best idea to use the card from your current job to find a new one and second, handing a professional looking and feeling card with your name, phone number, and email address saves both you and the person you are interacting with from writing that info down on a cocktail napkin.  Anybody can print out a flimsy card on their computer, but remember that the first impression is the most important.  Do you want to be remembered as the cheapskate with homemade cards or the kind of person who puts some effort into finding a job?

3.  Carry a resume.  I will write a lot in the future about how to prepare a resume, but attending a networking meeting without your resume (and personalized business cards) is a bit like going to a nightclub in your pajamas – sure, you’re there but you aren’t really ready to participate.  Many employers are looking to immediately fill positions, and the guy or gal with a resume will get the job before the one who doesn’t.  Don’t be that person with empty hands when an employer asks for your resume!

4.  There are countless networking organizations out there.  MEA is just one, but there are commensurate organizations for all branches of the armed forces, for federal employees, civic organizations, etc.  They are all tremendous resources that you can tap for free, and you will certainly meet some great people along the way that will help you along the path to employment.

The little things, part 2: Health insurance. Who knew?

Posted by Mike Grice on

As a uniformed member of the U. S. Armed Forces I have been very fortunate when it comes to health care.  No matter what malady I came down with or injury I suffered medical services were always there, and they were always free.  Everything is covered, from bullet wounds to brain surgery to chipped teeth.  Pretty nice benefit to have, particularly considering the occupational hazards that come with fighting our nation’s wars.

I have never had to really think of healthcare as something outside the purview of my job, but with my transition from active duty to retirement it rose in prominence from “interesting” to “important”.  The need to obtain health coverage was discussed at the various transition briefs, but I didn’t really pay close attention because the actual date of my reintroduction to the civilian world seemed so distant.  Time passed, though, and before I knew it my EAS was just around the corner.  So, after spending some time rooting through the enormous pile of transition related pamphlets, booklets, and notes that I had amassed over the last few months I found what I was looking for: a handout from the TAP/TAMP class that had “TRICARE: Transitioning from Active Duty to Retirement” emblazoned across the top.

Score!

I read the handout, and it had just enough information to point me in the right direction so that I could find a real person to explain it all to me.  In my case, that person is a very nice lady who works on the 6th floor of the Camp Pendleton Naval Hospital, and she took pity on my when I showed up in front of her counter in my quest to ensure that I didn’t enter civilian life unprepared and uninsured.

She also educated me on the ins and outs of health insurance.  It turns out that there are several different insurance products that I could choose, and each had advantages and disadvantages when compared to the others.  Although I am eligible for healthcare through the Veterans Administration, my family isn’t.  Needless to say taking care of myself and not my family is a non-starter, so I had some decisions to make.

The first decision was which level of TRICARE did I want?  There are three basic levels.  As a retiree my family and I are automatically enrolled and covered in two plans:  TRICARE Standard and TRICARE Extra.  These plans don’t have monthly or annual fees, but instead are pay as you go, or “cost for use” plans, so although they are free if you never use them, it can get expensive if you need medical care.  The difference between the two plans is based on providers; for Standard you can be seen my doctors outside the network, but you pay higher cost shares than Extra, in which you select providers within the network and receive a discount.  Here is a link to a TRICARE flyer that gives much more information on the programs: http://www.triwest.com/en/beneficiary/tricare-benefits/handbooks-and-brochures/Standard_Extra_Flyer.pdf

The other available product is TRICARE Prime.  For Prime you have to enroll and pay an annual fee of $520 a year, which seems like a lot when compared to the free healthcare options is incredibly inexpensive when compared to what people in the private sector have to pay for similar coverage.  That said, it is a benefit that military types have earned it the hard way through at least twenty years of service, a lot of which is hard on the body.  As a result, many retirees have conditions (such as combat wounds, partial deafness, and early onset osteoarthritis for example) that could be classified as “pre-existing conditions” and limit accessibility to a new healthcare provider.  So it all works out.  Here is a link to another flyer that has information on all of the available TRICARE options (of which there are a lot more than I cover in this post):  http://www.triwest.com/en/beneficiary/tricare-benefits/handbooks-and-brochures/tricare-choices-at-a-glance/TRICARE_ChoicesatGlance.pdf

I made my decision.  Prime it would be.  As with all things governmental, though, there are a few wickets to hit in order to enroll.  The first and most important is that you must enroll before your last day in the service in order to avoid any gaps in coverage.  If you don’t seek out the TRICARE office, fill out the paperwork, and give them a check before your retirement date your level of coverage defaults to Standard or Prime.  It can be quite a risk because the potential costs associated with care of you and your family can be staggering should something happen when you are not covered by Prime.  If you don’t get around to enrolling, however, don’t despair.  You can still sign up, but you will have to wait until the next month for coverage to start.  TRICARE follows what is known as the “20th of the month” rule, which means that as long as you enroll by the 20th of the current month your coverage will begin on the 1st day of the next month.  Wait until the 21st, however, and your coverage begins on the 1st of the following month.  Needless to say, it behooves you to sign up before you get out.

There are several factors to consider when you sign up for TRICARE Prime.  As a Marine I never had to select a doctor; all I had to do was go to the Aid Station or hospital and I would be taken care of.  As a retiree, however, the option of wandering into a Regimental Aid Station to be seen evaporated.  I needed to determine who my doctor would be.

Noting my puzzled expression, the very nice TRICARE administrator talked me through the process of selecting a provider: first, she checked to see if there was a clinic within 30 minutes of my home.  If there was a clinic, then that is where I would go for care.  It turns out there was a clinic, but she quickly determined that its patient load was full, so I would have to find another provider.  She printed out a list of possibilities (including pediatricians), and after a quick telephone conversation with my spouse we picked providers.  This step is particularly important for retirees who are moving to a new home because they may or may not have access to a clinic or even a TRICARE provider.  For those moving back to the country or out of the country (because TRICARE is administered differently overseas) make sure to surf through the TRICARE website to see what options pertain to your situation:  http://www.tricare.mil/.

So, after about a half hour with the most helpful and cheerful TRICARE administrator I had completed the application process.  She typed my information into her computer and presented me with a filled-in application which I reviewed and signed.  I handed it back along with a check for $130.00 to cover the first quarterly premium.  She gave me some advice, too.  “Call the TRICARE toll free telephone number in about a month,” she said, “to confirm that you are enrolled and that they received your payment.  If you don’t double check and something doesn’t go through you are not covered.  So do yourself a favor and double check!”

Sound advice.  She had obviously been around government agencies for a while.

So off I went, happy as a clam.  And then I remembered that there didn’t seem to be anything about teeth in the flyer.  Hmmm…

Sure enough, another lesson!  Medical care is different than dental care, so if I wanted my family and I to have dental coverage, I would have to apply for that, too.  And pay for it.  Retirement is getting expensive!

__________

Lessons Learned:

1.  Do some research.  There is always a table piled high with flyers and pamphlets at transition courses and seminars, so do yourself a favor and grab one of eveything that is available.  Then, over a cup of coffee or a cocktail, sort it all out and file it away because you never know when one of those bits of paper will prove worth its weight in gold.  For me, it was the TRICARE transition flyer because it was like the Rosetta Stone of post-service healthcare.  It gave me the basic information I needed to find the right people and ensure that my family and I were covered.  The internet is great, having a sheet of paper with all the info you need precludes frantic Google searches.

2.  Don’t let your retirement date pass without enrolling in TRICARE Prime or you are taking a serious risk.  Even if you don’t want Prime, find out where your base TRICARE office is and sit down with one of the helpful administrators – they are pros who will make sure you fully understand what you are entitled to as well as what the various programs offer.

3.  If you are moving then it behooves you to closely examine which option pertains to you.  This is particularly important for those going overseas because it gets complicated very quickly.  So, if you are headed back to the family homestead on the great plains or the mountains of Tibet make sure to get all of your questions answered before you pull chocks and hit the road – TRICARE administrators are difficult to find at the base of Mount Everest.

4.  Talk it over with your family.  They get a vote.  Healthcare is a big deal; indeed a much bigger deal than I had thought.  Make sure you make the best decision for you and your family that you can.

The little things, part 1: A new ID card

Posted by Mike Grice on

So it had finally happened.  The big day had arrived and I found myself suddenly thrust back out into the real world.  Crossing the threshold of transition is more than just metaphorical, however.  There are still quite a few things that have to be accomplished before the process of becoming a civilian again is complete.

One important “little thing” is obtaining the official token of retirement: the blue identification card.  It is the key to your benefits after leaving active duty; benefits like health care, shopping at the base exchange or commissary, and the proof of your service that allows you to drive onto base.  Unlike your active duty ID card, however, it doesn’t require renewal every three years.  It expires on your 65th birthday, where upon I suppose I will have to drive down to the Pass and Identification office and obtain a new card (65 is the magic age when retirees become eligible for Medicare, and thus require a new form of identification).

So it is important to get one’s retired ID card as soon as possible after the last day of terminal leave has vanished into the night.  Technically, if you don’t, you are violating the law because the Armed Forces Identity Card has a few features that your random state issued ID or driver’s license doesn’t.  For example, it is a “smart card” with a chip inside that can be used to access government computers.  Not that you can really do anything particularly nefarious with such access, but with your transition comes the end of your right to get on government computer systems.  It also contains your official Geneva Convention status in case you are captured by the enemy (although this is particularly unlikely in Southern California, you never know when it might be useful).  In my case, I was Category IV, which meant I was a commissioned officer.  When I was enlisted was a Category III.  I know that because it said so right on my ID card.  Again, not a huge deal, but with my retirement I became uncategorized.  Had the US been invaded on New Year’s Day and I had been captured and the invader checked my ID card then I would have been  thrown in a POW camp instead of being released.  That in and of itself is reason enough to get my new ID.

So off to the Pass and ID office I went.  It seemed to be a straightforward process: go to the office and turn in your active ID for a retired one.  It was straightforward, but in typical fashion it wasn’t so simple.

I showed up and signed in on the clipboard that sat beneath the proclamation “SIGN IN HERE”.  I then sat down in a government issued plastic chair with about a dozen other people who were waiting for new identity cards.  I was halfway through reading the September issue of Consumer Reports (always a good read) when my name was called.

I walked up to the counter.   “Can I help you?” asked the clerk.  “Sure.  I need to turn in my active ID card for a retired one,” I answered as I reached for my wallet.

“OK.  Two forms of ID please.  And your DD-214.”

D’oh.

ID’s I had.  My DD-214 I didn’t.

The DD-214 is the single most important document that a separating serviceman or woman will ever receive.  It is the source document that proves your service; it shows when you entered and when you left active duty as well as the recording your eligibility for VA benefits, healthcare, reenlistment (in case you can’t handle civilian life and want to get back in) and apparently also a retired ID card.

I resigned myself to another trip to the Pass and ID office.  I should have known better, but I didn’t.  The thing about being on active duty is that you tend to take a lot of things for granted; after all, you are in every computer data base imaginable.  All anyone has to do is look at your ID card, input your social security number, and pull your data up.  Unfortunately, once you retire the great big data eraser comes in and purges you from the system, as was the case for me on the first business day after the New Year’s Day weekend:

03 Jan 2012 @ 0243  MOL  LTCOL GRICE, MICHAEL D. was dropped from your unit

With that pithy little message I was erased.  With my erasure rose the importance of the DD-214, because it was an artifact of my service that could not be summarily deleted.  And without it, as I found, things were much more difficult or impossible to accomplish.

So the next day I returned with my two forms of ID and my DD-214.  I was able to finish reading the September issue of Consumer Reports (good thing, too!  I was wondering which bottled water I should be drinking) before I was beckoned back to the counter.  With a cheery smile I turned over my documents, and within a few minutes I had a shiny new retired ID card.  Complete with a cheesy picture of myself that I  would be looking at for the next few decades before I turn 65 and the proclamation of my newly earned RETIRED status.  No POW camp for me!

__________

Lessons Learned:

1.  Your DD-214 is the most important document you will have after you transition.  I recommend that you keep a copy of it with you at all times when you are conducting transition relate business.  Have the administrative shop that completes your transition provide you a few extra copies, and make sure that they are stamped “CERTIFIED TRUE COPY” at the bottom.  That will ensure that you don’t have to make extra trips like I did.

2.  Buy a binder or folio (nifty word for folder that has a zipper on it to hold all the stuff inside) and keep all of your working transition paperwork inside.  That way you can whip out your DD-214 or whatever other document you need at a moment’s notice and avoid going back and forth to get things done.  You will need other documents, too, like your checkout sheet, medical appointment reminders, etc., and having an organized notebook will help a lot.

Final (?) Physical Exam. Or is it? Part 2.

Posted by Mike Grice on

A little while ago I wrote about the importance of lists.  Rather naively I thought that I was pretty much done with them as I approached the completion of my checkout sheet.  As usual, I was wrong.

The mighty checkout sheet, about which I wrote several posts, is the administrative key to the other side of transition.  To my dismay, however, I found that the checkout sheet alone wasn’t mighty enough to set me free.  That required that I complete my final physical examination, and just like everything else involved with transition there was so much more to it than meets the eye.

My last post about the final physical left us at the Regimental Surgeon’s office, where I learned about the complexities of the mother of all physical exams: the vaunted Final Physical.  It is the mother of all examinations because it is no simple or cursory survey, but instead an inexorably thorough inquisition of one’s bodily health and mental condition that left nothing uninspected.

It is for good reason, as I learned from the good surgeon.  My final physical serves as the last chance for me, the soon to be departed from the Marine Corps, to avail myself of military medicine and fix those things that had heretofore been unfixed or ignored in typical macho tough-guy fashion.  While the thought of military medicine may make the reader shudder, it really isn’t bad- in fact it is very good, because military health care providers are well resourced and have had a lot of real world practice over the last decade of war.  The perceived problem with it stems from poor management and care several decades ago- problems that have long been corrected.  The point to the physical was to get me into the best shape possible  before showing me the door, whereupon the Veteran’s Administration would take up the responsibility for my health and wellbeing.  I will write more about the VA later, but suffice it to say that the surgeon’s description of the process made me a believer in the process.

“It’s up to you, sir,” he said, “but you’d be foolish not to take advantage of everything you can.  It’s free, and you have the time to take care of anything that may crop up.”

A wise man, that surgeon.

“You would be smart to contact every [health care] provider that you have seen in the last few years.  They will re-evaluate your condition and record it in your health records.  That will help you in the long run, especially with your disability claim,” he continued.

Disability claim?

Visions of walking canes, wheelchairs, and blue parking spaces rocketed through my head.

He saw my look of horror and chuckled.

“You’ve been in for a long time,” he said as he flipped through my medical record, “your knees are bad, your ankle is bad, your feet are a mess….”  He trailed off as he continued to review my case.  “You are going to be rated with some disabilities, and it is important that the ratings are done correctly.  Don’t worry about it.  It’s a rough life being a Marine, and you are going to be evaluated to make sure that you are taken care of.  Here’s my number.  If you have any problems, have them give me a call.”

As Indiana Jones said to Marion in “Raiders of the Lost Ark”:  It’s not the years, honey, it’s the mileage.

With a firm handshake, I left his office with my records in one hand and a newly printed checklist in the other.

The checklist was very thorough.  It ranged from lab work (shots anyone?  A vial or two or seven of blood for testing?) to audiograms for my artillery-assaulted ears (What? What did you say?) to an EKG to make sure my ticker still ticked and a chest x-ray to look at my ribs or something else that is equally important.  How was I going to get any of this stuff taken care of?

In true Navy fashion, I had not walked ten feet before a motivated and professional Petty Officer took pity on me and beckoned me to the counter.  “Hi, sir!  Lemme see that,” he said as he pointed to my checklist, “we’ll get you squared away.”

And he did.  With the dexterity of the queen of the typing pool and the suavity of a Tiffany Jewelry salesman he typed, called, cajoled, and printed appointment after appointment for me.  Within ten minutes he had teed up meetings with specialists and medical providers across the base.  Not only did he hit the basic requirements, but also those specialty clinics and providers that I had seen over the last few years- orthopedics for my feet, physical therapy for my knees, optical for my eyes, audiology for my ears….and so on.  With a smile and a cheery “here you go, sir!” he handed me a sheaf of appointment reminders and turned back to his duties.

That’s why Navy medicine is great- they really bent over backwards to make sure I was taken care of.  I have never seen anything like that at a civilian HMO, that’s for sure!  I looked over the appointment reminders and was surprised at just how long it was going to take to knock this final physical out- all told it was going to take over three months to hit all of my appointments.  Three months!  Yikes.  Navy medicine may be helpful, but it isn’t particularly speedy I guess- especially for those of us getting our outprocessing physicals.  Oh well.  Fortunately I had the time.

So, with a feeling of great relief (and a little trepidation, to be sure!) I walked out of the Regimental Aid Station and set out on the journey that would be my final physical.

__________

Lessons Learned:

1.  Start EARLY.  I began my outprocessing physical about four months before I went on terminal leave with the naive expectation that it would be a quick and easy thing to do.  Not so much!

2.  Plan ahead.  Take the time to write a list of all the things that are bothering you or that you have been treated for over the past few years.  Most Marines just “suck it up” and refuse to show weakness by getting medical care, which is good when the Taliban are chucking hand grenades at you but not so good when you are about to get out.  If you do not have your problems recorded in your record then they do not exist.  Simple as that.  And if they do not exist, they cannot be evaluated for disability purposes or for future care in case they get worse.  And they always get worse….

3.  Go into your initial final physical appointment with your notes and with your complete medical record.  You will get out of it what you put into it.  If you blow it off then you will get a rubber stamp with nothing behind it, and possibly lose out on medical benefits or monetary compensation in the future.  The time to be the big tough Marine ends at the hatch to the aid station!

4.  Take notes as you go.  This is important, because you will ultimately have a second set of physicals with the Veteran’s Administration to determine your disability rating.  If you forget what the doctors tell you during their examination you can’t pass that information to the VA, which will weaken your claim for benefits.

Why I write

Posted by Mike Grice on

Today’s post is a little different.  It really doesn’t have much to do with transition but rather with something else, namely why I write.  Writing has become a significant part of my life even though I never really intended it to become so important.  Oddly, I have found writing to be a metaphor of sorts for life in general and it has become interwoven with my shift from one life to another, so I take it back.  This post is about transition after all.

I am often asked why I write.  It is a good question, because I had never really considered myself to be a “writer”.  Instead, I considered writing as an adjunct to whatever I happen to be doing; writing efficiency reports on subordinates, preparing awards to recognize the deserving, or as a necessary evil that is part and parcel of staff work.  Writing was part of being an officer of Marines.

All officers, by their very status, are required to write.  The Marine Corps’ system of performance evaluation centers around the concept that officers write reports about their subordinates, with those reports requiring a concise articulation of what is expected of them as well as how they perform.  The rules for writing such reports are stringent in an effort to limit excessive hyperbole or damnation by faint praise.  It is a pretty good system, which a decade ago replaced a longstanding Fitness Reporting scheme that had become hopelessly inflated and largely useless.

A key component of writing reports and awards and such is the ability to do the simple things that my elementary school-aged kids are learning now; things like grammar, spelling, and format.  As a junior officer I never really paid much attention to my writing; it was a necessary evil and part of my profession.  I did the best I could to produce something good enough to get the job done and survive the red-penned review of the XO (the unit’s second in command — usually a crotchety senior officer with a perennially bad attitude whose sole joy in life is torturing young officers who would rather guess at the spelling of an arcane word than actually consult a dictionary).

After many pointed and painful one sided conversations in which the XO pithily acquainted me with spell check and a thesaurus I learned to write reasonably well.  Good thing, too, because I wrote a lot.  Between the administration of leadership (fitness reports, or “fitreps”, awards, formal counseling statements and the like) and the military orders compiled for training exercises I often wondered if I had joined the Marine Corps or a typing pool.  I produced reams of paper with which I suppose I could bury the enemy if I met him in battle, and if it came to hand-to-hand combat I could inflict the agonizing death of a thousand paper cuts.  Maybe I could drown him in printer ink or blind him with a cloud of toner?  Dunno.

Anyhow, I learned to write.  Over time I learned the importance of good writing and the impact it can have on a Marine’s career.  A well written evaluation may well mean a promotion for a subordinate, and a poorly scribed eval may likewise cost him or her a chance at advancement.  Better writing also meant less work in the long run as quality documents require a lot less editing and painful revision at the behest of the angry XO.

So I became pretty good at the administrivia of the Marine Corps; my fitreps and awards would stack up with the best of them.  It wasn’t until I attended Amphibious Warfare School (“AWS”-a year long Marine Professional Military Education school) that I was introduced to writing beyond the requirements of my job.

As a student in AWS we were required, among other things, to write.  Not just operational orders, but essays and research papers as well.  It was in many ways like being back in college, except that we occasionally got to go the field and blow things up.  We became ardent students of our craft, and a big part of our studies was to write about it.

My Faculty Advisor (the den daddy for a dozen or so of us know-it-all captains) was then Major Bryan P. McCoy, who was one of the most professional and knowledgeable officers I have ever known.  He was a taskmaster and accepted nothing that wasn’t done to the fullest extent, and that included the papers that we wrote.  He was a good writer to boot, and he mentored us all on how to become better.  By the end of the year we had written and submitted countless revisions of numerous papers, and with each transaction I learned more and more about writing.  By the end of the school year I had produced a half-dozen or so academic writings, and to my surprise Major McCoy and other members of the school staff recommended that I try to get a few of them published in our professional military journals.

That was pretty heady stuff!  I was (and still am) an avid reader of military periodicals such as the Marine Corps Gazette and the Naval Institute’s Proceedings, but I always considered those articles to be written by intellectuals who lived in an ivory tower who were somehow anointed with the privilege of publication.  How wrong I was.  I submitted an article about logistics to the Gazette and another about the organization of the Marine Corps to Proceedings.  Lo and behold — a month or so later I received letters from both journals accepting my submissions for publication.  I couldn’t believe it!  A few months later my first article appeared, and with the first sight of my name in the byline I became a writer.  (I also became more acquainted with the process that is publication, as  one of those first articles was accepted for publication but never actually went to press.)

Fast forward over a decade and I have been published in a half dozen magazines and journals and even churned out a book.  I found that I enjoy writing, and it has become a part of my life.  What began as a part of my job has fully transcended my occupation to become not just a hobby that I enjoy doing but also a big part of my life.  I find myself pondering work and life and family and then writing about it.  The best part is that I enjoy writing immensely, and the fact that so many people read what I have written is very rewarding.

So that’s why I write.  It helps to have something to say, and fortunately I do.  Thanks for reading!

Final (?) Physical Exam. Or is it?

Posted by Mike Grice on

My most recent string of posts delved into the adventure that is checking out of the Marine Corps.  It was a search for pirate treasure and Easter Egg hunt all rolled into one, although not quite as thrilling.   After all, there were no Captain Jack Sparrows or Blackbeards, and the lack of candy filled plastic eggs was sadly evident.  Getting the final signature, however, made every line I queued in and every frustrating hunt for the holder of the magic checkout stamp well worth it.

One of the enchanted stamps I picked up along the way was held by the Medical Officer, whose duty it was to ensure that I was poked, prodded, specimined, and examined from the tips of my toes to the hairs on my head.  To that end my quest led me to the Regimental Surgeon’s office to endure the last physical examination I would be subjected to as a Marine.

I had heard many stories about the mysteries that surround the “final physical”- ranging from friends who said that it was no big deal to others who opined that it was far worse than they could possibly have foreseen.  Personally, I was hoping for an experience more on the “no big deal” side of the scale.  Just like everything else, however, it turned out to be not quite what I expected. I have been subject to myriad physicals throughout my career, ranging from halfhearted glances from bored medical technicians to the exams in which modesty plays no role whatsoever.  A big part of being a Marine (or a Soldier, Sailor, or Airman for that matter) is being physically fit and ready to fight, and our medical folks do a great job of ensuring that we are ready to go at a moment’s notice.

Before you are ready to fight, though, you have to be examined to ensure you are fit enough to serve.  Your relationship with physical exams begins with a battery of tests that begin before you ship to recruit or officer training (to make sure you are healthy and strong enough to make it through the rigors of bootcamp or Officer Candidate School) and continues once you get there.  Wanna be a pilot?  Special exam for you!  Paratrooper?  Exam for that, too.  Been a year since your last exam?  Time for another one!  Been deployed?  Step up to the counter and say “ahhhh…”  It seemingly never ends.

Until your final physical, that is.  My next few posts are going to bring you, my faithful reader, along for the ride to the aid station, hospital, and various clinics I had to visit to get that single stamp from the Medical Officer.  It was good, it was bad, it was funny, and it was sad, but most of all it was thorough.  Just how thorough you will see in my upcoming posts!

Checking out (4), or doing my best Captain Jack Sparrow impression

Posted by Mike Grice on

So what do Captain Jack Sparrow and a Marine checking out of his unit have in common?  They both want the same thing: to follow the map all the way to the end and uncover the treasure that lies waiting there.  The treasure is different, but the goal is the same.  Jack Sparrow wants what his heart most desires (usually accompanied by rum) and a Marine wants something equally as important; the final signature on his checkout sheet.

Just as the “X” that marks the spot where pirate treasure always seems to be buried the final signature on the checkout sheet marks the spot where a Marine can officially take the form to his administrative section and turn it in.  Once turned in, the Marine receives that most special and treasured document- his official set of orders that will take him into retirement.

But before you can go ashore for the last time you must first obtain that last and most important signature.  Before the holder of the sacred pen will scribe his or her mark on your sheet you must get all of the other signatures first….and therein lies the rub.  Just as Jack Sparrow must endure adventure after adventure to find the buried chest-o-gold, so must a Marine follow the twists and turns of the map that is the checkout sheet.

My case turned out to be a little unusual.  Most Marines check out of the unit they have served in for a few years on their way out the door, which makes sense.  For me, though, things were different.  I had turned over command at the start of the summer, and had several months between leaving the best job I ever had and departing active duty.  While in charge there was no time to start my transition, so I put off all of the things that I needed to do until I had passed the mantle of command to my successor.  Immediately after turning things over I left the building (much like Elvis, I suppose) and headed out to the higher headquarters unit where I would perform my outprocessing.

The difference between the two is pretty astounding.  Being the commanding officer of a Marine Corps unit is undoubtably the greatest honor an officer can be entrusted with, and it comes with some pretty nice perks.  One perk in particular makes the whole business of checking in and checking out pretty simple- the Marines in the unit bend over backwards to make sure that everything the CO could possibly need is done as quickly and efficiently as possible.  In a previous post I lamented about the drudgery of turning in my equipment- that drudgery was a function of no longer being in command.  As a commander I had only to mention something and it would magically happen.  Take my unit issued equipment for example.  One of the mounds of gear I used overseas was specific to the unit that I commanded- we were fire supporters, so we had special binoculars, laser range finders, infrared target designators, and a host of other neat widgets that we got to lug around the battlefield and use on the Taliban.  Anyhow, as the CO I had only to mention that I needed to turn the stuff back in and within an hour a couple of Marines showed up at my office and took it all away.  No lines to stand it, no annoying paperwork to get signed, no arduous accounting for each item- it just happened.  Kind of the opposite of Christmas, with the jolly Marines of the Supply and Armory sections taking away my mountains of gear and leaving me with a lot less to worry about.

Contrast that with being warehoused in the headquarters unit.  Nobody knew who I was, and nobody really cared.  I was just another Marine with a checkout sheet, and the fact that I was a senior officer was interesting but largely irrelevant.  There were rules to follow, places to go, and specific hours to go there.  No jolly elves here.

I did, however, have the tool to get me through the checkout process- my checkout sheet.  So, just as intently as Captain Jack Sparrow followed his chart I turned to and started working my way down the list.

There are some low hanging fruit on the list as well as some annoyingly difficult places to go as well.  Being a creature of habit (and in no particularly huge rush) I started with the fruit that was hanging lowest and closest; that fruit being the various offices and buildings around the in and around the headquarters.  A quick gander at the checkout sheet revealed about a half dozen offices just down the hall and up the stairs from where I was standing, so off I went.  The operations section ensured that all of my required training was complete (not that I need anything special on the way out the door) and to my great relief the legal section confirmed that I wan’t pending a court martial.  The Substance Abuse Control Officer (SACO) confirmed that my most recent urinalysis was clear of drugs (good thing they don’t check for gin and tonic) and the Family Readiness Officer happily stamped my sheet after a nice chat.  Things were progressing nicely!

So much for low hanging fruit.  Time to work my way up the tree.

I tracked down the Uniform Victim Advocate.  I don’t know what that person does, really, but without obtaining the red squiggle from the official pen of the UVA office I would be stuck.  So, after a quick “Hello- can I get your autograph?” followed by the scratch of a pen on my sheet and a  “Sure, have a nice day!” I left none the wiser as to the purpose of that particular office.  I wandered across the camp to the armory and supply sections, where I waited until the time listed on the signs for checking out (at lunch until 1300!), and upon their return from the chowhall (or Subway) I queued up and after a few minutes racked up a few more stamps and squiggles on my sheet from the largely bored Marines who were the keepers of the sacred stamps and pens.

Higher up the tree I climbed.  Jack Sparrow had nothing on me!  I chased security specialists down to turn in my “secret” access badge and get them to ink my paper.  I snuck into the Commanding General’s wing to garner the mark of the Chief of Staff.  I drove across base to turn in the gas mask that I had (thankfully!!!!) never used outside of annual training.  I sat in the dentist’s chair for my final checkup and was poked and prodded next door at the Group Aid Station for my final physical.  I met with the system administrator and turned off my email accounts.  I met the mail clerk and completed a forwarding address card even though I had never received any mail there  and I knew that I never would, but a checklist must be followed and the mail clerk to his credit was adamant.

On and on it went.  Days turned into weeks, but before the weeks could turn into a month I finally obtained each and every stamp, mark, and squiggle needed to complete my quest.  Were I Captain Jack Sparrow I would be chortling over a chest of gold with a bottle of rum in each fist- but I was more gleeful than he could possibly be at that moment because I had done it!  My checkout sheet was complete!  With a happy heart and a smile on my face I drove down to the Installation Personnel Administrative Center (IPAC for you acronym connoiseurs) and met with the holder of the pen that would scribe the final signature on my checkout sheet: my retirement counselor.  More on that soon.

__________

Lessons learned:

1.  Checking out takes time.  A lot of time, and the time is not yours but instead belongs to the people on the other side of the checkout counter.  Unless you are a General or a CO you must get in line with everyone else.  That isn’t bad, though, because you meet a lot of great people along the way.

2.  Make sure that all of the prep work is done.  Bring everything you need to turn in and make sure that any required documentation is done ahead of time so that you don’t have to go back several times to get the stamp.

3.  Be nice!  The Marines and Sailors that are on the others side of the counter are doing their jobs.  They will be much more friendly and forthcoming if you are friendly to them first.  The golden rule surely applies!

4.  Follow the rules.  Show up during the times listed for checking out because the Marines and Sailors who man the checkout counter only do so during those times, and if you show up and throw your rank around then you are taking them away from their other duties.  And you will look like an arrogant jerk.

Checking out (3): There and back again, or slaying the Supply monster

Posted by Mike Grice on

In a recent post I introduced you to that most excellent and important document: the checkout sheet.  It is a roadmap that leads to life after the service, but you can’t follow it out the gate until every signature is inked in the appropriate spot.  The ease with which you get those spots filled varies widely, however.  Some are easy, and some are hard, and some are downright painful. Let’s start there first.

In theory completing your checkout sheet should be pretty simple.  As I have said before the checkout process goes on pretty much every day at every base and in every service, so you would think that it would be a smooth and streamlined process.  For some signatures it is, but for others, well, not so much.  Today we’ll take a look at the most difficult stamp to obtain: the one you receive from the supply warehouse after turning in all of your field gear.

For those who don’t know the way that Marines are equipped to train and fight is with a comprehensive set of personal equipment that ranges from a “lightweight” (ha!) kevlar helmet to protect your noggin to steel reinforced combat boots to protect your feet.  You have body armor reminiscent of a turtle’s shell that is festooned with pouches to hold everything from a notebook and a pen to hand grenades and ammunition magazines for your rifle.  You get a sleeping bag to keep you toasty when it is cold outside and a poncho to keep you dry when it rains.  Need a jacket?  You get one.  Gloves?  Here you go.  Cup for your coffee?  You even get one of those.  All told you receive several thousand dollars worth of personal equipment that you will to use when you train and fight, and for the record it is hands down the best equipment that Marines have ever been issued.  It is a lot of gear.  So much gear, in fact, that by the time you make it through the line you are staggering beneath such a mountain of green, brown, and black accouterments of war that even the mighty titan Atlas would shudder at the heap that you shoulder on the way out of the warehouse.

And when you are done with it the Marine Corps wants it back.

Therein lies the rub.  In the typically complex way of the Marine Corps you aren’t actually issued all of the stuff you need at one time or from one place.  You receive your basic equipment from a centralize warehouse that issues and recovers the personal stuff that I just wrote about- the items that every Marine needs.  That equipment is enough for training and is a good baseline for the fight, but when you deploy it isn’t sufficient.  Iraq, for example, tends to be about a billion degrees in the summer and parts of Afghanistan approach arctic temperatures in the winter.  In order to equip Marines for the conditions they will live in while deployed to fight they are issued supplemental equipment, but they don’t get it from the central supply warehouse.

That would be too easy.

Instead, each deploying unit is issued a set of specialized combat equipment tailored to where they are going.  For my most recent vacation getaway to Afghanistan we were issued cold weather gear too keep us warm in that distant and frigid land.  Lots and lots of it.  Three full jacket and pants ensembles of varying types (one for rain, one for warmth, one in a fetching white and grey camouflage pattern to make us look like a lumpy snowbank should we need to hide ourselves in the tundra), lined and waterproof boots (comfy AND toasty!), cold weather socks, long underwear, fleece undershirts, gloves, mittens, and my personal favorite- booties to keep our toes snug when we weren’t mucking about the countryside in our boots.  By the time we got all of the cold weather gear we were ready for an arctic expedition- all we needed were a few dogsleds, a case or two of Spam, and some snow under our feet.  And just like our fighting equipment it is all top notch stuff; not leftovers from the Korean war, which is nice (I say that because many years ago when I was conducting cold weather training we were issued musty old Korean war vintage canvas “cold weather” protective clothing that was anything but.)  At any rate, this pile of gear added to your other pile of previously issued gear becomes a mountain of equipment that even our friend Atlas could not independently shoulder.

But we’re not done yet!

You now have your fighting equipment and your environmental clothing, but you need to be issued the tools of the trade- your rifle, pistol (if you rate one), and all of the other bits and pieces that make you into a warfighting machine.  Your weapons shoot bullets, and those bullets are loaded into magazines.  Ten magazines for your rifle.  Three for your pistol.  You need Night Vision Goggles to peer into the darkness, and a bracket to mount those goggles to your helmet.  Along with a dozen other items, you pick these things up at your unit armory and add them to the growing Everest like mountain of gear that you need to fight.

Enough, you think?  Well, not yet!

You still have to draw your unit specific equipment.  Every unit has a different mission to accomplish, and as a result each unit has some unique equipment required to do so.  My last unit was a fire support and liaison outfit, so we needed special radio headsets, helmets, night vision equipment, thermal targeting sights, ruggedized computers, and other nifty items to ply our trade in combat.

Now you’re finally done!  All you need is a flag to plant on top of your equipment mountain and your Edmund Hillary impression will be complete.

So off you go….training, deploying, fighting, coming home, and doing it over and over again.  Time passes, and soon enough it is time to start turning all of that stuff back in.  The problem is that it all looks the same- some of it is brown, some green, some black- and all of it needs to go back where it came from.  Were I more organized that would be no big deal, because I would have been smart enough to take the itemized receipts that the various supply clerks handed and file them away for the day that I would be turning the stuff back in.  Well, I’m neither that smart nor that organized.  Without a thought of the ramifications down the road I took the receipts from the supply clerks and jammed them into my pockets, where they were either laundered into oblivion or thrown out with the gum wrappers and lint that always seems to aggregate there.

So there I stood, eager to divest myself of the mounds of gear that clogs my garage, but unable to really remember where it all came from.  I give it my best shot, and soon enough I have a backpack and a couple of seabags stuffed with all of the equipment I seem to remember receiving at the main supply warehouse.  After grunting and straining to get into the car, I zorch over to the Centralized Issue Facility (CIF- another acronym!) where I unload my car and again grunt and strain to get it all over to the checkout counter.

Standing at the entrance to the warehouse is reminiscent of Frodo’s trip into Mount Doom, complete with the unsettling feeling in the pit of your stomach that you are stepping into the great unknown with uncertain outcome.  Entering the dark maw of the musty hangar-like building, I saw that it was going to be no quick and easy adventure.  Lamentably, between the counter and myself stretches a long line that serpentines back and forth.  And back.  And forth.  Apparently,  I am not the only one interested in returning my gear today!  I search the faces of those in front of me and see the blank and resigned expression that every Marine knows- the “it’s gonna be a while” look.

Capitulating to the timeless fate of Marines immemorial, I lug my stuff up and join the line.  Slowly, inexorably, like a caterpillar the line moves through the twisting lane.  A Marine is called to the counter, so he or she reaches down, seizes the straps, loops, and handles and drags the agglomeration up to the counter.  The Marine’s departure from the front of the line starts a sine wave of stooping Marines, each grabbing their gear and lunging forward, with the fleeting feeling of progress supplanted by return to resignation as they wait.  Painful minutes stretch into infinity, and moments before my last hair turns grey it is my turn.  Finally!

Up to the counter I struggle with my jumble of earthtoned equipment.  The clerk, a civilian contractor, asks for my ID card and we get down to business.  As I have said before, this is not my first rodeo, so I made many of the basic preparations that get Marines into trouble at the supply counter.  I had cleaned my equipment (nothing dirty is accepted- it is issued to you clean and you are expected to return it that way) and disassembled it by removing the camoflage cover from my helmet, taking all of the pouches off of my protective vest, and separating the components of my sleeping bag.  I tried to keep it organized, with all of the pouches in one pile and clothing in another.  So off we went.  “Helmet, Medium,” said she, and after she inspected the one I handed her to ensure that it was indeed a medium helmet she moved on to “Cover, Helmet, Medium….”

Dozens of items later my pile had shrunk, but oddly had not completely disappeared.  It was smaller to be sure, but still there.  Reduced from mountain to foothill, my equipment load had lessened.  Fortunately, we weren’t done.  “Flashlight, Tactical.”  Unfortunately, my tactical flashlight was absent!  I rooted through what was left to no avail.  “Um, I don’t have it,” said I, hoping for a pass.  No such luck!  “You can come back when you find it.  Jacket, Combat, Desert?”  After much fishing through the pile I came up empty handed.  My forlorn look was met by her steely gaze and flat reminder that I could bring my errant jacket in with my missing flashlight.  I asked about the other stuff, and her steely stare softened.  “You didn’t get it here,” said she, “and we don’t want it.”  D’oh!

Off I went with a bag of stuff I thought I needed to turn in and a homework assignment to find the stuff I forgot.  All things considered, though, it wasn’t nearly as bad as it could have been.  I seemed to remember putting the flashlight in the pocket of my jacket, but where the jacket was currently hiding was anybody’s guess.  As for the other stuff, well, I had a few other stops to make and I am pretty sure that one of the many clerks who had issued it to me would recognize and reclaim it.  All I had to do was make the circuit from the CIF to the armory to my unit supply a few more times and before too long my pile would be gone and the magical stamps would appear on my checkout sheet.

Two trips and a found jacket and flashlight later, my checkout sheet was emblazoned with the stamps of success from the CIF, the armory, and my unit supply.  I had bested the supply monster and scribed its mark onto my checkout sheet.  Things were looking up!

__________

Lessons Learned:

1.  Keep the receipts!  You would think I would have learned that ages ago, but I didn’t.  I even tried to keep a folder each time I showed up at a new unit to organize all of the pertinent paperwork including receipts for equipment.  Needless to say,  I failed in the attempt.  So, if you are checking in somewhere soon, save your receipts.

2.  Do a little research before getting in line.  Had I made a few phone calls or emails I could have found the list of gear that I was expected to turn into the CIF.  The same goes for the armory and your unit supply.  It will also save your back from the strain of lugging extra gear all the way through the line and then back to your car because you brought it to the wrong place.

3.  Make sure your equipment is clean and complete.  There are a lot of little straps and widgets that can get lost, and you will be buying replacements and cursing up a storm unless you have everything squared away.  A few minutes with a scrub brush will save hours of waiting in line.

4.  Allocate a lot of time for the process.  You will forget or lose something and will be making more than one trip to the turn in counter. In addition, there will be a lot of people like you in line ahead of you.  It is not a speedy process.  Be forewarned…

Checking Out (2): Hello, Checkout sheet!

Posted by Mike Grice on

Back to work.  Well, back to leaving work for the last time, or at least back to trying to leave work for the last time- and the emphasis is on trying.

Leaving a job in the civilian world is a significantly different experience than leaving military service.  Generally on the outside you can leave your job in one of two manners: happily or unhappily.  The happy way of leaving is with an office party with a nicely decorated cake, some kind words, and a thoughtful (but not too expensive) gift from your cubemates to speed you on your way.  The unhappy way is finding yourself wedged between two security guards as they hustle you and the dented cardboard box that contains your precious office belongings out the door.  In either circumstance you generally get to leave the company with a minimum of fuss and hassle- and it all happens in one day.

Not so fast or easy in the military world.  Following the vaunted tradition of making simple things very difficult every departing Marine must run a perplexing gauntlet of clerks, administrators, and senior leaders on his or her way out of the unit.  He or she must obtain the mark of consent from a dozen or two different entities before the byzantine process of checking out is complete- marks that range from elaborate signatures that would make a calligrapher swoon to stark and brazen ink from a much-coveted rubber stamp; coveted because without the mark of the stamper you will remain forever in the purgatorial no man’s land inhabited by the lost souls who could not obtain the vital mark on the most important of all documents to the so0n-to-be departing: the checkout sheet.

I have alluded to this most glorious and momentous document in a recent post.  It is indeed a glorious bit of vellum because, much like Pirate Captain Jack Sparrow’s map, it holds the key to that which you most strongly desire: your departure.  Like a treasure map it divulges the often hidden location of important places that otherwise would remain forever hidden, or at least forever ignored because the only time you really need to go there is when you are checking in or checking out.  The vaunted checkout sheet is so crucially important because it is the one and only key to receiving your final orders to the outside- without completing it you can be stuck on hold and denied the ability to leave despite your desire to grow your hair and rediscover the joys of sleeping in during the week.

The checkout sheet is usually provided by the administrative section of the unit you are checking out of.  The purpose that it serves is to make sure that you hit all of the wickets on the way out the door- important wickets like turning in thousands of dollars worth of military equipment as well as completing critical paperwork that ensures that you receive the benefits and entitlements that you have earned during your service.  So, in and of itself, the checkout sheet is actually a good thing because it ensures that you do everything you are supposed to do before you hit the road.  Unfortunately, just because the checkout sheet is important to you that doesn’t mean it is particularly important to anybody else, which is a painful lesson to come to grips with.  Your eagerness and urgency to get it completed has little to do with the desire of others to assist you in getting it done, so a word of warning the soon to be departing- make sure you allot ample time to knock it out.  A smart guy once told my that a crisis on my part did not correlate to a crisis on his, and that must because I was in a hurry didn’t mean that he was.  Important and accurate advice, as we shall see…

What does a checkout sheet look like?  It is invariably similar across the spectrum of units and services.  It is a sheet of paper that lists all of the agencies, offices, and people that you need to visit in order to depart your unit.  More importantly, it has a place for each of them to make their mark- eminently important, because without the proper notation by the functionary behind the counter your visit will be in vain.  For those with nimble fingers and an eager pen beware!  Don’t think that just forging a random set of initials will let you slide by- that has been tried by many who have gone before you and as a result most places have acquired nifty and unique little rubber stamps (and variously colored ink pads) that must be used on your checkout sheet for it to be deemed authentic.  Forge at your own peril, because to be caught will get you in big trouble and result in a trip to purgatory as your transgression is sorted out.

Here is a link to what my own checkout sheet looks like: Checkoutsheet

As you can see it is a colorful document- at least it is now that it is completed.  I obtained my checkout sheet from the administrative section of my unit, in this case 1 Marine Expeditionary Force Headquarters Group (try saying that three times fast!) located aboard Camp Pendleton, California.  To get your mitts on a checkout sheet you have to be able to show the nineteen year old administrative clerk that you are indeed departing soon, which is actually pretty easy.  The major muscle movements of personnel administration are done over a centralized computer system, and since my retirement request had been approved the young Marine only had to check the system to confirm my not-so-imminent departure.  He reached behind the counter and pulled out a single piece of paper, and with the efficiency borne of experience he whipped a yellow highlighter over numerous lines of text.  “These are the places you need to hit, sir,” he explained, “take it to IPAC (the Installation Personnel Administrative Center- where my friend the retirement counselor works) and they will cut you your final set of orders.”  With a cheerful “thanks, and see you around!” to the clerk I left the admin shop with a virginal sheet, ready to be filled with the scribblings and stamps of those who stood between me and my final day on base.

The sheet itself is an innocuous looking bit of poorly Xeroxed paper.  It is a copy of a copy that was a copy of a copy, and as a result is a bit faded and tough to read.  I filled out my administrative information at the top, stuff like my name, rank, and section (HQ for headquarters, in case anyone didn’t know that) and headed out to get as many signatures and stamps as I could in the shortest time possible.

As usual, it wasn’t that simple.  It never is.  More on that soon…

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!