The Navy’s Debauchery Problem: An Enlisted Perspective
Another article about the Navy's flaws- this one from an enlisted point of view.
Read the rest of the article at the link.Senator Tom Cotton recently released a report detailing manifold flaws in the U.S. Navy’s warfighting capacity; at the end of it, he included eight recommendations for how the Navy can improve itself. Reviewing the suggestions, I think he has much correct. However, his prescriptions are understandably biased toward the upper brass and provide little direction for the enlisted side of the house — the people doing the work. Having served six years on that side in the Navy, rising to E-5, I believe much should be corrected in the enlisted ranks, from the culture to recruiting practices to the chain of command.
I’ll attempt to tackle each of these concerns in separate pieces but will begin with the Navy’s culture — which is most in need of reform. Easy to say, difficult to effect, I know.
Sailors — and I speak from experience — can be a mischievous lot of rabble-rousers and skirt-chasers. Take four steps outside any naval base, and — aside from a steadily frequented row of strip clubs, bars, and payday-loan shops — you’ll see some variation of two heavily mortgaged Ford Mustangs and a Harley for sale in the parking lot adjacent because some young sailors thought an $800 monthly payment was feasible on $1,600-a-month pay. Sailors live fast and loose as a general rule. But why is this the case, and is there a way to bring some old-fashioned military-style order to these habits?
Let us inspect the life of a sailor to understand him better. A deployed sailor typically works twelve-to-16-hour days, with no weekends or days off, for months at a time. Moreover, the available hours for sleep are unlikely to be continuous, as they are often interrupted for drills or mandatory training. Even when the opportunity arises to sleep, aircraft will launch and land a couple of meters above his head. Then there is also the chance some podunk country or militant group wants to take a shot at the ship, not ideal for sailors in the short-term or militants in the long-term once the weapons systems come to bear.
Eventually, the ship docks in some foreign port, let’s say the Philippines. The sailor emerges from the raucous cocoon of the ship with his entire paycheck in hand — not having had the opportunity to spend it over the last month — and thinks, “I deserve a drink.” A summary of his evening can be catalogued thus: he gets a beverage to unwind and set aside his worries, then another, forgetting his tolerance for alcohol has become almost nil since he has been at sea, gets a third — possibly eleventh — drink, and he is now thoroughly sauced and decides he would like to make friends with the local womenfolk.