Military Officer - September 2006 - (Page 120) encore Man Overboard During a seemingly quiet day at sea, a dispirited Navy chaplain is taken by surprise when he discovers his hidden talent while counseling a homesick sailor. M y Navy career began in relative obscurity. I was a new lieutenant, fresh off a Texas farm and trying to learn an unlearnable system among dozens of other young officers. My first duty assignment didn’t help either; I was attached to a squadron of destroyer escorts. The Navy soon recognized that, despite their speed and antisubmarine capabilities, this ship class was too small, too lightly armed, and too maintenance-demanding. They were scrapped. I felt scrapped too. As squadron chaplain, I routinely trolled our five ships, begging for a bunk and a ride from any accommodating CO. But my “Could you maybe use a chaplain today?” modus operandi did an about-face the day a fellow sailor jumped over the side. We were steaming solo when the manoverboard Klaxon sounded like a truck horn in church. It seems one of our sailors had gotten a little too homesick and demonstrated a half gainer off the fantail. We went dead in the water and lowered the gig, preparing to head out and fetch him. The captain asked me to tag along — I assumed it was in case somebody needed a blessing. We could see our target clearly, at least his bobbing head. Our chief corpsman appointed himself main rescue negotiator. We drew alongside and listened hopefully to our counselor’s grand words of encouragement, admonition, sympathy, and empathy. “Now son, you know your mama wouldn’t like this. This is not good for 120 MILITARY OFFICER SEPTEMBER 2006 your organic wholeness as a person. We can deal with your repressed emotions.” Never had I heard a more polished, psychological, reasoned, and eloquent crisis protocol. I considered jumping in just so I could be persuaded to get saved. But, sadly, our swimmer would have none of it. He kept floating awkwardly, insisting he’d hang on until he got tired enough to sink. This went on for several minutes, getting nowhere. I could see the CO’s face on the bridge. He looked worried. Then I heard a new voice amid our anxious boat crew. I looked around to see who had so rudely spoken — only to blush when I realized I had been the one who asked the soggy sailor, “Well, what are you going to do about that shark?” The sailor’s eyes looked like cue balls in dough. His head snapped left, then right. He must have imagined a dozen fins slicing through the water, for our errant sailor suddenly rejoined us like a big flopping fish. We rode quietly back to the ship, contemplating the vagaries of our mortal passing. There is more dignity in all of it if you can choose a long swim to nowhere over being gnawed by a phantom shark. MO — Chaplain Bernie Calaway is a retired Navy captain. He retreated far from the seas and now lives in the mountains of Western North Carolina. ILLUSTRATION: ELWOOD SMITH
For optimal viewing of this digital publication, please enable JavaScript and then refresh the page. If you would like to try to load the digital publication without using Flash Player detection, please click here.