Speech: The Legacy of the Uniform

Copyright © 2018

by Ralph F. Couey

It would be easy for someone like me to stand here and recite platitudes of "Duty, Honor, Country."  It would be just as easy for you to completely ignore or forget those words.  You see, I'm not here as some distant personage.  I'm here as one of you.  I once stood where you are standing today.  I felt then what you are likely feeling today, impatience to get this thing over with, your anxiousness to see your loved ones who have traveled so far to be with you and see how far you have come in the arduous nine-week journey you have just completed.  I also have no doubt that many of you are imagining in great detail the marvelous taste of the first cold beer you've had in over two months.  Hoist 'em high, shipmates!  You've earned it.

As I indicated, I won't speak in soaring language today.  Instead, I will speak of the realities that await you as you leave for the fleet.

I offer you my congratulations upon your graduation from Recruit Training.  As you may have seen not everyone who arrived here back then is still standing here today.  I know that the pride you feel in your hearts is shared by your family and friends who are here, and those who could not make the trip.  I'd like you to look back for a moment at the tough moments.  Those PT tests, damage control training, fire fighting, all the long days and short nights.  Remember the frustration, the anger, the bouts of loneliness and homesickness.  Today, all that is behind you.  Your Company Commander won't yell at you or correct you, because they are standing here today, bursting with pride at your accomplishment.  The strangers who you were thrown in with have survived this all with you, sharing the hardship and the joy.  You are strangers no longer.  You are more than friends.  You are shipmates now, and will be for life.



Today, you take your place in a long blue line that stretches back over 250 years.  They also are your shipmates.  Some of you have family who have served; they are your shipmates.  This is the common bond of this sea-going service that we all share.  Yes, I am also your shipmate.

Over the centuries, there are stories to be told; tales of great courage and valor that are as much a part of the legacy of the uniform as great liberty stories.  I want to share a few of those accounts today.

MM1 Robert Scott was aboard the battleship California on the morning of 7 December 1941.  His responsibility was the operation of air compressors used to clear the guns.  This is absolutely necessary because if those barrels aren't cooled between shots, the heat will not only burn the gun crews, but that heat is likely to cook off rounds in the barrel before the breach can be closed.  The California took two torpedo hits which would have been shrugged off by the ship's double hull.  However, in preparation for an Admiral's Inspection on Monday, all the hatches leading to the spaces between the inner and outer hull had been either loosened or removed.  With the ship's watertight integrity fatally compromised, water surged into the hull of the ship and the California began to settle into the mud.  Petty Officer Scott's space began to flood.  He ordered his sailors out, saying, "This is my station. I will stay and give them air as long as the guns are going."  Petty Officer Robert Scott drowned at his post.

Watertender Second Class Elmer Bigelow was at his post aboard the destroyer USS Fletcher on 14 February 1945 while the ship was escorting minesweepers clearing Manila Bay prior to an amphibious assault on the island of Corregidor.  A shell from a Japanese shore battery penetrated mount 51's powder magazine, igniting several powder canisters.  Petty Officer Bigelow grabbed a pair of fire extinguishers and rushed into the blazing space.  His ship and crew were in danger and time was off the essence, so he did not take the time to don an OBA.  He managed not only to put out the fire, but also cooled the powder canisters and bulkheads, preventing an explosion that would have at least severely damaged Fletcher and killed many of his shipmates.  While in the space, his lungs were seared by the intense heat.  He emerged from the space and was rushed to sickbay, but his injuries were too severe and he died the next day.

Navy Corpsman John E. Kilmer was assigned to Company H, 3rd Battalion, 7th Regiment of the 1st Marine Division.  On 12-13 August 1952, he accompanied his Marines in their assault on Hill 800, which became known as "Bunker Hill."  Despite the heavy rifle, machine gun, and mortar fire coming from the dug-in enemy atop the hill, Corpsman Kilmer fearlessly moved from one wounded Marine to another, treating their wounds and coordinating their evacuation.  He was wounded by mortar fragments, but continued to treat the wounded Marines.  At one point, he crept slowly through the fire towards one wounded Marine.  The Chinese soldiers responded with a shower of mortar shells,  Corpsman Kilmer shielded the wounded Marine with his own body, and was mortally wounded.  John Kilmer died on Hill 800.

SN David G. Ouellet was the forward gunner aboard PBR 124 during an operation in the Mekong Delta, Republic of Vietnam.  During the early evening hours of 6 March 1967, SN Ouellet observed suspicious activity along the riverbank.  He alerted the Boat Captain and recommended moving the boat to investigate.  PBR 124 made a high speed run along the riverbank when SN Ouellet observed an enemy grenade arcing through the air towards the boat.  Seeing the Boat Captain standing unprotected, Ouellet left his protected gun position and placed himself between the grenade's blast and his shipmates, absorbing the blast with his own body.  SN David Ouellet died protecting his shipmates.

On 5 December 2012, American physician Dr. Dilip Joseph, who had been working with an aid organization, was captured by the Taliban along with two Afghans while returning to their base in Kabul.  The U.S. military gathered intelligence on where Dr. Joseph was being held.  As the Seal Team approached the target building, an enemy sentry detected them and entered the building to alert his fellow captors.  When the sentry emerged, the lead assaulter attempted to neutralize him.  Chief  Petty Officer Edward Byers sprinted to the door with his team.  As the primary breacher, Chief Byers stood in the doorway, fully exposed to enemy fire while ripping down six layers of heavy blankets fastened to the inside ceiling and walls to clear a path for the rescue force.  The first assaulter pushed his way through the blankets and was mortally wounded by enemy small arms fire from within.  Chief Byers, completely aware of the imminent threat, fearlessly rushed into the room and engaged an enemy guard who was aiming an AK-47 at him.  He then tackled another adult male who had darted towards the corner of the room.  During the ensuing hand-to-hand struggle, Chief Byers confirmed this man was not the hostage and engaged him.  As other rescue team members called out to the hostage, Chief Byers heard a voice respond in English and raced towards the sound of that voice.  He jumped atop the American hostage and shielded him from the high volume of fire within the small room.  While covering the hostage with his body, Chief Byers immobilized another guard by grabbing the guard's throat with one hand and pinning him to the wall until another team member could eliminate him.  The hostage was rescued and returned unharmed to his family.

These were acts of incredible courage and valor, committed by young people close to the age of all of you assembled here.  I tell you of this not to intimidate or frighten you, and I certainly don't want any of you to think that courage and valor is the sole province of the male gender.  I think it is important for you, as newly graduated sailors, to understand the legacy behind that uniform which you wear so proudly.  You will face challenges during your time of service, most of them not in combat.  But all those who have shared this uniform with you are whispering across the ages, telling you to always be ready; to stand tall and never back down.

A friend of mine was a second class gunners mate aboard the battleship USS Iowa.  He was assigned to turret one on a tragic day when something went terribly wrong in turret two.  The center gun exploded, and 47 men died.  Once the fire had been extinguished and the water drained, my friend was one of the detail of men who entered the turret to identify and remove the bodies of his dead shipmates.  At one point, he found the body of a friend of his, wearing a Mk V gas mask.  When he removed the gas mask, the man's face went with it.  As he related the experience to me years later, that was the least horrifying incident that I dare repeat to you today.  But despite his sorrow and shock, my friend continued to carry out his duty, facing horrifying sights that haunt him to this day.  You will not read accounts like this anywhere, for they are desperate secrets that will be held within for lifetimes.

There is the possibility that you, too could be ordered to carry out such a task, a task that will require of you the deepest sense of courage and the absolute unwillingness to back away.  Your sense of duty to your ship, your shipmates, and to your country will be the rock for you to stand upon, to cling to when you sense you are about to be swept away by tragic events.  This, too comprises the legacy behind your uniform.

In all of your lives there will come a moment when you are faced with a decision.  It will be a decision that stands between right and wrong, honor and dishonor, between courage and cowardice.  Between life and death.  The measure of each and every one of you will lie in how you face that moment, and what you do with that decision.

Your time in the Navy will be filled with times of great adventure, distant lands, deep life-long friendships, and a hell of a lot of fun.  But you must be prepared for that moment and that decision, to meet it with every fiber of courage you possess.

After today, you will scatter to the four winds, some to A School, others directly to the fleet.  The Petty Officers and Chiefs who have spent the past two months in training and instructing. have prepared you for some of what lies ahead.  For everything else, they will rely on you to use you brain and your heart.

Shipmates, I congratulate you once again.  I wish you, in the traditional way, fair winds and following seas.  Go forward and serve your shipmates, your Navy, your country, and the cause of freedom everywhere.  I invite you to join that long, blue line and follow the legacy of the uniform.