The Last Voyage

 Copyright © 2025

by Ralph F. Couey

I'd  been off for about 2 1/2 weeks recovering from surgery, which went well.  The only byproduct was a loss of energy which is still taking its toll.  Returning to the ship on a Saturday, I saw in the wardroom a small memorial for one of our long-standing tour guides, a man named Ford,  Apparently he had passed away while I was off, and this sudden breaking news was a shock.  He was a friend, and had been literally since my first day back aboard.  He gave me my first orientation tour that day, setting a very high bar for sharing the ships story.

Over those many months we spent a lot of time talking as old men are wont to do.  He was older by ten or twelve years, and had stories to tell.  We spent a lot of time sharing parts of our lives, along with our shared bemusement of the state of the world.  He was a superb guide and I learned a lot from him about presenting Missouri’s history, and myself, as well as the best ways to deal with our guests.  Ford was a bountiful resource about so many things as well as a trusted confidant.

He had been in declining health for awhile.  He had several falls, and at one point had to be taken off tours altogether.  He took up a static position in the wardroom where he would spend his day regaling everyone who came by with his trove of stories and knowledge.  Despite his condition, he never sought sympathy.  I don’t think any of us were aware of just how bad things had gotten.

A sudden or unexpected death is always a shock.  For reasons unclear, I think we expect life to go on without change, especially in our relationships.  It’s akin to driving down a road at night in a storm, then discovering just a tad too late that the bridge we assumed was there…wasn’t.  Everything drops away and suddenly we’re twisting in the wind.

I miss Ford.  He was a trusted friend, and we never have enough of those.  I know his memory will grace the decks of the Battleship forever.

I’ve reached the point in life when people I’ve known, some throughout my life are disappearing.  The loss of those relationships and friendships always leaves a hole in my life.  Somehow, I assume that they will always be around.  As I sit here today, it’s hard to come to grips with the fact that Ford is gone, irretrievably so, that I won’t ever see, talk to, or here that ever cheerful gravelly voice again.  Life has changed. 

None of us ever want change, yet it is the one consistency in life.  We are mortal, and on some cosmic or divine calendar is a date circled in red, a date that we will never know until it is upon us when we shall sleep for the final time.  Death is the last great unknown, the final frontier, if you will.  The familiar will end, the unknown just ahead.  For most that is scary.

I had once what is called a “near death experience” which is recorded elsewhere in this blog.  Even though that was more than 20 years ago, I’m still processing that experience.  The point being, I’ve been there, so it is no longer that mysterious unknown.  I lost the fear of death then, and it has never returned.  It was a beautiful and profound moment.  Now, I’m in no hurry to go back anytime soon.  I’m still having way too much fun here.  But I am comforted by the certainty that when that day arrives, I will embrace it without fear or regret.  

There’s no more important moment than now.  So I take the time to enjoy the warm sun, the cool breeze, the blue sky.  I listen to the birds and their songs.  I have been blessed by people who love me, and how they have filled my life with joy and meaning.  Each moment is a treasure, never to be repeated.

Yes, I am a lucky man who has lived a long and full life.  I know it will end at some point, but until then, I will live life to the fullest, just as Ford did.

I think about my friend and the hole left in life by his passing.  I wonder where he is, what his thoughts are, and hope that he is at peace.

Wearing the Anchors, and What That Means

Copyright © 2025

by Ralph F. Couey

Every year in late summer, the Navy releases a list of names.  For thousands of First Class petty officers, the release has been awaited with a mixture of excited anticipation but also fear and dread.  For years, sometimes a decade or more, these career-minded sailors have accomplished and endured, all experiences pointed towards that moment.

The Navy is alone among the services in the promotion of personnel from pay grade E-6 to E-7.  Because of the special status accorded Chief Petty Officers, everything changes.  First and foremost is the uniform.  The newly minted Chief now dons a khaki uniform along with that coveted hat.  It is similar to the uniform worn by officers, except that on the collar lapels, the traditional "fouled anchor" is worn, which is the symbol of that new rank.  But other things change as well.  Aboard ship, they move into quarters specifically set up for Chiefs.  They also join an exclusive group, known as the "Chief's Mess," which refers to both where they eat and where the collected wisdom of decades of Navy service can be found.  

The Navy Chief is the embodiment of knowledge, wisdom, experience, strength, and authority.  To the enlisted crew, the Chief is the most critical person in their lives.  A young sailor's growth, maturation, and expertise lie in the hands of that Chief.  That learning also conveys to officers.  Many a raw ensign has been (respectfully) schooled by that wizened Chief, and all admit that they're better officers because of that.  

I recall that time, back in 1988, when I saw my name on the list.  I had only been in the service since 1980, so to have risen that far, that fast, was unprecedented.  It also made me nervous.  I was fully aware that most candidates had around 10 to 15 years in before being selected.  I talked to my detailer and asked if it wouldn't be better for me to do a tour at sea as a Leading Petty Officer, the First Class who works just below the Chief.  I was told that if I turned down this promotion, it would never be offered again.  We had four children, and we needed the hefty pay raise, so I accepted the promotion.

The intervening time was filled with numerous activities, hampered by the fact that I was on independent duty, not on a Navy station or ship, and thus out of the communications loop.  But I did show up for the initiation.  Tradition dictates that I can't share the activities of that very long night, except to tell you that I know how an earthworm and fish oil cocktail tastes.  But finally, just before dawn, I passed the final tests and was sent to get cleaned up and dressed.  

The pinning ceremony was impressive.  An old Master Chief told us, "Starting today, you will be known as a Chief Petty Officer.  You will still be called "Chief" long after you leave the Navy.  Because once you pin these anchors on, they stay with you forever.  For they are also pinned to your heart."  Then, the moment arrived.  Cheryl pinned those shiny new anchors to my collars. I stood there in a moment of pride and accomplishment, not only for me but for her as well.  She earned them just as much as I did.

For that and a hundred other reasons, this period is an emotional time for me.  To watch these men and women go through the tests and trials, and to arrive at that supreme moment, is for me to relive it as well, experience those emotions, and, for a time, feel again that pride for what was then the greatest accomplishment of my life.  

Now, some people think that leadership simply means issuing orders and meting out punishments.  But as any senior Non-Commissioned Officer (NCO) in any branch of the military will tell you, the job goes way beyond that simplistic view.  First and foremost is the mission.  What the goal is, and what needs to happen to achieve the goal.  Crew members must be assigned to the tasks required.  This is not a "dart board' approach, but rather knowing your people.  Qualifications, yes. But also their individual strengths, weaknesses, and temperament.  Assigning the wrong task to the wrong person can be problematic.  

You have to know your people.  Someone who is in the grips of a personal off-the-ship issue might never talk to anyone.  However, those distracted behaviors manifest in subtle ways.  The leader has to remain ever vigilant and prepared to intervene.

The military loads NCOs with a lot of administration.  This is all vital and necessary to the running of the great military bureaucracy.  However, a leader knows how important it is not to be held prisoner by the office.  The proper place for the NCO is out on deck, spending time with the crew, observing their work habits and the progress of the assigned projects, and being aware of their interactions with one another.  Much of this is intuitive, recalling what it was like to be them.  Unfortunately, intuition can't be taught, but must already be an inherent part of a leader's makeup.  

The most important part of the relationship between leaders and subordinates is trust.

Trust can't be commanded.  It can only be earned.  For the junior and mid-grade folks, the NCO is the authority figure.  But there also has to be the sense that they have someone in their corner; that they can come to the NCO with an issue in confidence and expect a fair shake.  Every NCO, of course, must have the ability to bring down the wrath of God Himself upon the head of someone who richly deserves it.  There will always be that line that Shall Never Be Crossed, and they have to know clearly what and where that line is.  Young people always function better when operating within a clear set of boundaries.

That goes hand-in-hand with respect.  It has been my experience that respect for juniors is reflected back to leadership.  Treat them as if you know that they know their job and you know...just know...that they'll get it done.  Conveying that respect and confidence empowers people.  And they will respond.  

The Navy taught me the basics of leadership.  But the real education came through the crucible of experience.  For any of us, life is an academy.  As much as we learn from both good and bad experiences, we also gain insight from both good and bad leaders.  We will all make mistakes.  That's inevitable for humans.  Don't run from mistakes.  Instead, confront them, analyze them, and understand them.  Take those lessons and apply them, and they will inform you for the rest of your life.  Confronting our own faults and errors takes a certain kind of courage, the drive to be better, and keeping the promise we made to ourselves and our people that we will be the leader they will want to follow.

Courage.

That is the supreme element of leadership.