Farewell Naval Mobile Construction Battalion 23

Over the last four days, I undertook the immensely difficult task of detaching from NMCB23, my Navy Reserve home for the last three years. It wasn't practically difficult. It was really, really emotionally difficult. When my fellow Seabees and I would commiserate about all the time a reserve Seabee battalion consumes, I frequently, and in jest, would accuse them of allowing their personal and civilian lives to interfere with the Navy. Theoretically, the Navy reserve is only supposed to take two days a month and two weeks a year (you've heard the ads). I like to say: "Join the Navy Reserve Seabees, only two weeks a month and and two months a year." As much as it devoured my personal life and infiltrated my regular job, I loved it and I am a far better officer and person for it all.

The Seabees, born of the WWII necessity to

quickly build advance bases throughout the Pacific and in the European theater, are designed to be a self-contained military unit, able to defend their perimeter, run convoy security elements and independently operate in hostile areas all while building bridges, repairing sewer systems, restoring electrical service, creating airfields and all manner of horizontal and vertical construction. The Seabee moto: “With compassion for others, we build, we fight.” The battalion has about 500 members living in six states and the District and is composed of five companies along with five main departments (Admin, Operations, Logisitcs, Communication and Training. I led the hard chargers of the Supply (Logistics) Department and it was our job to handle logistics, food service, purchasing, contracting, warehousing and the like. The battalion has about 25 officers and the remainder are enlisted personnel. Most of the officers belong to the Navy’s Civil Engineer Corps (CEC) so my assistant supply officer LT Matt McCabe and myself, along with the chaplain, doctor and dentist, were in the minority as non-CEC officers.

The last four days encompassed three time honored and centuries old Naval traditions: a Dining In, a Hail and Farewell and a Change of Command Ceremony.

Dining In:
This rule-laden highly formal dinner sounds really stuffy on paper, but in reality, the rules are there to break. The event is presided over by the commanding officer (Mr./Madam President) and the most junior officer in the command (Mr./Madam Vice). The dinner is attended by the officers and the chiefs (about 65 of us). If you violate one of the rules, you are sent to the grog bowl, which is usually made of some sort of rum concoction. Now lets think this through – the punishment for misbehavior is that YOU GET TO HAVE A DRINK. Hmmm . . . where does my motivation lie? One of the traditions of the Dining In is what is called “Parading the Beef.” A plate of prime rib is paraded around the room and delivered to the commanding officer (CO) who samples the beef and then ceremoniously says “I find this beef to be fit for consumption.” It use to be that prime rib was the only choice of meal but now, as time has changed, there is a

The "Parading of the Chicken."

chicken dish and a vegetarian option also. Given this, my best friend in the battalion, LT Dwight Roberson, and I decided that it was time to give the chicken its own time in the spotlight. Thus Dwight rented a chicken suit, recruited a chicken suit wearer and to the surprise of all, we “paraded the chicken.” Needless to say, Dwight and I spent a lot of time at the grog bowl.

Battalion Chaplain LT Nathan Solomon takes matters into his own hands when the bartender disappears.

My fantastic leadership staff: LT Matt McCabe, Chief Todd Thomas, Chief Mike Farrell and me.

Dwight and I join the Command Master Chief, Lou Schwalbendorf, in a toast.

Hail and Farewell:
We hail the incoming officers and say farewell to the outgoing officers. I was one of the later, along with some outstanding friends, LT John Schaefer, LT Dave Wilhite and a top notch CO, CDR Susanne Openshaw. The event is half-roast, half fond farewell. The battalion chaplain, who possesses one of the most wicked senses of humor, presented me with a disguise kit just in case I needed to go undercover in Iraq . . . . .

Change of Command:
On Sunday afternoon, the battalion officially had a new commanding officer and it also marked the official end of my tenure as the Supply Officer. It was difficult to drive away, made all the more somber when I was overwhelmed and surprised to see my fellow junior officers line the front of the compound and render a hand salute as I drove off. I wanted to stop and thank them each again, but I was already trying to come up with reasons to miss my flight later that night to spend just a few more hours at the battalion and I knew if I stopped the car, I wouldn’t make it to the airport.

Two of the battalion's most outstanding officers, LT Otis Davis and LT Dwight Robertson, join me in a final toast before I leave.

NMCB 23 allowed me to meet scores of dedicated sailors from all walks of life. Architects and engineers, heavy equipment operators and electricians, mechanics and contractors. I would have never crossed paths with most of these folks had it not been for the Navy. They shared with me life outside the big city, the challenges of being a single parent, the struggle against cancer, the joy of getting a new job and the disappointment of a promotion missed. Many answered the call of a nation attacked and joined after September 11th. Others have served since Vietnam. They work full time regular jobs (if not two jobs), raise families, cope with ill parents, and tolerate the often less than perfect Navy bureaucracy, all of which is well beyond the demands on my life. They leave their office job, or their highway construction crew or their plumbing business and sacrifice weekends with their families and friends to be sure they are ready to toss off their civilian lives, put on a uniform and answer the call. I thank them all.