EIGHTH COAST GUARD DISTRICT, NEW ORLEANS, LA; A GREAT LESSON

By LT Jim Brown, USCG(ret)

At the time, I was a Chief Warrant Officer (Personnel) assigned to the Eighth Coast Guard District Personnel Office in New Orleans. During one particular week, the Captain I worked for was on leave and designated me as the “Acting” Chief of the Personnel Division.

Normally, that would not be a very big deal. Life tends to go on, and things usually take care of themselves.

Each week the District Commander held a briefing with all the Division Chiefs. Most of the Division Chiefs were Captains, but that week one of them happened to be a Chief Warrant Officer — me.

The District also had a Chief Hospital Corpsman assigned to the staff who worked in the Personnel Division. The Chief and I had just returned from a trip to Mobile, Alabama, where a Coast Guard cutter — which shall remain nameless — was in the shipyard undergoing extensive repairs. That visit set the stage for what happened next.

During the briefing, the Admiral went around the table asking each Division Chief for updates. Out of respect for rank, he usually started with the senior Captain, who was typically the Chief of Operations. The conversation moved around the table until the Admiral finally came to me and asked, “What’s new in the Personnel Division?”

I took a deep breath, looked around the table, and asked a question.

“Has anyone been to Mobile to see the cutter?”

Several officers said they had.

I then described the visit the HMC and I had made and explained how disturbed we both were that someone thought it was acceptable to put the cutter’s Chief Petty Officers and officers ashore in a local hotel while the ship was under repair, while the First Class Petty Officers and below were required to remain aboard the ship.

Without stopping, I continued with a detailed description of the ship’s condition and the poor living conditions the crew was enduring. I finished by relaying the HMC’s assessment of the cutter’s galley and food preparation areas, which he described as deplorable.

What bothered me most was the insulation hanging down from the overhead. In the sunlight streaming through the ship you could clearly see how much dust and debris filled the air. Everyone aboard — including the Chief and me during our visit — was breathing it into our lungs while the ship was being repaired.

When I finished, I asked a simple question.

“Is anyone going to do anything about the conditions the First Class Petty Officers and below are living in?”

The Admiral said nothing. His body language, however, seemed to be asking me, “And so?”

I expected the Chief of Operations to step in, but he remained silent. That meant it was back to me.

I took another deep breath and asked the table again.

“So there is nothing anyone is going to do about this?”

There were no answers. That surprised me — but not really.

So I dug deep.

“Admiral,” I asked, “with the Chief of the Personnel Division on leave, that makes me the Acting Chief of Personnel Division, correct?”

He replied, “Of course.”

I continued.

“That also makes me the District’s Chief Medical Officer, because that duty falls under the Personnel Division. Is that correct?”

At that point, I think the Admiral sensed what was coming.

I said, “Admiral, as the District’s Chief Medical Officer, I am condemning the cutter and ordering that the entire crew be berthed ashore until the ship has been certified by the District Medical Staff as safe for occupancy.”

I realized immediately that the next words spoken would determine whether I had succeeded or not — and they were not going to come from me.

After what felt like an eternity, the Chief of Operations finally asked, “Can you do that?”

“Yes, sir,” I replied. “I can — and I will.”

The truth is, I had no idea whether I actually had that authority or not. But it worked.

Soon afterward, the District — not me — ordered the entire crew ashore for the duration of the repair work.

The lesson I learned?

Always act like you know what you are doing and not many people will question you. But if you are going to do it, make sure you are standing on at least somewhat firm ground — or be prepared to accept the consequences.

As a side note, I often felt that many officers were reluctant to rock the boat (no pun intended). They preferred to defer to the next senior officer rather than risk making enemies who might one day affect their careers.

I also learned that Chief Warrant Officers are a special breed. There is not much the service can do to them except write a poor fitness report — and frankly, at that point in my career I was not overly concerned about my fitness report.

Because of that, Chief Warrant Officers and Master Chief Petty Officers can often say what they believe is right.

And I learned something else. Admirals often appreciate the honest advice they receive from Chief Warrant Officers when they ask for it.

In this case, what was happening aboard that cutter was simply wrong — and it is never too late to correct a wrong.

This excerpt is from the book “Humor in a Coast Guard Uniform” by LT Jim Brown, USCG (Ret.).