I have sacrificed so many things during my tour aboard the amphibious assault ship: USS Essex (LHD-2). One of which was writing. There is nothing like the freedom of laying (figurative) pen to paper and letting the world, my notebook.. even a word document know just exactly what is on my heart and mind. Presently my tour here is winding down and I am finished working 13-15 hour work days tending to sick bodies, sweeping decks and ladder wells, shining bright work, painting and well, you get the idea. It's time I indulge in writing about one of my favorite subjects: Love. Note that I capitalize Love.
It is my opinion that Love is the highest power, the supreme force that adheres myself to my fellow man. Oneness. Without Love, what are we wandering around doing? Stay with me here. I have always been a relationship kind of gal. Since I fell into love the first time, I crave the honesty, the feeling of giving myself to one person completely. Before my tour here, I have always had boyfriends, the good ones. The kind I would lay and talk with all hours of the night, give full body massages to with and cook breakfast for. My relationships almost always end cordially, from either wanting different things, deployments or PCS's. That does not go without heartbreaks but those never deter me for long. When I reported to Essex, I got myself all settled in and while I was resolute in my goals and giving it all to the work laid before me: of course my eyes casually wandered the ship for a sweetie pie to tangle myself in (we are in Japan….) There were literally 0 men that I was interested in. Eventually, an entire year later I stumbled onto a few (two, to be exact) whom I even considered to be worth my time. Also, I noted that while both were very handsome: neither possessed any traits that I value other than just being handsome. I felt awkward.. so awkward that I never let myself be the ball of quirkiness, energy and light that I am. With me commitment was never even a question, it has always just happened. To my surprise, neither wanted commitment. In retrospect, I wonder if maybe I had so much of a wall up that I just wasn't very interesting to talk to outside of the obvious inborn passion that I held for my job. It is a possibility.
I was so caught up in forward deployed, work work work. All I talked about was how I longed to be back with the Marines (if you did not know, I am a Fleet Marine Force Corpsman by trade). Learning and accepting the way the Navy does business was a feat in itself, especially when I have been thoroughly brainwashed by the Marine Corps. I was shell-shocked, yet determined to own my own heritage (um, hello! My Mar-Pats sexily said "US Navy" not "US Marines"). I knew that my life would be flipped upside down when I took these orders against the prodding of all my FMF buddies to go back to the green but I did not care. I was curious. Curiosity very well could have been the end of my career, I mean it I was that disgusted with the Navy.
Anything outside of what was going on the Essex, things that used to matter so much to me were suddenly irrelevant. Politics, world events, volunteer work, fashion, educating myself, striving to refine who I am on my path to finding my place in this world came to a screeching-ass halt. Lol, my pseudo Carrie Bradshaw life. This bubble that I lived in, relationships with friends and family- my life evaporated with one plane ride and a climb up the ol' Brow of my Girl Essex. I no longer had the luxury of indulging myself in reading, meditating, spending hours pampering myself with hot candle lit baths with fluffy towels, trips to the spa, getting my hair styled, mani's and pedi's, learning new recipes, yoga, talking at length with my loved ones about life. Life- not a stinking can of death and destruction on the water in the middle of the damn Mediterranean or East China Sea and when the next Godforsaken 2 day liberty port would be.
I reported to Essex with beautiful highlights, a gorgeous wardrobe, flawless nails and a full face of makeup. Now my hair is short, I paint my own damn nails and mascara, powdered liner and lipgloss is about the extent of my beauty routine. And who could forget my hellish stress-induced breakouts? Who goes back to work after dinner? We do. I lived and breathed the work placed before me. I was reviewing my Facebook posts over the course of the last two years with timeline. Personal life? What is that? 95% of my posts are related to work, about that big iron girl. And female friends outside of my rate? Forget it. I stuck out like a sore thumb and found myself being snubbed by the female population on the ship. But I was too proud to try. In fact if I'm honest my lip was probably snarled at them for my first 6 months on board at their dirty, ill-fitting uniforms and jacked up and or oily hair. And unsightly nails. I understood that they were not Marines and that I could not yell at them for being heinous so I just kept my distance. I made gay friends. :o) Well, until my gal-pals from Fleet Surgical Team 7 mercifully came aboard and it is clear to me that some of those late night chats and bitch sessions are what got me through my tour.
You know? When I consider the fact that only two men in two years struck my interest well, the odds are going to be against me. My Love for the opposite sex and romance was replaced by Love for my job and Love for my country. Basically, what I am saying is that I have been emotionally starved for the past two years but have found an inner strength so belligerently firm that looking back I am damn proud that I held my ground in favor of throwing myself into bed with some poor guy I was just looking to fill my time with. Ha! "Time". We were barely in port long enough to go on a few dates.
I miss Love. I miss the mid-day texts, the racy undergarments, the cooking dinner for someone whom I cared deeply about. The kisses. I miss doing random things for my object of affection. Like sending takeout to their work. Planning a picnic for them on the vast expanse of the Washington Monument. Going hiking in the Pocanos. Going fishing in Maryland. Late night, giddy stops at chipotle because we had worn each other out. Repelling down a cliff face together. Going dancing in a formal dress and holding my shoes by their straps in the White House foyer, just gazing with Love at the one I cared about. Love. Romance. Even if it doesn't last, just caring about a member of the opposite sex enough that you would go to the ends of the world for him. All these things have been lost on me since I checked in to a command that takes every ounce of life in your body. Love, it is truly everywhere even when it is difficult to identify. The type of love I have witnessed the last two years goes beyond a man, rather, beyond a member of the opposite sex. Beyond family and friends: hear me out.
My rate is fortunate. As an HM (Hospital Corpsman) I do three years shore (normal life) and two years sea. Many other rates do 5 years, five years sea and 2 shore. I used to scoff at Sailors. An FMF Corpsman I initially despised the Navy. I was repulsed at the way the Navy 'rank' structure works, as I was all but an actual Marine when I first laid my brand new un-shined Navy issued boot on the brow of the mighty warship, Essex. My sleeves were tight and high on my biceps. My salute was sharp. My boots were tightly laced. My cover was curved and smugly lowered over my eyes so that when I looked at anyone, my chin was up and I was peering through my nose: the way the Marine Corps trains. I was obviously a strong woman and my uniform did not betray that fact: a machine, my shoulders did not bounce as I purposefully boarded my new mama, scowl on my face. My gait was a Marine Corps swag: 6 to the front, 3 to the rear, lean back and strut! STUT! STRUT STRUT STRUT! AND CUT AND DRIVE AND CUT ANDyeahok, too much... I was truly disgusted with what the Marine Corps calls the Nasty Navy. "Not one ounce of discipline or bearing in their flabby little bodies", I am on record as having once said. "I can't wait for the Marines to come abo..... what the HELL is this sh*t? (turning at once on the Marines) WHO SCUFFED MY PRC DECK!!?! WHO!!?!!?!"....................... HM1: "Hey Dods, can you mop the deck where the Marines made a mess?" All I wanted to do was destroy someone. That is what I am programed to do. But my world had already been flipped upside down. I had two options 1) Break, or 2) Comply. As I relented to the green in me as I never ceased to do (I may not have been allowed to hold the Juniors accountable but I would be damned if I ever disrespected a First Class) "Aye HM1. I got it." My FMF training told me to delegate. I had already been swiftly reminded that E5 and below do not delegate.
Let's talk about a different form of love…. the US Navy's role and how wrong I was about them being "heinous nasties" HA! People, Sailors sacrifice everything. I didn't know my chosen service from my own asshole. The crew of my ship has humbled me in a way that I cannot accurately describe. Sailors give themselves up to their country. Many in addition to the losses aforementioned, lose most of their sleep. Some work in unbearably hot environments, our engineers. Could you work in a sauna? US Navy engineers do. They work their asses off in loud, sticky, hot environments working 6 hours on and 6 off. Imagine that! Sacrificing one of your senses (ear plugs) just to assault your hypothalamus all day, every day. That is 7 days a week. The same Sailors are the first to run as fast as they can into danger if something leaks, something explodes, something malfunctions even if they are likely to die and that is not an exaggeration. Every single day real sh*t goes down. "FIRE FIRE FIRE, class bravo fire at 00-00-0-Q. Away the flying squad away, provide to repair locker 2 Main." The kids who just drifted off to sleep for 3-4 hours. Within minutes their flash gear is on and they are at the scene. They answer the call, then they report to their watch running on absolutely no sleep. If they fall asleep? Captains Mast.
Then there are the Boatswains Mates. God bless the Bos'ns, my favorite rate in the Navy. I watched them work for 36-50 some hours straight (again, no exaggeration all hands DECK department), standing knee deep in a well deck of frigid water to launch and recover landing craft sending precious life sustaining supplies ashore to the victims of natural disasters. A friend of mine in Deck upon checking out reflected that he had in fact spent more time sleeping on the non-skid during underway than in his own rack. He was not exaggerating. Each time something horrible happens in the world the US Navy is the first to respond. We are the global 911. I had been ashore in Malaysia for about 4 hours after over 30 days underway and I was stretched out receiving a luxurious massage when my shipmate prodded me: "We have to go back to the ship". "What"? I said, "Why?"…. but the why did not matter, the order had been issued. And from that order, operation Tomadachi was born. Even when deck is not conducting an evolution, their average work week underway is absurd. We are a multi-purpose, amphibious assault ship. For God's sake, has anyone really paused to consider what the US Navy is capable of? What we will do when called upon?
Let's talk about the Air department. They work with the worlds tiniest runways, sending fighter jets to practice annihilating, flipping destroying any adversary to the US or her allies.
Let's talk about the Air department. They work with the worlds tiniest runways, sending fighter jets to practice annihilating, flipping destroying any adversary to the US or her allies.
Our AIMD independently maintenances that aircraft. AIMD cares for it while Air moves it like a game of tetras around a floating can of whoop-ass to meet our mission. Our AO's (aviation ordinanceman) are poised and ready to destroy anything and anyone who threatens our freedom. Some Sailors stare at radar screens for literally most of their waking moments for 5 years straight. I hit my rack every night knowing that those OS's, IS's, CTR's and CTTS have the souls of 2500 some Sailors and Marines, my life in their hands. DECK: I know that there is a helmsman keenly driving the ship. That there are lookouts, standing there in the freezing cold or sweltering heat: titanic style watching for anything and everything that threatens us. The guardians of freedom, the ultimate sea power: the United States Navy.
Even the HM's which is considered an "easy" rate work 83+ work weeks. I realized after helplessly watching the life leave one of my shipmates that I would do anything for these people, I mean it, anything to save their lives. After that death, I realized that I Loved my shipmates. Yes, I Loved FN Buttchuckles, BM2 Puffinstuff (Ferguson! Mapp!) as I passed them in the P-way and greeted them with a hearty "Wassup, BOATES!!!" They have become my family, my whole life for the last two years. Sailors may not run headlong into a fire fight, or hop on IED's but believe me, America, they give it all. My generation has not seen the United States Navy fight war the way they did in WWII. But we can. We certainly would. We are not on a cruise ship and we are not safe. I could be exaggerating on this one, but when we were sitting our butts off of the coast of North Korea in some pretty tense times, as we sent our Marines ashore for an exercise I personally know that I was nervous especially when I eased on by the blood bank with a casual query to our Lab technician, asking why she was deglycering all that blood. Lol, then I was like Senior why are we readying the Ward (ICU is always ready) for casualties? Achem.... hull swap.. lol, Ok Senior....
Ladies, imagine wearing the same thing for 3-9 months straight. Now imagine, you may not have sex during that time. Chances are if you do within the small windows of opportunity- you know, you feel that it is meaningless and empty because the tempo of FDNF make it nearly impossible to form a healthy relationship. The proverbial job from hell that absorbs your whole life into it's black hole. You may not watch any of your favorite shows or go shopping during that time. For the women in engineering and deck, they choose between makeup and sleep. Between working out and sleep. Between calling home and sleep. Sometimes, between food and sleep. They may do nothing but hard, manual labor until their eyes are so heavy they cannot hold them open anymore. Sounds like prison, doesn't it? They asked for it, we asked for it.
Love takes on a different meaning. When you feel down, you remember that Love for your country is what brought you here. And you quietly and dutifully stand your post, day in and day out. It is a different form of compassion. It is the kind that keeps our nation free. I am so humbled by the sacrifice of our nation's Navy. They ARE as responsible for our freedom as the United States Marine Corps and the US Army. Corpsman have been nicknamed the Angels of the battlefield. Sailors are the Angels of the ocean. The Angels of the whole world, policing the seven seas and doing God's work at a heavy personal cost. If that isn't Love, I do not know what is.
