Friday, August 31, 2012

That Time I Went on an Aircraft Carrier


Note: While this blog was used for our year in Israel, I will continue to post stories relating to my journey in Rabbinical School. And yes, posts about the rest of our time in Israel will be coming...eventually...


Video



Pictures


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Day 0
After traveling thru out Israel for the last year, I have forgotten how to spell. 

After traveling throughout Europe over this past year and a half, and always flying through Tel Aviv's Ben Gurion airport, Sarah and I had become accustomed to a few things. For one, getting asked "where are you going," "how long will you be traveling," or "what is the purpose of your trip," not to mention fighting to find the lone power outlet in the airport, and fighting to get on the plane because, let's face it, Israelis do not wait in line. Oh, and we would have to arrive at least 2 hours before the flight. 

This morning, I parked in a lot near the airport at 7 AM. At 7:03, I was on a shuttle to the terminal. At 7:12, I got in the security line. At 7:25, I arrived at my gate. 25 minutes from car to gate. Not too bad. (I should mention that I also had pre-printed my boarding pass, did not check a bag, and only had to take the liquids out of my backpack. Oh, and take my shoes off. That is still ridiculous to me.)

This trip is really going to be an amazing, once-in-a-lifetime experience. For just over a day, we are going to have a glimpse at daily life on a working aircraft carrier, the USS Harry S. Truman. I have to imagine, though, that we will be getting a slightly rosier picture of life on the ship than a reality of its operations abroad. Then again, WHO CARES?! 

Packing list:

Backpack. Yup, that's it for two days. It's probably all I need.

Two days worth of clothing and toiletries. 

Camera. There will be pictures and video. And I brought the Flip video camera for when we fly back to shore from the ship. Not just fly. Catapult. When we take off via catapult from the ship. On a C2. You can bet I'm excited for that. 

iPod touch and iPad. Emailing, movies for the trip to and from Norfolk, and writing this here diary. 

Three books: An abridged Bible, a prayerbook, and a guide for Jewish members of the armed service, all commissioned by the Jewish Welfare Board and printed in the 1940s. The first was given to me by a Rabbi friend. I inherited the other two. They were used by my grandfather, Stan Rubin. He served in the Army and towards the end of World War II was tasked to clean up the camps. We don't know much else about what he did in the Army, but I can only imagine the horrors he must have seen. And I can understand why he never talked about his experiences. I carry them for Papa Stan and Poppa Arnold, Sarah's grandfather who served in Patton's Army.

The first flight was from LAX to Phoenix on Delta Connection. It was the first time I had flown Delta in years. And I was very pleasantly surprised. Considering there was only about 45 minutes in the air, we were served a beverage and some cookies. Not bad for regional air!

Once on the ground in Phoenix, though, I had to switch terminals to get to where my American flight would be departing. This, unfortunately, meant going through security again. 

One thing shocked me. After all of the announcements they give and the volume of information telling passengers to put liquids in small containers in a ziplock bag, it still baffles me that people fail to adhere to these policies. (we could get into a whole discussion about whether the policies work or are proper, but that's for another time) The person in front of me, for example, put his roller board, bag of stuff he purchased in the airport, and THREE cartons worth of shoes, his computer, and another, just for his belt, through the x-ray. And then they had to hand-check his bags because he never took out his liquids. Idiot. 

Here's my idea: if you make people behind you wait because you're an idiot, you have to give to charity. Free pass on the first one. Then, $5. Then, $10. Hopefully this won't incentivize being an idiot so that people have an excuse to give to charity and be rude...it's an idea in progress.

They had wifi on board the flight to Dallas, and American is running this contest where you can win prizes, no purchase necessary. While I would never pay for internet on a flight (I hope I see this in 20 years when we all are paying for internet on flights, myself included), I'm a sucker for a freebie or a contest. Sure enough, I won a code for free internet! So I'll get to have free internet on my return flights (assuming its available on them)! Always play! Especially when it's free!

We arrived in Dallas and after a three hour layover, I was off for Norfolk. The flight was easy enough. Stepping outside, however, was like stepping into another country. 

It was humid beyond belief. Not to mention the gas prices were only $3.39. As I got into a cab with some other people, they said, "oh, you're going to NOB too?" I had a blank stare, finally responding with, "what does that mean? Is that the naval base?" They laughed. "You must be new." Was it that obvious?

First acronym learned: NOB is Naval Operations Base.

We drove to the base, through a check point, and we arrived at the base hotel. I got my stuff together for the next day, checked in on some emails, and passed out. 


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Day 1
After I woke up and got dressed, it was time to meet up with everyone. Walking out the door of our hotel, I noticed two familiar faces: Erica, a friend from the Conservative seminary with whom we had spent the last year in Israel, and Louis, who was a brother of mine in AEPi at UC Davis and now goes to the same seminary as Erica. We (at this point we were 6ish strong) walked over to the house of the man who would be our main guide throughout this trip: Rabbi Rear Admiral Robinson. A retired Navy Admiral, he now serves as the director of the Jewish Welfare Board, the organization that certifies non-Orthodox Rabbinic chaplains.

As we walked over, promptly at 8 AM (excuse me, 0800), the reveille played on the loud speaker throughout the base. Then, promptly at 8:05 (0805), on comes the Star Spangled Banner. We all stand at as close to attention as Rabbis stand, sensing the immense stillness in the rest of the base in solidarity. 

The houses on this street were built in the 1920s, but in the colonial style. Each house is more beautiful than the next. And each is named for one of the Colonies. 

During breakfast with the Rabbi, he told us about the current state of affairs for Jewish chaplains in the Navy. Only .9% (although we like to round-up to 1%) of the Navy is made up of Jews. And the number of Jewish chaplains allowed in the Navy ("so that the government can sufficiently punch the 'Jew' card") is approximately 16. That's it. Serving nearly 400,000 sailors. The current situation is such, though, that more and more Chabad and other Orthodox Rabbis are entering military chaplaincy, instituting policies that say it must be their way or no way. For example, because of the Orthodox Rabbi on board the ship, we brought kosher lettuce with us. Which, of course, brought out the best line: "do you need a shochet (Kosher butcher) to cut the head?"

This situation rang so poignantly for me. This is the identical situation that is happening in Israel between seculars, progressives, and the Orthodox Rabbinate. And, unfortunately, it's one of the reasons I struggle with the idea of living in Israel: I don't want to live in a place where I need to justify my existence as a Progressive Jew. But enough about me. You're reading this about the trip. And you're doing it so well. Take a break. Get some ice cream. You deserve it.

After meeting with the Rabbi, we drove to the naval airport and met up with our military escorts. Now first, I should tell you who the members of the group are and who we were with (with whom we were, Lisa? Nana? Becky? Mr. Kelso?). Four of us were rabbinical students (two from my school, two from the Conservative seminary), a small handful were Rabbis in the field who had some military background, and a few professors from the various schools. Our purpose was to be inspired and join the Navy Chaplaincy, but also to be able to inspire others based on our experience. Our military escort was much more prestigious than any of us.

Leading us around was Admiral Shelanski. He's Jewish. And I'm pretty sure he is currently the highest ranking Jew in the military. He is in charge of Carrier Strike Group 10. This group includes a number of ships, big and small, and the flagship: the USS Harry S Truman. He runs them all. He is the commanding officer to the commanding officers of each ship. Bad. Ass. 

He welcomed us and then we were given a safety briefing. See, the plane we flew out to the carrier is not your typical plane that you take from LAX to SAN. This is a propeller plane with 40 seats inside, each with a four-point harness. And an AC system that created so much fog condensation on the ground, it looked like we were entering a movie set. 

But this was no set.

Oh, and the seats face the back of the plane. And there are only two, small windows. And we wore life-vests. And a helmet, called a "cranial" with goggles.

Bad. Ass.

Once on the plane, we strapped in, and two hours later, it was time for our approach to the carrier. Unfortunately, as we were flying, some weather was developing, preventing flight operations (flight ops) from proceeding. Three other training jets were on approach with us at the time we came in. The weather was bad enough that they were diverted to a nearby base. But not us. We had the Admiral on board. And we WERE going to land.

After circling a bit, we finally made our final approach to the carrier and trap-landed on the deck. What does that mean, "trap landed?" If you've seen the movie "Top Gun," you have seen this maneuver before, but here's a refresher. The inbound plane is flying at approximately 140 mph. The ship is steaming ahead, creating a head wind of approximately 25 mph - ideal landing conditions (you want the wind blowing at you when you land, rather than across you or from behind). Then, the pilot aims the plane to land on the deck, whose runway is only 400 feet long. Clearly, not long enough to come to a stop without some assistance. The assistance comes in the form of three cables, each with a width approximately the size of a human wrist. A hook off the back of the plane drops, and the pilot lands in a precise position so that the hook catches one of three cables. Miss the cable? Go around and try again. Catch the cable and you go from 150-0 mph in approximately 2 seconds. 

What was it like inside? AWESOME! About 10 seconds before landing, our safety officers gave us warning to take out positions. "HERE WE GO! HERE WE GO!" they shouted, arms in the air. Because we are facing the rear of the plane, inertia pushed us back as if we were on a roller coaster taking off. Except we didn't take off. We landed. 

Once outside the plane, we were greeted with a 5-7 sailor line-up that we passed through. They saluted as the Admirals walked through. A quick walk inside, and all of a sudden, we left the loud, organized chaos of the flight deck and were greeted by the Commanding Officer of the ship, Prospective Commanding Officer, Executive Officer, and Command Master Chief. These are the guys in charge of the ship. And they're inviting us to dine with them. Unreal.

The officers went around and introduced who they were and what they do aboard the ship. We watched a short video about what the Strike Group does. Turns out that the Truman has been involved with some amazing humanitarian efforts. After Katrina, the earthquake in Japan, and the monsoon in Thailand, they provided fresh water via their four, 100,000 gallon a day each desalination pumps. The Navy's new motto is "A global force for good." The proof is in the pudding. And we saw the pudding. But there was no actual pudding. I like pudding.

After a quick nosh (as an aside, each division up the chain has its own culinary specialists, or CS. We were being served by the Admiral's personal CS. The Admiral has a staff of about 80 that go wherever he goes and supports the work he does. Have I mentioned he's a badass?), we made our way to the Chapel where we started to learn about religious life onboard the ship.

There is only one chapel on the ship, but it is considered a multi-faith chapel. There are a total of 4 chaplains on board the Truman serving a variety of needs. The Chapel has a Protestant Tabernacle, a Catholic alter, and a Jewish ark with a Torah that was saved from Lithuania during the holocaust. The space is amazing, and we learned that the chaplain's role is to help facilitate any religious practice. So if the crew wants a gospel service, the Rabbi may be the one setting up the sound, even though he won't lead the service. Or the Father may help set up chairs up chairs for the Passover Seder. Or the minister may block the room for those who wish to observe the Jedi religion. Apparently, there are some that identify as such.

From the chapel, we toured the tower, which controls planes on approach, on the deck, and departures. This was followed by a tour of the bridge, where all of the ship's navigations happens. I got to sit in the Captain's chair. No seriously, it's not just a captain's chair, it is THE Captain's chair. I had a chance to speak one-on-one with the Captain. He was a very nice guy. This job has been his dream job since he was a kid. He started sailing, and when he found out that in order to get this position that he needed to be an aviator, he became an aviator. It was so refreshing to see a person in such a senior position to still care so deeply about his work and to feel that immense gratitude for what he gets to do every single day. Then, my favorite part, we got to tour the flight deck.

After another safety briefing, we donned our white, VIP labeled gear including a turtle neck (yes, even on the Arabian Sea when it is 120 degrees out, they wear turtle necks), a life vest, and a cranial with goggles. I took video of all of this, and the video at the top. 

The flight deck was amazing. Planes are turning on a dime, launching off the deck, landing on wires, and it is all coordinated by people in variously colored shirts, all signifying their job. Everyone has a job. No, that's not right. Everyone has a mission. 

That was a central theme to the entire trip: it's not just a job, it's a mission. Truth be told, no one said those words to me, but it was understood. Everyone did their task as if it was the most important part of the ship's mission. Especially on the flight deck. This was much more than just planes taking off and landing and moving on the deck. This was a mission.

Oh yeah, and we saw planes super up close. See the video and you'll get what I mean.

We then toured the largest hall on the ship that is not a plane hangar. In this room, they have religious services. It's also where the anchor chains wind up and down. By the way, each chain in the link weighs 360 pounds. The chain alone, from end to anchor weighs approximately 50,000 pounds. And it flows through this room. No Athiests in a bunker, they say? No Athiests when that thing spins.

After a quick tour of the general store, where sailors can get additional food and sundries, we sat down to dinner with the CO and Admiral Shelanski. The Rabbi on board the ship (not the Rabbi Admiral) led a brief prayer. It was more like a convocation you would hear to begin a session of Congress. Except instead of ending with, "in Jesus name, Amen," it started with, "Hakadosh Baruch Hu" (the Holy, Blessed One). We all stood until the Admiral sat. This was formal.

During dinner, Admiral Shelanski and the Skipper (aka, the Captain, aka, Commanding Officer) talked to us about daily life on the ship and what it's like to run a Carrier (before Admiral Shelanski was promoted, he was the CO of the Truman). After some stories about the war of 1812, and how it was a defining moment for the US Navy, we got to stand on the "Vulture's Ledge" and watch the last training flights of the day come around, ending the day's flight ops with a beautiful sunset in the background. After a while, we retired to the Admiral's deck and smoked Truman cigars with the Admiral as he told us more stories about the war of 1812, the history of the term "Old Iron Sides," and the influence of a Jewish naval officer named Uriah Levi.

At around 9:50 PM (2150), Rabbi Robinson led the evening prayer over the loudspeaker to the whole ship. After he finished, he turned around with a big, proud smile. "I never thought I'd do that again!" he remarked. "But think of it: that message just went out to around 5,000 people. Think of what it meant to them."

And there it was. This is holy work. This is mission driven work.

Then, we finally went to sleep.

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Day 2
Our second day began at 5:30 AM (0530). At 6:00 AM (0600), we had morning services, led by one of the Rabbis in our group. As an aside, the Rabbi chaplain on board the ship would not lead services for us (and I forgot to mention that we had services the previous day, which he, too, would not lead). Why? Because he is an Orthodox Rabbi, and if he was to lead services, he would not consider our group to be a minyan (group of ten male Jews, according to more traditional rules; whereas Progressive Jews include women in the count), and he would want to set up a mechitza (divider between men and women). Since he knew those two stipulations would not fly (pun intended) with our group, he invited one of the other Rabbis in the group to lead services. A lovely gesture, but an insight as to what kind of battle the Progressive Jewish community is facing when it comes to military chaplaincy. 

My friend Erica read Torah beautifully, and I gave an Aliyah (blessings before and after reading the Torah). As is traditional, I touched my siddur, my prayerbook, to the Torah scroll. No, that's not accurate. I touched my Grandfather's siddur, his prayerbook, to the Torah scroll. My Mom would have cried. Come to think of it, she's probably crying now. It's okay, Mom. You can take a tissue break.

After services, we had the opportunity to have breakfast with some Jewish sailors. We spoke with one guy who works on the navigation deck. He is ending his service in two weeks and is pretty excited to be back on land. He is a "lay leader" onboard the ship. This basically means that if needed, he will help lead services and light candles with other Jewish sailors. It is wonderful that these kids, and they really are kids, are getting the opportunity to take ownership of their experiences and Jewish ritual practices. I asked if he was going to continue to be involved in synagogue life when he gets back. He said he would, but I got the sense that he was just saying that because he was talking to us. Re-entry is so difficult. And we, in the civilian world, should do more to help re-engage these Sailors.

This was also one of those moments where we were getting a slightly rosier picture of what it's like on the ship. Maybe it's because we were with the Admiral, but ours was the only table in the entire, huge mess hall (dining area) that was set up with table cloths and nicer flatware. One table over, Sailors were eating on trays, on a table you would imagine would look like on a huge ship dining hall.

After breakfast, we had the opportunity to see more of the day-to-day goings-on on board the ship. Our first stop was the recycling center. Yes, you heard right. The recycling center. They do all of their recycling processing on board. Trash comes in one of three types of paper bags: one for organic materials (i.e., food waste), one for paper, and one for plastics. The organic material is ground up to a pulp and tossed out to sea to feed the fishies. The paper and plastic products are processed through a machine that heats them, then crushes them into 1 inch thick discs that are about as wide as an arm. They stack them up, and when they reach a port with recycling facilities, they dump them off and the materials get recycled. Another example that the Navy is really changing itself to be a "global force for good."

The rest of the morning we were able to see some other interesting areas, including their media center, where they produce a television newscast for the ship as well as interviews of Sailors and run the ship-wide TV and radio stations. We also saw their PR department, where they print photos, make copies (and yes, there were four copiers: one black & white and one color for unclassified materials, and one color and one black & white for classified materials), and do the things that you would expect to see at a Kinkos. But it's on a ship. This is also where the photographers do their work, and where the daily newspaper is edited and published.

We also got to see the "chief's mess." This is where higher ranking officers get to eat. Clearly, it's much nicer, but there are still elements that blew us away. For example, the first thing you see when you walk in is a table setup for the generic prisoner of war who is missing in action. A turned over cup, a sliced lemon on the plate. Only a salt shaker, no pepper. Another reminder every time they walk into the mess that this work is not just a job, it's a mission. Also, on each table were a variety of sauces for a variety of palates. There was ketchup, soy sauce, hot sauce…that in and of itself was another example of the melting-pot of America that is represented in the military. And also of how the military takes care of every one of its members.

Then we walked through the hangar bay, which is the largest area on the ship. Each section of the bay has an elevator to the flight deck (the only elevators on the ship; everything else is a steep stair climb) and huge doors that can section off that part of the bay. As our guide put it, "On each door is a giant mural (showing different parts of Truman's life). Someone took their time. They look real nice." We also had the chance to walk through the "jet shop" where they repair engines. I took pictures for my friend Adam, who also worked in a similar jet shop in San Diego.

We also got to see the "Truman Room." This is like a mini-museum of Truman's life. In addition to artifacts from his childhood, there are also quotations and artifacts from his presidency including the actual paper from his first Executive Order: the American recognition of the newly formed State of Israel. Of course, right under that is a carbon copy of his authorization to drop the nuclear bomb, written like a note you would put on your fridge to not forget the milk. No mention of the bomb, just an acknowledgement of the order number and a "no sooner than" date. His life was really incredible and filled with heart-wrenching decisions.

We were also able to see the barracks of the lower-ranking Sailors. Three bunks high, a little bit of storage in a container beneath each bed and curtains to draw over each bed space. Each section has two sets of bunk-beds, so six Sailors share one area. And these sections are all one right next to the other, housing about 150 people in one big room. 

Then we got to see some of the inner-workings of flight ops (think the Carrier version of FAA air traffic control) and the war room, which had to be "sterilized" before we entered so we wouldn't see anything we were not supposed to. Then again, we were off the coast of Georgia, so I'm not totally sure what they could have been looking at that would have been so sensitive. Oh well. Considering that was the only room where we could not take pictures, I'm not going to complain too much.

Our last stop was having lunch with some of the other higher-ups on the ship. Two other group participants and I sat with Commander Warnock, another really nice guy who is also transferring off the ship in a few days. We asked him what the most important job on this ship was, in his opinion. His response: "What I do. But you'll get the same response from every single person on the ship." And that's the truth. I've mentioned before that what made this trip so powerful is the sense of team, community, and mission-driven action. It's not a job, it's a mission.

We then walked to our good-bye lounge where we said goodbye to our hosts and they gave us some incredible parting gifts, including a disc with photos from our journey, a certificate saying that we trap-landed on the carrier with a photo of our landing, a photo book of our trip, and a coin bearing the battle flag and the seal of the Truman. Meanwhile, as had become normal, the noise of planes were constantly interrupting our program with the loud, spontaneous sounds of take-off and landing.

We signed the guest book, first signed by Truman's daughter when the ship was commissioned and has been signed by every Distinguished Visitor, including President Clinton (One higher-up said that he was the first one to stay in the Captain's chambers. "I don't know if he was alone in there…" Har har, sir.). 

After a safety briefing, we had our return flight to the base in Norfolk. Easy peasy.

Okay, I'm lying. There was SO much more to it!

First of all, we got onboard the plane, which was the same plane that we took out to the Truman, and then took off via catapult. Similar to the landing, right before we took-off, the flight safety crew threw up their hands and shouted, "HERE WE GO! HERE WE GO!" Then, with the power of hundreds of gallons of water worth of steam, we went from 0-150 mph in TWO SECONDS. How did it feel? AMAZING! Imagine a really fast roller coaster - the kind that start at nothing and shoots you off. Then, double that speed. And half the time to get to top speed. Oh, and remember, we were facing the back of the plane. So we were SLAMMED forward, caught by our safety harnesses. I don't have a video of us from inside the plane, but there is plenty of video above of the smaller jets taking off the same way.

Of course, as soon as we took off, and just like landing in Israel, everyone applauded.

Once in-flight, I realized that I had to pee. Badly. Now, they had said that we should go beforehand, and I did. But this was bad. A half-hour into the two hour flight, I knew I was not going to make it. I turned to the flight safety crew member sitting next to me. "I have to pee in a major way." "Don't worry," he said calmly, smiling a bit as if to say, "don't worry, it happens all the time." He walks me back, hands me a hose-like tube with a small funnel at its end. "Press this button," he says, pointing to a lever that clearly opens the flow. 

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the story of when I peed on a military plane over the Atlantic Ocean. 

When I got back to my seat, the Rabbi Admiral pulled me aside. "Come with me," he says.

And then he takes me into the cockpit. And the right seat, the seat of the co-pilot, is open. And it's waiting for me.

For the first time in my life, I got to sit in the co-pilot's seat, mid-flight. I could not stop smiling. Hell, I can't stop smiling thinking about the experience as I write this.

I sat with the pilot for about ten minutes. We talked about San Diego, the airfields he's flown into, why the Blue Angels are still at Miramar, even though it's a Marine base, and how much of a loss it was for the Navy to give up Miramar to the Marines, the process of getting to where he is (turns out, plane training is much like a quota system - once they have enough, if you come in too late, you're out of luck), he talked to air traffic control (fun fact: if you ever listen to Air Traffic Control and hear a plane with the call sign "Rawhide" instead of something like "American" or "Southwest," it's a Navy plane), and we talked about the beautiful view. 

For those that didn't know, becoming a pilot is my pipe-dream. It's not a practical journey, and it would mean putting that life ahead of family, much more so than the rabbinate will, and that life sacrifice is just not something I'm willing to make. Still, it's fun to be an enthusiast!

At one point, I said, "Look, I'm happy to sit up here all day, so just let me know when I need to go back!" He let me stay a few minutes longer, up until the point where the co-pilot came in and began the descent back into Norfolk Naval Airport.

The return flights from Norfolk to Dallas and on to Los Angeles were fine, made a whole lot better with free wifi and the ability to write those first two posts.



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Epilogue

When I look back on this trip, I'm going to remember one thing: It's not a job, it's a mission. It is a feeling I gathered from the first moment I walked on board. These Sailors are doing some of the most difficult jobs in the world, and they are, at the same time, some of the nicest people I have ever met. When was the last time you went somewhere and when you asked where the restroom is, they not only took you there, but waited outside to take you back to the group, just so you wouldn't get lost? Without a doubt, this was the best customer service I had ever experienced. And they work for US. 

I wrote a letter to Rabbi Robinson on the flight home:


Rabbi Robinson,
     Thank you so much for putting this incredible experience together. It gave me such a wonderful insight into the lives of Sailors and what it is like to be on a working carrier. Not to mention it was a blast!!!
     There are defining moments when we reevaluate the work we do and why we do it. This was one of those moments for me. Surely, the path of chaplaincy involves asking many questions about what kind of Rabbi I would want to become. The answers, if there ever are answers, take time to develop. But having this experience has truly enhanced my ability to make a more informed choice. The lessons I am taking back will stay with me throughout my rabbinate and life, and will influence whatever community I end up with, be it on a base or in a shul.
     Hopefully, too, I can use this experience to help others find their way to chaplaincy to create meaningful spiritual experiences for our troops. 
     Thank you again for the incredible opportunity, and I look forward to seeing you when you visit HUC in Los Angeles. 
All the best,
Jeremy

I don't know if military chaplaincy is right for me for a number of reasons, but I do have a much greater appreciation for what the Navy does and why supporting their efforts matters. This trip has taught me so much about what it means to be mission-driven and purpose-driven. It's not about the job. It's about what the job means in the bigger picture.

The Navy: A Global Force for Good.

Shouldn't that be a motto for us all?