The Three Chiefs
Let’s get one thing out of the way: Chiefs are people. I’m not a Chief, just someone who’s dealt with Chiefs, so if you disagree with anything that follows, no big deal. Still, if you’re willing to take criticism onboard, this is one sailor’s interpretation of what makes a great Chief.
Case Study 1: Senior Chief Sonar
My personal experience is varied heavily. My first Chief was hyper-competent. He’s now a Senior Chief, he’ll eventually be a Master Chief, and there’s nobody currently serving in the Navy that I think knows the Sonar Technician rating better than he does. We didn’t get along. He didn’t like me, because I was your typical “I’m just here so I won’t get in trouble” seaman. I did everything he ever told me to do, because holy hell did he command respect. He wasn’t my favorite LCPO, but in terms of raw talent, this guy has it in spades. I hope he does amazing things in the Navy for years to come.
We’re good now. When I made Second-class, I found a half-cup of give-a-f*ck (his favorite term) and I’m a much more effective sailor than I was back in the day. We served on shore duty together, and by that time he was able to tolerate my presence. He’s also a spectacular boxer, as an aside.
Case Study 2: Chief Xbox
My second Chief was not competent. He made Chief in 18 years, and while that’s not exactly a condemnation of his performance (I know plenty of great sailors who never made Chief, or made it very late), in his case, it made sense. To put the way he led into context, I’ll give you a story:
When he first checked into my command, we immediately noticed he was socially awkward. That’s fine, a Chief isn’t there to make friends. We had a guy who just transferred to shore, which happened to be the same office my new Chief transferred from. We lost track of Chief around 0900 during the workday, and continued working on auto-pilot, like a division should be able to do. At 1500, we began looking at leaving for the day, when we got a call from our guy who just detached: our new Chief was at his old office on base, playing Xbox with a couple of his buddies.
Our LPO, obviously, was pretty pissed. He let us go for the day. He stayed behind, since he still had a couple things to do around the ship. At 1700, 8 hours after he left, Chief returned, and raised a colossal fit when he noticed we had all left, since he hadn’t given the say-so. He wasn’t aware we knew he was over at his old office, and our LPO called him out on it. He fired the LPO, as he was “undermining his authority.”
As I tell this story, it sounds so rage-inducing that I feel like I might not be telling both sides. I am. I think, maybe, he might have been establishing that long days should be expected. If that’s the intention, it doesn’t hammer the point quite so well if you leave the ship altogether to play Xbox for eight hours straight.
Aside from that, he loved to engage in seagull leadership: He would stay in his rack 14 hours a day, but for an hour a week he would swoop in at quarters, shit all over everything, and then fly off thinking he just fixed perceived issues. He once gave us a twenty-minute spiel about how we were going to hold training weekly from then on. We continued holding the weekly training we had been holding for years, but he wasn’t aware of because he never attended.
Case Study 3: Chief Game-changer
My third chief was originally one of my LPOs. He was absolutely, hands-down the best influence I’ve ever had in the Navy. To this day, when someone asks me how I got where I am, I’ll name this Chief. Since he was originally a First-class on my ship, he wasn’t my LCPO, he operated parallel to Chief Xbox from the last story, who was the LCPO. Still, since Chief Xbox was retiring, our new Chief was really running the division.
When he first got to the ship, he found us all dirtbagging. I used to try to see how long I could make it without shaving. My record was five days. He never let me go a single day without shaving, and he’d shame me properly if caught. He had every chance to sit down and coast through the laziness permeating our division, a culture of “not a single f*ck to give” that somehow evaded detection for a long, long time. He could have joined in, hiding during the working day to avoid tasking, walking around with unsat uniforms, and generally making yourself a menace to the Navy. Don’t pretend you didn’t do it too.
He didn’t stand for it. He made us all much, much more effective human beings, not to mention sailors. By the time I left that ship, I’m incredibly proud to say he gave me his stamp of approval. He recently offered me the chance to come to his new ship, which was an honor I wish I could partake (operational commitments prohibit that transfer).
As I get older and look back on the people who have influenced me, I’m glad I had two of the three Chiefs I had on my ship. Like I said: Chiefs are people. Some are spectacular, some aren’t. It’s exhausting being a Chief, certainly, and I don’t envy Senior Chief Sonar for having to deal with 20-year old me.
If there’s one thing to take away from all this: As a Chief, you have a profound level of influence over your guys’ lives. That can either be a positive, or a negative. Don’t let it be a negative.
Honor your best Chiefs with Navy Crow’s Anchored Chief’s Coin! I know I’ll be sending off two of these!
