I do not want to leave the Navy, but I will.  I know this, even as I
discuss-with my husband on a weekly basis-the possibility of staying at
least through my department head tour.  Even though I truly love being a
surface warfare officer, I cannot do this for the next 15 years.  Why will I
leave?  There are a lot of reasons, many of which already have been briefed
to the CNO and most of the flag officers.  But very few junior officers will
open up fully to an admiral, so the extent of the problem still may not be
appreciated. 

There are several elements: a lack of compensatory pay for
work done; a lack of trust in senior leadership; a lack of understanding
about the balance between personal and professional life; and a
disappointment in the loss of the warrior ethos that permeated the Navy when
I was at the Naval Academy.  The most compelling reason for my decision to
leave my chosen profession, however, is a total absence of fun, coupled with
an understanding that the senior leadership is unwilling to accept the fact that the Navy is broken.

What I mean by "fun" is the passionate enjoyment and fulfillment that comes
from doing work you love.  It is the excitement that comes upon waking up,
ready to face a new day filled with challenges and opportunities.  It is the
pure unadulterated satisfaction you feel at the end of a hard day, knowing
that you have made a difference in the world.  This is "fun" to me.

The fact that I am still in the Navy already puts me in a minority.  At my
five-year reunion weekend in Annapolis, I was surprised that as much as 25%
of my class attended.  And I was even more surprised to learn that 80% of
those who attended were out of the Navy.  As I talked with my classmates
about their new careers and how their lives are, I noticed that they all
seemed very happy with their decisions.  The interesting thing about our
conversations was that we never discussed the reasons why they had left.
Everyone already understood.

During the first weeks of Plebe Summer one of my detailers asked me what I
wanted to do in the Navy.  I told him that I had joined to become an
intelligence or cryptology officer.  Wrong answer!  I was told emphatically
that I was there to be a warrior, that I was joining the Navy to kill
people.  This took me aback-though deep inside, I understood I might have to
give an order that would lead to someone's death.  After all, that is what
military service is all about.  I do not think I ever would have considered
myself a warrior-or taken being called a warrior as a compliment-until I met
my first commanding officer on the USS Whidbey Island (LSD-41), Commander Terry Pierce.

I honestly can say that I have never met another officer like Commander
Pierce.  Although he claimed that he was just a backwoods rube from Oregon,
he is a highly educated man, well read on past and present warfighting.  He
is a Civil War buff and loves to apply the Marines' maneuver warfare
framework to Civil War battles and to daily situations on board ship.  He
taught me how to think differently:  looking for surfaces and gaps; focusing
on the critical vulnerability in a situation; and thinking two levels up to
make the boss's job easier.  He trusted my instincts when I served as
Officer of the Deck.  He asked for input on things-from policies for the
ship to grammar recommendations on drafts of articles he was writing for
Proceedings.  He had some quirks that occasionally drove us crazy, and there
were times when I did not understand him at all-but I still respected him
tremendously.  I wanted to be a CO just as good as he was, but I found out
very quickly just how much in! the minority he is. 

Many of the other senior officers I have met are so
intent on attaining the next rank that they are oblivious to the great
amount of time they dedicate to that end-and the difficulty that causes for
the people working for them.  As a corollary to this, these same senior
officers are afraid to speak up and tell their own seniors the truth.  No CO
is going to admit to his commodore that his ship is not ready to carry out
her mission-and as a result, the ship's personnel suffer.  I cannot begin to
count the number of hours I have spent on the ship (when I did not have
duty) trying to finish some "emergent" tasking for some superfluous
inspection that was supposedly just a "training assist visit"-but which the
CO treated as a full-blown Propulsion Examination Board visit.  We focus on
the inane administrative minutia; as a result, the warfighting skills we are
supposed to refine for our nation are eroding.

Why do nine out of ten junior officers not want to command?  Why would
anyone want to put themselves through the wringer of constant stress, long
nights away from their families, looking over their shoulder for a potential
backstab, or worrying that one of their officers or sailors might make a
mistake that would cost them their careers?  After Commander Pierce, I have
yet to meet another CO who would classify his command tour as "fun."
I do not think that command is what most senior officers want anymore;
command at sea is seen as a necessary evil en route to flag rank.  We junior
officers have not lost our patriotism or our commitment to freedom-we have
just lost the rose-colored glasses that were issued to us at graduation.
For too many of us, the Navy is no longer an adventure-it is a chore that
takes longer and longer each day. 

I love going to sea and being a warfighter.  But the Navy is not about going to sea or being a warrior
anymore.  It is about day-to-day administrative drudgery; it is about
micromanaging your sailors' personal and professional lives; it is about
having your hands tied when all you want is what is best for your sailors.
I know the party line:  things are changing.  If there is real change, I
have not seen it-and I cannot make myself believe that the reductions in the
interdeployment training cycle will stand.  Call me cynical, but I think
"they" will just change the names of these "inspections" to "assist visits,"
and we all know what happens to those.  I do not really think that one
lieutenant can make a difference-although I have tried very hard, within my
own areas of responsibility.  When it comes right down to it, the Navy just
is not fun anymore.  And if it is not fun, why do it?

A qualified surface warfare officer, Lieutenant Butler served tours on two
ships and screened for department head school

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