Our son was in DEP - the Delayed Entry Program for the Navy. The first time he went to MEPS, he signed a contract to be a Construction Electrician (CE) with the Seabees. I had never heard of the Seabees, so I started to research. I read everything I could get my hands on about them, watched the John Wayne movie, The Fighting Seabees. I bought Seabee t-shirts and stuck a Seabee poster up in his room. I got really excited that he was going to be a part of the closeknit group of the Construction Battallion.
And then about two months before his ship date, my son got a call from his recruiter. I could tell from my son's tone of voice that something serious was afoot. Sure enough, an opening had come available in the AECF program. Most Navy recruits contract to become a specific rating, as my son had done in signing on to be a EC. The Advanced Electronics and Computer Field is different. Recruits sign up for this training program, and after boot camp, the Navy decides whether or not the Sailor will be an ET (Electronics Technician) or an FC (Fire Controlman). The AECF schools are pretty demanding academically, and they require a six year enlistment.
My son was almost immediately convinced that this would be his new path, but he also wanted our opinion - and approval. I was a bit disappointed that we wouldn't be Seabee parents, but was more than happy to read about all the training our son would receive. We were a bit concerned about the rigorous study, but our recruiter, who had worked with our son for months, was encouraging. The recruiter told how he had been a lousy student in high school, but had totally changed in the Navy. And the recruiter was an FC.
That fact probably sealed the deal for our son. He really wanted to be an FC, although his recruiter cautioned that this decision would be made by the Navy. It was our first exposure to the term, "The needs of the Navy." (It wouldn't be our last.)
So documents were faxed back and forth, and our son switched to the AECF. The uncertainty of the Navy was becoming a reality to us.
And we sailed on toward Thanksgiving - and Christmas...what was Christmas going to be without this son of ours opening his gifts on Christmas morning...
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Friday, November 14, 2008
He's Gone...
On Sunday, our pastor asked the youth group to come up and gather around our family and pray. I was in the middle of it, so I couldn't see, but my friend said that it was a beautiful sight; about 75 kids came forward.
This morning we got up, and as promised, our city put flags up and down our street. My sister-in-law, who's only been in America for a year, said that she started to cry as soon as she saw them. She and her family were the first guests of the day - coming to tell our boy good-bye.
It occured to us that not everyone in our town would know why the flags were up. So at 8:30 I called the local sign company, and by 9:30 they had printed a banner reading with our son's name and "'Mayberry's' Newest Navy Recruit. God Bless You." My dad hung it from our front porch.
The cake arrived at 10:00. "Fair Winds and Following Seas", it said, and had the Navy seal modified with our son's name.
Our neighbor across the street is a veteran. He sent for my son, and have him an old silver dollar. I tried to keep it at the house, but our boy wanted it in his wallet. A glimmer of sentimentality. maybe?
Upstairs, we had already cleaned the bathroom, but as I glanced in the door, a wet towel was on the floor, and his clothes were on the counter. They're still there.
At 11:30 the first of the guests came. A neighbor. Then more neighbors, then a lady I do some work with. Four of our pastors. Family. Friends. More people than I expected. It's a beautiful day, and we milled around in the yard and on the porch, drank coffee and watched the Senior year tribute DVD I made for our boy. Our younger boys and a cousin came home from school. My husband came home from work. We cut the cake. The newspaper came. All to tell our boy good-bye, and to wish him well.
At 12:30, a US Government car pulled into the driveway.
The house is quiet now. Our oldest never made it home from college. The party guests have gone home. The youngest went back to school. The third went out to eat. My husband returned to work.
And that other boy - our second born - they took him away.
This morning we got up, and as promised, our city put flags up and down our street. My sister-in-law, who's only been in America for a year, said that she started to cry as soon as she saw them. She and her family were the first guests of the day - coming to tell our boy good-bye.
It occured to us that not everyone in our town would know why the flags were up. So at 8:30 I called the local sign company, and by 9:30 they had printed a banner reading with our son's name and "'Mayberry's' Newest Navy Recruit. God Bless You." My dad hung it from our front porch.
The cake arrived at 10:00. "Fair Winds and Following Seas", it said, and had the Navy seal modified with our son's name.
Our neighbor across the street is a veteran. He sent for my son, and have him an old silver dollar. I tried to keep it at the house, but our boy wanted it in his wallet. A glimmer of sentimentality. maybe?
Upstairs, we had already cleaned the bathroom, but as I glanced in the door, a wet towel was on the floor, and his clothes were on the counter. They're still there.
At 11:30 the first of the guests came. A neighbor. Then more neighbors, then a lady I do some work with. Four of our pastors. Family. Friends. More people than I expected. It's a beautiful day, and we milled around in the yard and on the porch, drank coffee and watched the Senior year tribute DVD I made for our boy. Our younger boys and a cousin came home from school. My husband came home from work. We cut the cake. The newspaper came. All to tell our boy good-bye, and to wish him well.
At 12:30, a US Government car pulled into the driveway.
The house is quiet now. Our oldest never made it home from college. The party guests have gone home. The youngest went back to school. The third went out to eat. My husband returned to work.
And that other boy - our second born - they took him away.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
MEPS and DEP - Two of our First Navy Acronyms
Not long after our intial meeting with the recruiter, our son had his appointment at MEPS. MEPS is the Military Entrance and Processing Station. MEPS is where an applicant is screened to determine whether he or she is eligible to enlist in the United States Armed Services. All branches of the military are represented in each MEPS building. There are 65 MEPS in the United States and its territories.
Our son was told that he would be taken to the nearest MEPS, which was an hour away from our home. He would be given dinner, a hotel room, then awakened early the next morning for a day that would include testing, interviews, a job assignment, and an enlistment oath. The recruiter encouraged us to come for the enlistment ceremony so we could see our son swear in. He also assured us that our son would be safe at the MEPS hotel. We found this amusing. fter all, he was going to join the Navy, which by definition is not a safe job...
We've always made an effort to be present for our boys' activities and awards ceremony. For a time in our life, it seemed like every day we had a game, an awards ceremony, or a field trip. So it was sad for us when we discovered that our son's MEPS visit would take place while Mr. Dasch was out of the country with another of our sons. The most important day of his life, and only mom would be there.
But I was going to be there. The recruiter told me to be there at 9:30.
The afternoon before the visit, our son left for the recruiter's office. In about 30 minutes, he was back home. He had forgotten his clothes. Panicked, he drove back to the office, where his amused recruiter took him to MEPS to begin initial processing. He checked him into a hotel, and our son had a roommate for the evening. They both woke up at 3:30, and ate breakfast.
Our son has always been an unusually healthy eater. This morning, he drank several glasses of juice, instead of the coffee and soda that some of the other boys were drinking. For once, that was the wrong thing to do. When I got to MEPS at 9:30, our boy was waiting to have a second sugar test done; the juice made his sugar high - something that had never happened to him before.
And I had forgotten a book. After reading all the military reading material in the waiting room, I watched a Lifetime movie with all the other bored individuals waiting with me. Just when it was getting really interesting - and rather explicit - the MEPS receptionist came and changed the channel.
Finally, our son was cleared to proceed. He went back to meet with a Navy job counselor. She matched his ASVAB scores to the jobs that were available at the time, and gave a choice. Our son chose CE - Construction Electrician. He was going to be a Seabee!
In a bit, they invited me back to review the contract. I took a video of our son signing his life over to the Navy. The I took a picture of the recruiters and our son. And then our camera died! The swearing in ceremony was next, and I was really sad that I wasn't going to be able to take pictures.
There were only two recruits with family at the swearing in. I was there with a grandfather - a Veteran - and his wife. They had come to see their grandson swear in to the Marines. After a very inspirational and well delivered speech by a young Army officer that I declare was only 12 years old, the recruits were asked to raise their right hands and swear. The grandfather cried during the oath; it truly was a moving moment.
The good news is that pictures can only be taken after the actual swearing in, and that kind grandmother (with her old fashioned disposible camera), offered to take our pictures and send them to me. Which she did.
Unlike some of the recruits at MEPS, our son didn't ship the same day he swore in. He entered what is known as DEP, the Delayed Entry Program. His 'ship' date was still seven months away. Until that time, he would attend bi-weekly DEP meetings and keep his nose clean.
But driving away from MEPS it hit me. My son had joined the Navy. He really was going to leave us.
And I began to learn that Navy pride hurts.
Our son was told that he would be taken to the nearest MEPS, which was an hour away from our home. He would be given dinner, a hotel room, then awakened early the next morning for a day that would include testing, interviews, a job assignment, and an enlistment oath. The recruiter encouraged us to come for the enlistment ceremony so we could see our son swear in. He also assured us that our son would be safe at the MEPS hotel. We found this amusing. fter all, he was going to join the Navy, which by definition is not a safe job...
We've always made an effort to be present for our boys' activities and awards ceremony. For a time in our life, it seemed like every day we had a game, an awards ceremony, or a field trip. So it was sad for us when we discovered that our son's MEPS visit would take place while Mr. Dasch was out of the country with another of our sons. The most important day of his life, and only mom would be there.
But I was going to be there. The recruiter told me to be there at 9:30.
The afternoon before the visit, our son left for the recruiter's office. In about 30 minutes, he was back home. He had forgotten his clothes. Panicked, he drove back to the office, where his amused recruiter took him to MEPS to begin initial processing. He checked him into a hotel, and our son had a roommate for the evening. They both woke up at 3:30, and ate breakfast.
Our son has always been an unusually healthy eater. This morning, he drank several glasses of juice, instead of the coffee and soda that some of the other boys were drinking. For once, that was the wrong thing to do. When I got to MEPS at 9:30, our boy was waiting to have a second sugar test done; the juice made his sugar high - something that had never happened to him before.
And I had forgotten a book. After reading all the military reading material in the waiting room, I watched a Lifetime movie with all the other bored individuals waiting with me. Just when it was getting really interesting - and rather explicit - the MEPS receptionist came and changed the channel.
Finally, our son was cleared to proceed. He went back to meet with a Navy job counselor. She matched his ASVAB scores to the jobs that were available at the time, and gave a choice. Our son chose CE - Construction Electrician. He was going to be a Seabee!
In a bit, they invited me back to review the contract. I took a video of our son signing his life over to the Navy. The I took a picture of the recruiters and our son. And then our camera died! The swearing in ceremony was next, and I was really sad that I wasn't going to be able to take pictures.
There were only two recruits with family at the swearing in. I was there with a grandfather - a Veteran - and his wife. They had come to see their grandson swear in to the Marines. After a very inspirational and well delivered speech by a young Army officer that I declare was only 12 years old, the recruits were asked to raise their right hands and swear. The grandfather cried during the oath; it truly was a moving moment.
The good news is that pictures can only be taken after the actual swearing in, and that kind grandmother (with her old fashioned disposible camera), offered to take our pictures and send them to me. Which she did.
Unlike some of the recruits at MEPS, our son didn't ship the same day he swore in. He entered what is known as DEP, the Delayed Entry Program. His 'ship' date was still seven months away. Until that time, he would attend bi-weekly DEP meetings and keep his nose clean.
But driving away from MEPS it hit me. My son had joined the Navy. He really was going to leave us.
And I began to learn that Navy pride hurts.
Friday, March 7, 2008
Why Saying "I Got a 72 on the ASVAB" Ain't Right.
Our Sailor took the ASVAB his junior year in high school so he could get out of class. (Who knew that taking the lazy way out would lead to a career!) His AFQT score was pretty good, which is why we began getting calls from all the branches of the military.
It wasn't until much later that I found out about the ASVAB, how the ASVAB is scored, and what the scores mean. I'm not sure it would have made a lot of difference, but the curious side of my nature would have been satisfied much earlier. And I would have found at that saying, "I got a 72 on the ASVAB" was incorrect.
First of all, the ASVAB stands for Armed Services Vocational Aptitude Battery. It is routinely offered to juniors in high schools. There are nine sub-tests to the ASVAB, and they are scored separately. The math and language parts of the subtests are used to come up with an AFQT percentile. This percentile compares the test-taker's score to everyone else taking the test. A 72 means that the score was better than 72 percent of the others. In order to get into the Navy, you must get a 35 on the ASVAB - right? Wrong! You must have an AFQT of 35.
So what about the ASVAB scores? The ASVAB scores are individual raw scores from nine sub-tests. Sometimes they are called line scores. The Navy looks at these scores to see what rating a recruit qualifies to be. (Rating, by the way, means job.) For example, to qualify to be an Aviation Boatswain's Mate, the Navy looks at four ASVAB line scores, the verbal scores, the Arithmetic Reasoning score, the Mathematics Knowledge score, and the Auto Shop score. These four scores added together must equal 185 for the recruit to be given a contract to be an AB. On Navy sites, this is written VE+AR+MK+AS=185.
(You can get a more thorough explanation of the ASVAB score and the AFQT percentile at Navy-Info.com.)
So, when our boy came home, he told us his ASVAB score (he said it wrong, of course!), and we were suitably pleased and interested. It wasn't until later that we discovered exactly how important that score was to his future.
It wasn't until much later that I found out about the ASVAB, how the ASVAB is scored, and what the scores mean. I'm not sure it would have made a lot of difference, but the curious side of my nature would have been satisfied much earlier. And I would have found at that saying, "I got a 72 on the ASVAB" was incorrect.
First of all, the ASVAB stands for Armed Services Vocational Aptitude Battery. It is routinely offered to juniors in high schools. There are nine sub-tests to the ASVAB, and they are scored separately. The math and language parts of the subtests are used to come up with an AFQT percentile. This percentile compares the test-taker's score to everyone else taking the test. A 72 means that the score was better than 72 percent of the others. In order to get into the Navy, you must get a 35 on the ASVAB - right? Wrong! You must have an AFQT of 35.
So what about the ASVAB scores? The ASVAB scores are individual raw scores from nine sub-tests. Sometimes they are called line scores. The Navy looks at these scores to see what rating a recruit qualifies to be. (Rating, by the way, means job.) For example, to qualify to be an Aviation Boatswain's Mate, the Navy looks at four ASVAB line scores, the verbal scores, the Arithmetic Reasoning score, the Mathematics Knowledge score, and the Auto Shop score. These four scores added together must equal 185 for the recruit to be given a contract to be an AB. On Navy sites, this is written VE+AR+MK+AS=185.
(You can get a more thorough explanation of the ASVAB score and the AFQT percentile at Navy-Info.com.)
So, when our boy came home, he told us his ASVAB score (he said it wrong, of course!), and we were suitably pleased and interested. It wasn't until later that we discovered exactly how important that score was to his future.
Monday, March 3, 2008
Honor, Courage, Commitment
One of the first things I learned about in my Navy journey was the book Honor, Courage, Commitment
. This book was written about Boot Camp, and is the only one of its kind; the author actually followed a division through their eight weeks of Boot Camp.
From the plane ride to Chicago to the graduation ceremony, the book chronicles every move of the Recruits as they work toward becoming official US Sailors. I learned about haircuts, shots, and other fun processing week 'activities'. I followed the division as they went to class, learned to swim, passed (or didn't pass...) physical fitness tests, got sick, went to chapel. I got to 'see' the barracks, the galley, and even the head. (Head means bathroom in the Navy.) The book introduced me to basic Navy terminology like ASMO, Ricky Heaven, BZ, and PIR. The description of the post battle stations capping ceremony is so moving that I cried each time I read it.
The book is dated, however, and some of the things that have changed since its publication. Processing week has been eliminated. Battlestations has totally changed, and is now held in a state of the art simulator. New barracks (ships!) have been built, and Recruits now do much of their eating, training and learning in that one building.
But the obsolete parts did nothing to diminish the value of what I learned from the book. Honor, Courage, Commitment was a window into what my son was going to do in boot camp. I read it, then reread it, then read portions to Mr. Dasch, my mother, our other sons, and anyone else within torturing distance.
Honor, Courage, Commitment was chapter one in my Navy education.
And I was just getting started...
. This book was written about Boot Camp, and is the only one of its kind; the author actually followed a division through their eight weeks of Boot Camp.From the plane ride to Chicago to the graduation ceremony, the book chronicles every move of the Recruits as they work toward becoming official US Sailors. I learned about haircuts, shots, and other fun processing week 'activities'. I followed the division as they went to class, learned to swim, passed (or didn't pass...) physical fitness tests, got sick, went to chapel. I got to 'see' the barracks, the galley, and even the head. (Head means bathroom in the Navy.) The book introduced me to basic Navy terminology like ASMO, Ricky Heaven, BZ, and PIR. The description of the post battle stations capping ceremony is so moving that I cried each time I read it.
The book is dated, however, and some of the things that have changed since its publication. Processing week has been eliminated. Battlestations has totally changed, and is now held in a state of the art simulator. New barracks (ships!) have been built, and Recruits now do much of their eating, training and learning in that one building.
But the obsolete parts did nothing to diminish the value of what I learned from the book. Honor, Courage, Commitment
was a window into what my son was going to do in boot camp. I read it, then reread it, then read portions to Mr. Dasch, my mother, our other sons, and anyone else within torturing distance.Honor, Courage, Commitment
was chapter one in my Navy education.And I was just getting started...
How it all started...
We never dreamt our son would join the Navy. In a family of born travelers, he was the homebody. Hated to fly. Hated new situations.
But one day he came home and announced that he had decided to join the United States Navy. After we realized he really wasn't joking, we arranged a meeting with the recruiter that was poised to steal our 19 year old son away.
We were impressed. Persuasive but honest, the young Petty Officer that recruited our son gave us a good introduction to the Navy. And we needed to be introduced. Mr. Dasch is an immigrant, and I, Mrs. Dasch (I know, it's hysterical!), knew nothing about the Navy. In fact, other than some elderly uncles, noone in my family had ever been in the military at all.
We knew from Day One that although our son was joining, we were also in for a whole new education. Already, new vocabulary was cropping up. Like Petty Officer. And MEPS. And Seabees
. And Ratings. And PIR.
And one word took on a whole new meaning: PRIDE. We never realized how proud it would make us feel to be the parents of a son who would be serving our country. Our son, a first generation American, was going to help keep the United States of America free and safe.
Navy Pride. Navy Proud. Yep - that's us!
But one day he came home and announced that he had decided to join the United States Navy. After we realized he really wasn't joking, we arranged a meeting with the recruiter that was poised to steal our 19 year old son away.
We were impressed. Persuasive but honest, the young Petty Officer that recruited our son gave us a good introduction to the Navy. And we needed to be introduced. Mr. Dasch is an immigrant, and I, Mrs. Dasch (I know, it's hysterical!), knew nothing about the Navy. In fact, other than some elderly uncles, noone in my family had ever been in the military at all.
We knew from Day One that although our son was joining, we were also in for a whole new education. Already, new vocabulary was cropping up. Like Petty Officer. And MEPS. And Seabees
. And Ratings. And PIR.And one word took on a whole new meaning: PRIDE. We never realized how proud it would make us feel to be the parents of a son who would be serving our country. Our son, a first generation American, was going to help keep the United States of America free and safe.
Navy Pride. Navy Proud. Yep - that's us!
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