Getting Ready for I-Day

Induction Day is the first day of Plebe Summer, and it’s a shock to the system for pretty much everyone who goes through it. One doesn’t exactly get the chance to ease into military culture; few things in life are as immediate as the first time a detailer screams in your face. The day would be memorable for that alone, but what makes the memory truly vivid is how I-Day is such a sensory experience. You don’t just remember the events; you remember every detail: the smell of new whiteworks, the sound of orders being barked, the way your head feels after getting a haircut designed for time efficiency instead of fashion. It is all new, it is all foreign, and for most, it can seem overwhelming.

That was certainly the case for me, although it was my own fault. I grew up around the Navy and even spent a decent amount of time in Annapolis. Coming into I-Day, I thought that I had a pretty good idea of what I was getting into. I wasn’t dumb enough to be cocky, but my confidence gave me a false sense of preparation. I came to USNA knowing a little bit about ships and aircraft, which for Plebe Summer is virtually useless. While waiting in line before checking in at Alumni Hall, I saw some of my classmates studying old copies of Reef Points— the little book of knowledge that plebes are required to memorize— that they had acquired through various means. They were learning the things that detailers would actually be asking, and I realized that I was behind before I even started.

As it turns out, it didn’t really matter. The only people who have a clue on I-Day are the plebes who went to the Naval Academy Prep School. NAPSters already know the basics— how to march, how to wear a uniform, how to correctly make your bed, etc.— making them the leaders among their peers. The people who studied Reef Points weren’t any better off. There is nothing you can do to escape the wrath of the detailers as a plebe. It’s sort of the whole point.

Every incoming plebe class is filled with the same kinds of people. They’re scholars who finished at the top of their high school classes. Athletes who were stars on the field. High achievers. These aren’t people who are accustomed to failure, which on the surface seems like a good thing. There are, however, important lessons to be learned from failure, which is why plebes are required to memorize so much even though to do so is next to impossible. They’re supposed to fail. Character development is a central theme of Plebe Summer, and there is no lesson more important than accountability. The best way to teach it is to be forced to face the consequences of failing at a task, and during Plebe Summer, everyone does.

Everyone, then, is in the same boat, from the prior enlisted sailor to the guy who hadn’t even heard of the Naval Academy until a coach called to recruit him. That’s one of the best parts of the whole experience: the diversity. My classmates came from every corner of the country, from every color and creed, and we all had to work together to form a team. There was the peanut farmer from Texas, the surfer from California, the kid from Kansas who was joining the Navy despite never having seen the ocean. They came from the city, the country, and even overseas. If you grew up in a bubble, it got shattered in a hurry. And we were better off for it.

As varied as the people were who came to the Naval Academy, so too were their reasons for doing so. Some people were excited about the academic reputation of the school, while others were recruited to play a sport. Some people are legacies, while most people (if they were honest) came because the price was right.

Why we chose to come to Annapolis was the topic of one of the first “discussions” that we had with our detailers. Through the art of gentle persuasion, they made it clear that there was only one acceptable reason: to become an officer in the Naval Service. It didn’t take long for us to catch on, but even after we started to give the “right” answer, it wasn’t enough. Our detailers had done their homework on us. My first roommate was a recruited athlete, and no matter what he said, the detailers didn’t believe him. “You’re just here to play lacrosse!”

The point of the whole drill was to get our minds in the right place. Whatever motivation we had for choosing USNA, we all had the same job to do once we graduated, and we needed to be focused on that end. It was a worthwhile exercise, but that’s all it was: an exercise. For those stepping up to the challenge when they report to USNA tomorrow for their own I-Day, it’s important to remember that.

Everyone has a moment during Plebe Summer, however fleeting, where they wonder what on earth they’re doing there. In his book, Recruiting Confidential, author David Claerbaut chronicles the college recruiting process experienced by his stepson, Chicago running back James Velissaris. James committed to the Naval Academy, and his family made the trip with him to Annapolis to see him sworn in on I-Day. When it came time to take the oath, though, James didn’t do it. Reading over the commitment papers, he felt that he was only there to play football; to him, that wasn’t reason enough to sign. Velissaris would end up playing for Harvard.

That thought can be exacerbated by various observers who contend that some reasons for choosing to attend the Naval Academy are more valid than others. It’s usually athletes that receive the brunt of their criticism; coming to USNA to play a sport, some say, isn’t good enough.

That assertion is pure bunk.

This attitude reflects a double standard. Those who say that they come because USNA is an excellent school don’t receive this criticism. Those who come because the Navy is their family business don’t hear it either. To the contrary, these people are usually applauded. Neither reason, though, it the same as coming to USNA to be a naval officer.

It’s important to consider the life experience of the average high school graduate. Let’s say that there is indeed a high schooler out there who comes to I-Day ready to make a career out of the Navy or Marine Corps. Sure, it’s a noble sentiment. But on what is it based? Has this shiny new graduate ever stood a watch? Has he or she ever deployed? Do they truly know what being a naval officer means? Of course not, nor should they be expected to. It’s good to come to Annapolis with a gung-ho attitude toward making a career out of the Navy or Marine Corps. It is not, however, a prerequisite.

The truth is that there is no wrong reason to come to the Naval Academy. It’s the school’s job to develop midshipmen into naval officers, regardless of whatever personal reasons for attending they might have. There is a cliché at the Academy that says that the people who think they’re lifers are the first to get out of the Navy, while those who think they’re getting out as soon as possible become admirals. There's some truth to that; no matter what one thinks going in, it isn't until you've experienced the life of a naval officer that you can know if it is for you. The goal of Academy admissions is not to screen for candidates who are dedicated to a Navy career from the beginning. It’s simply to find candidates with the moral, mental, and physical aptitude to succeed. The only thing the candidate needs to bring with him or her is a willingness to try and the drive to succeed.

There will be people who will tell the incoming Naval Academy class that they envy them as the new plebes set out to begin an exciting career, and that they would do it all over again if they could. I am not one of those people; I finished plebe year, and once is enough. I am, however, excited for them. The Naval Academy can be the start of lifelong friendships, academic growth, athletic achievement, and a rewarding career. Whatever your goals are, for those willing to raise their right hand tomorrow, I hope you reach them.

Welcome aboard, and Beat Army.