Saturday, April 10, 2010

Fair winds . . .

. . . and following seas.

Yesterday, I had the honor of being invited to the retirement ceremony of a great friend, a commander in the United States Navy.

Jim spent his entire 20-year career in the helicopter Wing. Pilot, flight instructor, department head, Wing chief of staff. He flew helicopters in harm's way.

The Wing gave him a terrific send-off, and he deserved it. The Navy has a great tradition of ceremony. Whether it be the christening of a ship, a change of command, or a retirement, they do it with pomp and circumstance - and rightly so.

Jim's retirement was appropriately held in a helo hangar, on a deck in front of a garrison flag that must have been 15' x 24'. There were ushers, sideboys and the Fleet Forces Band. Dress whites, with white gloves and swords were the uniform of the day.

For those of you who haven't seen a Navy ceremony, the officers first march through the line of sideboys, smartly salute, and are piped "on board." Then, there are speeches, a decoration (medal) and other awards.

During his remarks, Jim described his "best day" in the Navy. He was Officer-in-Charge (OIC) of a group of seven helicopters flying supplies out of Northern Africa to the Bonhomme Richard, a large amphibious ship. During the many hops they made from shore to the ship, as they were communicating and coordinating by radio, Jim found out that all six of the other Navy and Marine pilots were former students of his. He had taught his whole ad-hoc squadron how to fly.

When the ceremony ended, Jim saluted the Commodore, and asked: "Permission to go ashore, sir." The Commodore appeared to be a bit choked up, and quietly said: "Permission granted." Jim was piped off to the announcement: "Departing, James -------, Commander, United States Navy, Retired."

As he walked down the gangway, the Fleet Forces Band struck up Anchors Away.

Of course, since I am relatively unemotional, and never cry at weddings, or anything like that, it didn't affect me at all . . .

Yeah. Right.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Aww.

As I started reading my first thought was to comment "I bet you cried"... I should have known better!

It made me think about what my "best day" would be in my career. I have a few years left yet, assuming I stick with the same career. Not sure what it would be so far - the impermanence of computers means much of my efforts no longer exist or are museum pieces; partly the reason for the poetry - mud against the wall in the hope one of them will stick around long after I've faded from the IRS records.

I like the final piping off deck, cute, respectful, poignant.