There was once a young man who joined the U.S. Navy and trained for submarine duty. He was assigned to a multi-million-dollar nuclear-powered asset and expected to perform certain maintenance duties.
The craft left Hawaii, sailed to… someplace. The young sailor knew not where. He fell into his routine: Eat, sleep, work, repeat. Probably 4-hour shifts, although that detail has escaped me.
The submarine completed a months-long cruise, and then — as I recall — another, and then returned to the home port for major retrofit. This lasted for a couple of years, which meant that our sailor, and others of the crew, lived on shore and went to work on the sub daily, returning to their apartments each night.
Not too different from civilian life.
And that was the extent of his Navy service.
No shots fired in anger, no exciting stories of stalking the enemy, no WW2-style creeping into unfriendly harbors. For all he knew, they might have actually done all those things, but his job was to perform assigned tasks in his own kingdom.
At length, he was honorably discharged and prospered with a job in the private sector.
Did that sailor serve his country? Absolutely.
Do we need young men to do so? Again, absolutely.
Will they spend a great deal of time bored? Yes, probably.
When it comes to a strong military presence, poised, ready, well-maintained, and serving as a deterrent to hostile enemy action, boring is good.
I don’t know if the kid ever read John Milton or not. Knowing him, my guess is not.
A perspective on service
“They also serve, who only stand and wait.”
So wrote John Milton, 17th century poet of Christian classic literature including the epic poem Paradise Lost. A prolific writer of things spiritual, at a point in his life he began to go blind. The self-doubt of the growing handicap afflicted him in proportion to his dimming vision, and he wrestled with how he could have any sort of literary impact if he could not see to write.
His life’s work was in jeopardy, and he was powerless to resist.
Milton’s poem On Blindness references his argument with God. In the short work he finally confesses that God does not actually need the poet’s help; God has other assets: “Thousands at his bidding speed...”
John Milton’s conclusion: If God wants me to remain on the sidelines, then that is how I shall serve Him. End of argument.
Hence: “They also serve, who only stand and wait.”
Service under arms
I would be quite surprised if most jobs in the uniformed services do not prove Milton’s description. Standing and waiting… probably a great deal of that has gone on since time immemorial, and does yet today.
I have no military service of my own, but I have found myself in a family where I have been surrounded by it:
Father, Navy
Father-in-law, Army
Brother, Air Force
Another Brother, Navy
Brother-in-Law, Army
Another Brother-in-Law, Army
Nephew, Navy
Son, Army
Another Son, Army
Another Nephew, Army
Niece, Army
This list spans the last 80 years, from February 1941 and continuing to the present day. With only a few gaps, the joined families of my wife and me have had someone in uniform continuously for 8 decades.
That is not an uncommon profile in America today. According to Pew Research in 2011, 60% of American families had a member of the immediate family in uniform. In 2023, just under 1% of Americans were at that time on active or reserve duty in the Armed Services.
Most, but by no means all, of the above list of our family members were never in actual combat. A few of them were, and those came home more or less in one piece, to not really ever talk about it much.
People sleep peaceably in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf. George Orwell
To those who have served in uniform, thank you. I generally sleep quite well, and you are a large part of the reason.
Thanks for following The Alligator Blog. Share the episode, preferably with a veteran, this weekend. See you next time.
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