REVEILLE, REVEILLE. ALL HANDS HEAVE OUT AND TRICE UP. THE SMOKING LAMP IS LIGHTED ON ALL WEATHER DECKS. REVEILLE………BREAKFAST FOR THE CREW.
“Sweepers, sweepers! Man your brooms!”
Alright, we have to get up and get ready for work, unless we were already up because we had the watch. If you were like me, you’d get the late night or very early morning morning watch which meant less sleep and more working hours.
If I were in my rack sleeping, I didn’t want to get up. There are about 100 reasons why I didn’t want to get up but mostly, I wasn’t looking forward to the day as it meant some kind of cleaning, scrubbing, swabbing, and sweeping would be taking place.
Out of bed and heading to the shower, I didn’t care about being ruffled up or being close-shaven to the point of having an id card dragged across my face. Yes, that was a thing, they’d take the id card and run it across your face to hear and feel the hair catch the card.
Sloppy sailor mustering amongst the other tired souls ready to disperse. Some to play spades, others to play euchre, and some to do the work of scrubbing, cleaning, and maintenance.
I didn’t earn a place on the 4th deck aft ship in the shop where the supervisors stayed and played all day. I had to work below starting in the morning by cleaning the engineering berthing.
Down the ladder well into my office, the berthing, the head, the floors, and the walls. It was my job to clean all of these areas but I was so very tired. I was tired from being at sea and tired of dealing with “Mouldy” from the Tennessee mountains. We were all blue and all together except for during normal conditions of every day when we were physically in the same gray metal box but separated by race and where we came from.
I was doing my relatively normal thing to do, which was hiding out from everyone and literally squeezing my small thin self between piping in the overhead to sleep. If I could find a good spot, they’d never see me and would look around for me somewhere else. I was a professional “skater” as they’d say at least at this particular time.
On this day, I couldn’t find a place to hide in the overhead as people were still in the berthing and I tried hiding behind some lockers on the floor. I was small and thin but I’d always work hard to be smaller. The expectation was that I was somewhere down there cleaning. DC1 Peavy was from somewhere in the south. He was raised by the navy and made his way up through the enlisted ranks to be a First Class Petty Officer! Not bad for a guy with a middle school education! He spoke with a heavy accent and he couldn’t say certain words. He studdered and stammered calling dust “blue tings and duss bunnies” to get “dem off da dect.”
His job this morning was to make sure that the berthing was clean and ready for inspection. He had to get all the low-class losers from the bowels of filth and heat to clean this place up. It had to be good nuff for leadership to come down and give it a pass. Most days, if I was hiding out, someone would find me right after the inspection. I was up with a rag in hand “Yeah Chief, just went over the mess decks to get more soap or something.” Not on this day, Peavy was looking for me. “Cohen… Cohen.. where you at”?
I heard him and I knew he’d be looking for me and I couldn’t risk a man overboard situation. If they couldn’t find me long enough they’d sound an alarm. This happened a few times and I’d always had a good reason that I was not easily findable at the moment.
I walked into the area where I heard him calling from and said “I am here DC1, what’s up”?
DC1 said, “Cohen, need you to clean the dect.” <– Yes that’s how it sounded.
me: “ok, what do you want me to do?”
He responded, “Go get a swab and swab dis dect.”
I said, “ok, I’ll do that.”
I walked into the “head” aka the bathroom and grabbed a mop. I brought the mop into the main area and said, “Ready to go.”
He exclaimed, “Where’s the bucket?”
I said, “Ohhhhhhh, yea I need that huh?” and so I went off and grabbed the bucket. I brought back an empty bucket and left the mop back where I found it.
“Cohen, where’s the swab?”
I said, “DC1, you told me to get the bucket so, I got it.”
He said, “Get yo swab and bring dat bucket up here wit it and we gotta get dis dect done.”
This went on for some time. I would bring the mop and bucket back and forth, empty, then full of cold water. I had hot water and no soap, and I had soap with no water. Needless to say, he was getting very upset.
Finally, after about 20 minutes, he had before him a bucket, a swab, hot soapy water, and a sailor to execute the task before him.
He said, “Now Cohen, you you gots to swab this dect from the end over here to the end by dis ladder and we… we gotta hurry because, they coming to inspect.”
I said “ok” and started putting water on the swab and making motions on the deck. Little sweeping motions, wide and straight, it was not looking good and the deck was getting soapy. He watched me for about two minutes and said “lemmie show you how to do it.”
I climbed up on the ladder and watched him swab the whole deck. I was so proud of myself for making him do it. After all, this was stupid and I had sleeping to do somewhere.
The deck was clean, the head was clean, the walls, the lockers, and all of the berthing were presentable. The Chief Engineer came down to inspect and all was well except for the fact that I didn’t help DC1.
The Navy was a lot of things, most complicated in that we had relationships with people that developed into a feeling of family. We had experienced pain, trauma, and being in a box with people that may hate us just for being born. Sometimes it was hard to know who to lash out at. As I said at the start of this post, I had problems with many people in my work area.
In some cases, there were people that made it all work almost effortlessly. One shipmate of mine went from a fireman to PO2 seemingly overnight. He later became an officer and made a career in the Navy. Many others I knew left as quickly as they could or were asked to leave for one reason or another. Still, these relationships are like tattoos on a person’s soul.
Repair 5 and T
I didn’t spend a lot of time thinking about Peavy’s feelings or my behavior at the time because the focus was on me. How did I feel? What was the Navy doing to me? Why I hated being there and what I would call “intentional misery.”
Intentional misery refers to the act of deliberately causing or perpetuating one's own suffering or discomfort. It is a concept often associated with self-sabotage or engaging in behaviors that knowingly lead to negative outcomes or emotional distress. Intentional misery can manifest in various ways, such as repeatedly engaging in harmful habits, maintaining toxic relationships, or actively seeking out situations that bring unhappiness. This behavior may stem from underlying psychological factors, a desire for attention or control, or a distorted belief that one deserves or is accustomed to suffering.
I had many reasons to be upset and I couldn’t see what making the best of things looked like at this moment.
We had an exercise or some kind of activity that pulled us over to the Repair 5 damage control locker. This is a space where we keep lifesaving and firefighting equipment for emergencies. Similar to what you see below but larger.
Peavy was working the locker, directing us on pulling equipment out and whatever was needed at the time. I knew I could confuse him and get him to become agitated quickly enough to tell me to leave. I started doing things wrong and creating chaos. DC1 Twyman was also there. We affectionately called him “T.” He was watching what was going on and pulled me out of the locker.
He said, “Cohen, is this really what you want to do?” I looked at him, and he put his hand on my shoulder and said “You are better than this, Peavy doesn’t deserve what you are doing and you need to think about who you are hurting.”
I really respected T and I thought about what he was saying to me. When he would talk to me, I always felt like he was loving. He went on to tell me Peavy worked hard over the past 20 years to get where he is a First Class Petty Officer, made something of himself and most of all that Peavy was not my enemy.
Peavy was upset, frustrated, and confused by my actions but at some point, he let this go and turned his attention to the matter at hand. It was for him about the task and his personal responsibility for the ship and the greater good. He knew that his part was important relative to the whole of the ship and he used this energy to accomplish the work. If he could lead us to this end, he did, for those who did not follow, he stopped wasting energy on them and moved on.
Sometimes, it was hard for me to see past my anger and frustration. I didn’t see what I was doing as important and I felt abused. Through “T” and a few others, I pulled it back together “regroup” and went back to help with good intentions. **Regrouping was a term that HT1 Pierson would use when teaching us to clean the slate and get back to focus.**
The Lesson
The Navy for me was a relatively short time in my life but there were some important moments and memories that I have reflected on and used to help shape myself as a person and a leader.
When I joined, I was just starting my journey to emerge from childhood. I didn’t know the world as Coop City was a bubble, a small town in a large city. The Navy was my first interaction with the world on my own. Race, religion, politics, and the realities of life and death came into view.
I was raised as a victim. I didn’t understand my part in taking responsibility. I also thought if something didn’t make sense to me that it didn’t make sense PERIOD.
Peavy, T, and HT1 Pierson taught me that I had to take pride in myself and responsibility to do what was required not because I understood it or not at the time but because I am a part of something bigger.
Since my time in the service, I have been Peavy many times. I have seen myself in others and I have swabbed the deck to get the work done.
The work was important even though I was blind as to why. I was taught to question everything but there is a time and place to question things. Sometimes, you need to just do what you need to do.
DC1 Peavy taught me to do what is required.
DC1 Twyman taught me that we can find loving and kind ways to work together despite our differences.
HT1 Pierson taught me to “regroup” and pull myself together when the world seems to be falling apart.
All three of these men were young black men from the South.
When I think about what I have gained through diversity of thought, culture, and personal history, this memory comes to mind.
Now, go swab the deck… shipmate!