The Missile and the Man in the Yellow Pants

Recently my ship completed Bravo Sea Trials.  During this trial, the ship tests its weapon and combat systems, including two live missile shoots.  As the senior department head on board, I was appointed to stand watch as the Tactical Action Officer.  The reasoning being that as the senior person, I was the most experienced and competent watch stander.

This was, of course, somewhat in error as I have barely stood any TAO watches on a ship underway (see previous tour as a Chief Engineer on a ship in drydock...).  And I DEFINITELY had not shot any missiles.

But as any SWO, I can run a mean checklist.

This was my first Bravo Sea Trials, and as I learned, it basically means that the ship takes on so many people that the shipbuilder has to install a ton of temporary racks.  There's just enough ship's actual crew to actually shoot ordnance (missiles, five inch gun, CIWS, SRBOC), but not enough that the CO warrants actually being able to stay in either of his staterooms.  It also means that when you are in the middle of the "big" event, there are nearly twice as many people in CIC as there would normally be.  Turns out that I am generally pretty good at ignoring crowds.

Most people, especially on my crew, view me as a pretty friendly officer who rarely curses and even more infrequently raises my voice.  I'm seen as a very patient individual who prides themselves on remaining calm and professional.

Turns out that I am way more impatient on watch.

Our first missile shot was textbook perfect with the watch team performing even better than we had practiced.  However, during the second missile shot due to events beyond our control, we were on a much more abbreviated timeline.  Basically, the aircraft who was supporting the second missile shot would only be able to support us for about 30 minutes.  That meant we had to run through our checklists, which were designed to take about an hour, much faster.  The watch team continued to prove how awesome they were until I reached the step where we visually clear the missile decks.  Using the camera in CIC, I panned around the missile deck to discover three personnel were standing near the aft launcher.  They were all civilians.

"Bridge, TAO, request you pass the word 'Expedite clearing the missile decks.'"

We watch as the three men look up as the word passes over the 1MC and then continue standing there, just chatting.  They didn't move.  I look down at my clock as I watch more seconds tick by.  There is no way I am about to lose the chance to shoot this second missile because these three dudes were just going to stand there, ignoring the 1MC.  But I'm also stuck in CIC so it's not like I am going to storm the missile decks to personally escort them off.

"1MC!" I shouted in CIC, not even rising from my seat, and just lifting my right hand.  I am not even sure who of the forty people standing behind me passes me the 1MC microphone, but someone does.  I key the mic, "EXPEDITE CLEARING THE MISSILE DECK...  I AM TALKING TO YOU, MAN IN THE YELLOW PANTS!"

As I watch each of the three men in the camera first look up as they listen to the word and then immediately down to their pants, my XO explains over our internal net, "They're fixing the lifelines."

My immediate response over the internal net, "They have to be standing near the lifelines to be fixing them!"

The bridge attempted no further justification.

The three men, including the one in the conspicuously colored yellow pants, now realized they were on a camera so began to search for the camera until they found it.  After making several ridiculous faces, they eventually fixed the lifelines and then got off the missile deck.  I only debated calling them back on the 1MC four more times during this period that seemed to go on forever.

We got the second missile off in time.  The most amazing part though was the fact that no one laughed or said anything in CIC during the entire period, though I did gain the moniker of "Missile Lady" among the yard workers.  And the man in the yellow pants has managed to elude me ever since then.

The Tiny Ninjas Melt My Heart

There are plenty of moments where you know you have failed as a parent (Hello, four year old daughter who still crawls into my bed in the middle of the night!  Or completely losing my sh*t if my children attempt to wake me before 8 on a Saturday morning.)  But every once in a while, something happens that reminds me that we not an epic failures as parents.

That was this last Saturday.

Our kids had entered a local Ninja competition at the Maine Warrior Gym.  Owen has become obsessed with the show and when we discovered a gym that was a "mere" 40 minute drive away, we have been taking them at every opportunity.  It turns out that both of our kids are naturally athletic and strangely perfectionist about obstacles.  I've watched both of my kids practice doing the rings for nearly 30 minutes straight until they have proven they can do them flawlessly.  Being the somewhat Tiger parents that we are, we had taken them to the gym once a week for nearly six weeks leading up to the competition, on top of the impromptu training sessions at the local playgrounds, doorways, staircases, and whatever climbing opportunity the kids could find.  And despite the fact the coaches at the gym loved our kids and thought they were really good, we were naturally worried.  What would happen if our kids didn't win something that they had been practicing for months?  Or even worse, what would happen if one of them placed but the other didn't?  You have to remember that our kids take after us and are naturally tiny.  They looked even tinier competing against the other kids, even in their 5-6 year old age bracket.  (I swear, there was this one kid who looked like he was 8.)  Anduin especially looked tiny since she's actually only 4 and technically, she's not supposed to be on the equipment by herself.

Then it happened.  Anduin placed third among the girls.  Owen placed fourth and missed the podium by a tiny .4 seconds among the boys.  Niles and I braced ourselves for tears from Owen as he watched his sister stand on the podium and receive her bronze medal.

Instead, Owen cheered extremely loudly for his sister and gave her a huge hug.

*heart melting*

And then Anduin removed her medal, put it around Owen's neck, and said, "Owen, I want to share my medal with you since you helped me train."

*heart in a tiny puddle*

Yes!  We did something right.