I’ll be the first person to admit that of all the things I encountered in the navy, the PRT (Physical Readiness Test) was my least favorite thing.

I can imagine there are a lot more like me out there.

Let me explain.

From the day you join any of our armed services, they start breaking you down from your old self. Part of that is to get rid of your civilian habits which might interfere with good order and discipline. But part of that was to make sure that we have a single standard for physical fitness. Not everyone who comes into the military had a sports background. Many of the sailors for instance were recruited for highly technical skilled occupations that required thinkers. While there are crossovers, the athletic types are often recruited by colleges which offer a less invasive lifestyle. So just to make sure the military has well rounded candidates, they assume everyone needs some tuning up as they get ready to serve their various services.

There are some interesting dichotomies, however.

While they want you to get in better physical shape, they also give you some great food with hardly any limits. The saying over the galley window is very clear. Take all you want but eat all you take.

When you are eighteen and some senior petty officer is running your ass all over the parade grinder, you can work up a massive hanger. The irregular sleep patterns from standing watches at night then getting up at zero dark thirty for more running can also stimulate a powerful appetite. The other added dimension is that you only have a short time to eat, so you learn to eat quickly and without much thought. It could be a long afternoon before you eat again so you forgo any thoughts of careful or selective eating.

This “training” is reinforced day after day for eight or more weeks. (My bootcamp went about fourteen weeks since in our era, the Vietnam War was still going, and I volunteered for the band.) At the end of boot camp, all of us went separate directions to schools or to the fleet depending on the needs of the navy. In my case, I would go from school to school for the next year before hitting my first submarine. In ever school, we were issued Chow Cards which allowed us to hit the Mess Hall and again load up out trays with as much as we felt we could consume. But the schools had no formal exercise requirements at that time and the days of burning off the excess calories were in the rear-view mirror. I forced myself to stay active but definitely not at the same level as boot camp. My initial uniforms star4ted to shrink a bit.  As a nineteen-year-old, it wasn’t too bad yet. But the years to come would provide a never-ending challenge to balance intake and exercise.

The best food in the navy

As I got older and higher in rank, that challenge would really kick in. Since I was mostly assigned to submarines, the job required some physical activity, but the opportunities were limited. Fast attacks were designed to be compact and most of the space was dedicated to the propulsion related machinery. If you happened to be a technician, your watch station required you to sit in a chair and stare at your machines. The idea of running anywhere was limited to drills and even then, you didn’t have far to run. Plus, submarine food was the very best food in the entire navy. Since the early days, submariners were spoiled with the best cooks, best quality of food, and hardly any limits. I can remember the days of steak and lobster, endless rounds of fried shrimp, butter by the bucket and on and on. Fresh baked bread and cinnamon rolls, ice cream and cakes and some of the finest roast beef in the world.

I will always remember Big John

He was a nice guy, but he was already pretty large by the time he got to the boat. We were always a little shorthanded, so no one gave a second thought to welcoming a new shipmate on board. John loved to eat. I mean we all loved to eat, but he made it into a religious experience of sorts. It was fun to watch him make various combinations and pile them high on his plate. The service was family style so there had to be multiple runs to the galley window to keep up with John. He would make roast beef and mash potato mountains just to see how high he could stack them before they toppled over in the lakes of gravy. The poopie suits we had at that time had elastic waists. The waists were about nine inches from belly to waist. By the end of patrol, John’s were extended to the bursting point. As we finished the patrol, we had to switch over to dungarees. To say that John struggle to close the button at the waist would be an understatement. Plus, he was assigned to be the first topside watch once we tied up next to the tender. The topside watch was issued a duty web belt with a 45-caliber pistol in a holster. John climbed up the ladder and got to the hatch opening. That is all the farther he went. He wedged himself into the opening and the belt and holster sealed his fate. The Chief of the Boat was not amused. There were a few fragrant words issued, and Big John was placed on an instant program to lose weight.

You see, one of the things about the navy and its vessels is that there are many smaller openings that sailors will have to pass through from time to time.

They are designed that way to make sure that in case of a casualty, the small opening will minimize the damage to what is on the other side. Add to that fact the need for sailors to put on damage control equipment or clothing and pass through the hatches. We were pretty minimalist in my early boats but as the years progresses and damage control methods improved, more protective outfits added bulk to the damage control teams. The added bulk put more burdens on the sailors physically as well. Wearing that gear in a compartment where ventilation was turned off to aid in fighting the casualty made it physically demanding to keep up. The heat would sap the unprepared of their strength and endurance. Having unfit sailors could potentially create additional casualties. That would place an even larger burden to the whole team who now might face a compound casualty caused by a sailor incapacitated in a tight space.

The Hardest part of my career

I spent four years on the USS San Francisco and the last year was a pretty sedentary time frame. I had qualified as a Chief of the Watch and was the Command Career Counselor.  Not too bad for a second class. But my physical activity was definitely diminished and i got a bit overweight. Wait a minute. I was fat and did not meet even the minimum standards of the navy. I was promoted to first class despite that and sent to my next command, the USS Ohio.

The Ohio had an actual doctor on board and this guy was very strict about physical fitness. He took the infamous tape measure to me and to no one’s surprise, I was in Big John’s category. I was more than ashamed at that point and made a promise that before the patrol was over, I would lose enough weight that I could get off the program. Fortunately, the Ohio had a mini gym in the missile compartment, and you could actually run in the walkways around the tubes. Plus, I limited my food and drank nothing but unsweetened iced tea for months.

When we finished patrol, the wives were bussed down to the boat, I came off the brow to look for Debbie. I saw her and she was looking past me for her husband. I had lost over fifty pounds, and she did not recognize me. We had a pretty good homecoming. That’s all you need to know.

Today’s navy

I have been watching the news a lot recently and enjoyed watching the various fleet week celebrations.

But one trend I have been seeing really concerns me. We have a lot of really fat sailors. I’m sure the camera adds some weight, but seriously, how large do some of those uniforms have to be now? In our rush to be inclusive, I am pretty sure the standards have hit rock bottom. This kinder gentler navy is going to get people killed. Unless by some miracle of invention the ships suddenly have barn doors where hatches once rule, some of these sailors are not going to be useful when the missiles start landing. They will be casualties and will get others killed. I sincerely apologize to the sailors who stay fit and stay motivated. I have also seen you and really appreciate you. This is focused on the ones who have been given a pass and have not been held accountable.

I am an older man now and have lost some of my body tone. But I try my best to get some physical exercise every week.  I wish more of our less motivated sailors would follow suit. My hope is that with the change in the administration and the focus on war fighting rather than DEI, the problem will work itself out. For the sake of the individuals involved and the sake of the country, maybe the next generation will make that a priority. I would hate to think we might not have another 250 years if we don’t.

Mister Mac