On completing Officer Candidate School I joined the rest of my graduating company in applying for open billets around the country – hoping for the best, but not really expecting much. I was delighted when my orders came through: assignment to Port Safety School in Virginia for further transfer to Base San Juan, Puerto Rico. I didn’t know what my job would be but who cared? Tropical beaches…palm trees swaying in the breeze. I was going to Puerto Rico! And Port Safety School would provide a highly desirable professional qualification to launch my career in the service. As a shiny new ensign out to make my mark, I threw myself into the school with all the energy I could muster.

One morning my second week in the program, the commandant rushed into the classroom and called me out: “Mr. Finch, there has been a terrible mistake! You are not supposed to be here. I have a priority message from San Juan ordering you to report there immediately. You are on a plane this afternoon. Your training is ended; pack your gear and ship out!”

It was all so dramatic. 24 hours later I reported for my first professional assignment, all spit & polish, excited about the urgent assignment waiting for me.

I was dumbstruck to find that no one even knew I was coming. Then truth began to emerge. It was the personnel officer who, unbeknownst to anyone (including the skipper), had me yanked out of Port Safety School. A junior officer billet was coming open in the Port Safety Office and he wanted it for himself. He saw his chances fading if a new reporting ensign (me) had already been to Port Safety School. So he took the initiative and got me pulled out.

He assigned me to work under him for a few weeks while I learned the job, then transferred himself to the choice billet. I was left as principal caretaker for 250 cantankerous men at 10 duty stations around the islands. He was entirely up front about the stunt he pulled. “That’s how the game is played. Go find and groom your own replacement. Get an ensign out of the next OCS class. Fight for yourself. Chop, chop, chop!”

I could see the man’s logic, but somehow sticking it to the next guy just wasn’t “me.” I decided I would try not retaliating. I waded into the job and tried to make the best of it.

Personnel officer was the toughest, most thankless job I have ever had – a relentless grind of 16-hour days, plus a 24-hour duty shift every 4-5 days; "supervising" a bunch of senior petty officers who knew 10 times as much as I did about the job; my desk the repository for any job no one else wanted; every decision second-guessed by more senior officers. Monday morning staff meetings were known as “harpoon sessions.” Guess who stopped the most harpoons with his chest…

The place was not so much dysfunctional as near chaotic, despite the high ideals and leadership principles espoused within the service and the highly evolved administrative and operational system by which it ran.

The Captain, bucking for admiral, demanded perfection from everybody (ergo the “harpoon sessions”). The first XO, nearing retirement, was absent most days (flying his seaplane around the tropic isles). The base EO, a sad and lonely alcoholic, had been passed over for promotion. And the successor CO – covering his own rear – tagged the new base Ops officer with a poor fitness report for irregularities that occurred before he had even reported into the unit. The place was remorselessly Darwinian. McHale’s Navy with teeth.

To be honest, I made mistakes – some of them pretty embarrassing to my superiors. Most of my errors combined ignorance of how the organization was supposed to work with well-meaning attempts to accommodate someone with a problem. And, okay, some of my mistakes were just plain dumb.

I learned I reallydidn’t like getting chewed out – the avoidance of which became a primary motivation for doing my job. This was a long way from the dream I had when I enrolled at Officer Candidate School…

I struggled to figure out an effective philosophy of management that served the unit without completely compromising my ideals. I could see the usefulness of a chain of command, giving & following lawful orders as given, etc. But I was a lot closer in age and spirit to the young enlisted men who were at the bottom of the pecking order with no right of redress. I experimented with “being nice,” staying after hours to conduct performance reviews & career counseling when men came off shift. The chief petty officers said I was nuts for putting myself out that way. “Let them come in on their off-duty hours, not yours. You outrank them.” I had to admit being nice didn’t do much for me. It just meant everybody with a gripe came to me because I would listen.

On the other hand, when I lost my temper and chewed out a particularly obnoxious goof-off, it brought him and everybody else to attention right quick. So that “worked” but it still didn’t feel right. Sometimes I drove off the base in the evening, leaned out the window of my car and just screamed (at those palm trees gently swaying in the tropic breeze).

One day, I stumbled on a passage in the Bible that put my struggle in perspective. It talked about two opposing philosophies by which to live, one of them peaceable and gentle, the other ruthless and turbulent. It brought home what I was experiencing on a daily basis:

Who is wise and understanding among you? Let him show it by his good life, by deeds done in the humility that comes from wisdom. But if you harbor bitter envy and selfish ambition in your hearts, do not boast about it or deny the truth. Such “wisdom” does not come down from heaven but is earthly, unspiritual, of the devil. For where you have envy and selfish ambition, there you find disorder and every evil practice.

But the wisdom that comes from heaven is first of all pure; then peace-loving, considerate, submissive, full of mercy and good fruit, impartial and sincere. Peacemakers who sow in peace raise a harvest of righteousness.

— James 3:13-18 [New International Version]

This passage was a revelation to me. It confirmed that there really are two diametrically opposed approaches to dealing with people and that one of them is decidedly preferable for someone trying to operate from a biblical worldview.

This insight did not solve anything, but it was reassuring to find out the tension between these two styles has gone on for at least a couple of millennia. However painful the struggle, at least I was in good company in my quest to do the right thing. I found courage in that realization.

Within two years I left San Juan. You won’t be surprised if I say the in-depth administrative and people skills I acquired there proved to be the most useful lifetime skills I could have hoped for. It’s nothing I would want to repeat mind you, but I can’t overstate the value of the lessons learned. On top of which I managed to get out and enjoy the Caribbean and even carved out time to attend Port Safety School – all without victimizing the next guy.