On June 17th, 2017 while living abroad in Yokosuka, Japan, I bore witness to the aftermath of one of the worst Naval accidents in modern times. The USS Fitzgerald collided with a container ship off the coast of Japan.
When news of the accident reached our tiny base, a swift eerie silence set over our community. We were paralyzed by anticipation as we awaited word on the condition of the ship, sailors, and the capacity for our base to handle the trauma that was about to unfold.
The silence on base was broken by the sounds of helicopters bringing the severely wounded back to base. That sound seemed to have snapped us into our new reality. Our community was all hands and ready to help.
Medical personnel were ready and waiting for the ambulances carrying the injured to the Naval Hospital.
Sailors prepared to relieve the tired sailors that fought the ship home.
Chaplains were organizing themselves to assist the families through this tragedy.
A volunteer call center was created in order to disseminate information and how to get official word to the families of those aboard the Fitz.
Military spouses flooded the USO, the American Red Cross (AR) and the Naval Marine Corps Relief Society (NMCRS) offering assistance in any manner.
As a military spouse, that time was a very proud yet disturbing moment for me.
I can go into specifics on how we banded together, how we made sure every sailor had his/her uniform ready to go for the memorial services of the fallen, how we all kept our heads down every time a reporter approached us off base, how we took care of the grieving, how we took care of each other in a less than optimal situation. I could speak on the specifics of spouses of every rank coming together to ensure our community was going to make it through. But, THIS, this is not that article.
This is about a military spouse’s role, voice, or ability to advocate for their sailor. What agency do we have, when we as spouses know something is not normal?
The tempo for the fleet in Yokosuka is not okay, nor should it ever be at any point for anyone working around that much machinery.
The systems, both human and mechanical, on those ships rely on one another to function appropriately, but when those systems are not able to come in for maintenance, training, or rest in the time allotted by the Navy, we have to come to terms with the fact that the Navy is responsible for creating instability in our fleet. The Navy is setting up our sailors to fail, or worse, to get hurt or killed.
After the news broke of the Fitz collision, it most definitely was a shock, but there was no question of ‘How’ this could have happened. The response was more of a “Shit, it finally happened.”
This catastrophe did not come as a surprise. Don’t get me wrong, it was devastation to our community, but a surprise it was not. I believe I speak for many people who have experienced the demands of the tempo in Yokosuka, when I say that this tragedy was never a question of “if” this could happen it was “when” it would happen. And it did. If finally happened.
I remember watching the admiral giving a press briefing shortly after the Fitz made its way back home and a reporter asking, “We are hearing from families that sailors are not getting enough rest, they are undermanned, and under trained, their equipment is not working or faulty can you comment on this?”
I remember thinking, “YES!! Finally, let us bring these issues to light and discuss them.” Instead, the Admiral did not acknowledge any of those statements and insisted that the sailors were not at all tired. I understand that the role of the admiral is to convince the world of the fleet’s readiness, but for once I was hoping that our dirty laundry could be aired so that maybe there could be change.
As military spouses we are expected to keep a stiff upper lip, a stoic silence, an apathy toward the work schedules our spouses keep.
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