Assigned to Naval Special Warfare Development Group (NSWDG), Senior Chief Petty Officer Nathan H. Hardy, twenty-nine, of Durham, New Hampshire, was killed in Iraq in February 2008 while on his fourth deployment in the Global War on Terror. Buried in Arlington National Cemetery with full military honors, Senior Chief Hardy left behind his wife, Mindi, and a seven-month-old son, Parker.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Officer Candidate School
Patience and perseverance have a magical effect before which difficulties disappear and obstacles vanish.
The Power of Persistence
O
fficer Candidate School (OCS) is one of three ways a civilian can become a naval officer. The first is by graduating from the U.S. Naval Academy in Annapolis and the second is by graduating from a Naval Reserve Officers Training Corps (NROTC) program. OCS is a twelve-week course designed to provide candidates with a working knowledge of the Navy both afloat and ashore, prepare them to assume the duties of a naval officer, and help them reach their fullest potential by intensive immersion in leadership, physical, and military training and academics.
As a member of Captain Bisset’s RDAC program, Michael was invited to participate in the annual program/demonstration on the flight deck of the USS
Intrepid
(CVS-11), a decommissioned
Essex
-class aircraft carrier.
Intrepid
participated in the Pacific theater of operations during World War II and in the Vietnam War. Since 1982,
Intrepid
has been part of the Intrepid Sea, Air & Space Museum, located at New York City’s Pier 86. In early June 2000, Michael arrived at the
Intrepid.
Following the program and demonstration, Rear Admiral Thomas Steffens, serving as the chief of staff at the U.S. Special Operations Command, located at MacDill Air Force Base in Tampa, Florida, administered the oath to the newly enlisted members of the U.S. Navy. As his SEAL mentor, Captain Bisset, watched as Michael Murphy raised his right hand and repeated his oath of enlistment, thereby making him a member of the Navy.
Over the next couple of months, Bisset helped prepare Michael for the rigors of OCS. In addition to maintaining his physical training regimen, Michael
continued to work as lifeguard and as a plumber’s assistant while he waited to begin his naval career.
Naval Air Station, Pensacola, Florida
Michael reported to the naval air station (NAS) in Pensacola, Florida, on a sunny September Saturday in 2000. It was the beginning of another step in his journey to become an elite warrior—a U.S. Navy SEAL.
Michael checked in with base security. OCS is a military training center. It is designed to make candidates consider and then reconsider their choices and then reconcile those choices with their goals. At OCS, if you believe that you want to be a naval officer, it will become more apparent with each passing day. If you don’t, that will become equally obvious. Michael was well aware that his personal honor, courage, and commitment would be tested and challenged to live up to the highest standards. Having done his research, and having talked extensively with OCS graduates, he knew that the hardest thing to learn was that at OCS, everything is regimented. Everything he did would be dictated by a candidate officer, a drill instructor, or OCS regulations, which he was expected to know completely. Michael got his orders stamped and met with a candidate officer, who told him about the procedure for the next day.
Indoctrination Week
The next day, Michael reported as ordered, and was met by a different candidate officer. Life for Michael was about to change. He was given his room, which was called a “space,” and a small notebook and pen for recording “gouge,” or information he would be required to know. The four main initial pieces of gouge are the Code of Conduct, the General Orders of a Sentry, the chain of command, and the rank structure and insignia of the Navy and Marine Corps. This information must be memorized verbatim and is essential for the candidate to successful complete the fourth-week inspection. From the moment he checked in Michael was deliberately placed under stress, often by many people at the same time, and disciplined for failing to do things that were impossible to do. He did not take it personally, because he understood four important things.
1. Fear is used to teach. In only twelve weeks, a significant amount of material must be learned; the use of fear facilitates this.
2. Fear strengthens, both physically and mentally. Since fear comes from the unknown, after a few weeks at OCS, fear is replaced by routine. In most cases OCS will be the most strenuous part of the candidate’s naval career. However, this will not be the case for Michael.
3. Individuals must be broken down before they can be built into a team. Everyone must be at the same level.
4. All candidates get their head shaved and wear the same clothes, and everyone is punished when one of them makes a mistake.
The first week of training is known as Indoctrination and has several objectives:
1. To prepare candidates for the next twelve weeks of training. Basic marching, facing movements, military bearing, and gouging are taught.
2. To prepare candidates for the first meeting with the class drill instructor. Candidate officers, known as Candi-Os, lead class members from check-in until the class in which drill instructor and chief petty officer are introduced.
3. To complete all preliminary administrative work, including the Naval Operational Medicine Institute (NOMI), Personnel Support Detachment (PSD), book bag issue, and Navy Exchange.
4. To introduce the candidates to their class officer.
Michael received his military haircut on Tuesday. The OCS barbers were extremely proficient in hairstyling—as long as the style was a shaved head. On Wednesday his class met its drill instructor, class chief petty officer, and class officer. Also on Wednesday and again on Thursday, class members were occupied with medical examinations, uniform issue, and their Indoctrination Physical Readiness Test. On Saturday the class began physical training (PT). Thursday, Friday, and Saturday of Indoctrination are the most brutal for those at OCS.
From the minute he arrived, Michael stood or sat at attention with the familiar “thousand-yard stare.” When standing or sitting, his feet were always at a precise forty-five-degree angle with his head and eyes straight ahead. At the position of attention, his hands were clasped into tight fists with thumbs along the trouser seam. While walking in buildings, his right shoulder remained four inches from the wall, known as the “bulkhead,” at all times. As he approached a candidate officer or class drill instructor he had to “brace the bulkhead,” positioning himself with his back and heels four inches from the wall, and give the greeting of the day. His communications had to be precise and given “ballistically,” which meant that he shouted them with authority and conviction. There were only five appropriate statements or responses. To speak, he first had to request and receive permission. To answer a question, he had to say either “Yes, sir” or “No, sir.” To respond to a command or order, he had to say “Aye, sir.” If asked a question to which he did not know the answer, he had to respond, “Sir, this Indoctrination candidate does not know but will find out.” His every action was scrutinized and any shortcoming was immediately and rigorously corrected. He understood and respected the strict Code of Honor. OCS is more a mental rather than a physical environment. His biggest enemy was time, as there never seemed to be enough to accomplish all that was demanded.
During Indoctrination it was critical that Michael and his classmates remained focused and not allow the drill instructors to get to them—which clearly was their intent. Each day was another day closer to graduation. The most stressful time for Indoctrination officer candidates was during meals. There is a strict procedure for entering, sitting, eating, and departing. To prepare the candidates for drill and to learn strict attention to detail, Michael and his class were taught chow hall procedures.
After chow hall procedures, the biggest stressor was standing watch. Here the candidates had be attentive to everything that was occurring at their station and salute all officers.
Week Two
On Monday of week two the class experienced its first PT session, followed by a two-mile run. Academic classes followed, with courses in personnel administration and naval history. All classes were given extremely fast and required a significant amount of memorization and word recognition. Tests were multiple-choice, with the first one given on Wednesday, two days after classes had begun, and final exams on Friday.
During this period, the candidates also began to receive basic military instruction, with an emphasis on military customs and courtesies, uniform assembly and requirements, inspection procedures, and training requirements. Rifle drills, conducted every afternoon from the second through the seventh week, taught the class discipline and how to obey orders, and also bonded the class and the drill instructor.
As the class settled into a routine, Michael and the other candidates endured long runs in the early morning, followed by classes until afternoon rifle drill. Breakfast and lunch were at predetermined times. After the evening meal the class was given thirty minutes of free time before the mandatory two-hour study period, which was followed by job assignments. “Taps” was played exactly at 10:00 PM, after which the drill instructors inspected the barracks for thirty minutes.
On Tuesday of the second week, Michael was given his initial swim test, which consisted of swimming twenty-five yards across the pool while performing the backstroke, the sidestroke, the breaststroke, and the American crawl.
Week Three
At this point, the pace of the program increased. They were given an average of two examinations and there was a personnel inspection (PI) every Monday. The candidates also prepared for the military training tests (MTTs), which consisted
of room and locker and personnel inspections that were coming up the following week. The candidates’ academic workload included training in navigational techniques. They studied dead reckoning, coastal piloting, rules of the road, and electronic navigation, and were required to plot simulated movements and positions of a ship at sea.
Week 4
On Wednesday the first MTT was given, with a required score of 85. The MTT was a unique experience, one best explained in the following excerpt from an article that appeared in the May 30, 1994, issue of the
Navy Times
and was written by Patrick Pexton.
The 34 Candidates dressed in well-pressed summer whites—seven others have already dropped out—are a diverse lot. They are black, brown, yellow, white, male and female, nuke and aviation, surface and unrestricted line. But they share one thing in common today.
They are all hating life.
Young men and women graduates from Harvard, Penn and state universities around the country, who weeks earlier were living carefree lives of students, stayed up until 3:00 AM last night polishing brass belt buckles until they reflected like mirrors.
They slept on the hard linoleum floor so their bunks would be pristine and wrinkle-free for the morning inspection. Like alchemists, they experimented with novel ways to prevent ancient, rusting waste cans from flaking onto the floor when the Drill Instructors pound on them during inspection. They did the same with what looked to be about 40-year-old brown leather book bags, which are cracked and worn with age.
The DIs enter the four-bunk rooms to smooth beds, clean weapons, and orderly lockers. When they end the inspection for each room precisely eight minutes later, slamming the door behind them, they leave behind a tornado-like path of destruction.
Candidates are left standing at attention, but looking disheveled and demoralized. Their pants pockets are pulled inside out, their belts unceremoniously ripped from their waists and lying on the floor, their voices hoarse from shouting rapidfire responses to the demanding DIs.
Towels that were folded with precision and freshly shined shoes that were placed in straight, ordered rows are strewn about the room. Carefully ironed uniforms are pulled off their hangers in piles. The bunks, so perfectly made, with the pillow an exact 12 inches from the foldover of the sheet, are a wreck.
And the gunnery sergeants are just warming up.
The only defense to such a strategy was confidence, a loud voice, and the clock.
Weeks 5-6
Rifle drill was the main focus during this period. On the Thursday of week five, the final swim test, known as the third class swim, was held. This consisted of jumping from the ten-meter platform, swimming the length of the pool and back, treading water for one minute, and survival floating for five minutes.
Academic classes and tests were given in naval warfare, military law, engineering, and damage control. The good study skills Michael learned at Penn State proved essential here. He understood that academics were designed for stress as well as knowledge. Individuality was not tolerated at OCS; teamwork was the essential key to success.
The military training at Officer Candidate School comprised four broad categories.
Physical training.
There were three Physical Fitness Assessments (PFA) at OCS: the Indoctrination PFA, the Mid-PFA, and the Out-PFA. Passing requirements were Satisfactory-Medium for the IN-PFA, Satisfactory-High for the Mid-PFA, and Good-Low for the Out-PFA.
Room and locker inspection (RLI).
A candidate’s room was subject to inspection at any time. To ensure cleanliness and to maintain standards, room inspections occurred at regular intervals in lieu of zone inspections. Rooms were to be maintained in accordance with the daily room standards. Racks were to be made between 5:00 AM and 10:00 PM.