Diaries of an Electrician

EM A-School

          I enlisted in the United States Navy with a contract that would allow me to learn some type of electrical. They offered me three choices. My first choice was to be a construction electrician (CE) with the Seabees (they’re the tough guys that are on the front lines setting up housing just after the marines clear the area). My second choice was for interior communications (IC), and third choice was general shipboard electrical (EM). Needless to say, the Navy decided I should go with my third choice and become an Electricians Mate.

            The next step would be my education. Since I had boot camp in San Diego, and the electrical school was in the same area, one would think I would travel 1/2 mile for my schooling. Instead the Navy felt it best that I move across the country to a base at Great Lakes, Illinois. It was February and I traded a beautiful sunny climate for three feet of snow.

            While I was there, I clowned around a lot and just barely got by with passing grades. What did it matter? I figured eventually I would be sent to a ship somewhere in the ocean—no big deal. After my fourth week, I missed a passing grade of 70% by one percent. I still had eight more weeks of electrical training before final graduation from electrical A-school and assumed I would be able to continue with my nonchalant attitude. The head of the school had another idea. He sat me down and expressed in no uncertain terms that if I didn’t bring up my score in the future I would be chipping paint…not as an electrician, but as a “monkey mate.” Translation: “Your rate will be changed to a boatswains mate”(the janitors of the navy...a vital yet unappetizing prospect for me).  To ensure I passed the exam the following week, I was ordered to take on the additional night class. It was available for the slower learners and careless individuals such as me.    

            I got the message. Needless to say my enthusiasm to pay more attention escalated tenfold. After my little encouragement speech, I vowed that my fifth week would be different. I studied harder during the eight hour classes and spent another two hours an evening at the night class. At the end of the week I passed the test. But not only did I pass the test, I scored a 94%. By passing in the 90 percentile, I was permitted to leave the classroom early.  Why you ask? At the end of the week the men have to clean up the room...sweep up, mop the floors...general cleaning.  However, those who ranked in the 90 percentile weren’t required to do those chores. 

            When the teacher read the names of the men who could leave, everyone in the class knew it would be the usual distinguished intellectuals. After a couple of the regular nerds were announced, my name was read aloud too. Yes MY name.  Everyone in the room was shocked.  Even the teacher had to look at the score again. I tried to look casual about it, shrugging my shoulders as if it was nothing special. I walked out the door and accepted my new role as a smart guy. It’s very odd to hold the baton of idiot one week and be handed the baton of genius the next.

            Every week after that, I and one other Nigerian were known as the two top scorers in the class. The guys would crowd around the Nigerian and I to ask how we answered the questions. The Nigerian and I seemed to accept one another on an equal basis and exchanged a few words about a certain question that could have gone one way or another. Then we assumed our roles as tutors guiding the others on where they blew it or not.           

            I learned some hard lessons. Living a casual lifestyle is a careless way to operate in the world. A little hard work can eventually provide benefits and earn assurances for respect. Proof was when our next duty station was given to us. Most of the guys were selected for jobs on an aircraft carrier with 5000 other guys, but I was ordered to a Destroyer Escort or Frigate (back in San Diego)—a sleek antisubmarine vessel with a compliment of 250 men. I had a job with a lot of variety and a place to learn every man’s name. It wasn’t all roses; in fact, duty on a smaller vessel is hard work. But I have to thank God for the failure of week four and the Navy’s foresight. If it weren’t for that kick in the butt, I would have wasted my talent and not had the opportunity to help save the lives of my comrades…but that’s another story.