Why is Craig aka Mav ironic to this blog? Well, as mentioned previously on this blog it was the watershed movie Top Gun that may have been the catalyst for my entry into the Navy. Could I have been so shallow that a single movie could set my course for the rest of my life? Well, as mentioned, rock stardom was not panning out, I was not "college material", so what else was left?
Well, it wasn't really that simple - nothing ever is. There was first the heart-wrenching period self-evaluation, being told by all your friends that you're crazy, your Mom pleading with you to "please go to college, I'll pay." But in the end it was Dear Dad's voice of reason that helped pave the way. My dad is a 2nd generation career Navy man. Dad loved the Navy. In fact, I spent the first two-thirds of my young life as a Navy brat. Hell, I loved the Navy also in retrospect. It did NOT suck to grow up in Wahiawa, Hawaii; San Diego, California; and Pensacola, Florida.
It almost didn't happen, though. Let me elaborate: I first took my ASVAB test, which is the entrance exam for getting into the military. I got a perfect score... perfect score. Oh, my recruiter was drooling at that point and wanted to immediately test me for the Nuclear Program. Recruiters get a toaster or a free case of smokes or some such shit when they hook up a "Nuke" - the most coveted of Navy positions. I had no interest in Nukes, though. I wanted to work on jet fighters because I figured if I couldn't be a rock star, then being a Top Gun was not a bad second choice. My scores were well above that needed to work on jet fighters, so I got all the paperwork arranged for Aviation Fire Control Technician or some such thing.
Well, a funny thing happened on the way to the Navy. At the local MEPS station (Military Entrance Processing Station) the Government discovered that I was color blind. Having a color blind guy working on your 30 million dollar jet probably doesn't do much for a pilot's confidence. As a result, there were no more electronics careers available, no nuke positions available - no boats, no goats, no motor cars, not a single luxury. That day in desperation the Navy offered me such scintillating options as "Yeoman", "Mess Specialist" (aka: Cook), and I think Boatswain's Mate. When I said I wanted to work on jets, the recruiter actually said this: "Well son, as a Mess Specialist, you can still watch the planes fly overhead." This did not sound much of an Adventure to me. Sounded more like a Job (and if you get that play on words then bonus points for you).
Before I forget, I must first RANT: I cannot go any further in my story without ridiculing my parents for a moment. I always tell Dad when I'm going to ridicule him in my blog - he has thick skin and doesn't seem to mind. He knows it's all in good fun and adds some snap to my writing... so here goes: How in the F did I ever get through 20 years without them figuring out I was color blind?!?! Failing "coloring" in Kindergarten should have been the first clue. Perhaps not being able to match my own clothes throughout life should probably have been a leading indicator that something was amiss in the ocular department. Insisting that our orange VW bug was actually red was probably telling that synapses were not synapsing. Asking Dad why the green traffic light "looked white" should have raised an eyebrow one would think. But, I suppose with 3 other siblings there was always a spare kid around in case I pushed the red button when I should've pushed the green and blew myself to kingdom come. What's a little color blindness between relatives? RANT mode: OFF.
So, in the depths of my despair my dad came to my rescue. "Matt, have you asked your recruiter about Cryptologic Technician?"
Dad was a Cryptologic Technician in the Navy. His dad before him was a CT as well. So I asked Dad what a CT does. He said, "Well, I can't really tell you much because it's all classified, but it involves communications and radios, and I don't think it requires color vision. I really enjoyed it and I think you would, too."
Sheeeit KneeGrow, that's all you had to say! I loved radios, too (loud freaking radios at that) and all this cloak and dagger shit sounded pretty sexy, so I asked my recruiter about it. He knew NOTHING about what a CT did so I figure this should be some really sexy shit so I signed up. I would be a 3rd generation Crypto Tech.
So, after 20 years of color vision neglect, with this little tip Dad TOTALLY REDEEMS HIMSELF. Finally, papers in hand, I left home on January 20, 1987 to join The Navy. God have mercy on us all
Post Edit: I passed this link along to my buddy, Craig (aka: Maverick). I told him that I was immortalizing him on the interwebs. Maverick was good enough to send over a few pics of the old daze. That's "Mav" in the center dressed like Don Johnson. See below. If I'm lyin', I'm dyin'.
