As I try to reconstruct the events of Induction Day at the United States Naval Academy, I can only piece together small clearings in the fog. It was a whirlwind of activity and heat and fog. My brother was a second-class midshipman at the time which gave me a false sense of confidence for what was to come. My day began at 0530 on the morning of July 1, 2014. I put on my “Don’t give up the ship” t-shirt (which turned out to be a mistake as a slew of jokes were made on my behalf during the issuing of all the gear), said my good-byes and proceeded to stand in the first of many long lines filled with other young men and women sporting terrible haircuts. Because I had checked in so early, I was the first person in my room, giving me the opportunity
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At one point I was aimlessly running through the hallways of my new home, Bancroft Hall, when several upper-class midshipmen responsible for training me that summer, swarmed me yelling, “What are you doing?” to which I replied, “I literally have no idea!” All I remember from the swearing-in ceremony was blinding light and struggling more than I have ever struggled in my life to keep my eyes open. Upon agreeing to “well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter” and shouting those momentous two words, I was officially tied to the Navy. After the ceremony, all of us plebes were granted an hour to spend with family and friends. My family admired my new uniform that, according to my five-year-old cousin, made me resemble Popeye and laughed at my issued footwear because they looked a lot like the shoes my grandmother was wearing. The mood was light-hearted (this was my parents second I-day) but tears were still shed and every tear that fell not only added to the sadness of the sticky Annapolis day but to the mugginess as well. I was sitting on the grass surrounded by all of my loved ones eating Drydock’s original Muhleisan sandwich, soaking up every last minute of freedom before those large bronze doors closed behind me. I recall marching into Bancroft Hall but then the fog rolled back in on what turned out to be one of the
At one point I was aimlessly running through the hallways of my new home, Bancroft Hall, when several upper-class midshipmen responsible for training me that summer, swarmed me yelling, “What are you doing?” to which I replied, “I literally have no idea!” All I remember from the swearing-in ceremony was blinding light and struggling more than I have ever struggled in my life to keep my eyes open. Upon agreeing to “well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter” and shouting those momentous two words, I was officially tied to the Navy. After the ceremony, all of us plebes were granted an hour to spend with family and friends. My family admired my new uniform that, according to my five-year-old cousin, made me resemble Popeye and laughed at my issued footwear because they looked a lot like the shoes my grandmother was wearing. The mood was light-hearted (this was my parents second I-day) but tears were still shed and every tear that fell not only added to the sadness of the sticky Annapolis day but to the mugginess as well. I was sitting on the grass surrounded by all of my loved ones eating Drydock’s original Muhleisan sandwich, soaking up every last minute of freedom before those large bronze doors closed behind me. I recall marching into Bancroft Hall but then the fog rolled back in on what turned out to be one of the