A Deployment for Two

Sweet homecoming

I had written three novels of epic fantasy and one medical thriller when I made the decision—finally—to try to get published. For my fifth novel, I knew I wanted to write a love story with a strong female protagonist, but when I began my research into agents and editors, they all called for the same thing—something unique!

At the time, using the Navy as a setting wasn’t an option, a thought, or even a microscopic notion. I had simply never considered it.

I was at such a loss for an idea, I began writing my fourth novel of epic fantasy to fill the time. About six chapters into this new manuscript, now July 2011, the Navy announced it would begin assigning women to submarines. I’ll never forget when my husband looked at me and said, “A woman in the Navy. That’s your story.”

Common advice given to authors is to write what you know. The Navy? I knew this. A love story set in a battle group, particularly with a woman as the main protagonist? Unique. And as a bonus, I knew what it would be like for my protagonist to deploy with someone she loved.

My husband and I met at the Naval Academy and had been married for four years when we deployed together with the USS Nimitz battle group—he on the USS Lake Champlain, a guided missile cruiser, and me on the USS Kansas City, a replenishment oiler. Our first Western Pacific deployment was short by today’s standards, just six months. At that time, in 1993, women were still prohibited from serving on combatant ships, however, a growing number of auxiliary ships were opening their decks to women, including the Kansas City.

My roommate and I were the first women to deploy aboard the Kansas City, members of the air detachment, flying the H-46 helicopter. It was just the two of us, serving with a crew of about 500. Our battle group, now called a carrier strike group, counted four women total—two of our squadron mates were deployed aboard the ammunition ship, USS Shasta—in a task force numbering about 7,000.

Of those 7,000, one was my husband, Bill, who flew the H-60 helicopter. That we were assigned to the same battle group was pure happenstance, a matter of timing more than anything. Because we entered flight school at the same time and eventually received our wings on the same day, the timing of our arrival to our fleet squadrons matched, and our deployment schedules somehow aligned from there—for the first long deployment, anyway.

Bill on the flight deck of the Lake Champlain

Because HOVER takes place in present day, the main characters, Sara and Eric, are able to use email and cell phones to communicate. However, when Bill and I deployed, there was no such thing, not onboard ships, anyway. So we found other ways to communicate. Fortunately for us, the other ships in the battle group relied on the Kansas City for their food, fuel, supply parts and ammunition. We conducted something called CONREP, or connected replenishment, where ships would come alongside ours, lines would be cast between the two to connect them, and hoses run across those lines so we could deliver fuel. During these evolutions, if we weren’t flying, we could wave to each other, while standing on our respective flight decks.

When appropriate, we also talked to each other via the hand-held radios we carried with us for flying, the PRC-90. And when I landed on the Lake Champlain, as we did on daily logistics flights, we took advantage of our in-house “mail delivery system,” otherwise known as passing notes.

Sara and Eric’s story is not the tale of Anne and Bill. Our love story was quite different and maybe there’s another blog article in that. But I drew from our joint experiences in the fabrication of Sara and Eric’s journey, and I’ll briefly touch on one of those angles here—a couple serving in a risky work environment, both in harm’s way. A modern issue, to be sure, now that so many married couples and partners deploy together. 

For example, during work-ups for our deployment, one of our H-46 aircraft had to ditch in the Pacific. Bill was in the cockpit of his H-60, turning on the deck of the Lake Champlain, when the call came that a Sideflare—the call sign for our H-46 helicopter—had gone in the water. Only two Sideflare helicopters were flying that day, so there was a fifty percent chance it was my aircraft. He was about to lift from the deck to provide search and rescue support, when his officer in charge pulled him from the cockpit and replaced him with another pilot. 

Bill remembers that perhaps he may have had a few choice words for his boss for pulling him from a mission. His officer in charge explained that no one knew yet if I was in the helicopter that had gone down. But in Bill’s mind, whether I had been in the bird or not, he felt he should have been able to fly. He clearly remembers the rush of adrenaline and thinking, “A helicopter’s in the water! Let’s go!”

He learned later that I was flying in the second helicopter when the first ditched. In fact, we performed the rescue for the pilot, while the ship sent a small boat to retrieve the remainder of the crew.

The tables were turned during a transit through the Strait of Hormuz, when another helicopter went down, this time at night. Initial reports indicated it was an H-60. As I learned later, Bill did the search for that aircraft, an H-2, which in this case, ended tragically with the deaths of all four crew members.

Comparing notes after each incident, we both admitted reacting in a detached way to those initial reports of helicopters in the water, compartmentalizing and responding to the task at hand of searching for a downed aircraft. The emotional side—What if he/she is in the aircraft?—never kicked in for us.

I want to point out that Sara and Eric react and respond differently than Bill and I would have in several scenes in HOVER, due to the requirements of the story, its arc and plot. But like I said earlier, Sara and Eric are fictional characters in a fictional setting doing things that will hopefully keep the reader turning the pages.

But back to reality, I’ve heard it many times in discussions about integrating women into combat units that men might act differently with women present and vice versa. But what I personally experienced and what we witnessed time and again was consummate professionalism, men and women doing their jobs side by side, just as they were trained. 

Granted, the emotional stakes were higher since we were married. But Bill says that if he ever found himself worrying about me, he would tell himself, “Anne knows what she’s doing. You just need to make sure you know what you’re doing.” I felt the same way, channeling my focus into doing my job well, knowing Bill was doing his, and understanding that worrying wouldn't accomplish much of anything. 

Yes, it was a unique shared experience for a married couple, but the Navy trained us well, and I think we handled it like any professional military service member would, just as our soldiers, sailors and airmen do today.

Women Who Inspire: Interview with Margaret (Marcantonio) Rayburn

Here's another in my continuing series of interviews with women who inspire the strong female protagonists in my novels. This time, meet Margaret Rayburn!

Margaret (Marcantonio) Rayburn graduated with a Bachelor of Science in General Engineering from the US Naval Academy and reported to Navy Recruiting Area Three, Macon, GA. She acted as the Advertising and Marketing Support Officer for three years before transferring to the Military Entrance Processing Station (MEPS), Troy, MI, where she served as the Operations Officer. After six years of active duty service, Margaret returned to the civilian sector, remaining in the Naval Reserves for an additional two years, achieving the rank of Lieutenant Commander (O-4). She currently works for a segment of UnitedHealth Group called Optum as a Vice President for Population Health Management Reporting. Margaret lives with her husband, Jeff (USNA '87) and two daughters, Meghan and Michaela, in Eden Prairie, MN - just outside of Minneapolis.  Her son, Joey, is a Navy sailor (ET3) and is completing Nuclear Power School in Charleston, SC. Meghan graduated from Loyola University New Orleans with a Bachelor of Music Therapy in May 2014, and is currently working at her internship in the twin cities area for board certification.  

AW:  Margaret, why the Naval Academy?

MR: My older brother went there—Class of ‘82.  When he was a plebe, I went to visit him during Parent’s Weekend, and I said, “I’m gonna do this!” I was only eleven years old—in sixth grade. I remember my mom’s reaction—something like, “Yeah . . . right.”

AW: Was she surprised that you were still talking about it in high school?

MR: Yeah. But then it was that slow realization that, wow, she’s really serious about this.

AW: Did you apply to any other schools?

MR: Yes, I was accepted at the University of Michigan, and I actually thought that’s where I was going because I hadn't heard back from the Naval Academy. I just assumed I hadn't been accepted.

AW: So what happened?

MR: It turns out they had lost my paperwork. My congressmen called me while I was in the middle of a final exam in government class—this is in May, mind you, one month before Plebe Summer begins—and he told me I had gotten in.

AW: You only had a month’s notice that you were going to the Naval Academy!

MR: Yeah, is that crazy? (laughs)

AW: I would say so! Looking through your biography, it says you served in Troy, MI, at the MEPS [Military Entrance Processing Station].

MR: I was the Operations Officer there. It was a small joint command, and we did the entrance processing for the high school kids coming into the service. They would take their aptitude tests there, get their physicals, all of that.

AW: Was this just for the navy or all of the services?

MR: This was for all of the services. Once the kids knew what they were qualified for, they would pick their job, sign their contract, take their oath of office, and then we’d ship them off to boot camp. In fact, I did the swearing in for these kids.

AW: You mean like, “I, Jane Smith, do solemnly swear. . .”

MR: Yep. I did that for thousands of new service members.

AW: Thousands? How many people did you process through your command?

MR: Oh, gosh. Probably fifteen hundred kids a month.

AW: Fifteen hundred per month! 

MR: Yeah, we were a busy place. We probably had eighty kids per day coming in for physicals.

AW: I had no idea. But you know, that is really kind of cool. Taking the oath of office is a big deal. I mean, it’s the common starting point for all of us—regardless of service, regardless of rank—and you were the one administering this to umpteen thousand kids.

MR: I guess you’re right. We always had families coming in to watch and take pictures. It was a pretty big event for most.

AW: And you were the one starting them on their journeys. That really strikes a chord with me. Maybe it’s the fact that I’m a parent. It’s like sending your kids off into the big, wide world to start their lives.

MR: Yeah, I know what you mean. Each swearing in ceremony was a proud moment for me.

AW: After your tour at the MEPS, you transitioned into the civilian world and went to work for Electronic Data Systems as a business analyst. Was that an easy transition or did you find any difficulty there?

MR: The transition wasn’t so bad. It was almost the same work-wise. I just wasn’t wearing a uniform anymore. But the weirdest thing was that the hierarchy was gone. I was so used to my chain of command in the navy. You always knew your place. You knew who you went to if you needed something. So that took some getting used to.

AW: How about the hiring process? I’ve heard over and over from others how their military experience didn’t open the doors for them as they thought it would.

MR: Yeah, that part was frustrating. I had just left a smaller command, but due to the way it was structured, I actually held a rather high position—almost like an executive officer. I was responsible for an awful lot of people. But when I went to interview, I was told I didn’t have management experience. I explained that I lead so many people—I can’t remember the exact number now—but they countered that it wasn’t the same thing. I basically didn’t get any credit for my leadership experience, so I had to start at the bottom rung of the company and work my way back into a management position. In fact, I had to take a fifty percent pay cut from what I was making in the military.

AW: Ouch. So I realize I’m skipping around here, but your husband, Jeff, is a Class of ’87 grad. Did you meet him at school or later?

MR: We actually met at school, in the Catholic Choir. I went to a Superintendent’s reception at the end of our plebe year, and I met him there. We weren’t in uniforms or anything, so it was somewhat of a normal meeting, I guess you would say. We’ve been together ever since.

AW: That means when you were a youngster, you were dating a firstie with a car! Lucky!

MR: I know! He had a brand new mustang. It was sweet.

AW: I’m laughing because Bill and I just walked around downtown Annapolis in our uniforms for our “dates.” So do you have a favorite memory of the Naval Academy? 

MR: You mean besides graduation? (laughs) Oh, let’s see. I would say it was plebe year right after we beat Army [in football]. Everything was fairly lax at school after that. Everyone was happy heading into Christmas break. Remember how they gave us carry-on? No chopping. No yelling. It was almost like a normal college, and it was the first time I hadn't felt like a plebe.

AW: I absolutely remember that! 

MR: Our room faced out onto Goat Court [a courtyard within the walls of Bancroft Hall—the dormitory that houses the brigade of midshipman]. As plebes, we weren’t allowed to have stereos or music, but after the Army-Navy game, the upperclassmen would put their stereos in the windows and play Christmas music. I remember opening our window to listen to the music, and it was heaven. I felt so happy—like a normal human being.

The Mom Contest

For years, my sisters and I have bantered about who is winning the "mom contest."

Of course, the playful digs are there:

Most stubborn like Mom? Me.

Most clinical like Mom? Again, me.

Who would rather have a tooth pulled before going shopping for clothes at the mall? My mom and I would hold hands at the dentist.

All of these things play out in good-natured fun, and yes, I am probably “winning” this “race.” But my mom and I share a lot more than stubbornness. One facet of our connectedness lies in the professional paths we chose—medicine for her, military aviation for me—both at times when women in these respective fields found themselves in the rather small minority.

She graduated from the University of Nebraska College of Medicine in 1955, a class comprising 80 men and 4 women. She had to apply three times to get in, and when she did, she wasn’t exactly met with balloons and confetti.

Her biochemistry professor bragged that the women in his class would flunk. He even sat them in the front row of his lecture hall—they had to sit side by side—so he “could keep an eye on them.”

Crotchety old medical school professors aside, my mom said she felt fortunate to have had so many World War II veterans in her class. They had come home from the war older and more grounded—you can imagine—so having a woman in their class was small potatoes. 

The picture of my mom above was taken in her physiology class in October 1953. She showed it to me for the first time a few weeks ago, and I had one of those hit-me-over-the-head-with-a-brick moments. One woman, surrounded by men, in an overwhelmingly male-dominated environment. Score another point for me in the mom contest.

Fast forward 44 years to my search and rescue squadron at Naval Air Station Fallon, NV. This photo represents the typical scenario I found myself in throughout my Naval career, and I suspect most of my female Naval Academy classmates have similar photos.

My parents received quite a shock when I told them I wanted to go to the Naval Academy. But in hindsight, sprinting down the unbeaten path wasn’t anything new in my family. This move had my mom’s DNA written all over it. Fortunately, she passed down a good dose of humor and inner fortitude to go with it.

Women Who Inspire: Interview with Maria (Chapman) Long

This is the third in a series of interviews of women who inspire the strong female protagonists I favor when writing my novels. 

On meeting her, you would never guess that Maria is a Marine Corps Colonel. Sweet as sin on the outside, tough as nails on the inside, Maria is one of those people that any author would love to pluck from reality and drop straight into one of their novels.

Enjoy!

Maria (Chapman) Long graduated with a Bachelor of Science in English from the US Naval Academy and entered the US Marine Corps, reporting to The Basic School in Quantico, VA. Her Military Occupational Specialty is Cryptologic Intelligence and she served 9 years active duty before moving to the reserves. She holds a Masters in Business Administration from Boston University and a Masters in Education from Old Dominion University. She’s now in her 13^th year of reserve duty, holds the rank of Colonel (O-6), and is a Marine Air-Ground Task Force (MAGTF) Chief with the MAGTF Staff Training Program IMA (Reserve) Detachment.Maria lives with her husband and two children in Williamsburg, VA. 

AW: You're the first woman I've interviewed from our class who entered the Marine Corps following graduation. What was it like when you entered basic training in Quantico? Were you the only woman in your training platoon or were there others?

ML: At that time, women weren't integrated into the men’s platoons as they are now. In fact, I had to wait until they had collected enough women to form an all-women’s platoon, so I could begin my training.

AW: I’m surprised they separated you. Did you feel that was a good thing or a not-so-good thing?

ML: I didn't understand why we were separated. That segregation just drives home that belief that women are different—you know, that group over there. In my mind, it fosters an “us and them” mentality, rather than an integrated team mentality. At The Basic School, men and women both were learning how to be Marine Corps officers. Women had the same requirements for that basic knowledge, and we did what the guys did, for the most part, so I don’t know why we had to be separated into a different platoon to accomplish those things.

AW: How is it done now? Do they still put women in their own platoon?

ML: No, now it’s integrated. You might have one or two women in a male platoon, for example. It’s much better this way.

AW: Sort of like the Naval Academy where women were spread across all companies.

ML: Yeah, just like that. And you remember how much better that was in terms of getting to know the guys in our companies and all working together. It fosters a far better team environment and one of mutual respect, I think.

AW: You met your husband while you were both active duty, right?

ML: Yeah, this is a really romantic story! (laughs)

AW: Ok, let me have it!

ML: I was stationed at Parris Island as a Series Commander and my main purpose in that assignment was to ensure the Recruit Training Schedule was followed safely and appropriately. I was out on the PT field, dressed green on green [a Marine working uniform], and he just walked up and started talking to me. I just remember both of standing there dressed identically—all in green.

AW: Just so you know, the other women I’ve talked to that married guys in the military have similar “romantic” stories. There seems to be trend here!

ML: (Laughs) Yeah, but that was about it. He stayed in for five years and then left to pursue a job with military headhunters. He still does that today, by the way.

AW: You have so much crammed into your resume over the last 20+ years. Was there any tour more challenging than another?

ML: Of course they all had their own challenges, but I remember my time at Amphibious Warfare School. You had over 100 captains, of which only a handful were women. Initially, I felt a little out of my element. There was an infantry focus here and most of the guys had infantry experience, but my background was in intelligence. So we’d break into discussion groups of about 15 officers where I was the only woman. The guys were totally in their element, planning battlefield tactics, where to place artillery and how to arrange their units and such. But I think the men in my group were surprised because I came at problems with a different perspective. I would choose my moments, being careful when to add my input, but oftentimes, it led to a better plan. Believe it or not, I left as an honor graduate, which I never would have anticipated.

AW: That’s awesome! It sounds like your approach—the choosing-your-moments approach—helped you in this environment. I was curious if you've ever experienced times when guys weren't open to your opinions. 

ML:  I've never really had an ongoing difficult time with anyone. Although, there have definitely been times when I've felt that the person I’m dealing with doesn't respect me. In those cases, it’s hard because I know they aren't going to change their mind about women in that moment. I could sit there and speak all I want and give my opinions, but guys like that have already shut me down.

AW: What’s your approach to handling something like that—when they've tuned you out, so to speak?

ML: Well (laughs), kill ‘em with kindness! I stay pleasant. I prove that I can handle whatever I’m doing, and oh, by the way, do it pretty darn well. It’s the same old story about having to be twice as good, but you just can’t get in people’s faces about it.

Women Who Inspire: Interview with Catherine (McCann) Gillies

This is the second in a series of interviews of women who inspire the strong female protagonists I favor when writing my novels.

Cathy was notably the first female pilot to fly in any Marine Corps aviation squadron.

Catherine (McCann) Gillies graduated with a Bachelor of Science in Mathematics from the US Naval Academy and reported to flight school in Pensacola, FL. During her 20-year active duty career, she flew the H-3 and H-1 helicopters and was notably the first female pilot to fly in any Marine Corps aviation squadron. She holds two masters degrees and earned a Doctorate in Industrial and Organizational Psychology. She completed her career serving as the Executive Officer of Navy Operational Support Center (NOSC) Baltimore. Catherine retired with the rank of Lieutenant Commander (O-4) and is currently teaching in the Masters of Industrial/Organizational Psychology program for Argosy University Online. Catherine lives with her two daughters and one son in Annapolis, MD.

AW: You flew the H-3 helicopter off of five different aircraft carriers during your time at HC-16. How long were you aboard the carriers typically and what was your primary mission?

CG: We stayed aboard anywhere from a couple of weeks to a couple of months and provided SAR (Search and Rescue) support for jet pilots earning their carrier landing quals. We also helped with hurricane evacuations among other things.

AW: You and your roommate, a USNA ’88 grad, were the first two female pilots stationed aboard the aircraft carrier USS Kitty Hawk. Any sea stories you’d like to relate from that time?

CG: Well, they used to post Marine Corps guards outside our stateroom doors. This was the case on several of the aircraft carriers in the early days. It made my roommate and me uncomfortable because they could hear us moving around the room and talking, so we would order them to leave. Usually, their superiors would send them back, but after several days of back and forth and me reminding them that I outranked their boss, they would finally relent and leave us alone.

AW: You are featured in Linda Maloney’s book, Military Fly Moms. In it, you relate a story that happened on a different aircraft carrier when you called the ship’s weather forecasters for a weather briefing for your flight.

CG: (Laughs). Yeah, I called for a weather briefing, the sailor on the other end of the line laughed, asked me

how I had gotten his number and who had put me up to this. He then stated there were no women aboard the ship before hanging up on me! This was long before the days of cell phones, so I had to be on the ship to call him in his office!

AW: Any other funny carrier moments?

CG: I guess this wasn’t exactly funny for him, but a junior petty officer rounded a corner in the passageway near my stateroom on the Kitty Hawk and obviously wasn’t expecting to see a woman standing there. He just stared—gawking—and while his head was turned, ran straight into the bulkhead.

AW: I guess you were definitely a novelty! Which leads me to your time with HMT-303. You were the first female pilot to be stationed with a Marine Corps squadron, flying Hueys out of Camp Pendleton. I was lucky to have you as an instructor when I transitioned to H-1’s, but how were you received there?

CG: You know, I think you were the only other female I saw come through HMT-303 while I was there. But I would say it was more awkward than my time in Navy squadrons. I was just trying to fit in, but it seemed I was always getting a lot of attention with the base newspaper or the base TV station. It made me stand out when I just wanted to be one of the guys.

AW: Speaking of Marine Corps aviation, can you relate the story about chopping through the halls as a plebe and what you were not allowed to say? [As a plebe, or freshman, at the Naval Academy, you are not allowed to walk in the dormitory hallways—you have to jog, eyes straight ahead. It’s called chopping. And whenever you turn a corner, like to turn down a hallway from the main corridor, you must yell something motivational like “Go Navy!” or “Beat Army!”]

CG: My second classman stopped me in the hall because I had just yelled “Fly Marine Corps, Sir!” He informed me that I couldn't say that since women weren't allowed to fly in the Marine Corps. Ironic, huh?

AW: Love that story. So had you always wanted to go to the Naval Academy?

CG:  I did. I grew up in Annapolis and I was in middle school when the first women were admitted there. I thought how cool it would be to go to sea and travel the world.

AW: Had you always wanted to be a pilot?

CG: No, actually, I was intending to go Surface Warfare, but my roommates at Navy talked me out of it.

AW: Good decision?

CG: Yeah, I loved it, but I will say that throughout my career, I was usually the only female pilot in my squadron. I had the other female pilot in HC-16, and then you came and went at HMT-303, but most often, I was the only one. But, yeah, it was great.

Equal military physical fitness standards . . . please

Discussing the complexities of the Navy’s Physical Readiness Program surely warrants something on the order of a doctoral dissertation. But since this is a relatively short article, I will focus on just one piece of this ignominious puzzle, one that allows me to give my two cents based on personal experience. Namely, that current physical fitness standards aren’t doing women any favors with respect to finding true equality in the ranks of the military.

Many moons ago, when I attended the U.S. Naval Academy, the campus showcased two obstacle course climbing walls—the men’s wall and the women’s wall. One higher. One lower. Two passing 1.5-mile run times. One faster. One slower. Two numbered requirements for push-ups. One more. One less.

Men:  Higher, faster, more.

Women:  Lower, slower, less.

It just glares at you, doesn’t it? And in my opinion, it’s the kiss of death in terms of unit cohesion. We say we want to give women a fair shot at integrating equally into our military, but how is this possible with differing standards within our ranks?

While there is no easy solution, ultimately, the Navy would do well to move to fitness standards based on job requirement.

Let’s use the easy example of a Navy fireman.

 

If the job requirement states that a fireman must be able to drag a 170-pound person for 50 feet, there’s a valid reason for it. If I’m that 170-pound person, lying collapsed in a burning building and in need of rescue,  I want to know that whoever arrives to save me has passed this requirement. I don’t care if they’re male, female, gay, straight, purple or striped. Can you get me out of here? That’s all I want to know.

In Navy flight school, the instructors employed all manner of contraptions and apparatuses to simulate helicopter crashes, jet crashes, and being dragged by a parachute. No surprise that the tests were the same for all of us. Survival in the event an aircraft mishap is most certainly a gender-neutral endeavor.

The camaraderie and mutual respect garnered from shared experiences like the ones I had in flight school, men and women having met the same standards, drew us closer as a group, resulting in a more cohesive team.

Compare this with the “baseline” physical readiness standards that every member of the Navy, regardless of warfare specialty, must meet.

Navy personnel must run 1.5 miles or swim 500 yards, followed by curl-ups and push-ups. They are then rated in one of six performance categories, delineated by age and gender, based on their physical readiness test results:

 

Maximum

Outstanding

Excellent

Good

Satisfactory

Failure

 

Let’s say a 35-year-old woman runs 1.5 miles in 15:00. This would earn her a “good” score, whereas, her 35-year-old male counterpart who also ran 15:00 would only receive a “satisfactory” score. Come the end of the year when annual job evaluations are given, assuming all else is equal, this could be the tie breaker.

In fact, a 35-year-old woman can run a full two minutes slower than her male counterpart for a “satisfactory” or passing score. Two minutes? Are you kidding?

Ok, I said this would be a short article, but I just have to say something on this point.

My husband and I have owned a triathlon coaching business for eleven years, coaching athletes ranging in age from  18 to 74. This means we work day in and day out with individuals, men and women, who fall within the age range to serve in the military. Most of them are not elite-level athletes, just as most military personnel are not elite-level athletes. Most of them are accountants, attorneys, stay-at-home moms and dads . . . you get the idea. Just normal folks who like to stay in shape.

Based on our experience, it would be ludicrous to suggest that our female athletes would, on average, perform two minutes slower on a 1.5-mile run test than our men in the same age range. And yet, if we use the Navy’s physical fitness standards as an example, this is exactly what you see.

Regarding the performance of the 35-year-old woman, the 35-year-old man has every right to say, “She did not meet the qualifications I had to meet.” And there is nothing more damaging to the esprit de corps necessary in any well-functioning team than the splinters of perceived unfairness formed in cases like this.

I remember completing the physical readiness test while overseas on deployment and receiving a “maximum” score for push-ups. When my fellow pilots found out, they were smug. “So, how many push-ups did you have to do on the women’s scale?” You know, that inferior one. The one that proves that you’re weaker and we’re stronger. Yeah, that one. Fortunately, I was able to respond that I had scored the maximum on the men’s scale. But what was interesting was their reactions. It was immediate.  A 180-degree about face. I had to squint from the onrush of air from so many rapidly deflating balloons. Well, ok then. Perhaps you’re worthy, after all.

More on push-ups below, but first, back to running. If the Navy insists on baseline run time standards for its personnel, they should use a physical-standards-based-on-job-requirement model and calibrate the baseline to the job that requires the lowest physical standards. Then, depending on warfare specialty, the physical requirements would go up from there. Regardless, the standards should be the same for all, men and women, in their particular warfare specialty.

And just as a side note, does running 1.5 miles once per year and doing so under a certain time indicate fitness? I knew plenty of service members who never worked out. Ever. Yet, once a year, they gutted out a 1.5-mile run and were deemed “fit.”

Which leads me to the 500-yard swim standards . . .

You know, I’m not even going to cover this. The main problem with swim standards isn’t a gender issue, not primarily, anyway, so I won’t touch it. No, this article is supposed to be short. I won’t even start. Can’t start . . .

But . . . Just . . . Can’t . . . Help . . .  It.

Aghh, I have to say something!

The swim tests are so utterly unrelated to fitness, it’s ludicrous. Yes, ludicrous. I’ve now used the word ludicrous four times in one article, but the absurdity of the swim standards demands it.

As a swim coach, the subject is near and dear to my heart—perhaps too near. But when a 30-year-old woman is given 15 minutes to swim 500 yards—this is 3 minutes per 100 yards—you have to scratch your head. I mean . . . no. Just no, no, no. This is not in any way, shape, or form, a proper measure of fitness.

At these swim speeds—in fact, for most of the swim speeds listed in all categories for all ages—you are testing technique, not fitness.

Times in swimming for all but those engaged in the competitive swimming arena are far more technique-dependent than fitness-dependent. Someone with decent swim technique who hasn’t exercised in years, can jump in the pool and swim 500 yards in the time standards dictated by the Navy.

And lest you think upper body strength has anything to do with possible swim time differentials between men and women, you’d have to move to the collegiate levels of competitive swimming and higher to find it. For the average sailor, there is no difference between men and women in the water. The sport is so technique dependent, gender becomes a moot point. Therefore, if the Navy insists on swim time standards as a measure of fitness, without question, these have to be the same. 

And, oh by the way, swim times required for a passing score should equate to the fitness level required for a passing time in the run within the same age group. For the 30-year-old woman, to pass the run test requires completing 1.5 miles in 16:45, or 11:10 per mile. And while this might not seem exceptionally fast, if you were to equate it to the “fitness” required to swim 500 yards in 15 minutes, you could walk the 1.5-miles. No, make that stroll. No, actually, you could hop backwards, spinning the whole way, and it would still work . . . .

But I digress.

The powers that be have it right with curl-ups.

The number of curl-ups required for men and women are the same across all age categories. Bravo. As it should be.

But push-ups . . . ?

I have two issues with push-ups. First, is the test itself fair? Can men and women be expected to compete equally here based on the inherent physical differences between them? And second, is the number of push-ups one can perform indicative of one’s fitness.

On the first point, whether you like it or not, men and women are built differently. Generally speaking, men are more well-muscled in the upper body than a woman. That’s just how it is. Our bodies are different.  So, generally speaking, men are going to be able to perform more push-ups than a woman. The current standards reflect this.

But no matter how you slice it, no matter how fair you think the adjusted standards are, in the elemental psyche of a  human, we know the score (pun intended). The 35-year-old male knows he had to perform three times the number of push-ups—three times—to receive a passing score than his female counterpart.

Can you imagine how the 35-year-old male would feel, having just performed 26 push-ups, an effort resulting in the category “failure,” while the 35-year-old woman next to him performed just 9 and received a passing score? You can scream all you want and say that the standards have been adjusted to allow for the differences in our physical make-ups—that it’s a fair test—but I highly doubt that man is going to think so. And will this add to unit cohesion? Highly doubtful.

On the second point, does the number of push-ups one can perform indicate physical fitness? What if a 45-year-old man cranks out 68 push-ups, but can only manage 1.5 miles in 16:08, which is 10:45 per mile? Is this person more fit than the 45-year-old woman who can only do 4 push-ups, but who can run 1.5 miles in 10:58, which is 7:19 per mile?

In this example, the man would pass the Navy’s test, but the woman would not. Hmm.

If the Navy is going to require physical fitness standards, the tests to determine if personnel meet those standards need to be fair. Once fair tests have been established, the standards need to be the same across the board. Moving to physical tests based on job requirement would be a step in the right direction.

Women need to be viewed equally, as having passed the same standards, not as having taken an easier path or that they are somehow less qualified or inferior. The successful integration of women in our ranks depends on it.

Women Who Inspire: Interview with Beth (Wainscott) Cronk

In my novels, I favor—surprise—a strong female protagonist. I don’t have to look far for inspiration.

My Naval Academy classmates serve as great examples. Many “female firsts” have come from our 1989 graduating class. At the time, women were still prohibited from serving aboard combatant ships, flying tactical aircraft, or serving aboard submarines. Even if they weren’t “first,” many of my friends found themselves alone or in the extreme minority as they entered and moved through the fleet depending on their job.


Beth Cronk is one such example. I hope you enjoy her interview here.

Beth (Wainscott) Cronk graduated with a Bachelor of Science in Oceanography from the US Naval Academy and reported to flight school in Pensacola, FL. During her 20-year career (10 years active, 10 years reserve), she piloted several aircraft including the T-2B and TA-4J, earning carrier landing qualifications in both, in addition to flying the C-9 and C-12. After leaving active duty, she also flew the 747-400 for four years. Beth retired with the rank of Commander (O-5). She and her husband (also USNA class of 89) now own and operate Hawaii Dream Vacations. Beth lives with her husband and son in Oahu, Hawaii.

AW: Beth, when did you know you wanted to fly jets?

BC: I was just a little girl, so this was in the 70’s. Of course, women weren't allowed to fly jets then, but my parents never told me that.

AW: I love your parents already! They sound extremely supportive. 

BC: Yeah, they were always supportive of my decision to fly and to go to the Naval Academy. In fact, I received appointments to both the Naval Academy and the Air Force Academy, but chose Navy in the end.

AW: You chose well! You were a Navy brat, right?

BC: Yes, my father retired after 29 years of service as a navy captain and flew A-4’s and A-7’s in Vietnam. He went with me to visit the Navy and Air Force campuses to help me with my decision on where to go for college.

AW: You met your husband, Chris, at Navy. What was the dating scene like?

BC: (Laughs). We met during second class summer and then we were EE [Electrical Engineering] lab partners during the academic year. So our dating consisted of studying together in Chauvenet Hall, basically.

AW: And you got married right after graduation?

Beth Cronk

BC: Actually, we got married two years after graduation, right before I received my wings. I was in Beeville, TX at the time and Chris was an NFO [Naval Flight Officer] in F-14’s stationed in Oceana. So to get co-located, we needed to get married.

AW: When you received your wings, was tactical aviation an option for you at that point?

BC: No. We could remain in the training command as an instructor pilot in the A-4, but that was about it—nothing off the carriers except for C-2’s, but C-2’s were a different training pipeline. It just so happened that at this time, the Navy was going through a huge RIF [Reduction in Force], so my detailer was able to get me into a C-9 squadron [The C-9 is the military version of the McDonnell Douglas DC-9 used for many years by the commercial airlines.] I went on to be an instructor pilot and a post-maintenance check pilot in the C-9.

AW: How many women were in your C-9 squadron?

BC: I think we had four women out of about forty pilots. And then when I flew C-12’s, I think it was two women out of eight pilots.

AW: What about the numbers in flight school in Beeville where you did your jet training?

BC: Oh, in Beeville, it was just Sara [Applegarth Joyner—an 89 classmate] and me in the T-2 squadron, and I think there were only two women in the A-4 squadron—so four of us, total. There were no female instructors at the time and there were only like three or four female staff officers on the base, so maybe eight women total on the entire base!

AW: You relayed a funny story to me via email about the time you did your anthropomorphic measurements when you first entered flight training in Pensacola.

BC: Yeah. Do you remember in primary training when they took every student out to a hangar and had us sit in cockpit mock-ups and take anthropomorphic measurements to see what we could fly? My sitting height is a little short, so they said I could fit in any platform except the A-6. The guy who told me this felt bad that he had to break this news to me—that my options would be limited. I remember laughing and saying something like, "Really? I also have ovaries, which rules out a whole bunch of other aircraft."

AW: That cracks me up! Honestly, you've got so many sea stories, it’s hard to narrow them down and pick which ones to talk about. But I love the tale about you and Kim Nugent, our classmate, on midshipman cruise.

BC: (Laughs again). Kim and I were assigned to a destroyer on First Class Midshipman Cruise. We met the ship when it was anchored off Guantanamo Bay, Cuba. So we take a small boat to go meet the ship and they have cargo netting slung over the side for us to climb to get on board  The only problem was that Kim and I were wearing our summer white skirts and heels! But hey, we had to get aboard. So there we were, climbing the cargo netting in heels with our sea bags slung over our shoulders. Classic!