Talk to just about any chief petty officer and, ten-to-one, he or she will tell you a story or two about how hard, crazy, disturbing, or outright wacky their initiation was. "When I made chief . . ." is just about how every story starts - mine included.

When I made chief - see, here I go - I was stationed in Keflavik, Iceland, and it was a significant emotional event I'll never forget. It was the same for my father, who was initiated in 1979, and it was the same for every chief who's ever been. 

The tragic events of 11 September forever changed the world, our nation, and our military. Its impact was felt deep within the deckplates of every ship, every submarine, and every shore facility - and we SUBLANT chiefs faced the question of how to initiate our new selectees only a few days later. 

Debates began. Arguments raged. "If you're not initiated, then you're not a real chief," said some, while others believed that the traditional initiation that we knew and experienced was never that important to begin with.

I too argued my point. "If we delay or cancel initiation, then the terrorists win," I said. "We cannot allow them to alter our lifestyle. Canceling or even postponing initiation is unconscionable! There needs to be a significant emotional event for these guys!" When is a chief a chief? 

And that's when it hit me. 11 September was a significant emotional event. We were about to promote men and women who will forever be compared to their grandfathers' and grandmothers' generation - the last to witness an equally horrific attack on America - at Pearl Harbor.

Accordingly, on Friday, 14 September, the SUBLANT Staff CPOA and our soon-to-be fellow chiefs gathered in a small grassy lot at the back of the headquarters building. Eight selectees, each with a small spoon, scraped a hole into the craggy ground where the symbols of a blueshirt career would be laid to rest. Then, CTOC(SW) Kristi Dibe said a few words:

Selectees, In a very short time, your life as first class petty officers will end. And although a national crisis has prevented you from participating in our traditional initiation ceremony, you will most certainly NOT be considered among the UN-initiated. You are a unique group, shaped by history itself, facing a challenging and uncertain future, and as the anchors are pinned to your collars, you will begin a new chapter in your life and career. 

But before you go forth to assume your new responsibilities, you must first take a moment to look back. On this sad day in our nation's history, designated by our commander-in-chief as a day of prayer and remembrance, let us reflect on this moment, the task at hand, and the millions who have served our nation in our service, the United States Navy. 

We remember the Civil War - a conflict of countrymen, brother against brother, and father against son; the loss of the USS Maine and the Spanish-American War; the Great White Fleet, circling the globe in the name of democracy. 

We remember World War One, where the power and potential of submarine warfare and aviation came to light, and thousands died on foreign fields. We remember World War Two, the most horrific and costly war ever waged by humanity; December 7th, 1941 - battleships destroyed while Sailors slept; the war in the Atlantic - escort seamen and merchant mariners fighting valiantly against U-boats, to keep Britain, and hope for all of Europe, alive; island-hopping in the South Pacific, and the dawn of the Nuclear Age that ended the war on the decks of the battleship Missouri. 

We remember Korea, and we remember Vietnam; the prisoners of war, the Marines at Khe San. We remember, always, the missing in action - may they one day be returned to their loved ones. And we remember those who gave their lives throughout the Cold War - the Scorpion, the Thresher, the air crews; the young seabee shot and killed on the tarmac in the Middle East; the embassy bombings; the Cole. 

And we will never forget the images ingrained in our minds during the course of this past week. Terrorist aircraft impacting the World Trade Center, the flag unfurled by firefighters beside the gaping hole in the Pentagon, a plane that never reached its target, wrestled to the ground by our brave countrymen. Brothers, sisters, children, parents - an entire country grieves for the thousands lost to a faceless enemy. 

Traditionally, initiation into the chief petty officer ranks has served many purposes - to instill a renewed sense of loyalty and devotion to duty and country. Unity. Strength. Dedication. Patriotism. We've seen these qualities in all of you - and because of the events of this past week, no initiation is necessary. We welcome you, and we're proud to stand beside you today. Together, we face the challenge of leadership. Together, we face a new enemy. Together we fight a new war, armed with the memory of all those who went before us, and of those who gave their very lives for this nation and all it stands for. 

Step forward, one at a time. As you place your white cover in its final resting place and become a true chief petty officer, pause, remember, and pledge aloud NEVER TO FORGET.

The first line of the Chief Petty Officer Creed speaks to the future faced by every chief petty officer: "During the course of this day, you have been caused to humbly accept challenge and face adversity." What could be more adverse than what took place on 11 September? And what more challenging than a global war against a shadowy enemy? So, when is a chief a chief? 

For me, it's been every day since my father first called me "chief," twenty years after he earned his own fouled anchors. For my eight new colleagues, it was when we as the CPO Mess said to each of them, "Welcome aboard, chief." It was significant… and it was emotional.

JOC Jones is the COMNAVSUBFOR Deputy Public Affairs Officer.

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