Until the World Stops - L.A. Witt Page 0,79

one time. Once. And all he basically said was that we should disobey unlawful orders. Like, it’s literally in the UCMJ that we’re supposed to do exactly what he was saying.” She threw up her hand. “But then Chief posts ten times a day about all these conspiracy theories about COVID. He’s undermining everything the CDC says, and spreading all kinds of bad information that could literally get people killed, but nobody gives a shit.”

I blinked. “Wow. He is? I mean I knew he was making noise about it here, but he’s putting it on social media, too?”

“Oh yeah. And I sent some screencaps to Chief Holmes and Senior Chief Johnston, and they haven’t done jack or shit about it.” She huffed, shaking her head. “Senior flat out said it doesn’t violate any regs. But like, neither did Tristan’s post unless they squinted really hard, and what he said wasn’t going to—I mean, who the hell is going to get hurt because someone says ‘Hey guys, maybe don’t do war crimes’? The shit Chief is saying? He’s going to get someone killed.”

“Seriously.” I exhaled.

She sighed. “And of course no one here cares. Because he’s a chief, chiefs can do whatever the fuck they want.” With a disgusted noise, she glared out the window at the other building. “I’m so over it. It’s like this at every command, I’m just… I’m done.”

I watched her. “Done?”

“Yeah. I’m going to take the first class exam, just because…eh, why not? But when my enlistment is up next February, I’m out of here.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Fuck it. I’m done.” She shook her head. “I’m tired of the politics. I’m tired of people using their rank to push everyone around even when it’s not something their rank should have anything to do with. I’m just… I’m tired. I’m done.”

This was where I, as her supervisor, was supposed to start selling the Navy to her. Encouraging her to reconsider. Reminding her of those retirement benefits she was almost halfway to earning, even though those benefits weren’t nearly as good as they’d been back when I’d enlisted.

But what could I say? That it would get better at other commands? That I hadn’t encountered this same bullshit at every single command I’d ever been to since A-school? That I’d always told myself I could knuckle through this or that supervisor’s crap because one of us would transfer and then it would be better, even though it never was?

No, what I should have been doing was banging down the doors of my chain of command and telling them they were about to lose a good Sailor and had no one to blame but themselves. The shitty thing was, I knew there was no point in bringing any of this to their attention, or even taking it up the chain to the XO or the CO. I also didn’t blame Colby for being ready to pack it up and go home. It was the Navy’s loss—she was a great cop, a great Sailor, and an asset to the Navy and to the MA rate.

And how many other good Sailors had the Navy lost before her? The higher ups were always worried about attrition, and encouraging supervisors like me to push our subordinates to reenlist, but did anyone do a damned thing about the reasons good Sailors bailed? No. Never. The saying “the beatings will continue until morale improves” basically summed up how the Navy handled issues like this, and now MA2 Colby’s career would be yet another casualty of failed leadership.

Just like Tristan’s.

I wanted to reject that comparison. While Tristan had absolutely been fucked over and shouldn’t have been booted out, he had poked a hornet’s nest. MA2 Colby was just trying to do her job but couldn’t get away from Chief and his bullshit. And she couldn’t do anything about that bullshit, because she couldn’t tell him to shut up and leave her alone. Not even “with all due respect, leave me alone.” I’d gotten away with it today, but a junior Sailor would’ve been crucified.

Just like Tristan had been.

Tristan could have been a good leader. He had the fire and the drive, and his insubordination could have, with time and patience, been shaped into a refusal to be a doormat while also understanding when he needed to back down. A lot of the best leaders I’d ever worked with or for had admittedly started out as spitfires who didn’t like doing what they were told. So Tristan could have gotten there.

But