It’s Officer Candidate School, so you figure there are classes. While we had activities such as firefighting, PT, and drilling in formation, most of our time was spent in classrooms and, after dinner, studying in our rooms. As ordered!
Seachest reports that we had class from 0800 until 1100 or noon and then, following lunch and a little PT, classes again 1300-1600. Then came drill, dinner, and “an opportunity to take care of personal requirements such as writing letters and maintaining his uniforms.” (Those “opportunities” were fun times.) At 1900, we sat down at our desks for three hours of study, with two specified 10-minute breaks, and then a half-hour to get ready for taps at 2230.
I know we all made best use of that study time. I remember trying to figure out a way I could nap with my head up. Doors had to remain open, I believe, and some NAVOCS staff had the duty to wander the halls. I’m sure I, and many others, managed on occasion to hold our head up with our hands and still catch a few winks.
According to Seachest, we spent 390 hours total in the classroom during NAVOCS, “studying tactics, leadership, engineering and navigation, and naval management.” And, Seachest claims, that amount of classroom instruction was close to what a normal college year would entail.
One of the toughest courses, for me at least, was “organization,” the Navy’s bureaucracy and its administrative procedures. By toughest, I mean it was the most difficult in which to stay awake. Navy regs, directives and instructions, reports, record-keeping, correspondence . . . life according to the NAVINST. All very important, but sometimes too difficult to process when you were tired or worn out.
There are two instructors I remember especially. One was BTC Holzer, who was in the Technology division and taught us, I believe, about boilers. Chief Holzer just seemed to be what I expected a chief boiler technician to be like, and that was a very positive thing. The other was LT Gordon, in Tactics (photo at top). For some reason, I just thought he looked squared away. I looked at the two gold stripes on the sleeve and the service ribbons and thought I might look like that some day. (I did, somewhat, but my time as a Lieutenant was not until the Reserves and for only a couple of years.)
I also remember Victory at Sea. I had watched some of it when I was a kid, but seeing it at NAVOCS was extra special. Yes, it was a majestic tribute to the Navy and Marine Corps in WWII, but, at NAVOCS, when instructors would choose to show us an episode, it meant the lights went going to go down and, thus, so did our heads. Maybe 20 minutes of rest.
One episode of Victory at Sea we watched shows a Navy pilot crash landing his plane on a carrier and later assisting in the burial at sea of a crew mate from that flight. Recently Don Cosgrove, fellow member of A6903, told me something I had not known — that pilot was Don’s father. Don recalls pointing it out to some at the time and Dennis Greenspon confirms that account.
At some point, those of us who had attained a certain grade point average became eligible for a white name tag. As much of what we were tested on required repetition of information we had read or been told, and that was in my intellectual wheelhouse, I qualified for said white name tag. While it was not regarded as any particular academic achievement, such name tag enabled its bearer to have extra liberty. White name tag bearers were able to return from weekend liberty somewhat later than others on Sundays, and could go on liberty one night during the week. Extra liberty was worth something.