When I became a Navy midshipman at Auburn, I experienced some semblance of Navy life from the other side of the uniform. Prior to raising my hand to heaven and swearing an oath to support and defend, my relation to the Navy was as a civilian dependent. All of a sudden, I was now subject to the UCMJ.
I was well aware that my cloistered experience in Auburn's regiment of Midshipmen couldn't possibly compare to what I'd experience as a line officer, but it still imparted useful skills. One that I use regularly was an easier way to convert from military to civilian time. While you technically subtract 12 from everything after 12 noon, that doesn't come naturally, at least to me, in our base 10 numbering system. Another sailor told me the secret - just subtract 2. Take for example, 1700 hours. Seventeen minus 2 is 15. From here you can discount the leading 1 or carry out the much easier calculation of subtracting 10 to arrive at 5 PM.
Another cool but dubious life skill for my resume was military drill. I was responsible for training and drilling my platoon to move in formation. I'm usually pretty quiet, so a number of folks were shocked when I started booming commands. If I had to, I think I could still drill a bunch of plebes on the parade ground.
Many of my experiences were memorable, but one event stands out - the tradition of Dining In. "Dining In" is a formal naval tradition during port calls. A ship's cadre of officers would entertain a group of foreign officers or dignitaries of the host country in the ship's ward room. For us midshipmen, it was basically Navy prom.
The evening of the event, we were all resplendent in our formal uniforms - dress whites for the Navy and dress blues for Marines. Toasts and speeches were given, and I remember dancing, so there must have been a band. Of note, alcohol was present since all instructors were far above the drinking age as well as a good number of the midshipmen who were former enlisted sailors. As we worked through the multi-course dinner, guards were relaxed and a lot of smack talk began to emanate from tables with liquor.
The scene continued to get rowdier until the conclusion of the evening. We all stood at attention as senior officers departed - some staggering and one Lieutenant leaning very heavily on a colleague's shoulder.
With the skipper and XO out of the room, one of the staggering lieutenants managed to yell, "Weapons free!!" before collapsing and being carried out.
Following what was perceived to be a lawful order, a Porky's level food fight instantly commenced. Cheese cake, dinner rolls, and chunks of tomatoes created multiple fields of culinary suppressing fire. I grabbed my companion for the evening and we ducked under the table. We could hear the din of conflict all around us. Maniacal laughter from a couple of Marines in their element, cries from those straffed by volleys of potatoes, and the clatter of china as a groups of combatants tipped their tables over in an attempt to mount a defense.
When the "all clear" was finally sounded, we emerged from our cloth draped bunker and were greeted by a scene of mass gastronomic destruction. Toppled tables, gravy stained curtains, and bits of the main course hanging from the chandeliers utterly destroyed the venue.
Needles to say, the Skipper was not amused. NROTC Auburn was presented with a staggering bill for cleanup and repairs. This in turn was divided among the entire regiment. Those who were seated at drinking tables were levied a higher fine.
We didn't have another Dining In during my time at Auburn, but the event gave me my first war story.
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