I wanted to send a loud message that would prove I was serious about making them partners, not peons. But I knew that words alone would have little impact.
They had heard all the Navy slogans a thousand times. Every admiral says our people come first, but few back those words with actions. What I needed was a dramatic gesture. Fortunately, an opportunity came four days after I took command, when we faced the challenging job of refueling at sea.
Navy ships carry at least half a tank of fuel at all times (Benfold’s tanks hold almost 500,000 gallons). This keeps them ready for emergencies. If you’re called on to help another vessel in distress, for example, you might have to travel great distances with no access to filling stations. When you get down to half a tank, you’re supposed to refuel. And that job gets exciting when you do it at sea.
Refueling at sea involves navigating alongside an oiler—a Navy tanker that carries some eight million gallons of fuel. The ships stay parallel, moving ahead steadily at about fifteen knots—sixteen and a half miles an hour. After you maneuver your ship to a distance of 120 feet from the tanker, the tanker’s crew sends over two cables, each carrying an eight-inch fuel hose. The cables are tensioned so that they will remain taut when the two ships separate or converge by a few yards, but the margin of error is thin. You always worry about breaking the lines by veering too far apart or dipping the hoses into the sea, ripping them away, if the ships get too close together. You hook the hoses to your tanks for the refill, and you can probably pump 200,000 gallons in a little over an hour and a half.
Refueling at sea is great fun but also very dangerous, especially in rough seas; the two ships are in danger of crashing into each other, risking structural damage as well as explosions. The job requires expert ship handling, and officers put their careers on the line every time they do it. It’s crucial to practice often so that you become proficient, and also to make sure that when your junior officers become commanders, they won’t be afraid of refueling their ships.
By all accounts, Benfold had not refueled much at sea. Most of the previous refuelings had been done at the pier in port, which was not as dangerous. When I took command of Benfold, we had less than half a tank. So within days I ordered up a refueling at sea. I was now responsible for the ship and did not want to be caught unprepared.
Only the combat systems officer, Lieutenant Kevin Hill, was thoroughly proficient with the maneuver. Though he was outstanding at it, no ship or company can rely on just one person for a critical procedure. That makes the whole ship hostage to a single individual who may get hurt or sick, leaving you in big trouble. In the current squeeze on business costs, many companies have cut back so much that they are only one-deep in critical positions, leaving no
margin for error. I saw this as a prescription for disaster. My goal was to cross- train in every critical area. Thus, when the day came, I didn’t let the experienced officer do it. I wanted other people to start learning.
I found myself on the bridge with a junior-grade lieutenant, K.C. Marshall—a great guy, always smiling—who was that watch’s conning officer (the person who “conns” the ship orders the helmsman regarding its course and speed). I asked him if he had ever refueled at sea. He looked down at his feet and said,
“No sir.” He was afraid I would think him incompetent. Far from it. The problem was that he had never been given the opportunity to learn.
Next, I asked Lieutenant Jerry Olin, the officer of the deck, if he had ever run a refueling at sea. I got the same downward glance, the same “No sir.” Olin actually thought I was going to relieve him.
I looked at both these fine young officers and said, “Guess what: I have never done it before either. It’s time the three of us learned how.” They both broke into ear-to-ear grins. (In truth, I had done it hundreds of times, though never on Benfold. I also had Kevin Hill on hand to coach and mentor the novices.)
While maneuvering alongside the tanker, Marshall was extremely tentative.
The usual practice, I was told, was to wait to be directed in what to do. I don’t need parrots in my organization. Marshall kept asking me for permission to change rudder by a degree or add half a knot to our speed.
If all you give are orders, then all you will get are order-takers. Since my goal was to create self-starters, I finally said, “Hey, K.C., it’s your ship, take responsibility for it. Don’t ask permission; do it.” That was all he needed to hear.
I stood by in case of trouble, but I became irrelevant. He took complete control and did a fantastic job. I was truly proud of him, and his confidence soared. I burst with pride when I think of how far K.C. progressed as a naval officer.
The message raced through the ship: This captain doesn’t want parrots—he wants people who think for themselves. That was my first opportunity to demonstrate a new style, and it paid off handsomely. Trusting a neophyte to perform this tricky maneuver was a powerful metaphor as well as the reality of my way of leading. Refueling at sea became a symbol for the positive changes that lay ahead.
But in all honesty, I have to say I was terrified at the start of the refueling.
After all, I had never been fully responsible for this maneuver, and here I was, at thirty-six, in charge of a billion-dollar asset. I was filled with self-doubt, and my heart was racing. I was nearly hyperventilating; I wondered what kind of image I was projecting. I called my XO, Lieutenant Commander Jeff Harley, and asked him if I appeared nervous. He said he could not tell, and I had no choice but to believe him.
After we made our approach and settled in nicely alongside the tanker, I had a feeling of total relief; then I started to feel almost giddy at how well K.C. was doing. My own confidence started to soar, and I said to myself, “Hey, I can do this.” Four days into my tenure, I started to feel that Benfold had the potential to be great and do great things. Looking back, that refueling was when I started to believe in myself as a leader.