The students lived in barracks at Naval Air Station,
Memphis, TN that were two story brick buildings like dormitories where
about fifty guys slept on double high bunks at each level. Lockers sort
of separated four sets of bunk beds into cubicles. We had a Chief Petty
Officer as the Company Commander. His name was Smith.
Each day, we encountered Mr. Smith for one reason or another. I would
always address him as Mr. Smith because that is how my parents raised
me. We were taught to respect our elders and address them as Mr. or Mrs.
I never wavered, even to people that I knew well in our little home town
in
One morning, Mr. Smith stopped me in the passageway after I had said,
“Good morning Mr. Smith!” He said, “Rotruck, my name is Chief!” I said,
“Okay Mr. Chief!” He said, “No, it is not Mr. Chief, it is just plain
Chief!” But I said, “If my Dad heard me calling you anything but Mr., he
would bust my behind good and proper!” The Chief smiled and said, “Look
son, you are in the Navy now and my official title is Chief. Your Dad is
not here and the Navy has different rules. Trust me, you do not dishonor
me by calling me Chief. It took me a lot of years of Naval Service for
me to earn this title and I wear it with pride. Do you understand?” “Yes
sir,” I replied smartly. “Have a great day Chief,” as I sauntered down
the passageway having received a new life lesson in my early Navy
career. Nine years later, I became a Chief Petty Officer and bore the
name with distinct pride. Two years later, I was commissioned as a
Warrant Officer. Guess what, my name became: Mr. Rotruck.