Blame vs Ownership

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ljqra3BcqWM

Jocko does a fantsstic job here of explaining the concept of extreeme ownership in a way that everyone can understand.  You don't have to be ex-military or a former Navy SEAL to be able to understand and even put yourself in his shoes that fateful night.  He goes on to say that these moments are part of life, for all of us.  We all have them--if you haven't yet, you will.  Here is one of mine.

Like Jocko, I was an officer in the US Navy, and like him I was part of an elite group.  Unlike the SEALs, my elite group were engineers, members of the naval nuclear propulsion community.  The SEALs brought death and destruction to the enemy; we made steam.  They were tough as nails, able to accomplish any mission, regardless of difficulty.  We were not only smart sailors, but also nearly 100% smart-ass sailors, quick with a joke and even quicker to verbally slam someone who deserved it.  And maybe a few who didn't.

But enough of that.  For better or for worse, I never saw combat, so right from the start my story is nowhere near the level of Jocko's story.  No one died, or even got injured.  But it was quite serious all the same.

First a little background.  The US Navy's nuclear propulsion program is run by fairly young officers and enlisted, and it is administered by a group in the Energy Department called Naval Reactors.  Generally speaking, there are three types of enlisted working as nukes:  mechanics, electricians, and electronics techs.  When I was in the program, discussions like this were "among us" only.  It was striclty forbidden to disclose any of this, so I never discussed it with anyone who was not a fellow navy nuke.  These days, however, it has mostly been declassified.  There are plenty of websites, including sites by US government offices, that serve up lots of general information, and more than a few details.  Having said that, it should not be surprising that these are pressurized water reactors . . . thus they contain water.  The water in the reactors ain't just plain old tap water. There are some strict chemistry controls that must be met by the fill water and maintained during operation.  To ensure this happens, a select few mechanics are assigned the job of engineering laboratory technician, or ELT.  The ELTs will periodically draw a sample from the reactor water (yes, it is radioactive, so care must be taken) and analyze it.  That analysis tells the ELT what chemicals must be added to maintain the prescribed chemsistry.  One ELT is usually on watch at any given time, and he or she wlll request permission from the watch officer to add chemicals.  That is the context of the incident.

On a good day, there might be little or nothing going on in the engine room (by which I refer to the entire engineering plant . . . actually one of four engineering plants in the ship).  You are able to follow a routine, plan ahead, and get everything done with little drama or stress.  On a bad day, there could be so much chaos/chaotic activity that keeping up with everything that is going on requires the watch officer to do some serious multi-tasking.   I should say "busy day" instead of "bad day".  Jocko had a "bad day".  We were blessed in that respect.  So this one particular day was BUSY.  I sometimes worked a single four-hour shift, other times two shiftts in a row.  The incident happened on a day when I was working a double.  Soooo many things were going on, and I managed to stay on top of all of them.  It may not seem like much, but imagine standing in one spot for eight hours straight, talking about complicated systems and evolutions, making sure that everythig got done, got done right, and got done safely.  No food.  No drinks.  No bathroom breaks.  Just a steady stream of people whose hearts were in the right place, no question about that . . . but about whom "trust, but verify" applied.  Always.  It was not "go do your work", but rather "prove to me that no one will be injured before I grant permission to do it".  People could be injured or killed if we screwed something up.  For example, allowing work to start on an elecrical system, only to have someone energize that system, inadvertently and unknowingly electrocuting the electrician doing the work.  If we released radioacitiviy into the environment, we would surely make the evening news and give the ship, naval nuclear propulsion, and even the entire navy a black eye--especially if any civilians were negatively impacted.

So what went wrong?  Chemistry.  Just before my shift ended, the on-watch ELT came to me and reported out-of-spec chemistry.  He was fairly senior and had a lot of experience, so I was surprised by his report.  I asked him how that happened, and he told me that he had been really busy and had missed an earlier required sample.  That missed sample was the one that would have headed off the issue, since it would have led the ELT to add chemicals.  He stressed the importance of immediately adding chemicals to get us back in spec.  I agreed, so the brief discussion was ended.  I sent him off to take care of it, while I reported the problem up the chain of command.  Since my replacement was on scene and prepared to take over, I was summoned to a ready room to answer sme questions about the incident.

I was a little nervous as I walked up to the hangar deck and located the designated space.  As I entered I saw more people than I expected; some I knew, and some I had never seen before.  I was an O-2 (LTjg), and they were mostly O-4 (LCDR).  If I recall correctly, the questioning was begun by an O-4 whom I knew pretty well.  If anyone in that room could be said to be on my side, I thought it would be this guy.  He asked me to explain the problem and how it happened, which I did in just a few seconds.  Then an unfamiliar O-4 spoke up, asking me who was responsible for the error.  This was the momemt that Jocko would describe many years later as extreme ownership.  I did not have to think about it for long, no more than about a second.  I responded, "It was my fault."  The unfamiliar officer challenged me on that, pointing out that the on-watch ELT is in charge of and responsible for keeping an eye on chemistry.  I  agreed but added that I as the watch officer retained overall responsibility for eveything that went on in the plant.  Again, "The fault was mine."  He challenged me again, seeming (to me, at least) to suggest that this really was the ELT's fault.  At this point in the exchange I dug in my heels a bit and insisted that, although mistakes were made by others, I was in charge.  The plant was mine for those eight hours.  It was my job to not let the ELT forget a sample, and the busy schedule that day did not excuse my failure.  That ended the questioning, and I was dismisssed.  I did not say it, but I did not want to throw this ELT under the bus; he was a good guy who made an honest (and rare) mistake.  Besides, he was not the only one who got busy and forgot--I did, too.

I do not know what was discussed behind closed doors after I left.  To this day I have never heard any more about this incident.  I do know that both the ELT and I stayed on the watch schedule.  I kept doing my job, he kept doing his  . . . and neither of us ever again missed a sample or had out-of-spec water.