I was standing watch as Petty Officer of the Watch on the quarterdeck of the USS McKee (AS-41). My task: security.

A security alert sounded. I drew my .45 ACP with my right hand and a clip holding five live rounds with my left. Training rounds were blue—these were brass jacketed. That meant one thing: nuclear weapons onboard.

During a security violation, only a handful of people were authorized to move: the Commanding Officer (CO), the Executive Officer (XO), the Weapons Officer (WO), and the Reserve Force (RF). I didn’t need to move. I was already where I was needed.

Just then, an admiral walked up the gangplank.

I extended my left hand toward him. “I’m sorry, sir: security violation.”

He stopped. He knew the protocol. But then he looked to the Officer of the Deck.

The chief waved him on. “It’s alright, Admiral.”

The admiral took two steps.

“It is NOT alright,” I said.

The chief looked at me. “But I’m the OOD.”

I looked back. “And I’m just the Petty Officer of the Watch—and I have the gun.”

The Ordinary Path
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