My Family and the All-Volunteer Force at 50

Jeff Nelligan • August 3, 2023

What it takes

The Baltimore Sun / Commentary

July 31, 2023


Plebe Summer is underway at the U.S. Naval Academy, where 1,184 young men and women grind through the second week of their “college” experience, complete with obstacle courses, firearms and fully-clothed plunges into the Chesapeake Bay.


These determined young people represent one element of the All-Volunteer Force (AVF), which marked its 50th anniversary this year after military conscription ended in 1973. It is one of the most remarkable institutions this nation has ever produced. I should know: My three sons and I are each products of the AVF; we have a combined 34 years of service and counting, from both officer and enlisted ranks.


My middle son endured his Plebe Summer nine years ago and now serves as an engineering officer on a guided missile destroyer in the Pacific. My youngest made it through West Point’s notorious “Beast Barracks” (the U.S. Military Academy’s equivalent of Plebe Summer) and graduated with the U.S. Military Academy class of 2022. My eldest attended Navy Officer Candidate School (OCS) in Newport, Rhode Island, and has deployed to South Korea and on a Pacific tour with an aircraft carrier. And 37 years ago, I attended Basic Combat Training at Fort Benning, Georgia, followed by 14 years in the U.S. Army Reserve and National Guard, ingloriously rising to the rank of corporal.


Eleven million men and women have served in the AVF since 1973, providing the muscle and minds and sweat and blood for three major wars and numerous overseas operations all over the globe. For this, most Americans will summon the reflexive “Thank you for your service.” The fact is the AVF gives most Americans the freedom to be rather indifferent to their military, shifting the burden of the barracks and skies and seas — true public service — to a smaller, self-selected cohort of citizens.


Such service has at its core, the basic values vital to a functioning civic society — personal discipline, teamwork and most of all, accountability. All these behaviors are drilled into every would-be officer and enlisted person from day one.

Boot camp is a nonstop series of physical and mental testing designed to force individuals to confront and overcome adversity. Participants, who come from every corner of America and reflect its demographics, build loyalty to their comrades, their service and their nation. The 62nd U.S. Naval Academy superintendent, Admiral Walter Carter, said it best: “This training, this place, is all about pressure. Constant, unceasing pressure — which leads to failure, then recovery. And resilience.” Or as my Fort Benning drill sergeant put it: “We’re gonna break you down and build you up so you’re even better!”


This training and this environment have measurable benefits. A RAND Corporation study notes that veterans are distinct in “valuable nontechnical skills, such as leadership, decision making, being dependable, and attention to detail.” The vast majority of volunteers emerge from the crucible of the service resolute and with a self-awareness that transfers to personal conduct and to the high esteem in which they are held in American civic life.


It’s no secret the volunteer force today faces challenges, specifically recruiting shortages in the Army, Navy, and Air Force, with a 
strong job market the foremost explanation (though retention numbers are outstanding, with every service exceeding 100% of their goals in 2022).


But the chief reason for recruiting woes?  77 percent of military age youths (17-24) cannot meet basic requirements for service eligibility because of educational shortcomings, drug and disciplinary records, and most of all health problems, mostly obesity.


This is appalling fact should alarm every American. How can it be that nearly eight of ten young men are unqualified for national service? Which prompts another question: How will this cohort find a productive long-term path in the public and private sector? What employers in the trades, retail or white-collar world are clamoring to hire individuals who are so deficient in meeting the basic requirements for sustained civic and economic life?


My middle son (he of Plebe summer) soon assumes his next duty station as a senior officer at a regional recruiting command. He knows full well the current trials of the volunteer world; nonetheless, he’s surprisingly optimistic: “My guys and I will find them.” How does he come to this sunny outlook? Because since he was 17 years of age he has been in environments where obstacles, major and minor, are a part of everyday life, where he has been part of a team that assesses, adapts and advances forward and doesn’t give up. For him, that means selling the military and all of its tangible and intangible benefits.


Recall the mention of those 1,184 plebes sweating it out right now. They represent just eight percent of the more than 14,700 youths who applied to the USNA class of 2027. Certainly the recruiting challenges exist today. But the AVF will endure; there will always be enough sharp and rugged young men and women out there to fill the ranks.

_____________________________

Jeff Nelligan works at FDA and is the author of 
Four Lessons From My Three Sons: How You Can Raise Resilient Kids


ABOUT THE BOOK

Every Dad in America wants to raise a resilient kid. Four Lessons from My Three Sons charts the course.  

Written by a good-natured but unyielding father, this slim volume describes how his off-beat and yet powerful forms of encouragement helped his sons obtain the assurance, strength and integrity needed to achieve personal success and satisfaction. This book isn't 300 pages of pop child psychology or a fatherhood "journey" filled with jargon and equivocation. It's tough and hard and fast. It’s about how three boys made their way to the U.S. Naval Academy, Williams, and West Point – and beyond.
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By Jeff Nelligan January 29, 2026
It's 8:30 a.m. on a humid August Tuesday and I’m on the roof of the U.S. Capitol, the Dome rising 280 feet directly above. In my arms is a stack of thin boxes and I’m navigating a plywood gangplank leading to a rusted 15-foot flagpole. A colleague joins me carrying more boxes. She opens one and hands me a 2’ by 4’ American flag which I affix to the pole’s lanyard, raise and lower quickly, unfasten and hand to her as she hands me another. A third colleague brings out more boxes and retrieves the ones containing flown flags. This little dance continues for three straight hours. Afterwards, my colleagues and I carefully re-fold each flag and affix to it a “Certificate of Authenticity from the Architect of the Capitol” reading “This flag was flown over the U.S. Capitol in honor of____” and fill in the blank: “The Greater Bakersfield, California Chamber of Commerce”…the 80 th birthday of Wilbert Robinson of Bowie, Maryland, proud veteran of the Vietnam War…” We will perform this task for five days a week until Congress returns from recess. This is my very first job in Washington, D.C. and obviously, I have what it takes. *** Flag duty began my 32-year run in politics and government, which ended last week. It included four tours of duty on Capitol Hill working for three Members of Congress, two Presidential appointments serving Cabinet officers in the Departments of State and Health and Human Services, posts at two independent agencies, and a career position at FDA. The jobs were a mix of purely political positions where being on the south side of an election meant cleaning out your desk and getting good at catchy LinkedIn posts – twice that happened - and career federal government stints where the stakes were less exhilarating. *** I worked principally as press secretary and special assistant. The former job, a common D.C. occupation, was transformed in 2008 with the onset of social media, morphing from daily pronouncements of your boss’s wisdom on the issues of the day to rapid-fire postings on the obvious unreasonableness, even cruelties of your opponents. Sound familiar? As for the latter occupational specialty, special assistant, the terms ‘bagman’ or ‘fixer’ are more apt: A guy always two steps behind the principal but always ready to step up and fix whatever problem arose in daily political life. Need a special vegan lunch for Congressman Busybody, White House tour tickets for the Big Bad High volleyball team, or the personal phone number of the executive assistant to a heavy-duty lobbyist? I was your guy. Every leader needs a fixer. Like anyone else who works in D.C., I occasionally participated in a glam political moment – you know, that unique, epic event that would never ever be forgotten in D.C. history Until it was. *** The best part about government life was working for many men and women who were at the top of their game in the D.C. Swamp, one of the toughest arenas on the planet. Their success, from the vantage point of your humble correspondent, was attributable to four simple rules of life. “If you can’t measure it, it didn’t happen.” Every office I was in kept metrics on virtually every aspect of the principal’s week – how many meetings and events attended, X posts, interviews, committee votes, constituent letters, action items completed from memos?! Numbers, numbers, and always keeping score – and always the quest to improve. “Never lose it.” In a lifetime of political jobs, I may have heard a boss raise her or his voice half a dozen times, even during and after major-league setbacks. Self-control was their hallmark. One boss, a powerful House Committee chairman once confided to me, “I’m fine that 80 precent of my job is humoring these guys, no matter how crazy they get.” An equally valuable corollary skill: Humility. The ability of these individuals to admit to colleagues and staff when wrong on a particular issue. Which counterintuitively only upped their long-term credibility. “Something’s always gonna go south.” Always the need for a plan C. Every initiative during an upcoming day was scoured for what elements would interfere and how, if they occurred, they could be ameliorated. Hence, in the rare times when things did go south, there was always preparation in advance for getting to 80 percent of what was needed. “Good is not good enough.” Successful politicians and government leaders – and their staffs – never get complacent. If they do, they’re not long for the Swamp. Everyone is always hustling for the edge. A useful corollary learned from an NCO when I was in the Army: Always have your hand up. Volunteering is at the heart of the hustle, the cheerful willingness to take on the new and unknown and do whatever it takes. *** And that’s how it all started. On the second day of my first congressional tour the Member solicited volunteers “for a fun recess job that’ll get you out of the office.” It was flag duty and from that day onwards my government career could only go up. *****
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