The invaluable rites of military boot camp

Jeff Nelligan • July 18, 2022

Published in The San Diego Union, August 1, 2022

”Constant, unceasing pressure – which leads to failure, then recovery. And resilience.”

Annapolis, Maryland - The academic year has yet to begin for most of the class of 2026 but here a select group of young men and women are already grinding through the third week of their “college” experience, complete with obstacle courses, M4 carbines and fully-clothed plunges into the Chesapeake Bay; shaved heads for the males and females left with a little more.

Plebe Summer at the U.S. Naval Academy, the first days on a voyage lasting at least nine years for future Naval and Marine officers serving on the oceans of the world. The stated purpose of Plebe Summer is “a demanding indoctrination period intended to transition the candidates from civilian to military life.” In fact, this describes the core of all military boot camps for officers and enlisted, a invaluable rites of passage for all those who wear the uniform.

In an age of near unlimited choices for young people, every plebe - and enlisted recruit - made this choice; each understands they will be subjected to physical and mental pressure that is unfathomable to their non-military peers. In doing so, these young people will contribute to the defense of our society and equally important, strengthen American civic life.

The path to service

By any measure the plebes are a different breed. Approximately 16,600 applied to the class of 2026, an application process that includes a full medical exam, hearing and eye tests, physical fitness assessment and minimum four in-person interviews on top of high grades and test scores. For enlisted service members, they are among the only 23 percent of their peers qualified to join; the remaining 77 percent have health and educational shortcomings and law enforcement records that deem them unsuitable to serve their nation.

The key component of plebe summer is the constant yelling from the Academy upperclassmen assigned as “detailers”, elsewhere known as the feared Drill Sergeant. As I know from my sons (USNA and USMA, classes of 2018 and 2022), even former high school athletes accustomed to barking coaches find this incessant shouting and correction unnerving; there is never a right answer, nothing is good enough. If your folded socks face the wrong way in a drawer during an inspection, you fail and the whole unit pays a price.

Some of these kids have rarely or never been yelled at; now it comes in hard and fast. “You fail so much that you learn how to fail and quickly get back up,” said one of my sons.

“Unceasing pressure” and the All-Volunteer force

None of this is surprising to anyone who has served in the military, which since 1973 has been an all-volunteer force. Indeed, the plebe ordeal is nearly identical to that faced by new Marines at Parris Island, “Coasties” at Cape May, NJ, and airmen at Lackland Air Force Base. The very first day at Fort Benning’s Basic Combat Training, my Army drill sergeant screamed at my platoon, “We’re gonna break you down and build you up so you’re even better!” Three decades later my eldest son heard nearly the exact same words at Naval Officer Candidate School in Newport, RI.

In boot camps everywhere this nonstop all-encompassing system of harsh discipline and ubiquitous authority and the physical and mental tests are designed to force individuals to continually confront and overcome adversity, slowly building loyalty to their comrades, their platoon, their service. USNA Superintendent Admiral Water Carter said it best: “This training, this place, is all about pressure. Constant, unceasing pressure – which leads to failure, then recovery. And resilience.”

Certainly, it’s a hard road but the men and women who walk it have chosen it. For the vast majority, they emerge from the crucible of the service more resolute and disciplined, with a self-awareness that transfers to personal conduct and to the high esteem in which they are held in American civic life.

The end of the beginning

At the end of their first day the plebes struggle with just-learned close-order marching skills and file into the Academy’s Tecumseh Court. Only10 hours into the four long years of Academy life, many look shell-shocked and dejected and some are in tears.

They take the Oath of Office en masse and then march up the granite steps through Bancroft’s huge west-facing wooden doors. The last squad vanishes and then the doors are shut from the inside with a boom; the plebes are now in the total embrace of the Navy. They, like almost all new recruits, won’t see their family members for two months or more.

The indoctrination has begun, the “building up” as my drill sergeant not-so-gently told us. The days and years ahead will require even more grit and fortitude. And the cycle will roll on: Unceasing pressure. Failure. Recovery. Resilience. It’s not for every young person. Nothing hard is.

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Flag duty and the end of 30 years in politics

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. *****