The Pacific Coast, baby.
I just spent two weeks in southern California. It was for work for the Marines and no, I didn’t go to any beach parties or visit Mexico. But I did eat some Loveboat sushi. And I did splash my toes in the Pacific Ocean and caught a glorious sunset or three. (Yes, I do like sunset walks on the beach. Even with my Frankenfoot.)
This whole trip was, well, a trip for me. I kept returning to the fact that things felt different wearing silver oak leaves. Silver oak leaves, you say? Why, yes. Didn’t you know? Let’s recap:
After spending nearly my whole Reserve career as a Major, I was finally promoted on 1 January this year. Thing is, I wasn’t sure exactly when I’d be promoted. We select a whole chunk of officers for the year and then spend the next twelve months promoting a certain number. Usually, it’s the whole chunk divided by 12, but not always, hence the uncertainty. Regardless, there I sat on the first day of 2024, in my pajamas, technically now a Lieutenant Colonel. To say it was a relief is an understatement. I honestly wasn’t sure I’d ever be promoted and I quietly considered the reality of terminal Major retiring at 20. It hadn’t occurred to me I could stay in longer. Now, I’m allowed to serve until 28 years.
I didn’t want to make a big deal about my promotion, not really. But also… I did. Lieutenant Colonel is a big deal. It’s the rank of squadron commanding officers. It’s the “lonely at the top” rank. It’s the silver hair, silver leaves, sunset phase of most military careers. As a Reservist, I knew if I wanted a promotion ceremony, it was up to me to make it happen. I thought a small ceremony at Stonehenge would be pretty cool. World Heritage site, close to home, English-y vibes. When it turned out to be circa eighteen hundred British pounds sterling for the inner-stones-group-tour privilege, I looked elsewhere. And then realized I knew Marines at the U.S. Embassy in London. When I asked, they delivered. In mid-February, surrounded by an intimate group of family and friends, I was promoted in the Great Seal Hall of the Embassy. My husband and son pinned one shoulder of my dress blue jacket and my twin sister and daughter pinned the other. Mom and Dad flew over, as did one of my best friends. My in-laws came, my sister-in-law took the train, and a dozen friends came out. After my short speech (I nearly cried), we all ascended to the fifth floor and ate pizza and drank drinks while watching the sun set over London. It went exactly as I thought it would. Which is grand, considering it may very well be my last promotion. And I’m okay with that.
Back to SoCal.
The power dynamics had shifted. I had been used to the in-the-middle rank of an O-4, comfortable conversing with Captains and Colonels (how’s that for consonance?). But now I was returning more salutes than I gave, even factoring in all the Distinguished Visitors that rotated through the large exercise I was supporting: three stars, four stars; Army, Navy, Marine Corps stars; NATO stars, Allied stars (and even a visit from a senior-ranking civilian, complete with entourage and motorcade). Most of my colleagues recognized that I’d been promoted and congratulated me. Which felt nice. Most of the others (largely Army) didn’t know I had recently pinned on; I was just another Lieutenant Colonel. There’s an element of “fake it ‘til you make it,” but I realized I felt comfortable in my new rank. Like, now I’ve actually got the experience to back up my words. Even when I didn’t know the answer, I knew where to get it. Many people, military and civilian, saw the silver and wandered up to ask me random questions. Which I took in stride. It turns out, I like where I’m at in my career. Plus, an O-5 paycheck is no joke and I was happy to be working again, especially in sunny California.
I’m not sure what my military future holds. I’d like to stay in for another three years so my retirement pay works out. That puts me at 21 years. The opportunity to stay until 28 years has given me freedoms that hadn’t been there before. For instance, the freedom to say no to a billet that, while good for my career, might not be good for my family. I no longer have the up-or-out promotion monkey on my back. That’s a powerful feeling. I’ll keep the doors for promotion open, but as I’ve been counseled by senior Reserve officers, I’m in charge of my destiny. I’m looking at options. Ideally, my unit will find the funding to bring me on for a year. Ideally, I’ll get selected for top level school after that. Ideally, I’ll be selected for a fellowship or placement at a fulfilling branch post-PME. But I’ll just have to see what happens.
Meanwhile, I’ll be dreaming of the Pacific waves crashing on the sandy shores of sunny SoCal while I sip a cup of coffee in cold, rainy England. There are many things I love about my adopted country, but the dreary winter is not one of them.
Until next time, Cali…
Captain Leatherneck 