Memories of Higgins: This Isn't a Game

When you have access to one of the most powerful, most accurate, and most deadly weapons systems in the world, it’s very easy to think that you are merely at the controls of a powerful video game device.

How easy it is for many of us to forget that every click, every button press, and every hit of a switch can spell the difference between the destruction of a hostile contact and the death of yourself and your crewmates, or, worse yet, the death of innocent, unwitting civilians.

Being a CIC operator is not a game. You don’t just place the cursor on the thing you want to blow up and press the button like you’re Shiva. It’s not as simple as sitting in front of the screen for hours on end and waiting for a blip to show up, either. It’s a job where constant vigilance is a requirement. You are counted on to keep the ship and all aboard it safe, by detecting and engaging any hostile presence that may approach. Therefore, slacking off for us in the CIC is a big no-no.

As members of the ship’s combat nerve center, we are expected to maintain the utmost level of self-discipline, teamwork, and focus. Along with our mates on the watch, we make sure that any threat is identified and properly countered long before they can engage the ship and endanger her and her occupants. That is why we train with rigorous intensity to maintain our edge. Reliant as we may be on the most advanced technology, we must not forget the importance of the human factor in their use. DO NOT LET THE SYSTEM WORK FOR YOU.

Things have become… far more hectic for CIC operators than before, no thanks to this war we’ve suddenly found ourselves in. Forget everything you saw in the movies about calm and collected crewmen at the consoles. Those people were dealing with one or two subs at worst, perhaps four destroyers and a cruiser if the director was going for ‘dramatic flair’. No more; out there right now, expect to see more blips than you can ever hope to imagine seeing when you signed up for this rating. Expect to feel the urge to fire everything at the first sign of trouble. Don’t laugh at the character that looks like he’s pissing himself while his finger twitches with the need to fire that ESSM or launch that ASROC. You’ll be in his shoes at least once or twice once you’re on our current frontlines.

Have you been living under a rock, sailor, or are you just foolishly optimistic? Please don’t tell me you haven’t seen the news, and all the attrition rates the Navy is currently suffering. Sailor, can you please explain to the class how our oh-so beloved technological advantage is working for us so far against the Abyssals?

Advanced targeting capabilities? Abyssal returns can hop like frogs and ruin data-linking. Standoff range? That works ONLY if you REALLY KNOW where they’re coming from. Precision firepower? I sure hope you still remember your naval history, but even with our GPS-guided munitions, it would be hard for our current destroyers and cruisers to even DENT an Abyssal dreadnaught, even with critical hits to vital sections.

You see, people, even with all our advances in military science and technology, we still have a hard time dealing with these threats. These days, you can’t rely on the AEGIS system alone; it’s not perfect, and it never will be. What matters, however, is that you learn how to play up the system’s strengths, in order to better utilize your ship’s weaponry against the new enemy.

Let me reiterate this: even with all the firepower of a Burke or a Tico at your disposal, there will come at a time when you will feel utterly helpless while being caught in a serious pinch. At that time, you will learn something that you cannot learn in the classroom; you will learn how it is to feel true fear. Fear for your ship, fear for your crewmates, and fear for yourself. You will watch helplessly as friendly blips disappear from radar, one after another, and the radio chatter slowly goes silent as your friends sink to the depths. At that time, you will understand how it truly feels to be unable to do anything to stop the onslaught.

Unlike many of our crewmates, we sit at our stations, in our protected CIC room, nestled within a heavily-protected part of the ship. We monitor everything that goes on within and without the ship, on alert or not. In the relative safety of the CIC, we can either sit by and see our mates on the outside fall one after another because of our carelessness or overreliance on the hardware, or we can work together to make sure we survive to fight another day. Learn what you can, people; the fight is going to be long, and our role has become crucial more than ever.

-- Chief Operations Specialist Nancy Livingston was an Operations Specialist Second Class during the LA engagement, working as part of the CIC’s senior team. Despite having survived the engagement largely unharmed, she blamed herself for the catastrophic damage sustained by Higgins, and for the death of some of her crewmates. Instead of joining up with another crew after the battle, Livingston opted to work as a CIC trainer, believing that teaching a new breed of CIC officers and crew will atone for her self-proclaimed shortcomings. Nonetheless, she still suffers from her self-guilt, and she continues to receive post-traumatic stress medication.--