50 Stories for 50 Years | Post 42
This week the Class of 2027 is making its service selections. The photos will be everywhere on social media. Midshipmen in their uniforms, envelopes in hand, classmates cheering.
It’s taking me straight back to my own.
I was amazed at the midshipmen who knew on day one which service they wanted. Most of them had their eyes on the sky. Almost all of them wanted to be pilots.
Women had entered the Naval Academy in 1976. What we could do after graduation was still unclear. Every professional development lecture covered career paths closed to us. That gap fed much of the tension between men and women in those early years.
We had few pictures to dream from. Women had begun earning Navy wings in 1974, but the numbers were small. We rarely saw them. I was in awe of the women who envisioned roles so few women had filled.
In my junior year, I started thinking through my service choices. I decided to dip a toe into aviation and joined the training squadron at USNA, called VTNA. Over Christmas break of my first class year, I finished ground school and some in-air instruction. Then I headed to my solo flight.
I was so naive. My instructor walked me to the plane and did not climb into the back seat. I stared at him and nervously asked
“Aren’t you going to be in the back seat?”
“No, Mary. This is a solo flight.”
I gulped. I took off, did a few loops around the airfield, and then I landed. The thrill came after.
Then came the tradition. My instructor cut my uniform tie in half. Cutting clothing after a first solo is a long-standing aviation rite of passage. It marks independence and the end of needing an instructor beside you.
I was ready to select NFO, Naval Flight Officer. I told those closest to me.
Then some older men who mentored me took me aside. They advised me to delay. You have been competing head-to-head with your classmates, they said. Perhaps this first job could be a chance to step out of the current and serve where women in the Navy have historically served.
Read in 2026, almost 50 years later, that advice can sound archaic and protective. I trusted those voices. I took it to heart.
I delayed my decision to fly. On service selection night, I chose a staff position as protocol officer at Subic Bay in the Philippines. One of my classmates said, “Mary at Subic? That’s like a priest walking down 42nd Street in New York City.”
I went anyway. I had a wonderful time. I learned much about the Pacific Fleet and cultural communication.
But the bug to fly stayed.
This week, midshipmen are making some big decisions about service selection. Some are hearing advice they didn’t ask for. Some are hearing it from people they trust. I hope they listen well. I hope they also discover what they want.
Part 2: I go after the wings again.