It’s ironic that the ETSU basketball team has chosen to kneel in protest of 400 years of white suppression, especially when all but two of the players come from outside East Tennessee and probably know little of its history.   So, if such protests are to be made, it seems quite proper to note some historical facts concerning why such a demonstration is ill-founded in this area.   Although Tennessee was considered a Confederate state, East Tennessee was decidedly 70% pro-Union, even supplying soldiers to the Union states, operating the Underground Railroad here to free slaves to the North, publishing the nation’s first emancipation newspaper in Jonesborough some 40 years before the Civil War, and responsible for disrupting Confederate operations in this area.

One student at a recent rally, in support of the team’s kneeling, stated that ‘kneeling isn’t a form of disrespect toward veterans, but if they want respect, they have to earn it’, and ‘that the [team’s] sacrifices are the same as those of veterans’.   Despite assertions to the contrary, kneeling is a sign of disrespect toward the flag.   Title 36, Subtitle I, Part A, Section 301 of the United States Code states that “all…persons present should face the flag and STAND (my emphasis) at attention”.   The National Flag Foundation says “STAND (again my emphasis), place your right hand over your heart”.   The flag is considered to be a living entity, emblematic of over 200 years of our history, including those who died for others.   So, veterans’ objections to kneeling are well-founded.

As a submarine veteran, I take offense at such degrading statements regarding veterans.   All military personnel learn a strict discipline that the outside world would do well to emulate.   When you see a Navy submariner wearing their ‘dolphins’, that represents a person who has endured psychological screening, numerous physical qualifying tests such as high pressure chambers and claustrophobia testing, confinement underwater for months at a time, and possessing an intimate knowledge of the entire ship (boat to submariners).   And, unlike the Jules Verne depictions, there aren’t any windows on subs to view the outside world.    

Escape from a submarine in distress can be disastrous if one has a cavity in their mouth, potentially exploding the jaw from entrapment of high pressure air there while escaping.   Qualification on a submarine involves learning every valve and system onboard in the event that you’re the only one trapped in a flooding space, passing a written test, a walk-thru examination with an officer, and a final examination board (similar to orals), essentially comparable to an Associate’s degree in college.   You learn all this after standing your mandatory watches.    

I spent a total of 450 days underwater in service to my country, including every summer and Christmas for 3 years, missing those precious times with my family.   My wife never knew if I was alive until I resurfaced months later, since outgoing messages are forbidden on top secret missions.   She was allowed to send me 10 words at a time during my patrol (total of 40 words), and I wrote 10-12 advance letters in port to her before submerging, dated one week apart, to be mailed weekly by our Chaplain, so that my wife could receive something from me.   

I nearly died while on my ship’s 5th top secret mission, delirious for 4 days with hardly any medical treatment.   In my case, all they had for my pneumonia relapse was penicillin.   They won’t abandon a mission to save your life, so they treat you as best they can.   Another man before me did die on board, had to be wrapped in plastic, and was placed in the freezer.   A friend of mine committed suicide after receiving a ‘Dear John’ letter just before submerging, as he couldn’t face the months-long underwater seclusion of another patrol.

For risking my life in service to my country, I received an extra $105 per month of hazardous duty pay.   Submarines cannot carry fresh food, so there were no salads, no fresh fruits or vegetables, no butter except for the officers, no milk, and I had Kool-Aid and coffee to drink.  One patrol our desalination equipment wasn’t performing properly, so all of our drinks had salt in them.   No aerosol containers were allowed because of conflicts with onboard monitoring equipment, so shaving had to be done with a brush or, in my case, with bar soap.   I was near the height limit, so I constantly bumped my head into all sorts of equipment, back-up equipment, or back-ups for the back-ups.   

These are but a few examples of what life is like on board a submarine, and it isn’t easy with the isolation.   Local businesses periodically thank me for my service, but that idea seems to give the university problems.   What I endured in service to my country is nothing compared to many others who gave their lives, only to be ridiculed by improper gestures or statements.   I would ask what the kneeling students expect to gain by possibly alienating any veterans in the audience or anyone else that objects.   Why not do things that bring people together rather than divide?  Is 50% attendance what the team or the university desires?   ETSU has always sought local attendance at games, yet the basketball players and coaches have typically come from everywhere else but here – hardly any local recruiting.   I’m proud to have two degrees from this university, but this isn’t the university that I graduated from some 40 years ago.