“Ensign, you’re going to stand right here and watch that boat,” my captain ordered me, “and you’re not going anywhere until they’ve moved away from the ship.”“Yes sir,” I replied and dutifully took my position at the rail to watch the small boat come alongside our ship and simulate planting a bomb as part of a scheduled drill. It was all very logical—the captain was a direct sort of man, and he did not trust the small boat not to ding up the side of his vessel. Our ship’s participation in the base security drill was limited to serving as the target, and this was a fairly easy task for me as a newly minted in-port officer-of-the-day—make sure they do not scrape our paint. Check. It unfolded as planned: The boat came alongside, its crew placed the “bomb” (a sticker), and they pulled away. As I turned to leave, the captain approached again, this time with four or five civilians in tow. “Why don’t you stop wasting time,” he asked, “and see if you can actually find some real work to do?” This type of over-the-top, public mistreatment of his junior officers was typical of this man, and I was unfazed by it. “Yes, sir,” I responded, as the captain began walking away with his visitors—presumably a very distinguished group if the commanding officer himself was escorting them. One of the civilians lingered and approached me as I turned to leave. He smiled and extended his hand, which I shook. “Now you know how not to treat people when you get there,” he said.