My Path To The Naval Academy

Gary L. Snyder '55

I grew up in Josephine, a small town in western Pennsylvania with State Route 119 as the only street in town. While a senior in nearby Indiana High School, I applied to my congressman for an appointment to the Naval Academy. I cannot say that I had a long time longing to go to the Naval Academy, but the colorful brochures describing the exciting life of a midshipman in rich detail had the desired effect; they had produced in me a strong desire to attend the Academy. Shortly thereafter there was an interview with the Honorable John P. Saylor, U.S. Representative from my Congressional District in Pennsylvania. I do not recall many details from the interview but I thought I passed this hurdle because I received a letter telling me to report for a physical examination.

About one-hundred twenty applicants showed up. I was pretty skinny and scrawny as a high school senior and I recall being impressed with robust appearance of my fellow applicants.
The next hurdle was a very long written exam. About sixty people showed up for that. I assume that meant that about fifty percent of the original applicants failed the physical exam. The examination was the longest examination I had ever encountered. I remember the need to go to the bathroom and wondering if I should take my exam with me to keep it safe rather than leave it unattended. I decided not to do so because it might be thought that I was planning to meet someone who would help me with the test.

After a few months I was informed by telephone that I came out in first place. This was followed by a Certificate of Appointment to The Academy, Class of 1955, and several letters, all of which looked very important to a not very worldly teenager. Getting a nomination, or the need for one, was never discussed.

I would very soon graduate from high school with the Class of 1950. I had an appointment to USNA with the Class of 1955, so the immediate question was what to do with the intervening year. This was a very important decision for me. Money was tight and going to college for a year would be a hardship, although that was strongly considered. Working for a year certainly was an option but it did not appeal to me very much. After some searching discussions with my mother and other people whom I admired, and with all the wisdom a sixteen year old could muster, I decided to enlist in the Navy, not tell anyone that I had an appointment to the Academy, and serve as an enlisted man for a year. It seemed to me that doing so would provide very useful experience. When it became appropriate, I would then let it be known that I had the appointment.

Shortly thereafter I enlisted and was shipped off to Recruit Training in Newport, Rhode Island. That train ride was my one and only trip in a Pullman car. Pretty impressive, I thought.

Boot camp started out all right but there were unappealing aspects. I have a vivid memory of a Third Class Petty Officer with a dingy bucket, a can of metal polish, and a rag. He worked very diligently making a very shiny spot on the bucket, about the size of a quarter. He held it up for inspection and then told me he wanted me to make the sport go all over the bucket. Things like that plus the growing concern everyone had over the upcoming week of mess duty, convinced me I really did not like Boot Camp.

One night I sought out my Company Commander and told him I had an appointment to the Naval Academy. I fully expected this to result in my transfer to the Naval Academy Prep School, and it did. I was transferred the next day.

NAPS was just two blocks up the hill from my recruit barracks, so I packed my sea bag and trudged up the hill. I recall that there was no great enthusiasm for a Seaman Recruit of three weeks becoming a student. There was a system in place whereby you could validate individual courses by scoring high on an exam about the course. I had just graduated from a good high school where I stood very high in my class, and was able to validate all my courses. So now not only did the school administrators have a Seaman Recruit, which I sensed was not highly thought of, they had a Seaman Recruit who did not have to attend any classes. Clearly this was not good. I knew I should stay below the radar and started attending some classes. Then I was told to devote time to tutoring others. This really appealed to me and I put my heart into it. Never in my life had I encountered that type of responsibility. I was pretty sure that doing this and attending some classes would keep me invisible. I have often wondered if I am the only person to go to NAPS as a Seaman Recruit.

There were at least three things which were very out of the ordinary before I finally got to USNA. One event related to the Navy’s practice (then) of importing bus loads of young women to mix with the recruits each Saturday night at a dance in a large gymnasium. The recruits had to march in company formation to the gym and some companies would march by our barracks. It quickly dawned on me that I had jumpers with a Seaman Recruit stripe, which, with a bit of imagination, should get me into these dances too. So I, and as many guys as I had jumpers for, would put them on and hide in the bushes outside our barracks. Then when a company of recruits marched by headed for the dance, we would fall in with them and join the fun.

We had to be a bit careful when leaving to assure we formed up with a company of recruits which would march past our barracks, but we managed. When we got there, we would fade away into the bushes and then into our barracks. This all ended when I was administratively promoted to Seaman Apprentice. I recall thinking at the time that this was a big deal.

The second event occurred at a very dressy dance toward the end of the academic year. At the end of the dance I accidentally tore my date’s ball gown off at the waist. We were going up stairs to the cloak room on the second deck. I clumsily tramped on the hem of her gown. She continued up the ladder. Her gown, from the waist down, stayed behind. Aside from the visual display available to those in the immediate area, I thought it remarkable how a bunch of girls descended on Anne and made off with her to the ladies room, and then in just a few minutes had her all pinned together, looking as if nothing had happened.

The third event occurred after we moved NAPS to the old Tome School in Maryland at the end of the academic year. The place needed a good field day, for sure. The building had many large, double hung windows, most of which had counter balances which were no longer functional. One day while washing a window, the upper sash came crashing down, pinning the little finger on my right hand between the two sashes. After freeing up my finger, one of the petty officers took me to the infirmary where it was decreed that the finger was broken.

The infirmary was located in a former hospital building which was just being reopened as a hospital after years of neglect. There I was, an injured sailor. I quickly became a patient and was admitted to the hospital. I thought it was overkill, but it was good duty. I did not have to do anything and had at least one long weekend.

One day I was told to put on my pajamas and get into bed, ready for inspection. I was the only patient in the ward. The inspecting officer and his entourage filed in and came to my bed. After just a few moments of small talk he asked me why I was a patient. I held up my right hand with the heavily bandaged finger and said, “Sir, I broke my little finger.” The inspecting officer was good, I thought. He did not laugh, chuckle, or show any emotion. He asked how it happened and left the ward. Within two hours I was discharged.

As they say, everything else is history.