Ceremonial Slip
Retired Navy Capt. John Wallace of Kapolei, Hawaii, has lived with his wife, Ann, on an island in the Pacific since his retirement, but cannot  recall ever having been introduced  as “Captain Oahu.”

Under the base realignment and closure program, the sprawling naval base at Roosevelt Roads, P.R., has been identified for consideration in the near future. During its heyday, “Roosey Roads,” as it was known to several generations of U.S. Navy servicemembers and their families, was one of the largest naval facilities in the world, encompassing more than 100 miles of paved roads and more than 30 tenant commands.

During my tour of duty in Puerto Rico in the early 1980s, the senior naval officer on the island was Commodore Diego E. “Duke” Hernandez, Commander Naval Forces Caribbean. A much-decorated naval aviator, Hernandez was the first native Puerto Rican to command an aircraft carrier (USS John F. Kennedy) and the first to attain flag rank.

The respect and sense of humor he brought to his position put him in great demand as a guest speaker for the frequent change-of-command ceremonies for tenant commands on the island. Most gracious in accommodating these requests, he lent his presence to as many of these important occasions as his busy schedule allowed. I attended a number of these colorful naval ceremonies, but one in particular stands out in my memory.

These ceremonies always were well attended—by military members and their families as well as very distinguished members of the civilian community—and there was a standing-room-only crowd at this particular event.

The audience assembled on the tarmac on what was a typically clear, sunny island day to witness the traditional passing of responsibility of command and to hear the admiral’s expressions of gratitude to the outgoing CO and his welcome to the new skipper. The sequence of events for these ceremonies is steeped in tradition and culminates in the introduction of the principal speaker by the outgoing CO.

When it came time, the visibly nervous departing CO, having undergone stressful preparations to ensure everything went off without a hitch, took the microphone. With the solemn dignity appropriate to the occasion, made his introduction.

“Ladies and gentleman,” he said, “It is my honor to introduce Commander Naval Forces Caribbean, Commodore Diego Garcia.”

An embarrassed hush came over the crowd, followed by a low murmur of questions mixed with muffled titters as everyone realized what the CO had said. The oblivious officer stepped back from the microphone to make way for the man he had just introduced as a small piece of British-owned real estate in the middle of the Indian Ocean.

Hernandez stepped forward with the slightest of smiles and, looking out at the large crowd, waited until order returned. Then, in a firm voice that carried all the way to the back row of the now squirming audience, the commodore opened his speech with a line that most likely did not appear in his prepared notes: “No man is an island.”

The awkwardness of the moment gave way to a chorus of laughter, and Hernandez went on with the remainder of his remarks, including high praise for the accomplishments of the slightly bewildered officer, who probably did not become aware of his memorable gaffe until the post-ceremony reception at the club.