THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, November 19, 1995 TAG: 9511171411
SECTION: COMMENTARY PAGE: J1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: By KERRY DEROCHI, STAFF WRITER
LENGTH: Long : 192 lines
When her husband's ship pulled out to sea last March, Rita Cerda got out her beach chair.
She counted on it being an easy deployment, on the six months passing in a blur of sunny days along the coast and nights spent watching summer movies.
She was, after all, a veteran Navy wife, married for 20 years to a Navy sailor. She'd handled separations before and had survived the tumult of move after move after move.
Rita Cerda was a pro.
Or so she thought.
``We're not going to do this again,'' she said in an interview from her family's home in Portsmouth, before Dave, a chief warrant officer, was to return home on the carrier Theodore Roosevelt.
``That's it. I didn't know it was going to be so hard.''
These are the words that scare Navy leaders.
If a family with a long military history like the Cerdas feels the stress of deployment, what effect does the separation have on a less-experienced sailor? How do you convince a young enlisted man or woman that a career in the service is worth the sacrifice?
These are tough questions for a service built on a proud tradition of going to sea, a tradition that has been scrutinized in recent years as sailors are being called on to spend more time than ever away.
At stake is not simply the comfort of a ship's crew, but the readiness of a fleet. At what point does the service lose its edge?
Deployments have long been touted in recruitment posters as a chance to go to exotic ports, a way for teenagers from Iowa to see and experience the world.
But deployments, at times exciting, take their toll on even the most stalwart of military families. What may seem fun to an 18-year-old seaman becomes tiresome to a 30-year-old first class with children.
It's an issue that cuts across all service branches. Marine and Army families may watch service members leave for as many as 13 months. Some crews in the Air Force are gone 75 percent of the time.
And, the numbers have gotten worse in recent years.
The military drawdown has forced the individual service branches to do more with less. The reductions in both people and equipment have come at a time when the post Cold War world has experienced an unprecedented number of regional crises. Time and time again, the military has been asked to respond to conflicts around the world, such as Somalia, Haiti and the Cuban refugee crisis.
The sailors, soldiers, airmen and Marines have paid the price.
Last year, family members of sailors attached to the Inchon battle group cried foul when the ships were sent to Haiti less than two weeks after returning from a six-month deployment. The crew stayed for eight weeks before being allowed to come home.
The frenetic pace continued, and later drew the ire of the commanding officer of one Norfolk-based destroyer who testified before Congress that the long stretches from home were taking a toll on his crew. He estimated his ship had spent 18 of 24 months out of port.
Late last year, faced with a growing sense that the military may lose the very people it wanted to retain, the Defense Department created a task force to look into quality of life issues, including the increased deployments.
The task force, made up of retired men and women from all ranks of service, said the rapid pace of deployments were a key factor in the demise of morale for military members and a threat to the service retention.
``Personnel tempo is an intensely human problem,'' wrote the task force members in their report. ``The most important finding was not discovered in regulations, policies or politics, but in the strained and weary faces of countless service members.
``These people do their jobs with an encouraging enthusiasm, but at what cost?''
The report identified three key changes in the last 10 years as having dramatically changed the way the military does business. The number of service members has dropped 28 percent to only 1.5 million. The forces are now based in the continental United States, which means more deployments are necessary to maintain a world presence. In addition, the conflicts have increased both in number and complexity, requiring more training.
``Most deployments are accepted in stride by professional service men and women,'' the report said. ``What needs to be controlled are the deployments outside the necessary which cause unanticipated, long-term burdens on military members and their families.''
Already, there are signs the Navy is trying to reduce the strain of its routine shore/sea rotations.
In January, Chief of Naval Operations Adm. Jeremy ``Mike'' Boorda announced the training schedules were being adjusted to pare down the number of days sailors spend away from home.
This summer, Adm. William J. Flanagan reorganized the Atlantic Fleet to ease the crunch on the ships that were being forced to pull extra duty outside of their normal battle group deployments. Flanagan, commander in chief of the Norfolk-Based Atlantic Fleet, created a new command to handle operations in the Caribbean.
``For the most part things are getting better,'' said David Borne, master chief of the Atlantic Fleet. ``It's been a long time coming but some of the things being put in place now are being geared to make it easier or to help people cope.
``I think we're trying to do better by our people.''
Borne, who has completed 10 deployments in his 25 years of service, credits Navy Family Services and the rest of the military community for helping sailors and their families make it through the separation. He questions whether the service has lost people because of the pressure brought on by deployments.
In the end, going to sea is what the Navy is all about.
``It's a good life, it's more than making a living,'' Borne said. ``It's knowing you're making a difference for the better, not just for you, but for a lot of people.''
That's what has kept Rita and Dave Cerda a Navy family for more than 20 years and what will likely keep them there in the future.
Dave Cerda, fire marshal on the Roosevelt, joined as an 18-year-old from California. His first duty station was in Norfolk. He met Rita in a shopping mall in Portsmouth and they were married a year later.
Since then, the couple has moved their three children to Cuba and to Spain. They've been stationed in Charleston, S.C., and relocated to Hampton Roads several times.
The Cerdas settled into a small wooden house off Deep Creek Boulevard, across the street from Rita's parents.
Here, in the living room on the day before homecoming, Rita insists she's had enough of the separations.
In the six months that Dave was gone, her car was stolen at a fast-food restaurant and her oldest son was attacked by a gang of teenagers.
In June, Rita stood alone in the chapel of Alliance Christian School and watched her daughter, Elizabeth, walk down the aisle as an organ played ``Climb Every Mountain.'' Two months later, Rita packed the silver Ford Taurus and drove her eight hours to a small college in Georgia.
``I can handle the big things, it was the little stuff that gets me,'' Rita Cerda said. ``It's when you come home from work and there's no one to tell stuff too. The kids, they listen, but they don't really care. They've got their own lives.
``You have to remember, over the years, Dave and I have gotten closer. He really is my best friend. When you don't have that person to talk to, it's not the same.''
Still, like many Navy couples, both Dave and Rita Cerda insist the military life has made their marriage stronger.
``I think being in the Navy is one of those situations where either the marriage falls apart because you can't handle it, or it makes it better,'' Rita said. ``There's very little in between.
``You have to accept it. It's his job. It's what he chose to do. I knew what I was getting into.'' ILLUSTRATION: Color photo
GARY C. KNAPP
Rita Cerda and her sons, Doug, 9, and Nick, 15, search the faces of
the sailors on the deck of the Theodore Roosevelt in search of the
boys' father, Dave Cerda.
Rita and Doug Cerda wait as Chief Warrent Officer Dave Cerda hugs
Nick, his oldest son. His daughter Elizabeth missed the reunion
because she was at college in Georgia. It will be a couple of more
weeks before Dave sees her.
After the Roosevelt had been home for a few weeks, Dave Cerda had to
go back to sea so the carrier could off-load the munitions it
carried. The second pier-side reunion wasn't as large as the main
one, but it was still emotional. Dave's daughter, Elizabeth came to
town for the weekend, but her father had to go back on the carrier
just hours after she got home. She decided to stay an extra day to
see him. From left, Elizabeth, Doug, Dave, Rita and Nick walk off
the pier for the last time in this deployment.
GARY C. KNAPP PHOTOS
In June, Dave Cerda's daughter, Elizabeth, center, graduated from
Alliance Christian High School in Portsmouth, with classmates Erica
Newsome, right, and Kelley Miltier.
Elizabeth took another major step when she went to Tacoa Falls
Christian College in Georgia. She moved out of home and into the
dorm all while her father was at sea.
Rita Cerda balances her checkbook as she prepares to pay Elizabeth's
tuition. Rita took on the new financial burden of college without
Dave.
Rita Cerda's car was stolen while her husband was at sea. She left
her friend Cindy Adkins in the car to go into a restaurant for sodas
when a man jumped in the car with a knife. He forced Adkins out of
the car and drove off. Chesapeake Detective Peter Cenzalli, right,
shows Adkins, center, mug shots of possible suspects. Rita Cerda,
left, did not see the carjacker.
Doug, left, and Nick Cerda stay up late to make a few signs for
their father's homecoming. While Dave was at sea, Nick was attacked
by a gang of teenagers.
by CNB