I have found an analogy to explain the "connectedness with other men" aspect of the men's retreat. This goes with the revelation of not having much in common with most men I run into. This analogy explains where I was and why I'm different now. 

      I have often compared myself, my life, to that of a submarine on war patrol. Submarines, whether WW2-era diesel-electric boats or modern nuclear-powered ones, all have one thing in common - they operate alone. Unlike a task force, which is usually made up of a capital ship surrounded by escorts, all fighting in coordination with each other, subs go it alone. They patrol alone, they attack alone, they evade alone, and they die alone. It was true even in the Battle of the Atlantic. To the surface convoys the Wolf Pack attacks may have seemed like brilliantly choreographed operations, but they weren't. One sub would merely find the convoy, radio the position, then track it and wait for other U-boats to arrive. When several had gathered one would start shooting torpedoes at the merchant ships and the others would follow suit. There was no coordination for target selection, no shared assessment of convoy defense, no covering each other during attacks, and no mutual protection against counter attacks. The U-boats would rarely even see or speak to each other. Before the attack the captains would know by radio who was around, but once the attack started, all friendly contact ceased. The crew would have to wait until they got back to port to find who had succeeded, who had failed, who had lived and who was lost.

      Surface fleets, on the other hand, were and still are much different. They are a lot like a big family. The 1 or 2 capital ships, carriers and/or battleships, are like the parents. They are the largest, most powerful, and most important ships in the task force. Close by them are the cruisers, the older siblings who protected the parents from attack by air and augmented their close firepower. At the perimeter of the fleet are the destroyers and frigates, the younger siblings. They are the most numerous and the most maneuverable ships of the battle group. They also have the best sonar, for their job is to protect the capital ships from, you guessed it, enemy submarines.

      For you see, that is the true value of the submarine navy. With their silent, invisible stealthiness, you will most likely never realize they are near- until it’s too late. They are swift and deadly in their attack and baffling in their evasion. They are built for two things- to kill, and if there is no enemy to kill, then to spy. That is all. They do not project political power. They do not act as ambassadors for the Navy or the United States. They do not evacuate others from “hot spots”. They do not constitute a show of force. They are force. They are the arrows upon the drawn bow awaiting release.

      So how does all this compare to me? In the way of killing and spying, it doesn’t, unless, hopefully against the devil and his “fleet”. I think the real comparison is in how the sub operates. A sub is rarely assigned to a fleet and if it is, it rarely cruises with them. They don’t fit in with the fleet, and weren’t designed to. It seems that the same is true for me. No matter what the endeavor, I just can’t seem to coordinate with others on it very well. I am usually regarded as a team player, and seem to be valued, but I never seem to be able to stay on the team for very long. My mind wants to burst with ideas that don’t fit in, or can’t be used. It seems that a great many ideas are thrown away for lack of application, and the efforts of those who bring them are wasted. I don’t feel as if I am much use in a situation like that, and so once again it becomes comfortable for me to work alone. It’s not that I relish being alone; it just seems to be a natural state for me. It feels more comfortable to develop ideas that, although have no use or application at present, carry at least a hope of being useful in the future. It’s hard to pour yourself into a project, only to be told that it is of no use. I would rather pour myself into something that I enjoy so much that I don’t care if it is ever used, or appreciated.

      Occasionally I long to be part of a team effort. I see people sharing their efforts, joys, fears, and sorrows and I admire their camaraderie. I imagine a sub captain who watches a friendly fleet go by and sees a family with mutual purpose, mutual protection, and mutual rescue. He may feel a pang of aloneness, but soon remembers what he is about and what he is called to do. So he closes the hatch and proceeds to his operating area. At times these pangs of aloneness can be severe. When my tanks are empty, or I lack direction, I begin to reach out to others. Vickie and I have talked about this. I realize that I must seem aloof or distant to others, but I don’t mean to be. Whether I have problems or triumphs, it is enough for me to take them to God and my family. It is not natural for me to seek out others. Often in the past whenever I express a particularly difficult problem, it is usually met with the equivalent of a blank stare. Even recently when I expressed, by email, the problems that I have in trying to connect to others, I got little or no response. I realize that time is such a premium with everyone, it always is. (I'll be glad to go home- there is no sense of time in eternity!) So I just take everything to God. He is always accessible and has all the time in the world.

      Before the Men's Retreat, I was particularly lonely. My tanks were empty and I totally lacked direction. Like a U-boat commander in the middle of the Atlantic awaiting a re-supply sub. I'm sure at that time he would have loved to join up with a friendly fleet. Lacking fuel, he might have been running on the surface so long that his boat didn't even feel like a sub anymore. But with the arrival of the supply sub the tanks are refilled, the torpedoes are reloaded, and the food is restocked. He also gets new orders, so he eagerly proceeds to his next assignment.

      At the Men's Retreat a lot of deep places in me were broken up. And when the debris was cleared away, I was filled at a deeper level. Many questions were answered also, including the one about what I am to do with my life. At first I was eager to share this with a friend. I desired to strengthen the connections. But the world and all of its immediate concerns got in the way. Once again I am content to just close the hatch and proceed to my operational area.

      I realize the danger that I am fooling myself about the connections, or lack of them. But I don’t know what to do about it anymore. All I know is that I have my assignment and I am eager to carry it out. I can work out the connection problem when I get back to port. Maybe by then the war will be over and there will be enough time for all good things. But for now, until I resurface and make radio contact again, you know where I’ll be; running silent and deep and hopefully tallying up a big score. God bless you until then.

James - 5/20/03