That Time I Was a Military Whistleblower
A story of abuse of authority
A lifetime ago, I was an active-duty enlisted Marine. Our battalion fell somewhere between the fleet and special forces. Its name was the Marine Corps Security Force Battalion, and whereas regular deployments are six months, our Marines were out and back sometimes in two-week rotations. The duties of our FAST (fleet anti-terrorism security team) Marines included guarding our nuclear submarines, missions in areas ranging from the Horn of Africa to the Middle East, and even providing security for the base at Guantanamo Bay. (Note: this writing is not an endorsement of any of the above).
A common theme of my life has been having a healthy skepticism for authority, making the military a funny place to land. But like so many kids growing up in areas with little economic opportunity, combined with being a student who didn’t prioritize his education, it’s where I ended up.
My job was to work with company and battalion commanders to rotate platoons in and out of mission-critical areas or to specialized training programs, including scout sniper school, evasive driving courses, or SERE training. A big part of the job was writing orders for everyone. Orders are your official pass to doing things in the military — an approved permission slip signed by your commanding officer — allowing you to do official duties. Whether changing duty stations, going to boot camp, attending training, deploying, or retiring, you need orders for authorization.
One day, our commanding officer, a warrant officer with a chip on his shoulder who paid too much attention to the women in our platoon, told me to write orders for one of those women. She would head down to Parris Island, where east-coast Marines attend boot camp. She planned to take leave to visit a friend stationed there, but this warrant officer wanted to use our battalion’s money to pay for her vacation. I reminded him she planned to take leave and that her trip wasn’t for work, and he dismissed it and told me to write the orders anyway.
We’re told in the military to follow orders and ask questions later. With that in mind and having been issued a direct order from my CO, I wrote the orders. In the Navy and Marine Corps, whistleblowing comes by a different name: requesting mast. It provides an internal channel allowing anyone to bypass the chain of command if they believe wrongdoing is happening. If you’re unsatisfied with an answer at any level, you can keep going until you reach the President. I spoke to our staff NCO — a Staff Sergeant at the time — and told him what was happening, and he declined to act on it. So, I requested mast. Soon, I was in the office of our company’s Commanding Officer. He was a young captain (O-3), and looked fresh out of college. I explained the situation, and with a literal sigh, he said he didn’t want to do anything with it. So, I requested mast again; this time, I’d speak to our battalion’s Commanding Officer, a seasoned colonel (O-6). This time, I would be placed at attention and wasn’t allowed to speak (not a good sign for any civilian reading). The colonel said he trusted his officers, refused to do anything with my report, and said, “The general (O-7 to 10) will never learn about this”, since my next step would be to his office at the Regiment level. I wasn’t allowed to say anything but to agree.
Then the real shit show ensued. When we were dismissed, my warrant officer would stand me at attention, this time in his office, and berate me in earshot of my platoon. He compared me to a soldier in Afghanistan who made the news by throwing a grenade into his commanding officer’s tent. Then, the hazing came. I’d have to stay at work for up to 20 hours a day, in uniform, and was not allowed to leave. I would be given menial, unnecessary tasks and told to repeat them. Our battalion had around 2,000 Marines, all with record books that would be thrown onto the ground — all 2,000 of them — and I’d have to put them all back in alphabetical order. I’d clean closets over and over or polish brass endlessly. So, I requested mast again, this time because of the hazing.
Soon, the hazing would stop because the warrant officer was retiring after an unremarkable 20+ year career in which he wasn’t allowed to be promoted beyond CWO2 because of gross misconduct at a prior duty station. And my lesson was clear: people in authority are not going to police themselves, and as said by Jenny Holzer, “abuse of authority comes as no surprise.”
This experience has shaped a significant portion of who I am today and opened my eyes to a core reality at a very young age. It’s one of the reasons that’s led to the creation of Hush Line, a free and open-source, self-hosted, anonymous tip line.
My experience confirms most people’s worst fears: speaking out will cause retaliation. We know that 70–90% of workers will experience or witness workplace harassment. Still, only a small subset of those individuals will say anything about it, and fewer than 1 in 100 will find a resolution.
We need safer ways to report our concerns, and it isn’t through a Google Form from your signed-in work account. We know that more surveillance and physical security measures make us feel less safe and that most people are afraid to speak up. This is a significant problem, and Hush Line provides a safe and trustworthy way to receive messages from your community when confidentiality is a must.
Are you someone who sees the value of anonymous tip lines and wants to learn more? Head over to hushline.app or send an email to hushline@scidsg.org.
