The Moment
The text message was simple: "IWA — Signal Group Invite."
Three Navy veterans, separated by geography, rank, and decades of service, received it within hours of each other.
One was in his office at the Pentagon, eighteen years into a career that had taken him from the deck plates of forward-deployed warships to the strategic planning corridors of the five-sided puzzle palace.
Another was preparing for a classified briefing, supporting international operations as a commissioned officer—eight years after he'd first worn Navy working uniforms as an enlisted Hospital Corpsman with a Marine infantry battalion.
The third was in San Diego, leading strategy for a hydrogen energy startup after spending a decade in federal acquisition and base realignment—work that started with a Surface Warfare Officer tour in 1990.
Three different paths. One common anchor.
The First Sailor: 1990
He didn't come from Annapolis. He came from USC—University of Southern California, NROTC. Naval Reserve Officer Training Corps. The path less glamorous than the Academy, perhaps, but no less committed.
He commissioned as an Ensign in 1990 and reported to Dam Neck, Virginia. Navy Marine Corps Intel Training Center (NMITC). The beginning of what would become a twenty-two-year journey that took him from the bridge of an amphibious warship to the strategic planning offices that reshape how the military operates.
His first real assignment? USS Durham (LKA-114). An amphibious cargo ship—part of the unglamorous but essential backbone of naval expeditionary operations. WestPAC. Western Pacific deployment. Five-ship Amphibious Ready Group (ARG) with MSSG-13 out of Camp Pendleton. The real Navy. Long days at sea, port calls that blur together, and the constant operational tempo that keeps Marines ready to hit the beach.
He served as a Surface Warfare Officer. Division Officer. Learning to lead sailors, manage complex ship systems, and operate in the high-tempo world where precision matters and mistakes cascade.
In 1994, he decommissioned the Durham. The ship was retired. His sea tour was complete.
But he wasn't done with the Navy. Not by a long shot.
He wrapped up active duty at NAS Miramar and made a transition most officers don't consider: he went to the civilian side. Not as a contractor. As a government civilian. A planner. Someone who understands both the operational side and the infrastructure that makes it possible.
And then came BRAC.
"Billions of dollars. Thousands of personnel. Environmental compliance. Community relations. Master planning. The unglamorous, high-impact work that most people never see but that fundamentally reshapes military readiness."
Base Realignment and Closure. From 1995 to 1999, he served as the Base Closure Planner and Project Manager for the U.S. Marine Corps at MCAS Miramar. The massive, complex, politically sensitive work of converting NAS Miramar into a Marine Corps Air Station—transitioning rotary-wing units from MCAS Pendleton and absorbing units from closing bases like MCAS El Toro and MCAS Tustin.
He didn't stop there. From 2009 to 2021, he served at Naval Facilities Engineering Systems Command (NAVFAC)—first as Community Planner and Liaison Officer at Naval Base Ventura County, then as Facilities Management Division Director at Naval Weapons Station Seal Beach. Managing facilities portfolios worth over $1.5 billion. Leading master planning, space management, and construction programs worth over $150 million.
Four years active duty. Six years Inactive Ready Reserve. Seventeen years federal civilian service with USMC, HUD, and Navy. A total of twenty-two years.
Today, he's the President and CEO of PowerTap Hydrogen Fueling Corp in Southern California. Hydrogen fueling infrastructure. Clean energy. The global energy transition. The same strategic mindset he learned on the Durham and honed through two decades of federal service—now applied to solving one of humanity's most pressing challenges.
He doesn't talk much about his Navy days. But when someone mentions "SWO" or "BRAC" or "Miramar," he nods. Once a sailor, always a sailor.
The Second Sailor: 2011
He didn't start as an officer. He started as a Doc.
Hospital Corpsman. HM. The only Navy rate that deploys with the Marine Corps. "Green side." The ones who patch Marines up in the field, carry extra gear on long humps, administer the infamous silver bullet, and earn a respect that only comes from shared hardship.
He enlisted in 2011. By 2012, he was with 2nd Battalion, 24th Marines (2/24)—a Marine Reserve infantry battalion based out of the Midwest. From 2012 to 2019, he wasn't just a sailor. He was their Doc.
Twenty-nine Palms. MWTC Bridgeport. Korea. Fort McCoy. The training rotations that separate the dedicated from the temporary. Year after year, he showed up. Year after year, he earned that respect again.
Infantry Marines don't give that respect lightly. But he earned it.
In 2019, he did something most enlisted sailors don't: he commissioned. Became an officer. Climbed to Lieutenant (O-3). Stayed Navy, but shifted from tactical medicine to strategic intelligence support.
Now he's supporting theater-level operations. A part-time sailor with a full-time commitment. The kind of quiet professional who moves between offices in the National Capital Region, does work that matters at the strategic level, and goes home to his family... on most nights.
He went from caring for thirty Marines in a rifle company to supporting operations that affect entire nations.
The uniform changed. The mission evolved. But the commitment? That never wavered.
The Third Sailor: 2006
He didn't commission. He enlisted.
December 2006. That's when it started. And 18 years later, he's still in.
Norfolk. Yokosuka. Stuttgart. Atsugi. San Diego. And now DC.
He's served in multiple billets, across multiple commands, on multiple continents. The kind of sailor who's been forward-deployed more than he's been stateside. The kind who knows what it means to serve the fleet... not just on paper, but in reality.
Yokosuka, Japan. Twice. That alone tells you something. He didn't just pass through. He stayed. He contributed. He became part of the team.
Stuttgart, Germany. Supporting joint operations. Working with allies. The kind of assignment that broadens your perspective and sharpens your professionalism.
Then came the turning point.
About two years into his second decade of service, he was selected for the Limited Duty Officer (LDO) program. Not a direct commission. Not a lateral transfer. LDO. The pathway that recognizes technical expertise, leadership potential, and deep operational knowledge. The program that says, "You've earned this."
He went from enlisted sailor to commissioned officer. Same Navy. Same mission. Different responsibilities.
Most recently? The Pentagon.
Not as a flag officer or a political appointee. As a professional. Someone who understands how the DoD works, how decisions get made, and how to navigate the bureaucracy without losing sight of the mission.
He commutes up on I-95. Wife & Daughters. The balance of service and family that so many understand but few manage as long as he has.
18 years is longer than most. But he's not done yet.
Because in the Navy, you don't just serve for a tour or two. If it's in your blood, you stay. You adapt. You find new ways to contribute.
And you keep the anchor close.
The Circle Closes
Three Navy veterans. Three different entry points. Three different careers.
The NROTC graduate became an energy executive, applying SWO discipline and BRAC strategic planning to the global clean energy transition.
The corpsman became an officer, evolving from tactical medicine with Marines to strategic intelligence support at the theater level.
The long-service sailor became a Pentagon professional, proving that endurance and adaptability are just as valuable as rank.
When they joined the IWA Signal group, the first messages were simple:
"Was a Doc with 2/24 from 2012-2019."
"USC NROTC. Durham. Decom'd her in '94. BRAC at Miramar after that."
"Been in since Dec 2006. Joined enlisted. Got selected for LDO about 5 years ago. Pentagon now."
No fanfare. No chest-thumping. Just quiet recognition.
Because that's what the Navy teaches. You don't need to be loud to make an impact. You just need to be ready.
The Lesson
The Navy doesn't have one path. It has many.
You can commission from NROTC, lead from the bridge, and transition to the civilian side to reshape military infrastructure.
You can enlist as a corpsman, earn a commission, and shift from saving lives in the field to shaping strategy at the theater level.
You can enlist, serve globally for 18+ years, earn your commission through LDO, and become the kind of professional the Pentagon needs.
The common thread? Adaptability. Endurance. Service.
The first sailor didn't just leave the Navy... he took the lessons of BRAC and naval logistics and applied them to reshaping the global energy sector.
The second sailor didn't settle for being "our Doc." He commissioned, deployed, and found new ways to serve at the strategic level.
The third sailor didn't punch out at 10 years or 15. He stayed, served on multiple continents, earned his commission through LDO, and continues to serve at the Pentagon with the same discipline he brought on day one.
And now? They're all in the same Signal group. Mentoring the next generation. Sharing lessons learned. Making each other better.
Because that's what sailors do.
We adapt to the mission. We endure through the storms. We anchor each other when the seas get rough.
The Warrior-Scholar Code
- Adaptability as Doctrine: The Navy taught them to shift between roles, billets, and missions without losing their anchor.
- Service Beyond the Obvious: Whether it's theater-level intelligence, Pentagon operations, or clean energy development, service takes many forms... in uniform and out.
- Endurance as Strength: 18 years isn't the exception. It's the standard for those who find their calling.
- Quiet Professionalism: No loud proclamations. Just steady, reliable, competent service.
Non sibi sed patriae. (Not for self, but for country)