I like the Navy. I like standing on deck on a long voyage with the sea in my face and ocean winds whipping in from everywhere -- the feel of the giant steel ship beneath me, it's engine driving against the sea.

I like the Navy. I like the clang of steel, the ringing of the ship's bell, the foghorns and strong language and laughter of Navy men at work. I like the ships of the Navy -- nervous darting destroyers, sleek cruisers, majestic battleships and steady solid aircraft carriers and silent hidden submarines - I like the workhorse tugboats with their proud Indian names: Iroquois, Apache, Kiawah and Sioux - each stealthy powerful tug safely guiding the warships to safe deep waters from all harbors.

I like the historic names of other proud Navy Ships: Midway, Hornet, Randolph, Franklin, Princeton, Enterprise, Yorktown and Saratoga. The Ozark, Hunley, Constitution, Missouri, Quincy and Manchester, as well as The Sullivan's, New Jersey, Tecumseh and Nautilus - all majestic ships of the line. Each commanding the respect of all Navymen that have known her or were privileged to be a member of her crew.

I like the bounce of Navy music and the tempo of a Navy Band, "Liberty Whites" and the spice scent of a foreign port. I like shipmates I've sailed with . . . the kid from the Iowa cornfield, a pal from New York's Eastside, an Irishman from Boston, the boogie boarders of California, and of course a drawling friendly Texan. From all parts of the land they came -- farms of the Midwest, small towns of New England -- from the cities, the mountains and the prairies. All are Americans, all are comrades in arms. All are men of the sea.

I like the adventure in my heart when the ship puts out to sea, and I like the electric thrill of sailing home again, with the waving hands of welcoming family and friends waiting on shore. The work is hard, the going rough at times, but there's the companionship of robust Navy laughter, the devil-may-care philosophy of the sea.

And after a day of hard duty, there is a serenity of the sea at dusk, as white caps dance on the ocean waves. The sea at night is mysterious. I like the lights of the Navy in darkness -- the masthead lights, and red and green sidelights, and stern light. They cut through the night and look like a mirror of stars in darkness. There are quiet nights and the quiet of the mid-watch when the ghosts of all the sailors of the world stand with you. And there is the aroma of fresh, strong coffee from the galley.

I like the legends of the Navy and the men who made them. The proud names of Navy heroes: Halsey, Nimitz, Perry, Farragut, and John Paul Jones. A man can find much in the Navy -- comrades in arms, pride in country. A man can find himself.

In years to come, when the sailor is home from the sea, he will still remember with fondness the spray on his face of an angry sea. There will still come a faint aroma of fresh paint in his nostrils, the echo of hearty laughter of the seafaring men who once were close companions.

Locked on land, he will grow wistful of his Navy days, when the seas belonged to him and a new port of call was always just over the horizon. Remembering this, he will stand taller and say,