CIVSail Presents: The Ben Bailey Story

"We don't care what you do for the Navy. That's not sailing."

Those were Ben Bailey’s detailer's exact words — said directly, and without hesitation.

At the time, Ben had just completed 450 consecutive days aboard the USNS Arctic as a Second Officer, followed by a month of Navy Reserve orders at MSC Headquarters. Still in uniform, he called the office to schedule training courses that would help him upgrade to Chief Mate.

The response?

“You already got 30 days off. We in the office don’t even get that.”

It stung, but it didn’t shock him.

Ben was no stranger to how things worked (or didn’t) at MSC. He already knew he was just a billet number. But now, it wasn’t just a feeling. It was confirmed.

That call would be his last as a CIVMAR.

Ben’s story is painfully common  and exactly why it matters. It’s a case study in how MSC’s manning crisis spills over into real lives, forcing even the most loyal mariners to question the future of a career they once loved, and in many ways, still do.

Ben comes from a family steeped in service. As a child, he moved around the country as his father, a Navy JAG officer, received orders for new duty stations. His older brother went on to become a Naval Aviator. His younger sister commissioned as a Surface Warfare Officer. That same sense of purpose led Ben to the U.S. Merchant Marine Academy at Kings Point, where he earned his deck license, played rugby, and met his future wife — a fellow KP grad.

During sea year, Ben spent time aboard the USS Stethem (DDG 63). While grateful for the opportunity, the experience confirmed what he already suspected: the rigid structure of the Navy wasn’t for him. He wanted a career path that offered challenge and purpose without the bureaucracy. He found that contrast aboard the MSC ships USNS Richard E. Byrd and USNS Guadalupe. The CIVMAR lifestyle offered everything he was looking for — operational tempo, global missions and the freedom to chart his own course, while still serving.

      "The work was extremely interesting, the crews were great, and the pay made active duty Navy look like peanuts in comparison."

After graduating in 2019, Ben began his career with Kirby Marine, sailing inland tug and barge routes. But his sights were always set on deep-sea sailing — the kind of work that would let him upgrade his license, support a broader mission and see the world.

It didn’t take long before he joined MSC. Over the next five years, he served aboard the USNS Washington Chambers, Rappahannock, and Wally Schirra, eventually homesteading on the high-tempo USNS Arctic. There, he advanced from Third Mate to Second Mate and racked up a considerable amount of sea time.

      "Upon graduation, I initially worked inland tug/barges with Kirby Inland Marine but set my sights on deep-sea sailing to upgrade my license, support a broader mission and travel the world."

Early in his career, Ben received advice to make an MSC career fit your life, not to make MSC your life. However, around 2024, it all started to change.

      "For the first few years as a CIVMAR, I made MSC work the best I could. I sailed a lot, upgraded my license very quickly, made a bunch of money, and gained a wealth of knowledge. I did all of this while also taking courses that furthered my career, went on Navy orders that appealed to me, and still had sufficient time at home to be with my wife."

But that balance began to slip. The job hadn’t changed — but the system around it had, and the environment deteriorated.

      "The CIVMAR culture I had seen in 2016 and even in 2019 was a shell of its former self in 2024. Pushing already minimally manned crews to cover more work led to burnout across the fleet. 'Gangway Up' decimated morale during COVID. CIVMARs couldn't go home for months well past their relief dates, and their phones were ringing after 15 days of leave asking when they were coming back. CIVMARs were quitting in flocks, and the only response shoreside had was to punish those who still were employed.

 It just wasn't the same MSC I started with anymore."

The final straw came during that infamous phone call with his detailer. The conversation didn’t just deny him training, it erased all context for the commitment he’d shown. That moment made the decision for him.

"A good friend once said to me, 'If MSC could have 10 Chief Mates that would stick with the company for 5 years or 60 Chief Mates that would all quit in 30 days, MSC would choose the 60 Chief Mates to alleviate their problems in the moment.' I really can't think of a better way to describe how accurate that statement is. There is a severe disconnect and divide between CIVMARs and MSC shoreside that I only saw grow wider in my 5 years. I felt like I was being treated as a problem and a solution to their gigantic mess. Years of lacking foresight have caused the issues, not the CIVMARs who are actively employed and doing the job for MSC."

Even the things that once made CIVMAR life attractive, the looser structure, the independent path  were beginning to fade.

"The lines between big Navy and MSC were starting to blur. MSC and the Navy made poor policy changes for CIVMARs who were also Navy reservists that were extremely restrictive and out of touch. All the bad qualities that turned me off from going active duty Navy were rearing their ugly head in MSC. Bloated bureaucratic decisions and restrictions were negatively affecting my work/life balance and I could no longer 'Chart my own course.'"

Ben had always been willing to deal with the tough parts of the job,  but not while being treated with disrespect by the very system he’d committed to.

"While sometimes I can understand the frustration and disconnect from shoreside in an already broken system, I am a full-grown adult with aspirations and wherewithal to not allow a company to treat me like that. This came from the same office that can never answer calls/emails, assist you in scheduling training, obtain employment verification, pay you correctly, use leave properly, get travel information on time/correctly, process travel claims in a timely manner, find you a relief after 60 days (which is absolutely bogus)

 Don't make your problems my problem too. You dug your hole for years. Don’t bury me in it.."

Ben still wanted to sail, but not at the cost of his sanity, relationships, or future. He needed a better balance. That’s when he decided to go union and make the switch to CONMAR life.

The transition brought immediate relief — and a renewed sense of control over his career.

“Overall, I am extremely satisfied with my decision to change from CIVMAR to CONMAR. There are a lot fewer headaches — whether administrative, shoreside, or in the job itself. With more time off, I can be home with my family, take care of other responsibilities, and not have my entire life revolve around sailing. The work environment is more relaxed, and I finally have helpful resources that care about my career progression. I don’t feel like a billet or a nuisance. I get support when I need it.”

But while he’s glad to have moved on, Ben doesn’t look back bitterly. He’s still proud of the work he did and the people he worked alongside.

“This is not to say I didn’t enjoy my time as a CIVMAR. I worked with some great people and made lifelong friends while doing a cool job and traveling the world. I still miss parts of it — the UNREPs, the sound of helicopters on the flight deck, the welcome alongside announcements, even the breakaway songs and cookies from the Navy. But as long as MSC keeps mistreating its mariners and throwing Band-Aids on bullet wounds, I don’t see myself coming back anytime soon. The CONMAR way of life gives me the balance that CIVMAR sailing never could.”

Ben Bailey didn’t leave MSC because he stopped believing in the mission. He left because MSC stopped working for him.

He still believes in what CIVMARs do. He still loves the job. He came from a family of service, graduated from a federal academy, and chose MSC with intention. He was exactly the kind of mariner the organization should fight to keep. Instead, he was overused, overlooked — and eventually, driven out.

He’s not alone. Plenty of mariners still want to stay. They believe in the work. They care about the mission. But when loyalty is met with silence, disrespect, or impossible demands on their time and family — people vote with their feet. Not because they want to, but because they have no other choice.

To their credit, MSC’s new leadership is trying. Real changes are being discussed and a few have taken root. Maybe that momentum will continue. Maybe, in twenty years, this will all be remembered as a rough patch. Growing pains of an agency finding its way forward.

And to be fair, MSC is a government organization bound by policy, bureaucracy, and sluggish administrative machinery. But understanding the constraints do not erase the consequence. 

Those policies are affecting real people today. Retention isn’t about what’s theoretically possible — it’s about what mariners actually experience. Until mariners feel that change, United We Sail will remain an email signature block — not a shared vision.

And what about the mariners who held the line?

Hundreds kept the fleet running through COVID and into the current manning crisis. They stayed aboard with no relief, little recognition, and growing burnout. That damage won’t be undone with slogans. It takes more than catchphrases to rebuild trust. It takes consistent action, visible care and mutual respect.

A strong, healthy MSC is good for the entire U.S. maritime community, but only if it works for the mariners who make the mission possible.

At CIVSail, our mission is simple: help mariners get the most out of their careers.  Whether that means sailing with MSC, exploring other sailing opportunities, or stepping away. We’re here to make sure no mariner feels alone in their decision, and that their stories don’t fade the moment they walk down the gangway for the last time.

We thank Chief Mate Ben Bailey for his service, his honesty, and his time. Wherever the next hitch takes him — we’ll be watching, and rooting for him.