Never a Hero

While in D.C., I was proud to have added a son named James to our family. But after two long years of 7-day weeks at the Pentagon, I asked to transfer when given the chance. I received referred orders to San Diego to work for a guy who had just fired his last two writers, Vice Admiral T.J. Walker, Commander, Pacific Fleet. I can attest he was a man who lived up to his reputation for being extremely tough but fair. A born leader, he was in charge of all naval air assets on the West Coast and the Western Pacific.

Walker worked us hard, but I also quickly learned that if you did a good job, he took care of you. I even had Navy housing waiting upon arrival, just down the street from headquarters. His myriad of responsibilities kept him on-the-go, and I traveled with him. 

After a year, I was selected for a college program I had applied to and moved into my first off-base home in Chula Vista, California. I spent 20 months there earning my associate’s degree and almost forgot I was in the Navy. Only wore my uniform twice a month to pick up my paycheck. Came close to becoming a hippie — but not quite.

I graduated in ’75 and was ready to be a real sailor again. As a First-Class Petty Officer trying to make Chief, I joined Commander Cruiser-Destroyer Group One in San Diego as Flag Staff Writer for Rear Admiral R. S. Smith.

Our group included the nuclear-powered USS Bainbridge. Smith was nuclear-qualified and conducted frequent inspections of the west coast carriers. At least once a week, typically early on a Saturday, the phone would ring and Admiral Hyman G. Rickover himself, the “father” of naval nuclear power, wanting to speak with the boss. Brilliant and brusk, you immediately knew you didn’t keep him waiting.

After about a year and a half, Smith transferred, and in stepped Rear Admiral Floyd “Hoss” Miller. He was a five-foot-six dynamo who acted seven feet tall. Also nuclear-qualified, he was loud, funny, fearless, and as loyal as they come. He could be a handful to keep out of trouble, but he was a good boss and an even better friend. I could tell plenty of stories about Hoss, but most aren’t fit for print!

Just so we’re clear, what follows isn’t a fairy tale — it’s what we call a sea story. The difference? A fairy tale starts “once upon a time.” A sea story starts “this is no sh–t.”

In ’79, I transferred to Hawaii — but life as a sailor had its storms, too.

I had married in Korea, but while on deployment overseas, my wife sent my daughter and son to my parents in Ontario, Oregon without telling me. Divorce was next, I was grateful to be granted full custody. And, I was now a single-parent on active duty. The Navy took that into account and sent me to a shore post as Administrative Officer at Explosive Ordnance Disposal (EOD) Group One on Oahu. Wow, talk about heroes — they trained for months to become absolute experts in every kind of explosive, both foreign and domestic. They were also scuba and hard-hat divers, handling underwater demolition and ordnance recovery with calm precision.

Their officers were mostly “Mustangs”, former enlisted men who had worked their way up through the ranks by leading by example. It was a real honor to serve alongside people who constantly put themselves in harm’s way, quietly doing some of the most dangerous work in the Navy. They showed me leadership actually isn’t about rank — it’s about responsibility.

After two years in Hawaii, I remarried and happily adopted my second daughter, Joyce. I was then transferred to Commander Carrier Group Five, home-ported in Subic Bay, Zambales Philippines.

While our families stayed ashore, we embarked aboard carriers across the Western Pacific, spending most of our time on the USS Midway out of Yokosuka, Japan. While there, my youngest daughter, Johnna, was born, and I was promoted to Senior Chief and later, to Chief Warrant Officer under Vice Admiral Huntington Hardisty, a true gentleman. I learned more about leadership under him than in any course I’d ever taken. He treated everyone the same, from the most junior sailor to the most senior officer. Intelligent, personable, and steady under pressure, he lived by a simple rule: treat others the way you want to be treated.

Hardisty led with confidence, without arrogance, and always made time for his people. When news of my promotion to Chief Warrant Officer was approved, he personally conducted the ceremony while we were at sea and oversaw my transfer to a a great shore-duty assignment that helped seal my evolution from enlisted to officer status. 

He went on to become Commander-in-Chief, Pacific, and later Vice Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. No matter how high he rose, he never stopped being the kind of leader others wanted to follow. Serving under him was an immense privilege.

In ’84 I transferred to a dirty, dusty overhaul job aboard the USS Forrestal in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, then deployed to the Mediterranean out of Mayport, Florida, after refit. We made port calls in Italy, France, Israel, and a few others along the way. I remember thinking no matter where I went, the water all looked the same. I changed jobs on board and became the ship’s Secretary before eventually being selected for the Limited Duty Officer Program and promoted to Lieutenant Junior Grade.

Two years later, I received orders to NAS Chase Field in Beeville, Texas to take command of my own Personnel Support Detachment — about 60 people, both military and civilian.

It was the best and most challenging job I ever had. Being in charge is great until something goes wrong — then you learn fast where the buck stops. I was excited to apply all the knowledge I had acquired over the years. My team handled everything from payroll and personnel records to training, travel, and family services with grace. They were hardworking and dependable, and I was proud of every one of them.

Both my oldest kids got to stay long enough to graduate from a small town high school, and my middle daughter shined as a young basketball “star”. I really liked that it was a lot like Payette there. It felt like a full circle moment.

Next came the USS Ranger out of San Diego, where I served as Admin Department Head — about 200 sailors under my watch across eight divisions: personnel, training, public affairs, legal, and more. It was my biggest job, but I had a great team. When Desert Storm began, we were already on station in the Indian Ocean. The next day, we launched our first aircraft to bomb Baghdad — watched them strike their targets live on CNN. Quite an experience, watching history happen in real time from half a world away. 

As Admin Officer, I was allowed to run my divisions with little supervision. From commanding officer on down, everyone was focused on the mission. I wasn’t on the front lines, but I had the privilege of supporting the people who were, and I’m proud to say they each excelled.

Not long after, I met and married the love of my life, Debra, in the state of Mississippi — which brought yet another daughter, Kristi, and another son, Austin, under my wing. 

To this day, I still don’t know how I got so lucky in life. More recently, health challenges have reminded me yet again what really matters. Within days of being hospitalized, every one of my six children were by my side, along with my sweet sister, and my beautiful wife. I remain in good company and under great care.

And I realize that although I was never a “hero” to most, in the eyes of my growing loving family… I am. And you know what? That’s good enough for me.

— written by Lt, Commander, James Donald Atherton, Old Navy Vet/Proud Yogi Dad

Thank You for Your Service.

By the end of Never a Hero, my dad realizes what most of us in uniform eventually do: that being a hero isn’t about battle—it’s about presence. It’s the love you give, the people you guide, and the life you build after service.

For those still navigating that next chapter, Joyce and I, and our veteran Dads, also wanted us to reshare a past piece on how yoga and meditation can help veterans find peace and purpose beyond the battlefield.

👉 Read: Yoga and Meditation for PTSD

This Veterans Day, may we honor all forms of service—the outer strength, the inner stillness, and the courage to keep showing up. On Veterans Day, just like every other day at Modern Yoga Studios, Veterans pay a special rate of $11 per single class drop-in. Inquire at the studio!