Meet the Mids

Now's the Time to Watch the Navy's Next Crew of Leaders

Guide Joan Grieco speaks to a tour group outside the academy chapel, built atop the crypt of naval hero John Paul Jones. (Dennis Drenner )

There I was at the U.S. Naval Academy, and I wanted to see some action. Specifically, I wanted to see chow. After watching midshipmen walk around the Yard (as the campus is known) in their reserved and rigid manner, I imagined them lined up at table in similar martial dignity. So at the end of my recent morning tour, I walked over to a mess hall to confirm my preconceptions. Boy, was I wrong. Before I saw it, I heard it. Utensils and plates clattered, and the roar of voices sounded more like an Army-Navy football game than the disciplined eating drill I'd imagined.

The 4,300 midshipmen, I learned, consume 2,000 pounds of meat, 2,000 pounds of potatoes, 7,000 quarts of milk and 300 gallons of ice cream in a typical day. Lots of food; lots of noise. I was glad to know there was a short time in the middle of the day when these straight-and-narrow young men and women, with their shined shoes and pressed slacks, could howl like any other college student.

The body language of the guards at the academy gate may suggest otherwise, but the Navy's hallowed campus is open to the public, 365 days a year. And this is a prime time to visit the 338-acre compound between the south bank of the Severn River and downtown Annapolis: You beat the crowded tours of the summer high season and, best of all, you get to see the formations, activities and games of the academic year. The academy comes across as peaceful, picturesque and, yes, hard-core. But what surprised me was how much fun it looked. I'm sure many a mid would beg to differ, but it struck me as a very demanding, mentally and physically grueling, impossibly exclusive summer camp.

"This is where they swim and learn boxing, wrestling and judo," said Jim Minderlein, our tour guide and a 1960 graduate, as we entered Lejeune Hall. "By the time they are second-class [juniors] they have to jump off a three-story tower, fully clothed, then swim a half-mile in 40 minutes." (Okay, not many summer camps require that.)

The tour went up to the second-floor hallway, lined with observation windows, and we looked down at male swimmers on one side, male and female martial arts students on the other (in tiny swim trunks and short shorts, respectively). Down the hall, Minderlein pointed out the school's two Heisman trophies for outstanding college football player of the year, for Joe Bellino (1960) and Roger Staubach (1963), and carried on about Staubach as if he were personally responsible for every Navy victory, on the field or on the water.

The tour covers a lot of the school's -- and the Navy's -- history, including the Battle of Midway monument and the crypt of Revolutionary War naval hero John Paul Jones, located below the chapel (where, as Minderlein pointed out, Staubach went to Mass every day). We stopped at Bancroft Hall (one of the largest dormitories in the world, housing all the midshipmen) and Memorial Hall, which has balcony views of Kent Island across the Chesapeake Bay. At the U.S. Naval Academy Museum, which includes the Gallery of Ship Models, you can watch a model builder at work. (Some buildings are open to the public but are not on the tour, including the new Commodore Uriah P. Levy Center and Jewish Chapel.)

There is so much to see that it's worth spending the better chunk of the day on the Yard, revisiting places you rush through on the 75-minute tour. In general, you have a better chance of seeing midshipmen during the week than on the weekend. If you're there on a weekday, don't miss the 12:05 formation before chow (weather and schedule permitting). Watching the midshipmen line up in their working blues (which are actually black) and hearing them yell "All present and accounted for!" seemed like a privileged behind-the-scenes glimpse of academy tradition.

But a second-year swiftly cleared that up for me on his way to lunch. "It's important for us to be at formation," he said, "but it's all for the tourists."