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Leaving the Military: Finding Direction When Nobody Sends Your Orders

Lost in Translation #3: Draft



Where the Navy sends you next. And what happens when nobody sends your orders.


In the Royal Navy, a draft is an order and now we use the term assignment. Ok it is also the term for a preliminary document, a cold air current, a system for selecting athletes for a sports team in the UK or the depth of a ship ~ draught, but the Draft I’m talking about is where Drafty sends you next, next assignment, job, location, ship…you get the idea.


Someone, somewhere in the naval drafting system, decides where you go next. Your next ship. Your next squadron. Your next appointment ashore. You might submit a preference. You might have a good divisional officer who advocates for you.


But the final call is rarely yours.


You go where you are sent.


And then one day, after nearly thirty years of going where you are sent, nobody sends your orders anymore.


That is a moment worth talking about.


820 Naval Air Squadron. Cornwall. Not What I Had in Mind.


My first draft was to 820 Naval Air Squadron, RNAS Culdrose, Cornwall.

 

As far as possible from my flat in Portsmouth and my family in London as the Royal Navy could reasonably manage.

 

I was not best pleased.

I could have gone there with a poor attitude and hated every minute. Or I could go with an open mind and find out what was waiting.

What was waiting turned out to be one of the best postings of my career.

 

Deployments to Portugal and Oman. An operational tour to Iraq. And one of the more memorable training experiences the Royal Navy offers, the dunker.

 

For anyone who has not had the pleasure, the dunker is helicopter underwater escape training. You are strapped into a mock helicopter cockpit. It is submerged. It rolls upside down. In the dark, underwater, you locate the window, clear it, and get out.

 

Simple enough on paper.

 

I am also a qualified diving instructor, which meant I was reasonably comfortable with the whole being-underwater-upside-down element of it. I was designated number two to exit in my group.

 

My group included several rather large Royal Marines.

They were extremely keen to exit the helicopter. I came out last. Entirely unbothered.

But here is the thing about the dunker that stays with me.

 

In the moment before the cockpit hits the water, you take a breath. You run your drills in your head. You know your plan. And then everything goes under and for a few seconds it is chaotic and disorienting and nothing is where you expected it to be.

 

And then you find the window. And you get out. And you swim to the surface.

 

And the messy bit is already behind you.


I didn’t want that draft, but I enjoyed it thoroughly and learnt so much.

The Draft I Am Living Right Now


I am in transition. Late July handover. August reset. September, the mission I have been building toward begins.

 

And I recognise exactly where I am in the dunker sequence.

I am strapped in and about to submerge. The plan is rehearsed. The drills are ready. But when the last day hits, like when your face hits the water, you take that breath and you do not know precisely what happens next.

That is transition. That is the draft nobody sends you.


You write it yourself. And it is simultaneously the most frightening and most exciting heading you have ever set.

 

The Problem With Writing Your Own Orders


Many of the people I work with as a coach are not former military. But they understand the draft better than they realise.

 

They are the person whose role was made redundant and who is now staring at a blank page wondering what comes next.


The woman who has spent twenty years in a career that no longer fits and cannot see what else she is qualified for.


The professional who is not unhappy exactly, just stuck. Knowing they need to move but unable to work out where.

 

In the military, someone else removes that paralysis. The draft arrives. You go. You grow. You move.

 

In civilian life, that friction is yours to manage.

The people who feel most stuck are often the ones who have never had to choose their own heading before. The freedom is real. So is the weight of it.

Research on self-determination theory, developed by psychologists Deci and Ryan, shows that autonomy, the ability to make meaningful choices about your own life, is one of the three core drivers of human motivation and wellbeing.

 

But autonomy without clarity is not freedom. It is just noise.

 

That is where the work begins.

 

What I Would Say to Anyone Given a Draft They Did Not Want


When I got my orders to Culdrose I could not see what was ahead. Iraq was not on my radar. Neither was the dunker, or the friendships, or the experiences that shaped the officer and the person I became.

 

If someone had told me then what was waiting, I might have been slightly more gracious about the posting.

With anything in life, a draft you didn't ask for or a change you didn't choose, you can go there with a poor attitude and hate it. Or you can go with an open mind, take advantage of the learning opportunity, and you never know what or who you might meet.

That applies to the redundancy you did not see coming.


The restructure that moved your role sideways.


The life event that rewrote your plan.


The transition you are living right now.

 

The draft is not always the one you would have written.


It is frequently the one you needed.


Clarity, Courage, Connection


If you are waiting for someone to send your orders and realising they are not coming, here is what I would offer.


Clarity

You cannot write your own draft until you know what you are actually aiming for. Not the role. The life. Start there.


Courage

Self-direction is uncomfortable, especially if you have spent years in a structure that removed it. That discomfort is not a sign you are doing it wrong. It is a sign you are doing it at all.


Connection

The drafting system did one thing well without meaning to. It put you in rooms with people you would never have chosen and made you figure it out together. Build that deliberately now. Your new oppos are out there. You just have to find them.



Looking for More Clarity, Courage and Connection?


If this blog struck a chord, ACSIS Life Coaching offers a calm, supportive space to help you reconnect with what keeps you steady, resilient and more like yourself.


Sam and Lloyd work with people who are carrying stress, pressure or emotional weight and want practical support to move forward with greater clarity, confidence and connection. Sometimes the shift starts with something big. Sometimes it starts with something smaller, a pause, a breath, a different perspective, a little more lightness.


👉 Book a FREE Clarity Session with ACSIS Life Coaching



👉 Visit acsis.co.uk or email contact@acsis.co.uk



FAQ: Leaving the Military, Finding Direction and Writing Your Own Orders


What does draft mean in the Royal Navy?

In the Royal Navy, a draft is an order that tells you where you are being sent next. It could be your next ship, squadron, shore appointment or role. You may be able to express a preference, but the final decision is usually made by the naval drafting system.

Leaving the military can feel difficult because it is not just a career change. For many service leavers, it means stepping away from a clear structure, identity, routine and sense of direction. After years of being sent where you are needed, choosing your own next step can feel both exciting and overwhelming.

Finding direction after leaving the military starts with clarity. Rather than only asking what job you want next, it helps to ask what kind of life you want to build. From there, you can identify your values, strengths, skills, support network and practical next steps.

Military-to-civilian transition is the process of moving from Armed Forces life into civilian life, work and identity. It can involve career planning, emotional adjustment, family changes, confidence building and learning how to make decisions without the same structure around you.

Civilian life can feel overwhelming because there is often more freedom but less structure. In the military, orders, routines and roles are usually clear. In civilian life, you may have to define your own direction, build new networks and make choices without someone else sending the next set of instructions.


 
 
 

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