I was a twenty year milbrat. My dad was a U.S. Navy officer. I called him dad and sir. Until he swore me in. Then I called him Captain. LOL!
I grew up in the 60s. I knew kids who called their career military fathers by their rank (Colonel or Captain that I specifically recall) but I think that was more of a Southern thing.
My father was in the Navy for 10 years, during World War II through the mid 1950s (eventually becoming a Commander), and remained in the Naval Reserves during the 1960s. I never heard anyone call him Commander.
Dad was always dad, not Sgt, Gunny, MSgt, or Top.
Can’t speak for officers’ families...
My cousins always referred to my dad as Uncle Sarge!
Never Sarge.
Mom was Mom and Ma'am.
Never anything else or you got the wrath of Dad. :)
My dad was in the Army when I was born. I was born at Ft.Lee Army hospital in Virginia.
Growing up, we had assigned seats at the kitchen table. We had assigned plates, cups, and glasses. We were not allowed to talk. I talked once and was backhanded across the kitchen. Same thing when the news or football was on. That was nap time for us. No noise. No interruptions.
To this day, and I’m 69, I can’t eat at a kitchen table and football puts me to sleep. LOL
My father was a USN Commander. He was Dad.
I had a friend who was a general. If his kids were calling him General…they were rolling their eyes
It’s either a mark of respect or derision, depending on the family relationship. Nobody ever called my dad the lieutenant colonel. My kids will occasionally refer to me as the Colonel, but usually as a tender poke when I’m being a little too get-off-my-lawn. My dad was always “Sir”, which was standard for military kids and still is in households where courtesy and respect are taught.
I briefly dated a girl 25 years ago who (usually lightheartedly) called her Dad “the Captain.”
He was 30+ year US Navy officer. He was Captain of a destroyer or cruiser.
Heh, I was a military brat...my dad was a 30 year vet, serving through the end of WWII to the end of Vietnam...
My dad retired as a Commander in the Navy. We never referred to him as “Commander”, sometimes as Dad, and always in interactive conversation as “Sir”.
My dad was an intimidating figure to my friends after he retired, not because he was mean or nasty, but because he projected authority. He never tried to be friends with us in my family, and never went out of his way to interact with my friends.
They kept their distance, but would refer to him in the third person as “The Commander”. It was respectful, too, not mocking.
Heh, he used to drive a great big 1973 Buick LeSabre, a boat that would float up and down as you drove it up the highway! It was rusty, and as a joke, my buddies and I were going to spray paint it gray, put a couple of cleats on the front fender, and paint a hull number on the side of each front fender in the standard Navy way!
I never called my dad “Chief”. He was Dad.
My leatherneck father was Dad. But he never quite left the DI behind even after commissioned and retiring as a major.
Does Peter Hitchens confirm?
Dad enlisted as a Army private in 1961, re-upped twice and eventually GI billed a BA and then went to OCS and stayed until 1995, 34 total years. We never were required as kids to address Dad directly and Lt, or Captain, etc. We were required to answer the phone identifying to caller whose home was reached, in terms of rank.
Outside the home anyone else serving in the military we were expected to address as Captain Smith, Lt. Jones, etc.
HMS Bounty comes to mind, and no that is not normal. However, I do recall an obvious affirmative action two stars wife who cut lines on base calling herself the generals wife.
My dad was a Navy pilot and served for 28 years. I was a military brat from the time I was born until I was an adult.
My dad was not one of those guys who brought the job home with him. He was fun-loving, had a great sense of humor, disciplined us when he had to, but no differently than a civilian dad.
The only time we ever saw “Officer Dad” come out was when my sisters and I started dating as teenagers. He’d greet our suitors with a gruff demeanor we didn’t recognize. He’d shake hands and say, “I’m Commander __________. I trust you’ll have my daughter home by {whatever the curfew was.}” My sisters and I would giggle to ourselves and say “Who *is* this guy?”
I did have a couple of friends whose dads were kind of “Great Santini”-like. They’d say “That’s an order!” or “Clean up your rooms for inspection!” Our parents ran a clean, orderly house wherever we lived, but not with military-style barking.