The Chaplain shows movies on Friday night. Last week it was Clash of the Titans, which I saw while I was at Pendleton. I wasn’t too impressed, so I didn’t go. Today’s showing was Prince of Persia, which I went to. As I walked back from chow to the tent where the movie was being shown, I suddenly recalled scenes from M*A*S*H, where the characters sat on wooden benches, and threw popcorn at Klinger when the movies stopped rolling. I wondered if I would be sitting on a wooden bench--the chapel that Sunday services are in has wooden benches much like them. I was almost disappointed when I got there and found out I would be sitting on a metal chair. But not too disappointed, because it meant I got to sit on something with back support.
Prelude. I remember at one point, not all that long ago, sitting in a briefing evaluating the performance of a unit where a commanding officer was being told that his Marines were average. When the brief was over, he was angry. “Never in my life have I been average,” he snapped.
I promise this post will make sense at some point.
I had a project earlier today where some work my Marines completed was being inspected for completion. The inspector pointed out details that had been overlooked--nails that had gone through the plywood but not the stud behind it. Nails that had been done with a nail gun and not gone into the wood entirely, and then not been finished off with a regular hammer. I realized that I was good at holding myself to a standard of excellence, but actually fairly bad about holding my subordinates to a standard of excellence.
I’m too worried about being the bad guy, about whether they’ll work for me willingly or grudgingly if I come down on them to hard. About whether I have the stamina and endurance to stick around long after I want to because I am holding Marines to a high standard and they have not completed their task yet. But if I don’t do this, I am setting myself up for a career of having my Marines be just average.
I know some of my Sergeants are holding my Marines to a standard of excellence. A civilian inspector recently came to look at a different project some of my Marines had done, and told our Battalion Sergeant Major that the work was better quality than some Seebee projects he had seen. This was quite high praise. But obviously, I have problems in other areas.
Military commanders aren’t judged on what they accomplish. Their actions might be examined for strengths and flaws, as Gen McChrystal is learning right now, but their successes and failures lie in what their subordinates do or fail to do.
Earlier in the month I took some Marines out to a project site to drop them off. We had enough logistics vehicles that we went in two separate convoys, with me in charge of the second one. As I drove up to the entry control point (ECP) for the patrol base, I heard over the radio that a corpsman was needed at the ECP. I hopped out to find a Marine standing with his weight on his right leg; some heavy equipment had dropped onto his foot. (He broke some toes and suffered some pain, but will be fine. He didn’t get sent home.)
A couple hours later I fielded a stern call from our Battalion Commanding Officer, informing me that I was not their friend, and that I had better hold the Marines to a standard. That was something that my Staff Platoon Commander at The Basic School pounded into my head--if I didn’t hold to the standard that was established already, I was setting a new standard.
So, I think one of the biggest things I need to focus on now is holding my Marines to a high standard, and not worrying about whether they’ll like me or not. Not gonna be easy to do.
See? I told you it would all make sense in the end. Except for Prince of Persia. That was random. :-)
Showing posts with label leadership. Show all posts
Showing posts with label leadership. Show all posts
25 June 2010
28 April 2010
The Strategic (Lance) Corporal
Last summer, during the protests in Iran, a woman was shot and killed by a member of the Basij--a militia force currently under the control of the Iranian Revolutionary Guards. Someone standing nearby caught a video of the woman's death on a cell phone, and the video spread over the internet in a matter of hours. This morning I posed the question to my platoon: what if the protest had been in Iraq, or Afghanistan, and the shooter had been a US Marine?
Vietnam was the first war we fought in the television era, and the consequences of having that medium focused on the war were huge. The wars we're fighting now in Afghanistan and previously in Iraq are the first wars we've fought in the internet era, and the consequences of having that medium available to focus on the war have also been huge. We've gotten to the point now that the actions of anyone on the battlefield, no matter if they're the newest private or a high-ranking officer with years of experience, can be broadcast around the world in a matter of minutes or even seconds.
That's the idea behind the term "The Strategic (Lance) Corporal". Because there is the potential for everyone's actions to be broadcast around the world in a matter of seconds, it's extremely important that everyone, from the newest private to the high-ranking officers with years of experience, know and follow the Law of War and the Rules of Engagement. Our ability or failure to do so has the potential to affect national policy. Don't believe me? Think Abu Ghraib.
The Law of War, or Law of Armed Conflict, is a set of nine rules that determine how we interact with enemy forces and civilians, and is designed to minimize human suffering. Things like: Collect and care for the wounded, whether friend or foe. Destroy no more than the mission requires.
Our Rules of Engagement provide guidance on the use of force. It seems a little silly--we fight the enemy, right? Yes, but it's far from clear who you should fight when the enemy can hide their weapons at a moment's notice and blend into the crowd. So instead we use the guidelines of a hostile act or a hostile intent. A hostile act is pretty simple to identify--someone's actively doing something to try to harm you. Hostile intent requires more judgment. Is the fertilizer in the farmer's barn being used for his crops, or is it being used to make homemade explosives for roadside bombs? Is that guy with a cell phone phoning a friend, or is he using it to trigger a nearby IED (improvised explosive device)?
We train our Marines to make split-second decisions where their lives and the lives of their buddies hang in the balance. Are some of them going to make the wrong decision--shoot the guy who was calling his friend? Or the woman who they suspected might be reaching to trigger a suicide vest and was instead reaching for a white handkerchief? Unfortunately, yes. No matter what era or what we can accomplish with technology, war is characterized by imperfect information. So we give them the tools to make those decisions and realize that hindsight is 20/20.
A quick note to brag about my Marines. We ran a physical fitness test yesterday, and I had one Marine with a perfect score, and several Marines with scores high enough to receive a certificate of recognition. I can't say it enough: my Marines are awesome.
Vietnam was the first war we fought in the television era, and the consequences of having that medium focused on the war were huge. The wars we're fighting now in Afghanistan and previously in Iraq are the first wars we've fought in the internet era, and the consequences of having that medium available to focus on the war have also been huge. We've gotten to the point now that the actions of anyone on the battlefield, no matter if they're the newest private or a high-ranking officer with years of experience, can be broadcast around the world in a matter of minutes or even seconds.
That's the idea behind the term "The Strategic (Lance) Corporal". Because there is the potential for everyone's actions to be broadcast around the world in a matter of seconds, it's extremely important that everyone, from the newest private to the high-ranking officers with years of experience, know and follow the Law of War and the Rules of Engagement. Our ability or failure to do so has the potential to affect national policy. Don't believe me? Think Abu Ghraib.
The Law of War, or Law of Armed Conflict, is a set of nine rules that determine how we interact with enemy forces and civilians, and is designed to minimize human suffering. Things like: Collect and care for the wounded, whether friend or foe. Destroy no more than the mission requires.
Our Rules of Engagement provide guidance on the use of force. It seems a little silly--we fight the enemy, right? Yes, but it's far from clear who you should fight when the enemy can hide their weapons at a moment's notice and blend into the crowd. So instead we use the guidelines of a hostile act or a hostile intent. A hostile act is pretty simple to identify--someone's actively doing something to try to harm you. Hostile intent requires more judgment. Is the fertilizer in the farmer's barn being used for his crops, or is it being used to make homemade explosives for roadside bombs? Is that guy with a cell phone phoning a friend, or is he using it to trigger a nearby IED (improvised explosive device)?
We train our Marines to make split-second decisions where their lives and the lives of their buddies hang in the balance. Are some of them going to make the wrong decision--shoot the guy who was calling his friend? Or the woman who they suspected might be reaching to trigger a suicide vest and was instead reaching for a white handkerchief? Unfortunately, yes. No matter what era or what we can accomplish with technology, war is characterized by imperfect information. So we give them the tools to make those decisions and realize that hindsight is 20/20.
A quick note to brag about my Marines. We ran a physical fitness test yesterday, and I had one Marine with a perfect score, and several Marines with scores high enough to receive a certificate of recognition. I can't say it enough: my Marines are awesome.
14 April 2010
It's Not About You
When I was a candidate going through OCS, the staff there was fond of telling us that there was only one day in our Marines Corps career that was about us: our commissioning day. Every other day, whether as a candidate or as an officer, was about the enlisted Marines we would lead. Every other bit of screening (at OCS) or training (at OCS and beyond) we went through was to enable us to effectively lead them.
I failed my Marines today. I had to file paperwork for seven of my Marines stating that I could not recommend them for promotion because they did not have the required professional military education (PME) courses complete. Unfortunately, having this paperwork in their record books has the potential to negatively affect their careers later down the road. My Marines, understandably, were upset about this. Some of them had been told they had more time to complete the courses; some had the courses complete but have had difficulty getting a proctor for the test.
My platoon sergeant and I hope there's more action we can take to get some of this paperwork reversed, and will work on it tomorrow and in the coming days. Whatever happens, I have certainly learned my lesson.
This is part of the learning curve for new Lieutenants. They teach us plenty about tactics, about leadership traits and principles, about mine detectors and how to plan an obstacle breach. But they don't give us a list of administrative issues to track, or what common pitfalls to avoid, or tell us what's our job vs. our platoon
sergeant's job vs. the company staff's job. Rightfully, this is part of on-the-job training, and depends on your billet and unit. But it's pretty painful training, for me and the Marines.
I'll figure it out soon enough. I have "IT'S NOT ABOUT YOU" underlined inside the front cover of my notebook to remind myself on these days--it's not about my abilities, or what my boss thinks of me, it's about my Marines and taking care of their needs. I failed them today, and inevitably I'll do it again over some other issue. But not this.
I failed my Marines today. I had to file paperwork for seven of my Marines stating that I could not recommend them for promotion because they did not have the required professional military education (PME) courses complete. Unfortunately, having this paperwork in their record books has the potential to negatively affect their careers later down the road. My Marines, understandably, were upset about this. Some of them had been told they had more time to complete the courses; some had the courses complete but have had difficulty getting a proctor for the test.
My platoon sergeant and I hope there's more action we can take to get some of this paperwork reversed, and will work on it tomorrow and in the coming days. Whatever happens, I have certainly learned my lesson.
This is part of the learning curve for new Lieutenants. They teach us plenty about tactics, about leadership traits and principles, about mine detectors and how to plan an obstacle breach. But they don't give us a list of administrative issues to track, or what common pitfalls to avoid, or tell us what's our job vs. our platoon
sergeant's job vs. the company staff's job. Rightfully, this is part of on-the-job training, and depends on your billet and unit. But it's pretty painful training, for me and the Marines.
I'll figure it out soon enough. I have "IT'S NOT ABOUT YOU" underlined inside the front cover of my notebook to remind myself on these days--it's not about my abilities, or what my boss thinks of me, it's about my Marines and taking care of their needs. I failed them today, and inevitably I'll do it again over some other issue. But not this.
24 March 2010
What is it I do around here again?
Most of the interesting training is already done. On Sunday we took a bus back to Camp Pendleton, where we will train until we actually leave for Afghanistan. Coming down from 29 Palms, we had three busses for two platoons. My entire platoon was on a bus, and the other platoon and company staff had the other two. Space was a little cozy, but it was just our platoon, so we didn't mind.
Our three buses lasted until our rest stop, about forty-five minutes into the trip. The seal for the windshield on the bus wasn't holding, and the window was starting to pop out at the bottom. We split our platoon between the two other busses, and I ended up right over a wheel well. I rode the remaining two hours with my knees up at my chest, watching the southern California countryside roll by.
I've been in charge of my platoon for a week and a half now, and I'm still trying to figure out exactly what it is that platoon commanders do. I can think of plenty to do, but what can I contribute to the platoon? My platoon sergeant had things running pretty well before I got here, and I know if I was yanked out tomorrow for something else things would continue to run just fine. But I'm slowly carving out a spot for myself.
We sat down for a platoon staff meeting yesterday--myself, my platoon sergeant, and four of my six sergeants. One was on leave, but I didn't know where the other one was, so I asked my platoon sergeant.
"Oh, I have him doing Sergeant things, ma'am," he said.
I looked at him suspiciously. "Sergeant things" could easily mean any number of things, many of which would be not work-related at all. But I let it go. I'm quickly learning the rules of being a platoon commander, which seem to focus as much on what not to say, what not to do, and what not to know as it does what to say, what to do, and what information to gather. I thought the filter between my brain and my mouth was pretty good, but it's getting some fine-tuning right now.
I suppose I'm already getting a little jaded, but the Marines make it worth it. I asked them all to fill out some information about themselves and their families, and one of the questions I asked was what in their life are they most proud of. One of them said his moral and ethical integrity, and when I talked to him today he was quite serious about it. I've got some good Marines.
Our three buses lasted until our rest stop, about forty-five minutes into the trip. The seal for the windshield on the bus wasn't holding, and the window was starting to pop out at the bottom. We split our platoon between the two other busses, and I ended up right over a wheel well. I rode the remaining two hours with my knees up at my chest, watching the southern California countryside roll by.
I've been in charge of my platoon for a week and a half now, and I'm still trying to figure out exactly what it is that platoon commanders do. I can think of plenty to do, but what can I contribute to the platoon? My platoon sergeant had things running pretty well before I got here, and I know if I was yanked out tomorrow for something else things would continue to run just fine. But I'm slowly carving out a spot for myself.
We sat down for a platoon staff meeting yesterday--myself, my platoon sergeant, and four of my six sergeants. One was on leave, but I didn't know where the other one was, so I asked my platoon sergeant.
"Oh, I have him doing Sergeant things, ma'am," he said.
I looked at him suspiciously. "Sergeant things" could easily mean any number of things, many of which would be not work-related at all. But I let it go. I'm quickly learning the rules of being a platoon commander, which seem to focus as much on what not to say, what not to do, and what not to know as it does what to say, what to do, and what information to gather. I thought the filter between my brain and my mouth was pretty good, but it's getting some fine-tuning right now.
I suppose I'm already getting a little jaded, but the Marines make it worth it. I asked them all to fill out some information about themselves and their families, and one of the questions I asked was what in their life are they most proud of. One of them said his moral and ethical integrity, and when I talked to him today he was quite serious about it. I've got some good Marines.
18 February 2010
How Many Candidates are at Medical?
One of the ways they evaluate candidates at OCS is by giving the candidates 'billets', or putting them in charge of other candidates for a short amount of time to see if they can handle the responsibility. In your candidate regulations, they give you a list of expectations for the duration of your billet, and one of the items on this list is to always know the whereabouts of everyone you are responsible for. This was called 'having accountability', and it was a somewhat different concept than how I was accustomed to using the word in the civilian world.
When I first read this, I thought they had to be kidding. How in the world are you supposed to keep track of everybody you are in charge of every single moment of the day, especially given the chaos of Officer Candidate School? Candidates running here and there, Sergeant Instructors yelling at you if you looked sideways--how could you remember a list of forty or fifty names and locations and be able to recall any one of them at a moment's notice, if you were asked? It didn't seem like a do-able task.
Of course, I wasn't the only candidate that didn't get it, and the instructors knew this. Most of the time if a candidate didn't have proper accountability they would get a pleasant explanation about how a lapse of accountability was about the worst thing that could possibly happen. It could get Marines killed, given a chance you would probably repeat this mistake and get Marines killed, and they were just itching for a chance to send you home before such a thing happened. Now, you could easily get this same lecture about any number of minor mistakes (Your boots are dirty? Canteens not labeled properly? Horrors! You're going to get Marines killed some day!), so I tended to take all such lectures with a grain of salt.*
Well. Some time around the fourth week of OCS I was given the billet of Candidate Platoon Guide. This meant that I assisted the Candidate Platoon Sergeant in running the platoon, but that I was not directly responsible to an instructor for anything. The Candidate Platoon Sergeant was the one primarily responsible for having accountability of the platoon. They were the candidate responsible for keeping track of all 40 or 50 candidates in the platoon and being able to cough up the whereabouts of any given candidate at any given time. (Yes, they wrote it down. Checking your notes was permitted when you were asked where someone was.)
My first day in the billet, when the candidates were standing in line for lunch, the Candidate Platoon Sergeant and I were standing outside the formation discussing platoon business. Or maybe we were just talking and waiting for lunch--I don't remember--but as billet holders we were allowed to stand outside formation and hold quiet discussions. As we were standing there, one of our Sergeant Instructors walked up and asked the Candidate Platoon Sergeant how many candidates from our platoon were at medical. She obviously knew that the Candidate Platoon Sergeant wouldn't know the answer, because she held up nine fingers as she waited for the answer. The Candidate Platoon Sergeant must not have seen the hint, because she answered, "Ten, Gunnery Sergeant." Our Sergeant Instructor wiggled her fingers and asked again.
As I stood there waiting for the Candidate Platoon Sergeant to catch on, I finally got it. I realized that during what had seemed like perfect chaos to me for the past four weeks, our Sergeant Instructor knew exactly where every candidate was at all times. And she wasn't the only one--our other Sergeant Instructors knew exactly where every candidate was as well. Even our Platoon Commander would be able to give an accounting for any candidate at any given moment, although I suspected she would ask a Sergeant Instructor. (That's how the system works.) I also decided that if they could have perfect accountability, then I could, too, and I decided that once I was given an evaluated billet, I would have perfect accountability.
The Candidate Platoon Sergeant caught on, and answered again: "Nine, Gunnery Sergeant." Our Sergeant Instructor said, "Very well", and went into the chow hall. No yelling, no theatrics, just "very well" and went inside. I wasn't the target of that teachable moment, but I learned more from that short conversation than I did from any other period of instruction at OCS.
I did have a lapse of accountability when I had my billet as Candidate Platoon Commander a week later. I had just been chewed out by our Platoon Sergeant, I was distracted, and I failed to notice that two Marines hadn't come to evening chow with us. Then I reported incorrect numbers to our Platoon Commander. You can bet I gleaned some more learning from that mistake.
Accountability is one of the most important concepts in the Marine Corps--accountability for your Marines, for your gear, for everything. And this is one case where our Sergeant Instructors weren't exaggerating even a tiny bit. If you fail to have accountability and leave a Marine on the battlefield or even outside the wire, you will likely be writing a letter to that Marine's parents or spouse. It was a concept that I was completely unfamiliar with as a civilian, but is absolutely crucial for Marines.
In just over one short week, I will be accountable for 41 Marines. This responsibility weighs on me more heavily than any other I've had in my life. I know I've been given the tools to successfully lead my Marines--now it's time to put them to use.
*Please note that I'm not trying to comment on the methods used to train and evaluate candidates. It's the instructors' jobs to create chaos and stress for the candidates, it's an important job, and they do it very well. (Very well.) I'm simply trying to give you an idea of what it's like at OCS.
When I first read this, I thought they had to be kidding. How in the world are you supposed to keep track of everybody you are in charge of every single moment of the day, especially given the chaos of Officer Candidate School? Candidates running here and there, Sergeant Instructors yelling at you if you looked sideways--how could you remember a list of forty or fifty names and locations and be able to recall any one of them at a moment's notice, if you were asked? It didn't seem like a do-able task.
Of course, I wasn't the only candidate that didn't get it, and the instructors knew this. Most of the time if a candidate didn't have proper accountability they would get a pleasant explanation about how a lapse of accountability was about the worst thing that could possibly happen. It could get Marines killed, given a chance you would probably repeat this mistake and get Marines killed, and they were just itching for a chance to send you home before such a thing happened. Now, you could easily get this same lecture about any number of minor mistakes (Your boots are dirty? Canteens not labeled properly? Horrors! You're going to get Marines killed some day!), so I tended to take all such lectures with a grain of salt.*
Well. Some time around the fourth week of OCS I was given the billet of Candidate Platoon Guide. This meant that I assisted the Candidate Platoon Sergeant in running the platoon, but that I was not directly responsible to an instructor for anything. The Candidate Platoon Sergeant was the one primarily responsible for having accountability of the platoon. They were the candidate responsible for keeping track of all 40 or 50 candidates in the platoon and being able to cough up the whereabouts of any given candidate at any given time. (Yes, they wrote it down. Checking your notes was permitted when you were asked where someone was.)
My first day in the billet, when the candidates were standing in line for lunch, the Candidate Platoon Sergeant and I were standing outside the formation discussing platoon business. Or maybe we were just talking and waiting for lunch--I don't remember--but as billet holders we were allowed to stand outside formation and hold quiet discussions. As we were standing there, one of our Sergeant Instructors walked up and asked the Candidate Platoon Sergeant how many candidates from our platoon were at medical. She obviously knew that the Candidate Platoon Sergeant wouldn't know the answer, because she held up nine fingers as she waited for the answer. The Candidate Platoon Sergeant must not have seen the hint, because she answered, "Ten, Gunnery Sergeant." Our Sergeant Instructor wiggled her fingers and asked again.
As I stood there waiting for the Candidate Platoon Sergeant to catch on, I finally got it. I realized that during what had seemed like perfect chaos to me for the past four weeks, our Sergeant Instructor knew exactly where every candidate was at all times. And she wasn't the only one--our other Sergeant Instructors knew exactly where every candidate was as well. Even our Platoon Commander would be able to give an accounting for any candidate at any given moment, although I suspected she would ask a Sergeant Instructor. (That's how the system works.) I also decided that if they could have perfect accountability, then I could, too, and I decided that once I was given an evaluated billet, I would have perfect accountability.
The Candidate Platoon Sergeant caught on, and answered again: "Nine, Gunnery Sergeant." Our Sergeant Instructor said, "Very well", and went into the chow hall. No yelling, no theatrics, just "very well" and went inside. I wasn't the target of that teachable moment, but I learned more from that short conversation than I did from any other period of instruction at OCS.
I did have a lapse of accountability when I had my billet as Candidate Platoon Commander a week later. I had just been chewed out by our Platoon Sergeant, I was distracted, and I failed to notice that two Marines hadn't come to evening chow with us. Then I reported incorrect numbers to our Platoon Commander. You can bet I gleaned some more learning from that mistake.
Accountability is one of the most important concepts in the Marine Corps--accountability for your Marines, for your gear, for everything. And this is one case where our Sergeant Instructors weren't exaggerating even a tiny bit. If you fail to have accountability and leave a Marine on the battlefield or even outside the wire, you will likely be writing a letter to that Marine's parents or spouse. It was a concept that I was completely unfamiliar with as a civilian, but is absolutely crucial for Marines.
In just over one short week, I will be accountable for 41 Marines. This responsibility weighs on me more heavily than any other I've had in my life. I know I've been given the tools to successfully lead my Marines--now it's time to put them to use.
*Please note that I'm not trying to comment on the methods used to train and evaluate candidates. It's the instructors' jobs to create chaos and stress for the candidates, it's an important job, and they do it very well. (Very well.) I'm simply trying to give you an idea of what it's like at OCS.
06 January 2010
Special Trust and Confidence
One of the privileges of being an officer is promoting Marines and recognizing Marines for their accomplishments. This morning, one of the Gunnery Sergeants that's an advisor for one of the enlisted classes asked if anyone in the class would volunteer to do a promotion ceremony today. I eagerly volunteered, and was looking forward to it, but it fell through. So I'll just have to tell you about the other promotion ceremonies I've done.
Only an officer of senior rank can promote a Marine. Authorization for the promotion comes from higher up; for the promotion ceremonies I've done, promoting Privates to Privates First Class, our Company Commander, a Major, is the promotion authority. My function is to represent him in the ceremony. If circumstances prevent a commissioned officer from performing the ceremony, I've been told that Staff NCOs can substitute. But since they have plenty of commissioned officers here at the schoolhouse, we get to do it.
The first promotion ceremony I did, I was quite nervous, because I didn't want to mess up the Marines' promotion. Fortunately, the Staff NCOs here are accustomed to new Lts doing the ceremonies, and the Gunny coached me through it. The Gunny formed the platoon and called them to attention. I marched to the front of the formation, and the Gunny saluted and reported the platoon to me: "Good afternoon, ma'am. BCE-X is formed and ready for promotion."
I saluted back and said something appropriate that I don't remember, probably something like "Very Well."
The Gunny took his post and read the promotion warrant. "To all who shall see these presents, greetings. Know ye, that reposing special trust and confidence in the fidelity and abilities of ..." [Here, the Gunny read the names of all the Marines to be promoted; there were seven in my first ceremony.] "...I do appoint this Marine a Private First Class in the United States Marine Corps, to rank as such from the first day of November, two thousand and nine.
"This appointee will therefore carefully and diligently discharge the duties of the grade to which appointed by doing and performing all manner of things thereunto pertaining. And I do strictly charge and require all personnel of lesser grade to render obedience to appropriate orders. And this appointee is to observe and follow such orders and directions as may given from time to time by superiors acting according to the rules and articles governing the discipline of the armed forces of the United States of America.
"Given under my hand at Marine Corps Engineer School, this first day of November, in the year of our Lord two thousand nine. [CO's name], Major, USMC Commanding."
The seven Privates were standing at attention in a line in front of the rest of the platoon. The Gunny and I stepped over to the one on the far left. He was holding his chevrons in his hand (chevrons are the pins that indicate what rank an enlisted Marine holds). We each pinned one on, then the Gunny handed me the new Private First Class' certificate. I gave it to him, shook his hand, and congratulated him. We went down the line, pinning on each new PFC and giving him his certificate.
Once all seven had been pinned on, I stepped back in front of the platoon, and called the Gunny up:
"Gunnery Sergeant, front and center!"
The Gunny marched up in front of me.
"Gunnery Sergeant, take charge of the platoon, and carry out the plan of the day."
The Gunny saluted. "Aye, aye, ma'am."
I saluted back, then left-faced and marched off.
In a promotion ceremony for an NCO or an officer, the oath of office will be re-administered, and the CO and/or the Marine will address the Marines assembled. It's also common for someone important to pin the Marine's new rank on.
Rank is important to Marines. It awards both responsibility and privilege, is not given lightly, and can be revoked for poor performance or behavior. (This is not a joke. In my single year in the Marine Corps, I have met more than one Marine that has been reduced in rank.) It was my privilege to award these Marines their first promotion, and I look forward to the promotions I will get to do for my Marines in the years ahead.
Only an officer of senior rank can promote a Marine. Authorization for the promotion comes from higher up; for the promotion ceremonies I've done, promoting Privates to Privates First Class, our Company Commander, a Major, is the promotion authority. My function is to represent him in the ceremony. If circumstances prevent a commissioned officer from performing the ceremony, I've been told that Staff NCOs can substitute. But since they have plenty of commissioned officers here at the schoolhouse, we get to do it.
The first promotion ceremony I did, I was quite nervous, because I didn't want to mess up the Marines' promotion. Fortunately, the Staff NCOs here are accustomed to new Lts doing the ceremonies, and the Gunny coached me through it. The Gunny formed the platoon and called them to attention. I marched to the front of the formation, and the Gunny saluted and reported the platoon to me: "Good afternoon, ma'am. BCE-X is formed and ready for promotion."
I saluted back and said something appropriate that I don't remember, probably something like "Very Well."
The Gunny took his post and read the promotion warrant. "To all who shall see these presents, greetings. Know ye, that reposing special trust and confidence in the fidelity and abilities of ..." [Here, the Gunny read the names of all the Marines to be promoted; there were seven in my first ceremony.] "...I do appoint this Marine a Private First Class in the United States Marine Corps, to rank as such from the first day of November, two thousand and nine.
"This appointee will therefore carefully and diligently discharge the duties of the grade to which appointed by doing and performing all manner of things thereunto pertaining. And I do strictly charge and require all personnel of lesser grade to render obedience to appropriate orders. And this appointee is to observe and follow such orders and directions as may given from time to time by superiors acting according to the rules and articles governing the discipline of the armed forces of the United States of America.
"Given under my hand at Marine Corps Engineer School, this first day of November, in the year of our Lord two thousand nine. [CO's name], Major, USMC Commanding."
The seven Privates were standing at attention in a line in front of the rest of the platoon. The Gunny and I stepped over to the one on the far left. He was holding his chevrons in his hand (chevrons are the pins that indicate what rank an enlisted Marine holds). We each pinned one on, then the Gunny handed me the new Private First Class' certificate. I gave it to him, shook his hand, and congratulated him. We went down the line, pinning on each new PFC and giving him his certificate.
Once all seven had been pinned on, I stepped back in front of the platoon, and called the Gunny up:
"Gunnery Sergeant, front and center!"
The Gunny marched up in front of me.
"Gunnery Sergeant, take charge of the platoon, and carry out the plan of the day."
The Gunny saluted. "Aye, aye, ma'am."
I saluted back, then left-faced and marched off.
In a promotion ceremony for an NCO or an officer, the oath of office will be re-administered, and the CO and/or the Marine will address the Marines assembled. It's also common for someone important to pin the Marine's new rank on.
Rank is important to Marines. It awards both responsibility and privilege, is not given lightly, and can be revoked for poor performance or behavior. (This is not a joke. In my single year in the Marine Corps, I have met more than one Marine that has been reduced in rank.) It was my privilege to award these Marines their first promotion, and I look forward to the promotions I will get to do for my Marines in the years ahead.
12 December 2009
Leading Marines in the 21st Century
One year ago today I was given the right to call myself a Marine. I was going to try to think up something profound to say for the occasion. Then I came into work yesterday.
Some background. Enlisted Marines also go through engineer school; their curriculum takes about two months, ours takes three and a half. Their classes are 20-30 Marines, mostly consisting of Privates and Privates First Class with the odd Lance Corporal in the mix. They typically go to boot camp, get their 10 days boot leave, go through a month of Marine Combat Training (infantry training for non-infantry Marines), then come here. Some of them graduated from high school in June, some worked for a year or two after high school, a few worked for several years.
Marines get safety briefs before they go on leave or liberty to remind them that they are valuable to their units and to encourage them not to do things that will result in injury or brig/jail time. For special liberty periods (three- or four-day weekends, days off in the middle of the week, etc.), they will typically get more extensive or varied safety briefs. We've had many of these special liberty periods lately, and some time in the past couple months, the Marines got a brief from our Substance Abuse Control Officer (SACO). In this brief, he told them, among other things, about some new ways that Marines have been getting high lately, and added that the Marine Corps couldn't test for them.
Well, guess what? There was an inspection in the barracks this past Thursday night, and they found drug paraphernalia as well as raw materials to do exactly what the SACO told them. An entire class of 20-30 enlisted Marines was implicated. They're obviously all in a whole boatload of trouble right now, and it's an embarrassment to my company, but as someone that is not involved in the situation, I have the luxury of stepping back to ask my questions.
First of all, given the magnitude of the wrong-doing, what mix of discipline and punishment is appropriate? (The object of discipline being a modification of behavior, the object of punishment being to deter others from making the same mistake.)
More importantly, what could have been done to prevent something like this? (Aside from the obvious: don't give them "safety briefs" telling them new ways to get high. But they can come up with this stuff on their own, too.) It's likely that this was started by two or three Marines that drew the rest of the class in. All it would have taken to severely limit or completely shut them down would have been one Marine that had the courage to tell them they were wrong and to report them if they didn't stop.
Where did we fail the Marines? Moral leadership is part of our profession; where was that breakdown? Additional safety briefs likely wouldn't have made a difference, but on some level they didn't receive the moral leadership they needed. Given the circumstances of how and when they get here, it's possible that there's nothing we could have done to prevent this. But if there was, what signs did we miss that indicated that something needed to be done?
It's unlikely I'll run into a problem of this magnitude in the operating forces, as regular platoons have NCO leadership to stem problems like this. But I've heard multiple other first-hand stories with similar wrong-doing and implications. How can I impress upon my Marines the importance of upright character and moral courage?
This is the heart of what it means to lead Marines: asking what are my Marines' deficiencies? Professional? Physical? Moral? Then helping them become better Marines, better people.
Yesterday, as I was walking out of class, a bunch of Marines were lined up in the hall, waiting to talk to the First Sergeant. They knew that I knew why they were there, but one of them didn't forget that she was a Marine: she gave me the proper greeting of the day as I passed.
They make mistakes, but they're still Marines, and they're still our Marines. Hopefully the rest of them will remember that, too.
Some background. Enlisted Marines also go through engineer school; their curriculum takes about two months, ours takes three and a half. Their classes are 20-30 Marines, mostly consisting of Privates and Privates First Class with the odd Lance Corporal in the mix. They typically go to boot camp, get their 10 days boot leave, go through a month of Marine Combat Training (infantry training for non-infantry Marines), then come here. Some of them graduated from high school in June, some worked for a year or two after high school, a few worked for several years.
Marines get safety briefs before they go on leave or liberty to remind them that they are valuable to their units and to encourage them not to do things that will result in injury or brig/jail time. For special liberty periods (three- or four-day weekends, days off in the middle of the week, etc.), they will typically get more extensive or varied safety briefs. We've had many of these special liberty periods lately, and some time in the past couple months, the Marines got a brief from our Substance Abuse Control Officer (SACO). In this brief, he told them, among other things, about some new ways that Marines have been getting high lately, and added that the Marine Corps couldn't test for them.
Well, guess what? There was an inspection in the barracks this past Thursday night, and they found drug paraphernalia as well as raw materials to do exactly what the SACO told them. An entire class of 20-30 enlisted Marines was implicated. They're obviously all in a whole boatload of trouble right now, and it's an embarrassment to my company, but as someone that is not involved in the situation, I have the luxury of stepping back to ask my questions.
First of all, given the magnitude of the wrong-doing, what mix of discipline and punishment is appropriate? (The object of discipline being a modification of behavior, the object of punishment being to deter others from making the same mistake.)
More importantly, what could have been done to prevent something like this? (Aside from the obvious: don't give them "safety briefs" telling them new ways to get high. But they can come up with this stuff on their own, too.) It's likely that this was started by two or three Marines that drew the rest of the class in. All it would have taken to severely limit or completely shut them down would have been one Marine that had the courage to tell them they were wrong and to report them if they didn't stop.
Where did we fail the Marines? Moral leadership is part of our profession; where was that breakdown? Additional safety briefs likely wouldn't have made a difference, but on some level they didn't receive the moral leadership they needed. Given the circumstances of how and when they get here, it's possible that there's nothing we could have done to prevent this. But if there was, what signs did we miss that indicated that something needed to be done?
It's unlikely I'll run into a problem of this magnitude in the operating forces, as regular platoons have NCO leadership to stem problems like this. But I've heard multiple other first-hand stories with similar wrong-doing and implications. How can I impress upon my Marines the importance of upright character and moral courage?
This is the heart of what it means to lead Marines: asking what are my Marines' deficiencies? Professional? Physical? Moral? Then helping them become better Marines, better people.
Yesterday, as I was walking out of class, a bunch of Marines were lined up in the hall, waiting to talk to the First Sergeant. They knew that I knew why they were there, but one of them didn't forget that she was a Marine: she gave me the proper greeting of the day as I passed.
They make mistakes, but they're still Marines, and they're still our Marines. Hopefully the rest of them will remember that, too.
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