None of us liked the man. A few of us probably hated him. During our first drill session, we learned that he knew all this and didn't give a damn. "You know why those barrels are cut?" he asked, referring to the MI rifles lying dismantled at our feet. "It's so none of you spend your first liberty shopping for a bullet with my name on it." As prone to sarcasm as our drill instructor usually was, he was deadly serious about this.
Those first weeks at Officer Candidate School (OCS) demanded more of our minds and bodies than most of us thought we could give, and the Marine gunnery sergeant responsible for our pain knew it. But he also knew the bitterness was temporary. With time, we would begin to understand why we were forced through such pain. And as our training neared its end and we reflected upon the change within ourselves, we would come to thank him.
As the Marine who ruled us was reshaping our bodies and minds, I doubt whether any of us paused to consider the nature of our maturing relationship. In some ways, it was too absurd to contemplate. We were coming to revere a man most of us had despised a few weeks earlier. It was only after graduating from OCS that I gained enough mental distance to appreciate the valuable lessons of my drill instructor's leadership.
The DI's Way
One of the most daunting leadership challenges that junior officers like myself face upon arriving in the fleet is the alignment of our own goals with those of our subordinates. This is something my DI understood intimately, and he applied it with great effect throughout training. After 13 weeks under his wing, we became officers "not just by title, but by heart," as Gunny often said. He gave us a pride we never knew existed. Before long, we went to extremes to live up to our DI's expectations. His goal of building officers worthy of his training had become ours.
Transforming his ideals into our own was undoubtedly the most significant challenge our drill instructor faced. But as many push-ups as we were forced to do, Gunny knew that something so internal could never be beaten into us. For us to want to adopt his goals, he needed far more than our sweat. He needed our loyalty. Watching him earn it was perhaps the greatest lesson in leadership we ever received. To command even a fraction of such loyalty would make us exceptional junior officers.
Drill instructors do not demand loyalty. They demand respect and obedience, but they know that loyalty must be earned. In earning it, their most important task is proving that the interests of those they lead are paramount. As junior officers we should adopt a similar approach. In order to follow such an example, however, we must first consider our own professional goals, ensuring that they are compatible with the best interests of our subordinates. If not, then an attitude change is in order. Selfish priorities only become more obvious with time. Soon enough, their hollowness becomes apparent not only to those one is meant to lead but also to the superiors who will determine the course of a career. Former CNO Admiral Thomas Moorer put it best: "Young officers should not spend their time trying to impress seniors. On the contrary, they should spend their time trying to impress those that work for them. . . . They are the ones that make them look good."
Only after prioritizing concern for our people can we legitimately begin to work for them. Unfortunately, supporting a sailor's welfare does not always make a leader more popular. As junior officers, we will sometimes find ourselves appreciating long-term interests that a subordinate does not at first understand. Drill instructors constantly experience this: rifle drill at first seemed pointless, but our DI knew that through it our discipline was growing daily. Likewise, most junior officers will have to discipline a seaman someday. Subordinates will probably be resentful initially, but if their best interests always are placed first, and fairness always is maintained, respect eventually follows.
With the welfare of one's crewmembers at heart, the junior officer is as close to winning their loyalty as most will ever get. Only one element remains, but it is something which few officers in the fleet-least of all junior officers-are able to convey. It is conviction. Belief in a mission is the best motivator there is. Yet rare is the junior officer confident enough in his own conviction to impart similar energy to those he leads. To truly command the loyalty of those under us, we must demonstrate a steadfast belief in our mission. The men and women we lead will give us their best only if they feel devoted to something greater than themselves and their superiors.
At OCS, I constantly was reminded of the great responsibility with which I would soon be charged. As junior officers, we should take similar opportunities to remind our subordinates of the role they each play in maintaining America's freedom. Many of them probably enlisted for other reasons, but by being openly proud of one's conviction, a junior officer's devotion can spread. With time, our people will increasingly value their work and themselves, and the officer responsible will have won the most valuable asset any leader can claim-a loyal crew.
Investing Values
Having won a crew's loyalty, the junior officer can set about preparing it for self-sustaining mission readiness; that is, the crew will be able to carry out an assigned mission without its leader. The Marine Corps has for years understood this to be the ultimate state of readiness, in that a unit's mission need not be abandoned if its leader is ever lost. Traditionally, our officers have chosen one of two approaches toward preparing for their mission. A leader may elect to directly manage the effort, overseeing details to ensure that schedules are met and nothing is forgotten. Alternatively, a leader who has won the loyalty of his subordinates will simply provide guidance in terms of ideas and values, leaving the details to his people.
It is this latter approach which we as junior officers should strive to adopt. A crew that can be trusted to carry out the intentions of its leader, that instinctively understands and believes in the leader's values, is the better warfighting unit. Even without the leader present, the mission will continue because his or her goals survive. Nine weeks into OCS, my class proved that it had been well prepared. While our drill instructor assumed the responsibility of an incoming class, we continued our training with a bare minimum of supervision, doing our utmost to remain true to the expectations of our DI. As a class and as individuals we retained the goals of our leader. I have met with my drill instructor only once since leaving OCS (to show him this essay), but the values he invested in me are as alive now as when I returned his first salute on graduation day. In some respects, a successful leader like my drill instructor will make himself redundant.
As junior officers, however, we must go beyond preparing our people for the present mission. We must look to the future to ensure that no challenge to our mission arises unexpectedly.
Officers for a Reason
The tradition of separate commissioned and non-commissioned ranks exists for a reason. As officers, we assume professional burdens that those serving under us do not. Though our mission may depend on our enlisted crews, we have the unique responsibility of anticipating future challenges and preparing our people before problems arise. In this respect, our approach to leadership must differ from the drill instructor's. We are officers for a reason. In order to focus on the future, however, we must gain enough trust in our subordinates to leave the details of the present in their hands. In scrutinizing our own professional aspirations, prioritizing the welfare of our crew, conveying a sense of conviction, and investing our ideas and values in the people we lead, the end result should be a crew so loyal to our goals that we are left free to look ahead, always preparing for future challenges to our mission.
As junior officers, we have relatively little control over the material aspect of mission readiness. But we make a significant impact on the personnel side, ensuring that our subordinates are as prepared as possible. To deserve such an awesome responsibility, we have to appreciate the many dimensions it entails. We cannot simply issue orders. Our people must first be motivated, and to do that we must place their welfare above our own. Equally important, we must use our own convictions to inspire those we lead.
Having won the loyalty of our subordinates, we must set about preparing them to function without us. Our basic values should become so invested in our crew, and their ideas about mission readiness so aligned with ours, that we are no longer required for day-to-day operations. If we are incapacitated in any way, our crew will be able to continue its mission. And during peacetime, a crew so easily trusted frees us to concentrate on future challenges.
Today, those of us who left OCS with our drill instructor's values implanted, who will see to it that the people we lead are always ready, can proudly claim to be officers by heart. As for the Marine who trained us: all of us like the man, and a few of us probably worship him.