Things My Sergeants Taught Me

Today is Veteran’s Day, so it gave me a chance to reflect on some of my experiences while serving. I served for 9 years in the USAF, including a tour to the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia during Desert Storm.  During my service, I met a lot of exceptional people. Some were truly great leaders – even if they weren’t my leader. I learned some great lessons in leadership from them. As they are in my thoughts today, I decided to put some into writing. Here goes:

Doing Something Imperfectly Now is Usually Better than Doing Something Perfect Later

My specialty code was an Engineering Assistant, and we worked in all forms of engineering tasks needed to keep an Air Force Base operational. We would survey the base, design new facilities - whether it be roads, buildings or sewer lines (I was involved in a sewer rehab project on Holloman AFB – I had to open and measure every manhole on the base – to this day I notice every manhole I walk by), monitor the construction of said projects, do soil and concrete testing, and various related jobs. In wartime, we did the same things, except while carrying an M16 (sometimes at least – most often they were locked in the armory) and doing it faster with lower standards of quality. As a matter of fact, that was a key lesson we had to learn. In out Tech School, we spent a considerable amount of time studying and practicing surveying. We were diligent in developing skills to do highly precise measurements. When we did our regular peacetime design work, precision and accuracy were very important to us. We would double our surveys to get a more accurate reading and correct for any equipment errors.

Pretty early on my first base, I was in my first exercise – that’s what we called our wargames where we practiced wartime skills. I had an assignment to set up a small tent city in preparation for troops being deployed in. My job would be to lay out and setup stakes for all of the facilities. I started to get out some survey equipment, and Sgt Bennett, one of the NCOs (that’s non-commissioned officers for those who might not know – sergeants) over me stopped me and gruffly asked what I was doing. I explained my plan to survey the site. He chuckled and asked me how long I thought that would take. I told him I thought it would take a few hours (I was pretty quick actually). He then explained to me that the aircraft were coming in to drop of the troops, and they would have to be able to get in and settled before nightfall, and after I laid out the stakes, crews still had to put up all the tents, lay the utility lines and do all the other things necessary to get the base ready. He showed me some techniques to do a fair job in the field quickly. I was a little worried that I would not be as proficient at getting the distances correct without practice. He then told me that “Doing something now, even if it wasn’t perfect, would be a lot more important than doing it perfectly later.” Getting it done right after the fact didn’t help anybody.

While this doesn’t apply all the time, it applies a lot more often than we might think. It also helps keep us from analysis paralysis – where we fuss over the right way to do it until it is too late. The lesson is that we should act early and more often. We can alter the course as we go if necessary. I saw a very specific example of this while in Desert Storm. In Riyadh, there was an Army engineer, Major English (I’ll talk more about him later) who during the US attack on Iraq and occupied Kuwait had the responsibility to provide heliports for the Army to base their attack helicopter units from. The attack went so rapidly that by the time Major English and his men could get a base built, the advance had gone too far for them to be useful. They had to quickly adapt to some expedient techniques for the helicopters to be useful. And the helicopter turned out to be one of the most critical weapons in the fight.

Take a Step Back and Breathe

One of my first leadership lessons in the USAF, was during Basic Training. While the physical training was important, the biggest part of the USAF basic training was mental. Mind games were the biggest element. One of the “games” we played was being a Dorm Guard. Each flight (the basic group of a basic training unit – there were four 12 man squads in a flight) had to have a guard on the door 24 hours a day. We were to assign people in 2 hour shifts. The Dorm Guard was supposed to stand at the door – which was always locked and operated by a standard push bar to unlock – and assure that only authorized people came in and out. There was a list of those by the door.  Nobody else was supposed to come in. There was a little sign that presented a script to follow “Sir, May I help you?” “Sir, May I see your authority to enter access or military ID card, sir” and finally, “Sir, May I refer you to the orderly room.” I was in an all-male squadron, so we didn’t use Ma’am much.  Of course, we were all exhausted, mentally frazzled by a constant barrage of orders, and stressed about getting every detail right. It is surprising how completely unnerving a screaming, drooling NCO can make you forget all of your instructions. It was quite the game for TI’s (Training Instructors) to try to get into other flight rooms (only the TI’s for that flight were allowed in). Even after constant drilling, a TI would get their face in the window, yell and threaten the poor airman at the door, and he would let him and then the poor slob would get reamed. A few mistakes could get someone recycled – sent to start training over.

Our TI, Sgt Hermann gave us the secret. He told us not to stand close to the door. When you were too close to the door, it was too easy to lean against the panic bar and open the door. He said to step back away from the door and to take a breath. That would give you a fraction of a moment to keep from panicking and get yourself composed. Then it became kind of fun watching the TI’s yell and scream. Stepping back and taking that breath gave us a completely different perspective.

Little Johnny

In the Basic Training Squadron, flights would be paired up – called sister flights. Our sister flight had a TI – Tech Sgt Conway. TSgt Conway was a Blue Rope – that signified his exceptional skill and experience as a TI – far more than the average TI. TSgt Conway may have been one of the best. He could curdle milk with a look, and could start a tsunami when he started yelling – oh, wait, he never yelled. He enunciated. Let’s just say he was intense. TSgt Conway taught me a valuable lesson about training and letting people learn for themselves. He told us the story of Little Johnny. Now Little Johnny is the kid who just doesn’t seem to get it. Anything. He can’t seem to do anything by himself. But Little Johnny is a nice guy, and nobody wants to see him fail, so we help him along. Maybe we carry his load and do things for him so he can keep up. It’s just being a good team right? This carry’s on through basic training, and on through tech school. You do his homework so he can pass. Make sure he is supported on every assignment.
Now, let’s fast forward 10 years. You have a new assignment to go to Germany for several years. So you pack your family and you’re all getting on the airplane to go. You hear someone call, and you can see Little Johnny waving to you. You see the wrench and rag in his hand and realize he has been working on the plane you are getting on. Now how do you feel about getting on the plane? Or your family getting on the plane? Carrying someone’s load during training doesn’t help them or anyone else. People need to learn for themselves and too much support can actually hurt them – and others that need to rely on them.

Rats in a Hole

Several years after Basic Training, I was stationed at Holloman AFB near Alamogordo, NM. I was now an NCO. We were having an ORI – Operational Readiness Inspection (a type of wargame conducted by the Major Command – in this case, Tactical Air Command – to judge our war fighting capability). I was in the Survival Recovery Center ( the base central control center during an attack – had Civil Engineers, cops, and representatives from all the critical groups on base to recover from an attack). One of the inspectors came and handed me a card denoting that I had died to take me out of play and see how they would react without my skill set. Well, in my “death”, I was sent to go outside to hang out in the back of a cargo trucks with the rest of our “fatalities.” With me was a brand new lieutenant (just under two weeks out of school) I was assigned to “look after” and show the ropes. In the back of the truck we had the chance to observe the operations of our troops.

Another one of our “fatalities” was Master Sgt Smith, or Smitty. Smitty was a height challenged (~5’4”) black man from an inner city area in Maryland. He was also a bit of a body builder. His shoulders were about as wide as his height. Up to this point, I really didn’t think much of MSgt Smitty. He was pretty brash and a bit of a loudmouth with a pretty strong attitude. Very much like some of the stereotypical gang bangers of the media – I'll just say we were not really complimentary personalities. As I would learn, I just didn't know him very well. That day, though, MSgt Smith taught me a lesson in leadership I have never forgotten. In the back of the truck, we were explaining what was going on to my lieutenant. Smitty started telling us to watch. He said it would be like watching rats in a hole. Soon, we started seeing movement in the various foxholes and bunkers. His troops weren’t waiting for all clear signals, they were all independently getting busy and checking each other out for casualties or wounds, checking for equipment and facility damage so they could get back into action quickly. They couldn’t see or tell if the rest of their team was functioning or not yet, they were just all taking the actions they could. When the all clear signal came, they were immediately back in action and reformed into a cohesive team. MSgt Smitty explained that they each man knew the team’s mission – down to the last man. When they lost communication with their leaders – or lost their leaders, they stepped up to take on that role to keep the mission going. I recognized that right there, keeping your team in the dark and feeding them only enough information to fulfill the immediate task keeps people from getting engaged. When they know the mission, and their place in accomplishing the mission, they all get engaged. Since I’ve been out of the military, I see many companies have no idea of their mission, and their employees are not engaged – or if they are, they are often working at cross purposes.
I also learned that the cover of a book doesn't always give away the contents...

Best Job I’ve Ever Had

The last lesson I’ll mention, is from Major English. The Army engineer doing heliports I mentioned earlier. When I met him, he was managing a number of construction projects around Riyadh in Saudi Arabia. Major English was a tall black man who was quite a storyteller and had a great sense of humor. I don’t know if I ever met anyone who stayed so even tempered regardless of what was going on. He would say his job was the best job he’d ever had. He would say this even when something really obnoxious was going on and you just knew it couldn’t be true. One day he explained it to me. He said that it was all about attitude. He could get frustrated by the things going on and hate his job, but that would only make him miserable. When he said “This is the best job ever” he was making a statement of purpose, not just expressing a condition. He was choosing to make it the best job ever. As a result, he was very effective, and pretty consistently having a good time. Call it a positive affirmation if you like, but I saw that he made a choice to have a good job, and so that was what he had. While I may not have perfected this concept, I definitely see the effect as I choose to have a great day or have a great job.