|
Please Don't Miss and
|
|
Monday, 31 July 2006
|
|
NCOs are GOD!
Contributed by Shane Briscoe A "Best of Old War Dogs" featured post. The webmaster is using a bogus timestamp to keep this post near the top of the blog for a while. Please scroll down for newer posts. This item was originally posted 2006.07.20.09:33. This is my first official self-written post on Old War Dogs and I have to explain something: I am not an Old War Dog. I am old, yes. Not ancient at 57, but no longer a young pup, by any means. I am a dog, yes, according to my wife and friends, at times. But as for the war part, well, all you have to do is check out my profile and you will see that the only piece of fruit salad up there is the National Defense Service Medal, or what we used to call the "I was alive in '65" medal. I often joke to people that I am the ultimate Vietnam draft dodger: I sat out the war at West Point and when I graduated, Vietnam was winding down and I never got tapped to go. It was therefore an honor (and I shouldn't be surprised at the welcoming attitude of my brothers in arms, but I always am) to be invited to become an Old War Dog. I see that I am not the only former officer on the blog list, but I was first turned on to Old War Dogs by the great Russ Vaughn, as well as through the kindness of Bill Faith, two old NCOs. I note that most of the Old War Dogs are former NCOs, so I thought that as my first act of duty, I needed to expound on one of life's trueisms: NCOs are GOD! I don't mean to be blasphemous in that assertion. I am sure that the Good Lord will be honored that I attribute some of his omnipotence to NCOs. They are good company. As I note in my bio, I grew up in the Army, where I was taught such common courtesies as answering the phone in our quarters with, "Briscoe residence, Shane speaking." I was also taught, through observation of my Father and his interactions and just watching what went on on Army Posts around the world, that NCOs rule! I learned that lesson anew when, as a freshly minted Second Lieutenant just out of West Point, I was introduced to my first Platoon Sergeant, Heywood E. Smith, at Ft. Carson, Colorado, in the fall of 1971. "You're in luck," I was told by the outgoing Platoon Leader. "You have the best Platoon Sergeant in the United States Army." When I met Sgt. Smith in the orderly room of my tank company, the first words out of my mouth were, "I know you! I was on your tank as a cadet at West Point when we visited Ft. Knox!" And so it was. The Army, you learn over time, is a big family and you tend to run into the same people over the years within that family. Well, I wasn't all that lucky at first, for the Company First Sergeant had come down on orders for another tour in Vietnam and Sgt. Smith had been selected to serve in his place, meaning that an E-6 in the unit, a charming scam artist, was to be my acting Platoon Sergeant until a new "Top" sergeant could be found to relieve Sgt. Smith of his company-level duties. That transition lasted a month or so, as I recall. "Top" never made it back to Vietnam, as we were winding down our involvement there and Armor units were no longer in demand, so he shipped back to our unit and Sgt. Smith was mine again. Or better said, I was his. I had learned a number of bad habits under his temporary replacement, one of which was to believe every excuse I heard from my soldiers for missing work ("My wife has to go to the hospital." "I have a court date." "I have some family problems to take care of." etc.) One day shortly after taking back his old job, Sgt. Smith pulled me aside. "Sir, there is something we need to talk about," he said as he called off to a private area. "You command the platoon; I run it. That means if someone needs to get off work, he comes to me. It means when the barracks are being prepared for inspection, you need to stay out of there, as you only distract the men. You come in with the Captain and if it things are not in order, then you have my ass for it. Oh, and by the way, you ought to get a haircut." I had to admire the man. In a few short sentences, he'd set me straight. He did it with firmness and respect. I took his advice to heart, even to the point of getting a haircut (we pushed those things in those days). I decided to listen and learn at Sgt. Smith's feet. What he taught me was LEADERSHIP. A career in the military was not for me, as it turned out, but the leadership skills Sgt. Smith taught me have been a blessing throughout my life, in dealing with family, friends and co-workers in the civilian world. It is not really something I learned at West Point; indeed, in my day, there were many negative lessons taught at the Academy, including motivation by intimidation. They were trying to break you down and teach you to first learn how to follow orders before you could give them, and that was understandable, but some of the hazing (since done away with) taught exactly the wrong lessons for dealing with soldiers. Sgt. Smith set me straight. First, he taught me to love my troops. Take care of them, look out for them, protect and defend them, RESPECT them and they will return your faith a thousand times. Set the example. The soldiers need to know you are willing to roll up your sleeves and do anything they do. You will get your hands dirty. You will work hard. You know exactly what they are experiencing because you have been there, done that. This doesn't mean you are to become their big buddy. It doesn't mean you will neglect your duties as an officer and commander. It doesn't mean you won't expect your orders in a combat situation where time is of the essence to be followed to the letter and without question. It means you are one of them. You will do what it takes to protect them and get the mission accomplished; whatever it takes. You are not better than they are; you are one of them. You just happen to be the commander. Look out for their welfare and they will look out for yours. We had a slush fund Sgt. Smith had started to which I gave $10 a month, he gave $5, and the troops kicked in $1 apiece. It was to be used as a fund for emergency leave, in case a soldier's parent died and he was flat broke. That sort of thing. The only stipulation was that money from the fund be paid back over time, plus a dollar. Every now and then, when the fund got too big, we would buy a bunch of beer and have a platoon party. That fund was one of the best morale builders I have ever encountered. It was caring for your troops personified. Caring for your troops in Sgt. Smith's outfit also meant never giving an Article 15, the Army's non-judicial punishment for relatively minor infractions. "We don't give Article 15s in this platoon," Sgt. Smith would say. "It just messes up their pay and gets them in a deeper hole to dig out of. I will take care of disciplinary problems in my own way." That way was polishing the barracks floor by hand, with a handkerchief. It worked just about all the time. When it didn't, the recalcitrant soldier might be invited to step outside and take it up directly with Sgt. Smith. I never saw someone take him up on it and would pity the poor fool who did. Sgt. Smith was stocky. Sgt. Smith was tough. Sgt. Smith also convinced me that our platoon should be the refuge of soldiers in trouble. They could join us, have their past completely wiped clean and be given a new start in Army life. They would have to obey orders and perform, but if they did, they would be treated as any other member of our unit. I can honestly say that we took on a number of people who'd been dismissed as among the worst excuses for soldiers and turned them into productive people. Only one person didn't adapt, and we got rid of him through administrative channels. We didn't foist him off on some other platoon; we got him discharged from the Army. If all this sounds like a touchy-feely Army, it wasn't. Sgt. Smith was tough but fair and I learned to be the same. There is nothing wrong with loving your troops. There are many different leadership styles, from intimidation and coercion to the kind of positive leadership Sgt. Smith embodied. They all work to one degree or another, but the most effective of the long term is the Smith Method. After a couple of moves at Ft. Carson, I ended up in another unit, with another Platoon Sergeant. Sgt. Smith had retired by then, but we still kept in touch. This new Platoon Sergeant was a crusty old veteran who knew his stuff, but he had an alcohol problem that sometimes got the better of him. One day, he had a run-in with the Battalion Sergeant Major (Sergeants Major are GOD with more stripes than you have ever seen, plus a big star in the middle). My Platoon Sergeant was at fault and alcohol was involved. I learned he was going to be disciplined by the Battalion Commander, one of the truly good senior officers I ran into during my time in the service. The discipline would involve being busted in rank, relieved of duty and, at his age, having his career ruined. What would Sgt. Smith have done in a situation like this, I asked myself. The answer was clear and unambiguous. I tracked down our Colonel on the middle of the golf course and pleaded with him to give my Platoon Sergeant another chance and hold me responsible if it didn't work out. Far from being angry at me for interrupting his golf game, this fine officer, Lieutenant Colonel Fitzmorris, granted my wish. My Platoon Sergeant didn't disappoint. He didn't know it, but he had Sgt. Smith to thank for his salvation. I also remember from growing up that the two people my Father, a career officer, was closest to were two of his NCOs. One is unfortunately deceased now, but the other is living the good life in Hawaii and his family and mine stay in touch. This turned out to be a rambling note on leadership, but I cannot think of a better way to illustrate what good leadership is than telling the story of Sgt. Smith and my Father and what they taught me about it. The Army today is obviously full of good leaders and great NCOs, because you can see it in the character of our troops. Today, as in my day, NCOs rule! There is one more thing to keep in mind about military leadership, and it is the essence of this essay and something I learned at the feet of Sgt. Smith: There is no greater honor or privilege in life than leading a group of soldiers who may be dependent upon you in combat--to complete the mission and bring them home safely. Sgt. Smith did me and our platoon the honor of saying he would have taken us into combat anywhere, anytime. The feeling is mutual, Sgt. Smith. The feeling is mutual. *** Webmaster's note; Russ Vaughn replies . |
|
Contributed by Shane Briscoe on July 31, 2006 at 01:00 PM in , , | Comments Posted by: Hi Shane, welcome to the pound. I'll look forward to reading your posts. I enjoyed this one for sure. What would my grandfather be in your vernacular? He was in WWI and he was a Regimental Sergeant Major, Cavalry. Posted by: | Jul 20, 2006 11:20:16 AM Posted by: I've sepnt a long time studying the Soviet & Russian Army. And here is a major difference, important in the outcome of the Cold War. The Russians never developed a cadre of long-service, professional, senior NCOs. Oh they had NCOs of a sort, but they were merely the older Draftees nearing the end of their term. Or a few specialists. So no real experience ever developed. And tasks done in the US Army by a First Sergeant, or even a Platoon Sergeant had to be done by a Russian Lieutenant or Captain. And they generally did not have the closeness with their men which a good NCO can develop. And yes, the Russians are the quickest to admit this shortcoming. Posted by: | Jul 20, 2006 7:32:07 PM Posted by: Shane, Welcome from another OWD newbie and fellow service draft dodger. I'm glad your first post was elevated to the "best of" else, I might have missed it. You were fortunate to have Sgt. Smith as your first First Sergeant. If he had come later on, it might have been too late. I too was fortunate in my first post to have excellent NCOs to raise me. Two years later when I was transferred to SAC HQ, I unfortunately ran into a group of NCOs and Officers that were not of their caliber. It was reflected in the performance of airmen that I soon would inherit. It took a while to gain their trust, but I did. Unfortunately, I fought the good fight for and with them with my superiors and am quite certain that is why I didn't get my 4th stripe. I am totally certain that is the reason I changed my mind and left the AF at the end of my first term.
Regards, Gray Dog Posted by: | Jul 29, 2006 7:37:22 PM |