I recently came back from my “one weekend per month” training with my Army Reserve unit, and as usual, I was both encouraged by being with my Soldiers and discouraged by the stories they told me about their experiences in the Army. This is my vent.

What the Army Says

About nine months ago, I attended the Army’s Pre-Command Course for battalion and brigade commanders. At that two week course, I heard the following phrase one-hundred fifty times:

“Our number one priority is our People.”

They immediately clarified that prioritizing people did not mean prioritizing their individual preferences (or even, in some cases, their welfare), but rather, prioritizing their individual preparedness to go to war. They talked about how commanders MUST send Soldiers to the schools they need to progress their careers, and help them promote.

“Got it,” I thought. “Why are we still discussing this? It’s a no-brainer.”

What the Army Does

Then, I reported to my unit. I wasn’t surprised by some of what I saw: delays in paperwork, lack of motivation to fight the Army bureaucracy (run by self-trained people trying to operate poorly-designed technologies), and lots of “it’s someone else’s fault” excuses about why we are so low on our participation rates.

What did surprise me was how long some of these Soldiers had gone without advancing their career in any way, shape, or form. In my first month, I separated two Soldiers who had been in the Army for 12 years and were getting out as Specialists (Enlisted Paygrade 4). That’s a rank we give after 2 years in service. By 12 years, the average Soldier could be a sergeant of some sort (Enlisted Paygrade 6 or 7), and make much more money.

I began asking probing questions:

• “Why have you not made sergeant?”
• “Did you get a chance to go to school?”
• “Did someone encourage you to promote?”
• “Did you have a negative experience with sergeants that made you want to stay away?”

Each Soldier gave different answers, and some made it clear that they didn’t want the responsibility of being a sergeant in their under-paid, under-appreciated side-job. (Okay, I will concede that the Army Reserve should NOT be any part-timer’s number one priority. Of course, that lack of priority sometimes causes long-term stagnation…)

But then, other stories came:

• “Previous commanders discouraged our attending schools.”
• “They wanted us to be at the unit’s monthly drill and at annual training—not away at another base, at a school for 3-6 months.”
• “They wanted us to stay in the unit, and if we promoted, we would have had to transfer to another unit.”
• “They wanted their numbers to be stable, to look good, so that they could do their mission.”

Does Not Compute

I couldn’t understand it. I couldn’t understand how any commander could discourage Soldiers from progressing their careers, for any reason. If that were true, how could anyone call themselves a “good leader” and then discourage Soldiers from maturing, and from becoming leaders themselves?

As I asked probing questions and reflected on the data I had seen at the Pre-command Course, I concluded that very few of these former leaders probably overtly said anything like “don’t go to school” or “don’t promote” (especially because that could have opened them up to being investigated). Yet, I am also sure that they hesitated to say “yes”, asked if the Soldier could reschedule their school after annual training, delayed signing their paperwork, and put their primary emphasis on Soldiers being at the unit–all of these “subtle hints” likely led their Soldiers to read between the lines to conclude, “My commander doesn’t actually support my progressing my career.”

Why? Because Soldiers are trained to make their leaders happy, that’s why—and since most Soldiers can’t discern the difference between the sacrifices we train them to make (e.g. run into that hail of bullets to take the hill) and the sacrifices they should never make (e.g. don’t advance your career because I want you to stay in my unit), they just try to do everything they think their leaders want them to do, regardless of whether those choices are illegal, immoral, or harmful.

Turning the Tide

I realized that, like anything else, changing this aspect of my unit’s culture would take over-communicating a very simple message in a highly animated way:

“YOUR CAREER > MY UNIT”

where “>” is a mathematical symbol meaning “GREATER THAN”.

I recently had two opportunities to share the GREATER THAN message.

Future First Lieutenant

A second lieutenant (brand new Officer, no older than 23) recently told me with great trepidation that he wanted to go to his mandatory-for-promotion school in the next two months. “But, if you want me to stay because I’m in charge of that new initiative you’re launching,” he said, “I can delay the school.” “WHAT???!!! NO!” I exclaimed, “Do not EVER delay your schooling or your career for some little unit project. Nothing that I ever ask you to do in garrison can be that important. Your career is way more important than my unit! Besides, I’ll just find someone to hold down the fort until you get back.” He looked so relieved. He realized he was replaceable, so leaving us for a while was not going to be received as an act of disloyalty, as he had feared.

Future Warrant Officer

A sergeant came up to me to ask if he should pursue becoming a warrant officer. (These are the Army’s technical experts and we never have enough because their training pipeline is very long.) The question he was really asking in between the lines was “Will you be upset if I leave to go to several schools and then transfer out of the unit when I complete my training?” “DO IT!” I said, “If you’re interested in making Soldiers more proficient in their tradecraft, then that’s the ONLY route you should go. Yes, you will need to transfer out once you finish your training, but that’s beneficial for you because you’ll go to a new unit where they ONLY know you as a warrant officer and will give you the respect you deserve.” He looked so pleased! “Thank you for your support, ma’am,” he said, “We certainly didn’t have support like this before!” “I’m sorry you experienced that,” I said.

What else can I say?

Bigger Picture Thinking

I called my husband when I got home that night. “The stories these Soldiers share about how their leaders have been just hurts my heart. How can they lead that way? Don’t they know they’re hurting the Army?” I asked. “I served in the Military and with Army people for six years,” he replied, “and I only ever heard you and one other person mention benefiting the greater Army. Nobody else thinks like that,” he followed, “so it’s a rare thing for your Soldiers to see you doing it.” “Well, I know that if I let these Soldiers leave my unit in order to advance their careers, other Soldiers will find out that there’s a unit where leaders care about them, and that will draw them into my unit. When it comes to recruiting in the Army Reserve, a leader’s reputation for helping Soldiers is everything,” I said. I don’t think some other leaders realize that.

Courage to Lead Well

It’s true that, as a commander, I have competing priorities. These people and policies tell me to achieve one effect, while those people and policies tell me to achieve the complete opposite effect.

It’s true that I have to weigh and balance demands, and that it requires sometimes saying NO to my bosses, sometimes saying NO to regulations, and sometimes saying NO to my own desires in order to help my Soldiers get their careers back on track. (I mean, who wouldn’t want 100% of their Soldiers standing rank and file at every drill and annual training, looking crisp in their uniforms, and acting excited to start training?! But I’ve learned that this expectation is unrealistic, and if I want to see even half my troops in formation, ready to train, I have to start with caring for THEM.)

And it’s true that when I’m in clean-up mode, the number of Soldiers who need this help is exponentially greater than if the leaders before me had been doing this work all along. Sometimes, that discourages people from even trying to fix long-standing problems. Fortunately, I’m a fighter.

(Most of my superiors hate this fact about me, and I’m okay with that. The ones who love it about me have become my long-term mentors. Yet, most of my subordinates love this fact about me because they feel seen, heard, and valued by one of their leaders for the first time in their Army lives.)

I wish that wasn’t the case, that my impact on them was a “regular day at the office”. Unfortunately, in the Army of today, People still seem to be the third or fourth priority.

Except in my unit.

Here, we preach the GREATER THAN message.