The first flag officer I ever had any real contact with was Vice Admiral McKee - he was the Superintendent of the Naval Academy during most of my years there. An accomplished naval officer, he commanded nuclear submarines during the Cold War (some of those missions are only now being declassified).
Now by “contact” I don’t mean I had dinner with him at his house. During my years at the Academy he addressed my class several times. He had that wonderful ability to speak to a group and yet come across as though he was talking only to me (one of the reasons I remember his talks 30 years later!). The main thrust of his message was always the same: conducting yourself as a professional, whether in the military or working at “Amalgamated Bottlecap” (his term for the civilian world). He impressed upon us that the professional reputations we established today would follow us the rest of our lives and, once damaged, are extraordinarily difficult to repair.
One of his phrases was “keep your powder dry.” In the days of sail “when ships were made of wood and men were made of iron,” naval battles were fought with cannon and musket. The critical component was gunpowder - if it was damp it would either not function, or could cause the weapon to explode. It was absolutely imperative that it be kept dry - no small task in the salt water environment of the open ocean! Today the phrase is an admonition to conduct yourself professionally; to stay above pettiness, squabbling and deceit; to develop a professional reputation of honor and integrity. It’s also a reminder to only engage in “big battles” and not waste your “powder” on the small ones.
Successful leaders, especially in the military, tend to be principled, disciplined and very passionate. These strengths serve them well, inspiring those they lead and arousing an esprit de corps unmatched in other professions.
And yet there are times when too much of a good thing . . . is not a good thing. As my friend Dr. Rohm says, “A weakness is often a strength - that’s taken to an extreme.” I’ve seen situations where an obsession with personal honor means even a small disagreement is interpreted as a personal attack. “I disagree with you” is seen as “you’re wrong”. Add in unbridled passion, and you pour gasoline on a fire - small sparks become a mass conflagration. “I’m right, and I’ll prove I’m right! And I don’t care what it takes!” A small skirmish escalates into all-out war.
In today’s podcast I outline essentially a case study in not keeping one’s powder dry - engaging in an unnecessary battle (in my opinion, anyway). Unfortunately in this case, “being right” has now become the issue - “doing the right thing” has been subverted by “a matter of principle.” I ask a key question at the end - and I look forward to reading your answers! (5:20)
Today, January 17th, is the anniversary of the start of Operation Desert Storm, AKA “Gulf War I”. In many ways, that operation is the exact opposite of the current conflict in Iraq - it was quick, decisive, and fairly clean, with relatively few casualties. It was fought against an organized army that was quickly demoralized. Because of these characteristics, whatever public opposition it generated was relatively benign by today’s standards. I’m proud of my service in that conflict, but I would be hard pressed to compare it to what today’s military forces have faced for the last seven years.
During that time I did have the opportunity to observe - and experience myself - leadership in a combat environment. As an aviator I have experienced periods of intense stress before, such as when my aircraft wasn’t doing what it was supposed to do. But operating in a combat environment, and living on a floating target, was another level of intensity altogether. As the commander of my ship’s helicopter division, I felt the stress levels rise whenever the helicopters were airborne, whether I was flying or not. But even when they were on deck, we still couldn’t let our guard down until after we had put many miles between us and the Persian Gulf.
My ship’s commanding officer was the quintessential ship’s captain: experienced, knowledgeable, and highly capable. Throughout our transit the captain projected an aura of calm confidence. But combat is like fine sand: it has a way of finding any chink in the armor, and it gets in there and irritates everything it touches. And one day the captain’s veneer of control shattered - and as I describe in today’s audiocast, I had a “front row seat” for the results. (5:44)
One of the serendipities of my military career was being able to associate - on a regular basis - with some truly phenomenal men and women. One of my closest friends is a fellow helicopter pilot. We began our military careers on the same day, received our commissions together, and received our “wings” together. At our first duty station we were roommates. We were so close in those days that, if you saw one of us, the other was there as well. With apologies to Dan Fogelberg, we were the “twin sons of different mothers.”
All too soon, however, the Navy took us in different directions. Our paths crossed several times, and we always kept tabs on each other. But we allowed “life” to get in the way, and our contact slowly became less and less frequent.
Several months ago he emailed to say that a job change was bringing him and his wife to a city only 3 hours away. And a couple of weeks ago my wife and I drove down and spent several days with them. We had a ball! And as is sometimes the case, we found ourselves asking each other, “Why did we wait so long to do this?”
One evening the two of us were sitting up late at night with a bottle of wine. My friend filled me in on all the twists and turns of his career in the last 20-odd years, and I just sat there, amazed. Because as I listened to him talk, it became quite obvious why he has been so successful. And one of his key strengths is critical - nay, VITAL - to becoming an effective leader. Listen in as I review our conversation. (4:01)
