My Squad Leader

I served in the Marine Corps for twenty-five years.  I was an infantryman and attained the rank of Master Gunnery Sergeant.  I deployed seven times to include three tours in Iraq.  I also served five years overseas.  I received numerous awards decorations to include the Combat Action Ribbon and the Purple Heart.  I’m not broadcasting these achievements out of any bravado of self-aggrandizement.  I’m stating these to establish a position of credibility for the bold statement that follows:

I had the best squad leader in the Marine Corps.

 It’s true.  I served with many fine leaders in combat and in between wars, in the Fleet Marine Force (FMF) and in garrison; but my squad leader set the tone and the example for the kind of Marine I would grow to be.

In the mid-nineties I was an eighteen-year-old Private First Class with the MOS 0311 (Rifleman).  After graduating the School of Infantry, I checked into the fleet as the battalion was forming for pre-deployment training.  About half of the guys had two years of service and were with the battalion on the previous deployment.  Compared to me they were salty, and they let me know it.  I rarely heard my name called in the first two months I was there.  It was always “Hey Boot! Get over here.”  Boot.  I hated that name.  It was obvious I was a new guy, but I wanted to be a Marine, I wanted to be a grunt.  I was here by choice.  The condescending way they all spoke to me did not evoke an atmosphere of mentorship.  This combined with the thoughts and emotions of a young adult adjusting to a new life full of austerity made me not want to be there.  In these days before cell phones, I had no car, no television, and had not yet made any friends in my unit.  I had an alarm clock radio that picked up the one local country station.  I missed my girlfriend.  I began to have thoughts that maybe joining the Marines was a bad decision.  I wasn’t sure I would make it through my four year enlistment.  I considered going UA (Unauthorized Absence, what the Army calls AWOL), becoming a deserter.  I was immature.  The small measure of discipline and pride I had kept me from that irrational decision.

As the boot I did all of the working parties and menial tasks.  This was to be expected but the manner in which it was conducted was demoralizing.  The Corporals or Senior Lance Corporals who found themselves on duty over the weekend would bang on my hatch at 0630 Saturday morning.  “Hey Boot!  Get up, go clean the laundry room!”  While conducting police call in front of the barracks the NCO would yell “Hey Boot!  You missed that cigarette butt.  Pick it up!  Attention to detail Devil Dog.  I guess you’re just gonna walk past a trip wire and get the rest of the platoon killed.  You suck!”  All I could do was respond “Aye Corporal!”  Sometimes these verbal admonitions were accompanied with the command “Push Boot!”  I would be berated while doing push-ups for guys just two years older than me.  I wasn’t a screw up and I was in excellent shape.  I was the “Ironman” from my company in boot camp and had a 300 PFT (the maximum score on the Physical Fitness Test).  My room was always clean, my uniform always squared away.  It seemed no matter how well I performed I was scorned.  I didn’t receive this kind of treatment from Officers or Staff NCO’s (who I avoided as much as possible).  This all came from that particular demographic of Marines that had been boots a year and a half ago.  Some were NCOs, others who would never become NCOs.

 On my first field op I had a double shift of firewatch and slept maybe two hours.  I shivered in my wooly pulley (wool sweater) and gumby suit (the issued rubber rain suit before the days of goretex) in a ditch half full of water.  I was awakened by a Lance Corporal hitting me in the face with a thrown MRE and the command “Pack it up Boot! We’re stepping off in ten.”  It is an understatement to say I didn’t want to be there.

One day we got the word that our squad leader would be checking in, a Sergeant.  In those days a Sergeant in the infantry indicted someone who had been in longer than four years, someone who had reenlisted.  My reaction to the news was to mentally and emotionally brace myself for another bitter and condescending NCO.

Sergeant Davis walked into my room.  His uniform was flawless and he was physically fit.  He sported a red flat top and a huge smile.   He said, “How you doing Stud?”  I was speechless for a few seconds.  I thought to myself… “He’s right, I am a stud!”

That initial contact made such an impact on the young version of myself.  He didn’t speak down to me or the rest of the guys in the squad.  He didn’t flaunt his rank or experience.  He acted like it was a privilege to serve as a squad leader and he exuded confidence and competence.  He had a cheerful disposition I hadn’t seen in someone of his station.  I immediately knew I wanted to be like Sergeant Davis.

We conducted a six month work up for deployment, then deployed aboard ship for six months in the Mediterranean.  We spent a lot of time in the field.  I learned that Sergeant Davis was from Texas.  He served in an infantry battalion in Hawaii before serving as a Marine Security Guard at embassies in Moscow and Caracus.  He was knowledgeable about a lot of things, and I was greatly impressed by his fieldcraft.  He taught me many things, counselling me not only as a Marine but as a young adult.  He addressed members of the squad as “Warrior, Stud, or Killer” never as “Boot”. 

The following vignettes are just a few episodes that made a lasting impression.

Battalion run:  Roughly once a month we conducted a formation run as a battalion.  Sometimes we were “green on green” other times we were in “boots and utes”.  Each company had a guidon, and we ran in platoon formation.  The battalion formation stretched out almost a half mile.  We sang cadence when we ran, yelling at the top of our lungs.  Individuals would be called out to lead the ditty for their platoons.  Occasionally in an act of bravado a Marine would run to the front of their company, take the company guidon, hold it high, then run around the entire battalion.  All of this while the battalion was still moving forward in a steady pace.  This amounted to a lengthy sprint.  We saw this occur on one run with another company.  Sergeant Davis looked back at me and yelled “Walker! Go for it stud!”  I bolted from formation with speed and enthusiasm yelling “Oorah!”  I grabbed the Echo Company guidon, held it high, and ran towards the front of the battalion.  I rounded the front of the formation to hear the Battalion Sergeant Major yell “Get some Echo!”  The battalion was moving forward and I was running in the opposite direction, down the full length of the formation.  Once I reached the end, I rounded the tail and looked forward.  Echo Company was waaayy up there.  It took serious effort to make the run back.  The outward enthusiasm began to diminish as the difficulty was realized.  No options though, I had to complete the task.  With burning lungs I made it back, handed the guidon off, and resumed my place in formation.  No sooner had I gotten in step with my platoon when I heard the cadence “Lance Corporal Walker won’t you come on out, we wanna hear you scream and shout!  Take it on the left foot!”  I had serious doubts if I could do it after that lengthy sprint.  I enjoyed singing cadence and thought I was pretty good at it, but I was seriously winded.  My face had a look of surprise, hesitation, and dread.  I glanced up to Sergeant Davis who had an amused grin.  In fractions of a second, he turned serious and without any words he communicated to me “Get out there!”  Once again, no options.  I got out there and screamed as loud as I could.  “I got it! Lo-righta Lay-o…a lefty right layo!”  I led cadence for a respectable turn then called out the next Marine.  Exhausted but not defeated I returned to formation and fell into pace.  Sergeant Davis looked back at me with an approving smile.  He had challenged me publicly.  If I would have failed at the task by falling out of the run, my reputation would have plummeted.  Conversely, by pulling it off well I stood out.  Words cannot convey how much I valued his approval.

Dip in formation:  Like many young grunts at the time, I intermittently used smokeless tobacco.  One day I had a dip in when we were ordered “form it up”.  We fell into platoon formation and the Platoon Sergeant passed the word before securing us for the day.  I had the impression that it would be a quick formation, so I did not spit out the dip.  Standing in First Squad I tried to look indiscrete.  Sure enough we quickly heard “Squad Leaders, you got ‘em, Fall Out!”  I had a mouth full of saliva.  As soon as I heard “Fall Out” I leaned forward and let out a large stream of tobacco spit.  An immediate knife hand was thrust in my face from Sergeant Davis.  “If you ever come to formation with a dip in again I’ll make you eat a whole can of that garbage!  Do you understand me?”  “Yes Sergeant.”  “We don’t do that in First Squad, you’re better than that.”  It’s embarrassing to get chewed out publicly, but when you are in the wrong you have to own it.  What was more disappointing was not meeting Sergeant Davis’ standards and expectations.  I felt ashamed.  If I had received that correction from any other leader I would have complied, avoided the behavior in the future, but been relatively unfazed.  Coming from my respected Squad Leader though, it was quite humbling.

Irish pennant:  Marines take pride in their uniforms.  In our day that included cammies that were starched and pressed, and boots that were shined.  I you had loose threads on your uniform they were referred to as “Irish pennants”.  One day the platoon was forming up and Sergeant Davis yelled at me from several yards away as he approached.  “Hey Walker! You’ve got two Irish pennants hanging off your…wait…those are your arms.  Disregard, carry on!”  The whole platoon laughed and Sergeant Davis just grinned.  I stood there as a 135 lb Lance Corporal and simply said “Aye Sergeant.”  If I was actually a weakling who struggled with pull-ups or keeping up physically, he would never had made that joke.  When my squad leader picked on you it was with good natured humor.  He wasn’t a bully.  He made fun of me in a way that was ironic. Yes, I was a skinny kid, but I could carry my weight (and then some!)  I could hang.  He knew that and the whole platoon knew it too.  This kind of banter made the squad and the platoon feel like a family.

Red Dog:  Sergeant Davis had red hair.  He wore it in a flat top.  At the time a flat top was a very common haircut in the Marine Corps, I sported one as well.  It looked very squared away.  Some of Sergeant Davis’ friends occasionally called him “Red Dog.”  His peers mind you.  One day out in the field I was digging a fighting hole.  Sergeant Davis said “Walker, go get a case of chow for the squad.”  I still had a lot of work to get my hole dug before I could take a breather.  I responded “Sergeant Davis, send Roth.” (My roommate).  He said “No.”  I persisted “I was on the last working party last time, come on.” He was still smiling and said, “I’m sending you, now get moving.”  I said, “Come on Red Dog.”  His smile vanished and he said “Push.”  I immediately dropped to the ground and started doing push-ups.  I knew I had crossed the line.  Understanding human nature, my youth, and a Marine’s tendency to gripe he put up with a little back talk; but I went too far.  A minute or so later he said, “Now get your ass over there and grab that case of chow.”  “Aye Sergeant.”  This event may seem inconsequential, but it made a lasting impression.  Sergeant Davis was friendly, but he was an NCO and my Squad Leader.  He was approachable and didn’t make us stand at parade rest when talking to us, but I should never forget that he was in charge.

There are a lot of stories about my first two years in uniform.  It foundationally shaped who I became as a Marine and as a leader.  I was extremely blessed to have to have a good unit and good leaders.  I learned so much from Sergeant Davis.  When I became a Squad Leader, then a Platoon Sergeant, and up through the ranks I tried very hard to demonstrate the kind of leadership I learned from my Squad Leader.  As a leader you cannot imitate but you can emulate.  Succinctly here are a few of the lessons I learned from Sergeant Davis:

  • Kindness is not weakness.  A leader can be firm, fair, and kind.  Those who berate, demean, and condescend may see obedience while they are supervising, but they will not develop loyalty amongst those whom they lead. Because of the example of Sergeant Davis, I never addressed Marines as “Boot.”  I did not allow my subordinate leaders to do so either.  I’ve spoken to many NCO’s throughout the years on leadership panels, formal school graduations, mess nights, and birthday balls.  I challenged them.  If they were in the habit of calling Marines “boot”, I told them to begin to substitute that and call them “brother” instead; to see the change it would make in their small unit. (Caveat: calling one of your peers a boot when they do something stupid is an example of good humor and quite acceptable.)
  • Measured & infrequent outbursts of anger.  Some leaders are angry all the time, some only communicate by yelling.  No one wants to follow them, and they are generally avoided.  Their angst becomes ineffective.  The balanced leader knows when to “turn up the heat.”  You can be fierce, direct, and harsh; but it should only in the situations that warrant it.  If you have an even disposition and pleasant manner as your general condition, then at some point put your Marines on blast…they will respond with urgency.  The correction will stay with them.
  • Competency & ownership.  You must be good at what you do.  You must be good at your job and good at being a Marine.  Some focus on one or the other.  There’s no value in complaining about an assignment.  Execute orders, tackle it head on, and do it well.  Always leave a place better than you found it.  Be the kind of Marine others want to follow, and the type of unit people want to belong to.
  • You gotta do hard things.  In the Marine Corps and especially in the infantry you have to do hard things.  You have to be tough physically, mentally, and emotionally.  As a leader you must lead your Marines through their hesitancy to do hard things.  An eighteen or nineteen-year-old may be physically tough but may not yet be emotionally tough enough to handle everything thrown at him.  Good leadership will see him through those hard times until he develops the resiliency and strength to face it alone.  It also reminds him that he is part of something lager than himself, and in fact is not alone.

Thank you Sergeant Davis.   I took the lessons you taught, I lived them out, and I taught them to others. There are countless Marines serving today you’ve indirectly impacted.  Your legacy lives on.

So I say again, I had the best squad leader in the Marine Corps.

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