A friend once told me she felt hopeful about the New Year because it seemed bright and full of possibilities. And yet, even now New Year’s resolutions just barely made are already being broken more quickly than it takes to read this sentence. I have been told only 12 percent of resolutions are actually kept, because of a lack of consistent action, which is the only way good “possibilities” materialize.
This reminds me of a leadership trait: Initiative. The Marine Corps defines it as taking action even though you haven’t been given orders. We expect Marines to meet new, unanticipated situations with prompt action, to show resourcefulness outside normal procedure.
Many times we learn best from those who show us how not to do things. The best instruction on initiative I have ever received came from someone I will call “Sergeant Q.” He probably couldn’t spell initiative, let alone exercise it.
As a young Marine fresh from the School Of Infantry (SOI), I arrived to the fleet excited finally to be in the “real” Marine Corps. Our sergeant at SOI had been none other than the Cyborg himself, Brad Kasal. I suppose it isn’t fair to measure other sergeants against the Cyborg, but when I was a young Marine, he was my standard. Sergeant Q, on the other hand, was proof positive one did not actually have to perform to be promoted. He merely managed to not get NJP’d.
Sergeant Q was my squad leader. While prepping for my first field op, a burly corporal who was my team leader specifically instructed us not to follow Sergeant Q’s example while in the field, warning that “he is going to show his ass! You do what I do!”
I remember not comprehending. A Marine sergeant could not be anything less than a superior breed of human, a hybrid of human and awesome. However, the corporalwas right. On a night patrol, we wandered around on the same hill for hours tripping over lava dogs because Sergeant Q couldn’t navigate his way back to the bivouac site. We ended up running into another patrol and followed them.
Sergeant Q’s proficiency shortcomings notwithstanding, it was his inability to make decisions or be accountable I will remember most.
He never had an original thought in his head. At company formation, each platoon sergeant would stand in front of his platoon and “pass the word” before the company commander came out. If Sergeant Q had information to pass, he repeated nearly word-for-word whatever the platoon sergeant to our immediate left said to his own platoon. Eventually, we realized he was simply regurgitating whatever he heard the other platoon sergeant say, and we actually started half-facing toward the other platoon sergeant, as he would say it not only first but more clearly than Sergeant Q ever did. It is tempting to argue that the similarity came from passing the same information from company HQ, but it was more than that. If someone else did not say it first, it did not come out of Sergeant Q’s mouth. He answered every question with “Nobody said anything about that. No one passed that.”
One of the saltier corporals taught us how to set up our 782 gear for the field. Magazines were mounted on our left so we could reach them easier for reloading. The first aid kit went on the right of our butt pack so everyone could find it, etc. When Sergeant Q saw this, he immediately exploded: “Nobody said we could do that! Everyone’s gear should be like mine!” In retrospect, I get the concept of uniformity, but his 782 gear was set up for a parade and not for war. Our collective sigh could have spun a windmill.
Sitting around idle is the bane of everyone in the military and an inevitability, but Sergeant Q raised it to an art form. One day, while waiting for trucks to pick us up from a training area, we begged him to let us do something, anything—bayonet drills, weapons cleaning, PT, fire team patrols. You name it. The response: “Nobody said we could do that. Nobody passed that.” So we sat idle and angry. I remember thinking, “You’re a sergeant in the Marine Corps! Make a decision! Take some action!” My mental telepathy went unheeded.
Oddly enough, it was his absolute lack of initiative which prompted me to reenlist the first time. I figured if I could become a sergeant, I would not be afraid to make a decision, and at least my small part of the Marine Corps could be the way it should be, action-oriented.
When I reached the fleet as a young sergeant, junior Marines would approach me after I had announced the day’s plan and ask, “Sergeant, are you sure we can do that? What will so-and-so say?”
“If they don’t like it, then they shouldn’t have left me in charge,” was my usual response, sometimes followed by, “I’m sure I’ll get chewed out and told not to do that anymore.” This led me to formulate a rule: “In the absence of any other authority, do not be afraid to make a decision.” Besides, if you somehow made it through boot camp without learning to handle an ass-chewing, you need to find another line of work.
Of course, that rule also requires you to adhere to two leadership principles: 1) Accept responsibility for your actions and the actions of your subordinates; and, 2) Make sound and timely decisions. That taking initiative gig comes with a lot of baggage sometimes. If it were easy, everyone would be doing it.
The root of the word initiative comes from the Latin initium, or “beginning,”—not from any words meaning “the end” or especially “success.” Positive results happen through a process of consistent, prompt action. I tell Marines all the time that just because we train in the Marine Corps martial arts program does not mean we become ninjas overnight.
It is said idle hands are the devil’s workshop, in particular those belonging to bored young people who then get themselves into mischief. I submit that most idle hands result from a lack of initiative. Standing around with your hands in your pockets results in evil deeds because no positive action is taking place.
A bucket of water will become undrinkable with filth and parasites if it is just left sitting. It takes someone dumping it out and filling it with fresh water to be any good. No one gets saved from a fire by folks standing around watching the building burn. It takes someone with a little valor to initiate a rescue. Good things will only become possible if we seize the initiative and start making something happen.
So if your new year’s initium is to get in shape, quit smoking, read more, etc, it begins with walking out the door to the gym, throwing that first cigarette away, picking up that book—and then doing those things again the next day. Most important, it requires us not to be afraid of the new thing, not to be content in our failure, and not to be willing to accept a lack of action.
New Year’s Initium. An apt phrase for a praetorian.
