We had been in the field for a week as part of a large tactical exercise. We didn’t sleep or eat much and while the nights were cool, the days had been hot and dry. We were tired, dehydrated and looking forward to wrapping things up and getting back to base.
The only thing that stood between us and a shower and food was about twenty miles. No trucks or helicopters for us; black Cadillacs (i.e., boots) were our mode of transportation.
You, all your gear, and 150 of your closest friends. Let's get after it.
A little backstory.
We all knew the organizational ethos that finishing as a team was assumed, not optional. But at some point, we had also been on other movements where someone’s blisters, cramps, or whatever got the best of them, and they stopped and didn’t continue. The impact that had was noticeable.
Not only did you lose someone, but if done in a tactical environment it would tie up three or four other guys to carry you and your gear and that would really slow things down.
Even if in just a training environment, one guy “falling out” could open that mental door for others. What was unthinkable suddenly became possible and that simple thought makes blisters and cramps take on a life of their own.
In my youthful exuberance I issued a decree on top of the accepted standard to reinforce the significance of what we were doing.
Unless you literally went unconscious, you were not allowed to fall out of the hike. Everyone had blisters, everyone was tired and sore, and everyone had muscle cramps. Deal with it and don’t let your teammates down.
The first few miles were great. We stepped off early while it was still cool and while no one was enthused to be hiking after a long week, the vibe felt good.
We were in two columns. I was leading the one on the left and to the right of me was a Marine who carried the company flag, also known as a guidon. We had long since left the desert and were now straddling a paved road for the remainder of the hike.
I looked up and saw the large, miles long hill ahead of us. I knew that once we crested that hill, we would be able to see the entire valley below. You could see for miles and if you knew where to look you could see our finish point even though it would still be miles away.
Being able to see the finish line had a way of making things seem easier and I knew that would get the guys going.
My thoughts were interrupted by my right hamstring which started to quiver and then tighten up, threatening to go full muscle cramp. If you know, you know. There’s nothing quite like it.
One of the other company leaders came up next to me and told me he was starting to cramp. I politely (not really) told him to keep that to himself; I didn’t want to hear about it since I had my own issues. Once you give your mind time to think about it, your body will be soon to follow.
At that point I saw some odd movement to my right. I looked over and the guidon bearer was starting to stumble and weave. Suddenly, he went down, face first. The Marines behind him didn’t miss a beat. They yelled for the corpsman while the next guy in line picked up the guidon and kept moving.
I knew he’d be taken care of and turned my attention to us finishing the hike strong.
When we got back, we cleaned our gear, checked on everyone’s physical condition, and then cut them loose. I went to my office, peeled off my boots, and tried to wrap up a few things before the weekend.
I heard a knock on my door. I looked up, and standing there with an IV bag hanging out of one arm and tears in his eyes was the Marine who had fallen out of the hike. He had checked himself out of the medical clinic.
He said he had come to apologize.
For what?
“For letting you down.”
Letting me down? I was incredulous. How?
“For falling out of the hike.”
Impossible, I told him! You didn’t let me down. You gave everything you had until you had nothing left. You don’t need to apologize to me. I can’t think of a better example of what this company is all about.
I sent him back to medical and sat there dumbfounded. Where in the world do people like this come from? This guy had an advanced degree in aerospace engineering and could have been somewhere far easier on the body and mind. He didn’t have to be here, but he served because this country had given him and his family opportunities they could find nowhere else. It was his way of showing thanks.
That sacred weight of leadership just got heavier.
There are always these little moments when leadership stops being theoretical, and you are confronted with the reality of what it’s all about. Stuff you’ll never find in a leadership seminar or master’s degree program or from some talking head who has never led a team, speaking from a position of academic “expertise.”
For me, it was the IV bag and the apology.
He wasn’t apologizing because he failed, but rather because he thought he had disappointed me. And that was heavy, indeed. He gave more and pushed far beyond comfort and suffered because he trusted and believed in me.
Now, there’s nothing wrong with setting high standards and supervising people and holding them accountable. This was just a hike, and I knew I could very well be called upon to make decisions that were far more dangerous than potential muscle cramps and dehydration.
Maybe this is about awareness. Had I been faced with this dynamic as a more seasoned leader I would have had the same lofty expectations, but I would have worded it differently.
But I think this is more about the concept of loyalty as it relates to leadership.
Loyalty. A powerful concept but grossly misunderstood and misused by too many. They mistakenly describe it as a one-way transaction.
"I am the boss and I expect you to be loyal to me. You do not question me or what I’m doing or expect me to do anything for you. If you’re not “loyal” to me there’s no place for you here."
That’s not loyalty, that’s fealty. Coerced obligation. Demanding. Power dynamics.
Conversely, what I had with those guys went both ways. It was based on mutual respect, trust, and shared values that had been honed over time and through difficult circumstances as we moved towards the same goal together.
Loyalty is more than just obedience or following some HR-prescribed framework for good interpersonal relations.
The loyalty we shared wasn’t a function of rank or position but was an internal commitment of the heart for one another.
And that realization adds weight to leadership.
That’s the kind of thing that changes how a leader speaks, decides, and carries responsibility. Because once someone is willing to suffer rather than disappoint you, you understand that loyalty is not something leaders demand.
It is something they are entrusted with, and at that point leadership becomes very personal.
If this reflection was helpful, feel free to forward it to another leader who might appreciate it.
If something in this reflection stirred questions or feels close to where you are right now, you're welcome to book a Leadership Strategy Call - a calm, pressure-free conversation designed to help you gain clarity and a next step.
Dan
Advisor to Leaders
A steady presence when the weight of leadership gets heavy