Marine Corps Stories: Leadership

A Yuma Arizona barracks room smelled like noodles. Two junior Marines were waiting for their meals to finish cooking in the microwave. Their meals, two bowls of pasta, were bubbling away in ceramic bowls of water when they both decided to speak their minds.

“I’m just saying the Corps places too much emphasis on leadership,” Lance Corporal Weston Blacklock said.

“Really?” Lance Corporal Jawal Muhammad replied.

Blacklock continued, “I mean, the word ‘leader’ is put on such a pedestal. Chrissakes, Hitler was a leader. What do you think ‘führer’ means?”

“Well, that describes a certain leader. A more tyrannical and harsh leader,” Muhammed countered.

“Whatever. They want you to get into the Corps, and then they find all sorts of ways to keep you from advancing. That’s why the term ‘terminal lance’ exists.”

“But there are reenlistment packages and multiple opportunities to go up the enlisted ranks or become a mustang, man,” Muhammad said. The timer kept ticking down on Muhammad’s chicken-flavored, and Blacklock’s shrimp-flavored noodles.

“I think you should strive to be corporal,” Blacklock said, tossing his cover against the wall. “You would be a great NCO. SNCO, too. Don’t you have like a 110 GT score?”

“Thanks for pushing for my promotion, and yes, I do have a 110 GT.”

“So you should be a leader. I’m terminal. There’s no way I’m going to advance in my MOS. It’s just not going to happen.”

Muhammed wagged his finger at Blacklock, a little exasperated at this point, “You keep saying that and it won’t.”

“Leadership is for the top brass,” Blacklock said. “It’s all about them telling people under them to do things, so that they can smoke cigars and golf.”

Muhammad shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I know generals who won’t even let their company officers iron their uniforms for them. There are colonels who get up at zero dark thirty and PT for two hours while everyone else sleeps. And the enlisted? I know for a fact Master Guns Harley takes classes online at Arizona State to improve his understanding of leadership roles.”

“Okay, okay. So you’ve got a few anecdotes about how these Marines have excelled in their respective positions. I still say leadership is way overrated.” Blacklock insisted, unconvinced.

“Alright. Let’s say our recruit training and MCT skills were put to the test. We’re in the field. Wouldn’t you want a confident, competent Marine leading you, or better still, wouldn’t you want to exhibit those traits yourself? It could mean the difference between you and a round in your head, or one in your buddy’s skull. How do you feel about leadership now?”

“I see your point, but the closest we’ll get to combat most likely will be on a game console. We trained for the worst ‘just in case.’ We fire rifles...just in case. We complete combat courses...just in case. Most of us Marines will not be like the grunts. Sure, there will be some of us who’ll be sent to the sand, and go outside the wire. But that’s rare.”

Muhammad shook his head again, “You just don’t get it. The Marines go wherever the gunfire is. The percentage of deployment to combat zones is still a reality for non-infantry MOS jobs. So, no we may never be in a combat zone, but we must have the mentality that we, as individuals, are ready to go to the battlefield no matter the circumstances.”

Blacklock brought out a screenshot of his enlistment papers.

“I asked my recruiter if I could take a picture of each sheet before I filled it out. He agreed to it. I have these pictures to remind me of how close my EAS is going to be. I’ll take pictures of my DD214, too. It’ll be like bookends to a combat-free career.”

“You never know, my friend,” Muhammad said, as the microwave dinged.