At the time of this life changing incident I had recently been blessed by the United States Army with a change of duty station. Transposing a baby faced 19 year old from Fort Sam in San Antonio to Fort Riley in my homeland state of Kansas. Although I completely enjoyed wearing shorts and playing sand volleyball in the middle of February, I was soon living a blessed life by being stationed roughly 2 hours from my hometown of Wichita. At the time that this happened it was unheard of for soldiers to be stationed by “the needs of the army” in their home state and so close to friends, family, and relation. I was close enough to Wichita that I had friends asking me if I was kicked out of the army simply because I was home with such frequency after this change of station.
One thing to be understood was this, working in a hospital or medical specialist setting in lush Fort Sam was an amazing time. It was the stuff of Army commercials and recruiters tales to young men in hopes of garnering an enlistment. I hung out in arcades, movies, and malls in down town San Antonio during the weekend. I wore scrubs on occasion to perform my work not BDU's (battle dress uniform). I didn’t have the life I had previously imagined in the service watching Full Metal Jacket as a kid. Things such as being treated like “Private Pile” or being castigated over a jelly doughnut and humiliated relentlessly never happened after I started my regular "job" in the army. It was a good time at Fort Sam. So with this in mind understand how I was immediately in culture shock moving from this sugar coated recruiting video of service and going to the harsh reality of on of the most historic divisions of the United States Army and being transplanted in an infantry battalion.
Yes, I had basic combat training. Yes, I know I enlisted to be a “soldier.” With this being stipulated, I was not in a combat arms capacity prior to going to the Big Red One. Here is this “high speed low drag” infantry battalion where everyone had to keep their fecal matter in order or face the consequences of not understanding the matters of life and death. Guys who had just gotten back from the first gulf war knew that on a battlefield there were no do-overs and relentlessly pounded these points into young privates who just wanted to drink and chase skirts off post. The constant needs for deployment of the types of unit I was in meant constant training and field exercises. (At the time Bosnia was very heated and sister units were being deployed.) With in 2 weeks of settling into my new duty station, figuring out what all of my gear was for, we immediately went to a field training problem in the stark, cold, nasty Kansas winter.
I was assigned to drive the battalion aide station for Staff Sergeant Hinton. We followed the command and Bradley Fighting Vehicles. We set up and coordinated the medical evacuations for the front line troops and infantry in the Bradleys. My gear was packed up, I had everything on the packing list, loaded up my gear into our armored vehicle and headed out to spend a few weeks in the cold. With all of this being said, I was not as prepared as I thought I was.
For those not familiar with army culture in general, in between fighting and training, soldiers have a lot of down time. This can be both good and bad. Most of the time we filled the time with magazines, card games, insulting each other, and our music players. Without some sort of structure or guidance a lot of young guys (myself included) can get into a lot of shenanigans both in garrison and in the field. These are all stories for another day because I am tying to make a point. All of this may seem pointless to state but one of the most life changing incidents I had as a youth arose out of my first bit of down time in a field training exercise and it has a way of putting the situation into proper context.
At the first opportunity to screw off, Sergeant Hinton and myself were sitting in the back of the M577 and I immediately broke out my car magazines and comic books while listening to my Aerosmith cassette tape and Sergeant Hinton broke out some fried chicken. This is where it all began.
We had left earlier in the morning at about 0500 hours (5 AM) to convoy to where we were setting up for the exercise. By the time we got a chance to relax it was about 1400 (2 PM). Upon seeing and smelling fried chicken my mind immediately went, “HEY! I HAVEN’T EATEN!”
I then asked Sergeant Hinton, “Where did you get the Chicken?”
Sergeant Hinton said, “From home, you didn’t pack extra food?”
PFC Hunter (Me) replied, “We can do that?” With an extremely perplexed look on my face.
To which Sergeant Hinton responded, “Didn’t you pick up some MRE’s (meals ready to eat) at supply before we left?”
I answered, “No, I thought they brought them out here.”
Sergeant Hinton then said, “How much chicken do you want?”
So then I began immediately chowing down on some fried chicken in the frigid cold and continued reading car magazines.
A couple of days had passed and I felt pretty guilty about eating more then my fair share of Sergeant Hinton’s chicken. When we had some down time I offered what I felt was a proper apology and offered to take him out to eat some chicken when we were back in garrison due to the fact that he helped me out when I was starving.
Sergeant Hinton looked up at me and appeared to be very angry! I felt like maybe I had said something stupid, taken out of context. Maybe he had simply been hiding his anger from me because I was being such a dumb private? He looked at me, shook his head, and paused for what seemed like the longest minute ever while I waited for him to speak. Now understand this, I was enthusiastic about the army. I loved it and everything about it. I wanted to be a good solider. I wanted to not only just meet the standard, but completely exceed it. I wanted the shiniest boots, the cleanest uniform, the tightest haircut. I wanted to be the professional soldier who took pride and consideration in all I did. Here I was, immediately out of the gate in my new unit making an absolutely bone head move and not properly preparing to take care of myself in the field. Sergeant Hinton’s face made all of these thoughts flash before me as time stood still and he looked at me with such angst and disappointment. I felt like all of my perceived visions of being the best soldier immediately slip away as I knew what was to follow was his imminent disapproval of my idiocy.
Sergeant Hinton was the type that did not talk a lot. He was a quiet family man who made the occasional joke or had a smile on his face. He had been around for a while, Sergeant Hinton was maybe 43 years old, had seen a couple of wars, was a little thick in the middle for a soldier, and often needed a haircut. Sergeant Hinton was about 2 years out from retirement, abnormally calm, and slow to anger. My first impression of him was he was a tired, kind, old soldier and to see him in this state made me feel as if I had done something so far outside of the ordinary as to make someone of such humble demeanor so angry.
In what seemed like the hours since Sergeant Hinton began his gaze of doom he finally expressed the meaning behind his facial contortion. Sergeant Hinton asked me to sit down and listen carefully, which in my two weeks of knowing him this was often his way. It added gravity to what he was saying and often helped a know-it-all kid with moderate intelligence understand someone who had the many miles on them I had not yet seen.
Sergeant Hinton said to me in his slow methodical way of speaking, “Listen Hunter, you don’t owe me a thing. If anything I owe you. It was my responsibility to make sure you had food before we left and I failed you as a NCO. (Non-commissioned officer) Since it was my fault you did not have any food before we left, it is my responsibility to make sure you eat however I can. My job is your welfare and I owe you the best leadership I can give. Do you want a coke?” So I stood there with my mouth open as Sergeant Hinton handed me a soda from his duffle bag chilled from being stored on top of the vehicle in the cold of winter. Of course I took the coke...we were in the middle of no man's land.
We sat there a little bit while I looked through the Jenny McCarthy issue of Playboy and Sergeant Hinton spoke up again and said, “When we get back I want you to read the NCO creed. I also want you to forgive me for not making sure you came to the field with food. I also want you to promise me when you are a Sergeant some day you will take better care of your troops.” Then he asked me what other magazines I had in my magic bag of literature and field magazines.
I was still a pretty young man when this happened. It took a few years for this lesson to sink it. Most good lessons that are worth it take time to digest. The thing that stuck out to me the most was the fact that Sergeant Hinton didn’t even mention his sacrifice after that. It was only fried chicken….but in the field with no stores or places to eat in a military perimeter; Supply and demand make fried chicken, chewing tobacco, cigarettes, girlie mags, and music drastically increase in value. Sergeant Hinton gave me all of his chicken and even after this talk it still took a little while to figure out why.
There is a line in the NCO creed that states the following….
“All soldiers are entitled to outstanding leadership; I will provide that leadership. I know my soldiers and I will always place their needs above my own.”
Sergeant Hinton might not have realized what he did by keeping the creed and living by it as a code. In doing so, he made me the most loyal of troops. I knew that he legitimately cared about those left in his charge. It also taught me that he was willing to sacrifice his own comfort and ease for that of a subordinate. I also realize that he made me promise to do the same some day not realizing the responsibility that it encompassed.
Leadership is sacrifice. Leadership is first taking care of your people so that in turn they will want to willingly take care of you. If you are selfish or power hungry in your position of privilege you cannot develop a good group or a team if your only motivation is the needs and concern of yourself. Sergeant Hinton either knew this, or instinctually developed it at some point in time and applied it to his style of leadership. I also think that the fact that he asked me to read the NCO creed long before my time as a leader validated the fact that he knew this and saw it as an example to lead by that same code.
All too often I see people put in positions of leadership who have yet to learn this lesson in life. When I was in a position of leadership I tried to emulate a lot of the positive qualities I saw in Staff Sergeant Hinton. By trial and error I did my best and had some very amazing troops and people under my management and leadership. What is disheartening is that with even more resources, training, and leadership schools available with the internet and school access a lot of people still can not figure out how such a simple act of making a sacrifice is an investment towards whatever common goal or mission an organization may have. Sergeant Hinton gave freely of his own person because he felt he failed me as a leader. His sacrifice still moves me over 15 years later.
Sergeant Hinton retired before I made Sergeant myself. I wish I knew how to find him today and thank him. I carry on his leadership in how I handle things and make sacrifices for people in my own life even to this day reflective of some of the things he taught me. Thank you Staff Sergeant Hinton.
When was the last time you as a person or leader gave up a piece or two of fried chicken because of your imperfect leadership in a relationship, professional or otherwise? Thanks for reading.
Brian Hunter
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NCO Creed:
No one is more professional than I. I am a Noncommissioned Officer, a leader of soldiers. As a Noncommissioned Officer, I realize that I am a member of a time honored corps, which is known as "The Backbone of the Army". I am proud of the Corps of Noncommissioned Officers and will at all times conduct myself so as to bring credit upon the Corps, the Military Service and my country regardless of the situation in which I find myself. I will not use my grade or position to attain pleasure, profit, or personal safety.
Competence is my watchword. My two basic responsibilities will always be uppermost in my mind -- accomplishment of my mission and the welfare of my soldiers. I will strive to remain technically and tactically proficient. I am aware of my role as a Noncommissioned Officer. I will fulfill my responsibilities inherent in that role. All soldiers are entitled to outstanding leadership; I will provide that leadership. I know my soldiers and I will always place their needs above my own. I will communicate consistently with my soldiers and never leave them uninformed. I will be fair and impartial when recommending both rewards and punishment.
Officers of my unit will have maximum time to accomplish their duties; they will not have to accomplish mine. I will earn their respect and confidence as well as that of my soldiers. I will be loyal to those with whom I serve; seniors, peers, and subordinates alike. I will exercise initiative by taking appropriate action in the absence of orders. I will not compromise my integrity, nor my moral courage. I will not forget, nor will I allow my comrades to forget that we are professionals, Noncommissioned Officers, leaders!
