Jessica Scott

I’ve blogged a lot about my experience in Iraq with some of the folks I’ve worked with. I’ve also been honest with you about some of my failures, both as a leader and as an officer. But at the end of the day, my failures in those situations, my decisions to act or not act for whatever my justifications, were my decisions and my failure has weighed heavily on my heart.

The second and third order effects of my failures are that some people in the army have gotten promoted due to my unwillingness or inability to fall on my sword.

A few weeks ago, I had a phenomenal opportunity to sit down with my former brigade commander and pick his brain about my future as a company commander. In the hour and a half that he sat with me, we talked about some of the things that went wrong and some of the things that he saw that I had not. A hard lesson I had to learn as I’ve come through the ranks is that the people above me making decisions have access to information I do not have and he saw things at his level that I simply did not and even if I did, we would not have seen the same things.

When we talked about NCO/officer relationship, I confessed to him where I failed. I told him explicitly what I did and why I did it. Do you have any idea how hard it is to look into the face of a leader you respect and admire and look up to and tell him how badly you screwed up? And to watch the disappointment flicker there when he told me how many weak words I’d just used?

Yeah, it sucks. And you know what else? He didn’t cut me any slack. He told me point blank that the action I took probably result in that individual being promoted. Maybe even being my first sergeant. He laid it out for me. And then he said get over it. Did you learn from it? I said yes. He then laid out for me that some fights are worth lying on your sword for, some are not but that I made the best decision I could at the time and that other people had a vote. It was not only my decision that sent that NCOER through.

It was truly cathartic for me to admit what I’d done and where I failed. I’ve carried around that failure with me for a year now. That NCOER was mostly the truth but it was better than it should have been. But I also learned a powerful lesson and when he explained to me that no relationship is static, they are constantly in flux and subject to assessment, I had an epiphany as to where I’d failed. I’d failed to constantly adjust and redefine right and left limits in that specific relationship.

So I’ve finally found a way to let go of the guilt I’ve been carrying around inside me for this. It was not an absolution but a way of finally learning what I was supposed to from that whole experience. Because for the life of me, before I’d talked with my former commander, I had no idea what I was supposed to learn from what, in my mind, was one of the biggest mistakes as an officer I’ve made to date.

I understand so many more things now but with that understanding comes new expecations. It’s like one burden has been lifted, replaced by a new responsibility to live up to the things he taught me.

I’m so incredibly lucky to have been part of this brigade and have this brigade commander to step on my neck. That sounds funny but he demanded more from me than I ever thought possible and sometimes more than I thought was fair. But he held me to a high level of performance and he told me I’d lived up to his expectations.

Hearing that? Well I can’t really explain how that made me feel.

It made a lot of the painful lessons of the last two plus years worthwhile. I understood his intent very clearly from the moment he told me what had happened to him in Sadr City. I knew what his intent was for communications in his brigade and I busted my ass to make that happen. I didn’t always succeed but I never quit.

I was meant to go through that pain to learn those lessons. Finally, I understand some of the things that have been driving me absolutely nuts. And I’ve had the opportunity to be influenced by one of the strongest leaders I’ve ever met in my entire career.

I hope the signal world is ready for some venom because that was his charge to me as I leave this brigade and head back to my roots in the signal corps. But I’ll never forget where I come from or the foundation that was laid for me as an officer in my brigade.

Oh and I’m completely borrowing one of his sayings. I will freely admit to it right here: Don’t Mistake My Passion for Anger.

This ought to be interesting.

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Yeah, yeah, I know I said I wasn’t going to be online much as I’m in a self enforced deadline and MUST work if I ever hope to make writing, oh, I don’t know, a career.

But as I was driving to work today, something about my conversation with my old brigade commander a couple of weeks ago struck me. Actually, it hit me in the head. But first, a tangent.

I’m a soldier. That doesn’t mean that being a soldier and being a girlie girl are mutually exclusive, it just means that for me, I’m more comfortable in combat boots than high heels. Yesterday, I registered for the RWA National conference in Orlando. Now, for those that are part of the fantastic Austin RWA group, I usually show up in uniform because I leave straight from work to get down to Austin in a reasonable amount of time (I’ve been terrible about going this year and I’m trying to get better). But I always sit with my back to the door and I’m almost always terrible uncomfortable.

See, I’m surrounded by women. Great women. Awesome women who adopted me while I was deployed last year and sent me packages every single month. They didn’t forget about me when I fell of the planet for a while when I was dealing with some personal issues. They are fantastic.

And yet, I’m awkward and unsure of myself every time I step into the room. I worry that I’ll swear too much or be too impatient or say something that might be perfectly reasonable to me but strike a civilian as completely horrible. And I desperately don’t want to offend any of them because they are an awesome group of ladies.

But to be honest, my entire adult life has been spent surrounded by men. There are a few women scattered throughout the formation but by and large, I’m one of the few girls. So even though I wear makeup in uniform, I don’t wear much. I don’t want guys to look at me and see a girl, I want them to see a soldier. And even though the first thing they DO see is a girl, they don’t see a girlie girl and when I open my mouth, it’s obvious that I am a soldier first.

As I get ready to go to RWA, I realize that I am going to have to be on guard. I’m going to have to polish the turd, so to speak. To learn to have entire conversations without swearing, even when I’m relaxed.

Do you have any freaking idea how hard that is going to be? Oh and it says on the website business casual. Um, I own jeans. And t-shirts. And flip flops because when I’m chasing my kids around the zoo, heels aren’t exactly what I would call functional (I am, however, in awe of women who do decide to go to the zoo in high heels but I wonder if they’ve taken pain medication before hand?).

That being said, every time I go to ARWA, I’m glad I went because I learn a little more about how to relax and how to be a little more of a girl. I won’t be a soldier forever. At some point I’m going to have to get reacquainted with my feminine side.

And apparently, that was supposed to start the moment I commissioned. When my former brigade commander gave me some of his valuable time for mentorship, he pointed out that I still have some of my NCO tendencies. He asked me how many times he’d sworn during our conversation and I couldn’t honestly think of any. Then he asked how many I had. And I flushed but he said it was fine because we had a relationship. I wouldn’t talk like that if I was talking to the division commander and he was right.

So as I move further into my transition as an officer AND as a writer, I realize that I have to find ways to be a little less crass, a little more polished. I have to swear a lot less and find a ton more patience.

In essence, I have to start polishing the turd.

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I was unable to watch the Hood memorial ceremony from over here in Iraq but I caught a bit of it on TV.

I’ve got to say, having sat through multiple memorials over here, watching the TV for the one at Hood felt a little off. It was so strange seeing the field that I run PT on every morning filled with soldiers, the American flag draped over the entrance of the III Corps Headquarters.

The first memorial I ever went to was for a battalion commander we lost here in combat. It was a horrible shock and a catastrophic event. The CAC, where we conduct all ceremonies here on the FOB, was packed. After all, Lieutenant Colonels don’t usually make the casualty roster. So when my battalion lost a private and the CAC wasn’t nearly as full, it was kind of an eye opener.

I appreciate that the president went and offered his respects at the ceremony. But I wonder, did he ask the family members if they wanted him there? And I’m truly just wondering that. I thought he made a thoughtful decision earlier this year when he left the decision of photographs being taken at Dover up to the families. But I really wonder if anyone asked these families. They are as much a casualty of this war as anyone who died over here this year.

On the other hand, I recognize that the nation needs to mourn with us. That there is a kinship and a support for our soldiers even when we might close ranks and only stand with those who serve with us. Those who know what it feels like to stand on a tarmac and salute a flag draped coffin. That is an experience very few Americans know or understand and the reaction is to keep it to ourselves.

When we put on the uniform, we choose to become symbols of our nation. We give up our rights as individuals and become Soldier. That does not mean our deaths should be impersonal or turned into a symbol. Because each one of those Soldiers being mourned today was a brother or a sister, a son or a daughter, a wife or a husband.

So I’m conflicted. My gut says this is ours but my head says we need to show the world that we’re better than what that bastard tried to make us out to be.

My heart and prayers go out to the families of the victims and to the victims still recovering. Get well, get strong, we still need you.

The person, not the symbol.

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10. She’s a people person.

9. Her children must be so well polite and well mannered.

8. You have to guess what she’s thinking.

7. Her body language is confused, I can’t tell if she’s angry or happy.

6. She’s so cute and flirty.

5. She really doesn’t get her point across well.

4. She’s too much of a girly girl to be in the army.

3. She doesn’t tell me when I’m screwing up, she’s kind of vague and indirect.

2. She’s so polite, she never swears or loses her temper.

1. She’s so nice.

That is all…

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You know what they say, right? It’s a cliché simply because it’s one of those truths that you really can’t ever escape from. But what if assumptions are more than that? What if they’re a bigger problem than you realize?

I assume. I assume a lot. As an officer with 14 years in service, 12 of them enlisted, I assume that anyone who’s been in the army for a minute has had similar experiences to mine. At least on the things that should be basic knowledge, such as property accountability and soldier issues. But I find myself more and more frustrated and after talking it over with a mentor of mine, I realize that the problem isn’t necessarily with them, but with my assumptions.

See, I assume that as an SFC, you would have accomplishing the mission and the welfare of your soldiers foremost in your mind. I assume that as an SFC, something should not have to be spelled out. I assume that you understand that there are such things as implied tasks that go along with accomplishing the mission. And I assume that when an officer gives you an order, you absolutely use that as the basis for accomplishing the mission.

I do not assume that as a senior NCO or officer that you have zero knowledge of what right looks like regarding property accountability. I do not assume that I must break every single task down to the minutia and I assume that you know what minutia means. I do not assume that making a simple correction is going to send you on a diatribe about people freaking out over property.

There is a reason that I am frustrated with some of the leadership in my company. I believe now that the problem lies with me. I assume standards of conduct are the norm, when in fact, watching TV and chilling out are. I assume that checking on your subscribers is a norm when instead, the norm is let the system fail and maybe get off your ass to fix it. I assume that when I say do something tonight, that means it happens tonight, not that as long as it happens by morning, it’s okay.

So I think the problem is that I assume.

This actually has relevance in my writing. I write about military life and I make assumptions about what my reader knows. I assume that someone knows that a brigade combat team is made up of battalions. I assume that people know the difference between officers and NCOs and that they know what NCO stands for. I assume that when I talk about the responsibilities of command, that people know that I’m talking about an officer’s responsibilities and not an enlisted.

These assumptions have the potential to derail my writing. If I leave out explanation, I risk pulling the reader out of the story to go look things up. If I put in too much, I risk patronizing or talking down to them. So the importance is to find the right balance and create my world without pages of explanation.

Will I be able to paint my world here in Iraq, as the XO and make my platoon sergeants and platoon leaders understand what I expect without having to waste precious time and resources explaining every detail?

We shall see.

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Okay, when I screw up, I think I’m pretty good at admitting it. That’s part of being an officer that I remember from training my lieutenants as a young staff sergeant and sergeant first class. Own up. Your soldiers will respect you more and you’ll sleep better at night.

So I can’t help it if someone is too stupid to realize that they’re too stupid for their current job. I know I’m being blunt, but come on, do you really expect anything less from me at this point?

So what I really really want to know is why some people don’t get fired? Is it their ability to keep six pounds of makeup from melting off their face in 112 degree heat? Why is it that the most incompetent people get to keep their jobs? We’re 7 months in at this point! Either you’re going to learn your job or your not. How many chances do people get?

And here’s what really sets me off about the whole darn situation. If I screw up, my boss will go over my ass with a wire brush. And then pour alcohol on it. So why am I held to account when others aren’t? Either hold us all to the same standard or no standard.

The argument I hear is well, they volunteer to be here and serve during war. I’d volunteer to be in the Infantry, doesn’t mean I belong there. Some jobs require technical skills that some people just won’t master. Ever. So why continue to subject an entire brigade combat team to less than the best? Hell, I’ll take mediocre at this point. Even lazy.

I’m just really tired of incompetent.

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Okay, I recognize that leadership is not an inherited trait. Some people are better at it than others. But some people have no business being leaders. They should really get out of the army and go home because they do a disservice to soldiers in the Army. They should also realize that they need to stay in their functional areas of expertise and not tell other people’s soldiers what to do.

And on the flip side of that, I am NOT a noncommissioned officer any more. I am a lieutenant and that means when a captain, regardless of how experienced, tells me to do something, I have to do it. Even when I KNOW I have a different mission. But that’s okay. That’s how the Army works and it works that way for a reason. Lieutenants do what captains tell them. Let’s just leave it at that, for now. I’m going to finish my book.

Later
Jess

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