This kid was probably three feet tall. She was the tiniest recruit, and her pack was as big as she was. She was amazing, and, man, did she want that Eagle, Globe, and Anchor.
Did I mention that row of chairs set up for the emblem ceremony?
We took those away in August.
When I removed the chairs, the only problem I faced was fear in the eyes of my boss. He looked at me like it was going to be the most catastrophic event ever at Parris Island.
But as when we told uninjured recruits that quitting was not an option during hikes, when we removed the chairs from behind the female formation, the women stood taller. They were proud to have pushed past their physical and mental perceived limits to earn those Eagle, Globe, and Anchor devices, and, man, was I proud of them.
We had another big success: I had asked Colonel Haas to integrate the Crucible, explaining that it made no sense to have men and women marching separate routes only to end up at the parade deck at the same time for the same ceremony. Everywhere else in the Corps, men and women hike together. Amazingly, Colonel Haas concurred, as long as I worked it out with my male battalion commander peers. We did our first integrated Crucible hike in November with great results—shockingly great, especially since we were expected to fail.
Pre-work—the conditioning and proper training—and the changes to our PT plans had paid off, and we saw significant improvement in the ability of the female recruits to complete the hikes along with the men at the same doctrinal three-mile-per-hour rate of march, and carrying the same sixty-five-pound pack load.
The biggest challenge? Figuring out the logistics of having only one set of heads (bathrooms).
Over time, as we improved everything else, the female recruits’ confidence grew. If you're running with the fastest, you're feeling pretty badass. If you're running with the slowest but you're getting faster, you're feeling like you've accomplished something you didn't know you could do. If you're shooting expert, you're beginning to believe you can actually do this whole Marine thing.
Eventually, fewer women fell out of hikes and out of graduation ceremonies.
Even better, fewer women fell out of hikes at MCT.
We had also seen lower academic scores for the female recruits. This made no sense to me, first, because the women tended to have more college experience than the men, but also because academics is another area—like drill and ceremony—where there shouldn't be a difference between the sexes. But, as we started digging in, it began to make more sense.
We knew the male DIs were more likely to have tactical combat experience than were the female DIs. Many of the male drill instructors had recently returned from multiple tours in serious ground-combat situations. They reinforced their lessons with things they'd learned in combat or stories that emphasized the need to do something a certain way. Perhaps more important, they taught with the enthusiasm that comes with wanting to make sure you keep your recruits alive.
Most of our female DIs came from supply or other administrative backgrounds, and they simply didn't have that knowledge. They taught the classes by the book. The learning experience is different when your instructor has been in a live situation with rounds coming down-range and his or her pals being shot at.
Even within our own battalion, there were difficulties. Because different drill instructors gave some of the classes in their squad bays, instruction wasn't standardized. It was hard to know who did a good job, and who did a half-assed job. In a big classroom, you're more likely to get more enthusiasm from the instructor.
I would have liked to have had all of our classes with the men. I would have liked to put a female platoon next to a male platoon on the rifle range. I would have liked to have integrated our physical-fitness training—or, at least, the physical-fitness test. It would have not only brought more knowledge to my women but also created a level of competition and respect between the male and female recruits. And it would have shown the men that the women were, in fact, doing the work.
As we changed the way we trained the female recruits, I recognized that probably 90 percent of my Marines were incredibly motivated. They were excited to make changes and see improvement.
But November Company continued to lag behind the other companies. Probably a third of the drill instructors in November Company just weren't happy. Most of them were on the third year of their tours, and they'd already been told, because no one had looked at the stats, that they were amazing and doing incredible things. So when I came in and changed things up, and everything improved, it made those amazing and incredible things look small.
I wasn't prepared for that—for people who wouldn't support proven good results—but also for leaders who wouldn't get behind me. I was met with the typical, “But we've always…” And, in November Company, they simply didn't make the changes, and then they claimed that the changes didn't work. Personally, I would have been so embarrassed to lead the only company that did not show improvement; and, honestly, it was so much fun—the excitement in the platoons that saw success was amazing. But November Company was behaving like the kid who stands in the corner, pouting about something everyone else has forgotten, while everyone else is having fun playing kickball.
One particular sergeant in November Company gave me
