That meant we put people in charge based on rank, and not because they were the best and the brightest. This didn't seem right to me, because when you're training young recruits and there are so many things that can go wrong—including people violating positions of authority—choosing the best and the brightest for leadership roles seems key.
And, of course, I tried to convince Colonel Haas about how this policy would further compound Fourth Battalion's personnel problems. As usual, I received no support. There was some good news: The policy would allow sergeants who previously had served as senior DIs to continue in that role, as long as we provided justification and asked for permission prior to each new training cycle.
Prior to my arrival at Parris Island, an experienced sergeant was selected to be a senior drill instructor in Papa Company—she was a great Marine and one of my most trusted advisers. I knew she would continue to excel as a leader, so I supported her continuing as a senior DI.
Each platoon had a senior DI, and there were two platoons per series. A few months before I was relieved, it became clear that the new policy was going to cause problems. A staff sergeant was selected as the senior DI for Papa Company's second platoon. She went through the board process to ensure she was bare-bones qualified, and she was selected “with reservation.” This meant, “Watch this woman. She's a little green around the edges.” She needed training and mentoring from company staff to help her develop strong leadership skills. We didn't have any other staff sergeants to take her place, but we hoped more experienced DIs would help her learn. Ultimately, the company commander and first sergeant supervised, trained, and evaluated senior DIs.
This staff sergeant was not a leader. She had been an administrative Marine who had never been in charge of anyone before she got to Parris Island. She came across as passive and disengaged. She seemed to believe the senior DI's role was to scream at recruits, rather than to mentor and den-mom them and her DIs. It's not as if she was supposed to give out cookies and pizza, but the recruits were supposed to be able to go to her and say, “Hey. I saw this happen. The drill instructor touched this recruit inappropriately.” She never understood that, and it may be because her first sergeant also didn't get it.
She also liked to remind other drill instructors that she outranked them—she did not seem to understand that rank did not a leader make.
Sergeant Major and I went back to the CO and informed her that the staff sergeant “has been selected ‘with reservation.’ You need to make sure you keep an eye on her: Mentor her, train her, catch her mistakes, and reprimand her. She's had issues in the past.”
Soon after a new group of recruits showed up for training, however, I saw that that wasn't happening. Instead, the CO carried on with her wedding-planning duties and soccer. The first sergeant continued to rate her senior DIs based on how tough she perceived them to be, rather than by the career-progression checklist my sergeant major and I had implemented.
Even though the sergeant who had been carried over as a senior DI in spite of the new policy was doing a good job, the combination of her leadership not properly monitoring the situation and the staff sergeant being too big for her boots soon forced an explosion.
The sergeant was frustrated because she wasn't getting the rest she needed: She was in charge of her platoon, but she also had to constantly watch over the other senior DI. The staff sergeant was not receptive to advice from the sergeant, even though she had never managed anyone before. Because the company commander and first sergeant never got around to training the staff sergeant, the sergeant had to do the staff sergeant's work.
About a week after the new recruits had been picked up—when all of the drill instructors were tired and impatient—the sergeant lost her temper. The staff sergeant was also hitting the sergeant with some “I'm the staff sergeant you have to do what I tell you” BS. When the platoons came back to the squad bays after morning PT to shower and change, the staff sergeant and sergeant argued over who needed to perform a task. After being told she needed to do the task because she was junior to the staff sergeant, the sergeant lost it, and—in front of the drill instructors and recruits—she punched the daylights out of the staff sergeant.
It was just about the worst thing for the recruits to see—especially from a senior DI. The sergeant, who had incredible potential, immediately felt destroyed because she understood the enormity of what she had done. The recruits and other DIs were distraught because they loved and respected the sergeant as their senior DI, and they knew that her action could destroy her career.
And the staff sergeant? Well, she knew she had technically done nothing wrong, and that her career was safe.
Everyone in the company knew tension had been building between the two senior DIs. But no one stepped in. They said it was “just a female thing,” “just an enlisted Marine thing.”
This happened in January. We did an investigation in February.
I said, “Look. I don't have a choice here: One's a staff sergeant; one's a sergeant. The sergeant punched a staff sergeant. I have to hold her accountable.”
If I had looked the other way, I was going to be the same kind of person my Marines had complained about in the previous year's equal-opportunity survey when they said nobody held anybody accountable.
So we brought the sergeant into my office for nonjudicial punishment. I told the sergeant that the nonjudicial punishment itself was on her record, and I gave her a counseling letter that would remain in her file. I didn't want to reduce her in rank or fine her. I knew
