Here's why: The lack of supervision and the lack of training of the staff sergeant by the company commander and first sergeant led to the sergeant not getting enough sleep and the staff sergeant not being properly trained and held accountable. The sergeant shouldn't have punched the staff sergeant, obviously, but I think the situation was the direct result of a lack of engagement by the company staff—all despite my direct guidance.
“You don't get it,” I had told the company commander many times. “You need to be walking the decks, making sure your drill instructors aren't falling out of their shoes because they're so tired. You need to make sure that the recruits aren't being abused.”
I tried to work with the commander, and I could see she wasn't happy about it. But I was not mean to her. I did not yell at her.
Roll my eyes? Maybe. I was definitely frustrated. “Frustrated” is probably the wrong word. We're Marines. When we're told to do a job, we do it. We don't mouth off. We don't ignore the direction. We might offer feedback—just like with any other job—but we sure as hell don't ignore the instruction.
I had specifically directed her and her first sergeant to train and monitor their DIs to prevent situations like this one.
At the same time, I could see that the company commander wasn't the one making decisions in her company. The company commander would come into my office and brief “her” decisions, and I would ask her questions:
“Why are you doing this?”
“Have you thought about this?”
“How are you implementing this?”
She didn't have the answers.
That was between February and April.
In the meantime, the officer directly in charge of the sergeant who punched the staff sergeant was angry because I held her feet to the fire, too. She complained to the company commander, who, of course, complained to my executive officer.
Eventually, the staff sergeant completed her tour but did not receive a performance award before she left. The sergeant, who went back to being a regular DI, finished her tour successfully, and I gave her an end-of-tour award. The first sergeant was too busy being tough to notice. After I was relieved, I also sent a letter to the sergeant's command, recommending that her nonjudicial punishment be stricken from her record so she could be considered for promotion with her peers. I wanted her to know I understood what had happened.
The company commander had her change of command coming up in May. She was obviously just biding her time—planning her wedding, playing soccer, counting days. (This is not to suggest, of course, that Marines cannot plan their weddings or have interests and commitments outside of the Marines. However, when those commitments interfere with the completion of their duties, we obviously have a problem.)
But before the CO could escape, one of her Marines requested mast because the other DIs harassed her so relentlessly.
The DI came to me and said, “I can't do this anymore.”
The DI said she could no longer work in Papa Company.
During the request mast, the DI, who was brand-new to the drill field, was denied the ability to go to Medical when she was sick. She was also being forced to do all of the menial tasks in her platoon and was not being taught how to lead recruits. She said she felt she was being set up to fail and that she wanted a transfer to another company. When I reviewed the new DI's training record jacket, I found the series commander and staff were not doing what they needed to do to certify the DI and train her based on my requirements.
I had just conducted the Mean Girls syndrome training in April with the company officers. We had talked about performance improvement and engaged listening. I gave them all the tools. They were fully aware of all of the expectations to which they would be held accountable. But the company commander didn't care. She was leaving in May.
I moved her DI—the one who requested mast—to November Company, under the leadership of my new company commander, and she began to do well. I told the Papa Company commander that it was unacceptable that she hadn't bothered to ask the right questions to find out what was going on in her battalion so she could hold her Marines accountable.
“If your Marines are being mean to her and not allowing her to go to Medical when she says she's sick, that shouldn't be something only I can figure out by asking a few questions,” I told her.
The CO, of course, complained to Colonel Haas. He later told me that she believed I was too hard on her.
I learned from the investigation that she said she was afraid of reprisal—that she wasn't going to receive her end-of-tour award.
I had already approved her award—she just didn't know it.
When I arrived at Fourth Battalion, I realized that we had some serious maintenance issues. When things broke, they simply didn't get fixed for many months on end.
When the air-conditioning goes out in South Carolina, it is, in fact, a problem. By the time I arrived at work every day between 5 and 6 a.m., the heat already felt like a steamy blanket. By noon, we were all soaked. My recruits and Marines desperately needed respite—there was no sleeping in that heat without some AC.
At first, I thought the problem was the maintenance people. As it turned out, my executive officer simply wasn't doing her job.
The XO serves as a commander's right hand: She handles the administrative, keeping-things-moving stuff, while the lieutenant colonel figures out the “people”
