Although this blog (I hate that word) is called Lessons in Life and Leadership, I would never be so presumptuous as to think I was qualified to teach anyone about leadership. I continue to work at it after all these years and still struggle to get it right. So, these lessons are not instructions as much as they are musings about the mistakes I have made and the lessons I have learned. One of the greatest men I know is Harry Mitch Highfill who was my Commanding Officer on the mighty BELLEAU WOOD in the early 90's. I remember a day at sea when I was standing Officer of the Deck on the bridge. I had just done something stupid, and had heard about it from Captain (later Rear Admiral) Highfill. When he was finished yelling at me, I told him "Sir, I will never make the same mistake twice." Captain Highfill just looked at me as he sat in his Captain's Chair and said "Yeah, but Murdock, you make every single one." All I could do was nod in agreement and say "Yes sir, I do." So, although I have yet to make it through the complete list of leadership mistakes I continue to work on it and I have made a pretty good dent in it.
A couple of events that occurred early on in my career as an officer went a long way toward teaching me lessons in ownership, accountability and communication. The first was when I was Boilers Officer on the mighty BELLEAU WOOD. As the Boilers Officer I was responsible for 56 Boiler Technicians and two 600 pound Boilers that created the steam used to propel the ship through the water. When we were underway at least one of the Boilers was always online (usually both) so my guys were working shifts around the clock. I remember getting a call in the middle of the night from one of my fellow Division Officers, Eric Anderson, telling me about a problem in the Engineering plant that concerned a piece of equipment that I owned. At sea, sleep comes at a premium, so I listened (kind of) and then fell right back into my rack, returning to a deep sleep. At breakfast the next morning I sat down with Eric and our department head feeling refreshed from a good night's sleep, although still a little perturbed that my beauty sleep had been interrupted. Eric mentioned the call and I told him "Yeah, thanks for the call, but next time couldn't it wait until morning?" Whoops. My first mistake was saying that in front of my department head because he quickly brought out his flame thrower and reduced me to a pile of ashes. It's tough finishing your pancakes as a pile of ashes. The other mistake was not realizing that Eric was calling me because I was responsible for the equipment 24 hours a day, and if the capability of the ship was reduced because of the failure of my equipment then our mission could possibly be degraded. It was my responsibility to ensure that we had a clear path to success to get the equipment back up in a timely manner. What I should have done when Eric called was get in contact with my guys and ensure they were on it and had that clear path. Then, I should have called my department head and informed him so he could call his boss and so on and so forth. What a knucklehead.
The next lesson was on the mighty BUNKER HILL just about three years later. The ship was homeported in Yokosuka, Japan and we were taking advantage of a beautiful Saturday to get underway for a Family Cruise where we could bring family and friends to experience life underway for a few hours. I was fairly new to the ship and as the Fire Control Officer I was responsible for the Aegis Weapon System including the SPY-1 radar which was basically the heart and soul of the Combat Systems on the ship. If SPY doesn't work we really were a cruise ship instead of a cruiser. I brought Midori and her sister on the cruise with me and was waiting in line on the flight deck for a tasty burger that the guys were cooking up as part of a steel beach picnic. While I was in line one of my guys came by and informed me that the SPY was down (meaning broken). I told him thanks and continued to wait in line with my wife and sister in law. Cmon, this is a Family Day Cruise, we aren't even going to use that radar today. A few minutes later my department head came by and asked me what I knew about the radar being down. I was a little annoyed that he brought it up in front of my family, but, alright, I would humor him and tell him what I know. He scurried away, obviously agitated about the whole situation. But I wasn't going to let anything deter me from the great day I was enjoying with the family. However, they were not going to let me enjoy the day. A few minutes later, over the 1MC (the public address system) I heard them say "Lieutenant Murdock, your presence is requested in the pilot house." Now this was the proper way to make an announcement when you were asking an officer to go somewhere. Since I was just a few feet away from the food I figured I could get my food quickly and then jet up to the bridge (pilot house). Unfortunately a moment later the call came "Lieutenant Murdock, pilothouse." When I heard that announcement (which did not have the same respectful tone the first one did) I knew that my "family cruise" was about to change drastically and I quickly excused myself and headed toward the bridge. I wasn't quick enough. As I was working my way from the flight deck to the bridge, one more announcement came over the 1MC..."Murdock, bridge!" I recognized that voice, how nice for the Captain to personally beckon me. My fate was sealed as the announcements went from very respectful to practically threatening. The great thing about announcements like that over the 1MC is that every person on the ship hears them, so everyone knew that life as I knew it would soon cease to exist. Once I arrived in the pilothouse the Captain had a very pointed discussion with me about my responsibilities. The only thing that saved me from being a pile of ashes that could drift away with the sea breeze was the group of family and friends of the crew that were all on the bridge while I was talking to the Captain. He wasn't going to completely destroy me in front of so many civilians, although I could feel my skin melting from the heat of his gaze. For a moment I swear he was trying to reach into my chest with his eyes so he could rip my heart out right there. Lesson? Communicate. Don't be the senior guy with bad news. If you find out that there is a problem, again, establish a clear path to success and let your boss know what it is. Your responsibility to your people, to your chain of command and to the mission are not suspended just because you are on a Family Cruise or because it is in the middle of the night or even if you are sitting at home enjoying dinner with the family. The responsibility and accountability is always there and it is important that action is taken if the mission is going to be degraded in any way.
Yes, those stories are fairly similar so, perhaps I spoke too soon when I told Harry Mitch Highfill that I never make the same mistake twice...but at least I haven't made every single one twice...yet.
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Learning the 49th Most Popular Language in the World
Four weeks into learning Pashto, I am amazed at how exhausting the process has been. On Friday afternoons I am physically and mentally spent. My days are filled with nothing but Pashto, Pashto, Pashto. I did some quick math (meaning it is probably incorrect). There are approximately 30 million native Pashto speakers between Afghanistan and the western area of Pakistan (since the Durand Line effectively split the Pashtun people in half). The literacy rate of those 30 million is about 14 percent. Now, if you talk to my instructor he will say it is up to 35 percent so reality is possibly somewhere in between. If we low ball it and stay with the 14 percent for the calculation, that means that approximately 4.2 million people actually read and write Pashto. Amazing that I now spend every waking moment (not too mention the occasional fitful dream) speaking, listening, reading and writing this language. I looked up a website that ranked the languages in the world by number of native speakers...alright it was Wikipedia...and Pashto comes in 49th. Now that still beats out many languages including Greek, Swedish, Welsh and Comanche, but still, this turn my life has taken (of my own doing) is surreal to say the least.
We are divided into small sections, so I sit around a table in a room with two other students while one and sometimes two instructors drill us on vocabulary, verb conjugation and conversational skills. There is absolutely no hiding when there are only three of you. The amazing thing is when they are asking a question of one of the other two, I always have the answer in my head, and I can't wait to blurt it out to save the poor guy who is fumbling and stumbling to find the correct word or phrase (poor insignificant fool!). Of course, once the instructor turns to me and asks me to speak in Pashto, that knowledge that I had in my head seeps out of my ears unexpectedly and I find myself fumbling and stumbling for the answer (becoming a poor, insignificant fool) while my two classmates stand ready to pounce on the answer at any sign of weakness or hesitation from me. It is amazing how that 50 percent switch becomes activated. Fifty percent of your knowledge seems to disappear the moment you are under the gun.
Some of the audio lessons we have in class and for homework, require us to listen to native speakers conversations and pick out the significant information in the dialogue. This has been the most difficult part for me, and without a doubt the most important skill I need to pick up. I have been doing great with the reading and writing portion of the lessons, but I am not going over there to read the newspaper. Trying to separate the important information from a stream of words that come at a lightning quick pace is daunting. Some lessons I have had to listen to the sentence twenty or more times to figure out what they are saying. I can see myself over there trying to converse and repeating over and over "Huh? Say again? What? Could you repeat?" That would not be pretty. Of course I have never been good with this. I remember sitting in the lobby of a hotel in Dallas, Texas when I was eleven year old. Dad was attending a convention and he turned it into a vacation for the family. As luck would have it, the Chicago White Sox were in town to play the Texas Rangers. We had gone to see the game the night before since my favorite player, Richie Allen was playing for the White Sox that year. So, as I am sitting in the lobby, with my White Sox ballcap on, two hispanic gentlemen sat down next to me and started to talk to me. This poor guy kept asking me a question but for the life of me I couldn't understand him. I was terribly nervous, so the fifty percent switch was in full activation and I finally asked him "how old am I ?" trying to figure out what he was saying. He finally slowed it down to my level and I was able to grasp that he was just asking how I was doing. Years later I am no better...scary.
On a completely different note, the man who was talking to me was an infielder for the White Sox named Luis Alvarado. After getting through the introductions I had a short conversation with him and got his autograph before scurrying off to find my family. I just googled Luis and sadly, he passed away nine years ago at the age of 52. That year with the White Sox was his best year in the majors.
Alright, back to the point. This language training is exhausting, yet I am having a great time. I enjoy coming in every day and learning something new. I revel in the challenge that it brings me and I have set high goals for myself. My brother is always telling me that learning a language has been known to fight off the possibility of Alzheimers which is definitely another significant benefit to this whole evolution. Three months to go!
We are divided into small sections, so I sit around a table in a room with two other students while one and sometimes two instructors drill us on vocabulary, verb conjugation and conversational skills. There is absolutely no hiding when there are only three of you. The amazing thing is when they are asking a question of one of the other two, I always have the answer in my head, and I can't wait to blurt it out to save the poor guy who is fumbling and stumbling to find the correct word or phrase (poor insignificant fool!). Of course, once the instructor turns to me and asks me to speak in Pashto, that knowledge that I had in my head seeps out of my ears unexpectedly and I find myself fumbling and stumbling for the answer (becoming a poor, insignificant fool) while my two classmates stand ready to pounce on the answer at any sign of weakness or hesitation from me. It is amazing how that 50 percent switch becomes activated. Fifty percent of your knowledge seems to disappear the moment you are under the gun.
Some of the audio lessons we have in class and for homework, require us to listen to native speakers conversations and pick out the significant information in the dialogue. This has been the most difficult part for me, and without a doubt the most important skill I need to pick up. I have been doing great with the reading and writing portion of the lessons, but I am not going over there to read the newspaper. Trying to separate the important information from a stream of words that come at a lightning quick pace is daunting. Some lessons I have had to listen to the sentence twenty or more times to figure out what they are saying. I can see myself over there trying to converse and repeating over and over "Huh? Say again? What? Could you repeat?" That would not be pretty. Of course I have never been good with this. I remember sitting in the lobby of a hotel in Dallas, Texas when I was eleven year old. Dad was attending a convention and he turned it into a vacation for the family. As luck would have it, the Chicago White Sox were in town to play the Texas Rangers. We had gone to see the game the night before since my favorite player, Richie Allen was playing for the White Sox that year. So, as I am sitting in the lobby, with my White Sox ballcap on, two hispanic gentlemen sat down next to me and started to talk to me. This poor guy kept asking me a question but for the life of me I couldn't understand him. I was terribly nervous, so the fifty percent switch was in full activation and I finally asked him "how old am I ?" trying to figure out what he was saying. He finally slowed it down to my level and I was able to grasp that he was just asking how I was doing. Years later I am no better...scary.
On a completely different note, the man who was talking to me was an infielder for the White Sox named Luis Alvarado. After getting through the introductions I had a short conversation with him and got his autograph before scurrying off to find my family. I just googled Luis and sadly, he passed away nine years ago at the age of 52. That year with the White Sox was his best year in the majors.
Alright, back to the point. This language training is exhausting, yet I am having a great time. I enjoy coming in every day and learning something new. I revel in the challenge that it brings me and I have set high goals for myself. My brother is always telling me that learning a language has been known to fight off the possibility of Alzheimers which is definitely another significant benefit to this whole evolution. Three months to go!
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Why I Do What I Do
Why do I do what I do? Excellent question. A question that I continue to ponder on a daily basis as I attempt to determine if I am doing the right thing. Two months ago I was riding a bus into Seattle every day. I worked in a corner office with a spectacular view of the Space Needle and I was surrounded by an amazing group of professionals. When I arrived home in the evening I would open the door just long enough for the dogs to come out and greet me with the unconditional love only a devoted dog can truly give. We would go out in the front yard and play for a few moments before taking it inside for well deserved dog biscuits (only the dogs would partake...I usually refrained from having one myself). If I forgot the dogs (Ginger and Mac) would remind me with an enthusiastic, prodding yet respectful bark. Soon after I would sit down to dinner with Midori and Sean every night, which has always been my favorite time of the day. Without fail we would linger around the table long after the meal was over, and discuss the events of the day or just talk about stupid stuff that made us laugh. On those special occasions when Sara and Bob were home life was virtually perfect. Having everyone home always brought a feeling that all was right with the world and that I truly had everything.
So here I sit, in a basement apartment in Arlington, VA a geographic bachelor 3000 miles from home learning a language that is 49th on the list of most common languages. I will spend my 50th birthday at a National Guard base in Indiana learning how not to shoot myself in the foot and building a team to take to the war. In June I will be heading to Afghanistan to lead a Provincial Reconstruction Team for a nine month deployment. I didn't have to take this route. In February I will have 30 years active duty. My options were open...retire, stay in and take a less demanding position out of harm's way and much closer to home or take an interesting staff job in some exotic location. Instead I chose to put myself and my family through a couple of years of uncertainty and separation. Why do I do what I do?
With anything, it's complicated, and I certainly did not enter in to the decision lightly. There are a myriad of factors that went into it. Some thoughts on a few:
1) The need to do my part. Although I have been in the Navy for thirty years, I still feel like it is important to be involved in the fight. When I was working in Seattle, I would walk down the street in my uniform, and occasionally someone would thank me for my service. I always felt a little guilty, wanting to tell them "Don't thank me, I have a corner office with a view of the Space Needle. I'm not doing anything special." We continue to send our young men and women of America to war, and perhaps they need someone to go with them, provide them leadership and guidance, and ensure they get home safely.
2) The need to inspire my children. I never feel as though I am doing enough to lead my children down the path of life. I think back to my Dad, a man of few words but with a work ethic that I could never aspire to match. He didn't have to say much, but he set an example for me that I have always aspired to. I want to do the same for my kids regardless of their age. What example am I setting? Not sure...service, commitment, leadership, work ethic...who knows. Still it is important to strive to be that example and although I have fallen short mightily throughout the years, I will never give up on this incredibly important responsibility.
3) The need to stay competitive. If I am going to stick around I need to continue to be relevant. Often, when someone leaves a command tour, they end up on a staff, sitting in a cubicle creating powerpoint presentations...no way. If I am going to stick around I want to lead. To be competitive, it is important to take the hard job. At the same time, if I do not get promoted, what a great job I will have, providing me the opportunity to have an important and rewarding position leading young soldiers and Sailors in a tough environment.
4) I'm not ready to leave the Navy. I look at the options available to me on the outside and nothing appeals to me...perhaps down the road I will get into teaching, but for now I am still having fun and I still get excited about the opportunities that are available to me in the Navy. I just can't see myself doing anything else at this point.
So, why do I do what I do? I sometimes wonder if I am selfish...that certainly is possible. Perhaps the honorable thing to do would be to stay closer to home and not be a long distance father, husband and son so that my family does not have to go through the anxiety and uncertainty that comes with this assignment. To answer I guess I would look to the four points above and state the unfortunate truth that with service comes sacrifice. With every American who has gone to war, there was a family that was there with them, in spirit, support and sacrifice. Hopefully we will all come out better as we all take part in the process. I hope I am right...
So here I sit, in a basement apartment in Arlington, VA a geographic bachelor 3000 miles from home learning a language that is 49th on the list of most common languages. I will spend my 50th birthday at a National Guard base in Indiana learning how not to shoot myself in the foot and building a team to take to the war. In June I will be heading to Afghanistan to lead a Provincial Reconstruction Team for a nine month deployment. I didn't have to take this route. In February I will have 30 years active duty. My options were open...retire, stay in and take a less demanding position out of harm's way and much closer to home or take an interesting staff job in some exotic location. Instead I chose to put myself and my family through a couple of years of uncertainty and separation. Why do I do what I do?
With anything, it's complicated, and I certainly did not enter in to the decision lightly. There are a myriad of factors that went into it. Some thoughts on a few:
1) The need to do my part. Although I have been in the Navy for thirty years, I still feel like it is important to be involved in the fight. When I was working in Seattle, I would walk down the street in my uniform, and occasionally someone would thank me for my service. I always felt a little guilty, wanting to tell them "Don't thank me, I have a corner office with a view of the Space Needle. I'm not doing anything special." We continue to send our young men and women of America to war, and perhaps they need someone to go with them, provide them leadership and guidance, and ensure they get home safely.
2) The need to inspire my children. I never feel as though I am doing enough to lead my children down the path of life. I think back to my Dad, a man of few words but with a work ethic that I could never aspire to match. He didn't have to say much, but he set an example for me that I have always aspired to. I want to do the same for my kids regardless of their age. What example am I setting? Not sure...service, commitment, leadership, work ethic...who knows. Still it is important to strive to be that example and although I have fallen short mightily throughout the years, I will never give up on this incredibly important responsibility.
3) The need to stay competitive. If I am going to stick around I need to continue to be relevant. Often, when someone leaves a command tour, they end up on a staff, sitting in a cubicle creating powerpoint presentations...no way. If I am going to stick around I want to lead. To be competitive, it is important to take the hard job. At the same time, if I do not get promoted, what a great job I will have, providing me the opportunity to have an important and rewarding position leading young soldiers and Sailors in a tough environment.
4) I'm not ready to leave the Navy. I look at the options available to me on the outside and nothing appeals to me...perhaps down the road I will get into teaching, but for now I am still having fun and I still get excited about the opportunities that are available to me in the Navy. I just can't see myself doing anything else at this point.
So, why do I do what I do? I sometimes wonder if I am selfish...that certainly is possible. Perhaps the honorable thing to do would be to stay closer to home and not be a long distance father, husband and son so that my family does not have to go through the anxiety and uncertainty that comes with this assignment. To answer I guess I would look to the four points above and state the unfortunate truth that with service comes sacrifice. With every American who has gone to war, there was a family that was there with them, in spirit, support and sacrifice. Hopefully we will all come out better as we all take part in the process. I hope I am right...
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