My Friend Todd

0900 September 9, 2010-  I sat there in the tactical operations center of Dog Company and mulled over the task list for the day as our morning meeting came to a close.  I walked over to the mIRC chat computer, an aol instant messenger type system that allows different tactical operating centers to talk to each other without clogging up the radio.  Stewie, a 2009 USMA grad and our fires officer, was manning it and I asked like every morning, "Anything crazy going on Stewie?"  He mulled over a couple of the chat screens, scanning for any contact messages, and saw one, "Oh man, dismounted IED up the ARV (Arghandab River Valley), initial report says triple amp (amputee) but the 9 line is kinda weird so im not sure whats going on, no name given."  I said, "Damn man, alright."  I had been up most of the night planning for our next mission and visiting some of my soldiers on guard duty.  I walked back to my tent and fell right to sleep.

Noon, I get shaken awake and tackle the person shaking me.  It was a fellow platoon leader, but in country your always kinda on edge.  I said, "Damn man, you scared the shit out of me."  He said, "Hey man you have to go to the TOC (tactical operations center)."  The TOC was a good 7 minute walk from my tent and at 115 degrees outside one I didn't want to make.  I said, "Shut up Dude, what do they need."  He repeated, "Man just go to the TOC please."  This time I caught his drift, wiped the sleep from my eyes and said, "Woah no, whats going on."  He said, "Look man, just go to the TOC, Bryson needs to talk to you."  I said, "Fuck that just tell me."  After arguing back and forth about him not wanting to and me insisting he finally came out with it, "That triple amputee this morning, he didn't make it."  I said, "Ok."  He said, "It was Todd."

I got in the cab and was immediately asked, "Where to buddy?"  I replied, "Arlington Cemetery sir."  The cab driver shook his head and began to pull away from the hotel.  My mind wondered as I looked out the window, it shifted in and out of so many things.  Sadness, fear, anger, sadness again.  Not entirely sure of how I was going to handle the preceding events.  I got dropped off and walked into the gates of the cemetery.  I felt my knees buckle a little bit as I stopped and looked across the massive site of so many heroes final resting place.  I could feel my eyes begin to well, but quickly wiped my eyes, put my sunglasses on and moved out.  I went into the main office and approached the help desk. "Ma'am, I am looking for a grave site."  She asked for the name, relative date, and operation name.  I provided her all.  She then marked a map, and wrote down a number for me.  I thanked her and left the lobby.  

I got out to the road, looked at the map and set off. At several points the walking path ended and I was left with a decision, do I walk on the road or the grass. I did not know the proper cemetery etiquette.  I remember being upset with myself that this was even something that required a second thought.  "Of course you walk on the road idiot, you didn't earn the right to be on their grass just to get from point A to point B."  I quickly stepped on the road and continued my journey.

When I got to Todd's final resting spot, I finally allowed myself to emotionally breakdown.  I put my hand on top of the stone and cried.  A family of 5 walked past me, saying nothing, just understanding the situation.  it was the first time I had really cried since I was injured almost nine months prior.  I had pent up so much emotional sadness and it was all coming out of me now.  I was heartbroken because Emma had lost her husband, Kiley had lost her father, his parents had lost their son, siblings and relatives lost a brother or cousin.  I was heartbroken for his Soldiers who all Loved him and I knew they did because I saw it in their eyes the day I drove up for Todd's in country memorial, they had lost their leader.  I thought of Bryson and Jacob whom the four of us had been platoon leaders together and been through so much, we describe our bonds much deeper than the normal working force, so we too had lost our brother.  

I sat down, but continued to hold the stone as if it were an extension of Todd himself.  As I sat I thought, "Why? Why Todd and not me?  I don't have a wife or girlfriend, I don't have a daughter or son who needs me.  This isn't fair, it should have been me not Todd." I sunk my head, and only hoped that one day I could become half of the person that Todd was.  

I walked out onto the central loading area of 2-502, 101st infantry.  Thirty of us had gathered there, inevitably getting ready for the short bus ride over to the airfield where we would get on a plane and take off for afghanistan. I walked with my Mom and we tried to talk about anything other than what was about to happen.  It was a cloudy day yet my mom never removed the sunglasses from her eyes.  I stood there with my Mom waiting to get the word that we were leaving.  My Mom began to cry and she said, "Oh look at that adorable baby, thats so sad."  I turned and saw Todd, Kiley and Emma having there final embrace.  An all-american man, who feared nothing other than god, was an amazing husband and father, and hands down the best leader and mentor I experienced in the Army.  We worked together, we drank together, we laughed together, and we spoke deeply about very important issues. As I sit here two years after the passing of my friend, I am amazed by many things.  First and foremost, the unbelievable strength and courage of his wife Emma, whom everyday lives and breathes courage that I have yet to see matched on or off the battlefield. Second, his adorable daughter Kiley, who attended her first day of pre-school this week.  Third, for the emotions of Todd's friends on today.  Todd was such an amazing individual that two years after the fact it is impossible to forget the quality of soldier, man, father and husband he was.  

1LT Todd Weaver, KIA 09SEP10, 2ND BTN 502ND INF REG, 101ST AIRBORNE

"No more bleeding no more fight
No prayers pleading through the night
just divine embrace, eternal light
in the mansions of the Lord"

Love you Todd and miss you - KS

A Night in the life of a Soldier at Home

I have gone back and forth considering weather to post this or leave it for another time.  I think it has serious value towards understanding what it is that War can do to the brain.  I am worried that some of my recent contacts at school may read this and judge me or not fully understand the basis for which this comes from.  Nevertheless, I feel as though it should be shared and hopefully it will not lend me to the label of abnormal.


I sit down to dinner in my two bedroom apartment on the Charles and attempt to contemplate what has occurred over the past day.  I play back nearly every interaction, missed interaction, and predominately the failed interactions.  I flip on the TV and go to ESPN to get 15-20 minutes of zen before I decide to go lay down for bed.  I walk to the guest bedroom first, windows locked?..check, I walk to the kitchen, windows locked? check, I walk to the front door, locked?...check, I walk to the living room, windows locked?...check, I walk into my own bedroom, windows locked? Check.  I really enjoy my two bedroom apartment by myself.  I tell others I live by myself because the Army still pays for my stipend on housing, which is partly true, but as I go to bed I recognize in my mind that I am not being truly honest by leaving it just at that.  The fear of being judged, well let me start again, the fear of being judged negatively haunts me.  And as I finally lay down I see the walking cane laying in the corner of my room.  It has sat there lifeless for the past three weeks, not allowed to participate in my daily life for fear of being judged as crippled, weird, or fake.  I know my doctors who performed countless surgeries to save my foot and leg, would be furious at my withdrawal from the mandated support of the walking cane.  As I begin to close my eyes, I think to myself, "Tomorrow, tomorrow I will let my guard down and use the cane as I am suppose to."  I then drift off.

Bang! A shot rings out over my head.  "Gun team move!"  We are getting shot at and its very close.  "Move 1st squad up the right flank, 2nd squad hold for now."  I do a self assessment, my weapon, where is my weapon? Holy Shit I don't have a weapon.  I run around looking for it, where is my rifle?  I look everywhere on the ground, as I look up I am face to face with an enemy fighter...Bang!

I sit up in bed immediately.  I am sweating, my hands are clinched and my mind is racing.  I am on high alert, I look and listen for any movement....none.  I realize now it was a dream, a reoccurring dream I have had for two years.  I then turn to look at the clock, as I turn I pray that hours, or maybe even the whole night had gone by before this dream.  As I turn I come face to face with my clock....30 minutes have passed since I fell asleep.

I pull myself up out of bed, as I have everytime this occurs for the past two years.  I open the door to my bedroom and begin my preparation for bed process all over again.  I walk to the guest bedroom first, windows locked?..check, I walk to the kitchen, windows locked? check, I walk to the front door, locked?...check, I walk to the living room, windows locked?...check, I walk into my own bedroom, windows locked? Check.  I lay back down again, my cane staring at me, and I fall back asleep.

"Ok boys, no one move.  Just got some intel that the path were about to be on is highly laced with IED's (improvised explosive devices).  Lets get the mine detectors up front, get in a file and move out due northeast."  I take note that the men look tired, scared, and dejected.  I can feel the heat on my skin as the afghan sun beats down on us.  We begin moving and I can feel by body come to a more relaxed state as our movement is unimpeded.  For a moment I am at ease.  Right foot in front of left, stay in the path of the man in front of you.  It was not an uncommon practice.  I put my right foot out in front of me, and I feel the pressure plate of the IED as it sinks beneath my foot....Explosion.

I sit up in bed shaking.  I reach down and feel my right leg just to make sure it is still there.  I again realize the dream I have just had.  I look towards the clock.  Luckily this time I had slept for another hour and a half before this episode.  I pick myself up out of my bed and repeat my process. I walk to the guest bedroom first, windows locked?..check, I walk to the kitchen, windows locked? check, I walk to the front door, locked?...check, I walk to the living room, windows locked?...check, I walk into my own bedroom, windows locked? Check.

This is where the worst part of the night starts.  I consciously know I need to go back to sleep, but my subconscious has no interest in sleeping anymore.  I fight in and out of being awake and half asleep.  One second im fully conscious looking right at the clock, the next drifting off.  I think, "No, don't fall asleep, you know how this ends."  But I drift off, then come to, drift off, then come to.  This process continues for a long time.  My body never feeling at ease until the sun crests the horizon.

I get up out of bed now, tired but not any different than I usually feel from my interrupted sleep cycle.  I get ready for school and as I walk out I look at my cane.  "Nope, sorry not today."  I walk out of my apartment and head to class.




***I almost never write extra things after my last lines unless I find it appropriate, however for this again my fear of judgement within a new community that may read this leads me to explain a few things that may not be explicitly inferred.  First off, there is no rationality behind a lot of the things I do while fighting sleep.  I gladly understand that and accept it.  Maybe to say it differently, I know a lot of my fears and anxieties are irrational, which makes them more frustrating.  Also, I will add, this does not occur everynight, I wouldnt even put it in the frequent category.  But it does occur and its not in the seldom category.  The main goal of this piece is explaining to people the behind the scenes portion of war and what it does to people.  Its not pretty, its not sexy, it is often weird and concerning.  But this is the life that I live, this is the life that many of us live behind close doors.*****

Thank you for reading.

The Child that showed no pain

I walked across the southern wall of our compound.  Giant "Hesco" barriers between myself and the impoverished countryside of Howz-E-Madad.  Ten feet high, and atleast five feet thick, these giant sand bags gave me some semblance of security and safety from the dangers that imminently lay outside the dirt walls.  My platoon had drawn guard duty this Mid-July day and I was walking the perimeter checking on my Soldiers morale.  The routine was quite normal and one I had gotten used to.  I would walk from one tower to the next, climb the 5-10 steps up into the wooden elevated tower and speak with my Soldiers.  Conversations usually centered around food, girlfriends, current sports events, and occasionally when standards were not being met we would have a brief word about eye protection or glove protection within the towers.  I attempted to ask few questions and listen to what my Soldiers. had to say.  Often their responses were sarcastic and pessimistic, hey if you had to sit in a tower for twelve straight hours and see literally nothing what would you want to talk about?

As I walked to the ECP (entrance control point), an access area where all vehicles entered and exited, as well as the bases most vulnerable/dangerous point, I wondered what my friends back home had done for the World Cup final the previous days.  Surely they had gathered around a tv, with adult beverages, not caring about the game but just enjoying the company. As I approached the gate I heard the radio blare out in my right ear piece, "1-6, this is ECP."  I shot back, "ECP, 1-6 go ahead."  "Hey yeah, um, Sir, we have an issue here at the gate, you should come up here." I was puzzled by this, I put my best soldiers on the ECP since it was a vulnerable point, and very little rattled them.  Weeks earlier I was checking on them and we came under mortar and direct arms attack in the tower.  These Soldiers were the real deal, with very little encouragement they returned fire and engaged with every weapon system we had.  I had it easy, I sat with my binoculars and spotted their rounds as I walked our heavy machine gun in and eliminated the under armed and less talented enemy.  But, something at the gate had rattled them, I was now worried.

The vision that occurs next is forever seared in my brain.  15 meters from the gate: Ok, 3 local nationals and some type of wheel barrel looking thing.  10 meters from the gate: Holy shit thats a lot of blood.  5 meters from the gate: Oh my god there is a child in that wheel barrel.  At the scene:  there is an ten year old boy in the wheel barrel.  My medic jumped into action and began tourniqueting every limb we could get a tourniquet on.  The older locals with him were screaming and yelling at our Soldiers.  It didn't matter what language they were speaking, the message was clear, "Do something, save him," they screamed in Pashto.  The wheel barrel was atleast two inches full of bright red blood and the implications of this event were beginning to come clear.  I looked at the child as we worked to keep his heart beating until the helicopter could come to take him to a hospital.  Not once, not for a single instance did he show any sign of pain, of discomfort, no tears were shed.  He just stared at my medic, at me, at the sky.  Seemingly unfazed by the position he was in.  It struck me so hard.  Growing up in a society where when a child skins his or her knee instant whaling occurs.  This child was just blown up by an IED, probably because his father had commanded him to go implace it and it went off in his hands.  Or while playing a game with friends he had managed to stumble onto a deadly pressure plate laid 2 inches under the dirt path.

I sat in the auditorium in the basement of Spangler hall.  I sat in the back of the room, the very back to be precise.  My fear of open spaces and exits still sticks somewhat with me today.  I showed up 15 minutes early and managed to find some former Army and Marine classmates amongst the 10 of us that were early.  I watched as my classmates entered the auditorium of one of the top Business Schools in the world ( I would say the top one, but I have an obvious bias there).  The briefing began as many due in the Army:  Where we started, where we are now, and where are we going.  Half way through the speaker brought up a personal vignette that really made service to this institution hit home for her.  She spoke of a business/vacation trip to India.  She recalled seeing people begging along the route from the domestic airport and witnessed mothers holding children who were purposefully deformed in order to gain better profits from begging.  She then said, and I am paraphrasing so take the quotes with a grain of salt, "I can think of no greater love then a Mom for her children and to see that this is how desperate she was was eye opening."  She then concluded that she drives herself every day to mentor business students in order to positively effect the nature of the world at large.

I spoke with several classmates that night about the speech.  Most found it to be incredibly inspirational and uplifting.  I say most and I must add the actual nature that, everyone found it to be inspirational and uplifting.  Being authentic I have to be honest it did not effect me.  Then I spent time throughout the weekend reflecting on why a story like hers would not effect me.  I was ashamed.  Of course a story like that should effect me, thats horrible, a child deformed for profit?  Thats awful.  But, it honestly didn't effect me, it was another story amongst many I had heard about children being abused for the profit of their family.

I started this blog in an attempt to bridge the gap between military and civilian. To share stories, very personal stories, in order to allow people to see into the eyes of me, and thus a perspective of military leaders.  I certainly try not to speak for all military individuals but I do try to give a candid response of how I have felt.  Had I really been so desensitized to the abuse of children that a story like this didn't effect me?  I guess the answer is yes. Thats a scary thought to comprehend as a human being and I have been reflecting on it all weekend.  Before I finish I do want to clarify, just because a story like that does not elicit an emotional response from me, does not mean that I don't feel intense distaste towards anyone that acts that way towards a child.

I asked the elder, "How did this happen?  How did a child get hurt this bad?"  He looked at me and said, "bombs from the sky."  He then pointed at me and said, "You did this, you dropped the bombs form the sky on him."  We had not dropped any bombs that day, we had not had any missions near the area the boy was blown up at, and we had no interaction with the village in which this happened in.  My blood boiled, I clinched my fist, I wanted to punch the elder in the face, throw him to the ground and scold him for treating children so poorly.  For accusing my boys, for accusing my country, for accusing my name...Snook of being part of this atrocity.  But, as an officer in the Army I swore an oath, and I signed on to always complete the mission, and such a hasty angered act would support none.  I shook the elders hand and said, "Sir, im very sorry for your loss, we will look into it and please let us know if you need anything else."  As I transition to the civilian world I can only hope that my emotions come back, and that my desensitization towards issues of such hyaenas nature subsides.

I thank you for reading and hope this helped to see inside the world of our US Military.  Again these are my points of view and do not reflect the policy, tactics, structure or nature of the US Military as a whole.  Thank you.

The Great Debate

"Love being in the Army. But, this debate over Women being able to attend Ranger School and the things I am hearing people say, just another reinforcement of why it is time to step away."

Perhaps I was too ambiguous with my last wall post, so I figured I would fire back up the blog and take this moment to share my perspective (not that my perspective means anything, but it gives you an opinion).  First off, the past year has been difficult, and making the decision to leave the Army was not easy.  The reason it was not easy is because I love serving my country and I love the Army and what it stands for.  I do not believe the Army is becoming worse or in bad shape.  I do believe this issue of Ranger School has exposed some of the underlying issues that still remain in our organization.

Secondly, lets throw out everything that would discredit me from this conversation.  Yes, I failed out of Ranger School.  Yes, I have no tab.  Yes, I am on my way out of the Army.  Ok now that we have gotten that out of the way, I want to share my opinion as a spectator since there is no tab protecting from me as an outsider.  My mother was a 1980 graduate of the United States Military Academy, the first class of females ever admitted.  At the time, students at the school as well as older alumni considered this to be an insult to allow women.  It would taint the very prestige of the University.  It would become too easy.  I will not speak for my mom, but from the stories she has told me students made it a point to ensure that females knew the males opinions of their admittance.  Now, not everyone shared these opinions so we can not stereotype or group it all together.  A male cadet was asked by a local news reporter, "Do you think it's weird that women will be going to school with you at West Point?"  The male cadet responded, "Well I have been going to school with girls all my life, I think it would be weird if there weren't women at school."  That male cadet was my father.  My mother was in the Army for 23 years, and served our country to the fullest.  Many times she was told "You can't do that, you're not strong enough, not cause your weak, but because you are a female."

Well guess what, West Point still exists, it still ranks in the top 5 every year on the Forbes College list and I think we are still producing quality leaders committed to serving the nation.  Since this debate over Ranger school has started, I have been exposed to how naive I am to all this.  Sure I knew guys joked about the lack of ability in woman soldiers, but I thought the respect level was still there.  And it is, on the surface, but scratch one level down and hit that nerve and out comes the truth.  "Females are incapable", "No female could ever pass a Ranger PT test, they're just not strong enough."  "Females can't do it, how would they do hygiene." "Can you believe it, the Army has gone to shit now." Just to share a few wall posts I have read. This sounds familiar, "They are too dumb to go to white schools," "They are too unhealthy to use our water fountains or our bathrooms."  You may think that's a stretch, but re-read the comments and I believe there is a connection. Ahh, but this is not the issue here.  It is an assumption, but people complaining about this deeply believe that women are second class citizens in this country.  They belong in the kitchen, they should take care of the kids, (insert stereotypical comment).  There is only one thing that promotes these comments in history...fear.  Fear of competition, fear of losing your spot at the top.  It is a lot more comfortable knowing someone is considered lower on the food chain. People may hide behind comments about prestige but it is the fear of equality that drives this. Several times in history people have found themselves on the wrong side of issues like this, and it most definitely was the individuals who viewed anyone as "second class".

Here is the second resounding argument I have heard, "There is no way that Females will be held to the same standard, it just won't be enforced."  The Soldiers that run ranger school are E-6 and above, and CPT and above.  They are proven combat leaders and have been chosen by the Army based on their ability to uphold the standard and lead.  You may not believe all that, but that is how it is stated.  Now if we honestly think these leaders will not enforce the standard, then we have a much larger issue in the Army.  That is an insult to all proven leaders in the Army and to all Ranger Instructors. So we prevent females from going because the raters will not enforce the standard.  Don't hold that against the females, hold it against the raters.  I know several individuals who are RI's and I can assure you the ones I know are great leaders and will uphold the standard.

There are a million counterarguments to this and I would be glad to hear them.  Please feel free to post below and we can talk.  I will leave with this.  Allowing females to enter Ranger school is one step of many towards the equality of females in the service.  If this makes you cringe, than wait for when females are allowed to enter combat arms, if you have a problem with that perhaps you should start preparing now because it is coming.  The biggest tragedy of this whole situation is not the perceived "Army getting soft" or "Ranger school losing its prestige", the biggest tragedy is our Army still needs to grow up and accept that certain women can do any job that a man can do.  Hey, its my opinion, perhaps history has shown which side of this debate lands on correct.  Thank you for reading.

Somethings Missing

I think all of us at some point in our lives, if not multiple times, have thought "Man I think somethings missing, I just don't know what it is." Aside from the obvious jokes revolving around John Mayer, this emotion is both common and frustrating.  The never ending thought process in the shape of a figure eight can be mind numbing.  The cliche question always arises, "What is the meaning of life" and the answer may lie in finding what is missing.  I have found in the past year an emptiness that I had not experienced in my life up until this point.  A line from the movie Blow I think adequately describes this emotion, "It's always the last day of summer and i've been left out in the cold with no door to get back in." I am not shy about the fact that depression has certainly been an ugly underlying battle that I have struggled with over the past year.  Initially the frustration centered around things of physical limitations due to my foot.  Being a grown man and having my father lift me in and out of the shower daily gets old after a while.  My mother drove me everywhere for five months because I could not drive.  I essentially became 14 years old again, and the transition from being a combat leader to a Man who could not get out of bed on his own was crushing, or so I thought.

Around late January I was finally able to somewhat live my life on my own.  This is when the mental aspects of my injury began to surface.  An interesting thing to note, if you ever know someone that has suffered a major physical injury there healing continues long after the body has mended itself.  Doctors often say that the body initially focuses on the physical ailment and the mental scars get ignored until the body heals itself.  I want to be clear before I share the remainder of this blog, what I am about to talk about is not meant to insult, hurt or offend anyone.  It is merely about awareness and how actions or lack of actions can cause pain.

Lesson 1- Later rather than sooner

The outpouring of support immediately following my injury was enormous and humbling. I received over  150 facebook messages in the first 24 hours after being injured.  I was brought to tears realizing how many people were worried and praying for me.  Eventually as one month led to two, the outreach stopped.  Now I will say, there is a select group of 10 or so people who never left my side and still constantly message me and email me, these people are my real friends.  I certainly do not hold it against the individuals that "checked the box" after my injury, but I will say this.  Sometimes the most powerful message you can send to someone in need is sent later rather than sooner.

Lesson 2- My empty wall

I moved into my apartment in May of 2011.  I began decorating the living room with my sports memorabilia and family pictures.  When you leave a Battalion in the Army they send you what is called "Colors".  It is essentially a plaque with the Battalion Flag and an inscription describing your service. I looked at a spot on the wall and said, "Wow that would be a great place for my Battalion Colors."  I had not yet received my plaque, even though I had been promised it in February, but I was assured it was coming soon.  Life went on and everyday like a little kid I came home from work and swung the door open to my apartment complex hoping my Battalion Colors would be there.  And everyday I was met with an empty floor and disappointment.  This disappointment was only amplified when I opened the door to my actual apartment and the empty wall stared me right in the face.  It angered me, "What the fuck?  How hard is it to mail something to a soldier that was wounded in your unit?  You promised me this 5 months ago, guess you guys dont give a shit."  The anger would progress to sadness, "What does this say about me?  They must have thought I was a piece of shit.  Surely if I was a great leader my unit would have sent this to me right away.  I must suck."  Unfortunately in my brain sadness always beats anger, and I was left feeling empty and alone in my one bedroom apartment staring at my empty wall.  Here is my lesson I would like to impart with this story, this is not just about the Army, if you promise something to someone...deliver it.  And if you cant deliver on that promise, have the dignity to both apologize and come up with a way to rectify the issue at hand.   The depression and pain that that empty wall caused me was way larger than the effort it would have taken to spend 5 minutes at the post office to mail the damn thing.

Story 3-  Leaders need to be cared about too

The Army has a motto of "Take care of Soldiers".  Last time I checked leaders are soldiers too.  Unfortunately in my experiences, the Army is very good of taking care of Soldiers up to the rank of E-5. Once you are an E-5 or above you do not need to be cared for, you are able to care for yourself.  This is both irrational and sickening.  I was injured on September 26, 2010.  I was the first officer in my Battalion injured, and would be until my friend Larkin was injured on or about New Years Day.  The first personal message I received from my Battalion Commander was on July 27, 2011.  Almost a full year after the incident and he finally had the time to email me.   I want to describe briefly what this feels like.  When you are in combat you become closer to your Soldiers then anyone or anything ever in your life.  The bond you share is like super glue.  Imagine you spend every minute of everyday with your closest friend, your closest family member, and in an instant you are removed and cant not see them for 10 months.  This is the feeling of being injured and taken out of country.  This is an extremely tough transition.  As Leaders we have an obligation to take care of our injured Soldiers.  About two months after my injury my internal thought process began again with anger, "I have not heard from my Battalion Commander or my Company Commander in a month, what the fuck?  We preach before every deployment that if you have a Soldier injured you would still check up on them to make sure they were ok, why do we not practice what we preach?"  Again sadness interrupted my thought process, "They must think I was an awful leader, surely if I was good at what I did and well liked, they would be contacting me and making sure I was ok.  Man I bet they are happy that I am gone now 'shit, now we don't have to deal with that guy'.  My life has lost purpose and value to the people I value the most."  This my friends is the ugly nature of depression.  Do I think my BC and CO royally dropped the ball?  Yes.  Do I believe they thought lowly of me?  Logically I would think no, but depression defies logic.  I want to be clear I love my CO and I would do anything for him.  He was the best leader I had witnessed in the Army.  Did he mess up?  I believe so.  Do I hold it against him? Maybe a little.  Have I in my heart forgiven him?  Absolutely.  My BC is a whole different story that I will not go into.  This lesson can be valuable at any institution, taking care of your employees or Soldiers does not cease at the lowest levels, everyone needs to be cared for in an organization.  The difference that an email or phone call would have made in my life can not be adequately described.

I face an interesting dilemma in my life at this point. I am in a unique position to either stay in the Army or walk away from the profession I worked over 4 years to enter.  What I will do is not chosen yet, however this last year has certainly not added a pretty bow on the Army experience.  So as I sit here tonight, rambling on, I am left again completely unsure of what is missing in my life.  Its for sure missing, maybe, hopefully, it will be found soon for the search has become exhausting and long.

I thank you for reading and taking time out of your busy schedules.

Walk or Drive?

Recently my friend Mike from Concord, asked if I would do a small write up about leadership in the military for his quarterly news letter at Sharp Tool Company.  I thought after writing it that I would share it with everyone.  Enjoy.

As I walked through the gates of Arlington National Cemetery I was struck with the absolute immensity of the hollowed grounds that lay before me.  As far as my eyes could stretch lay the final resting place of so many American Heroes, Presidents, Soldiers, and my best friend.   I walked into the main office where a polite lady asked me, “Specific grave site?”  I replied, “Yes, 1LT Todd Weaver, KIA 09 September 2010.”  She shuffled through papers and eventually found the grave site.  She then asked, “Are you going to walk or drive to the site?”  The statement befuddled me.  Walk or drive?  I hadn’t even considered that the site was so far away that I may have to drive.  And with my disabled right foot, perhaps driving was the best option.  I paused for a second and replied, “Walking.”

I have been an officer in the United States Army for almost four years now.  I was deployed and injured in Southern Afghanistan almost a year ago now.  Leadership and organizational change are huge tenants of being an Army Officer.  In the Army, as with most organizations, we have core values in which all Soldiers subscribe to.  Specifically we have seven core values: Loyalty, Duty, Respect, Selfless Service, Honor, Integrity and Personal courage.  All the core values put together both literally and figuratively spell out LDRSHIP.  As with any organization the extent to which our employees embody these values leads to either a smooth and efficient work place, or an inevitable failure. 

As I walked out of the front office my mind was racing.  “How could anyone drive on such honored ground?  How could I look at myself in the mirror if I drove past all these honorable heroes just to get to my friends final resting place?”  My right foot had been severely mangled by an Improvise Explosive Device in September and this walk would be the furthest I had walked since being injured.  Down Patton Street, left on Eisenhower, the street names of countless American Heroes droned on and I thought of my organizations core values, L D R S H I P.  I was proud that I was walking, as it was inevitably the right choice, even though driving would have been easier.

Organizations will continue to live, breath and move.  Employees will enter and exit over the years.  Core values will certainly change based on goals, motivation, and the company’s mission. But, in the heart of every employee there will be a time, perhaps multiple, where you are posed with the metaphorical question “Walk or Drive?”  Which way are you committed to acting?

Job Offering

Recently I have been paying attention to the news a little bit more.  I have seen the riots on the streets in most of our major cities and the "Walks on Wall Street".  I know a major issue brought up is unemployment and growing loan rates that seem to smother our average working citizen or recent college graduate.  Well have no fear, I am here to give you a job description and hook you up.

Requirements:  You must be above the age of 18, 17 if you are given a waiver from a parental guardian.  If you have a college degree you qualify for a higher starting salary and higher position of authority.  You could possibly start with as many as 30 individuals underneath you.  You must meet specific weight requirements that essentially define that you are not obese. You must be under the age of 40, but again a waiver can be drawn up if it is deemed that you are healthy.  There is no disqualification for prior felony charges, gang relation, or any other major mishap in your life prior.

Benefits:  Your starting salary will not be too large.  This is no 60,000 dollar organization off of the bat.  However, almost all individuals will qualify for retrograde college assistance (aka we will give you a lump sum to pay back a portion, if not all of your college loan debts).  You and anyone in your immediate family will be covered 100% medically, be that dental and regular.  You will receive a housing allowance based on your rank, or housing will be provided for you.  You will no longer have to live at home with your family.  In fact for those that complain that they still have to live at home with your family, we actually can almost guarantee up to a year away from your family at certain points.  You may be able to live abroad as well.  We have sites in Italy, Denmark, Germany, and Japan just to name a few.  If you decide to stay with our organization for a long period of time we will pay for your graduate degree and pay you full time duty pay while you are at graduate school.

Warnings:  There is a slight chance that you may be hurt or experience hardships while working with our organization.  There may be some long nights and early days.  Your mind and body may be exposed to abuse that we intend just to toughen you up for better service within our organization.

I am sure you are aware that I am talking about military service.  I find it funny that the jobs people tend to say they "respect" are inherently the ones they do not want to do.  This past year while I was injured I got to spend four months living with my parents, and it was some of the best times of my life.  I have understanding, but minimal sympathy for the complaints on college loans and debt.  I have minimal sympathy for those that have been crushed by the job market.  Ahh, no one was complaining about our free enterprise when it was booming and the job market was great.  Well, the ideals of free enterprise have not changed, we are just merely upset that some of us have been left out in the cold as of late.  Well come on into military service, the fire is nice, the benefits are great, but enter at your own risk.

This in no way shape or form intended to insult anyone, just a mere observation.