The following is an excerpt from R. Lee Ermey’s latest book, Gunny’s Rules: How to Get Squared Away Like a Marine, out November 11 from Regnery.
Immediately, if not sooner, I want you to forget everything you’ve ever heard about so-called “born leaders.” There are no such creatures! They simply don’t exist.
Leadership cannot be taught! I can’t do it, the Sergeant Major of the Marine Corps can’t do it, and instructors at Annapolis, West Point, or the Air Force Academy can’t do it. Leadership is not something one “gets.” It’s something one evolves into.
You heard me. Leaders evolve. Most anyone can grow into a leadership role over time through the lessons they learn from their own successes and failures and by observing how others before them acted and reacted in particular situations. Observing how others lead—or fail to lead—is the absolute best classroom for becoming a true leader yourself.
True leadership is contagious. Its effects move quickly through the ranks when troops see leaders perform and are inspired to emulate them. When a twenty-one-year-old Marine Sergeant is put in charge of a multi-million-dollar helicopter, it’s no accident that he learns how to step into his position by following the examples of leaders he served under.
Leadership is more than a matter of giving orders and being in charge: it is a matter of character, earned respect, doing the right thing, and always giving your best not only for yourself, but for others. You will become, and remain, committed to demonstrating the leadership qualities you’ve observed and admired over time.
Personally, I have seen true leaders in action everywhere from forward firebases in Vietnam to offices in the Pentagon. I have seen them in squads on patrol in jungles, in motor pools at a dozen Marine bases, and in billets crammed full of recruits at San Diego. I have seen them in my movie experiences, working with dedicated directors like Stanley Kubrick and Sidney J. Furie.
But, when I think about it, my first and best role models were always my Marine Corps Drill Instructors, Gunnery Sergeant Freestone, Staff Sergeant Sponenberg, and Sergeant Devorak. I was a screw-off, and they knew it.
They recognized my weaknesses and drove them out of me. They screamed and pushed and drove me like I’d never been driven before — or since.
When I didn’t pay attention during drill, they made me — and those around me — pay with endless push-ups. When I jaw-jacked instead of listening, they got in my face relentlessly. (I can still see the unique shape of each one of their uvulas wagging in the back of their throats.) When I lollygagged on my way getting back into formation after chow, they assigned me step-ups. In fact, I earned so many step-ups that every evening while my fellow recruits were getting ready for the rack, putting an extra shine on their boots, squaring away their foot lockers, or reading letters from home, I was right outside the DI hut trying to work off the step-ups I’d earned. I never did catch up. Hell, I still owe them a few thousand reps!
I learned from each of these men that I could withstand and accomplish and expect more from myself than I’d ever imagined possible. As hard as they were on me, I know it was for a good reason — because they recognized the capacity for more from me.
Leaders must, of course, master fear, but even more important, they must be knowledgeable — they need to know their business, whatever it is, inside and out. When I entered the Marines, I didn’t know much beyond how to take care of a farm (and how to stay out of my father’s way when I caused trouble). And my lack of knowledge showed.
After boot camp, I spent nearly two years — twenty-two months, to be exact — at the rank of Private First Class. For a while, I told myself I didn’t care, and I continued to carry on like the immature young fool I was. But a second go-round with the shore patrol helped me find my way.
During my first tour, while I was on sea duty, I viewed ship time as nothing more than transportation to the next port where I couldn’t wait to get off and find the first bar, get drunk, and pick a fight. Thankfully, though, after a repeat performance or two with shore patrol hauling my sorry butt back to the ship, I landed myself on several months of restriction. It was one of the best things that ever happened to me because it gave me enough time to consider that all that drinking and fighting really wasn’t good for me or my career. So, while I was stranded on deck, I figured, “What the hell,” and spent my time taking a Marine Corps Institute course in Techniques of Military Instruction. It wasn’t long before the skills I’d learned from taking the class were noticed by my superiors, and I was appointed the tactical training person on board ship. A few months on the good-behavior list got me promoted to Lance Corporal.
I’ve always believed that what we imitate is what we naturally become. Though I didn’t know it at the time, when I took that course, I began emulating leaders before me who sought knowledge as the first step to leadership. If you want to be a drug-dealing criminal, you’ll find yourself hanging out with and looking up to drug-dealing criminals to learn how to be one. If you want to be a leader, you’ll naturally surround yourself with people who expect more from you.
And you’ll take advantage of every chance to gain skill in your job, educate yourself, and earn your way to the top. No leader ever emerged from taking a “that’s not my job” attitude, or from shirking hard work, or from not trying to master everything that is required from him.
In the military, leadership principles are tested at the highest standards possible — in combat. When you and your unit go into harm’s way, under fire, not only are you fighting for survival but also to destroy the enemy forces that are trying to destroy you. Failure is unthinkable. You have been equipped and trained to fight, and only under strong leadership will you fight with determination and confidence. If you lose, you die. Without leadership, your unit will fall apart, and all personal and unit efforts will be lost.
You see this principle demonstrated superbly in Full Metal Jacket when Private Cowboy is thrust into command of his unit because of the death of his squad leader. When he and his squad are pinned down behind a wall, lost in a combat zone, he has no idea what to do because he hasn’t learned his job, he lacks knowledge (he can’t even read a map), and he certainly isn’t ready to lead a squad in combat.
Just being in a position of leadership didn’t instantly make him a leader. You have to be prepared in knowledge and character.
In Cowboy’s case, he’d never held a position of leadership in peacetime, let alone in combat. Sometimes, because of circumstances, promotions do come as a surprise. When this happens, it’s usually not the result of a best-case scenario.
Not only do you evolve into leadership, but if you want to expand your leadership potential, you can’t just stop where you are — you have to keep expanding your own knowledge and abilities. This constant striving for self-improvement, important for any leader, might seem daunting, but if you’re smart, you’ll recognize that the way to eat a huge plate of grits is one bite at a time.
Sometimes people look at their leader, and think, “Boy, I wish I were like him. But I could never do that. He’s a natural-born leader. Everybody admires and respects him so much.”
When the troops think that way, they’re not considering the time it took that leader to evolve and achieve the rank or station in life he now occupies. He earned the right to lead; it wasn’t just handed to him. I’ll say it again: leadership requires knowledge, and knowledge is something all of us can acquire if we apply ourselves. He might have started earlier than you did, he might have been squared away faster than you were, but there’s no reason you can’t evolve into a leader as well. I maintain that with hard work and desire, most folks can attain what they set their minds to.