Saturday, October 16, 2004

Conversations With Otis

I have been very fortunate during my time here to have made a friend with whom I have much in common: we are both twice passed over majors who were sent here involuntarily (yes, some people volunteer to come here); we have been Marine for almost exactly the same amount of time and have been promoted (and passed over) on exactly the same dates; we have many common friends and acquaintances; and we both enjoy complaining about being here and the Marine Corps in general. As someone once said, “a Marine’s not happy unless he’s complaining.”

In my personal spiritual evolution over the past few years, I have come to realize how important the sharing of personal stories is both to our understanding of ourselves and our appreciation of other people. My friend Otis and I have had many very enjoyable conversations walking to and from the chow hall or waiting for “the word” over the past few days. In telling my stories to him, I gain insight and understanding of myself, relive past experiences (both positive and negative), and see these experiences and my reactions to them in new ways. In listening to his stories, I vicariously share his experiences, wonder how I would have reacted in the same situations, and gain appreciation and understanding of who he is on a deeper level.

One thing we talked about which I found very thought-provoking and useful was his story of the Marine Corps as a “what,” not a “who.” The Corps is a machine, a clockwork device made of chains, pulleys, gears, and cogs, grinding along its way. It is designed to operate efficiently and effectively, but due to its flawed inputs (fallible humans) it is often wasteful and ineffective.

Another characteristic of the Marine Corps “machine” is its Cookie Cutter Nature. Cookie Cutter Nature operates on the rule that all Marines of the same grade, time in service, specialty, etc., are the same, and can be used interchangeably as inputs to the machine. Obviously this is not so; humans are all different, regardless of how similar their experiences and backgrounds. Ker-chunk. The cogs grind along, sometimes effectively, sometimes not. Ker-chunk. The machine tries to cut out identical cookies from different batches of dough, often with predictably poor results.

Occasionally, someone will reach down into the machine and pluck another out of the cogs before disaster strikes. This is called “effective leadership.” Personal commitment and caring for fellow humans are at its core. It is rare.

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