This Is The 'Business We Have Chosen'

How one day a quarter-century ago has shaped my personal and professional perspective ever since

The General finally called us into his office. I was standing with my co-pilot to one side, and then the XO, CO, and Group CO to the other. All of us standing tall at the position of attention in front of The Man. Not a place anyone wants to ever be.

How did I get here? How did I get a Major, Lieutenant Colonel, and bird Colonel in this position, about to all get their asses chewed by a two-star General?

Allow me to rewind a few hours and tell you how the day started...

What a day to fly! The morning fog was clearing over the Southern California coast and blue skies were breaking through. The ready room was alive with activity as pilots from our squadron were conducting their mission briefs for flights to occur later that day. My copilot for the day, another Captain, was senior to me but I was the assigned Aircraft Commander that day and responsible for our fastroping mission with Marines up the coast at Camp Pendleton’s Combat Town. It was the summer of 1999 and I was newly minted Aircraft Commander, just back from my first overseas deployment and eager to continue my progression as a helicopter pilot.

Combat Town is pretty much like what it sounds like; a collection of cinder block structures a few stories tall laid out like a few blocks of typical city used to simulate combat situations. It’s used for Marines to practice maneuvering around streets in an urban area, as well as to practice clearing buildings. For the latter, imagine a three or four story building with enemy combatants in a few different rooms across a few different floors. For our fast roping mission, we would fly at a high speed from a concealed position into Combat Town, execute a quickstop, and come to a hover over the top of the target building. Our Crew Chief would then deploy the fast rope from the center of our helo and the Marines would slide down the rope to the rooftop (bless those Marines for the things the do). Once they were all on the roof we accelerate away and they would conduct their mission to clear the building.

We met the ground unit near Combat Town, conducted our mission brief, and started executing. The first few cycles went well and our quickstops were aggressive but smooth (if I may say so myself). We would approach the target building at a high speed and flare the nose of the aircraft up while reducing power; that bled off airspeed rapidly and then we would come back to a hovering position directly over the top of the building. An observer would say that maneuver, when properly executed, looked a bit unusual and perhaps like something was going wrong as the nose of the helo would be pointed what seemed to be excessively high towards the sky but that was intended and needed to quickly bleed off airspeed. We can agree that I was performing some aggressive quickstops that day. Damn, were they good!

We landed after completing our fourth insertion of the Marines to their rooftop destination to pick them up and start another cycle. At that moment, the radio crackled to life.

“Aircraft operating at Combat Town, identify yourself.”

Huh. I wonder who they are talking to.

I looked around the area and saw no other aircraft anywhere nearby.

Huh. They are talking to me.

I responded with my callsign, “This is Tiger 16.”

“Tiger 16, this is General DeLong. I’ve been watching you. I don’t like what I’ve seen. Come see me as soon as you return to base.”

Oh shit.

Pilots use the term “compartmentalization” to refer to how when in the cockpit you have to block out thoughts about family, finances, your plans for the upcoming weekend, as well as everything else and focus solely on the task at hand. Well, I just had a two-star General and the Wing Commanding General, who happened to be in another aircraft nearby, call me out. I compartmentalized as best I could as we finished the mission, and as we flew back to Miramar couldn’t help wondering what was going to happen when we landed.

It didn’t take long to find out.

“What the hell did you do!” Our squadron Executive Officer (XO) was standing at the entrance to the hangar as we walked back after shutting down on the flight line. That first sentence out of his mouth told me that word traveled fast, he was clearly upset, and the rest of this afternoon was not going to go well. The XO proceeded to tell me he had dispatched a half dozen Lieutenants to scour the base to find our squadron Commanding Officer (CO) so we could all head to the General’s office for a special meeting with him.

We arrived at Wing headquarters a not long after and not only had our squadron CO, a Lieutenant Colonel, arrived but standing there but next to him was our Group CO, a full-bird Colonel, Colonel McNamara.?(Note - a Lieutenant Colonel is sometimes referred to as a 'light Colonel' while the next rank higher, Colonel, is often referred to as a 'bird' Colonel as a means of distinction by using using the ranks' insignia, which looks like an eagle with its head to one side, as a differentiating factor.)

Ooh. This is getting more serious, fast.

There may have been a brief pleasantry or two exchanged between those senior officers, but I must have missed it as we started walking into Wing Headquarters. We were met by the General’s Chief of Staff, who escorted us into an anteroom outside his office.?

As (may bad) luck would have it, the General was occupied with some calls and visitors about a developing issue in real time; there was an F/A-18 circling overhead Miramar with stuck landing gear. Since the gear would not fully deploy to allow for a safe landing, the pilot was preparing to dump fuel to minimize the risk of catastrophic mishap if he ultimately needed to land on the runway without all his gear down and safely locked in place. With this situation rapidly evolving, an ever-growing group was assembling at Wing Headquarters to monitor progress and brief the General.?

The General finally called us into his office. I was standing with my co-pilot to one side, and then the XO, CO, and Group CO to the other. All of us standing tall at the position of attention in front of The Man. Not a place anyone wants to ever be.

How did I get here? How did I get a Major, Lieutenant Colonel, and bird Colonel in this position?

The General started speaking. He was firm in his tone, but it wasn’t quite as bad as I had prepared myself for.?

I may make it out of this okay. Maybe just be grounded for a few days.

As he paced back and forth in front of us, he paused momentarily. Then, his voice grew louder and his tone got stronger. This was no longer a mild scolding…it had turned into a full on ass-chewing in front of what was now a crowd of dozens of other assembled officers in the anteroom just steps away.

It may be a cliche to say an event that lasts a minute or so feels like an eternity, but that doesn't make it any less true in a situation like this. As I stood there for that eternity, with my entire chain of command right next to me, all I could think of was that this was going so badly that the next thing that was going to happen was that he was going to take my wings from me and I’d be spending the rest of my time as a Marine flying a desk.

The General finished his dressing down (and didn't take my wings!) and rapidly dismissed us from this office. We proceeded through the ever larger crowd in the anteroom (that F/A-18 was still circling overhead with a potential mishap brewing) and walked outside. I can only imagine the look on my face; some combination of fear, relief, disbelief, and utter shock at having experienced something most pilots never will.??

Colonel McNamara looked at me as a slight smile grew from the corner of his mouth. “You realize, Captain, what just went on there?”

“No, Sir.”

“He made an example of you. He started somewhat mildly, and his tone changed as he realized there was an audience right outside that could see and hear everything he was saying. See, this Wing has one of the worst safety records in the Marines, and with that F/A-18 issue happening right now there is yet another potential mishap that is going to go on the General’s record. He realized he had an audience of Squadron COs and other officers from across the Wing gathered outside. What better way to make an impression on them than to have them watch a young Captain get his ass chewed. Imagine what they all will report back to their squadrons about what they observed and how serious the General is about safety.”

Yes, that kinda makes sense. I suspect my face still displayed some unusual combination of emotions, so the Colonel continued.

“You ever watch the Godfather? The second one? You know that scene where Michael Corleone is confronting Hyman Roth about the death of Frank Pentangeli? Hyman Roth then turns the table on Michael and talks about his good friend Moe Greene.” I must have still had that confused look on my face.

The Colonel continued, “Hyman says, ‘Someone put a bullet through his eye. No one knows who gave the order. When I heard it, I wasn't angry. I knew Moe, I knew he was headstrong. Talking loud, saying stupid things. So when he turned up dead, I let it go. And I said to myself, 'This is the business we've chosen.’ " Basically, Hyman is telling Michael he knows Michael had his friend Moe killed, and Hyman didn’t take revenge or further action. He let it go. It was business, and the business (the mafia) the two of them had chosen."

“Well, there, Captain, this is the business you have chosen. You have chosen to be a Marine aviator. You chose to be a helicopter pilot. You chose to fly the way you did. You made these choices. This is what happens when you fly helicopters. Things like this are going to happen. There will be run-ins with senior officers. Don’t like it? Don’t want it? You are in the wrong business. This is the business you have chosen.”

Those words sunk in for a minute. I then saluted, about faced, and headed back to our squadron. This is the business I have chosen.

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Epilogue

There were quite a few questions about the days’ events when I got back to our squadron ready room. After sharing a bit with my fellow pilots, the phone rang. The officer on duty picked up, said, “Yes, sir. He’s right here”, and handed me the phone. It was Colonel McNamara. I wasn’t quite sure what to expect, and certainly didn’t think he would be calling me only 20 minutes after being part of that meeting in the General’s office.

“How you doing, Captain? I wanted to call and share something. After you left I went back and spoke with the General again. See, he and I have known each other for a long time. I was a Lieutenant when he was a Captain and we were in the same squadron back in the Vietnam days. I told him he should be happy with you.”

“Uh, how’s that, Sir?”

“I told the General he should be happy to have pilots in his Wing that can fly like that, like you did today. The General? Well, he grunted and said ‘Perhaps you are right.’ So that’s that. Keep your head high, Captain, and remember what I told you.”

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That was almost 25 years ago. I think of that day all the time and have told that story (I try to abbreviate it) to many co-workers in a variety of different situations. The big takeaway is quite simple...whatever you are doing, it's the business you have chosen. You made a conscious decision as an adult and there is no blame or bad feelings to be passed to another. Working at a series B startup and it’s crazy as hell? You joined startup world and this is the business you have chosen. Decided to take a new role and you weren't sure exactly how it would play out? You took a chance and this is the business you have chosen. No need to get frustrated or mopey or despondent about it. There is no one to blame but yourself, because this is the business you have chosen. Get your ass back up, run to the sound of the guns, and get back in the fight.

The other takeaway was that follow up phone call from the Colonel to try to cheer up a young Captain at the end of the day. He didn’t need to, but he did. He made the time to call a young officer who was feeling shell-shocked and gave him the morale boost he needed. That’s leadership.