I Had 3 Fathers

Chapter 57: I Had 3 Fathers

During the early days of my enlisted service, the platoon sergeant for my platoon was a Marine named Ross Carter. He was a very experienced leader of Marines and had served in combat in the Dominican Republic and in Vietnam, where he served three tours of duty and survived wounds received during each tour. He had also served as a drill instructor and exhibited all of the positive traits and characteristics of the Marines entrusted with this special duty.

Staff Sergeant Carter was very strict. In fact, he was uncompromising when it came to any Marine Corps standard, no matter how trivial. He left no doubt among the Marines in our platoon that the very least he expected of us was the very best we could do—during every minute of every hour of every day!Because he was not a man to be trifled with, everyone in the platoon did their best to meet the high standards he set for us. 

SSgt. Carter was truly a bad-ass Marine, and though we all wished at times that we could have a more relaxed platoon sergeant, we also knew that if we were ever called on to go to war, we wouldn’t want to be led by anyone else. It wasn’t long into his tenure as our platoon sergeant that I came to the realization that if I emulated him in every way, I’d undoubtedly do well as a leader of Marines. Quite simply, I wanted to be like Staff Sergeant Carter when I grew up!

Role Model and Mentor

As a very young corporal, I lacked the experience and knowledge that many individuals had when they’re placed in charge of a squad of 12 other Marines, compounded by the fact that many of my Marines were older than me. SSgt. Carter invested a lot of time to get me up to speed. He shared his wisdom and insights, providing invaluable leadership techniques and tips that I used effectively throughout my service in the Marine Corps and my subsequent business career.

Like most Marines who had never served in combat, I was very eager to hear any stories that SSgt. Carter would share with me and he did so on numerous occasions, always emphasizing the lessons embedded in each story. He had experienced a lot of infantry combat during his tours in Vietnam and, every now and then, I could tell that some of his stories were causing him to think of things that were painful. Years later, I felt some remorse over being so relentlessly inquisitive about his combat experiences. By that point, I’d matured and learned that for many combat veterans, some memories are best kept locked up in the far corners of their mind.

SSgt. Carter obviously knew that I was genuinely interested in becoming a good leader, however. He knew that I, as a young and na?ve noncommissioned officer (NCO), was actually eager, if not hopeful, to one day prove myself in combat. So, he did what any good Marine leader would do: he taught me everything he knew about leadership and especially combat leadership.He would also frequently say, “Be careful what you wish for, Ettore.” It would be many years until I truly understood what he was trying to tell me.

The Send-Off

One day, Staff Sergeant Carter called me into his office and told me that my request for orders to the drill field had been approved and that I was to report to drill instructor school in several weeks. I remember that I stood in front of his desk and felt happy and a bit frightened at the same time. I was getting the opportunity to become a Marine drill instructor and was certainly excited about that—but I also knew that to do so, I’d be entering an environment where I’d be competing with Marines who were much older and certainly more experienced than I was. I was about to knock on the door of “The Big Boys Club,” as SSgt. Carter used to call the drill field.

Sitting in his office were two other staff noncommissioned officers (SNCOs), both of whom also had served on the drill field. They both congratulated me on my orders to DI School and offered to help me in any way before I departed the unit. Sensing that I was a bit off-balance by the news he’d just shared with me, Staff Sergeant Carter tried to lighten the mood by making a joke about my age, saying, “Hey, do you guys know that Ettore is only 20 years old? Can you believe that? Back in our day, drill instructors didn’t have pimples!” They all laughed at this and so did I, knowing that they all were truly happy for me and wanted me to do well.

When the time came to depart the unit, SSgt. Carter met with me to give some last words of advice on making it through DI school. As I stood up to leave, he shook my hand and said, “Good luck, Sergeant Ettore. You’re a good sergeant and a good leader. I’d be happy to go to war with you. Now go down there and make us all proud. And stay out of trouble!”

I left his office feeling good and confident. But there was also a sense of sadness. I was leaving behind someone who’d had a huge impact upon my development as both a man and Marine. I’ve always said that I was blessed with three fathers: Larry Ettore, my actual father and a great role model; Gary Wikander, my high school wrestling coach; and Staff Sergeant Ross Carter. I was going to miss him.

The Award Ceremony

Many years later, about a year or so after the conclusion of the Operation Desert Storm, I was informed that I was going to be awarded a medal for actions during combat operations in Kuwait. 

Typically, the level of this particular award called for the division commander, a two-star general, to award it to the recipient during a formal ceremony. I knew that now-Sergeant Major Carter was stationed on the same base and I decided that I would like to have him present the medal to me. I asked the battalion commander if he thought this was possible and he said he’d do his best to make it happen. A few days later, he told me that my request had been approved.

The awards ceremony was a fairly formal event; it included a formation of hundreds of Marines and several dozen spectators, including my wife and children. As the official presenting the award, Sergeant Major Carter would be positioned in the front of the formation, facing the assembled Marines.

For the past few months, he had been using a cane to help him walk, since he was experiencing some mobility issues stemming from wounds received in Vietnam. I watched him hesitate a bit as he was about to march out to take his position. At that moment, he apparently decided that he’d ditch the cane. He handed it to a Marine standing nearby and walked, with obvious discomfort, to his designated spot on the parade ground.

An announcer read the award citation, which described the actions for which I was being recognized. Once the reading was finished, Sergeant Major Carter pinned the medal on my shirt and said some very nice things to me—the most important of which was that he was very proud of me. I told him several things; among them was that my being awarded this medal was largely due to the mentoring he had provided to me long ago, and that there were Marines standing in the formation that were alive because of some of the lessons that he’d taught me. At the end of my comments, I said, “Thank you, Sergeant Major, for everything you’ve done for me.” I think my comments had taken him a bit by surprise and he replied, “Thank you, Sir. You’ve done well and I always knew that you would.”

Lessons for Leaders

There are some important lessons in this story, and I want to emphasize a few of them. As a young Marine, I was very curious and wanted to learn as much as possible about my profession. This is a good quality; in fact, I think it is essential if one desires to become a world-class leader. But most importantly, I was fortunate to have a leader who was willing to mentor me and guide my development as a young NCO. Staff Sergeant Carter was the epitome of the teacher that General Lejeune had envisioned and encouraged all Marine leaders to become in the 1921 Marine Corps Manual. Ross Carter was willing to invest a lot of time in me.

Of course, simply acquiring some of Staff Sergeant Carter’s knowledge and insights was, in itself, not going to make me a good leader. I had to find ways to effectively integrate what I’d learned into my own leadership style. Aside from the fact that we had different personalities, he had so much more experience and credibility than I did and a lot more rank, which obviously means a great deal in the Marine Corps! 

And instead of trying to completely adopt someone else’s persona, mannerisms, etc.—a classic and all-too-frequent mistake made by young leaders—I did what I’d been advised to do in my previous leadership training: I remained who I was as a person while I was trying to grow as a leader instead of striving to simply become a clone of SSgt.Carter.

It should be noted that while some of the lessons I learned from Ross Carter had proven to be effective across several generations of Marines, some of them had to be modified to accommodate for new technologies, weapons systems, and very different combat environments in which I had to lead Marines.

Perhaps the most important factor was that the individual Marines that I led during the latter part of my career were in some ways very different from those of my early days in the enlisted ranks. They were not any better or worse than Marines of previous eras, but they came from an American society that was different than I had been raised in, and certainly was quite a bit different than Staff Sergeant Carter’s experience!

I and all other Marine leaders had to adapt to this in various ways to effectively lead Marines. At the same time, we had to ensure that our Marines were held to the timeless standards and traditions of the Corps. This has obvious parallels in today’s business world, in which the leaders born during the Baby Boomer era are becoming increasingly rare and employees from Generation X, Generation Y (the Millennials), and Generation Z (the Centennials) attempt to understand each other and work effectively toward organizational goals and objectives.

Last but not least, this story reemphasizes the age-old philosophy of “don’t forget where you came from.” Like anyone who has achieved even a modest amount of success as a leader, I am the product of the schools, both formal and informal, that provided me with the ability to learn so much, as well as the many mentors I was fortunate to have guide me in a lifelong journey of leadership. None were more influential to me than Staff Sergeant Ross Carter. Having him present that medal to me in front of so many Marines and spectators was my small way of publicly acknowledging his patience and willingness to teach a young, inexperienced, and often hard-headed NCO. It was also a wider acknowledgment of so many superb Marines who had, in some way, helped me since the earliest days of my time in the Corps.

Everyone deserves at least one Staff Sergeant Carter to help them grow as leaders, in whatever type of organization they serve in. For those who don’t yet have such a mentor, take action and find one, even if he or she is external to your team, department, or entire organization. And never forget that you have a responsibility to be someone else’s Staff Sergeant Carter once you gain even a modest amount of experience as a leader!

“A society grows great when old men plant trees in whose shade they shall never sit.” — Greek Proverb

Trust-Based Leadership: Marine Corps Leadership Concepts for Today's Business Leaders