Leading Through Adversity

I took some time to reflect on the challenges people face when being called to lead through adversity and wanted to share some of my own experiences. My hope in doing so is that you will see how even the best of intentions sometimes do not yield the desired results, but making decisions based on core values will provide clarity and a path forward.  

At 26, in the middle of graduate school, I began to realize a few things.

-         The more I learn, the less I know

-         Having influence is much more important than control

-         More does not always mean more. More money, more education, more locations, more business opportunities

-         More means nothing without a clear vision for where the company or I personally need to go

-         Making our vision a reality is not possible without the buy-in, efforts and alignment of others

Leadership never stops… even when I sometimes wish it would… if only for a moment.

There are times when I have been called to lead my family, friends, while serving in the Army and now in business. It is the highest honor and heaviest burden to lead others while staying true to my own core values. To seriously consider opinions I don’t personally agree with is tough. To be confident and strong for others when I’m just as fearful of the situation we’re navigating through does not seem fair at times. To me, that is the very essence of successful entrepreneurship, and the greatest reward in life… to coach, develop and lead others to accomplish more than they ever thought they could. 

A few experiences from my life might help others understand why it is always so important to me that our people never stop learning and improving.  

While deployed as a Cavalry Platoon Leader in Afghanistan from May 2007 – May 2008, the convoy I commanded made a right turn onto a densely populated urban corridor near the center of Kabul, the capital city. It was early afternoon and the street was full of cars and people. Our convoy’s movement caused civilian vehicles to pull to the side in a similar fashion as we do when an emergency vehicle passes in the states. Moments after the last truck made the turn, my section leader called over the radio. A young girl was hit by a vehicle that moved to avoid our convoy. She was injured but appeared alive. He requested we stop to render aid. I said no. He complied, and the convoy continued "traveling overwatch" toward Camp Phoenix, the Forward Operating Base (FOB) we operated from. 

Less than two months before on May 20th, 2007, I was commanding the first of what would be many long-range convoy security missions away from Kabul. Along the way, we traveled over a two-lane mountain pass at almost 10,000 ft above sea level. The views were breathtaking. On the other side of the pass, we arrived at a small city called Gardez. We maneuvered methodically through urban streets packed with pedestrians, cars, donkey carts, motorcycles… there was barely enough room for our five armored Humvees to make it through. We moved through a roundabout in the city’s center into an even more crowded street-side market. I remember thinking we’re going to be in good shape now… only a few miles from base and the place was absolutely packed with people. Months of intense combat training and intelligence reports earlier that morning indicated serious immediate threats were much less likely in this type of environment at that time. Those intelligence reports would turn out to be inaccurate... They did not account for one Taliban operative who decided it would be an excellent day to don a suicide vest and walk out between the last two trucks in our convoy. This person did not care about civilian casualties which we later learned amounted to 7 people killed, over 30 injured. I was as prepared as I could have been, but no amount of training, research or other experiences could quite match the intensity of that moment and the events that immediately followed. Yet I was responsible to my people, to be confident, to move forward and lead in that moment.

Radio updates from the last two trucks described considerable damage, but amazingly, they could still move… slowly… under their own power. Then came a second call from the last truck… their gunner was slumped down in the turret, unconscious with serious bleeding, but he still had a pulse. We later learned a piece of shrapnel had lodged in his neck paralyzing one vocal cord but thankfully just missing his spinal cord and carotid artery. Then the 4th and 3rd truck called with two additional injury reports. We had to secure ourselves and move out quickly… we had no idea if the attack was over or if it was part of an ambush yet to come. 

What didn’t change in that moment was the mission. Our job was to deliver soldiers and supplies to the main US Army ran FOB in Gardez. I called ahead to notify them that we were on the way, and the situation was dire. The aid station needed to prep for our arrival. They had heard the blast from base, knew we were in the area but didn’t realize we took the impact head on until I reached them over the radio. The first two Humvees, including the one I was in, headed for a large white building with a red cross… an obvious sign of a medical facility but turned out to be the Afghan Army aid station which could not provide the level of care our soldiers required. We hopped back in the truck and a few moments later, found the inner gate to the US side. The US Army Aid station was there. The last two trucks had gone on to arrive first and two of my soldiers were already taken out of the truck and were receiving emergency treatment. 

I remember walking into the medical “b-hut” (rudimentary wooden hut) after we rolled to a stop. I saw two of my soldiers on stretchers flanked by medical staff. A third was sitting in a chair getting his hand bandaged after shrapnel was removed. I looked them all over, walked back out of the b-hut and around the corner to a more secluded area, and cried. I was overwhelmed. I had to take a moment for myself, but I also had a job to do… people depended on me to stand back up and move forward. I wiped my eyes and went back to where my platoon was collecting themselves and assessing the damage. Another section leader in my team was frantically running around in shock about what just happened. It was his team that took the direct hit. I tried to calm him somewhat unsuccessfully then heard the first helicopter arriving. 

The plan was to medivac my injured soldiers to Bagram Air Base, about an hour helicopter ride North, where more intensive medical care would be possible. The first helicopter, an AH-64 Apache, arrived armed with “heavy” weapons to help deter potential enemy indirect mortar fire. The area surrounding the landing zone was meticulously surveyed “cleared” then the pilot began circling the FOB as a strong security force to scan for any immediate threats before the medivac chopper arrived. The next to arrive was an HH-60M MEDEVAC Black Hawk. It came in quick and landed as the medical team rolled my guys toward it on individual gurneys. The medical team didn’t need my help at that point, but I walked close beside. The two more severely injured soldiers were loaded and secured for takeoff, the pilot throttled up and I watched as both helicopters flew north toward Bagram. 

Two months later, those memories were ever-present when the call came over from my section leader to stop and care for the injured girl. Due to the events in Gardez, I now understood what was at risk… it could be life or death at any moment for my team. We could do everything “right” and still not come home. I made the decision to not take on the added risk when our vehicle(s) were not directly involved in the accident. Today, I know that was the wrong call. I should have listened and stopped the convoy. We never learned the extent of her injuries or if she even survived. My section leader complied and kept his team on task even though he did not agree. After arriving on base, he came over to express his concerns. We had built a strong bond of mutual respect, and I remember him saying “you will understand when you have kids”. That section leader was with me in Gardez… he also knew the risks involved. It was at that point, that I started listening more. 

I cannot take back decisions already made or the impact my decisions had on others. What I can, and will do, is learn from them while elevating to a new level of my personal best every day. Leadership is not a pursuit of personal perfection; it is putting the needs of others before your own and empowering a team to accomplish something that is greater than any one individual thought possible.

Fast-forward a few years. Amy and I started a business and a family together. It was never easy, but we were on firm footing, so we thought… then came a world-wide pandemic. What do we do? We didn’t have a contingency plan for this nor were we backed by a big equity firm “sitting on” a massive cash reserve. Revenue dropped by 85% in two weeks. We had a choice, either cut our losses and give someone else the keys, or take charge of the situation and lead our people. No matter where you go or what you do in life, we challenge you to never forget that you are always a leader (sometimes even when you don't want to be...). Take care of your family and employees and always be a positive example for others to follow. 

This is how we navigate through unprecedented times in our lives... we swallow our pride, become more transparent, listen, learn and never, ever give up on ourselves and our people.