CIGARS AND THE PORCH

The author, background, enjoying some mentoring 

For the record, I've never had a unit beer call. I've never had professional development where the battalion commander dealt out mentorship advice while his audience of junior officers got gradually sloshed. Maybe this is because I've always been a National Guard officer; maybe my commanders have been risk averse, fearing the stereotype of the beer-sodden “old” Guard; or maybe there have just been different types of mentorship.

As an enlisted soldier, I came across NCOs who inspired me or who developed me in one way or another, but no one who took me aside and said, “Look, son, you've got potential, I’m going to mentor you.” Possibly the reason for this is that infantry NCOs don’t actually talk like 1950's John Wayne characters, or maybe I just really didn't have any potential to speak of.

It was not until I was a brand new lieutenant, so shiny an uncomfortable with rank that a specialist once mistook me for a private, that I began to receive guidance. I was sitting in a training meeting that was about to start via teleconference, because being National Guard, the companies of the battalion were scattered all over the place. The duty day was over and the platoon leader I was shadowing had his feet up and was reviewing his notes. First sergeant walked in, carrying two pizzas and a six pack, plunked them down on the table, and the meeting began. Top opened a beer and handed it to me. I didn’t realize it then, but my mentoring had begun. The PL who I was shadowing, and soon to be relieving, began discussing training meetings, range procedures, and best practices, as asides, not pontifications.

 

My next experience with mentorship came about six months later, with our new executive officer. He was the first to formally mentor me, give me advice, career guidance, and help me navigate the silly ways of the Army. His classic line in response to my never-ending questions was, “There’s an FM for that, look it up.” I hated that, but he was right. There is doctrine for EVERYTHING. He guided me through my time as PL and still remains the principle person that I go to for advice to this day.

The sharp ones out there will note that my mentors up to this point have all been senior lieutenants. Yes, there was professional development from the company and battalion commanders, but only in the most formulaic Army way. Then, this one time, I went to Afghanistan.

When this is your backyard, you question your life choices.

As an engineer battalion headquarters, we were given a diverse mix of subordinate engineer companies: three from the National Guard, and two from the Army Reserve. Being engineers, each company “acquired” wood and improved their company areas, but none so much as our vertical company from Alabama. These guys somehow managed to scrounge enough wood together to build a full porch, with overhead cover from the rain. Shrouded in camo netting and complete with a built-in fire pit and electric lights, this became like our Nirvana. Beset by the never-ending requirements that come with battalion staffwork, we would sneak out of our offices at the end of the day, thread through the HESCOs, guy wires, and buzzing generators to the “Porch,” as it was called.

The Alabamans had already decreed one night a week would be music night, and the sounds of guitars and southern drawls wafted through the dank and dusty evening air. Eventually we added a mandolin, banjo, and fiddle to the mix, in the weird way that one is able to get musical instruments overseas. Cigars and, when we could get it, near-beer became an added feature. People from all different companies and even other battalions would show up, sometimes to join the bitching, sometimes to listen to the music, sometimes to hit golfballs off the HESCOs to see if they could touch off mines in the minefield (of course I’m joking, of course, really, I am). The clientele included officers, NCOs, warrant officers, and even a civilian contractor or two who would wander over.

For me, this became my resiliency training. It was ironic, because our brigade dictated a half day of official Army Resiliency training a week; this training (formulaic, rote, and mostly taught off PowerPoint slides) usually left me feeling more, rather than less, frustrated. So I would head down to the porch that evening, open my fiddle case, and escape into a world where task trackers and battle update briefs didn't exist.

It took me a little while to figure out that there was more going on in these cigar and music nights. We were a diverse group of individuals, from different states and backgrounds, and ideas flew across the porch like lightning. Sitting beneath the giant Alabama flag (that I often played The Battle Hymn of the Republic under, just to remind them who won), I would listen to the vast experience of the NCOs and warrant officers, as they related stories and lessons from their careers. This was real professional development.

And that’s when it struck me that sometimes professional development and mentoring don’t have to come from the top: they can come from all around you. After all, we are in charge of our own careers (as our admin NCOs constantly remind us). To me, if we want true 360 degree evaluation, we should also seek 360 degree mentorship and professional development. You can gain something valuable from almost anyone you meet in the military (I say almost, because we all know the ones I speak of).

The guys who somehow have moments like this.

Maybe professional development has changed, but there’s no reason to let it die. If you don’t receive it from the top-down, make it happen on your own. Take to social media, if nothing else. I know, that sentence just caused a thousand sergeants major to gasp in horror, but it’s true. Through Twitter, I've been able to interact with hundreds of great military members across all branches, including those who have left the military. In addition, there are fantastic military blogs popping up all over the place, from The Strategy Bridge to War is Boring to The Pendulum (where the inimitable Doctrine Man presides). It’s a brave new world for young leaders; let’s make the most of it.