When I served as the Commander of the 305th Supply and Services Company in the 227th Maintenance Battalion At Yongsan, Seoul, Korea, the company passed several major tests and milestones. And the company picked up new missions without skipping a beat. Oh, and I managed to get fired and rehired to my job as commander not once, not twice, but three times. But I also seemed to have a penchant for winning favor in certain circles. The problem was that I wasn’t certain exactly what circles those were. For example, I had recently been nominated for and won the AUSA Outstanding Officer of the Year in the 19th Support Command. I wasn’t certain whether I received that award as a consolation prize for being publicly humiliated by the Group Commander of the 501st Support Group when he fired me temporarily for the third time in front of the entire cadre of assembled officers of the entire support group. The Chief of Staff and the Commanding General of the 19th Support Command may have decided that they needed to bolster my public image. The only problem was that I didn’t give two shits about my public image. I knew the real deal and my soldiers knew the real deal. In my eyes, that was all that really mattered. As long as we continued to get the job done, nobody could say shit to us. However, there was the outside possibility that my soldiers were trying to bolster my image. But why would my soldiers think that my image needed bolstering? Was my image tarnished? I didn’t think so. Every time I walked outside in front of a formation, I saw soldiers wearing starched uniforms with high and tight haircuts and spit shined boots. As far as I knew, nobody had enforced that standard. That was my personal standard. But the soldiers had adopted my personal standard. So, was my image suddenly tarnished? Every time I looked in the mirror, I looked the same. Thus, I didn’t think my image had been tarnished. But you never know. Don’t get me wrong. If someone wants to offer me an award, fine. My only problem was: why weren’t those same people offering my soldiers awards for constantly setting new standards of excellence with each new mission that they undertook and accomplished. That was the $ 0.60 question. And my soldiers had accomplished some major milestones, and they had picked up and achieved some significant new missions. The significance of the achievements was such that my soldiers earned a new nickname. It wasn’t so much that the soldiers themselves earned the nickname. It was their actions that earned the nickname. They collectively came to be known as nine-one-one. Think of it this way. Whenever there was an emergency and time was of the essence and you absolutely needed a critical response right now, who were you going to call? Answer: nine-one-one. Finally, at one of the quarterly Battalion review parades, the 305th Supply and Services Company was finally recognized as the best company in the Battalion. That recognition hadn’t been achieved in over two years. The company had finally gone from last place to first place in the Battalion. I thought, finally, my soldiers are earning their just desserts. So, imagine my surprise when I received a phone call from Battalion to show up and see the Battalion Executive Officer. There’s a little something that you should know about our Battalion Executive Officer. Before coming to the Battalion, she had been at the Pentagon working for one of the Deputy Chiefs of Staff of the Army. She had the dubious distinction of being one of the seven dwarves while working in that capacity. See, each of the Deputy Chiefs of Staff had a dwarf. She was one of the dwarves. Apparently, her position was a very visible role in the Pentagon for which she received a lot of notoriety and a Legion of Merit Citation. I didn’t know many officers that held that distinction. Check that. I didn’t know any officers, or soldiers for that matter, that held that distinction. That was, until I met her. But why in the hell did she want to see me? Hmmm… Well, I soon found out. When I arrived at Battalion headquarters and reported to the Battalion Executive Officer, she said, “Hello, Wright. Good to see you.” You can always tell when somebody is painting the frosting on way too thick. They are trying to get you to choke something down that tastes like shit. Just exactly what in the hell she was trying to sell me would soon be revealed. I replied, “Hello ma’am. To what do I owe the pleasure?” “Wright, I need you to write up a one-page biography and submit a shoulder-length, full-page, eight-inch by ten-inch photograph by tomorrow.” “May I ask what in the hell this bullshit is for?” “Sure. Your soldiers have nominated you for consideration for the 19th Support Command General Douglas MacArthur Leadership Award.” “A leadership award?!? I didn’t ask to be considered for any goddamn leadership award. What in the hell kind of bullshit is that?” “The General Douglas MacArthur Leadership Award is a very prestigious award competition that is held at all major levels of command throughout the Army. Your soldiers have nominated you for consideration. You should consider this an honor to those soldiers.” “Yes, ma’am. A couple of questions. First, does the bio need to include my entire career or just since I was an officer? Second, does the photo need to be in dress greens or can it be in battle dress uniform.” “A bio of your officer career should be sufficient. As for the photo, one of your company photos in the battle dress uniform will do nicely.” “Yes, ma’am. I’ll have the bio and the picture here by close of business today.” I submitted my packet and figured that was that. I didn’t figure that I had an ice cube’s chance in hell of winning the competition, but what the hell. A week later I was called by the Chief of Staff of the 19th Support Command. He asked me to jump on a train the next day to travel down to Taegu to attend the 19th Support Command General Douglas MacArthur Leadership Award competition. The next day, I attended the 19th Support Command competition and competed against company grade officers from every unit in the 19th Support Command. Subsequently, about two weeks after that I was named the winner of the 19th Support Command, General Douglas MacArthur Leadership Award. Once again, awards fell from the sky. Why had I received this award? I had no idea. I just knew that my next stop was at the Eighth Army General Douglas MacArthur Leadership Award competition. Awards seemed to be falling from the sky while I was avoiding (or is it tripping into) exercises in futility.
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