Thank you, Cadet Uthlaut. Ladies and Gentlemen of the Corps:
“As I was leaving the hotel this morning, a doorman asked me, Where are you bound for, General? and when I replied, West Point, he remarked, Beautiful place, have you ever been there before?”
OK, Corps, relax! My classmates will recognize this quote as the opening line for the 12 May ’62 address in the Mess Hall by General MacArthur. But – this evening's speech will not be one in which I “cross the river” or discuss my “last conscious thoughts.” I pray to God that the “shadows” are not lengthening for Susan and me – that our “twilight” is not here – that our “days of old” have not vanished “tone and tint” – that there’s still some “Hooah” left in the two of us!
Dave, again, thank you very much for your kind introduction. I thought the corps was magnificent today "on parade." The effort which you and the rest of your chain of command expended was obvious and deeply appreciated! And the honor which each of you has extended to Susan and me tonight is something we shall never forget!
Susan and I realize we only have “22 and a butt days” left -- and we know it’s probably time to leave when we can go to a 100th Night Show and get almost all of the inside jokes - especially when they are told on you!
But, before Susan and I head out of Thayer Gate for the last time, both of us would like to embrace and thank each of you – if not physically, then with words.
I wanted to start, however, by recognizing my classmates and fellow officers from the era of the late ‘50’s and early ‘60’s; we were together during those challenging but fun times as cadets. And we all served together as junior officers during a hellish period known as Vietnam. For that reason alone, this is a remarkable group of graduates. I am sure almost any “gray” member of the Long Gray Line will say that about his class or era. But to my classmates and fellow grads from the ‘60’s who are here tonight: the awards for heroism, the purple hearts, and the countless examples of your personal sacrifice too numerous to mention, fill me with enormous pride, just being in your presence – and being part of the “Vietnam generation” that answered a nation’s uncertain call. The country can never thank you enough for your sacrifices during an impossibly difficult era.
But what I really want to do is talk for a few minutes to the Corps. I want to leave each of our cadets with a simple message about a leadership fundamental. Four years ago, we changed West Point’s mission by adding what some are now calling “the third verb.” All of us used to memorize the magic line of a mission statement from years gone by. The older “mission” told us that we were in the business of “educating and training” the Corps of Cadets. But in 1998, we added another action verb – “to inspire.”
Why did we do this? Let me answer by taking you to the next line of the mission statement, and then by asking you a rhetorical question. Are we about “educating, training, and inspiring the Corps of Cadets, so that each graduate is a commissioned manager of character?” Is that what we are training Uthlaut, Kapinos, Goodwin, Heard, Clark, Pickler, Morrissey, Thornton, Evans, Dempsey, Clay Livingston, indeed, all of our leaders, to do? To be commissioned managers of character? No way!
So what’s the difference between the two – managers and leaders? One fundamental difference is the “third verb” – to inspire! The word comes from the Latin root that means simply, “to inject with spirit.” Leaders cannot move people, cannot influence their actions, cannot infuse a vision or philosophy, cannot make subordinates or teams reach into themselves, to achieve beyond themselves – without “injecting spirit.”
Last month, Coach K sent me a note after the Final 4 in Minneapolis. Mike Krzyzewski said: “Dan, our youngsters were absolutely fantastic. They played as a unit, with passion and intelligence throughout the entire season.” Now I’ll tell you, they didn’t get that way, without a leader named Coach K injecting them with that passion - and with that intelligence!
21st century leadership means nothing if leaders can’t break free of the cathode ray tube and get in front of their troops. Don’t succumb to the temptation to “control it all” from your keyboard! The force of personality is enormous. Your command wants to hear – at the critical time – the urgency of the moment, and to sense the urgency from their commander! They won’t get that from managers. They will from leaders! That’s why we added the “third verb.” Leaders must be comfortable with information tools; you certainly are. But leaders also must know when to stand on a hood of a HMMWV – and inspire!
Now I’m not emphasizing this because I sense a dearth of “inspiration” here. Just the opposite! It’s all around us.
Leaving West Point will be difficult, precisely because Susan and I have seen so many examples of inspirational leadership from each of you. What have we witnessed that gives us confidence that our 21st century Army will be in sound hands? Let me count the ways.
- I’ll start with my CSM. Mary Sutherland, it’s terrific having you back with us! The place has not been the same without your “Hey, bud,” or your nice, quiet, soft suggestions to umpires and refs that they are “missing a great game; could you please open your eyes?” However, I think all of us recognize that Mary probably would not be here, but for the work and prayers of our Corps, and especially of Black Jack the Mule (Sean Morrow), the Black Knight (Nate Grant), and their handler (Jim Golby) – each of whom traveled, during their free time, on a weekend, to inspire you at Walter Reed. Each of them, by the way, then visited the Fisher House and hospital wards for terminally ill children, before returning to USMA. Inspirational leadership?
- How about John Roseborough and Rob Olsen, two inspirational tacs who in the last year gave their last full measure of devotion to this great Army and each of you? At Rob’s funeral, he was eulogized as a young leader with “passion and integrity, who loved his family, his cadets, and his troops.” And when I saw John Roseborough last, just two days before he died, he stood up, walked to me, in obvious pain, and saluted perfectly. Inspirational leadership?
- Cadet Rex Storch, originally the Class of ’99, 3rd Regiment, diagnosed with acute leukemia his yearling year, was sent home to recover. Then, when his disease threatened to consume him, he reported to Walter Reed for follow-on treatment. The Dean, Commandant, and I went to his hospital room in September. We asked how he was doing, and he said he’d only like to ask us one favor: would we allow him to put on his cadet uniform one last time and join his company at Philadelphia for the Navy game? We said, “Absolutely, Rex.” He died two weeks later – never getting his wish. But he reminded all of us of the need to enjoy to the fullest every precious moment given to us. Rex inspired.
- Cadet Rex Storch may not have received his final wish, but so many of you have given young children their final wishes, by embracing them through the “Make a Wish” Foundation, and by enriching their last few months - as you did this spring - by the warmth of a West Point hug, by the presentation of a pint-sized full dress coat, or by the donation of a personally embroidered Army game jersey. How can one not be inspired, to watch the Corps of Cadets “in action,” in this moving way?
- This year’s Rhodes Scholarship winner, Seth Bodnar, personifies what I’m talking about. I know he’s embarrassed by me mentioning this, especially to a mere 4,300 of his closest friends in the Mess Hall. But last December, just after he won the Rhodes, I met a member of his selection panel – the President of Colgate University. He said that Seth was a brilliant and personable young man, but what caused him to stand out above the rest was an incident that occurred the night before, at the Rhodes cocktail party for the candidates and the selection committee. It was, in essence, a “major schmooze” opportunity – by design. All the Rhodes candidates, save one, huddled closely around the cocktail table hoping to get the attention of the selection committee, when, suddenly, the entrance door to the cocktail reception opened. Standing at the door was a totally blind Rhodes candidate, who had no idea of the layout of the room, where the chairs were located, who was in the room, or anything about its configuration. Only one candidate separated himself from the “madding crowd” and went over to help the blind student – who happened to be from Penn State. The candidate helped his visually handicapped companion navigate through the room and helped with the introduction of the rest of the scholarship committee. The Rhodes candidate who helped this blind student was Seth Bodnar. The next day he won a Rhodes scholarship. So did his blind Penn State associate. “Inspiration?” Clearly, Seth’s got it!
I have talked long enough. My lovely wife of 33 years, the former Susan Browning, had asked if she could say a few words to each of you. Like me, she has become enamored with the magic of this great Academy and of the inspiration we see from its cadets and those who educate, train and mentor them.
When I was a plebe and a yearling, we knew the Supe’s wife for two reasons: she banned Playboy from our mail boxes, and she banned the “twist” from the “Weapons Room” – the cadet lounge which was then located in Arvin Gym. The lawyers told the Supe’s wife she couldn’t do the former, and a firstie cadet “hop manager” lured her onto the dance floor to dance the twist to the sounds of Chubby Checker; shortly thereafter, the “no twist” edict was quickly reversed as well. Susan has danced many dance steps with me and with the Corps over the years – and, God willing, she’ll be by our sides for many years ahead. Members of the Corps, Mrs. Susan Browning Christman.
(Susan speaks)
If I could make a wish for all of you - besides your health and safety forever - it would be that you all would find a love such that we have!
But, besides that love, my love for West Point and the wonderful people that are here has never ceased since Captain Dan Christman brought me here for our first date for an Army football game in October of 1967. We will miss this great national treasure and all of you who truly are what makes this place what it is. One of the parents wrote us the first year we were here and said, in part, "This has been an experience of a lifetime, not only for our son but for us also. It is with awe and pride that we watch our son graduate and join the Long Gray Line, an accomplishment that will enrich his life forever."
We look at all of you in this same way as well. We will follow your future careers and rejoice in your many accomplishments. Most importantly, I ask that you not only take care of yourselves, but that you take care of each other as well. As Bob Hope, the great USO performer and friend of the military often said, "Thanks for the memories."
(LTG Christman)
Let me leave you with two brief, final thoughts. The first deals with “perspective.” One sure way of keeping your “inspirational” leadership style alive is to ensure you never take yourself too seriously. Good leaders keep themselves in perspective – always. Good leaders can poke fun of themselves, and enjoy it! Good leaders have a sense of humor – which by the way, can get you out of many a “tight jam.” Consider President Bush. He was pilloried by the press during and after the campaign for butchering English Grammar – until he gave a speech earlier this spring at the Correspondent’s Dinner in Washington – and made fun of himself. Here is what he said:
“Then there is my most famous statement: 'Rarely is the question asked, is our children learning.' Let us analyze that sentence for a moment. If you’re a stickler, you probably think the singular verb “is” should have been the plural “are.” But if you read it closely, you’ll see I’m using the intransitive plural subjunctive tense. So the word “is” are correct.”
We have heard very little about President Bush’s grammar since then!
Second, I ask all of you to remember what we have been trying so hard for the last five years to internalize with respect to treatment of subordinates: tough, demanding, stressful, standards-based training does not have to be demeaning! You have heard all of us emphasize the importance of “Schofield’s Definition” as an enduring guide for 21st century leadership. Let me leave you with a short story that was culled from the life of a West Point yearling at the beginning of the last century. The story is in the “tradition of Schofield.” The yearling in this case was not Douglas MacArthur; it was Dwight Eisenhower.
The author, Stephen Ambrose, consultant for the movie Saving Private Ryan, poignantly describes what happened to Eisenhower when a plebe ran into him in the process of carrying out an order. The plebe tumbled to the ground after his physical confrontation with “Ike.” As Ambrose describes it, Eisenhower “reacted with a bellow of astonishment and mock indignation.” In a scornful voice, Eisenhower ridiculed the plebe by saying “What is your Previous Condition of Servitude?” Eisenhower added sarcastically, “You look like a barber.” As the plebe pulled himself together, Ambrose describes his reply in a soft voice as follows: “I was a barber, sir.” Eisenhower turned red with embarrassment. Without a word, he returned to his room and told his roommate that he was never going to haze a plebe again as long as he lived. “I’ve just done something that was stupid and unforgivable. I managed to make a man ashamed of the work he did to earn a living,” Ike said. As Ambrose concluded, Eisenhower’s reaction to the incident typified his four years at West Point: he took from West Point what was positive and rejected what was negative.
As I know each of you appreciate, we have been trying to eliminate the “negative,” to the limits of our God-given ability. St. Onge, Abizaid, Lamkin, Olson, Kaufman, Sutherland, all of us, have repeated over and over: tough and demanding does not have to be demeaning or humiliating! Your troops will follow you anywhere, if they know you give a damn about them, and hold them to the same exacting standards to which you hold yourselves!
Well, it’s time for Susan and me to step aside. I've not looked forward to this. As is written in Eclessiastics, “For everything there is a season, and a time for purpose under heaven.” For Susan and me, this has been an incredible “five year season.” I just packed away the audio tapes the Rabs gave me – “Men in Black,” “Gettin’ Jiggy Wid’ It,” "The Train," "Wild Wild West," the "Macarena." And so -- it’s time to turn this over to the new “first family.” I told the new Supe in my first note that he better learn the rocket!
Most of you have by now seen the movie Gladiator. (I was surprised, by the way, that Jonathan Poe didn’t ask me to dress up as Maximus for a 4th quarter appearance. But sadly, Jon, I've turned in my loin cloth!) At the beginning of that wonderful film, Maximus tells his troops, “What we do in life, echoes in eternity.” What you are doing here, and what you can do in service to country, will, in fact, “echo” in eternity. And, it will “echo” with special resonance, thanks to inspirational leaders – in the tradition of Maximus and Eisenhower, and each one of you. That has been the magic of West Point for 200 years. I am confident, knowing you, that your lives will “echo in eternity,” for as long as there is this great Republic we call the United States.
God bless you all. Thanks for all you have meant to Susan and me.
Go Army!!
