I Wouldn’t Run Into a Burning Building for Me

I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t set foot inside. For you, your family, my brethren, my family, a stranger? Oh hell yes, without thinking. But not for me. Why not you ask?

For those who spent more than a day in uniform (not to exclude our first responders), you know the answer. Because “I” am not important. Business leaders and coaches spew the rhetoric of there is no I in team, son. They do so in an attempt to rally the team or group into some kind of temporary success; a new contract, faster production, or a win over State. But, in Chapter 2 of our lives, our time in service, our very sense of importance that was built up by Mom and Dad in Chapter 1, growing up, is violently and quickly stripped away. All of it, gone with the blink of an eye and the scream of a guy wearing Smokey the Bear’s hat. As we progress through Chapter 2, at our first duty station, “you mean nothing, only the Fire Team or section matters” is perpetuated and glorified.

During this time of personal growth, we learn that our personal growth is not for us, but for the team, the squad, the platoon. Sure, they want you to develop professionally, get smarter, stronger, more experienced, etc, but it’s not really for you. Sure, four times a year you will be counseled on your performance, but truly it relates to you being a member of a team. So few leaders care what happens to you in Chapter 3, only that you help the team in Chapter 2. Don’t get me wrong, many leaders do care, but the system does not. The Army mission is further broken down into a Mission Essential Task List (METL) which is further broken down into individual and collective tasks flowing back up to victory.

Act as an individual, not perform as a sacrificing member of the team and you will receive correction. Sometimes it’s a simple verbal correction, sometimes it’s a screaming session meant to make you feel less important. Or you might report on Saturday for School of the Soldier, a serious one-sided physical smoke show where your vision grows dimmer along with your hydration status. Or if handled internally, you will meet your buddy’s socks and learn what kind of soap they use. Spoiler alert, they use very hard soap! Very.hard.soap.

All this seemingly foolish psychology develops our Armed Forces into lean, mean fightin’ machines capable of death, destruction, compassion, and liberation. It develops teams capable of anything, in any environment, day or night. It develops complete trust and faith knowing that we all have each other’s backs and are always there for one another. It creates a terribly self – destructive Warrior in Chapter 3 of his life, after Service, who will help all his brethren without question but will have to be fought tooth and nail to take care of their own stuff. So, no, I won’t run into a burning building for me. It would be selfish and neglect the greater good, so I am told.

I see Warriors helping Warriors all the time. Rides to the VA, helpful advice, a shoulder to lean on, an ear to lend, a few bucks to pay a bill. But, particularly with Gen Xers, I see Warriors struggling with their own shit as they help the other guy. I see so many Warriors who have not focused on themselves for so long, they have no idea how to. Talking with one the other day who is about to transition from Chapter 2 to Chapter 3 and he was remarkably clueless and angry already. Where am I going to work, who will I hang out with, how do I do the VA crap, civilian life sucks. He hadn’t read Leave the Attitude at the CIF, yet, apparently. We, as a Department of Defense, do such a great job at removing the “I in team” over a bunch of years, 23 in my case, and then spend zero time building them back up as individuals. Zero time, period, over and out.

This likely plays into Warriors taking their own lives at an above-average rate. If we are taught we don’t matter, think of everyone else first, work as a team, it is understandable that we would feel like we don’t matter in the end. But, we are wrong. While we were being torn down as an individual, we were secretly just being assigned another role. The role of caregiver, superhero, best friend, trustworthy partner. You really did matter because without you being so strong, so smart, so experienced, the team wouldn’t be as strong, we wouldn’t be capable of completing the mission. Well, guess what buttercup, we still need you on the team. The team has just changed. It involves spouses and children and coworkers and friends and brethren. So, you have to work on being strong, and smart and experienced so that we can all navigate Chapter 3 together, with our partners, etc. You must go to your Drs appointments, work on your education, your physical fitness, your emotional strength, and your faith.

So, you know what, I guess I will run into a burning building for me. I will treat myself with the same honor, respect, and care that I do for everyone else. I will work on me, I will fix me. I will save me. How else am I going to be around long enough to save all you freaking bozos who don’t have your crap together? Stay safe brothers and sisters. And don’t forget to rush into that building…for you.

—SGM DTB—