It was pretty clear to me, and to Tony, that we simply could not comply with the directive. This was an area in which I must push back.
I spoke with Task Unit Bruiser’s senior enlisted advisor, who was responsible for the actual assignments of all our task unit’s enlisted troops.
“We can’t comply with this directive,” I told him.
“Charlie Platoon needs to cover down on this,” he insisted. “This is coming from our commanding officer. We don’t have any choice.”
I tried to explain the impact this would have on Charlie Platoon, but he again told me we didn’t have a choice. But it still made no sense.
So, I went to speak with Jocko. I had made up my mind that we could not, in good conscience, comply with the directive. I knew if I could make a good case to Jocko, he would do everything in his power to support me and Charlie Platoon.
I explained to Jocko how I understood that the project was important. I understood it bore strategic significance and had substantial visibility from senior commanders in the theater. But we would have to curtail the strategically critical operations in support of the Seize, Clear, Hold, Build strategy that were our main focus if we complied.
“I cannot comply with this and set our team up for failure with potentially deadly consequences,” I said.
The loss of an experienced SEAL leader during intense combat operations at the height of the Battle of Ramadi would have been catastrophic to Charlie Platoon’s operational capability. It meant we would be far less effective on the battlefield and that our platoon would be at far greater risk.
Jocko pushed back to the task group and passed along my concerns. Under pressure from the CJSOTF, our task group insisted that we comply. While I understood the need and the pressure on my chain of command to comply with the request, I could not passively comply with the removal of one of my key leaders to my team’s detriment. Even if it meant I might be fired, I was determined not to allow this to happen.
Finally, Jocko intervened to explain up the chain what the loss of such an experienced SEAL meant and the negative strategic consequences of the move. As a result, an alternative plan was formed to fill the billet, relieving Charlie Platoon of the need to sacrifice a critical member of the team.
* * *
But while a leader can’t be passive, a leader must also carefully prioritize when and where to push back. Leaders have an obligation to support their chain of command and carry out the orders that come from above (see chapter 9, “A Leader and a Follower”). Pushing back against an order or task from the boss should be the rarest of exceptions and definitely not the rule. To go against the chain of command when you don’t have to is unnecessary and unwise. If challenging and questioning orders becomes routine, junior leaders damage their relationships up the chain of command, which undercuts the ability to push back against direction from above when it truly matters.
In Task Unit Bruiser, we were successful in the two examples above only because we had built a strong relationship with our commanding officer and his staff at the task group through humility. When they had asked us to complete paperwork, we did it—on time and well-edited, quality work. When they asked us to take photos of our Iraqi soldiers in training and on combat operations, we did that and strove to do it better than anyone else. When the task group asked for serialized inventory lists of all equipment before departing on operations, we took the extra time and effort and made it happen. The list of seemingly unimportant requests we dealt with was significant, and with the high operational tempo of violent urban combat day in and day out, it was not easy to comply with these requests. But in Task Unit Bruiser, we didn’t complain about the little things that others might have pushed back on. Instead, we understood that there were important reasons for these administrative requirements and got them done. More important, we knew that in doing the seemingly small things well, we built trust that strengthened our relationships with our chain of command and enabled us to challenge an order in the rare circumstances when there truly was a strategic detriment to our mission and increased risk to our troops.
Staying humble was the key to developing trust with the chain of command. It was also crucial to building strong relationships with the U.S. Army and Marine Corps units we served so closely with in Ramadi—units we depended on for our survival and mission success.
We had formed an exceptional working relationship with Captain Mike Bajema and his U.S. Army Soldiers from Team Bulldog. As Bulldog’s company commander (Bravo Company, 1/37), Main Gun Mike led nearly two hundred Soldiers and a hundred more Iraqi soldiers stationed at Combat Outpost Falcon, located deep inside enemy-held terrain in the heart of South-Central Ramadi. He and his Soldiers risked their lives for us constantly, and we risked ours for them. It was a relationship built on trust, mutual respect, and admiration. But the relationship hadn’t started out that way.
I first met Mike in the planning phase, before the launch of the first major U.S. operation into South-Central Ramadi to implement the Ready First Brigade’s Seize, Clear, Hold, Build strategy. It was a massive operation. Our SEALs would patrol into the area as the first U.S. boots on the ground. Mike’s tanks and infantry troops would follow us as the main effort of the operation. As the planning took place, we were gathered outside his battalion headquarters, the home of Task Force Bandit, on base at Camp Ramadi. I walked up to him and introduced myself.
“Captain,” I said to Mike, using his Army rank, “I’m Lieutenant Leif Babin, SEAL platoon commander. We’re looking forward to working with you and your team.”
Mike looked back at me curiously.
“What are SEALs doing in Anbar Province?” he asked. “Shouldn’t you guys be riding a ship in the Persian Gulf?”
It was a jab. He was joking, but it was a jab nonetheless. It wasn’t the way I had anticipated the conversation going. But I just smiled back.
“Probably so,” I responded. “But we’re here in Anbar to support your efforts.”
Mike was a professional Soldier. He wasn’t being rude. But he had a lot on his plate leading a reinforced U.S. Army company of tanks and infantry Soldiers. He was likely unfamiliar with the capabilities of a SEAL platoon and thus unsure how we could support his efforts.
Besides, many of the conventional Army and Marine units had had bad experiences with special operations forces (SOF). SOF units, including SEALs, could be arrogant and egotistical. I found out later that Mike and his guys had experienced this with another SOF unit they had worked with previously. The SOF unit had treated him and his Soldiers unprofessionally. They refused to share intelligence with them or include them in the planning process, and they carried themselves with an arrogance that made working alongside them problematic. It’s likely that Mike expected the same from me, from our Charlie Platoon SEALs, and from Task Unit Bruiser. But I was determined to demonstrate the opposite and forge a strong relationship with him.
Unlike other SEAL and SOF units, we were clean-shaven, wore squared-away uniforms, and kept our hair short. Jocko knew that a professional appearance among the conventional forces was important—and he demanded that we remain well within regulations. That went a long way and made solid first impressions. But more important, we treated Mike and his Soldiers with the respect they deserved, just as we did with every Soldier and Marine. Team Bulldog and the other companies we worked with were outstanding Soldiers, aggressive and determined to close with and destroy the enemy. The armor units were skilled in maneuvering their tanks. The infantry troops were fearless in their patrols and clearance operations. All it took to build a relationship with them was to not act like arrogant jackasses; to not carry ourselves as though we thought we were somehow better because we were SEALs. That humility went far to solidify the relationship.
Two weeks later, the Ready First launched the next series of operations into a different neighborhood, to establish Combat Outpost (COP) Falcon. Mike and Team Bulldog were the main effort. We were again the lead U.S. element on the ground t
hat forged the way and set up on the high ground to protect his Soldiers as they infiltrated the area.
With the COP Falcon operation, Mike understood who we were and how we contributed to his mission success. Our SEALs took great risk to push forward into the most dangerous areas, set up our overwatches on the high ground, and provide cover for his Soldiers as they built the COP and patrolled the streets around it.
But it was the smallest, seemingly insignificant things that truly solidified our relationship with Main Gun Mike and his Soldiers. We had been out in a sniper overwatch position in a large building down the street from COP Falcon. After two days in that position, we needed to resupply. We patrolled back to COP Falcon to rest and refit and prepare for the next operation. As our SEALs and the Iraqi soldiers with us made our way inside the compound to the relative safety of the combat outpost, we saw team Bulldog Soldiers hauling sandbags from a semitrailer parked on the street up the stairwell to the third-story rooftop of the main COP Falcon building. Our guys were exhausted and ready to sit down, drop their helmets and body armor, and grab some water and an MRE (meal, ready to eat).
But there were thousands of sandbags on that semitrailer. It just didn’t seem right to me to sit down and rest while these Soldiers were laboring. So I asked Mike if we could help.
“We’re good, brother,” Mike replied. “I know you’ve been getting after it for two days. And you’re going to launch on another operation soon. Y’all get some rest. We’ll take care of the sandbags.”
I looked at my platoon chief, Tony Eafrati. He was always ready to BTF—Big Tough Frogman. That meant we would take on something extremely dangerous or physically challenging. Tony nodded at me. It was a nonverbal signal: Let’s do this.
“Negative,” I responded to Mike. “We’ll help with the sandbags.”
I told the rest of Charlie Platoon and some other SEALs who were with us to drop their combat gear and grab sandbags. There was some grumbling among the platoon. They were hot, tired, and ready for a break. Likely there were some SEALs among us who felt they were above carrying sandbags—that somehow they were “special” and “elite” and we should leave this work to the “conventional” forces. They were wrong.
These Soldiers were outstanding warriors worthy of respect and admiration. They had already launched tanks with heavy firepower to rescue Charlie Platoon SEALs and our Iraqi soldiers from a deadly enemy attack. These Soldiers had our back. And mutual support was the key to building relationships that enable teams to Cover and Move for each other. Besides, as I thought about it, the rooftop machine gun positions we were reinforcing with the sandbags directly supported us. They covered for us as we moved, as we departed and then returned to the safety of the COP from combat operations deep into enemy-held neighborhoods. The more secure those machine gun positions were, the better they could lay down fire for us as we maneuvered through the streets.
We hauled sandbags up and down the stairs for the next forty-five minutes. It was a solid workout, but the extra hands helped shorten the time it took to complete the task and assisted Bulldog in securing their rooftop machine gun positions.
It seemed like a small thing, but it was clear that it went a long way in helping us build an exceptional relationship. Mike and his Bulldog Soldiers saw that we didn’t hold ourselves above them or above the manual labor tasks. It demonstrated humility and solidified an already strengthening relationship.
Going forward, Team Bulldog Soldiers put themselves at great risk over and over and over again to render assistance and fire support to our Charlie Platoon SEALs. They came to our aid and rescued us every time we called for help—every single time. I loved those Soldiers and their courageous commander they called “Main Gun” Mike, and I will never forget them.
I will also never forget the importance of humility for a leader. A leader must be humble, must listen to others, must not act arrogant or cocky. But a leader must balance that and know that there are times to question superiors, to push back, to stand up and make sure the right things are being done for the right reasons.
Principle
Humility is the most important quality in a leader. When we had to fire SEAL leaders from leadership positions in a platoon or task unit, it was almost never because they were tactically unsound, physically unfit, or incompetent. It was most often because they were not humble: they couldn’t check their ego, they refused to accept constructive criticism or take ownership for their mistakes. The same is true in the business world. We dedicated an entire chapter of Extreme Ownership to this subject (chapter 4, “Check the Ego”). Humility is essential to building strong relationships with others, both up and down the chain of command, as well as with supporting teams outside the immediate chain of command.
Some leaders took this too far and became humble to a fault. But being too humble can be equally disastrous for the team. A leader cannot be passive. When it truly matters, leaders must be willing to push back, voice their concerns, stand up for the good of their team, and provide feedback up the chain against a direction or strategy they know will endanger the team or harm the strategic mission.
This is a difficult dichotomy to balance. But as with all the dichotomies—being strong, but not overbearing, for example—just the awareness of these two opposing forces becomes one of the most powerful tools at a leader’s disposal. Leaders must be humble enough to listen to new ideas, willing to learn strategic insights, and open to implementing new and better tactics and strategies. But a leader must also be ready to stand firm when there are clearly unintended consequences that negatively impact the mission and risk harm to the team.
Application to Business
“You guys haven’t given it a chance,” said the CEO, exasperated. “No one has fully implemented the new software system. You’re all complaining about it and telling me it won’t work, and you haven’t even used it. I need everyone to get on board with this.”
There were some unintelligible mumbles around the room. But nobody countered the CEO’s claim or made an overt objection. I could clearly see that many of the company’s key leaders disagreed with the plan, but nobody stepped up to push back against the CEO, at least not in a public forum.
We sat in a large hotel conference room, with thirty key leaders of a successful technology company. The CEO and many of the company’s senior leaders had read Extreme Ownership and been deeply impacted by the book. Bringing the book into the company’s leadership training, the CEO strove to implement the principles within his team. The company had brought their key leaders together for a leadership off-site and asked me to provide leadership training.
I presented a leadership brief on the Battle of Ramadi and the lessons that we learned, as detailed in Extreme Ownership. After an hour or so of the presentation, I opened it up to the room for questions and discussion, to aid them in direct application of the principles to their business.
“Extreme Ownership,” I said, repeating the topic just covered in detail. “Let’s talk about where you are taking ownership of problems and getting them solved. More important, where is this not happening? Where can you take greater ownership? Where are you casting blame or waiting for others to solve problems that you should be solving?”
The CEO was eager to answer. He jumped right in.
“I’m a little frustrated at the lack of ownership to implement our new software system,” he said. “We’ve talked about it for months. And yet, no one is taking ownership. All I’m hearing is a whole lot of excuses.”
I took mental note that his comment was itself a lack of ownership, casting blame on the team for poor, ineffective implementation of the new system. True Extreme Ownership meant looking at yourself to examine what you could do better. That is what made it “simple, not easy.” Human nature was to blame others, to allow frustrations with a problem to see everyone else as the issue and not yourself. But his comment wasn’t Extreme Ownership. Such blame casting and excuse making only created more.
It was a co
mmon problem we saw with many leaders: A good leader might have read the book many times and loved the concepts, but still struggle with implementation falling back on old habits. As a result, problems never get solved.
“Is there a reason that you all are purposely not utilizing the new software?” I asked the room.
There was an uncomfortable silence.
“You guys haven’t given it a chance,” the CEO interjected. “You’re all complaining about it, but no one has implemented it. I think it’s just a matter of resistance to change, any change—even if the change is for the better.”
The CEO was obviously frustrated with his leaders. It was clear he felt they were not supporting his direction on a key initiative to improve the company’s performance.
“We have already invested a ton in this new program,” the CEO continued. “It’s been years in the making. We’ve hired consultants, we’ve looked at the options. The decision has been made, and now it’s time to execute.”
“Does everyone understand the why?” I asked the other leaders in the room. “Are you clear about why the company is shifting to the new software system?”
There were a few head nods, but over half the room didn’t answer. They just sat there or shrugged their shoulders. It was clear that the why needed to be explained in far greater detail.
“It seems a greater explanation of the why is warranted,” I said, directing my comment at the CEO.
“I’ve explained this many times, but I’ll explain it again,” said the CEO. “As our company grows and we expand the number of clients and projects, we need to be far more efficient in managing, supporting, tracking, and following-up. Our antiquated software system is far behind what our biggest competitors utilize. It is a big selling point for them, and if we don’t upgrade, we will continue to forfeit business to competitors.
The Dichotomy of Leadership: Balancing the Challenges of Extreme Ownership to Lead and Win Page 26