Читать книгу The Armed Forces Officer - United States Department of Defense - Страница 6

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The main purpose of this book is to stimulate thought and to encourage the average young officer to seek truth for, and in, himself. It is never a good idea to attempt a precise formula about matters which are by nature indefinite and subject to all number of variable factors.

Thus with respect to career planning, despite all of the emphasis put upon that subject in modern America, it would be plain error to infer that any man can become all-wise, as to the direction which he should take with his own life, simply by steeping himself in all of the information which is to be had on this subject.

That might qualify him to give top-lofty advice to all others on how to make the start up the right ladder, and he would win a reputation as a personnel expert, which in itself is no mean assignment. But in all probability, he would still be doing better by himself than by any other individual.

American library shelves are stacked with such books as "Planning Your Future," "New Careers for Youth," and "The Problem of Vocational Guidance." The pages are laden with sage counsel and bromidic expressions. But their chief public value is that they enabled a writer, his publisher and the bookseller to get a little further ahead in life.

Reflecting the trend elsewhere in the national life, the Armed Services are equipped to give their forces the advantage of career management principles, and to assist their men to plan their professional careers. The opportunities and the job qualifications can be described. Also, somewhat more thoroughly than is done in civil life, the establishment's system of record-keeping throws a partial light on the aptitudes of the individual. The qualified man is soon known by his "spec number" or maybe two numbers. It might seem therefore that things are so well-regulated that the prospect of every man finding his niche is better than even.

The fact remains that the majority of individuals spend the greater part of their lives doing something other than that which would bring out their best quality and give them the greatest satisfaction, mainly because accident, in one form or another, put them into a particular channel, and inertia kept them there.

A boy builds model airplanes. His hobby being a force in his youthful years, he becomes a pilot, and then discovers to his shocked amazement that he does not have his heart in machines but in the management of men. A man who has lived his life among guns, and who enjoys the feel and the working of them, enters the service and permits himself to be made a food procurement specialist, having run that kind of business in civil life only because he had inherited it from his father. An officer assigned to a weapons detail finds it hard going. And the fact that he takes a delight in writing a good paper still does not signal to him that this is his main field and he should exploit it to the fullest!

To what do these things point? In particular, to this, that despite all of the help which may be provided by outside agencies, finding the straight thoroughfare in work is mainly a problem of searching self-examination and personal decision. The impression which any other person may have of our talents and possibilities is largely formed by what we say, think and feel about ourselves.

This does not require that constant introspection which is found in Cecil Forester's nervous hero, "Captain Horatio Hornblower." That man doubtless would have died of stomach ulcers before winning his second stripe. It is not a matter of, "How do I look to someone else?" but of, "What do I know about myself?" The kind of work which one likes best and does with the greatest facility, the avocational study which is pursued because it provides greater delight than an encharged responsibility, the talent which one had as a youth but was dropped because of the press of making a living, the task which looks alluring though one has lacked either the chance, or the courage, to try a hand at it—these are among the more fertile points of inquiry.

Weighing it out, the service officer has an unrivaled opportunity for fruitful experiment.

In the first place, he has made the fundamental decision to serve his country in the profession of arms. The meaning of that decision should not be lost on him. It is by nature patriotic. But if he regards his inheritance simply as a snug berth and the best way to provide "three squares" to himself and family throughout a lifetime, he is neither soundly patriotic nor intelligently selfish.

After signing on the line for his country, the individual's duty to himself is to strive by every honorable means to move ahead of his competition by growing more knowledgeable and better qualified. It is the inherent right of every officer to request such service as he believes will further his advancement, and far from discouraging the ambitious man, higher authority will invariably try to favor him. In no other mode of life are older men so ready to encourage the willing junior.

Gen. H. H. Arnold, the great air leader of World War II, is an inspiring case study with respect to several of these points. He wrote in "Global Mission" how he considered quitting the Army in disgust upon being commissioned in infantry, following graduation, so deeply was his heart set upon service in cavalry. But something held him to the assignment. Some years later he tried to transfer to ordnance because the prospect for advancement looked better. While still ruminating on this change, he was offered a detail to the newly forming aviation section of the signal corps, and took it, not because he had a clear vision of the future, but because it looked like a chance to get ahead. Thus, almost inadvertently, he met the opportunity of which came his world fame.

This emphasizes another peculiar advantage belonging to the young officer who is trying to orient himself toward the line of greatest opportunity. In civil life, the man who flits from job to job is soon regarded as a drifter and unstable. In the military establishment an ability to adjust from job to job and to achieve greater all-around qualification by making a successful record in a diversified experience becomes a major asset in a career. Generalship, in its real sense, requires a wider knowledge of human affairs, supported by specialized knowledge of professional techniques, than any other great responsibility. Those who get to the top have to be many-sided men, with skill in the control and guidance of a multifarious variety of activities. Therefore even the young specialist, who has his eyes on a narrow track because his talents seem to lie in that direction, is well advised to raise his sights and extend his interest to the far horizons of the profession, even while directing the greater part of his force to a particular field.

After all, variety is the spice of life, as well as a high road toward perfection. Of Princeton's 1932 class, 161, or 59 percent, were in the armed services during World War II. Questioned after the war 70 percent of the total number replied that military service was interesting, broadening, and profitable. But the main point was that they said in overwhelming number that its great lure was that they were doing something new. They liked it because it gave them a legitimate excuse to quit their jobs and attempt something different. In the services, a man may give vent to this natural desire without impairing his record, and if he is young and not at all certain what is his favorite dish, the more he broadens his experience, the more likely it becomes that he will sharpen his view of his own capabilities.

The possible hard consequence of looking at service opportunity through any one lens is epitomized in one paragraph of a reclassification proceedings on an officer relieved during World War II while serving as assistant division commander:

"Through no fault of his own, General Blank has never served with troops since he was a captain during World War I. He has been unable to keep pace with the problems of a commander on the battlefield of today. He is unqualified for command of troops due to lack of practical experience."

It is hard to imagine a more dismal ending for a career than that of the man who aspires to rank, without having any honest concept of its proportionate moral responsibilities, particularly when the lives of others are at stake.

So when we say that "career planning" is a springboard to personal success within the military establishment, it is not with the narrow meaning that any officer should proceed to limit his field of interest, decide quickly and arbitrarily where he will put his plow and run his furrow, and then sit down and plot a schedule of how he proposes to mount the success ladder rung by rung. That might suit a plumber, or tickle the fancy of an interior decorator, but it will not conserve the strength of the officer corps. Its consequence would be to stereotype the thinking faculties of a professional whose inner power flows from the questing imagination, eager curiosity and versatility of its individuals. Intense specialization, to the exclusion of all peripheral areas of knowledge, warps the mind and limits the useful action and influence of its owner. Dr. Vannevar Bush was a greater scientist on the day he made his decision to explore the sphere of military knowledge, and greater still when he applied himself to literature.

There are few men of great talent who initially have an unswerving inner conviction that they possess the final answer, as to themselves. They may feel reasonably sure about what they would like to do, though still reserving an honest doubt about the validity of their instincts and of their power to compete. Even long and successful experience does not always allay this doubt. Said Washington, on being appointed Commander-in-Chief: "I beg it may be remembered by every man in this room that I this day declare with the utmost sincerity, I do not think myself equal to the command I am honored with." Assurance, or by its other name, self-confidence, is only a continuing willingness to keep coming back and trying, without fear of coming a cropper, but with a care to the constant strengthening of one's own resources. The motto of Admiral Robert E. Peary: "I will find a way or make one," is not over-bold; any officer can afford to paste the words inside his own hat. But in the hard game with which Peary's fame is forever linked, there were countless errors, an occasional hit, and at last a run.

The health and progressive spirit of the services come of the many-sided officer who can make not one career for himself but three or four. Had officers from all services been unwilling to go into the industrial workshops and scientific laboratories of the Nation to try their hands at wholly new lines of work, had successful cavalrymen been unable to evolve as leaders of armored forces, had ship captains and ensigns disdained taking to the air, had foot soldiers refused the risks of parachuting and naval officers not participated as observers with the infantry line to further SFC (ship fire control) we would have run out of wind before winning World War II.

Some months after the war ended, the Secretary of the Navy, recognizing the dilemma which confronted thousands of men who were asking whether the wave of the future would be to the specialist or to the all-around man, sent a message which applied not less to the officers of every service:

It is intended that the highest posts will be filled by officers of the highest attainments, regardless of specialty. Be assured, whatever may be your field of endeavor, that your future as an officer rests, as it always has, in your hands. The outstanding officer will continue to be he who attacks with all of his energy and enthusiasm the tasks to which he is assigned and who grows in stature and understanding with his years and with his experience. Responsibility comes to him who seeks responsibility. It is this officer, regardless of his field of effort, who will be called to high command.

There is not a chief of service who would shade the general tone of this paragraph if asked to put before his own officers the one rule which, most closely followed, would most surely bring success. Nothing need be added to it and nothing should be taken away; it states the case.

At the same time, and as the message itself implies, specialization, like sex and the automobile, is here to stay. In the service, perforce, even the balanced, all-around man has his specialty. In the beginning, true enough, he may aspire only to being a soldier, marine, sailor or airman. That is good enough in the cocoon stage. But ultimately he emerges with the definite coloring of a ground fighter, a gunner, an engineer officer, a signals man, a submariner, a weapons man, a navigator, an observer, a transport officer or something else. If his tact, bearing and quick pick-up suggest to his superiors that he may be good staff material, and he takes that route, there are again branch lines, leading out in roughly parallel directions, and embracing activities in the fields of personnel, intelligence, operations, supply and military government. And each one of these main stems has smaller branches, greatly diversified. The man with a love for logistics (and few have it) might some day find himself running railroads or managing a port. The engineer could become a salvage officer working a crew of deep sea divers, or as easily a demolitions expert running a company of dynamiters. The expert in communications? His next task might be setting up a radio station near the North Pole or helping perfect radio control of troops over a 50-mile area.

It is in these things that the privilege of free choice arises, for despite the popular theory that in the services you take what you are given and like it, the placement of officers according to their main aptitudes and desires is a controlling principle of personnel policy. It is recognized throughout the military establishment that, in general, men will do their best service in that field where they think their natural talents are being most usefully employed.

Among the combat line commanders in World War II there were doctors, dentists and even a few ministers. They could have had places in their regular corps, but they were permitted to continue with the duty of their own choice.

Concerning the main problem of the officer, in fitting himself for higher command, the controlling principle is well expressed in the words of a distinguished educator, Wallace B. Donham: "The hope of the wisdom essential to the general direction of men's affairs lies not so much in wealth of specialized knowledge as in the habits and skills required to handle problems involving very diverse viewpoints which must be related to new concrete situations. Wisdom is based on broad understanding in perspective. It is common sense on a large canvas. It is never the product of scientific, technological, or other specializations, though men so trained may, of course, acquire it."

This puts just the right light on the subject. The military officer specializes strictly to qualify himself more highly in his main calling—the management of men in the practice of arms. Becoming a specialist does not ipso facto make him a better officer, or win him preferment. It is part of the mechanism, though not the main wheel. As Admiral Forrest P. Sherman has so well said: "We are not pushed willy-nilly into specialization; there is never an excess of the all-around, highly competent combat officer."

Concerning his choice, all general advice is gratuitous. Whatever might be written here would be worth far less than the counsel or suggestion of any superior, or for that matter, a colleague, who has observed his work closely over a long period, who has some critical faculty, and whose good will is beyond question.

Particularly, the voluntary advice of such a person is worth notice. That which is spontaneous usually has shrewd reason behind it. When counsel is deliberately sought, it may catch the consultant unaware, and in lieu of saying that which is well-considered, he may offer a half-baked opinion, rather than be disappointing. But when another person having one's trust, says: "Your natural line is to do thus-and-so," it is time to ask him why, and check his reasoning with one's own. Worth just as much earnest consideration is his negative opinion, his strong feeling that what one is about to undertake is not particularly suitable.

As for the man himself, it remains to survey thoughtfully the whole range of possibilities, to keep the mind open and receptive to impressions, to experiment but take firm hold in so doing, to tackle each new task with as much enthusiasm as if it were to be his life work, to ask for difficult assignments rather than soft snaps and to be calmly deliberate, rather than rashly hasteful, in appraising his own capabilities.

Self-study is a lifetime job. A great many engineers didn't realize that they were born to make nuclear fission possible until there was a three-way wedding between science, industry and the military in 1940. Many officers who have had a late blooming as experts in the field of electronics and supersonic speeds had lived out successful careers before these subjects first saw daylight.

As Elbert Hubbard said of it, the only way to get away from opportunity is to lie down and die.