There is a saying that people are
fond of, and it is almost totally false: ‘Rise to the Occasion.’ The truth is, with very few exceptions,
people don’t rise to the occasion, they fall back to the occasion, in the sense
that when things become tense and difficult they will fall back on their
training and mental and physical conditioning, on what they have learned and
how they have been taught to act.
Even in the event of a single individual who acts with great courage
under extreme circumstances, the odds are that there was some training, some
conditioning that took place that led him to be that way. Whether from his parents or a teacher
or a coach, someone planted and nurtured a seed that had matured and was present
when he stumbled into what Teddy Roosevelt called ‘his crowded hour.’ This is particularly true among
groups. Thus, when Marines hear
gunfire and immediately head towards the firefight it is because that is the
sum-total of their training. And
it is a testimony to their leaders who have instilled this response –
particularly in a group where the fear of one individual can engender nearly
universal panic.
And so, when you see groups of
men acting heroically, it is well to take note, and ask yourself some questions
on the leadership that produced such men.
All of which came to mind the
other day – July 30th – the 68th anniversary of one of
the great tragedies in the history of the US Navy.
For most of America it is an
event that they know of only because of that greatest of all summer movies:
“Jaws” and the character Quint (played by the inestimable Robert Shaw) who
recounts the story – a true story that fit well into the movie - behind one
scar on his arm, one that he got from removing a tattoo.
The Tattoo in question was the
USS INDIANAPOLIS, a heavy cruiser built in the 1930s and which served as
flagship for Admiral Spruance through much of World War II. In the spring of 1945 it went back to
California for some repairs, and then carried to Tinian key components of the
atomic bomb that was dropped on Hiroshima. On July 30th, shortly after midnight INDIANAPOLIS
was torpedoed and sank in less than 20 minutes, probably less than 10, though
exact numbers are obviously hard to come by.
Of the 1196 men onboard, between
900 and 1000 made it into the water.
Because of some egregious breakdowns in command and control and
oversight the ship was not reported as missing for 4 days, and the men in the
water were spotted more by serendipity then anything else. Most of the men in the water were
actually in the water, with only a lifejacket, presenting nothing much more
than little black dots in the water – the black dots because their heads were
covered in oil that spilled from their ship as she sank. The aircraft that spotted them had been
sent out to look for them, but having witnessed, and participated at least
tangentially in, a number of rescues at sea, spotting people in the water is
seemingly impossible – much harder then it would seem, or as it is portrayed in
movies and the like.
By the time ships moved in to
pick them up, only 317 men were pulled from the sea, one of whom died shortly
after being rescued. Thus, of the
1196 men aboard ship, 880 died, and somewhere ‘north’ of 600 died after getting
safely off the ship. To compound
it, the Navy then engaged in a witch-hunt to blame someone, and ended up
pinning the blame on the Captain, Charles B. McVay, rather than accept blame
for what was a monumental error and tragedy. Captain McVay is the only man in the history of the US Navy
to have been court-martialed and for losing a ship during war. (The US Navy lost more than 700 ships
during WWII, only Captain McVay was court-martialed). I read somewhere, and I
don’t know the veracity of this comment, that he was the only man – among both
the allies or the axis powers – who was court-martialed during WWII for losing
his ship in combat.
It is a long and complicated
story and I encourage everyone to spend a few minutes researching it, because
the real story is in the heroism and courage and leadership of the men in the
water. I was fortunate to know one
of them: Captain (then LCDR) Lewis Haynes, the ship’s surgeon, and the senior
officer with the largest single group of survivors in the 4+ days in the ocean.
Captain Haynes was a good friend
of my father, and I remember him visiting when I was young – but old enough to
understand what he was saying. He
didn’t speak about it much, and in fact I only remember one time that he told
us the whole story, and I can see him to this day sitting in our den, quietly
telling the story, trying to hold back the emotion. He was one of the finest men and finest officers I ever
met. What I have learned since
then is that the quality of leadership that had been shown by the officers and
chiefs of INDIANAPOLIS is central to their incredible performance in their long
purgatory in the ocean.
The lessons that stand out among
all others – and they apply to any and every organization that is trying to
achieve great things or be ready for any situation: you must train your people
as hard as you can, you must set high standards and maintain them, and most
importantly, no matter how high the standards, the senior leadership must
adhere to even higher standards – of both performance and behavior.
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