As an Army, we praise leaders who put their needs behind the needs of an organization. We encourage the “Leaders Eat Last” mentality in which good leaders give all they have for the betterment of the team. We reinforce the notion that good leaders are the last to go to bed and the first to wake up. They are the first in the office and the last to leave. They sacrifice their time, energy, and resources for the team. In Simon Sinek’s book, he explains that great leaders “understand that the true cost of the leadership privilege comes at the expense of self-interest.” However, can a leader take that too far? When does a servant leader become a liability to the team?
Mission First, Self Last
I have always admired humble leaders. The silent professionals with an incredible work ethic. Those who keep their head down and serve the people on their team. Those who want their organization to receive the praise, not themselves. These are the leadership qualities I value the most and the qualities I adopted as a junior officer.
This was my mentality when I began planning the U.S. Army Alaska Denali Expedition 2021. Like most opportunities in the Army, this was an additional responsibility and could not distract from my primary position. During the winter of 2020-2021, I served as the Instructor Officer at the Northern Warfare Training Center (NWTC). This was an exceptional winter because the release of the Army’s Arctic Strategy reinvigorated the Army’s focus on cold weather training. Those of us working at NWTC found ourselves at the heart of the demand for that training.
It also happened to be the first winter where we learned to train despite the challenges of the COVID-19 pandemic. Balancing the demanding course load of cold weather training for units across the Army with the task of planning and executing an expedition of the tallest peak in North America, I was spread thin but determined to succeed. The demands of the job and the well-being of the team became my entire focus.
Preparing for Northern Warfare Training
To meet the demand for cold weather training and prepare for the expedition, we spent most of the winter in the field. Located 134 miles from home, the barracks at the NWTC training facility at Black Rapids, Alaska, became home. At a time when much of the Army worked from home and COVID risk mitigation policies limited training to squad size formations, NWTC cadre lived at Black Rapids for two weeks every month, training 150 students from units across Alaska.
Before every course, all students and cadre isolated for seven days to reduce the risk of a COVID outbreak. Due to the frequency of the courses, when our team was not in the field, we were at home in isolation, preparing for the next course. Between October 2020 and April 2021, our team had a total of six days where we were not in the field or in an isolation status.
For those of us simultaneously training for the expedition, this meant even more time in the field. Immediately upon the graduation of a cold weather course, the expedition team would meet and conduct an additional five to ten days of training in the austere conditions of an interior Alaskan winter. By the end of January, burnout was a legitimate concern for the team. What I didn’t realize, I was also at risk.
When the Leader Becomes a Liability
By March, our team was in the “run” phase of training. We planned to spend seven days on a glacier rehearsing moving in avalanche terrain, crevasse rescue, establishing and sustaining camp, and if weather permitted, we planned to summit a nearby mountain. Our infill location was approximately a 20-minute drive south of the NWTC training facility and an eight-mile movement over glaciated terrain to reach our base camp location. From base camp, we were about five hours from the nearest hospital. This training required a comprehensive risk mitigation plan that we developed and implemented with discipline. We knew a mistake during training could mean the end of our hopes to complete the expedition.
We woke up early on day three of training. A high-pressure system meant crystal clear blue skies: ideal conditions for a summit attempt. But with these clear skies brought bitterly cold temperatures, creeping below -30 degrees Fahrenheit. We initiated movement early, equipped with the proper gear, water, and food to sustain ourselves. We navigated the steep terrain, making conscious route decisions to mitigate the risk of triggering an avalanche. However, wind conditions and avalanche danger made the final one thousand vertical feet too dangerous.
A Fateful Decision
We now faced a decision. Early in our training, we defined success not by reaching the summit but by conducting a safe climb. We developed a motto for training and the expedition; “we will not be distracted by the peak.” To us, this meant prioritizing the team’s safety rather than letting ourselves be blinded by the desire to reach the top. With this in mind, we decided to turn around.
However, when I reached base camp, I knew something wasn’t right. I struggled to get feeling back to my toes. There was no auxiliary heat in our tents; the closest artificial heat source would require hiking eight miles back to the main road and coordinating a ride back to the training site. In our arsenal to battle the cold, we used body heat and movement to increase heart rate and blood flow. We boiled snow to make hot water, we learned and listened to our bodies. Most importantly, we relied on our extreme cold weather gear and the knowledge of how to use it. I employed all of these tricks to remedy my situation, but by the next morning, it was clear; I showed early signs of frostbite.
What Went Wrong?
In an attempt to figure out what went wrong, we inspected my equipment and learned that my boots were unserviceable. The inside liner had disintegrated, leaving my toes susceptible to a cold weather injury. We decided that if I stayed out there to finish the training, I could damage my foot further and risk not being able to participate in the expedition. Two of my teammates volunteered to walk me out while the rest of the group remained at camp to continue training.
Not only was it embarrassing to have to be walked out of my own training event (of which I was responsible for the risk mitigation plan), I put my rope team at risk as they walked me out, 16 miles round trip across dangerous glaciated terrain with wind chill reaching -50 degrees Fahrenheit. I missed the remaining four training days and became a liability to the team. At the same time I wondered, “If I couldn’t handle seven days on the glacier, how would I handle up to 30 days on Denali?” I allowed requirements at work to distract from my personal preparation, putting the entire expedition at risk.
Three months later, we stood as a team at the top of the tallest peak in North America. Fortunately, my mistakes during training had not cost us the expedition. Instead, our realistic training prepared us for the harsh conditions we faced on Denali and provided us with the opportunity to fail before the mission. I learned from this failure and leveraged the experience to better prepare myself, and ultimately better prepare the team.
Application for Leaders
- Ensuring you are prepared isn’t selfish; it’s necessary. ‘Develops’ is a leader core competency that includes ‘prepares self.’ However, with competing priorities, it is easy to let your needs be put to the side. If you are not prepared (physically and mentally), you cannot give your team what they deserve.
- Risk mitigation should consider the leadership team. As leaders, we spend a lot of time considering the risk in our operations without considering the risk we might pose to the operation. If we do not give ourselves adequate time to prepare, we can inadvertently create blind spots in the risk mitigation plan.
- Know your limit. Every individual has a threshold, a limit to the amount of responsibility we can take on before something starts to fail. We invest in our jobs, we invest in our families, but we need to invest in ourselves. When you neglect yourself, you cannot fulfill your commitment to your obligations. You can’t give 100% to everything all of the time. You have to balance priorities and be able to recognize when you are spread too thin.
- Define success. Within your own teams and families, how do you measure success? Are you blind by your desire to reach the summit? Or is the well-being of the team paramount?
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