Everything in life comes down to timing.
One of the most impactful and meaningful books for a junior field-grade officer to read is the late Peter Schifferle’s “America’s School for War,” published in 2010. Unfortunately for me, when it went to print, I was already on the cusp of pinning on my eagles as a colonel. As I read it – something I relished after knowing him for more than a decade – I was inundated with thoughts of, “I wish I had known this … 10 years ago.”
Pete, long known for digging around his office and querying someone with, “Have you read this?” finally had a book of his own. I keep my copy on my desk at work, signed by Pete years ago. Now, whenever I meet an energetic young field-grade officer, I hold up Pete’s and ask them, “Have you read this?”
It only seems right.
The Iron Major YEARS
On the surface, the term “Iron Major” sounds pretty cool. It invokes the firmness of metal, the resolve of tempered steel, the sheen of a polished blade. In reality, it’s a reference to the enormous weight of responsibility you carry on your back. You need to have a spine cast from iron to bear the burdens that await you.
Years ago, I was cajoled into writing a short article about the best officer ranks in the military. Guess what? The Iron Major years were not high on that list. “The competition was a lot stiffer, and for the first time I encountered officers who would lie, cheat, and steal to get ahead. Welcome to the Iron Major years. What doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger, right?”
I spent my first two years as an Iron Major in school: first in the Army’s Command and General Staff College, then in the School of Advanced Military Studies. My first true Iron Major assignment was as the chief of logistics planning for the 101st Airborne Division. The fact that the tour coincided with the 9/11 attacks and the aftermath ensured that the burden was sufficiently heavy to leave a lasting impression. The next two years were spent at the brigade level and included deploying for the invasion that I’d spent the previous year planning.
When I returned to Fort Leavenworth – thankfully, not for the long tour – I carried with me the lessons of those years as an Iron Major. I had both failed and succeeded as a junior field-grade officer. I had scar tissue, as we like to say. The experiences – both good and bad – served to provide five foundational tenets for success.
Integration
As a field-grade officer, you are a key member of the staff, and the one most responsible for keeping the organization combat-ready. That means being an integral part of the command team, not a wallflower who shows up for the weekly maintenance meeting. Get involved and stay involved.
Anticipation
More so than anyone else, the Iron Major is responsible for anticipating the needs of the organization and ensuring they are proactively met. If you’re reacting to circumstances, you are robbing the commander of vital combat power and lethality.
Flexibility
Those same circumstances rarely unfold as planned, so a good field grade officer must build flexibility into any plan: options, alternatives, backups. The last thing you want to hear in the midst of execution is, “You have a Plan B, right?”
Dependability
Trust is essential between echelons and across the organization. The Iron Major is the critical link in those relationships. We’ve all heard horror stories about how trust broke down because of a lack of dependability – your job is to make sure that doesn’t happen.
Orchestration
Probably the most underrated job of an Iron Major is orchestra director. A successful field grade officer manages multiple tasks simultaneously – and, like an orchestra director, all the instruments have to be playing in harmony. Effective, efficient execution is music to the ear.
Beyond the Iron
Years later, I described those years as “deeply rewarding.” In truth, they were more rewarding in retrospect; at the time, they didn’t always feel particularly rewarding. Exhausting might be a better term. But they didn’t kill me. They made me stronger. And maybe a little wiser.
As I reflected on those years, one skill stood out to me more than others: influence. As an Iron Major, you really don’t possess a lot in terms of authority. You’re not typically commanding anything. You’re a staff officer. And even if you’re the senior staff member in the organization, you’re still not technically in charge of much. That means you have to rely on influence.
I learned a lot about the subject reading “Influence Without Authority,” the book by Allen Cohen and David Bradford. The book was required reading by my three-star boss in 2008 and confirmed much of what I had experienced. Fortunately, most of the lessons conveyed in their book were already logged away for posterity in my ubiquitous green notebook.
1. Authority is not the same as influence.
That seems obvious on the surface, but as an Iron Major, you rely heavily on your ability to influence since you rarely have the formal authority or power to compel people to cooperate.
2. Everyone operates on a currency system.
The secret sauce to effective influence is building a bank of goodwill. That goodwill is currency. It makes people want to work with you. That’s influence you can’t buy with authority.
3. Treat every potential ally as a partner.
Influence is about creating win-win scenarios – forging common ground through reciprocity. That kind of strategic approach builds influence.
4. Build relationships before asks.
Cohen and Bradford emphasize the need to establish shared goals and objectives with your allies. Leaders who jump right into selling what they want often find themselves without any influence at all. Trust is broken before it’s established.
5. Question your assumptions.
We often restrain our own ability to build influence by allowing flawed assumptions about people to get our way. Instead of acting on those assumptions, test them. Take time to work through them.
The final piece of advice for the new Iron Major? Keep a sense of humor handy. You’re going to need it. When it’s midnight and you’re juggling five tasks and drop all of the balls at once, you learn to laugh it off and pick up the pieces.
