Col. Daniel Moy, USAF
During his 1962 farewell speech to West Point, General Douglass MacArthur asserted there was an essential noble quality about the profession of arms: “The soldier, above all other men,” MacArthur noted, “is required to practice the greatest act of religious training—sacrifice.” For the military professional, selflessness is a distinction that reaches an uncommon extreme—unlimited liability, the willingness to give one’s all in the defense of the Constitution.[1] Although there is no one more desiring of peace than the servicemember in harm’s way, that sense of commitment undergirds the profession of arms and the countless sacrifices made by military members and their families; over the course of a career, the cumulative toll can be immeasurable. For this reason, the calling of military service is a noble one, and the citizens of the United States continue to view their military as one of the nation’s most respected and cherished institutions. “However horrible the incidents of war may be,” MacArthur observed, “the soldier who is called upon to offer and to give his life for his country, is the noblest development of mankind.”
The connection between nobility of purpose and the profession of arms came into sharp focus for me during a deployment to Afghanistan in 2008-2009. For nine months on the ground, I had the privilege of commanding a Provincial Reconstruction Team (PRT) in a beleaguered province, Paktya, a rugged, mountainous area along the Pakistan border. Our PRT consisted of nearly a hundred Air Force, Army, and civilian personnel representing a range of expertise, from civil engineers and civil affairs officers to governance and development advisers. Our mission was to provide assistance to the institutions of the Afghan government and counter the efforts of insurgent actors seeking to undermine the legitimacy and capability of local leaders in providing security and services to a population of some 500,000, many of whom resided in remote tribal areas controlled by terrorist elements. Bar none, over the course of my 23 years of military service, the best lessons I’ve received on the profession of arms came from observing the commitment and sacrifice of the airmen and soldiers under my command in Paktya province.
What really spoke to me in the example of these exemplary military professionals was the connection between noble purpose and individual character; each one of them stood ready to perform their duties in the face of hardship because of who they were at the core of things. There’s nothing like the stress of a six-hour mounted combat patrol along a dusty, mountainous road in eastern Afghanistan and the threat of an Improvised Explosive Device (IED) or ambush emplacement along the way to challenge one’s resolve and commitment to the mission. Executing these patrols repeatedly over the course of several months spoke volumes about the character of these airmen and soldiers. For many of the members on my team, especially those who had never sat in a gunner’s turret or operated a Mine Resistant, Ambush Protected (MRAP) vehicle before, this environment “outside the wire” was unlike any they had previously experienced. Frankly, the same could also be said of me since I had logged all of my previous combat support time in the Air Force from a cockpit 30,000 feet above the battlefield.
Heading into the summer months of 2009, enemy attacks against Afghan and Coalition forces were on the rise. Across the twelve American PRTs, one of our sister units in Panjshir province suffered the sudden loss of four team members, including the unit commander during a vehicle-borne IED attack on one of their convoys. The tragedy hit all of us hard, and was particularly difficult for me since the PRT commander was a personal friend of mine, someone I had recently worked with in the Pentagon. The two of us had in fact volunteered together and formed a strong bond over the course of our training and deployment. Within a week of the Panjshir attack, my own unit suffered a serious blow when an ambush caught one of our convoys traveling back from Bagram Air Base one evening. The ensuing enemy fire took out one of our vehicles and left the driver severely wounded—only the quick action of his fellow teammates saved the soldier’s life. About two weeks later, I’ll never forget how that same soldier managed to render me a salute from his post-trauma recovery room at Walter Reed, signaling his steadfast commitment to the PRT members still deployed in Afghanistan. That soldier and his dear wife and family will forever bear witness to the cost of noble purpose and the profession of arms.
The most vivid illustration of the connection between individual character and noble purpose came during the last week of our nine-month deployment. One of our responsibilities was to prepare the follow-on team to take our place. The new cadre would require the benefit of our experience to know how to mitigate the risk to their own personnel—understand which mountain passes and turns in the road presented the likeliest setup for an ambush or IED attack. One such familiarization mission posed a significant risk to my personnel and the inbound team, an arduous eight-hour convoy patrol into one of the most hostile sectors of our mission area. Along with the responsibility of executing the mission was the awareness that our nine-month deployment was nearly over—freedom from the stress of mounted combat patrols and the welcome embrace of loved ones were right around the corner. And yet, duty compelled my team to face the ever-present risk of an insurgent attack one more time. I could not have been more proud of my team. Once the decision was made, they suited up and executed the arduous mission flawlessly, confident in their training and preparation—and most importantly, armed with the confidence derived from a sense of noble purpose—“if the job was easy, they would have sent someone else to do it—but they sent us, the United States military.” I’ll never forget that sentiment which characterized the spirit of my team as they painstakingly executed their mission.
As The Airman’s Creed affirms, the American Airman is a warrior who has answered the nation’s call, “faithful to a proud heritage, a tradition of honor, and a legacy of valor.” The phrase “I Am” precedes each of its five sections, emphasizing the degree to which the profession of arms has more to do with who we are than what we do—or better said, that virtuous character ultimately forms the essential foundation for noble action.[2] It speaks to our guiding principles—integrity, service, excellence—the things that motivate us to take up the mantle of service and sacrifice to defend the nation, even to the extent of laying down life and limb for the airman next to us.[3] Aristotle noted that character is “that which reveals choice, shows what sort of thing a man chooses or avoids in circumstances where the choice is not obvious . . .”[4] Raising one’s hand and taking the oath of commission or enlistment may happen in a single moment, but loyalty to core values is something we exercise across the countless small choices we make every day as members of the profession of arms. Our commitment, “service before self,” elevates the needs of the nation, the Service and our fellow airmen above our own interests. This noble purpose ranks among the most essential and distinctive attributes of the profession of arms.
[1] I am grateful to Dr. Albert C. Pierce, Professor of Ethics and National Security at National Defense University for his insight on the nature of unlimited liability as one of the distinct qualities of the Profession of Arms.
[2] For further discussion on the association of identity and the creeds of the military services, see Ann E. Rondeau, “Identity in the Profession of Arms,” Joint Forces Quarterly 62 (3rd Qtr, 2011), 10-13.
[3] For further discussion, see The Armed Forces Officer (NDU Press, 2007), 12.
1 comment:
nicely done.
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