Confession s of a [Once] Artillery Lieutenant.

It has been said that a wise man learns from his mistakes, but a wiser man learns from the mistakes of others. I want to confess three mistakes I made as a young artillery officer long ago (now that the statute of limitations has run out), in the hopes that others will learn from them. The errors I made were the result of immaturity, ignorance and arrogance. But as the Good Book says, let he who is without sin cast the first stone.

Mistake 1: Borne of Immaturity. After my officer's basic course at Fort Sill, Oklahoma, in. 1963, I was assigned to a Field Artillery battalion in Germany. I was young and eager, ready to learn all about the Field Artillery and anxious to do a good job. To help prepare myself, I read a book about another young artillery officer, one Napoleon Bonaparte, to see if there were things that made him a success that I could employ in my career. One of the things the book said was that Napoleon liked to take very hot baths because it relaxed him and cleared his mind. I took very hot baths for a couple of months, but all I got was clean.

I next read a book about General George Patton called Ordeal and Triumph. It is a great biography that I recommend to everyone, young or old. General Patton seemed to be the perfect warrior and the perfect role model for me. Well, it didn't take long for me to realize I was wrong. He was a perfect role model, but not for me. General Patton was a Type A, extroverted, charismatic, natural-born leader; on the other hand, I was a Type B, introverted, noncharismatic, school-trained leader. Even if I wore pearl-handled .45s and carried a swagger stick, I never could be like Patton.

The mistake I made was trying to be somebody I was not, something none of us can do successfully. As leaders, we have to be ourselves and develop our own style. Certainly, we can learn from reading about and observing great military leaders, but we really cannot copy them. Many great military leaders are charismatic, natural-born leaders, but most of us are not. We are leaders because the Army needs leaders and has selected and trained us for that role.

If we remember our training and use it, we can be effective leaders because (1) Setting the example works, (2) Setting and enforcing high standards works, (3) Focusing on the mission and taking care of soldiers works, and (4) Adhering to Army values works.

By the time we finish our officer's basic courses, we non-charismatic leaders will have been taught everything we need to know to make us good leaders. How we use what we have been taught determines whether or not we blossom into outstanding leaders. My advice -- just be yourself and apply your training.

Mistake 2: Borne of Ignorance. I was the battalion communications officer, responsible for the battalion's AM and FM radio nets and wire communications. One day I was in the S2's office bellyaching about the low GT scores of a new group of wiremen. "How was I supposed to communicate with such poorly qualified men?" I asked the S2. The S2 sergeant, Master Sergeant Baldas, a World War II veteran, overheard my complaints and said respectfully, "Well, Lieutenant, you can say what you will, but the American soldier has fought a lot of wars, and properly led, they have never let us down."

That stopped me short because I realized he was right--our soldiers never have let us down, even in many cases when they were not particularly well led. I never complained about the quality of my soldiers again. And, as it turned out, those wiremen never let me down, and we had great communications throughout the battalion.

I think Sergeant Baldas' putting me in my place helped shape my philosophy about blame and credit. When a unit I led did something well, whether it was my communications platoon in Germany, ammunition company in Vietnam or brigade in the US Army Reserves, I tried to give as much credit as possible to the junior officers and enlisted personnel--in most cases, they deserved it. But when things went wrong, I assumed responsibility in public and made corrections in private.

My philosophy is that if anything goes wrong, it is because of one or more of three errors: (1) I had not properly trained my soldiers, so they did not know better; (2) I had not effectively communicated what I wanted, so how would they know? (3) I had not properly supervised the execution of my orders, so how could I expect better results?

The teaching point here is don't underestimate your soldiers; give them the opportunity and then full credit when they make you look good. And don't forget you ultimately are responsible for everything the unit does and especially responsible for anything your unit fails to do. If you look for someone to blame when things go wrong, look first in the mirror.

Mistake 3: Borne of Arrogance. My third mistake was the most serious mistake because it could have gotten people killed. As a junior, unmarried artillery lieutenant, I often was given the opportunity to serve as a safety officer, not only for the firing batteries in our battalion, but for our sister battalions as well. Being a safety officer meant more time in the field at Grafen woehr and Wildflecken, both of which could be extremely unpleasant in the wintertime. But serving as safety officer broke the monotony of garrison duty.

I took the job seriously and conscientiously tried to be the best safety officer in V Corps Artillery. I was pleased on more than one occasion when another battalion commander would call my battalion commander and compliment "my hustle."

One very cold January day, I was working with the 4th Battalion, 18th Field Artillery, a 155-mm self-propelled battalion at Grafenwoehr. It was one of those bone-chilling cold days--so cold that steaming hot coffee or hot chocolate in your canteen cup almost froze before you could finish it. As always seemed to be the case, a fire mission came down just as the battery was serving supper. Anticipating such an event, I had finished eating early and was at the exec's post. Another battery had fired the adjustment, and our battery was to fire one volley for effect.

I began by checking Gun Number One on the far right of the firing line, then raced to Gun Number Two. When I got there, the round had been rammed home, but the gun was not ready to fire because there was only an assistant gunner on the piece. In those days, the gunner sat on the right side of the tube and set the elevation, and the assistant gunner set the deflection on the other side. Both had to be set simultaneously for the round to be properly aimed.

As a safety officer, I had seen elevations set many times, so I told the sergeant, no sweat, that I would set the elevation and he could set the deflection. I did my part, announced, "Ready," and he said, "Set." I declared the gun safe and raced to the next one. When I had "safed" all six guns in the battery, the mission was fired, and I caught my breath as I ambled back to the exec's post.

The executive officer (XO) was a friend of mine from our officer's basic course, a good guy from the University of Southern Mississippi. He asked me what happened on Gun Number Two. I asked him what he meant, and he said, "When I looked down the firing line just before firing, Number Two didn't look right, so I had it re-checked. It was 100 mils too low."

My stomach tightened and my legs felt like mush. I knew that a 100-mil error would have caused the round to land well short of the impact area. In fact, the round probably would not have cleared the ridge between the firing position and the impact area, and on the ridge were a well-traveled road and observation posts.

I had not followed the correct procedures, but, luckily, the XO had. He remembered his training, and that caused him to give the firing line one last visual check before giving the fire command, and he saw the problem. When I got to Gun Number Two, I should have called the XO and told him either to take Number Two out of the mission or get a gunner on it. But I was trying to be helpful and do someone else's job--a job I wasn't qualified to do, even though I had observed it being done many times.

Army schools teach us that every Army unit has certain capabilities and certain limitations. The same applies to us as individuals. We all have capabilities and limitations, and being able to recognize and accept our limitations is almost as important as being able to fully exploit our capabilities.

I made the serious mistake of thinking that just because I was a good safety officer, I could be a good gunner. In my arrogance, I failed to appreciate that my lack of training was a severe and dangerous limitation. The XO did his job and, in so doing, probably saved lives and certainly saved my career.

Conclusion. Were these the only mistakes I made as a young officer? Hardly. I could go on and on, such as the time I brought an entire command post exercise (CPX) to a halt because I had the corps commander, the corps artillery commander and our group commander lost in a snow-covered forest.

Right now you are probably wondering how I got promoted to First Lieutenant, much less Brigadier General. Generally, I found the Army tolerant of mistakes made in good faith by officers trying to learn to do a good job. The only people who didn't make mistakes were those who didn't do anything, and the Army recognized that. The term "Zero Defects" must be purged permanently from the Army's lexicon.

You will make mistakes, you will see mistakes made by your fellow officers, and you have read and laughed at some of mine. My advise is don't dwell on mistakes. Learn from your mistakes, "shake them off" and get on to the next task. And learn from the mistakes of your comrades--you will be all the wiser for it.

Brigadier General Richard F. Allen, US Army Reserves (USAR), retired in 1993 after starting out as a Lieutenant in the Field Artillery in 1963. He earned his Juris Doctorate in 1973 from the University of Alabama Law School and now serves as Chief Deputy Attorney General for the State of Alabama. He started as a battery and battalion staff officer in the 2d Battalion, 83d Field Artillery, part of the 212th Field Artillery Group, V Corps, in Germany. He commanded the 148th Ordnance Company (Ammunition) and the Headquarters and Headquarters Company of the 53d General Support Group, both in Vietnam. He also served as Commander of the 375th Theater Army Support Group (USAR), Montgomery, and as Commanding General of the 3d Transportation Brigade (USAR),Anniston, both in Alabama. He is a graduate of the Army War College, Carlisle Barracks, Pennsylvania. In May, Brigadier General Allen was inducted into the Ordnance Corps Hall of Fame, Aberdeen Proving Ground, Maryland.