By the time I was a freshman at West Point, it was late 2006 and early 2007, and Iraq was on fire. Seemingly every day at lunch, a booming voice over the loudspeakers would announce the death of another graduate, and a moment of silence would fall over all 4,000 of us in the mess hall. It looked like a war that was going to last for 30 years, so wanting to be useful, I chose to major in Arabic and set my sights on being in the infantry. If I was going to Iraq, I wanted to be with guys that volunteered fully knowing they would be in combat, and I wanted to be able to speak with the locals I would be forced to operate with.
For the entire four years at West Point, four months of the Infantry Officers Basic Course, and 61 days of Ranger School I imagined what it would finally be like to step in front of a platoon and lead it. It had been drummed into me since day one that your first platoon sergeant would be your advisor, mentor, trusted confidant, and best friend when the times got really tough. I was so anxious about meeting my first platoon sergeant, it almost had the feeling of an arranged marriage, but one that I was looking forward to.
When I got to my battalion, within an hour of walking up to the staff duty desk, the Battalion Commander told me I was going to get a platoon the next day. I met my Company Commander, who told me a platoon had just opened up, and that I would be getting the highest performing set of Non-Commissioned Officer (NCO) squad leaders, and the most respected platoon sergeant in the battalion. I could not have been more excited.
The next morning in the Commander’s office, I was introduced to Staff Sergeant Bobby Bales. Expecting a barrel-chested freedom fighter like he was described, I was slightly thrown off when I was looking down at a guy that looked like he was old enough to be my dad. He was in his late 30’s, kind of short, appeared to be a little overweight, and had a goofy smile.
Whatever reservations I had about his physical capabilities were gone after the first morning of PT. He took the platoon on a 6-mile run (along his favorite run route at Fort Lewis, a path we would take many more times after this), and once we were done insisted to continue smoking them until everyone else in the brigade was off the PT field. Initially I thought he was doing it just to see if the PL would fall out, but no, that’s just how he was. He drove the platoon hard in everything, because that was his personality.
Bobby had a reputation in 2-3 Infantry that was unrivaled. He had been in the battalion since the first Iraq deployment, in 2003. He had done three Iraq tours in the same company, holding a combat leadership position the entire time, never rotating out for recruiting or drill sergeant duty. After serving as the Battalion Sniper Section Sergeant for a year, he came down to the line for his platoon sergeant time. He was a senior E6 (Staff Sergeant). By the time I came to the unit, he had been the platoon sergeant for a year and had not been picked up for promotion by the Sergeant First Class board, something that frustrated him.
Everyone in 2-3 knew and respected Bobby. He had the right combination of everything you would want in a solid NCO. He was tactically and technically proficient, an expert on marksmanship and MOUT from his years of deployments and sniper training. He was physically tough, leading the platoon every single day in PT, maxing his PT test every time, and grinding through old injuries he had sustained as a college football player and from just being a dude in his late 30s.
Where Bobby really shined though was in how much he cared about his subordinates. He really believed in the power of leadership, and was fully committed to their wellbeing on and off duty. He was 100% invested in their growth and their safety. I could not have been more pleased with my good fortune at receiving a high performing platoon sergeant and equally impressive squad leaders.
When we got word that were slated for a deployment, I was elated. I was going to do what I dreamed of doing, lead men in combat, with a stellar platoon sergeant. It was a dream come true.
To be continued in Part II: Bobby and me and a semester abroad
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