Boots on the Ground
How being a Marine taught me about the power of data, logistics and leadership.
I joined the Marine Corps right after high school. My friends thought I was crazy for enlisting. They reminded me of my problems with authority. They pointed out that if I struggled with teachers and football coaches, maybe joining the Marines wasn’t the best decision. But at eighteen, there’s something weirdly appealing about doing what’s least expected of you and being a little crazy.
As it turned out, due to my red-green color blindness, I could only choose from three options: infantry, bulk fuel, or logistics. Some of the best advice my dad ever gave me was if I wanted to join the Marines, I would have to choose an occupation that would be useful outside the military. So after graduating from basic training, I shipped off to Norfolk, Virginia for logistics basic school.
My military occupational specialty was as a Marine Corps Integrated Maintenance Management Specialist — or Pogue as the grunts would call it. In that role, I served as the interface between the supply chain network and frontline technicians that operated and maintained equipment necessary for the Marine Corps to achieve its mission. Basically, I was chosen to sit in an office and push papers around for 3.5 years until I got out of the Corps.
Fortunately for me, that’s not quite how it worked out. My time in service ended up being the best decision I ever made for my career.
My duty station in Camp Pendleton, California, was with the 3rd Assault Amphibious Battalion, which utilized Amphibious Assault vehicles, also known as Amtraks. Amtraks are tracked personnel carriers designed to bring troops from ships offshore to the shoreline and beyond (think D-Day landing crafts). These vehicles are unique to the Marine Corps, and there is a true sense of pride in the unit that “makes the Marine Corps amphibious.” The Marines are America’s only combined arms task force (meaning they fully connect air, land, and sea elements), and were it not for Amtraks, there would be no sea element.
In the late 90s, using data for supply chain management was very rudimentary. The 3rd Amtrak Battalion’s operational needs were processed using a DOS-based computer program called MIMMS AIS, written logbooks to track spending, and hundreds of thousands of sheets of carbon copy paper. We also still relied on the battalion’s first ever email system, which was “blue screen” and mostly used to send inappropriate jokes to others in the support group.
The system, considered adequate at the time, had major flaws in how data was used, as well as how it was deployed to the people who used it. Parts and equipment that were vital to mission accomplishment were late, unavailable, or lost due to flaws in data entry. The Amtrak might be ready to go on a field exercise on Monday, but the new fuel pump wouldn’t arrive until Friday because the 15 carbon copy sheets that it took to make the requisition had gotten lost in the five-foot-high piles of sheets sitting on the supply clerk’s desk. These vehicles, which brought such pride to the Marines that cared for them, were reduced to giant aluminum rafts because of a poorly executed supply chain management system. And the Marines waiting for transport, who weren’t enthusiastic about the idea of rowing the Amtraks to shore, would get antsy waiting for us to do our job.
This led to little trust in the system, and required work arounds with external documents and back channel “dealings” to keep the vehicles moving. Mechanics would order far more parts than they needed and hoard them in conex boxes, because who knew when the next shipment might come in. There was no control of inventory. It was a crapshoot what vehicle would be fixed and when. Having little to no faith in the system, technicians would not “waste time” with proper requisitions. Junior Marines would be tasked with walking around “the ramp” to barter and trade for parts.
I knew there had to be a better way. So I decided to act.
Looking back on it, I can’t believe the nerve of my eighteen-year-old self. I had the audacity to tell men who had fought in wars how to improve their system when the only thing I’d ever fought was the dough machine when I worked at the pizza restaurant. But it was the first time in my life that I cared for something enough to go out on a limb. It was also the first time I saw the potential of teamwork and organizational culture to bring out the best in people.
I started by developing new procedures and training courses that focused on improving the link between technicians and the information they needed to “run their business.” I worked with vehicle mechanics and crew chiefs to help them understand how the supply chain process functioned, and why following certain procedures would ultimately benefit them and their vehicles readiness. I also implemented a system that rewarded those who followed the process and applied “consequences” for those who didn’t.
These relatively simple changes increased the overall readiness of MEU platoons (up-time of the vehicles) to levels not seen before in the 3rd Amtrak Battalion. For these efforts, I was nominated for Marine of the Year for logistics and readiness by the commander of the 1st Marine Division. Still a teenager, I had received my first hands-on lesson in the crucial link that data and information play in the overall success of an elite organization.
But it wasn’t all roses.
Whether you’re dealing with a Marine battalion or a private sector organization, outsiders advocating for change are often met with resistance, either from those who are invested in the established system, or from those who simply don’t like the new guy telling them what to do. For me, the response of my leadership was key.
Master Sergeant William Wright was a former Drill Instructor and the closest living incarnation to Clint Eastwood’s “Gunny Highway” from Heart Breakridge I’ve ever come across. Top Wright, as he was known, was the hardest Marine in 3rd Amtrak Battalion — and he was my boss. We shared an office. His desk was positioned so that all day long, he stared at my ear. It didn’t take long for him to connect my last name, Funfar, to my new nickname — “FUBAR.”
Top Wright rode my ass from the first day I walked into “his office.” FUBAR did you shave today? FUBAR put some frickin’ polish on those boots! FUBAR tell the platoon we’re going to PT in boots & uti’s today because your trousers haven’t seen an iron since Chesty was born.
But there was also: “Oh, and FUBAR, don’t let any of those Crew Monkeys give you any shit. You were brought here to help unfuck our paperwork BS and I’ll support anything you need to do. Just don’t come crying to me every day about stupid shit — I’ve got a maintenance platoon to run here.”
As intimidating as it was to “share” Top Wright’s office, it was a great introduction to the environment in which I needed to propose my changes, despite being lower rank than just about everyone else. My low rank meant that if a sergeant wanted to make my 45-minute room cleaning a seven-hour ordeal because I had sent back his logistics paperwork, I had to take it.
As a change agent, you need be able to withstand pushback, but you also need cover from leaders so that you are protected from those who are invested in the established system. The changes I implemented wouldn’t have been possible without the support of people like Top Wright.
Today, I work with companies to improve decision making through the better use of data. Four key principles I picked up as a Marine still apply:
1. Train your frontline to understand the impact of using data. Data is important in all modern organizations. Even if parts of the workforce don’t utilize it every day, a common understanding of how information is used to make decisions is vital to long-term organization success. One of the first actions in the 3rd Amtrak Battalion was to implement a weekly reconciliation with AAV Crew Chiefs. Basically, we would go thought all the known defects of the vehicle and ensure the records reflected the correct status. I would sit in their vehicle with greasy papers and explain how the Daily Process Report worked and how important it was for them to keep updated timely records so their vehicle could operate correctly. After a few months of poking fun at how clean my hands were or how much ass I must kiss being in the office all day, the Crew Chiefs began to appreciate how many headaches could be removed through smart use of data. They soon became so invested in the new system that they would accost me when their vehicle status wasn’t updated quickly enough.
2. Anoint a champion to drive the cause. Proactive and consistent leadership presence is vital, especially in the early stages of a transition. The champion will likely encounter a lot of resistance in the early stages, but they will need to stay on message and bridge the gap between current practices and what the future will look like. In my case, I championed my own cause, which was difficult at times, but I maintained a positive attitude and waited out the initial pushback.
3. Reward the organization for making decisions using data rather than tribal knowledge. Instead of rewarding individuals and teams for being “scrappy” and using unconventional methods to maintain and deliver on projects, focus on how decisions were made and what procedures were used to accomplish the mission. Reward individuals for contributing to data streams, which ensures proper information is in-place to make good long-term decisions. Working with data for the long-term is not about winning an individual race — it’s about winning a championship. Don’t just reward results — reward process.
4. Get a handle on your organization’s current relationship with the technology. Remember: You’re developing a culture of using technology in a positive way. The platforms themselves will continue to change, often at a breakneck pace, but if embracing new technology, instead of clinging to binders of carbon copies, becomes part of your organization’s cultural DNA, you’ll be ready — and you’ll achieve incredible wins.
