Tabs and Tyrants
a ShadowSpear Case Study
For those of you who are unfamiliar with how this works, in these cases studies one of us takes a real-life military experience, fictionalizes it, and serializes it into a series of posts. After each post, members are invited to share their own thoughts, observations, suggestions, and experiences related to the story at hand. Subsequent story-related posts are based largely on audience responses, in kind of “choose your own adventure” format.
Then, at the end, the original author re-writes it into one coherent story line and talks about the “real life” events that prompted this case.
Anyone, regardless of experience or expertise, is welcome to chime in. Keep in mind that this is designed to be both entertaining and developmental. Comments that are unhelpful towards those goals will be summarily deleted.
Here’s an example of ones we did a couple of years ago:
Case Study #2: The Loyal Wife
Case Study: Revolution
For reasons that will be revealed in the following pages, this story is called “Tabs and Tyrants.” Enjoy.
___________
When Second Lieutenant Scott Faith arrived at the battalion headquarters of First Battalion, First Brigade, 101st Airborne Division, he carried a folder with his medical and dental records, his inprocessing checklist, and ten copies of his orders. He also carried with him the weight of something he had never experienced before: failure.
Up to this point, Faith had been relatively successful in the things he thought were important in life. He got good grades in high school, coasted through college and ROTC, and got he wanted when it came to commissioning and his Army branch. He never lacked for friends… or girlfriends for that matter. It seemed that he was winning in every aspect of his life. But then, something happened. More specifically, “Ranger School” happened.
Ranger School would be tough, he knew, but it never occurred to him that he wouldn’t come out the other side “tabbed.” Yet here he was, at his first unit, a failure. A non-tabbed Infantry officer. A “tabless bitch.” At the Infantry Officers Basic Course, he was constantly reminded that this was literally the worst thing that could happen to a young lieutenant. “Better to catch a DUI charge en route than to show up at your first unit without a tab,” one of the noncommissioned officers trainers at the Basic Course told him. And Faith believed him. Still believed him. Ever since he got to Fort Campbell, he felt people were watching him, judging him. Because they probably were.
Taking a deep breath, he pressed on the swinging glass door and walked out of the hot Tennessee sun and into the cool darkness of the battalion headquarters. He checked in with a bored-looking specialist at the front desk, who nonchalantly directed him down the hallway to the office of the battalion’s S1, or personnel officer.
The S1 was a young and harried-looking captain whose cramped office was piled with books, folders, and Army manuals, with no apparent order or logic. The door was open and Faith raised his hand to knock.
“Come in,” the S1 said, sensing rather than seeing Faith at the door.
As Faith entered the room, the S1 stood and walked over to shake hands. As he did so, he glanced at the jacket of Faith’s battle dress uniform, which bore Airborne and Air Assault badges. That was good. But then his eyes skirted to Faith’s left sleeve, where a “subdued” green and black Ranger Tab should have been sewn above the “Screaming Eagle” patch of the 101st Airborne Division. His expression darkened.
“No tab?” he asked incredulously.”
“No sir,” Faith responded without elaborating.
“Why not?” the S1 pressed.
Faith thought about that for a second. There were many reasons. Too many people in the starting class meant a lot of lieutenants, including him, “failed” the PT test and got rolled into the next class. During a unit run in Darby Phase, someone behind him stumbled over a crack in the pavement and flew headlong into Faith’s ankle, twisting it painfully. Luck of the draw gave Faith some crappy missions in Mountain Phase. Being in a squad that was all West Pointers, except him, meant his peer evaluations suffered. About halfway through, his girlfriend broke up with him, via a “Dear John” letter. And a family emergency meant he couldn’t still around for more after he got “recycled” back to Day 1 of Ranger School. Preparation, persecution, family, and luck all played a role in the outcome. But if he were honest with himself, and now he felt like he could be, at the end of the day, those reasons were just excuses. There was only one accurate answer.
“I didn’t meet course standards, sir,” he said, with more confidence than he actually felt.
“OK. Well, that complicates things. I had you slated for a platoon in Charlie Company, but now I’m going to have to give it to one of the other new arrivals and figure out what to do with you,” he explained.
“Sir,” Faith began, “I’d really like to go to a line platoon right away. I need to get back to Ranger School and—“
“Slow your roll, Lieutenant,” the S1 interrupted, unsympathetically. “No one cares what you want or what you think you need. All we care about is the needs of the unit. Right now we don’t have any line platoons open, and even if we did, based on the Battalion Commander’s guidelines I wouldn’t send a non-Ranger qualified platoon leader down to the line.”
Cowed, Faith said nothing.
“Give me your medical and dental records and three copies of your orders,” the S1 continued. Faith complied. After perusing them for a moment, he said, “Everything appears to be in order. Here’s your battalion-level inprocessing sheet.” Then he picked up the telephone. “Sir, a new lieutenant has arrived. When would you like to see him?” A pause. “No sir, no tab.” Another pause. “Roger sir,” he concluded before hanging up.
“The Battalion Commander likes to see every new lieutenant as soon as they arrive,” he explained. “His office is down the hall and to the right. He will see you now. Good luck, Lieutenant Faith.”
Deflated, Faith made his way down the hallway to the Battalion Commander’s office. This was going to be as bad as he imagined. Well, Faith thought, at least the S1 didn’t call me a “tabless bitch.” But it was probably implied.
Faith knocked twice on the open door. “Sir, LT Faith reporting as ordered.”
“Enter!” a voice behind the desk directed.
(end)
Discussion topics:
1) Why is having a Ranger Tab so important in an Infantry unit? Does it have the same meaning in other units?
2) What should Faith’s priority be now?
3) What kinds of things should Faith focus on in his upcoming discussion with the Battalion Commander?
4) How have you dealt with your own failures, either in the military or in life in general?
a ShadowSpear Case Study
For those of you who are unfamiliar with how this works, in these cases studies one of us takes a real-life military experience, fictionalizes it, and serializes it into a series of posts. After each post, members are invited to share their own thoughts, observations, suggestions, and experiences related to the story at hand. Subsequent story-related posts are based largely on audience responses, in kind of “choose your own adventure” format.
Then, at the end, the original author re-writes it into one coherent story line and talks about the “real life” events that prompted this case.
Anyone, regardless of experience or expertise, is welcome to chime in. Keep in mind that this is designed to be both entertaining and developmental. Comments that are unhelpful towards those goals will be summarily deleted.
Here’s an example of ones we did a couple of years ago:
Case Study #2: The Loyal Wife
Case Study: Revolution
For reasons that will be revealed in the following pages, this story is called “Tabs and Tyrants.” Enjoy.
___________
When Second Lieutenant Scott Faith arrived at the battalion headquarters of First Battalion, First Brigade, 101st Airborne Division, he carried a folder with his medical and dental records, his inprocessing checklist, and ten copies of his orders. He also carried with him the weight of something he had never experienced before: failure.
Up to this point, Faith had been relatively successful in the things he thought were important in life. He got good grades in high school, coasted through college and ROTC, and got he wanted when it came to commissioning and his Army branch. He never lacked for friends… or girlfriends for that matter. It seemed that he was winning in every aspect of his life. But then, something happened. More specifically, “Ranger School” happened.
Ranger School would be tough, he knew, but it never occurred to him that he wouldn’t come out the other side “tabbed.” Yet here he was, at his first unit, a failure. A non-tabbed Infantry officer. A “tabless bitch.” At the Infantry Officers Basic Course, he was constantly reminded that this was literally the worst thing that could happen to a young lieutenant. “Better to catch a DUI charge en route than to show up at your first unit without a tab,” one of the noncommissioned officers trainers at the Basic Course told him. And Faith believed him. Still believed him. Ever since he got to Fort Campbell, he felt people were watching him, judging him. Because they probably were.
Taking a deep breath, he pressed on the swinging glass door and walked out of the hot Tennessee sun and into the cool darkness of the battalion headquarters. He checked in with a bored-looking specialist at the front desk, who nonchalantly directed him down the hallway to the office of the battalion’s S1, or personnel officer.
The S1 was a young and harried-looking captain whose cramped office was piled with books, folders, and Army manuals, with no apparent order or logic. The door was open and Faith raised his hand to knock.
“Come in,” the S1 said, sensing rather than seeing Faith at the door.
As Faith entered the room, the S1 stood and walked over to shake hands. As he did so, he glanced at the jacket of Faith’s battle dress uniform, which bore Airborne and Air Assault badges. That was good. But then his eyes skirted to Faith’s left sleeve, where a “subdued” green and black Ranger Tab should have been sewn above the “Screaming Eagle” patch of the 101st Airborne Division. His expression darkened.
“No tab?” he asked incredulously.”
“No sir,” Faith responded without elaborating.
“Why not?” the S1 pressed.
Faith thought about that for a second. There were many reasons. Too many people in the starting class meant a lot of lieutenants, including him, “failed” the PT test and got rolled into the next class. During a unit run in Darby Phase, someone behind him stumbled over a crack in the pavement and flew headlong into Faith’s ankle, twisting it painfully. Luck of the draw gave Faith some crappy missions in Mountain Phase. Being in a squad that was all West Pointers, except him, meant his peer evaluations suffered. About halfway through, his girlfriend broke up with him, via a “Dear John” letter. And a family emergency meant he couldn’t still around for more after he got “recycled” back to Day 1 of Ranger School. Preparation, persecution, family, and luck all played a role in the outcome. But if he were honest with himself, and now he felt like he could be, at the end of the day, those reasons were just excuses. There was only one accurate answer.
“I didn’t meet course standards, sir,” he said, with more confidence than he actually felt.
“OK. Well, that complicates things. I had you slated for a platoon in Charlie Company, but now I’m going to have to give it to one of the other new arrivals and figure out what to do with you,” he explained.
“Sir,” Faith began, “I’d really like to go to a line platoon right away. I need to get back to Ranger School and—“
“Slow your roll, Lieutenant,” the S1 interrupted, unsympathetically. “No one cares what you want or what you think you need. All we care about is the needs of the unit. Right now we don’t have any line platoons open, and even if we did, based on the Battalion Commander’s guidelines I wouldn’t send a non-Ranger qualified platoon leader down to the line.”
Cowed, Faith said nothing.
“Give me your medical and dental records and three copies of your orders,” the S1 continued. Faith complied. After perusing them for a moment, he said, “Everything appears to be in order. Here’s your battalion-level inprocessing sheet.” Then he picked up the telephone. “Sir, a new lieutenant has arrived. When would you like to see him?” A pause. “No sir, no tab.” Another pause. “Roger sir,” he concluded before hanging up.
“The Battalion Commander likes to see every new lieutenant as soon as they arrive,” he explained. “His office is down the hall and to the right. He will see you now. Good luck, Lieutenant Faith.”
Deflated, Faith made his way down the hallway to the Battalion Commander’s office. This was going to be as bad as he imagined. Well, Faith thought, at least the S1 didn’t call me a “tabless bitch.” But it was probably implied.
Faith knocked twice on the open door. “Sir, LT Faith reporting as ordered.”
“Enter!” a voice behind the desk directed.
(end)
Discussion topics:
1) Why is having a Ranger Tab so important in an Infantry unit? Does it have the same meaning in other units?
2) What should Faith’s priority be now?
3) What kinds of things should Faith focus on in his upcoming discussion with the Battalion Commander?
4) How have you dealt with your own failures, either in the military or in life in general?
