The Leader's Code: Mission, Character, Service, and Getting the Job Done - Hardcover

Campbell, Donovan

 
9780812992939: The Leader's Code: Mission, Character, Service, and Getting the Job Done
Hardcover
ISBN 10: 0812992938 ISBN 13: 9780812992939
Verlag: Random House, 2013

Inhaltsangabe

What does it take to be a great leader? In a word: character. This unique book by decorated U.S. Marine Corps veteran Donovan Campbell, the New York Times bestselling author of Joker One, draws on his years of training and combat experience to reveal the specific virtues that underpin effective leadership—and how anyone can stand up, serve others, and make a difference in the world by bringing out the best in a team.
 
The Leader’s Code is a practical action plan that can be applied to any situation in which exemplary leadership is required, whether that be at home or in the workplace. Moreover, The Leader’s Code unpacks the military servant-leader model—a leader must take care of his mission first, his team second, and himself a distant third—and explains why this concept of self-sacrifice is so needed in today’s world. Focusing on the development of character as the foundation of servant-leadership, Campbell identifies character’s six key attributes: humility, excellence, kindness, discipline, courage, and wisdom. Then, drawing on lessons from his time in the Corps and stories from history, Scripture, and American business, he shows us how to develop those virtues in order to take the helm with confidence, conviction, and a passion to bring out the best in others.
 
Being a leader is about being worthy of being followed. True leaders, Campbell argues, foster compassion for others and they pursue excellence in all that they do. They are humble and know how to self-correct. Campbell’s exploration of these vital qualities is wide-ranging, as he takes us from the boardrooms of the world’s most successful companies to the Infantry Officer Course, the intense twelve-week training gauntlet that Marines use to prepare their leaders to sacrifice themselves for the welfare of others.
 
With faith in our political and business leaders at an all-time low, America is in the midst of a crisis of trust. Yet public opinion polls show that there is one institution that still commands widespread respect because of its commitment to character and sacrifice: the United States military. The Leader’s Code shows that this same servant-leader model can help us all become our best selves—and provide a way forward for our nation.

Advance praise for The Leader’s Code
 
“A refreshing model for leadership, offering convincing principles and motivating examples that are sure to make a difference in a leader’s personal and professional life. I can’t remember a leadership book that has had more influence on my thinking.”—Steve Reinemund, dean of business, Wake Forest University, and retired chairman and CEO, PepsiCo
 
“Donovan Campbell has written a superb, thoughtful, all-encompassing examination of leadership and leaders. His key lessons, easily understood and well articulated, are applicable at home, within the community, and to professionals in all walks of life. The Leader’s Code is an important book for anyone concerned about today’s leadership crisis in our country and in our communities.”—General Mike Hagee, USMC (Ret.), 33rd Commandant of the U.S. Marine Corps
 
“Donovan Campbell nails it as he speaks to our country’s need for leadership at every level: at home, in the marketplace, in education, in government, and in the military. The Leader’s Code is a clear call to be focused on the right mission, in the right way, and at the right time. This is a thoughtful book that will keep you awake at night and challenge you to dream in the daytime!”—Dennis Rainey, president and CEO, FamilyLife

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Donovan Campbell grew up in Dallas, Texas, as the oldest of five brothers. He graduated with high honors from Princeton University in May 2001 and joined the Marine Corps as a second lieutenant in November of the same year. At Basic School, Donovan graduated first in his class and first in every single evaluated area, and he later deployed twice to Iraq. He was awarded a Bronze Star with Valor for heroism during his second deployment, in which he led a forty-man infantry platoon through some of the fiercest fighting of the war.
 
After leaving active service in 2005, Donovan attended Harvard Business School, where he graduated with high distinction and was named a Baker Scholar for performing in the top 5 percent of his class. During his second year of the masters program, Donovan was recalled to active service, and in 2008 he deployed to Afghanistan as a captain supporting Special Operations Command, Central. He was awarded a Defense Meritorious Service Medal for exceptional service overseas.
 
Since entering the business world, Donovan has worked as a senior director in PepsiCo’s elite leadership development program and as the chief operating officer of one of North America’s top fifty printing companies. He is currently working as a management consultant for Credera, a Dallas-based strategy and technology consulting company. He lives in Dallas with his wife, Christy, and his three daughters, Ally, Avery, and Isabelle.

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Chapter 1

Mission

My first major firefight occurred on April 6, 2004. At the time, the forty-man infantry platoon I led was garrisoned in a city called Ramadi, the capital of Iraq’s Anbar Province. Anbar was soon to be the epicenter of the insurgency that blossomed across Iraq in 2004, and Ramadi was the heart of that dangerous province. With close to four hundred thousand people packed into less than ten square miles, Ramadi had one of the highest population densities on earth. To police them, we had 160 infantry Marines, 90 percent of whom were between the ages of seventeen and twenty-two.

Its buildings were equally close-packed. Throughout most of the city, two-story walled compounds joined together to form three-hundred-yard-long urban canyons, with the only breaks between them being street intersections. In the commercial district downtown, on the city’s western side, several buildings rose ten stories or higher, and the walled compounds here housed small shops. In some places, the streets were wide enough to drive two Humvees side by side. In others, the streets were so narrow that it was difficult for two men to walk side by side. And everywhere the people thronged, at least until the serious fighting started.

The night before the battle had been a long one for my platoon—call sign Joker One—and me. We had spent the entire evening, from sundown to sunup, out of our base, lying awake in fighting positions on the roof of Ramadi’s government center or conducting patrols in its immediate area. Shortly after first light broke, we patrolled on foot back to our base, sweeping Ramadi’s main thoroughfare for bombs as we went. We found one.

When we got back into our rudimentary base, we debriefed, then turned in to catch a bit of rest. Since we were a designated quick-reaction force that day, I slept with my boots on. And a good thing it was that I did so, since barely an hour after I had fallen asleep, I was woken up again and ordered to assemble my platoon and launch them into the city. A fellow platoon had been ambushed by hundreds of attackers and separated into three disparate houses. The casualties were high—several wounded, at least one dead—and the attackers were pressing their advantage. Fragmented reports indicated that the insurgents had penetrated the compounds of several of the houses and were firing at the Marines through the windows. In other places, Marines and insurgents stood on opposite sides of the same wall, lobbing grenades back and forth.

Our friends were running low on ammunition, and the casualties were mounting. Someone needed to relieve them, and quickly. Several minutes after waking up, Joker One and I headed into the city, driving as far as we could and then dismounting. We didn’t know exactly where our friends were, so we ran to the sounds of the gunfire and to the black smoke that floated up above the middle of the city. We took into the fight only what we could carry on our backs.

Several blocks later, we hit withering machine gun fire. From that point on, we fought house by house and block by block until we rescued our comrades. Machine guns tore up the walls all around us. Rocket-propelled grenades (RPGs) detonated all over the city. At one point in time, an enemy grenade landed less than five feet from me and four of my men. Had it gone off, Joker One would have immediately suffered 10 percent dead.

After we relieved the pressure on Third Platoon and evacuated their wounded, we fought for the rest of the day, clearing the city of the thousands of attackers that had besieged us. Shortly before nightfall, we made it back into the base, filthy, covered with dirt and gunpowder and, in some cases, blood. I was walking side by side into the base with Jon Hesener, leader of Third Platoon and my compatriot, when he calmly informed me that halfway through the day he had been knocked completely unconscious (for about five minutes) by a bullet to his Kevlar helmet. His men had started dragging his limp body away, thinking him dead, until he suddenly came to and started swearing robustly.

Jon and I headed into the command post and debriefed with our leadership for about thirty minutes. Then we headed back out, to check on our men and try to get some rest. I was walking through the hangar bay that housed our command post, headed to the small compound that housed my platoon. I didn’t make it there, though. Halfway through the bay, I saw Joe Mahardy, my best radio operator, leaning up against the wall, with his gear off, smoking a cigarette.

Joe was all of nineteen years old, and he looked it. With his gear off, he stood a skinny six feet tall, weighing maybe 150 pounds. He came from a tight-knit family of five from New York, and he’d left Syracuse University, where he was on the dean’s list, to join the Marines in the wake of the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001. He was sharp as a tack and mouthy, which is why we’d made him the platoon’s radio operator. He knew what I would ask before I did, which saved me a lot of time in the middle of a firefight. As I walked by Joe this time, though, he looked contemplative, and he didn’t say anything as I passed. He just smoked his cigarette and stared off into the distance.

I walked past Joe, wanting to get over to the platoon’s house and check on the bulk of my men. But I stopped. A quiet Joe was unusual. I asked him how he was doing. It was, after all, our first daylong house-to-house firefight.

Joe thought for a minute. “I’m fine, sir.”

Then he said something that amazed me. “Hey, sir, do you think we fought well today? I mean, do you think that all the Marines who fought at Iwo Jima and Okinawa would have been proud of us? Did we live up to them, sir? Did we do our part?”

I didn’t know what to say. My skinny, nineteen-year-old lance corporal had just been through what was arguably the most difficult day of his young life to date. He had helped carry his wounded and dead friends into the backs of medevac ambulances. He had radioed into headquarters that his comrade, Hallal, was lying dead in the street with his throat cut. He had taken cover as machine gun fire cut up the wall next to him. He had fought for twelve straight hours on almost no sleep, carrying all of his gear plus twenty extra pounds of radio. By all rights, he should have been worried about what tomorrow would hold—would he have to fight again, would he see such death, would he return to base, and if he did would he still have all of his limbs? But he wasn’t worried about these things. Mahardy wondered only one thing: Had he kept the faith with the men who preceded him? Had he upheld the honor of the United States Marine Corps?

What is it that makes a nineteen-year-old more concerned with his service than his life? Why was Nelson Mandela able to spend more than a decade in prison for daring to believe that all men are created equal and then emerge to plead to his nation to forgive those who had imprisoned him? Why was Mohandas Gandhi able to steadfastly refuse the call to violence in the face of increasingly violent oppression? Why did Mother Teresa pour out her life in the slums of Calcutta? Why is it that the most respected people, and the most respected leaders, can endure hardship, pain, and even the prospect of their certain death and still persevere without bitterness and self-pity?

In Mahardy’s case, it was because he was more concerned with the honor of the Corps—and how he upheld it—than he was with his own death. Mahardy was not an unusual Marine. He was not particularly more dedicated than his peers, and he was not a uniquely created human being, born with the ability to transcend his own well-being for the greater good. He was simply...

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Verlag
Random House
Erscheinungsdatum
2013
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
0812992938
ISBN 13 
9780812992939
Einband
Gebundene Ausgabe
Anzahl der Seiten
256
Kontakt zum Hersteller
Nicht verfügbar
Verantwortliche Person
Purmerul LTD
https://strengholt.nl/en/

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