In May 1973, my father, Bob Gerner, told me to meet him at a restaurant for a late lunch. It was a cafe on Second Avenue in New York City. A tough man by any measure, my father completed training as an ironworker on high-rise construction projects. He was drafted into the Army in 1943. Over lunch, my father wanted to discuss his combat experience from nearly 30 years ago in World War II. He began to share his memories of fighting in Italy as a young sergeant in the 10th Mountain Cavalry Reconnaissance Troop of the 10th Mountain Division.

He said war’s unpredictability led him to the conclusion that the unexpected affects each soldier differently. This included both officers and noncommissioned officers. He told me his combat experiences in Italy’s Apennine Range taught him leadership lessons that were not addressed in Army schools or professional military education. After World War II, he returned to work at the Brooklyn Navy Yard building ships, and he eventually became the shop foreman for a steel construction company.

Our discussion occurred about a month before I graduated from the U.S. Military Academy at West Point, New York, and was commissioned as an infantry officer. In May 1973, my father was serving as command sergeant major of the 77th Army Reserve Command (previously the 77th Infantry Division), a position he had held for about eight years.

Leadership Lessons

My father told me that successful units are built around the strength and courage of their commanders. As an infantry leader, I should expect that I would be responsible for soldiers in combat, and he wanted me to remember that my real work would begin as soon as the shooting stopped. That job would be to treat people with humanity, ensuring they know that they are not merely part of the machine of war.

He told me I will need to learn to have a debate, ever so rapid, but a debate all the same. The officer will be one voice, and the NCO the other. That is because while officers are trained to accomplish missions, NCOs are practiced at assessing risk. The result of the debate must be how you agree to accomplish missions while mitigating risk to the mission and to subordinate soldiers. He told me to be sure that in my first unit, my soldiers shaved every day, that we were in uniform and that someone was always in charge.

The next time I heard anything like my father’s counsel was about five years later. Then-Maj. Gen. Richard Cavazos, the newly arrived commanding general of the 9th Infantry Division, personally moderated our battalion after-action review. We had just completed an unannounced four-day battalion defensive operation. At the close of the review, Cavazos both listened and instructed us on anti-armor gunnery, cover and concealment. He drew fighting positions on an easel and asked how many of us had walked the terrain as if we were attacking our own defensive positions. He had us talk to each other, without protocol, to identify best practices in the defense. He asked first sergeants about standards, about shaving and about who was in charge when leaders were injured or killed.

Unique Experience

I was 26 years old and had been the commander of Company C, 3rd Battalion, 39th Infantry Regiment, at Fort Lewis, Washington, for more than a year. It was my fifth year in the battalion, and I had served in several roles as a lieutenant. I had never seen a senior leader conduct such a complete review of what soldiers and leaders all were required to do in training.

The main thing we learned that day was that our new commanding general was committed to collective training and developing us as leaders. He started by teaching us how to build integrated defensive company sectors tied to terrain. All leaders in the 9th Infantry Division soon learned we were his students as well as his subordinates. Cavazos was a master trainer and teacher. His focus on company commanders was based on his personal experiences of what can go badly in both training and war. His question, “Who is in charge here?” helped us realize the importance of building cohesive teams before combat operations commenced.

Cavazos spoke to us about combat in Korea and Vietnam. He shared the consequences of leaders who demonstrate poor judgment in battle. He told us about artillery fire and what it does to people. Over time, Cavazos made a point to visit every commander in the 9th Infantry Division during a field training exercise.

His questions centered on soldiers’ individual skills and unit battle drills. These were never briefings, but rather candid discussions about what to expect in combat. He also was open about when he would approve a leader’s relief for cause. He believed in counseling and retraining unless the leader violated their integrity or demonstrated laziness. Absent those behaviors, the commanding general expected us to keep learning by working alongside our soldiers.

My phone rang early one Sunday morning. My mother called to tell me my father had died. He was traveling from annual training at Fort Drum, New York, to the family cottage in Monticello, New York. My mother could not recall what he said as he collapsed next to the car; however, she did tell me that my father asked about his first grandson.

Role Model

At my father’s memorial service at Fort Totten, New York, a senior leader described my dad as “the” command sergeant major and his personal role model. He told the audience that Bob Gerner was a talented athlete, and everyone wanted to be on his team.

As I took the podium, the woman who was the personal secretary to the commander of the 77th Army Reserve Command smiled through her tears and said, “Tell them how your dad would sing his happy tunes. Tell them about his songs of hope, and how we will miss our ‘music man.’ ” Then she smiled at our newborn son.

At the same time as my father’s memorial service, my infantry company was alerted for an exercise. Cavazos went to McChord Air Force Base, Washington, to see what this weekend “training” was about. After a few minutes, he said to the company executive officer, “Isn’t Capt. Gerner the commander? Where is he?” When he learned that I was burying my father, Cavazos ended the training exercise and put the company on pass. He left word he wanted to see me upon my return to Fort Lewis.

Later, in his office, Cavazos asked me for my opinion on his training and command philosophy. Cavazos and my father were so alike in their leader development approach that I wondered if they had served together. I learned they had never met; however, Cavazos told me that my father’s service in World War II likely shaped how Bob Gerner lived the rest of life with a certain happiness.

Each time I think about Cavazos or Bob Gerner, a song by Dan Fogelberg enters my head. Some of the lines from The Leader of the Band include:

The leader of the band is tired and his eyes are growing old,

But his blood runs through my instrument and his song is in my soul

My life has been a poor attempt to imitate the man

I’m just a living legacy to the leader of the band.

The newborn child at my father’s memorial service enlisted in the Army in 1999. He served multiple combat tours with special operations forces and the 75th Ranger Regiment. He earned the award of Distinguished Member of 75th Ranger Regiment and rose to the rank of command sergeant major. Our family tradition of service to the Army and the nation continues.

Col. Mark Gerner, U.S. Army retired, retired from the Army in October 2000 after more than 27 years of service, including with the 9th Infantry Division, 25th Infantry Division, the U.S. Army Recruiting Command and Eighth U.S. Army. He served with the peacekeeping force in the Sinai Peninsula. He graduated from the U.S. Military Academy, West Point, New York, in 1973.