In 2011, when I was deputy chief of staff for operations for the U.S. Army Maneuver Center of Excellence at Fort Benning, Georgia, now known as Fort Moore, Gen. Robert Cone, then-commander of the U.S. Army Training and Doctrine Command, said, “Not everyone deserves a mentor.” This bold statement, made at the Maneuver Warfighter Conference, came at a time when the Army was promoting an initiative to formally assign every soldier a mentor.

The context of Cone’s message was that to earn the position of mentee, you must fully embrace your profession. A soldier who simply shows up for duty is not embracing their profession, nor striving to compete and excel in their chosen vocation. They don’t deserve a mentor.

A young soldier’s goal should be to become the most tactically and technically proficient soldier in their unit. They must strive to give maximum effort at every task, learn their duties as thoroughly as possible, then learn and start to perform the duties of the leader one level up, then two levels up.

Recognizing Potential

Cone’s statement reminds me of when I was a sophomore high school football player, and I asked an upperclassman why the head coach was always yelling at me. He said this was our coach’s way of showing that he sees potential in a player and recognizes their effort on the field. The upperclassman also warned that players should worry when the coach stops yelling—that means he has given up on a player and moved on.

In my first Army unit, I was lucky enough to have a mentor who recognized effort and potential, and poured a lifetime of experience into many of us young lieutenants. His name was Lt. Col. Martin Dempsey, call sign Bandit 6, our commander in the 4th Battalion, 67th Armor Regiment —“the Bandits”—in Friedberg, Germany. Dempsey also was a mentor to Cone and eventually became chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.

I joined the Bandits a few months after Dempsey took command of the battalion following Operation Desert Storm. I was the first of the new lieutenants in my year group to arrive, and Dempsey did not waste time before giving me my initial counseling and advice. “Set your standards high, and your platoon will strive to achieve them. Set them low, and those will also become the standards for your platoon,” he said.

But Dempsey’s mentorship was not simply words. He mentored with actions. A constant presence in the motor pool, he would regularly stop and ask lieutenants to discuss technical aspects of their tank and armaments. His knowledge was so thorough that technical manuals would not suffice to answer many of his questions. Several of us signed up for mechanic and armorer correspondence courses to increase our knowledge. We also constantly hounded our battalion maintenance technician to teach us more about the M1A1 Abrams tank so we would be able to answer any question that came our way.

Dempsey also took this approach for gunnery. Even during social events, he would grab a few lieutenants, sit at a table and use salt and pepper shakers to quiz us on tank gunnery exercises. He also took time to counsel officers on their potential or simply provide advice as they moved forward in their careers.

Persistent Impact

This mentorship was not simply for officers; it also extended to families. Dempsey and his wife, Deanie, regularly invited groups of single lieutenants or lieutenants whose wives might be on vacation back home to the U.S. to their house for dinner. While these events were purely social, the Dempseys would always take the time to impart their knowledge and discuss their experiences in the Army. This allowed us to envision our potential future as we continued to serve.

After he relinquished battalion command, I would not serve with Dempsey again, but his impact on my life was persistent. I also was lucky enough to have him promote me to every rank from first lieutenant to colonel. At every event, he made my family feel special, and he would take me aside to offer advice about how to succeed at the next level.

Dempsey also would give me a book to read to either inspire me or provide lessons about what would be expected of me at the next level. At my promotion to captain, he gave me a copy of We Were Soldiers Once … and Young: Ia Drang—The Battle That Changed the War in Vietnam, with a message about what was expected of commanders in battle and the complexity of command. When I was promoted to major, he gave me a copy of Son of the Morning Star: Custer and the Little Bighorn, with a message that senior leadership is much different than junior leadership. Many of my peers and our families attended his assumption of command of the 3rd Armored Cavalry Regiment, and visited him in Washington, D.C., when we were both stationed in the area or just passing through. I also attended his retirement ceremony at Joint Base Myer-Henderson Hall, Virginia, in 2015.

As infrequently as we saw each other, when we did, he always took time to demonstrate how much he cared about me and my family and to provide advice, even at his retirement, with hundreds of senior officials in line to shake his hand.

Throughout my career, despite only seeing each other intermittently, Dempsey repeatedly showed through his actions that he approaches mentorship as a lifetime commitment, not simply as an in-service function.

Mentorship Tree

I am just one of hundreds of soldiers Dempsey has mentored. When I was promoted to colonel, I compared his mentorship tree to the great NFL coach Bill Walsh’s coaching tree, which spawned dozens of head coaches. Dempsey’s mentorship has led to dozens of battalion and brigade commanders and general officers. I like to think that as his mentees, we also strive to mentor other officers and NCOs under our command and, in turn, model the same mentorship traits demonstrated by him.

Dempsey’s model of mentorship is simple: identify subordinates who embrace their profession and are obsessed with increasing their competency and selflessly improving their organization. Counsel them early and often, engage them and their families at every opportunity and make sure they understand their service to the nation is important and appreciated. Be there when they need you, even if they don’t ask.

When I was undergoing treatment for throat cancer in 2020, Dempsey sent me a copy of his latest book, aptly titled No Time for Spectators: The Lessons That Mattered Most from West Point to the West Wing.

Don’t be a spectator. Mentorship is a critical function in retaining and developing high-performing subordinates. If you are a leader, make it a priority.

Col. Chris Kennedy, U.S. Army retired, served 30 years as an armor officer, retiring in 2021 as director of the Strategic Initiatives Group for the deputy chief of staff of the Army for installations. He commanded from the company to the brigade level, including as commander of the 4th Cavalry Brigade, Fort Knox, Kentucky. He deployed three times to Iraq. He has two master’s degrees: one in military studies from American Military University and one in strategic studies from the U.S. Army War College. He is an Association of the U.S. Army Center for Leadership fellow.