The Wisdom of the Bullfrog

The Wisdom of the Bullfrog Plot Summary

Introduction

The storm front was moving rapidly, dark clouds rising on the horizon as I peered through the foggy seawater in my mask. Ten feet below, I spotted another concrete obstacle half-buried by the surging tide. This was my job as a Navy SEAL - to clear the path for others, to face obstacles head-on with determination and precision. Years later, as I found myself leading thousands of special operators across the globe, I realized that those early lessons in the water had prepared me for leadership in ways I never imagined. Leadership is both remarkably simple and incredibly difficult. As Admiral William McRaven discovered through decades of service, the fundamentals of great leadership transcend environment - whether commanding elite military units or guiding civilian organizations. The wisdom gained from the battlefield, the boardroom, and all points between reveals that leadership isn't about complex frameworks or sophisticated algorithms. Rather, it's about timeless principles applied with unwavering commitment: integrity as your foundation, competence as your currency, communication as your lifeline, and humility as your strength. This wisdom, earned through triumph and failure, offers a roadmap for anyone seeking to lead with purpose and impact, regardless of title or position.

Chapter 1: Integrity as the Foundation: The Honor Code Legacy

As I approached the podium in the Great Hall of the United States Military Academy, I couldn't help but be impressed by the cadets standing before me. Immaculately attired in their gray mess dress uniform, replete with brass buttons and gold stripes, here were America's finest: young men and women who had volunteered to join the Army during a time of war, knowing that by raising their hands they were likely to find themselves in conflict during their years of service. It was 2014, and as the commander of the United States Special Operations Command, I had been invited to be the guest speaker at the 500th Night event, a gala that marked the last five hundred days before the West Point juniors graduated. Earlier in the day I had passed by the Cadet Honor Code, which is etched in glass set in a stone wall that adorns the academy grounds. The code is simple but incredibly powerful. It says: "A cadet will not lie, cheat, steal, or tolerate those who do." When I joined the SEAL Teams in 1978, all the operators were Vietnam vets. They were tough, salty, irreverent, and at times insubordinate, but there was still a sense of nobility to them that shaped their character. Even though they had endured a difficult, nasty war that at times tested their humanity, they understood the need to be men of integrity, men of honor. And, like their Vietnam forebears, today's SEALs are not without their dark shadows, but the standard of conduct is still exceptionally high. In 2005, the modern SEALs codified that standard of conduct in the Navy SEAL Ethos, which reads in part: "I serve with honor on and off the battlefield...Uncompromising integrity is my standard...My word is my bond." I often hear that it's hard to know the right thing to do. No, it's not! You always know what's right, but sometimes it's just very hard to do it. It's hard because you may have to admit failure. It's hard because the right decision may affect your friends and colleagues. It's hard because you may not personally benefit from doing what's right. Yeah, it's hard. That's called leadership. Having a set of moral principles and being a person of integrity are the most important virtues for any leader. In the simplest terms it follows the West Point Honor Code: Don't lie, cheat, steal, or tolerate those that do. This means be honest with your workforce, your customers, and the public. Be fair in your business dealings. Follow the Golden Rule: Treat others as you would have others treat you. If this sounds a bit Pollyannaish or like you're in Sunday school, so be it. Being a person of high integrity is what separates the great leaders from the commonplace.

Chapter 2: Building Trust Through Character and Competence

I parked in the small lot at the front of CIA headquarters. Dressed in my navy blue uniform, I got out, walked up the stairs and into the large headquarters building. As I approached the guard, I could see my escort standing behind the desk, waiting for me to swipe my badge and get past the entry point. As commander of a special operations unit, I had been brought back to CIA headquarters to meet the new director of CIA, Leon Panetta. We took a sharp left into a small corridor and walked onto the director's private elevator. My escort pushed the button, and we went directly to the seventh floor, with the elevator opening into Panetta's outer office. A few minutes later I was called into his office. As I walked in the door, Panetta, a big grin on his face, his hand extended in friendship, said, "I'm Leon Panetta, so very good to meet you!" Standing in the room, arrayed in an informal semicircle, were all of the CIA's senior officers. Panetta motioned me to the first man in line and introduced him as the director of operations (DDO). As I shook hands with each person in the line, one after another mentioned how we had worked together in various combat zones: Baghdad, Afghanistan, Yemen, Somalia, North Africa. Panetta roared with laughter. "So, am I the only one who hasn't served with you?" I smiled. "Well sir, most of us have grown up together fighting this war on terrorism." "Well, good then," Panetta smiled. "We won't have to spend time getting to know each other. Because when it hits the fan, we won't have time to build trust." A year later, I would be called back into Panetta's office, but this time to help plan the raid to get Osama bin Laden. The decision by the CIA to use my special operations forces did not come in a flash. It was the result of years of working together, years of building personal and professional relationships, years of earning each other's trust. And even when we had interagency squabbles, of which there were many, the CIA believed they could trust me and they could trust my team. In his book The Speed of Trust, Stephen Covey says there are two components to trust: character and competence. You may initially trust someone if you know them to be a man or woman of sound character. But if that person fails to deliver on their promises, if they are shown to be incompetent in handling the affairs of the business, then after a while you lose trust in them. As a leader your competence can and will be measured in your personal behavior, your professional demeanor, your effectiveness in handling problems, and your consistency. To be a great leader you must be trusted by your employees. If they do not trust you, they will not follow you. It takes time to build trust, but it is time well spent if you intend to lead effectively.

Chapter 3: Command with Confidence: Leading from the Front

I sat with my back straight, head erect, listening to Lieutenant Jim McCoy as he paced across the front of the classroom lecturing the thirty midshipmen on the Battle of Midway. Naval History was a required course for all freshman officer candidates at the University of Texas. We started with the Peloponnesian War, "crossed the T" with Lord Nelson at the Battle of Trafalgar, fought with Admiral Jellicoe at Jutland, launched off the USS Yorktown at the Battle of the Coral Sea, and now we were preparing for one of the biggest naval engagements of WWII, Midway. Lieutenant McCoy reached for a plastic viewgraph and placed it on the projector. He flipped off the lights and on the screen was a picture of Admiral Chester Nimitz. Nimitz had a prominent head of white hair, steel-blue eyes fixed into the distance, and a thin, serious smile, all framed in his navy blue uniform with the five gold stripes of a fleet admiral. In the spring of 1942, the intelligence on the Japanese intentions at Midway was anything but solid. Many in the admiral's own ranks questioned the strategic benefit of trying to save Midway. The ramifications of a bad decision were calamitous, but the ramification of no decision might be an existential disaster. Legend has it that during a conversation with Admiral Bull Halsey, Nimitz confessed his apprehension. The weight of the decision about Midway was overwhelming him. Halsey, blunt as ever, reminded the admiral of Nimitz's own personal conviction. "You once told me," Halsey began, "that when in command, command." It was the clarion call that Nimitz needed. He understood that commanders are expected to make the tough decision. To act with purpose. To be confident and lead from the front. Thirty-eight years later, as a four-star admiral and commander of the U.S. Special Operations Command, I walked into my office in Tampa to find a new desk waiting for me. The desk was older than I first realized, a large executive-style desk with deep-grain wood and leather side panels. As I approached the desk, there was a small, framed picture resting on the edge. The man in the picture was unmistakable. It was Admiral Chester Nimitz, and this was his desk. For the next three years, I sat at that desk, and whenever I thought I had some difficult days, I would remember where I was sitting. Being a leader, whether you are the CEO, the admiral, the general, the chairperson, or the director for an office of two, is difficult. As a leader you must always appear to be in command, even on those days when you struggle with the pressures of the job. You must be confident. You must be decisive. You must smile. You must laugh. You must engage with your employees and be thankful for their work. You must have the look of a person in charge. You must instill in your men and women a sense of pride that their leader can handle any problem. As a leader you can't have a bad day. You must never look beaten, no matter the circumstance. If you sulk, if you hang your head, if you whine or complain about the leaders above you or the followers below you, then you will lose the respect of your men and women, and the attitude of despair will spread like wildfire.

Chapter 4: Embracing Initiative: The Power of Sua Sponte

Hill 205 seemed an unlikely place for an Army legend to be born. After MacArthur's landing at Inchon on September 15, 1950, U.S. forces began to rout the North Korean army, pushing them well above the 38th parallel, almost to the Yalu River on the border with China. With the success of the Americans and the collapse of the North Koreans, some experts believed the war would be over soon. As the 25th Infantry Division pressed the fight toward the Kuryong River in the north, victory seemed imminent. But to the surprise of MacArthur and the U.S. military, Chinese intervention would change all of that. On November 25, 1950, a small contingent of Army Rangers were directed to take and hold a vital piece of terrain just south of the river. Unbeknownst to them, the Chinese 39th Army had massed a huge force to defend the hill. The Rangers, led by First Lieutenant Ralph Puckett, began to make their way across an open field toward the high ground that was Hill 205. As the Rangers maneuvered toward the hill, the Chinese opened up with a barrage of mortars, machine gun and small arms fire. With his men completely exposed, Puckett called in American artillery to suppress the incoming mortar rounds, but the Chinese machine gunners and mortarmen were camouflaged in gun pits and hard to locate. He had to find a way to pinpoint the Chinese gunners before the Rangers could return accurate fire. Puckett, who had positioned himself at the front of the advancing Rangers, knew there was only one thing he could do. With complete disregard for his own life, Ralph Puckett rose from his foxhole and dashed out into the open field, forcing the Chinese to take aim at the young lieutenant. As the machine gunners began to fire at the sprinting Puckett, the Rangers spotted their positions and engaged them. Puckett returned to his foxhole only to catch his breath, and then leaped out and ran into the open again and then again. With each dash by Puckett into the exposed terrain, the Rangers were able to isolate and destroy more enemy machine gunners. The Rangers have a Latin saying, Sua Sponte. It means, Of Your Own Accord. In other words, doing what needs to be done, without being told to do so. There is often the misguided belief that soldiers only follow orders, but the strength of the American military is that the great soldiers, the truly great leaders, do what is right without being told. They do what is right to protect their men and women. They do what is right to uphold the reputation of their unit. They do what is right to bring honor to their country. They do what needs to be done, whether ordered to do so or not. Real leadership is not always about being the person in charge during an existential crisis. Sometimes real leadership is just doing the right thing when no one else is. When you take action of your own accord, it sets the tone for the organization. It tells others that initiative is expected in the company and hopefully rewarded. It gives the employees a sense of empowerment. It gives them a sense of ownership. They will make mistakes and their mistakes will have repercussions, but I guarantee you the mistakes of action are far less consequential than the mistakes of inaction.

Chapter 5: Who Dares Wins: Strategic Risk-Taking

I looked at my watch. Thirty minutes until launch time. The bright orange can of Rip It energy drink on my desk was just about empty. I took one final sip, got up, and walked into the Tactical Operation Center. The TOC was a small windowless room filled with large flat-panel displays glowing with information about the evening's mission. Twenty people sat at their desks, glaring into their computer screens and coordinating last-minute instructions. The room was abuzz with activity, but very little noise. No one even noticed that I had entered the operations center. That was good. They needed to be focused. Tonight would be the biggest mission of their lives. If we got it wrong, we would bear the burden of failure for the rest of our days. If we got it right, it would be a legacy to be proud of. Our base at Jalalabad was surrounded by life. Thousands of Afghans lived in the nearby city, cooking their meals, tending their livestock, and caring for their families. To them, May 1, 2011, was just another night. But to those of us who were part of Operation Neptune's Spear, it was the night we hoped to get Osama bin Laden. Colonel Elliot "Bud" Sydnor was the ground force commander for one of the most storied special operations in history, the raid on the POW camp in Son Tay, North Vietnam. On November 21, 1970, six helicopters carrying seventy soldiers, supported by four C-130 gunships and refuelers, flew from Thailand across Laos and into North Vietnam in an effort to rescue approximately sixty American POWs being held at Camp Hope near Son Tay. It was Sydnor who developed the training curriculum, conducted the rehearsals, oversaw the inspections, and led the force at the POW compound. The Son Tay raid was one of the boldest, most complex operations in modern military history. Even though no POWs were rescued (they had been moved prior to the raid), the organization and execution of the mission were flawless. Forty years later, I would use the Son Tay raid as the template for Operation Neptune's Spear, the mission to get bin Laden. In the three weeks leading up to the bin Laden raid, the Team spent 75 percent of their time planning the mission. We had extensive intelligence on the Pakistani integrated air defenses, the police, the military, the terrain, the weather, and bin Laden's compound. The plan we devised had 165 phases, in which we identified every training requirement, every piece of equipment needed, every intelligence shortfall, and every possible contingency. We tried to leave nothing to chance, even though we understood that chance and uncertainty are part of every mission. Daring greatly does not mean taking unnecessary risks. Any fool can be cavalier with the lives, the money, the future of others, either in business or combat. Daring greatly does mean having the boldness to push the envelope, to take advantage of an opportunity where others would recoil at the peril. But a great leader knows that they must reduce the risk to a manageable level, a level that is commensurate with the training or the talent of those executing the task. When we look across history at the great risk-takers in business, entertainment, sports, the arts, or the military, we see that each of these men and women understood that in every risk there is an opportunity. The opportunity exists because the risks seemed too high, and others—those without the confidence to move forward—were too fearful to venture into a particular space. Every great leader must exhibit a sense of boldness, because the rank and file don't want to follow a timid soul.

Chapter 6: Clear Communication: Avoiding Leadership Ambushes

San Clemente Island is a rugged piece of terrain that rises out of the Pacific Ocean eighty miles west of San Diego. Approximately twenty-one miles long and four miles wide, it is often obscured by low-hanging fog and has that "Island of King Kong" look from afar. For the past sixty years, San Clemente has been the home of the Third Phase of Navy SEAL training. After almost six months of a grueling selection process, the few students who remain come to San Clemente hoping to complete the last three weeks of training. Our class, which had begun with 110 men six months ago, was now down to thirty-three. We were mentally tough, highly motivated, physically imposing, and way too cocky for our own good. That morning we had mustered on a small plateau on the northwest side of the island. A gray mist hung over the lower parts of the island and floated out into the choppy sea. From the shoreline, cliffs rose steeply in all directions. Most of the terrain on San Clemente was scrub brush, cactus, and rocks, but there was one piece of ground where the brush and the small trees created a tiny forest of vegetation—a forest thick enough to hide seven large men armed with assault rifles, machine guns, and grenade simulators. Chief Faketty paced in front of the assembled group of students. "Alright, gentlemen, the drill today is simple. You will walk down the path we choose for you, and at some point, hiding in the heavy underbrush, will be the instructors. They will initiate the ambush with blank ammunition and grenade simulators, and you must negotiate your way out of the kill zone as quickly as possible. Is that clear?" After one final check of our weapons and blank-firing adapters, we lined up and moved out. After about fifteen minutes patrolling across the open plateau, we arrived at the dirt path that led into the underbrush. I motioned with my hand to signal that the enemy could be in the area. Every bush that moved caught my eye. Every twig that snapped turned my head. Every shadow cast from the moving sun made me see men that weren't there. Or were they? "Ambush right! Ambush right!" someone screamed. From the high brush to my right, the sound of blank fire erupted in a deafening roar. The ambush was on. Without hesitation, I jacked another magazine into my M16, jumped up from my prone position, and ran around the left edge of the heavy brush, nodding to the point man as I bolted past him. I would flank the instructors, circle around the bushes, come up from behind them, and counter-ambush them myself. This was going to be awesome. I found myself unopposed on the high ground behind the instructors. Flipping my selector switch to full auto, I pulled the trigger and raked the bodies of the seven men lying behind the high brush. We had won! "What the hell are you doing, Mr. Mac?" Instructor Faketty yelled, jumping up from the ground. "Killing bad guys," was my quick and proud retort. "Sir, you're a damn fool," Doc Jennings said. "You left your platoon lying in the kill zone. Did they know what you were doing?" When I returned to my platoon, they were furious. "Sir, what the hell were you thinking?" Varner said. "We had no idea where you went," LeBlanc piped in. I quickly tried to explain. "Look, guys. I saw an opportunity to flank the enemy and save the platoon. I reacted." "Well sir, that's just fine, but we had no clue what you were doing or where you were going." Jim Varner's words stayed with me for the rest of my career: "Your job was to get us out of the kill zone, to communicate your intent so we could all move together and survive." There is nothing more daunting, no greater crisis, than being caught in a real ambush, with real bullets and real lives on the line. But whether you are experiencing an existential threat or just a challenging time in your business, a successful leader knows that you must communicate your actions to the rank and file. If you want everyone in the organization to move as one, you must ensure that even the lowest-level employee understands your intent and follows your directions. During my time commanding a joint special operations unit, we had troops stationed all around the world. In one day we would sometimes conduct six video teleconferences, constantly ensuring the leaders in the field understood my orders, while at the same time getting feedback from the lowest-ranking soldier. Everyone understands the importance of good communications, but time and time again, leaders fail to ensure that their goals, objectives, values, and intentions are clearly understood by the rank and file. Communications require constant effort on the part of the leader.

Chapter 7: Humble Leadership: Trooping the Line

"Trooping the line" is steeped in Army tradition. Historically, generals have ordered their soldiers to muster on the parade field so the officers could inspect the troops, ask questions about their training, and ensure the general's orders were being relayed to the youngest private in the formation. Washington, Grant, Pershing, Eisenhower, Colin Powell, and the Army's first four-star female general, Ann Dunwoody: All the great generals have at some point trooped the line. Each service has something similar. In the Navy, every morning the sailors and Marines would gather on the fantail or the flight deck of the ship to receive the daily word. In the Air Force, the airmen muster on the flight line, and orders are disseminated. In all cases, there is a deep understanding that as an officer you need to get out among the troops. You need to confirm that the senior officer's orders are being followed, but you also need to ensure the troops see their leader as often as possible. "You heading out, sir?" the colonel asked, looking up from his computer. "Just going for a walk," I replied. He glanced up at the digital clock perched high above the wall of flat-panel displays, and smiled. It was four a.m. Afghanistan time. Time for my evening ritual. The Joint Operations Center (JOC) at my headquarters in Bagram, Afghanistan, was unusually quiet for a Saturday morning. Three Rangers missions in Kandahar and Ghazni Province were already completed. The high-value targets the soldiers were seeking had been captured, but two Rangers had been wounded in one of the assaults. Fortunately, nothing serious. As I started to leave the building, I noticed the young guard at the Entry Control Point (ECP) carefully and methodically arranging the access badges on the table in front of her. Many of the soldiers who supported my special operations force were on a one-year deployment, and owing to the classified nature of our missions, most had no clue as to who we were. I stopped briefly to chat with her. She was new to the Army. From Ohio. Loved the Buckeyes. Had three brothers. Made her tough. One of her brothers joined the Marines. But he was still stateside. She was the first of her family to serve in the Army. First to go to war. She was proud. She was a bit scared. But people here were nice. In the next hour during my walk around the base, I swung by the motor pool, where I found there was a shortage of mechanics. I passed by the laundromat, where half the machines didn't work, and now I was heading to the last stop on my walk—the guard towers. Private Joey Benson from Colorado turned out to be a talkative fellow. Old for a private, he hated the Army. But after a number of misdemeanor violations, the judge didn't give him much choice. It was jail or the Army. He hated the Army, he said again, but he loved his fellow soldiers. He hated the Army, but he actually enjoyed being in Afghanistan. The next morning at our standard worldwide video conference, I took to the microphone one last time. "Folks, I did my walkaround last night and I discovered a few things. I want each of you commanders and senior NCOs to address these important issues." On the thirty video screens in front of me, I could see pens preparing to write down the next great commandments from on high. "First, I want all the support soldiers briefed on who we are as a task force. Next, I want every senior NCO to check their laundromats and ensure all the machines are working. After that, I want the commanders to review the vehicle-to-mechanic ratio in your motor pools. Finally, I want each watchtower supervisor to do an individual inspection prior to every watch rotation." Every leader understands that nothing is more important to the success of a mission than the morale of the troops. But leaders often misunderstand the nature of morale. Morale is not just about the employees feeling good, it is about the employees feeling valued. It is about the rank and file having the resources they need to do their job. It is about the troops believing that their leader is listening to their concerns. Leaders can often convince themselves that they are too important to be dealing with the mundane issues of the organization. They, the true leaders, are meant to be solving the intractable problems, the problems that will advance the organization to the next level, the problems that only the smartest men or women in the company can solve. Never forget that there are also problems that need solving at the lowest possible level. Problems that, if not addressed, result in inefficiency, ineffectiveness, and low morale.

Summary

Through the battlefields of Afghanistan, the waters off San Clemente Island, and countless command centers around the world, the essence of true leadership emerges with striking clarity. It begins with integrity as your foundation - the unwavering commitment to truth and honor that earns respect even in the darkest moments. Trust follows, built slowly through demonstrated character and competence, creating bonds that sustain organizations through their most challenging trials. Great leadership requires the confidence to make decisions when others hesitate, the humility to perform even the smallest tasks with excellence, and the stamina to bring energy every day to inspire those who follow. It demands the courage to embrace initiative and calculated risk, the wisdom to communicate clearly so everyone moves as one, and the humility to walk among those you lead, listening to their concerns and addressing their needs. As Admiral McRaven's journey reveals, leadership isn't about complex theories or sophisticated strategies - it's about timeless principles applied with unwavering commitment, principles that can transform ordinary individuals into extraordinary leaders capable of inspiring others to achieve the seemingly impossible. Whether facing life-or-death decisions or everyday challenges, these fundamental truths provide the compass that guides us through uncertainty toward lasting impact and meaningful success.

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William H. McRaven

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