It was just before midnight on the second day of Ranger School. I was crawling, nose-deep, through a slurry of red Georgia clay beneath a low-hanging web of barbed wire. The past 36 hours had been a blur of nonstop physical activity and every nerve ending, muscle fiber and bone in my body was screaming at me to quit.
And, I was starting to agree with them.
But I was surrounded by some of the toughest people on the planet who were going through the same punishing trials as I was. What if I told one of them I was ready to quit? What would they think of me? What kind of a loser would they think I was?
My biggest fear was admitting my weakness to one of them. Yet, I couldn’t ignore the pain and the fatigue and the doubt growing in my mind. So, desperate for a lifeline, I reached out to the guy to my right as we ran to the next obstacle and told him, “I can’t do this. I think I’m going to quit.”
Surprised, he looked at me, “What?”
“I said, I’m thinking about quitting!”
He put his arm around my back, “C’mon, man. You can do this! Don’t quit on m! I need you.” He sounded as desperate as me. This was a guy I’d only known since o’dark-thirty the day before and now he was acting like he needed me.
“Sixty-plus more day of this!?” I said. “It just doesn’t seem possible!”
“Look Eakin, I’m hurting bad too, believe me! Tell you what, get through tonight, with me, and tomorrow, we’ll quit together.”
I committed to the deal. And, at some point in the night, we were given a chance to get a few precious hours of rest.
A sharp kick to the bottom of my boot woke me up. I looked up to find a vaguely familiar silhouette reaching down to pick me up off the ground. “Hello, Eakin. It’s morning.”
“Yeah,” I grumbled.
“We made it through last night,” he said with just a little too much cheer for my defeated attitude at the time.
“Yeah, I know.”
Then, he winked at me. “You still ready to quit tomorrow?”
A knowing smile and a handshake between brothers followed my realization of what that meant.
“Yes,” I said. “Let’s quit… tomorrow.”
I learned that “surrender” is not in a Ranger’s vocabulary, and 60-some days and 35 pounds later, we graduated from the toughest leadership course in the world... together.
The Army culture recognizes and rewards those who contribute to a common mission within the framework of these core values: loyalty, duty, respect, selfless service, honor, integrity and personal courage. It’s an environment where success happens because people trust the soldier to their left and to their right, not just to do their jobs, but to rise above the most challenging and sometimes punishing conditions to help each other.
So, after I left the military, I felt lost in a corporate world where the value of relationships is primarily based on a “What’s in it for me?” attitude. I didn’t know who I could trust. I felt misunderstood and judged, and I judged back. I viewed myself as a lone warrior, unwilling to surrender to that way of thinking, but at the same time, lacking an effective strategy for responding to it without being abrasive.
The mounting frustration in my professional life overflowed onto my personal relationships. It was a downward spiral fed by isolation, shame and fear. I became a person I never thought I’d be, and I hurt people I loved.
A familiar pattern repeated itself at my second job. I was able to build trust with the people I worked with, and together, we achieved breakthrough performance, creating enormous profits for the people we worked for. But, at the same time, I really struggled to build trust with the people who had the real power over my career. Over time, my connections with them eroded to bare threads.
The building conflict became politically-charged, and when I let my frustration get the best of me one day, all it took was one wrong word out of my mouth. When I turned to my left and to my right, no one was there. I’d truly become that lone warrior. And, alone, I was fired.
I had a really hard time reconciling what had happened. I just couldn’t figure out where I fit in.
One morning, in a moment of despair, I cried out to an empty house, “How in the hell am I ever going to be successful if I always have to work with people who think like this?”
The question made me feel helpless, as if I were a victim. I feared I was on the brink of a psychological and spiritual fall from which I might never recover.
The minute those words came out of my mouth, I knew something was wrong. The question made me feel helpless as if I were a victim. I feared I was on the brink of a psychological and spiritual fall from which I’d never recover.
Then, a voice from a forgotten place deep down inside asked me this, “Well, Tom, what does success even look like to you?” So, I answered, “Well, if people were to say that I was a respectful, loyal and honorable man, that I was creative and courageous, and willing to help others, even when it was hard, especially when it was really hard, that would be success.”
That conversation with myself changed everything. It saved my life.
It reminded me of a few truths I’d learned as a soldier, but had obviously forgotten.
One, I never did any of it alone.
Two, my true success doesn’t come in the form of title, position, or accumulation of things. It comes from serving something greater than myself.
And three, it’s about core values. Integrity only comes with loyalty, duty, respect, honor and courage… and trustworthiness… and love.
It doesn’t matter if you’re a Ranger, a manager, a father or a friend, success and happiness begin and end with relationships. It’s all about connection, trust, and love.
I started Brotherhood Trust & Love because I believe those three words capture the kind of satisfaction the people who live in America are really seeking, especially veterans like me.
Brotherhood is the pinnacle of connection which begins where values, interests, and need intersect with a willingness to understand and accept.
Trust is built through shared experiences where people prove themselves to be trustworthy to others... even when it’s hard.
And love is the choice to transcend conflict, distraction and stress, to help another person and to give them what they need… especially when it’s really hard.
When it comes to finding purpose in today’s world, it’s like crawling under a tangled web of barbed wire, trying to figure out what to do, how to do it, who to do it with, and most importantly, why you’re doing it.
Through Brotherhood Trust & Love, we’re creating an environment where conversations happen that can help each of us understand what’s most important. We’re moving forward, win or lose. We’re remembering it’s always today, and together, we will always quit tomorrow.
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Tom Eakin is the founder of Brotherhood Trust & Love Siouxland, which aims to create long-term transition success for veterans and military families.
Ode is a storytelling series where community members tell true stories on stage to promote positive impact through empathy. It is produced by Siouxland Public Media.
The next event is 7 p.m. Friday, April 7 at the Peirce Mansion. The theme is “Growing up Is Hard to Do.” Tickets are available at kwit.org. For more information, visit facebook.com/odestorytelling.
