We Have the Potential to Be Legendary

By CAPT Chris “Jean-Luc” Richard, USN, HSMWP

AsI thought about the theme of our upcoming Symposium, “Forging Legacy—Legends Past and Present,” I struggled a bit with what to write. Most of us have not been privileged to personally know any aviation heroes (from the historical perspective), but we know their stories. Our profession is rich in their exploits. They represent the best of us, and they exemplify the courage under fire that we all hope to exhibit if tested. At the most basic level, they show us what is possible when preparation and discipline collide, head first, with adversity. Nevertheless, heroes like Clyde Lassen, Stephen Pless, and Charles French are not part of our first-person experiences, and none of them need a neophyte like me retelling their stories (Google is your friend).

At an uncharacteristic loss for words, I did what I often do in cases like this: I went back to the definition. In reality, our lives are full of people who qualify as legends. In fact, we are all exactly one catastrophic event away from being legendary ourselves. Captain “Sully” Sullenberger did not wake up on January 15, 2009 planning to heroically ditch his Airbus A320 in the Hudson River. He and his copilot were confronted with an extraordinary challenge, and they instinctively relied upon the quality of their training. There was precious little time for debate; they processed the information that their jet was giving them, made a quick risk decision, and fell back upon their preparation to safely ditch their plane in the Hudson River. It was extraordinary airmanship to be sure, but I submit that decisiveness and exceptional Crew Resource Management (CRM) were key to the outcome.

Whether courage under fire or the disciplined procedural execution, many of us have had experiences in the aircraft in which—were it not for preparedness—the outcome could have been catastrophic. I personally know people who have autorotated to the water, landed single-engine on small ships, fought in-flight engine fires at night, egressed from a sinking aircraft, and dealt with total AC power failures in instrument conditions—just to name a few. These professionals remained calm, executed their procedures, and relied upon sound CRM to land (or ditch) their aircraft. Events like these do not make the evening news, but they should be celebrated as they illustrate preparedness and disciplined execution in the face of exceptional adversity. Viewed through that lens, there are legends all around us! By sharing their stories, we reinforce the principles that make Naval Aviation great.

There are also legends among us who have never flown in an aircraft. I have come to realize that once we hang up the flight suit, it will be the impact we had on people’s lives that is remembered—not the programs we managed, our tactical qualifications, or the hours we flew at sea. Those things matter in limited contexts, but they do not change lives. Did you help someone reach his or her potential? Did you create opportunity that would not have existed were it not for your intervention? Did you exude qualities that others chose to emulate? If the answer to any of those questions is “yes,” then you are a legend to someone.

As a young Sailor in the early 90’s, I was lucky enough to cross paths with a Chief Petty Officer who—despite my insufferable arrogance—saw something in me that was worthy of his time. He took a personal interest in my development, and he taught me some important lessons: How to be productive in the workplace, how to set and accomplish goals, and the value of one’s professional reputation. I had nothing to offer him in return other than my admiration, but he set me on a path that led to college, a commission, and a career that continues today. Chief Wells remains a legend in my life.

The profession of arms celebrates the accomplishment of objectives; our legacies, however, will have less to do with the tasks we accomplished and more to do with whether we were honest, forthright, and caring as leaders. It is both poetic and ironic that we often achieve this clarity just as the window to our influence begins to close. As we approach the Symposium in May, we should continue to pay homage to the giants who went before us…the heroes, heroines, and true legends of Naval Aviation. We should also realize that the potential to be legendary exists in all of us—whether inside or outside the aircraft. We must not lose sight of our potential to meaningfully change the lives of others; it requires little more than conscious effort. Given that most of us will never do anything truly heroic in the aircraft, I think it is a legacy worth pursuing.