Kylee, a 14 year old soccer player was uncomfortable with the language the opposing coach was using at his own team. When the language became vulgar and degrading she went to him and asked if he would refrain from such talk while she was on the field. Shocked at her request he brushed her off and continued. A short time later she went to her coach and asked to be taken out of the game. How many 14 year olds have that kind of presence and character. She is definitely (CM)2. Do you have a (CM)2 experience to share?

Preparing for the Battle of New York in August of 1776, the odds stacked heavily against the poorly trained and lesser equipped Revolutionary Army, General George Washingon wrote to his commanding officers the following:

“The General is sorry to be informed that the foolish and wicked practice of profane cursing and swearing, a vice heretofore little known in our American army, is growing into fashion. He hopes the officers will, by example as well as influence, endeavor to check it and that both they and the men will reflect that we can have little hope of the blessing of heaven on our arms if we insult it by our impropriety and folly. Added to this, it is a vice so mean and low, without any temptation, that every man of sense and character detests and despises it.”

- General Orders, (3 Aug 1776), Fitzpatrick 5:367

I was a 2nd Lieutenant fresh out of helicopter pilot training and had been assigned to the 1st Tactical Fighter Wing. As the new guy on the block, I could feel the steady gaze and intense scrutiny of everyone sizing me up. Obviously, I wanted to do well and be well liked. (I’ve found that 85% of success depends upon one’s people skills.) In this particular instance, however, popularity would take a back seat to moral decency, as I will explain.

I had been in the unit about a week and was already unhappy with the filthy language that was used commonly throughout the day. I had just returned from flying a local upgrade sortie and was busy putting away my flight helmet, survival vest, and other gear in our life-support room when I heard once again the foulest language ever to permeate a work environment. I sat down for a debriefing and, to my dismay, the horrific language continued. Although I was the lowest ranking officer present at the time, I had had enough. I stood up, walked over to the other men and, pointing at them, told them in a loud, uncompromising voice, “If you are so bankrupt in the English language as to be unable to express yourself without using the “F” word, either depart or shut up!” The entire room went dead silent. In an instant everyone knew what my standards of conduct were, and, although far from perfect, the language improved vastly whenever I was present.

I was blessed and enjoyed an extremely successful 4-year stint with the 1st Tactical Fighter Wing, and the moral stand I took that day early in my assignment set the tone for my future successes.

- David Cordon Col., USAF

I guess you could say I have always been patriotic. I was brought up that way. My dad is a retired infantry officer. One important thing I’ve learned from him is that our freedom is not something we should take for granted. I’ve come to respect and honor those who have fought and those who have given their lives so we can enjoy the blessings and opportunities we have.

My mom is also as patriotic as they come. For example, when we’re watching a football game on TV and they play the national anthem, she makes everyone in the room stand up and put their hands over their hearts. Between the two of them, I’ve inherited a feeling of gratitude for the freedoms of my country. That is why on July 24, 2001, I joined the U.S. Marine Corps reserves. Because I was still in high school, I was in the delayed-entry program and didn’t actually go to boot camp until June 2002, after I had graduated.

Quite often my mom and I sat up late at night talking about anything and everything. Right before I left for boot camp, we were having one of those late-night talks. We discussed how important it was that I keep my standards high and not give in to some of the temptations I might face. She asked me right then if I would promise her that I would not pick up swearing while at boot camp. I made her that promise, even though I knew it might be hard to keep because of the environment I would be in. On June 12, I arrived at the San Diego, California, Marine Corps recruit depot. Right from the start, any identity we had was taken away. We all wore the same uniforms, wore the same brown horn-rimmed glasses, and had the same haircut, which was no hair! We were not allowed to refer to ourselves as “I” or “me.” We were to say “this recruit” when speaking about ourselves.

We got about five hours of sleep a night. We were on the go 19 hours a day. Part of the time we were in classes. Other times we were running or learning to march, and the rest of the time we were in the field learning things like martial arts, takedowns, and bayonet training. I had three drill instructors and one senior drill instructor, who was as big as a horse. His neck and biceps were the size of tree trunks.

One day my platoon of 83 recruits was in the field doing a drill. One recruit, who was the “enemy,” tried to take our rifles away. We had to fight to prevent him from getting it. Once we had control of our rifle, we were told to point it at the enemy and yell, “Get down, _____!” calling him a profane name. As I stood there in line waiting for my turn and watching one recruit after another do the drill, I thought about the promise I had made to my mom. It would be easy to give in just this once and talk like a “real” marine. But I knew it would be wrong. I had made a promise, and now I was being put to the test. It was finally my turn. I fought the enemy, got control of my rifle, pointed it at him, and yelled, “Get down!”

My drill instructors stopped the drill and yelled at me to do it again the right way and say what they told me to say. I did the drill again, pointed the rifle at the other recruit, and yelled, “Get down!” Suddenly I had two drill instructors in my face, yelling and screaming at me. My senior drill instructor came over and stood half an inch from my face and yelled at me to obey the order I was given and do the drill the way I was ordered to do it.

It was now crunch time. Do I give in or stand up for what I know is right and keep the promise? I stood at attention and said, “This recruit does not swear, sir!” Everyone went silent.

There was not a sound as all eyes went back and forth between me and my four drill instructors. I didn’t know what would happen to me next. I wondered if I’d be harassed by all the recruits or commanded to do 5,000 push-ups. Finally my senior drill instructor burst out laughing. Everyone else started laughing as well. The drill instructors began joking with me and coming up with other words that I could say instead. I didn’t get in any trouble for keeping my promise. When it was all over, I felt relieved and thankful that I had done the right thing.

My experiences with the Marine Corps have taught me how important it is to keep my standards. No matter how hard some things might seem at the time, if you try to do what’s right, you’ll have the Lord on your side. And with Him on your side, nothing is impossible.

- Brian Stenquist

I was an eighteen-year-old freshman on a football scholarship at the University of Central Oklahoma. On my second day of practice, Coach asked me to go up against Matt, a senior defensive tackle and all-American the year before, in the Oklahoma Drill, an intense, one-on-one contest in which you fight to push your opponent backwards three yards. Playing a best-of-five-rounds match, we went at it.

In round one, Matt basically lifted me off the ground and planted me straight on my back. After composing myself, I resolved not to waste this chance to prove my toughness, to myself and the team. Refocused and with newfound determination, I fought Matt to a standstill in round two, which ended in a draw. In rounds three and four, I actually beat him, to the surprise of many. Needless to say, I was pumped.

By now, Matt was furious. He was swearing and spitting up a storm and kept referring to me derisively as “son.” Using that as motivation, I steeled myself for the fifth and final round. As expected, it was a battle, but I won it and the match. Matt couldn’t believe he’d been defeated, and, truth be told, neither could I. In the locker room after practice, Matt congratulated me and offered me a twelve-pack of beer. When I asked him to make that a twelve-pack of Gatorade, he made fun of my request and broadcast it to the guys in the locker room. Many of them laughed, and so did I. Undeterred, I thanked him for trying to be kind but insisted I would not accept any alcohol, then walked out of the locker room, feeling like a true winner.

The next day before practice, Matt apologized to me in front of the other guys, then handed over a twelve-pack of Gatorade. From that day forward, Matt was my close friend and mentor. He later thanked me for standing up for myself and my values.

- Drew Brazier