Everyone in the world, even those who think they are guiltless, has committed an infraction of some law, some code, or some ethos at one time in their lives. With all the variables that are currently in place, it's impossible not to. There are those who believe that every infraction should be punished in some way. I submit that those particular people have no idea what kind of damage they can do.
Sometime in 1990, while I was stationed in Camp Lejeune, North Carolina, a marine (let's call him Fred) who controlled the military ID cards told me that he had issued a fake ID to another marine (let's call him Barney) in order for him to get into a bar (the only information on the ID that was actually fake was the age). Both men were 19 years-old. Both of them worked for me. I, of course, worked for another marine (let's call him Slater) who happened to be on leave at the time. We all worked in the battalion administrative center.
The reason that Fred told me about it was because he realized he had made a mistake and didn't want to see Barney get into trouble, no matter how remote the possibility. Barney had no idea that Fred had confessed. In my professional opinion, both of them had made mistakes that could set them back if I didn't handle it properly. I had to accomplish two things after finding out: One, I had to retrieve the fake ID card and two, I had to make them realize that what they did was wrong without taking a stripe and pay away from them. Court-martial or nonjudicial punishment was not the answer to the problem.
I couldn't just come right out and ask Barney to give me the fake ID card. He would deny having it and destroy it afterward. It would then be Barney's word against Fred's. So I gathered all the men in my office and told them an ID card was missing and that I knew one of them had it. I was going to lunch and if it was in my top desk drawer when I returned, then I wouldn't press charges against anyone. The ID card was there when I returned. I had Fred destroy it and log it as such in the ID card log.
One of the prerequisites to being a good leader is to know your men. I knew my men. Both Fred and Barney were outstanding marines, destined to move up in the military ladder. Both of them were highly motivated and could be counted on to do anything asked of them. Had I chose to press charges, I knew that I would have lost them to the segment of the marine population that was merely biding their time until released from active duty.
The following year, while our battalion and our office staff were camped out in the Middle East, Slater looked at the ID card log and noticed the destroyed ID and asked Fred about it, just out of curiosity. Fred confessed again — guilt's a powerful thing for some people. Slater got angry and had both of them receive nonjudicial punishment from the commanding officer. Slater was so hopping mad, he tried to get the battalion executive officer (his boss and next up in the food chain) to do something about me. I had a conversation with the XO and explained that it was my decision at the time to handle it the way I did. The XO agreed with my assessment of the situation that had occurred, but had been away from the camp when Slater did the deed with the CO. My marines would not have been punished had he been there.
Both Fred and Barney left the service at the end of their contracts. Each had lost a rank and weren't eligible for reenlistment, although they both loved the US Marine Corps. I had failed to keep good marines, knowing that there were bad marines that were allowed to continue in their careers only because they never got caught. Perhaps I made the wrong choice in 1990, but it was my decision and I still, to this day, do not regret that decision.
