Rangers conduct close quarters combat skills training (U.S. Army photo)
The Gift – A Lesson in Failure
A few years ago, I observed a platoon of Rangers conduct squad-level, multiple-room clearance operations (Battle Drill #6a) on a hot Georgia summer night. As a young fire support officer, the skill and efficiency of each squad appeared exceptional, but the First Sergeant wasn’t impressed. “Tonight’s going to be a long one,” he said after the first squad finished. As I stood on the catwalk, I watched three squads of various skill navigate the scenario during the blank iteration and not one achieved the First Sergeant’s benchmark for excellence.
After each iteration, the elements received feedback in the form of an After-Action Review (AAR). For most, this was not a pleasant experience, but the feedback was necessary if these squads were going to achieve the level of excellence expected of a Ranger Rifle Squad. Following the AARs, each squad conducted their second attempt. One squad met the standard and were ready for their live iteration. The sequence repeated and another squad met the standard. The third squad, now publicly exposed as the weakest of the platoon, was visibly frustrated. The struggling squad eventually met the standard, but not until much later in the evening.
The transition from the blank-fire to the live-fire created a short break and I used that opportunity to see what the First Sergeant was thinking. As we sat on the catwalk, I wondered out loud something to the effect of, “It’s hard to fail that many times and have the confidence to perform a live-fire.” First Sergeant looked at me, assuredly, and said, “Sir, just watch.”
Counter to my speculation, the struggling squad executed a near perfect night live-fire, outperforming the others. On the ride back to the company area, my command team discussed the deliberately difficult training and the First Sergeant said something that expanded my understanding of failure and informs my training design approach to this day – “The greatest gift we can ever give these guys is their worst day.” That evening I learned, among other things, that failure is central to effective training, and the best way to capitalize on failure was through measured pressure and iterative, incremental progression.
Pressure
Pressure is a product of continuous force upon another object. In training, that force is attributable to fatigue, the environment, and often fear. In combination, these factors increase the probability of a participant failing to meet a training objective. The question then becomes, can we frame those circumstances in a productive manner?
Imposing productive failure and steady pressure on a learner accelerates meaningful improvement. It is common to fear letting down a teammate or not measuring up to a standard, and even in a training environment, these stressful conditions can increase the pressure on its participants. Vice Admiral (R) James Stockdale, known for his heroic resiliency as a seven-year P.O.W in the Hanoi Hilton, coined this concept the “Pressure Cooker.” In arguing for its utility, he posited “knowing how to handle pressure is necessary for survival. It is related to a man’s ability to wrest control of his destiny from the circumstances that surround him.” Withstanding the crucible of pressure is a positive and imperative force necessary for developing a culture of learning.
The cost of failure as a result of succumbing to pressure is much higher in combat than in training. In the case of the struggling Ranger squad, the over-bearing pressure of continuous failure created a stark choice for the squad leader. He and his element could (a) take control and improve, or (b) proceed to fail. In combat, choice (b)’s price is paid in the blood of American patriots. First Sergeant made that training event painful by design. It is better to have their worst day in a shoot-house in Southwest Georgia than on a raid going after armed enemy combatants.
Iterative, Incremental Progression
After observing First Sergeant train each squad in the shoot house, I quickly grasped the art of his training method but fell short of its science. It wasn’t until later in my career that I was introduced to iterative, incremental progression (IIP), a concept frequently used in Silicon Valley to build efficiencies in software development. The strategy behind IIP is to employ a system that develops a learner through repetition (iteration) in measured, shorter time frames (increments). As a learner navigates the system, failure serves as an indicator warranting further attention. IIP allows us to observe and correct faults during each iteration, making feedback more effective. For instance, on-the-spot remediation or recycling the iteration to its start (known as the dreaded re-cock), become more interrelated with the behavior in need of modification.
In training, mistakes occur in aggregate over time. How often do we allow the learner to continue the behavior until the event concludes and hope we successfully wade through a laundry list of mistakes in the AAR? Iterative, incremental progression closes the distance between an undesired action and criticism. This process helps the participants learn the correct behavior at a faster rate.
In the case of the struggling squad, they experienced IIP orchestrated by the First Sergeant. The squad executed the lane, subject to the First Sergeant halting their action and forcing the element to repeat a failed subtask. This approach began to reveal its value as I watched First Sergeant hit pause, rewind or fast-forward on each squad; never missing an opportunity to provide feedback. In short, the squad failed fast to learn fast.
Failure is complementary to effective training. Specifically, harnessing the pressure imposed by failure, while using the IIP model to shorten the failure-feedback loop, maximizes the effects of remediation. Though the example of the Ranger platoon arose from a company grade officer experience, it is applicable at any organizational echelon, acknowledging relative costs increase with unit size. I argue giving the gift of “their hardest day” will always be worth the expense.
MAJ Kurt Wasilewski is currently a student at the United States Naval War College. A Field Artillery officer, he has been honored to serve as a battery commander in the 10thMountain Division as well as both a company and battalion fire support officer in the 75thRanger Regiment.
Your observations in the shoot-house have an equally likely explanation, regression towards the mean. All teams and players tend to regress towards the mean, thus “better” performers may perform poorly on their next go through the house, while the “poor” performers appears to improve. This tendency to move towards the mean has given many coaches a false sense that punishment is effective and praise ineffective. Empirical investigation tends to refute this.
IIP involves the gradual addition of features during multiple complete cycles, after the deployment of a basic version of the software. The squad appeared to have attempted the same thing again and again, but were reset by the 1SG. This is more consistent with resetting a waterfall approach, than IIP. IIP would have involved breaking the clearing into smaller pieces, and gradually adding them to the basic concept, allowing the squad to add features as they learned thru each cycle.