JANUARY 2010:

Treat Them As Your Own

Leadership principles for a CACO

By LtCol Steve White

>LtCol White is an infantry officer who has deployed to Iraq. He is currently assigned as the Inspector-Instructor, 1st Bn, 24th Mar. This article was his Hogaboom Leadership Writing Contest entry.

A Marine's death impacts his family as well as his fellow Marines. (Photo by LCpl Michael J. O'Brien.)

One phone call and a fax in July 2003 had a significant impact on my opinion of my own leadership and the Marine Corps. I had been assigned as the casualty assistance calls officer (CACO) for a Marine captain killed in Djibouti during a training exercise. My assignment as a CACO was followed by four more notifications over the next year. For me, knocking on a stranger’s door, telling them that their Marine had been killed, and then helping the family through the funeral arrangements, the paperwork, and the grieving process has been the greatest leadership challenge in my career.

Notifications were never done alone. The first sergeant and another on-duty Marine were always ready to go. I made the decision that I would always be the one to deliver the news to the family. I believed that looking the family members in their eyes and telling them, “On behalf of the Commandant of the Marine Corps, I regret to inform you that your son was killed in combat operations in . . . .” was my responsibility. I never doubted that my Marines could do it, but I believed they should not have to do it. I was there to deliver the news and deal with the initial shock and disbelief, and my Marines were there to help me.

We delivered notifications throughout the year—on a sunny Sunday afternoon to a young wife and her family just cleaning up after a picnic; on a dark, snowy night to a mother who had just finished writing a card to her son; and in the middle of a summer afternoon to a mother and sister in a small southern Ohio town as the neighbors cried outside. Each time was different but somewhat the same. Family members would yell at us, fall to the floor, cry, and pray. Regardless of how each family responded, it was up to me to arrange the next visit in order to prepare for the return and burial of their fallen Marine. As I was returning home from my first notification, I quickly realized that a family could not be led like a platoon of Marines.

How do you “lead” a family through one of the worst experiences of their lives? I was a stranger who showed up on their doorstep with my first sergeant and told them the worst news they would ever receive. My minimal training as a CACO was based upon the viewing of an antiquated video, reading the Marine Corps order, and receiving the guidance, “Do not screw this up.” The whole situation was foreign to me, so I did what came natural; I improvised. I had no personal ties to these families except through the Marine Corps. I decided from the very beginning that I would treat these families as I would want my family to be treated.

Each visit allowed me to modify my leadership style as I interacted with the families. One family was extremely hostile and angry during the second visit, to the point of near confrontation. I returned the next time with a fire team of my largest Marines only to arrive to a home flying a new American flag and a family anxiously awaiting our return. Their anger was replaced by new emotions—gratitude and pride. The family was thankful the Marine Corps was taking care of them and proud of their son’s service. If I had prepared myself by reading up on how families respond to death and grief I could have been prepared to handle all of these situations—another lesson learned in “leading” families.

Another phenomenon that I witnessed was how much families would seek my input on every aspect of dealing with their loss, from where to bury their Marine to whether or not to speak with their Congressman. Cautious of not providing an official endorsement, I provided them my thoughts on what I would want my wife to do. I want to be buried in Arlington National Cemetery, and I would recommend my wife speak to all officials who desired to express their condolences. I am not sure this was the correct way to handle the situation, but it was in line with my new leadership doctrine on how to help a fallen Marine’s family.

Every family wanted one last touch with the Corps. It was a link to their Marine and would help them move on with their lives. As the CACO, my Marines and I filled that void with our visits. But it was the Marines outside of my command, past and present, who really rose to the occasion. The Marine League in Akron, OH, showed up 50 strong, properly outfitted in their red blazers and garrison covers, and marched (a few with canes) into the funeral home in a column of twos to pay their respects to a fallen Marine and his family. For a captain being buried in Arlington, his squadron mates arranged for a flyover at the cemetery even though my request was denied. Over time, especially with the veterans, I had a new appreciation for the statement, “Once a Marine, always a Marine.” The actions of those Marines, past and present, not only eased some of the families’ pain but also confirmed my faith in our Corps.

My last casualty call was conducted in July 2004. It took me more than 5 years to finally express my thoughts about my experience and the leadership lessons I learned. I purposely left out the names of the families with whom I dealt because they have sacrificed enough. I wrote this article to provide my experiences on dealing with the most difficult leadership challenge I have faced and to provide some insight for the next Marine to conduct a notification. Every mission requires an end state. My end state was to treat the family of every fallen Marine like I would want my family to be treated. The end state is not in any Marine Corps order or manual, but it worked for me.