By Joe Hap
The call came late. My commander had been in a serious accident. Suddenly, everything I thought I knew about leadership changed. In an instant, I wasn’t preparing for command—I was living it. No ceremony. No speeches. Just a squadron that needed someone steady at the helm.
At that moment, theory and Professional Military Education (PME) classes fell away. I wasn’t stepping into a future role; I was already in it. What followed was a rapid, unforgiving education in leadership, responsibility, and the unseen weight that comes with sitting in the commander’s chair.
The Unexpected Burden of Command
Although I had prepared for years to one day take command, nothing fully readies you for the weight of it. The moment I stepped into the role, the responsibility settled like armor I hadn’t trained to wear. Every decision was amplified—not only because of the mission but because of the lives behind every signature, policy, and directive I would issue.
In those first weeks, I leaned on my senior NCOs. My operations superintendent, a Senior Master Sergeant, took over the director of operations duties to keep the mission running while I managed new administrative demands. The Master Sergeant (MSgt) flight chief in the CSS anchored administrative processes through an intense inspection prep cycle, and my First Shirt and Executive Officer helped sustain both mission and troop care.
The Weight Behind the Signature
What surprised me most was the weight of my signature. Each folder represented a decision shaping an Airman’s future, from signing OTS packages to fitness paperwork. My recommendations affected whether Airmen could continue their service or face separation.
These weren’t administrative checkboxes. They were lives, hopes, families. Signing each document forced me to slow down, ask questions, and ensure I fully understood the context behind every decision. More than once, I paused before signing and asked my team, “Is there anything else I need to know before I put my name on this?” That habit became one of my best safeguards.
The Unsung Hero: The Commander’s Support Staff
While leadership often focuses on vision and command presence, it’s the commander’s support staff that keeps the squadron functional on a daily basis. My support staff quietly ensured we stayed on top of awards, evaluations, and mandatory reporting requirements that could easily snowball into larger problems. They tracked the numerous taskers flowing in from the group and wing, many of which carried career implications for my Airmen.
There were plenty of evenings when my CSS flight chief would call: “Sir, this eval closes tonight—we need your review.” Without their vigilance, I would have missed important deadlines that directly impacted promotions, decorations, or assignments. I quickly realized that taking care of my CSS wasn’t simply a kindness—it was directly tied to taking care of the Airmen whose futures depended on their work.
Shifting Priorities: From Vision to Daily Stewardship
I entered command with big-picture ideas about leading people. But in reality, command demanded a daily commitment to stewardship—taking care of people and not missing anything.
Every morning brought new emails, taskers, and administrative deadlines—some operational, many administrative, all important. The group sent dozens of suspenses every week—some critical, some minor—but every one required timely attention. Layered beneath that were the career-impacting documents: awards, decorations, evaluations, medical boards, training waivers. Missing even one could have real, long-term consequences for an Airman’s career trajectory.
Command wasn’t just about making hard decisions—it was about being vigilant, ensuring that no Airman fell through the cracks due to inattention or administrative failure.
Lessons That Will Shape Future Command
Command is often romanticized as strategic vision and big decisions. But more often, it starts—and sometimes ends—at the very human level. People need presence, advocacy, and attention far more than speeches. My SNCOs taught me humility. My CSS taught me organization. My Airmen taught me perspective and grace.
When my permanent commander returns, I will hand back the guidon knowing I’ve carried the weight, learned the lessons, and better understand the true scope of command responsibility. Future command won’t be something I simply look forward to—it will be something I approach with greater care, respect, and vigilance.
Command Reinforced My “Why”
Command came with its fair share of challenges, but the rewarding moments far outweighed the difficulties and deepened my commitment to service. I had the distinct honor of announcing promotions to two groups of deserving personnel and presenting hard-earned decorations and awards to many of my troops during my time in command. Witnessing the pride and emotion on their faces during those career-defining moments made it all worthwhile. Being there to support and recognize these exceptional Americans was both humbling and profoundly meaningful.
Leading Without Warning
The day I took command wasn’t what I had pictured. But that’s often how leadership begins—unexpectedly, without warning, and without a script. Looking back, I now understand: command isn’t about waiting for the perfect moment. It’s about answering the phone call, stepping forward, and carrying the weight that comes next.
Major Joe Hap is an Active Duty Air Force Intelligence Officer. He is currently serving as a staff officer and has previously served as an acting Squadron Commander, Director of Operations, Flight Commander, and Chief of Wing Intelligence.
