By Sam Balch
The Paratroopers stand quietly in the PAX shed, helmets on, heavy rucks pulling on their shoulders, face paint applied, and parachutes strapped tight. A Jumpmaster moves deliberately down the line, inspecting every strap, snap, stitch, and buckle. Nothing escapes their attention. The Jumpmaster has been trained, tested, and certified through a process that demands perfection because one unchecked detail could cost a Soldier their life. When the Jumpmaster finishes their inspection, they give the jumper the final seal of approval and sign their own name on the jumper’s helmet.
In the airborne community, this inspection (the Jumpmaster Personnel Inspection, or JMPI) is sacred. It is the final safeguard before a Paratrooper jumps out of the aircraft into the void. Every leader who bears the title of “Jumpmaster” understands the weight of that responsibility and endures a grueling process to become certified to hold that title.
Now picture a different scene.
It’s early morning in a motor pool in Germany. A howitzer section in the 2nd Cavalry Regiment hooks up a M777A2 to an FMTV prime mover before heading out to platoon live fire. The section is running late, and have already missed their scheduled departure. The frustrated section chief conducts a quick walk-around of the vehicle, loads the truck with Soldiers, quickly signs the dispatch, and the vehicle begins to roll.
Three miles outside the gate, smoke starts to pour from the howitzer’s wheels, and flames engulf the howitzer carriage. The brakes have caught fire. The section halts, extinguishes the fire, unhooks the howitzer, and calls recovery. By the time the entire ordeal is over, the damage totals tens of thousands of dollars and the training day ends before it starts, all because no leader checked the howitzer brake lines before departure. Thankfully, no one was injured or killed.
These two moments reveal a stark contrast between two cultures. In one, inspections are treated as a sacred act, performed by leaders, tied directly to life and death. In the other, inspections are treated as an administrative burden —a paper drill that only acts as an obstacle between the motorpool and “real training.”
The Problem
During the summer of 2025, the Field Artillery Squadron (FAS) of the 2d Cavalry Regiment (2CR) faced an uncomfortable truth: its formation was operating on a cracked foundation. Leaders were busy, timelines were tight, and risk management had become an afterthought. The same artillery NCOs who could calculate firing data to the nearest tenth of a mil were signing dispatches without ever walking around the vehicle. It wasn’t that anyone stopped caring; it was that familiarity had replaced focus.
Once in the field for Company Life Fire Exercises, the Regiment experienced a string of preventable mishaps: three M777s with burned-out brakes, a howitzer that came loose from its tow pintle and broke a Soldier’s arm, multiple Stryker accidents, and a JLTV rollover that miraculously left the crew unharmed. None stemmed from malice or gross negligence. They came from habit, complacency, and a slow drift from the discipline that once defined the unit.
Recognizing this drift, the Regimental Commander challenged every formation to rebuild discipline from the ground up using a new framework, S.O.A.L.: Standardization, Ownership, Accountability, and Leader Certification. The Squadron took that charge literally. It sought to make inspections meaningful again, treating a vehicle inspection with the same reverence an airborne unit gives a Jumpmaster inspecting a Paratrooper.
Standardization
Before SOAL’s “pre-jump,” leaders were required to inspect vehicles before departure; however, these checks often focused on paperwork, including dispatch packets, warning triangles, and compliance items. Important, yes, but insufficient to prevent a brake fire or trailer separation.
In the airborne community, there is no ambiguity about standards. Every Jumpmaster trains and inspects in the same sequence, using the same definitions and terminology. A major deficiency, such as a chest strap misrouted through the quick-release or a misrouted static line, can kill a jumper. A minor deficiency, such as a twisted leg strap or an unsecured stow band, may only cause discomfort or a minor injury. Every Jumpmaster in every unit speaks the same language, rehearsed until instinctive. Standards are taken seriously because in airborne operations, the margin for error is life or death.
Yet every day, we send vehicles weighing tens of thousands of pounds onto public roads with Soldiers in the back, and we often treat those inspections as routine. If mistakes in the air can kill, why don’t we treat the ground the same way?
The Squadron applied that mindset to its vehicle fleet. Minor deficiencies were any issues that could cause minor damage or pose a potential hazard, such as a brake light being unplugged or a water jug not being fully secured. Major deficiencies were those that could cause catastrophic damage or life-threatening risk: an air hose not applied to M777 brakes, a missing cotter pin from a tow pintle, or a parking brake left engaged.
Even the inspection sequence became standardized. Every leader began on the left side of the vehicle and moved clockwise. There was no hidden logic to it beyond consistency. Every vehicle, every time.
Battery-level leaders captured the process in a written SOP. The Squadron Commander reminded them that if it isn’t written down, it doesn’t exist. Writing also forces clarity: we don’t truly know what we think until we put it into words. Documenting the inspection sequence, deficiency definitions, and certification procedures ensured the standard would endure beyond any single rotation.
Ownership
Standardization alone is not enough. Precision must be paired with personal responsibility.
In the airborne community, Jumpmasters take personal responsibility for their Paratroopers. When a jumper exits the aircraft, that Jumpmaster’s name and honor go with them. When I was a young captain and newly minted Jumpmaster, I began to JMPI a Paratrooper from another battery. The First Sergeant stopped me and said, “Sir, thank you, but nobody JMPIs the Soldiers in my battery except me or my NCOs.” It wasn’t arrogance, it was ownership.
The Squadron adopted that same philosophy. Leaders, not drivers or vehicle commanders, conduct the final inspection before any vehicle leaves the gate. The section chief, platoon sergeant, or platoon leader performs the last check personally, and only the Battery Commander or First Sergeant can give the final seal of approval before a vehicle exits the motorpool. That act communicates something profound to Soldiers: “This equipment and this crew are my responsibility.”
Accountability
Ownership builds trust; accountability sustains it.
In the airborne community, accountability is absolute. When a jumper exits an aircraft, the inspection record follows them. If something goes wrong, investigators start with the Jumpmaster’s log. That sense of personal responsibility drives the meticulous focus that defines airborne culture.
The Squadron mirrored that discipline. Leaders who missed a major deficiency during any inspection were immediately decertified until they completed retraining. The goal wasn’t to punish but to preserve trust. A certification is only meaningful if it carries weight.
One platoon leader learned that lesson firsthand when a cross-inspection team found a cracked brake line on a howitzer he had just signed off as “good to go.” He lost his certification for a week and retrained under the maintenance NCOIC. Word spread quickly.
Another story told of two platoon sergeants who cross-inspected each other’s vehicles before a live fire. One caught a missing cotter pin on a tow pintle that could have released the gun on the road. Instead of embarrassment, the exchange produced respect. Accountability became shared, not punitive. Leaders began holding each other to the same standard Jumpmasters uphold in the PAX shed: competent, professional, and absolute.
Leader Certification
Like Airborne or Air Assault School, the certification program combined classroom instruction with hands-on testing. Subject-matter experts (master drivers, senior maintainers, and experienced chiefs of section) taught detailed blocks of instruction on each vehicle platform. They walked leaders through every cable, latch, and locking mechanism. Each class concluded with a laminated list of known major and minor deficiencies, serving as the “pre-jump” checklist for vehicle operations.
The real test came outside, in the heat of the day. Leaders rotated through testing lanes where vehicles had been deliberately rigged with deficiencies. They had to identify 80 percent of minor and 100 percent of major deficiencies to certify.
And, just like JMPI, the standard spared no rank. During the first round, the Squadron XO failed his initial JLTV test after missing a Landing-Leg Lock on the JLTV trailer, a major deficiency. His public “no-go” set the tone: everyone, regardless of rank, was accountable to the same standard.
A Stryker Fire Support Vehicle section was later decertified after lowering its ramp without following proper safety procedures. The section retrained, retested, and became one of the best in the formation.
By design, certifications were valid for six months. Like Jumpmaster status, proficiency had to be refreshed regularly. The recertification process kept the standard alive and the inspections meaningful.
Certification became more than a requirement; it was a contract between commanders and the leaders to whom they delegated authority. By certifying a leader, a commander was saying, “I trust you to perform your mission and safeguard your Soldiers and equipment. By earning certification, each leader replied, You can trust me to uphold the standard.”
That contract transformed a checklist into an act of leadership: a visible reminder that authority and responsibility must always advance in tandem.
What Changed
The results were immediate. Within the first month, the number of vehicle accidents dropped sharply. Rollouts from the motorpool slowed and became more deliberate. Leaders crouched beneath trailers instead of standing behind clipboards. Soldiers began correcting each other before the first inspection even started.
More importantly, the culture shifted. Inspections shifted from focusing on compliance to prioritizing care. Leaders took visible pride in the act itself. Motor pools grew into quieter, more focused places, echoing the atmosphere of a PAX shed before an airborne jump.
Reflection
As the Squadron refined the program, its leaders came to understand that inspections are more than a safety measure: they are a statement of leadership. They communicate what a unit values. When Soldiers see their platoon sergeants tracing brake lines in the rain, they learn that attention to detail matters everywhere, not just on the firing point. As the Stoics taught, excellence is not a single act but a habit. Inspection is not an event but a culture.
How to Start in Your Unit
Any formation that operates vehicles can build its own certification system without new resources or funding. The process is simple, but it requires commitment.
- Start Small: Pick one platform: JLTV, FMTV, or M777, and one lane to test leaders.
- Use Existing Expertise: Master Drivers, Master Gunners, and maintainers make the best instructors.
- Publish Standards: Post laminated deficiency lists in every bay and put them in the hands of every leader. They must be written down in an SOP!
- Certify Regularly: Six-month cycles keep leaders sharp and prevent standards drift.
- Model the Behavior: Command teams perform the first inspections themselves.
You don’t need a schoolhouse to create accountability. You need standards, ownership, and leaders willing to set the tone. Scan the QR code below to see sample vehicle inspection scorecards that the 2CR Field Artillery Squadron used to certify its leaders.
The Leadership Lesson
Field Artillery prides itself on precision. Crews calculate deflection to the mil and powder temperature to the degree. Yet precision cannot start when we load the first round; it must begin in the motor pool.
The airborne community has long understood that inspection is leadership. The same principle applies on the ground. Every vehicle inspection, every brake test, every tow hookup is an opportunity for leaders to demonstrate discipline, ownership, and care for their Soldiers.
Whether it’s a Paratrooper standing in the door or a howitzer section rolling toward a live fire, the truth remains: leaders are the final safeguard before risk leaves the gate.
If your unit operates vehicles, don’t wait for a mishap to expose the cracks in your foundation. Build your own SOAL-based certification program. Teach your leaders to inspect with purpose and consistency. Hold them accountable to the same rigor we expect of Jumpmasters.
Because in both the air and on the ground, the inspection isn’t just about equipment; it’s about the culture it creates, the discipline it enforces, and the lives it protects.
Major Sam Balch serves as the Executive Officer for the Field Artillery Squadron, 2d Cavalry Regiment, stationed in Vilseck, Germany. He has served in the 4th Infantry Division, 82nd Airborne Division, The US Army Field Artillery School, and is a graduate of the USMC Expeditionary Warfare School and Naval War College. He is married to his wife and best friend, Major Sara Roger, an Executive Officer in the 41st Field Artillery Brigade.
