
By: Joshua Risner
In the Right Place
I turned 15 on 9/11. I was raised in a patriotic household in rural America, by a family that valued and demonstrated service to others, to the community, and to the Nation. Like so many others, 9/11 was the catalyst for my entry into the military, albeit several years later, once the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq became old news in the national psyche.
From the very first ROTC field exercise I took part in, I knew I was in the right place. I gravitated towards the structure, purpose, and sense of camaraderie the Army offered. After commissioning and graduating flight school, I was fortunate to become a flight platoon leader and deploy to Afghanistan. The challenges, failures, and successes of leadership kept me engaged and fulfilled. Company command–again in a flight company, and again in Afghanistan–was even better. I was blessed with an amazing company of talented and hard-working people that gave me reason to endure the more unsavory aspects of Army life. I will forever cherish the bonds I formed with my Soldiers during command.
..and Then It Changed
However, as my career progressed, I chafed at the unmet expectations and mind-numbing aspects of the Army: clueless higher headquarters (or so I thought), endless time wasted, being treated like a child, and being expected to treat other adults like children. The usual. That said, I did my best to stay committed to my people despite the temptation to phone it in. I tolerated bureaucracy as well, or as poorly, as anyone else.
That was, until the onset of my field grade years. I attended the Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) at Fort Leavenworth in 2020. As you might recall, the Army and Department of Defense at large did not exactly exude compassion or understanding during that time. Although I escaped relatively unscathed, I witnessed truly needless inconveniences and outright chicanery toward many other people. These experiences put an increasingly bitter taste in my mouth. Further, the CGSOC was an underwhelming experience. It was like living each day in a relationship built upon gaslighting and irony. I came to grips with how little the institution seemed to truly value independent thought, and was glad to graduate and head to my next duty station.
The move to my following duty station brought about the typical stressors, but also the news that my wife and I were expecting our fourth child. Happy news, overall. Except the fact that the second half of my wife’s pregnancy happened to coincide with the four months I would spend in Eastern Europe on the tail end of an Atlantic Resolve rotation. Being my first trip to Europe, I expected plentiful training opportunities to learn from Allied militaries and the opportunity to sharpen my organizational leadership.
That expectation came to a screeching halt when my first discussion with the section’s NCO consisted of topics such as where everyone flocked to on the weekends, the best stores at the mall to pick up a track suit, the cleanest bars, the best sushi joints, and oh yeah… something about a training event next month in Germany. But we were not going to have too much of a role to play, “thankfully.” The fact that 25% of the time I spent in Eastern Europe comprised of weekends and scheduled days off was demoralizing. To me, it was priceless time with my pregnant wife and three young children that I would never get back.




