Tyler Gustafson is ready for anything.
Gustafson, a sociology alumnus, is typing at a computer. A man, confused as to where he’s supposed to be, walks into his office. Gustafson answers his questions, gets up from his desk, consults with his boss and promptly sends the man off in the right direction. Gustafson sits back down and resumes typing. It’s been a minute, tops.
Gustafson, a cadet in the U’s ROTC, knows how to do his job.
“It’s a good way to enter into a good career path,” he said. The brick wall of a man, four years removed from his high school in Oregon, said he always wanted to serve his country. Like many others in the U’s ROTC program, whether they serve overseas or never leave the United States, Gustafson will serve his country by being the best he can be, without compromise.
Halfway down the hall of ROTC’s new home on the second floor of Carson Hall, after its old building was torn down last spring, is a man who couldn’t agree more. His name is Lt. Col. Grant Stanfield, ROTC admissions officer. He’s Gustafson’s direct supervisor8212;and he only gets the best out of the cadet. Leaving Gustafson to his duties in the other room, Stanfield walks over to a glass case filled with medals.
“That gold bar,” Stanfield said, pointing to the medal worn by any first lieutenant in the U.S. Army. It’s no picnic in the park to earn that little gold bar, Stanfield said. No one graduates who doesn’t have one8212;not even one of the program’s 130 students, he said.
Wind, rain, sleet or snow, Gustafson woke up every Monday, Wednesday and Friday at 5:30 a.m. for physical training. After being told to run, and asking how far, and being told to jump, and asking how high, Gustafson marched off to his ROTC courses. That’s on top of the 12 normal credit hours required of anyone in the program.
No matter where he was for the four years he trained, studied, then trained some more, Gustafson did exactly what he was told and to the best of his ability8212;because it’s what was asked of him.
“They don’t prepare you necessarily for battle,” he said. “It helped me build a professional state of mind and stay motivated when times are hard.”
Not that Gustafson isn’t ready for combat if or when he’s asked. Once he’s done working at the ROTC office, he’s off to Fort Lewis in Tacoma, Wash., and potentially the Middle East, where some of his friends are right now. But if asked what they’re up to, he can’t tell you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to, it’s that he can’t know.
Any message can be intercepted, and if vital information8212;location, activity, intent8212;is leaked, a mission can be compromised, Stanfield said. Men and women who have left spouses and loved ones behind on U.S. soil, no matter how dearly they might want to talk about their day, are prohibited from doing so. It’s a professionalism that seeps into every corner of their life, Stanfield said.
“It’s not a job,” Stanfield said. “It’s a lifestyle.”
It’s the ability to assess a situation and make a weighed decision about what to do in a split second8212;an ability honed under the pressure of combat8212;as well as mechanically following orders and leading a group, that the corporate side of the United States values in former soldiers, Stanfield said.
But until he’s ready to trade in his army fatigues for office fatigue, Gustafson will continue following Stanfield’s orders and serve his country, be it here or overseas.
“I don’t know what it’s like over there,” Gustafson said. “I don’t have any expectations. I’m going to do my job. I just keep that in mind. It’s my job, and that’s what I want to do.”