A Lesson in Leadership I Learned from the Army: Praise in Public, Shield in Adversity

As a young cadet at the Officers Training Academy (OTA) in Chennai, I had little idea that one of the most enduring lessons of leadership would be taught to me not in a classroom, but on the Academy’s sun-scorched drill square.

It was the run-up to our Passing Out Parade in March 1984,a time of immense pride, pressure, and preparation. The entire course was undergoing rigorous training and numerous rehearsals to perfect our drill. One such day was the Adjutant’s Rehearsal, overseen by Maj Dutta, a firm yet fair officer known for his high standards. Mounted on his horse, he watched us with a hawk’s eye as we went through the drill movements.

Despite our best efforts, Maj Dutta was clearly unimpressed. His booming voice echoed across the ground as he admonished us for poor coordination and less-than-perfect turnout. We were made to do front rolls on the hard parade ground , a punishment we accepted without a word, though our morale had taken a hit.

The very next day was the Commandant’s Full Dress Rehearsal, with Maj Gen T.S. Verma presiding, again, on horseback, as tradition dictated. This time, we put in an even better performance. But to our surprise, the Commandant was displeased, not with us, but with Maj Dutta. In front of everyone, he scolded the Adjutant for the "poor quality of training" imparted to us.

We froze. If Maj Dutta was angry with us for  minor fault the previous day, what would he do now after being rebuked by the Commandant?

But then came the lesson.

After the General left, Maj Dutta gathered us, looked around, and smiled. “Well done, gentlemen,” he said. “That was a solid show. I’m proud of your effort. Go rest and get ready for the big day.”

No blame. No anger. Just appreciation.

That moment stayed with me forever. A true leader doesn’t deflect blame downward. He shields his men when things go wrong and lifts them when they do well.

Years later, I found myself posted at 617 EME Battalion  in Gangtok, during a cold and festive Diwali evening. The 17 Mtn DOU (Div Ordnance Unit) was tasked with organizing a fireworks display for troops and families at the Division Helipad. Spirits were high. The crowd was large. Among the dignitaries were GOC Maj Gen PPS Bindra and his wife.

Then it happened.

One of the rockets misfired and flew straight into the VIP tent. It burst close to where the General’s wife was seated, and she suffered minor burns. The General was livid and lashed out at Col Soni, the CO of 17 Mtn DOU. The atmosphere turned grim, and all eyes were on how the CO would react.

After the GOC left, Col Soni did something remarkable. He assembled his men and addressed them not with anger, but with pride.

“You all conducted yourselves with complete professionalism and followed all safety norms. What happened was a freak incident. No one is being blamed for this.”

Once again, I witnessed leadership in its purest form, absorbing the heat, deflecting it away from the team, and restoring morale when it mattered most.

Both these episodes, one as a cadet and another as an officer, shaped my leadership ethos. Over the years, I carried forward this principle in every role I took, inside and outside the Army.

A leader takes responsibility for failure but shares success generously with the team.
That’s not just a leadership mantra, it’s a way of life.