Two soldiers

You can spend your career making sure people know who you are. Or you can help others be seen, and know who they are themselves.

One leaves a title behind. The other leaves behind people who remember how you believed in them — and spend their lives trying to live up to it.

Two soldiers entered service together.

Both gifted. Both driven. Both reaching the highest ranks and achievements.

But they were different kinds of leaders.

The first was soft-spoken and humble. In every room, every debrief, every conversation, he spoke of his soldiers first — their names, their contributions, what they were capable of, even their likes and dislikes.

He saw people more clearly than they saw themselves, and pushed them when they needed it most. He never hoarded any credit. His own achievements were never spoken of by him, but they were known by all.

And in turn, his soldiers didn’t just follow his orders. They carried his values and pushed them forward when he wasn’t watching.

The second was equally capable — sharp, decorated, and acutely aware of both. He understood the importance of being in the right room, saying the right thing to the right person at the right moment.

His name moved through channels deliberately. His accomplishments were never far from his own lips. And it worked. People knew about him because he spoke about it constantly and often. But his name and his reputation left the conversation once he left the room.

When they both reached General, the ceremonies were the same.

But their legacies — and how they were remembered — weren’t.

The former had people clamoring just to be around him. He lifted everyone up naturally. When he walked into a room he wouldn’t say a word, but you could immediately feel the shift. Not in tension, but in admirable respect.

Stories about him carried on long after he was gone. His legacy was told over and over by those who had served him — and had been truly served by him.

The other received the same commendations, if not more. The plaques filled up walls on buildings. And he deservingly received accolades for his accomplishments.

But nobody was there for him toward the end, because he simply had not been there for them when they needed it. Only when it served a purpose, and his title.

I knew the first soldier. His name was Major Raymond Wong.

And I’m happy to carry on his legacy — among all those he served.