Agency in the Snow

Photo by Sporisevic Photography on Uns...

LTG (Ret) David P. Fridovich

I arrived in Bosnia-Herzegovina in January 2000 to assume command of a Combined Joint Special Operations Task Force—an operation involving multiple NATO partner nations, along with other U.S. military forces.

The situation was difficult, the terrain unforgiving, and the winter was brutal. In fact, the worst snowfall in more than 30 years had blanketed the entire region.

In the first days after arriving, I did what leaders do in unfamiliar terrain: I got out of headquarters and went to see people.

That meant long helicopter flights and even longer Humvee rides over icy roads, meeting the teams we had scattered across the country.

And everywhere I went, I asked a simple question:

“What are we doing here?”

Without fail, I got different answers from different teams.

That was not a good sign.

When people can’t explain the mission in the same language, they’re not aligned. And when they’re not aligned, they’re not really operating as a team.

So I went back and reviewed the orders and the updates that had originally brought us there—and kept us there.

What I found was sobering.

No one had taken a fresh look at the mission. No one had stepped back and asked what had changed over the past five years.

And I knew from experience that no one was going to do it for us.

That was the moment when a choice had to be made.

Not a dramatic choice. Not a heroic one.

A simple one:

Either accept drift—or restore purpose.

The snowfall had created an unexpected reality on the ground: we had six weeks or more before the melting snow would allow the three warring parties to resume killing each other again.

That meant we had time.

But time only matters if you use it.

So we rebuilt the plan. We reoriented the teams. We clarified why we were there. We re-established discipline.

Then I briefed the new plan to my three-star boss.

He made it clear I wasn’t leaving before he did—which he could decide at any time.

But he approved the plan.

And something shifted.

That clarity restored our credibility with our NATO partners. It strengthened the resolve of the force. It brought direction and discipline back into a system that had been drifting for too long.

Here’s what that experience reminded me:

Agency is rarely a grand act.

More often, it begins when someone decides to stop waiting for “someone else” to fix the situation.

In Special Forces, that mindset is not optional. Every soldier must be an agent of his own life. Every leader must take responsibility for the mission—not just execute tasks.

If they give you the keys to the bulldozer and you generally know how to operate it, there’s not much that’s going to stop you.

The same is true for planning and execution.

You secure your agency through the actions you take.

And it always starts the same way:

With a choice.