Recently giving a speech on leadership, I was humbled to be in the presence of several great military heroes, far more accomplished than myself.
During the talk, I was asked to describe what Memorial Day means to me, a 26-year veteran of the CIA. It was a straightforward question, but one relatively unique in meaning. After all, I did not serve in the U.S. military, but rather in the silent service of the CIA, the Directorate of Operations.
Our accomplishments are never spoken of publicly, and our sacrifices are rarely seen. I have thought deeply about this question. My response today is that Memorial Day means one thing to me: Our Memorial Wall, with 137 stars carved in marble, a sacred location at CIA headquarters in Langley, Virginia. CIA employees and visitors pass the Wall on their right, just as they walk into the original headquarters building.
It’s worth noting, here, that the agency’s clandestine service is very small — at one point, I was sure that I must have known a majority of our case officers by name if not by sight. So, I could never pass by that wall without an intense feeling similar to being punched in the gut. I have several friends who have stars on the wall. I have run operations with some of them. I have led some of them. And, most importantly, I was directly responsible for some of their fates. Decisions I made as a leader are the reason they are on the wall.
This is a heavy burden to carry, a burden that only in retirement, and with the aid of mental health professionals, have I begun to unpack, deal with, and process. I am ashamed that I once felt sorry for myself about this. I harbored so much of my own grief that I was weighed down with regret at the lives that had been lost.
I once expressed these sentiments to a retired three-star general who was visiting me in the Middle East when I held a field management position. He looked at me directly in the eye and remarked, “I have those feelings on an industrial scale.” It was a humbling statement, and one that led me to believe I had been selfish in my feelings.
Still, others carry burdens much greater than I. These burdens of CIA leadership are such that wins and losses are not tabulated in terms of profit and loss. It is lives lost, or sometimes saved as well. But it is real, and the feelings of pain never go away. I think of one star on the wall belonging to an officer I knew who had been killed. His mother gave me his Little League baseball card, and my son, now a college baseball player, carries it in his wallet to this day. I am heartened that my kids simply “get it.” One of my son’s first memories was when we were overseas, and he and his sister watched in horror from his school just a mile away as al Qaeda attacked a U.S. government facility where my wife and I were working. They hugged and cried as the smoke rose and the automatic weapons fire died down. They were convinced that they had been orphaned. Luck was on our side that day, and I worry that the attack has scarred them and is burned into their memories. So make no mistake, our family never forgets Memorial Day.
I think of the CIA teams that immediately went into Afghanistan after 9/11, nearly all with the thought that it was a one-way ticket on the helicopter infiltration flights in. Yet so many of my colleagues, myself included, were desperately trying to get on these teams. A fire was raging, and CIA officers ran to the fire, not away.
Memorial Day for me also means honoring those CIA heroes who gave the ultimate sacrifice by talking about them openly. Some may chafe at this, but I believe the public needs to know what the intelligence community does for it. I had a glass paperweight on my desk during my time at the CIA with the philosopher Edmund Burke’s famous quote, “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.” The CIA is an indispensable institution made up of great Americans. By virtue of their work, we cannot celebrate so many of their achievements. I make this point to the public every time that I have the opportunity. But now, on Memorial Day, we must acknowledge the role that CIA officers have played in defending our country.
They don’t perform this work alone, of course. They and others like them do so every day in the halls of the CIA, Department of State, DHS, FBI, NSA, the Pentagon, and every U.S. military base. Their duty means leaning into it. Solving every complex problem set thrown at you. Having an indefatigable desire to succeed. Embracing leadership concepts and principles such as humility, compassion, overcoming adversity, and being the ultimate teammate. While always believing deeply that America is a shining city on the hill.
Thank God there are Americans, many in the shadows, who still stand watch on the ramparts. I salute them all on Memorial Day, as they honor those who have fallen with their continued service.
Marc Polymeropoulos is a former CIA senior operations officer. He retired in 2019 after a 26-year career serving in the Near East and South Asia. His book Clarity in Crisis: Leadership Lessons From the CIA will be published in June 2021 by Harper Collins.
