When Integrity is All You Have

September 14, 2025 by Mike Manazir – (4-5 minutes)

Failure Doesn’t End You. Hiding it Might.

Integrity—Failure—Death

We were spinning—with both engines out—dropping like a rock 90 miles southwest of San Diego. We blew through 10,000 feet, the mandatory ejection altitude. From the backseat Slammer called, “Ten thousand feet—have you got it?” I didn’t answer. At 8,000 feet: “Eight thousand—have you got it?” Still out of control, out of ideas.

“Eject! Eject! Eject!”

I yanked the upper Martin-Baker handle. Canopy gone. A heartbeat of nothing—then 10+ Gs of sledgehammer force, three freeze-frame snapshots—my feet lashed in, the “455” on our nose spinning away, a flash of orange as the chute blossomed. Silence. Sky. My face curtain slipped from my hands (free drinks for life lost to the Pacific). I spotted Slammer hanging limp 100 yards away and thought I’d killed him. He’d blacked out during the sequence and woke up under canopy—very much alive.

We splashed down into a postcard-blue ocean, tied our rafts, and rode the swells while an E-2 Hawkeye vectored rescue helos to us. Then came the hard part.

The investigations. Safety. JAG. And the one that could end a career: the FNAEB. Pilot error, they concluded—my failure to release the controls during the vertical departure. I told the same truth to every board. No excuses. No creative stories about stuck spoilers or slat mismatches (which no one could disprove without the jet). One senior captain later pulled me aside: “You could’ve said anything. You didn’t. That’s integrity.”

Grounded for five weeks. Probation for a year. When I was cleared, I took a backseater to the El Centro warning area, locked the harnesses, and executed the same 90-degree vertical. This time by the book. Both engines stayed lit. We recovered clean. Demon exorcised.

I resolved to become the best instructor in the community. A year later, VF-124 Instructor Pilot of the Year (1988). Failure wasn’t my finish line; it was mile marker 26 on a much longer race.

Integrity—Failure—Death

Dwight D. Eisenhower said the supreme quality of leadership is unquestionably integrity. Without it, no real success is possible. Leaders with integrity own their mistakes. They don’t hide them, spin them, or blame their teams. Without integrity, there’s no trust. Without trust, there’s no team. Without a team, there’s no dream.

That day I lost an F-14. The only thing I did right was live. The loudest voice I had to overcome was in my own head. If you’ve tasted a public failure, start here:

Tell the truth—especially when it costs you. Your word is your bond; your career can survive failure, but it won’t survive deception.

Do the rep again. Return to the scene (safely) and rebuild competence under pressure.

Extract the lesson. Label your black swans before they happen—game out responses so surprise doesn’t destroy your plan—or you.

Teach what you learned. Your scar becomes someone else’s armor.

When death brushes your shoulder, colors get brighter. Priorities sharpen. Families matter more. In leadership, that clarity is a gift—focus on what truly moves the mission, the people, and the future.

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P.S.

If this message stirred something in you—share it. Forward it to a friend, colleague, or your leadership team. Better yet—let’s talk.

Let’s raise up a generation of leaders who know how to Lead to Win.

Mike Manazir
Rear Admiral, U.S. Navy (Ret.)
Author of Learn How to Lead to Win

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