Do you have a real-world experience that demonstrates what a real leader should be?

April, 2016. I got into a bad car accident. A really bad car accident. Car tumbled six times before falling over the bridge I was on. 80-100 ft drop. One of the responders calls my wife who afterward calls one of the Gunnys in my unit (as one can imagine I am medically incapacitated). He calls his wife to watch our daughter while he gets some Marines together to take my wife to the hospital. He himself visits me at the hospital and back at my housing unit while I recover. Anything we needed he made sure it happened; ditto for other SNCOs and fellow NCOs. Learned a lot from the whole experience; especially looking out for the welfare of your peers/subordinates.

So this may not seem like much to others, but 36 years later it still means a lot to me.
As a PVT I had SQD LDRs at both ends of the pendulum, SGT Faulk who was like James Bond, Chuck Norris and Super Fly rolled into one, another who was good and another who will remain nameless because he was the walking antithesis of what a SQD LDR should be.

So SGT shit bird dumps my battle buddy and I off at the gate to the M2 range, we get the gun tripod and spare barrel off and before we can get our rucks off the truck he takes off.

It's drizzling and cold as all get out, by the time we had the gun set up we were soaked to the bone. No chow (C rats were in the rucks), no spare socks or gloves (yup in the rucks). We were kicking butt on the range which drew attention to us from the CSM, big Anthony Weems.
Dude interrogated us, we tried to be cagy and not sell SGT shit bird down the river because we knew he'd put the wood to us. He stayed with us for the duration of the qualification, which was way more attention than either of us wanted. Thankfully we both qualified Expert.

Long story short, he figured out what was up, he gave us each a pair of dry socks I swear they were 14 or 15s and his C rations from his butt pack. Told us we should invest in a butt pack as even though they didn't hold much , we would always have dry socks and chow if nothing else. He got in his Jeep and off he went. The guy didn't have to give us his stuff he just did it. To me that was and has been the example of selfless service and taking care of the guys.

Not long after that our 1SG ( another hero of mine) and PSG showed up and told us they heard we did well, had been complimented for being competent, loyal and tough and they were proud of us. We got back to base camp and SGT Shit bird was nowhere to found, and we had a new SQD LDR from one of the other Platoons.

My second year at Annapolis was a tough one, even in comparison to the first. I was struggling to maintain my physics, chemistry and calc scores...already on the "short" list for a probably academic failure and dismissal, but using every last resource to try and make it through. Eventually, I found myself in front of the "Green Table"...a panel of senior officers tasked with evaluating whether or not I should be retained. Sitting dead center was the Superintendent. On projector screens behind me, my entire Academy record was displayed (where I couldn't see), revealing my academic, military, physical and personal performance.

The 'Supe (Admiral Larson) sat there for a moment, then made a statement to the effect (I paraphrase), "Midshipman...you're perhaps the dumbest student in your class, but your other scores show you're not lazy. Why should these gentlemen give you a second chance?"

Terrified, I replied, "Sir, if you give me that chance, I promise I won't let you down."

He did...and I didn't let him down.

By the end of the next semester, I had pulled my grades up significantly...basically a 100% improvement. Now, I was just grateful to have made it into another round...I certainly didn't expect the Admiral to remember me much, if at all.

About a week after final grades were in, and I knew I was "good to go", I was sitting with my squad at tables when all of the sudden everyone shot straight to attention. Standing there, I knew the senior officer was behind me, but couldn't see him. I looked at the Firsties...they were both white as sheets. Then Admiral Larson said, "Mr. Gillespie, about face." Standing face to face with the Admiral, he shook my hand and said, "You made it Son...good work."

He walked away, and I made it another two and half years through to graduation...in no small part because out of 4,000 Midshipmen, the Admiral cared enough to make sure one of the least was squared away.

I didn't forget that lesson...ever.