Photo By Command Sgt. Maj. Diana Anzaldua | For 37 years, Command Sgt. Maj. Eric Bethurem has been the man behind the standard,...... read more read more
COMMAND SERGEANT MAJOR. The title alone does something to a formation. Backs straighten. Eyes fix forward. Somewhere down the line, a Soldier discreetly checks that a patch hasn't drifted, that a boot lace hasn't come loose, that nothing, nothing, is a hair's breadth off standard.
For 37 years, Command Sgt. Maj. Eric Bethurem has stood in front of formations like that one. Today, he does it from Moffett Federal Airfield, California, as the senior enlisted advisor for the 63d Readiness Division, a two-star command responsible for training oversight and base operations support to more than 43,000 Soldiers and civilians spread across a seven-state footprint in the southwestern United States. And for most of that time, his face has told them one thing above all: the standard is not up for negotiation. And for most of that time, his face has told them one thing above all: the standard is not up for negotiation.
He does not smile much. He knows it, and he doesn't pretend otherwise.
"Most people, because I don't smile a lot, are sometimes scared to address me," Bethurem, senior enlisted advisor for the 63d Readiness Division, said plainly. "But I think once they come up and start talking, or hear me talk, they understand that I'm a true CSM that truly cares about Soldiers."
It is an expression, not a mood. "It's not that I'm not a happy guy," he said. "Everyone's facial features are a little different, and oftentimes it looks like I'm upset or mean. I'm not. I'm pretty much an open book when it comes to Soldiers."
Still, the reputation precedes him the way it precedes every CSM who's ever worn the star and wreath. Junior Soldiers talk. Word travels down the line faster than any operation order: the Division CSM doesn't smile. Some brace for it before they've ever said a word to him.
He's watched that nervousness play out more times than he can count, and he's watched it dissolve the same way every time. "Once they witness it the first time, or I stood in front of a formation and talked to them like I'm one of them, they realize that I'm pretty laid back and easy," he said, "as long as we are meeting the standard and following policy."
That last clause is not a small one. Standards are the load-bearing wall of everything Bethurem does, and the foundation was poured long before he ever pinned on his own rank. "Growing up as a kid, I was around the Army Reserve ever since I was probably three or four years old," he said. "My dad took me to work, and I witnessed how NCOs were always holding the standard — not just from a safety perspective, but from a training perspective too." The lesson stuck. "If we lack standards and discipline, we try to take shortcuts. That's when issues arise. We're not well trained, and safety accidents happen."
To hear him explain it, holding the line and knowing the Soldier standing in front of you are not competing skills, they're the same skill. "Every Soldier has something different that motivates them," Bethurem said. "The standards are always the same. How you figure out how to motivate that Soldier in order to meet that standard — that, to me, is a sign of a good leader."
Ask him for the advice he gives most, and it isn't tactical. It's a mindset, repeated so often it's practically doctrine to the Soldiers who've heard it from him. "If you think you can, you can, and if you think you can't, you can't," he said. "At the end of the day, as long as you have that positive attitude, and always think that you can — you can, and you will."
He doesn't just say it and move on, either. Between a division-level role that would fill most people's calendars twice over and a full civilian career on top of it — 14 to 18 hour days are the norm, not the exception — Bethurem still goes looking for the gaps. "At any opportunity, if I have a hole in my schedule, I'm always out trying to find where Soldiers are and spend that downtime with them," he said. "Everybody throughout their day has a little bit of downtime, whether that's five minutes or 30 minutes. How you spend it is important, and I always try to spend it out with the Soldiers."
Thirty-seven years of that adds up to a lot of conversations, and a lot of problems he never saw coming walking through his door. Soldiers come to him from every background, every region, every kind of family, and Bethurem doesn't flinch at any of it. He's heard enough different stories over the years that almost nothing surprises him anymore, and he doesn't have to relate to a Soldier's exact circumstances to be fully present for them. "I've had a lot of Soldiers come to me over the years, with a lot of different stories," he said. "Everybody comes from a different lifestyle, a different region. Every problem seems unique. It amazes me, some of the problems our Soldiers are dealing with. I always try to give them the best advice I can, based on what I've learned, to help them along."
Much of what he leans on to give that advice traces back to one man. "My dad was in the Army Reserve — a CW4, CW5, retired, 38 or 39 years," Bethurem said. "I think I lived my entire life through him until I started grasping hold of the Army Reserve myself. A lot of the practical application he taught me during his career; I still apply today."
The pull toward becoming a CSM himself came from watching senior NCOs the same way, years later, from the other side of the formation. "As an E2, E3, E4, I had some great CSMs," he said. "Oftentimes they scared me. But what they said was things I always believed in, and how they always held the standard, that's the reason I wanted to be that person. Preaching the standard, following the standard, enforcing the standard."
So — the smile. Or the absence of one. Ask him what he'd want an intimidated Soldier to know before they ever work up the nerve to walk over, and the answer has nothing to do with rank, and everything to do with family.
"I've got three kids in the Army Reserve. I've got nephews in the Army Reserve. I've got a brother-in-law in the Army Reserve," Bethurem said. "Family is the Army Reserve to me, and my family is always talking to me about their issues and how I can help. I see everyone else in formation really that same way. I hope they come up and address me and talk to me because I'll always provide the best advice I can."
The Command Sergeant Major still doesn't smile much. Thirty-seven years in, he's never needed to. The standard speaks for itself spoken the same way, to every Soldier, every time. And somewhere behind the stoic face is a man who's spent nearly four decades quietly waiting for someone to walk up and start talking. Most who do, walk away having found a lot more than they expected.
| Date Taken: | 08.22.2026 |
| Date Posted: | 08.25.2026 17:54 |
| Story ID: | 573196 |
| Location: | US |
| Web Views: | 31 |
| Downloads: | 1 |
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