Zero Defect
A written narrative of Lieutenant General Matthew “Jerry” Glavy by Savan Kong
The helicopter crosses the tree line of the ornate and historic palace grounds.
Colonel Jerry Glavy is in the cockpit. This is Marine One. The most powerful man in the world is seated behind him. Buckingham Palace is below. He has rehearsed every second of this approach. The detailed brief, the meticulous rehearsal, the plan and review of possible contingencies - he has lived the mission before he flies it.
That is what Zero Defect looks like. Not fearlessness, but preparation so deep it becomes reflex.
He lands. The mission completes. He will remember it the way he remembers all of them: with gratitude, not spectacle.
The Rink
Before any of this, there was a backyard in Buffalo, New York.
First-generation Irish Catholic. Three brothers and sisters packed into a middle-class house. A grandfather from the Irish countryside of the County Kerry who said his prayers in Gaelic every night and lived in that house for sixteen years. A telephone man father who worked late shifts, wherever the hours were, and every winter built an ice rink in the backyard, complete with boards and lights he wired himself.
The neighborhood kids came after school and stayed until bedtime.
Matthew “Jerry” Glavy grew up the way a lot of kids from that era grew up: outside, unsupervised, making everything into a sport. Cross country in high school. Hockey whenever possible. A little football, until he realized he wasn’t big enough nor good enough. Humility is a special gift.
One year, he barely played on a team that finished undefeated and unscored upon. He will still tell you it was one of the most impactful experiences of his life. Not for what he contributed, but for what he belonged to.
Being part of a great team. He knew, even then, that it was the thing he was chasing.
The Hardest Team
At the Naval Academy Prep School in Newport, Rhode Island, Jerry Glavy had a company officer named Major James Mattis, who would go on to become a four-star General and the 26th United States Secretary of Defense.
He was a force of nature. The ultimate Marine, even then. You didn’t fully understand what you were seeing at nineteen years old. But you felt it. A man who carried himself a certain way, who treated people a certain way, who made you want to be like that.
When service selection came around at the Naval Academy, the USNA radio station broadcast each midshipman’s choice live. Glavy’s next in line. Hey Jerry, what are you gonna do?
Marine Corps.
Second Lieutenant. Basic School. Flight school. Then years of deployments with Marine Expeditionary Units, flying Marines to some of the most dangerous places on earth. He knew life wasn’t going to get any easier, but that was exactly the point.
I-95 North
Most Marine officers heading out of the Pentagon as Assistant Deputy Commandant for Aviation would take I-95 south, back to Camp Lejeune, back to what they knew.
Jerry Glavy took I-95 north to Fort Meade, Maryland. United States Cyber Command. National Security Agency.
He had spent years in aviation, with a systems engineering degree from the Naval Academy and some early coding experience, but that was a long time ago. As Deputy Director of Operations at US Cyber Command and later as Commander of US Marine Corps Forces Cyberspace Command, the mission was active, the adversaries were invisible, and the people around him were among the most technically sophisticated in the world. Future CNO Admiral Mike Gilday was there. General Paul Nakasone, the future Cyber Command Commander, was there. General Tim Haugh, another great Cyber Command Commander, was there. Admiral Kevin Lundey, 28th Commandant of the Coast Guard was there. Joe Hartman the most recent Cyber Command Commander was there. It was a team of all-stars, though Jerry would tell you not to include him.
He kept his mouth shut and listened. He prepared for every brief with complete and utter attention.
“I was in this learning mode almost continuously.”
Five years total at Fort Meade. The equivalent of a PhD, he says, maybe more. He commanded Joint Task Force ARES, executing offensive cyberspace operations under some of the most sensitive conditions in the department. He oversaw the construction of a $200 million facility for full spectrum cyberspace operations. He grew the command to a 3,000-person fighting force.
What he found there wasn’t just a new domain. It was a confirmation of something he already believed: that the willingness to walk into a room where you are the least informed person, and learn everything you can like your life depended on it, is one of the most useful skills a leader can carry.
Yes Is Beautiful
After you have served as the Commanding Officer of Marine Helicopter Squadron One, flown the President of the United States into Buckingham Palace, commanded cyber and space forces, and ultimately served as a three-star Lieutenant General and Deputy Commandant for Information overseeing a $3 billion annual budget, people ask you things. They want advice. They want mentorship. They want ten minutes of your time.
Lieutenant General Jerry Glavy says yes.
He knows the conventional wisdom. The most important thing you can do to stay focused is say no. Protect your calendar. Keep the main thing the main thing. He has heard it a hundred times and he has his own answer.
Yes is hard. No is easy. No is done.
Yes means a phone call. Maybe another one after that. Yes means a captain at the Marine Corps Warfighting Lab who reaches out because he wants to make sure he gives a second lieutenant the right advice, and you drop everything to help him because someone once did that for you. Yes is a last minute letter of recommendation to get someone closer to their dreams.
His mentors didn’t have to respond. Tony Verducci, his company officer at the Naval Academy, didn’t have to spend time with a kid who wasn’t sure what branch he wanted. General Paul Nakasone didn’t have to stay in touch after retirement. They chose yes. Consistently.
That is the thing Jerry Glavy noticed about every impactful person in his life. They showed up when he engaged them. They responded. Not because they had to. Because yes, in the long run, is more generous than no.
The Chainsaw
Retired Lieutenant General Matthew “Jerry” Glavy, United States Marine Corps, walked off active duty in September 2024 after thirty-nine years of service. His final post: Deputy Commandant for Information, responsible for modernizing the Marine Corps Enterprise Network, integrating AI and machine learning capabilities, and managing the intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance enterprise for the entire Corps.
The first thing he did was get out the chainsaw.
Five acres of overgrown timber on a property they hadn’t lived in for years. Sunrise to sunset, cutting, hauling, making dump runs. Two weeks of it. He would not necessarily advise this approach. But there was something clarifying about it. After nearly four decades inside the most complex institution in the world, here was a problem with clear edges. A tree either falls or it doesn’t.
Now, eighteen months in, he wakes up a little later than he used to, but he still gets the workout done. He sees his ninety-four-year-old parents more than he ever could on active duty. He is over at his daughter’s house, a Navy physician, and logging more grandfather hours than he ever managed as a father. As President of Glavy Outcomes Group and a Government Advisor to AI Ready Veteran, Inc., he is channeling thirty-nine years of hard-won experience into helping veterans navigate the transition he just made himself.
He’s heading to Vanderbilt to meet with our mutual friend, Brett Goldstein, and speak at General Nakasone’s program, and listening when the students tell him what they are most worried about.
Will there be jobs? He’s worried about that too.
What the future holds for young people who have a sense of duty and a desire to take care of their families. He doesn’t have an answer. In some days, he’s still working on the question.
Perseverance and resilience. Physical, mental, spiritual. Take care of yourself in all three, show up every day, don’t miss the morning workout if you can help it, and let things happen a little.
He isn’t naturally a passive person. But he has learned the difference between forcing and waiting. Between control and readiness.
The mission is different now, but he’s still prepared.
Because Zero Defects was never about the helicopter. It was never about the rank, the title, or the room he happened to be standing in. It was the refusal to be unprepared. The backyard rink built right. The brief rehearsed before the flight. The mouth kept shut in a room full of people smarter than him, until he had earned the right to speak. Thirty-nine years of morning workouts. Thirty-nine years of yes. The mission has changed but the standard has not.
Inspired by Jerry’s Story
Inside Marine One: Four U.S. Presidents, One Proud Marine, and the World’s Most Amazing Helicopter by Col. Ray L’Heureux (Author), Lee Kelley (Author)
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