SGT. 1ST CLASS JEREMY CULBRETH
5th Battalion, 122nd Regional Training Institute, Regional Training Site-Maintenance
Fort Stewart, Georgia

When a 23-year-old sergeant lost his life during what should have been a routine maintenance task, the shock rippled far beyond the walls of the installation motor pool. Anyone who has ever worked in the maintenance field knows the familiar sounds: the clank of tools, the hum of conversation and the steady rhythm of Soldiers doing the work that keeps the Army moving. It is easy to forget how quickly those sounds can turn into silence. This tragedy, which occurred when a tactical vehicle lowered and crushed the Soldier beneath it, is heartbreaking. But it is also a moment that demands reflection. Risk management is not a formality; it is a lifeline. When it fails — or when we fail to apply it — the consequences can be irreversible.

Maintenance operations are full of hazards that can become invisible through repetition. Heavy vehicles, suspended loads, hydraulic systems and tight spaces create an environment where one misstep can be catastrophic. The hazard in this case — working under a vehicle — is one every mechanic recognizes. It is the kind of task that comes with the job and quickly becomes repetitive.

But hazards do not care how experienced we are. They do not care how many times we have done the job. They only care whether controls are in place. This is why the Army’s five-step risk management process matters so much. It forces us to slow down, think and deliberately apply discipline to tasks that feel routine. Steps like identifying hazards and assessing risks should not be paperwork drills. They are the difference between going home at the end of the day and becoming the subject of a Preliminary Loss Report.

It is easy to talk about risk management in terms of controls and procedures. But at its core, risk management is about people: the Soldiers who trust each other to do the right thing, the leaders who carry the weight of responsibility and the families who expect their loved ones to come home safely. When we talk about hazards, we are not talking about abstract dangers. We are talking about the real possibility of losing someone we know — someone who jokes with us on break, helps us troubleshoot a deadlined vehicle, wears the same uniform and shares the same mission. That is why risk management must be personal. It must matter to us on a human level.

Leaders must revisit standard operating procedures, reinforce standards and create an environment where every Soldier feels empowered to speak up. Soldiers must look out for one another, even when the task feels routine. All of us must remember that safety is not a box to check; it is a culture we must build together. This young sergeant’s life cannot be restored, but his story can prevent another tragedy. That is the responsibility we must carry forward.